A Dark Duel pt2 (conclusion)

(OOC: I apologize for how long it has taken me. Real life became nearly unbearable with how crazy it has been. That said, this concludes one of the duo postings by Ender. I hope he returns sometime soon!

Next posts are coming!)

It was a rare thing indeed for someone to even remotely touch him. Even rarer was the feeling he felt when the mask was struck off. It was almost alien in existence.

Bathlazaar Gelt felt anger.

Draken searched still for a place of refuge. He glanced up and almost was amazed silly by what he saw. He recognized the building and could not think of a better place to hide. The fact that one of the trees had broke some of the dweomers to even let him notice it was a stroke of Lady Luck.

He looked back to his current predicament. He could see where he had smote his blade across the mask, a straight cut marked it over the right cheekbone, almost to the nose. That wounded visage stared back as The Crimson One raised his arms. Draken felt a tingle go through the air.

"Dico me valide. Procellae Tonitruales. Dico me valide," Gelt spoke with power overflowing from his syllables. He would call the very storm upon this demonborne for daring to give him the insult of a wound. There would be no quarter now. He had proven himself capable of touching him. Oh how he hated it!

The fury of the storm boiled overhead. Magic intensified the umbrella of lightning above, the wind blowing in swirling gusts that whipped rain sideways. Draken understood what he had said in his incantations and cast his eyes desperately about for The Black Staff. He spotted it half sunk in a pond of a puddle.

He turned his gaze back to Gelt. He needed that staff to get out. But now the archmage drew up his power for the attack. Draken lifted his head, water running in rivlets down his face as he spoke. "You fight well for a Man. But your time is ending. The cycle of Man ends now. A new age is arriving, the old age is ending. From shadows of revenge, those suffering by the might of Man shall return and put Man back into his place. The Age of Men has ended. So why should you fight me for a cause not worthy of your power?"

He had hoped to make the wizard speak, to make him divert his attentions from his spell but was met with silence that ended with the mage pointing his arms outstretched to Draken. The electric in the air zapped about as ground bolts ripped into the sky. The Diablo turned and ran for The Black Staff. He ran with the speed of a man possessed.

Gelt's fury was unmatched in display. He sent bolt after bolt of lightning towards Draken, brilliant light and thundering violence splitting the heavens and renting the ground. A house exploded from a strike directly behind Draken. Another bolt nearly connected, blasting him almost off his feet. Still, he ran. And so Gelt tried to smite him. He watched as Darkward make a dive for his staff. The bolt he aimed blasted a crater upon the staff.

Draken reached out his hand to his staff, almost clasping it. Then, the world went white as a thunderous noise visited his ears. He felt water and ground meet his back as he felt something odd. He looked down at his right hand as he sat up, hissing as he did. His pale skin was blackened from the blast as the strangest feeling permeated the appendage. He looked about for the staff, trying to find it. The Black Staff now lay a few feet away from where it had been blasted, energy cackling all around.

Draken stood, realizing what he felt as he flexes his hand. It was something from long ago, almost a distant memory. He had nearly forgotten what it was like.

He felt pain.

Draken breathed deeply, ignoring the newly found pain as he realized he was still in danger. With a rolling to his feet, he was narrowly missed by another bolt. He called his own personal power as he dodged beneath a crumbling roof. He quickly ran through the abandoned abode, never looking back as he turned at the back door. Shadows melted around him as he felt some of his strength wane. He became a cloud of writhing shadows as Gelt unleashed the storm upon the abode. Lightning struck a half dozen times, blasting the ruins further. Rock and rotting timber flew from energetic impacts as Draken sped up and into the air.

Gelt tried to strike him again as he swooped low to the ground. His hand extended out even as he gripped his sword tightly. He scooped the staff up as he swerved to Gelt, feeling the power of the staff channel through him. The Crimson one moved to parry and was almost unable to as the shadow blade stabbed out from the enshrouded Draken. Bathlazaar grunted as the blade rang out an unholy sound of steel and darkness against his staff of power.

Gelt realized it was a ploy and retorted with a skybolt as he beheld Draken's escape upwards. Draken himself was willing himself faster to the top. He could just barely make out the roof top garden that was just shimmering barely in sight, a broken tree sticking out from the side dispelling illusions there. It was his only way in that he saw.

The blasts came one after another, the bolts narrowly missing Draken. Three times he narrowly missed getting struck as he sashayed left and right. As he raised up over the edge, the wizard found his mark. The strike squarely impacted along his back, making Draken scream in pain as he fell into the garden. With a roll and tumble did he finally slide to a stop.

Gasping, he gathered himself and threw himself behind shelves of lilacs. He did not have to wait long for Gelt to appear. He levitated without a word just outside of the garden. "You assume I stand for Man. Oh, how much you do not know. The Age of Men has come to a close. But now I know where you lay. And you are wrong. This is now the Age of the Empire!"

Gelt brought his will crashing down upon the place. Draken felt the air tingle as he readied for a barrage. The air hummed with violence.

The bolts came down with guided wills. It was this moment that the unexpected happened. Lightning struck but not upon the hidden garden. Instead, they impacted a powerful shield that domed over the garden. Gelt beheld his attack brushed effortlessly away. Once more, he struck with the power of the storm and once more was nullified. He floated closer and inspected the dweomers he now beheld.

"Stormcrow... So, you live still..." Bathlazaar mused, reading the tightly woven knots of the Weave. He had seen this spellcraft before, knew how it was woven. Still, he beheld another power behind the dweomers. And it was surprise that he felt next once he realized what was there. For it could not be. He backed away. "Know this, Draken Darkward. You have chosen the path you walk. Know that you have made a grievous mistake in allegiances."

With that, Gelt gained distance before teleporting away. As reality snapped around him, one word escaped him that contained all the incredulous discovery of that other power. "Fernoia..." he spoke in a voice that hinted at fear.

Draken picked himself up. He looked about and knew this place. It was as if it came straight from his past. Yes, this was the past for there was the corner he and Shade appeared. And where the one called Orla had healed him.

He bowed his head in a silent thanks to that spry fey. He hoped she was well enough in this world. Her heart was big enough for him and Shade both, not that they were deserving of having one.

The memory of that healing warmth that tickled at the sense of summertime winds and spring rain. The sensation spread over him as The Black Staff pulsed once more in time with his own heartbeat. The pain was wiped away as if mud from a sleeve. When Draken raised his head, he found his hand, arm, and even his back was unblemished by damage. The staff slowly stopped pulsing as he surveyed the garden. He knew nothing more that was here, for not even Orla remained in Dalen.

He had dodged certain death at the hands of that wizard. The next time they met, there would be a clear victor, of that he was certain. He glanced at the staff. You are hungry... It is time to feed you, he thought. He still did not know what caused the wizard to back off but he was thankful for it. With a deep breath, he stepped off the ledge of the garden's edge and swathed himself once more in shadows.

Only the rumble of the agitated storm remained behind the both of them.