The S & S of Calamity; Conclusions
The ancient ruin had been void of life for hundreds of years it seemed. Pewter stone had been overtaken by the lives of a thousand plants, weaving a lattice over forgotten tales and tragedies. It was the kind of setting which pulsed serenity. Rays of the sun bathed the area in warmth and a warm wind cast reeds into a symphony of sound and motion, as if some great play were unfolding before no audience in particular. Scholars and artists could search their entire lives and never fully represent what this place had become.
Such beauty did not remain in the world. A solitary ruin came crashing down into a heap while another form eluded the stones. Once more this place became scarred by the hands of the living and was being reborn into something new and profane. Orphen quickly got his bearings after evading the last attack but stared across the rubble which lay behind him. It could have been his tomb. Death was not yet ready to take him.
"My guide is the death-calling starling!"
The blast of magical energy rippled through the air toward Chiron, but the imp had a small surprise waiting for the sorcerer. Hopping into the air, Chiron suddenly became a missile and darted right towards Orphen and his blast of energy. Those two powerful wings wrapped around him before impacting the attack and, much to Orphen's dismay, Chiron slipped effortlessly through the attack and out the other side. Once in range, Chiron's wings burst open to reveal a malicious shriek, accompanied by a thrusting claw. Orphen had only time to leap to the side before Chiron decimated the ruin below him, sending up a geyser of dirt and stone.
Orphen's breath came out a bit forced as he looked at the damage all while considering Chiron's ease of escape. "My attack didn't even affect him. Who knew an imp would be so resistant to magic attacks?" he whispered to himself and watched Chiron stand straight.
The imp raised his perilous claw into a taunting position and stood poised to deliver more punishment. An expression of arrogance played across his demonic face. "You humans handle magic so carelessly. It's a wonder your kind even know how to use magic at all. You're pathetic." he snarled and the fiery aura of magic on his skin began to flicker and swirl. Although Orphen suspected an attack, Chiron was too fast when he used a magical blast without any kind of incantation. The only reason Orphen was able to survive such an attack was his activation of a defense shield, though even at his full strength, the blast still shattered his shield and sent his body back into a decrepit wall.
Orphen had made an impression in the stone and fell to his knees, leaning heavily onto his hands and watching a splatter of blood fall with each of his breaths. The metallic taste of blood shocked his senses and warned him just how dire this battle was, but this gave him a moment of thought. Why hadn't Pallas jumped in to help him, like he had done so many times before? Had he even moved since the fight started? Was he testing him to see if he had really softened up? Even Pallas knew when to stop a fight and help a friend. However, there was no sign of him so far.
"Though I am surprised your defensive magic was able to block that, no amount of defensive magic will save your from my claws. When I get my claws on you, I'm going to eat your hands first to suck all of the magic out of them. Then I'm going to eat your black heart, sorcerer. I hope you exercise often…I'm trying to watch my figure!"
Chiron's sense of humor had trickled into his true form, just as it was so potent in his docile one. A shrill laughter followed the gruesome intentions and the sound of shifting weight on large claws. Orphen could barely see Chiron's position but he knew that there was another charge in store. This time, he wouldn't be able to avoid those lethal claws.
The idea of dying in this place, with no one he cared about around him and before he was able to save his beloved Azalie, did not sit well with him. His body racked with pain but he had still not been injured that much. His magic attacks did not penetrate Chiron's defense but there were other ways of eluding defense. Orphen was not one to take his own death on his knees. As Chiron lunged forward to tear the sorcerer to pieces, Orphen's hand began to glow slightly as his lips let out a quiet incantation.
"Blade of Satan, whom I call forth…"
Chiron's senses had tweaked at the culmination of magic, but it was too late to react. Orphen's crouched position gave him a perfect platform to lunge forward, a glowing sword of magic at his fingers, and meet the imp in mid-air. A shriek sounded through the ruins and Orphen landed on the ground with his back facing Chiron. The imp, a creature so infused with magic and arrogant as to its nature, stood but a moment before bursting into green flames and incinerate. Chiron had fallen.
Cleo had no control as she worked furiously to tear her dress. Stains of blood already ruined her innocent face and tears ran dark trails down her cheeks to fall like raindrops onto Majic's bloody face. Cleo had found him being assaulted by some fearsome creature, a black shadow which was ready to feed on the young boy. With no fear or consequence, she had called out and ran to stop him, unaware that the foe she sought to halt was nothing she could handle. Even Leki had been reduced to a parade of bluffs, though the small dragon had ran in right next to the blinded girl.
