BOOK FOUR
CONQUEST
Chapter IV
The Darksphere floated, reveling in the death and destruction it had caused. Rasoginim was so pleased with himself, he allowed himself a moment of self-admiration and memory.
The Darksphere had been in the old temple in the
woods, Rasoginim had been told. He had grown up reading about its glory, its
power, its perfection. The secret books had, of course, been hidden from the
paladins of his town.
He had heard the rumor through secret channels,
the magical communications link of evil. The paladins were supposed to go out
to destroy the Darksphere the next morning. That left several hours to go get
it for himself.
Rasoginim, using his old sword, had made his way
to the temple. Getting the Darksphere had been easy, as the temple was
abandoned. Or so it seemed.
There were several guardians, but the morons
waited until after Rasoginim had taken the Darksphere.
The six jumped him as he was leaving the temple.
He shot out a wave of instant death, but one of the guardians somehow reflected
it—
The Darksphere couldn't destroy its wielder, but
the wave of death had done close to it. Rasoginim had been banished to the
space between dimensions…
It had taken him a long time, but he made his way out. And to the Triforce that had been mentioned so often in his reading…
The Assassi Nation warriors were legendary fighters and assassins. Their country had been named after the assassins of old, warriors usually neutral in any conflict and not all that aggressive—until paid, or had some other reason.
Then they were death itself, embodied into five thousand Assassi, a race of their own.
Assassi were fast, strong, and cunning. Their scales camouflaged themselves, taking in the colors of the objects behind them. Their wings could propel them at high speeds, and having blades along the tips of those wings didn't exactly hurt their combat ability. An arm attached to each wing, but could come off at any time. These arms usually held daggers, dart guns, or shuriken, with an occasional bow. Every one of them was poisoned, of course. Their legs ended in talons rather than feet, which helped fight as well.
When united, the Assassi were practically unstoppable.
With Rasoginim and his magic to drive them, the weren't just practically unstoppable.
Link was told most of this on the way to the southern coast, next to the Great Southern Ocean, which spanned nearly half the globe. The Assassi had come by air, and had utterly destroyed the southern cities and towns. At least, that was what had been expected. Only one witness made it out, and he had been too far away to see anything but the color-shifting cloud of Assassi.
Link saw it. But he saw more than the barely-visible streak of blue. He saw pure evil.
And he saw his death.
Narroc Ts'roh told his forces to attack. Eight horses, four half-dragons low in the air, a phoenix, and two humanoids on foot could hardly go unnoticed, at least to the razor-sharp vision of the Assassi. Eight Assassi surged forward, their various weapons at the ready.
Twelve shuriken, tiny and sharp thrown projectiles, found their new home—a half-dragon.
Literally. Shuriken, at least the Assassi version, were able to magically travel to a victim's brain, and (if their magic overpowers their victim's brainpower) take control of the subject.
The half-dragon—Hu Li was his name—dove down, swooping on Link. Unsuspecting, the half-dragon sunk his sword into Link's back, emerging through Link's chest on the other side.
Without the Triforce of Courage, Link couldn't heal himself. It took only a second before he fell off his horse.
Dead.
Blade was the first to respond to Link's death. For an instant, he just stopped walking and stared. That was, until the half-dragon turned on him.
The traitor—or was he being controlled? Blade didn't have time to wonder—turned to him. He started running towards Blade, his wings almost useless for such short distances.
Combat reflexes kicked in, and Blade instantly pulled out his bow and snapped off a shot, an expert between the eyes. Snipe could have done better, Blade knew, but Snipe was dead.
Eight almost-invisible shapes swooped down. Blade saw two more half-dragons (one of them Gorin, Blade knew) fall, from what he couldn't tell. An arrow—at least that was visible and identifiable) got one of the Gyrdians on horseback.
It was a short battle, the Gyrdians and half-dragons unable to see their enemies. After a matter of minutes, only Phoenix remained.
Getting a sudden idea, Phoenix dipped, dived, and swirled his way to the mass of Assassi. There was no way he could escape, so why bother trying?
Remarkably, Phoenix managed his way to the color-shifting blob. Having no idea what he was doing, Phoenix tensed his muscles, very strongly.
He saw red. Not red from blood, or anything like that. The red of a rapidly expanding ball of fire.
The Assassi were killed nearly instantly, not so much from the fire itself as from the heat.
But, the Assassi force here was not all of them. A thousand more waited near the coast. In less than two day's time, they would take over the job of conquest.
On the ground lay a gently burning body, the body of a phoenix. The gentle flames burst into a huge blast, and the body was incinerated.
A small red body made its way out of the ashes. There is one vital fact that should never be forgotten, at least by evil.
A phoenix is reborn from its ashes.