To her shock, the creature took one look at her and disappeared into the air, leaving a badly wounded Majic in her care. Now, as she tried to bandage all of Majic's wounds with fabric from her dress, her tear became hatful towards two she hated loving so much. Where are you Orphen? Pallas? Why didn't you help him?! Why does he have to be so bloody!
A shriek shattered the morning air and startled Cleo, making her stop to cover her ears and be confronted with her own whimpering. Only after her hair became stained with Majic's blood and her ears recovered from the frightening howl did she open her eyes and look at Majic with cleared eyes. "I have to find Orphen. Only he can heal you." she said in a frantic tone while trying to lift Majic's arm up over her shoulder. Her lithe form provided little strength to haul around another, but the situation gave her uncanny strength and helped her lift him. In the direction of the howling, she looked with beauty which pierced the chaos around her. All she could think of was being saved.
"Pallas…Orphen…"
Sound was a relative thing. A dying imp was able to release a cry that could deafen an entire city and still be nothing but a whisper in comparison to what Orphen heard next. Applause. The sound of Pallas's hands clapping together popped in his ears and seemed to shake the foundation of the ruins themselves. It was the realization that Orphen had not yet fought the true villain of Okenforde, but merely the pawn. His true nemesis had been watching the battle all along.
"I knew you had it in you, Orphen. Chiron was something which was born in magic, but he was too arrogant and his foresight was going to kill him someday. I'm not surprised that it was you who did it though. Not even I had the heart to kill him. You truly are a mystic of the black arts."
Pallas's voice had taken on a completely new life of its own and Orphen could find no semblance of his friend in it. Standing straight after defeating Chiron, Orphen faced Pallas for the first time with the realization of his true intent. Pallas appeared the exact same to him, but only now he was an enemy. That was something which Orphen found hard to swallow. "Why are you doing this, Pallas? What happened to you?"
To respond to that question, Pallas gripped the hilt of his sword and slowly pulled it from his scabbard. The sound made Orphen wince. Pallas held the sword with both hands in front of him, looking at the blade as if it were a representation of his very existence. There was affection and hatred for this sword, but Pallas only spoke sincerely as his voice defied nature and remained whole around its blade. "Do you know how the Salt Abbey sword was created, Orphen? Do you know why it contains the power that it does?" Pallas asked without expecting any kind of response. Orphen knew of these tactics, for Pallas had used them many times before. The swordsman could hold a casual conversation while facing dozen of armed guards and it was like a pebble being thrown into a pond. Ripples of doubt and fear would move through the enemy until Pallas could utilize his attacks to destroy them. Now Orphen found himself on the receiving end of this brutal tactic.
"There was a religious convent located at the shore of a great salt lake. The monks who lived in this place were great craftsmen and used their skills to build weapons, machines and anything else someone could afford. The glitter of gold was more sacred than any god they knew. Well, you see, one day they were contracted to build a very special sword. The buyer was a famous warlord. His name was Enki."
Orphen's face had frozen at the name which was spoken and Pallas's reaction to it caused him to smile slightly. "I see you've heard of him. Yes, Orphen, it was this sword which was the heart of Daikuro's empire. You see, the reason it wields such a power is because of how Enki took possession of it." Orphen felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him as Pallas's right eye was obscured by the blade, leaving him to focus on a single tunnel into his friend's lost mind. Pallas held the sword ceremonially in front of him.
"It took three years for the monks to create this sword. They imported steel and other metals from all over the word to create it. With the mountain of gold Enki promised them, they felt any sacrifice necessary. Unfortunately for them, they did not know what kind of man Enki was. The convent was tragically burned down by the very forge which made this sword. Every one of the monks died. You can imagine the betrayal they felt as they burned to death within their own mill. You see, even impious monks have a sort of agreement with magic and the unknown. To repay Enki for his treachery, the monks' souls saturated this sword, which Enki named Salt Abbey as an ironic touch, and thus it has become something of great power of which you already know."
Orphen stared at the blade of Pallas's sword with a trembling fist, mostly because the truth of that story perfectly described the sword's power. However, he also knew now how Pallas came across the sword and why he was acting the way he was now. "Since you were the one who stopped Enki, you took the sword from him. Pallas, I know what happened to you. I know what that sword does to their owners!" he called out in an effort to save his friend. Pallas laughed darkly as his eyes reflected his own admission.
"Drives them insane? How do you think I was able to stop the mighty Enki when he held such a powerful sword? The poor fool was in a fit when I found him at Baloria. He had slaughtered his own generals and was working on his harem of courtiers when I broke the lines. As grand as the stories say, all I did was run at him with my sword. He was too crazy to even defend himself. After I had ran my sword through him, the old man laughed at me and shoved his sword in my hands. Now I see just how cruel he was." Pallas quipped lightly and chuckled a bit more. With the truth coming out, Orphen was determined to keep his friend from serving the same fate, but Pallas was not to let it be.
With a swish of his sword, readying it at his side, the tall swordsman stifled a few more moments of laughter from his lips and seemed to give up on himself. "At this point, friend, I don't care anymore. Call me insane if you like. The name I made for myself when I got this damn sword now haunts me everywhere I go. There really is only one way to break my name." he said with a tone that made Orphen open his stance as well. "I'm going to bury it!" The charge wasn't surprising, but Orphen still had a problem with the entire fight. Not only did he not want to fight Pallas due to their friendship, but also because that Salt Abbey sword was something to be outright respected as a weapon.
Orphen somehow knew Pallas was dragging a bit, for he was able to evade the slash with little effort and roll to his side. What he saw, however, did nothing to encourage his quest to save Pallas. A line now appeared in the wall he had previously been thrown into by Chiron, but it wasn't the line which was of interest. Soon the top half of the ruin came crashing down onto itself and created yet another pile of debris; a scar upon a once beautiful scene. In front of this pile, Pallas stood straight and slung his sword across his shoulder, taunting Orphen with every laugh. "That one was for old time's sake, Orphen. Get serious about this fight or I will make sure they bury you in two pieces."
"We don't have to fight, Pallas. If you get rid of that sword, you'll be able to be normal again. It's what is making you do this!"
"Is that supposed to surprise me? You're not the one who can feel the voices pulsing behind your eyes. You're not the one who feels your skin burn whenever another living creature is near. You're not the one who hears the name of your friend on the lips of your lover!" Pallas raged and pulled his sword to his side again. This time, there was no room for friendship in his attack and Orphen knew it. None of the words registered with him as Pallas meant, but that confession was meant for one person alone.
"Orphen!" a voice called out and broke the pace of the battlefield. While both knew who it was, merely by the melodic tones and sweet breath, Orphen was the only poor fool who reacted to it. Cleo paid the price.
With a deafening slash, Cleo watched Orphen arch backwards into the air, his blood spraying into the air like a mist and his body wrenching violently upon a pile of rubble behind him. As if this sight wasn't cruel enough, it was the swordsman whom she had been searching for that had delivered the blow. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide in confusion and her body trembled from the sheer force of the scene. Pallas had struck Orphen down coldly and remained in his final position, his head tucked down into his shoulder slightly and a single eye piercing the air to her. Breath was no friend to her. The air was putrid to her tongue and even existing in the same world where someone she respected, admired and even loved could do such a thing caused her throat to seize. Orphen was not moving. Majic was still a load on her shoulder. Despite the red mist settling over the ruins and the heavy weight on her, all she could do was stare at Pallas.
Soon, Pallas stood straight before his prey and faced her, bringing all of her fears to a single point that she could not deny as truth. The one man she had committed her body to had now just slain her Orphen and most certainly had something to do with Majic's attack. Pallas seemed like a statue before her, looking down with a bland expression on his face. There was no reading anything in his eyes now, just a dark library of hate and pain.
"Pallas…"
With the name, Majic was let to the ground at her side with no movement from her. Her senses had been overcome with emotion and she only stared like a doll, empty and helpless. Pallas commanded her with cut strings; defined her with every blink of his eye. She felt she could not do anything against him, even as two of her dearest friends lie bleeding on the stone. When Pallas finally spoke, her heart raced and faltered in her chest. "I would never hurt you, Cleo. Even as my mind spins out of control, my heart belongs to you." he spoke in a quiet tone; at the same time, raising his hand into the air for her to take, betraying all that she had seen there and forgive everything he had ever done. Since the moment she had met him, this moment had been in her dreams. His love had been real, for it explained why she was the only one left unharmed and why he was able to appear so alluring to her now. It was a trance he put her in. Against all expectations outside of her heart, her foot moved forward.
"Pallas…" another voice called and severed the trance she was in. Leki had moved to Orphen's side and had woken him from his presumed death. The sorcerer was now wearing a long gash down his chest and stomach, but the wound was superficial and only bleeding from outside his vital organs. Orphen knew that the slash would have halved him, of not for Pallas's name being called to their ears. Even in the last moment before the sword cut his skin, he saw a change in Pallas's face. Things were becoming clear to him.
When she heard him speak, Cleo rushed to Orphen's side and panicked over him, seeing the blood on his clothes and the weakness in his face. It was that moment that Pallas understood and lowered his hand, the opposite clenching around the bane of his greatness. A thousand memories of his life began to flow through his mind, reminding him off all of the good he had done. The fanfare of thousands of people rang in his ears and the smiles of small boys everywhere clouded his eyes. The Rune Fighter of Baloria had been a person who had accomplished much in his life and could rest easy knowing that he had made a difference in the world. Sadly, the man simply known as Pallas would not be remembered for anything, but merely as a side note next to a bold name in history books. That was the tragedy which had polluted his mind.
All the while he was reminiscing, the hilt of the Salt Abbey sword was clinking against other metal, providing a sort of rhythm that would be his last moments. When metal broke free of skin, the warm wind which had been so complacent to them before now blew cool across forgotten flesh. The time was approaching and Pallas smiled to himself. At least he was going to end the Rune Fighter's legend with a grand spectacle.
Cleo had come to terms with herself once again and was frantically trying to explain what had happened to Majic. Orphen was groggy, but he was working his way to sit up and fight back the pain rising in his chest. He was the first to look at Pallas and stop. Cleo was quick to follow.
Pallas held the enchanted armor which had been his protection from magical attacks in his free hand, looking at Orphen and Cleo together as it all things had conspired against him. The meaning of his actions was lost on Cleo, for she could only fight her inner desires, but Orphen new exactly how serious this was. Pallas was granting a final victory to him. "I guess this is the end of the path for me, Orphen. I really couldn't handle the sword as well as you thought I could. It seems fitting that this is how it ends." Pallas lulled and tossed the armor into the air. With a single stroke of the Salt Abbey sword, Pallas shattered his only defense against a magical foe. The shards of the armor fell to the ground at his feet and the swordsman took one last stance. Orphen clenched his teeth while Cleo looked oblivious to the entire thing.
"Don't do this, Pallas. I can't…"
"I'm not giving you a choice, Orphen. You're wounded, as is your little friend. You need to heal the both of you, but you know I won't allow that. To save your friend, you have to, it's as simple as that."
"Pallas…"
"Take good care of her. Even when she was mine, she still called your name. I guess it's the fate of all fools to die this way; alone and smiling. Either way, she can't love both of us!"
No other words were allowed. Pallas made his final charge at Orphen, wielding the cursed sword into a powerful thrust. Orphen was completely torn at this, but his hand began to rise. All the while, Cleo stared in disbelief. In one beautiful moment, she realized just what was going to happen and made a passionate attempt to stop it. Pallas was lunging forward with a sword tip aimed for Orphen's heart while Orphen began to recite the incantation for a powerful magic spell. Cleo grabbed Orphen's arm but could not stop it. All she could do was scream out the name of Pallas, echoing the heartbreak she felt at his decision to end this in the manner he did and also proclaim that she really did love him.
Sound abandoned the ruins as Orphen's magic focused the air between them. Even though Orphen's eyes were narrowed and betrayed by tears, Pallas was smiling the entire time. Just before the point of the Salt Abbey sword was able to pierce his heart, Orphen's spell erupted into Pallas. While the cries of Cleo filled a silent sky, Pallas's body was flung backwards like a doll and broken by the spell. The Salt Abbey sword was sent spinning into the sky, abandoning its owner to the tortures of death as a testament to its treacherous existence. There was no remorse on the face of Pallas; just a complacent smile as his body crashed into the last tower which stood in the ruin.
The attack was not powerful enough to kill a man, as Orphen had intended, so Cleo had pushed herself off the ground to save Pallas. However, Orphen caught her hand and winced when she jerked him, the wound still sapping all of his strength. Cleo was beside herself. "Let me go, Orphen! Pallas! I have to help Pallas!" she howled in tears and reached out for him. Time, once more, had been the enemy. The decrepit tower needed only this small quake to come down onto itself, showering a cold death onto a motionless form. Pallas soon became nothing but the resident of a rocky tomb, completely with headstone as the Salt Abbey sword fell to earth to mourn its owner. Impaling itself in a large stone directly over Pallas's last resting place, it served as a tribute to the man it had destroyed and betrayed its creation.
Cleo broke free from Orphen and rushed to the grave, still possessed with her love for Pallas. When her hand moved to touch a stone, the Salt Abbey sword began to glow, warning her as an intruder not to disturb its master's resting place. As a final act of retribution for eroding Pallas's mind, the sword now became a guardian to his tomb, even to the point of severing his connection of love in the world. Cleo's hand was stunned by a pulse from the sword and she recoiled, holding the pain within her hand as nothing compared the wrenching feeling in her heart.
"Pallas!" she wept and fell to her knees, being nothing but a spot before the pile of massive stones. This had ended in the worst possible way for her; Pallas lie dead under a mass of stone which she could not approach and her legacy to him lay somewhere in her midnight confession he spoke of. It was excruciating, this love she had.
Orphen had been quick to move to Majic, using the little magic he could muster to stabilize him and halt the bleeding of his heart. Though he was drained, both physically and emotionally at killing his close friend, there was more at stake than mourning now. He had to help Majic. Lifting the small boy onto his shoulder, Orphen looked to Cleo with dead eyes. This had also ended badly for him, for only now did he appreciate what was between Cleo and Pallas and, as a cruel fact of the matter, it was he that had killed the man she loved. The fates had a sick sense of humor. "Cleo…"
"Don't come near me!" she howled at him, but could not face him. Orphen winced a bit, but couldn't move to save his ailing friend. The sobs of the young girl were deep, bringing much more to the surface than just her loss of love. Soon, her sobbing voice began to impact him. "I would have gone to him. Even though Majic would have died, I would have gone with him! Why did this have to happen?!" she wailed and buried her hands in her face, unable to face the truth which she had brought upon herself. Orphen's voice was of little comfort to her.
"Pallas wanted it to end this way. I couldn't have beaten him, so he destroyed his defensive armor so my magic could stop him. Cleo, it may not make things better, but he didn't…"
The fact of her appearance saving his life would mean little at this point; it would only prove that Pallas had actually cared more for her than his own life. There was little Orphen could do to stop her pain, but Majic's breathing reminded him. "I have to take Majic to a healer." He said and turned slightly, unable to pry his eyes from her. The things Pallas had said before his death struck him. Things had happened between them, but for some reason Cleo had not gone to him. That would haunt him.
In the midst of Cleo's tears, Orphen began to carry Majic back to Okenforde, beaten by a tragic event which would never be able to leave his dreams. Pallas was dead and Orphen had killed him. Despite all reason or meaning, that was the truth of the matter. Leki lingered a moment, but somehow knew that Cleo had to be alone. The dragon followed Orphen. Cleo was left to listen to her own sobbing as the sun cast a gothic shadow onto the landscape; a final testament to the Rune Fighter of Baloria.
It was Cleo's tears which was monument to Pallas.
The S & S of Calamity
The End
The ancient ruin had been void of life for hundreds of years it seemed. Pewter stone had been overtaken by the lives of a thousand plants, weaving a lattice over forgotten tales and tragedies. It was the kind of setting which pulsed serenity. Rays of the sun bathed the area in warmth and a warm wind cast reeds into a symphony of sound and motion, as if some great play were unfolding before no audience in particular. Scholars and artists could search their entire lives and never fully represent what this place had become.
Such beauty did not remain in the world. A solitary ruin came crashing down into a heap while another form eluded the stones. Once more this place became scarred by the hands of the living and was being reborn into something new and profane. Orphen quickly got his bearings after evading the last attack but stared across the rubble which lay behind him. It could have been his tomb. Death was not yet ready to take him.
"My guide is the death-calling starling!"
The blast of magical energy rippled through the air toward Chiron, but the imp had a small surprise waiting for the sorcerer. Hopping into the air, Chiron suddenly became a missile and darted right towards Orphen and his blast of energy. Those two powerful wings wrapped around him before impacting the attack and, much to Orphen's dismay, Chiron slipped effortlessly through the attack and out the other side. Once in range, Chiron's wings burst open to reveal a malicious shriek, accompanied by a thrusting claw. Orphen had only time to leap to the side before Chiron decimated the ruin below him, sending up a geyser of dirt and stone.
Orphen's breath came out a bit forced as he looked at the damage all while considering Chiron's ease of escape. "My attack didn't even affect him. Who knew an imp would be so resistant to magic attacks?" he whispered to himself and watched Chiron stand straight.
The imp raised his perilous claw into a taunting position and stood poised to deliver more punishment. An expression of arrogance played across his demonic face. "You humans handle magic so carelessly. It's a wonder your kind even know how to use magic at all. You're pathetic." he snarled and the fiery aura of magic on his skin began to flicker and swirl. Although Orphen suspected an attack, Chiron was too fast when he used a magical blast without any kind of incantation. The only reason Orphen was able to survive such an attack was his activation of a defense shield, though even at his full strength, the blast still shattered his shield and sent his body back into a decrepit wall.
Orphen had made an impression in the stone and fell to his knees, leaning heavily onto his hands and watching a splatter of blood fall with each of his breaths. The metallic taste of blood shocked his senses and warned him just how dire this battle was, but this gave him a moment of thought. Why hadn't Pallas jumped in to help him, like he had done so many times before? Had he even moved since the fight started? Was he testing him to see if he had really softened up? Even Pallas knew when to stop a fight and help a friend. However, there was no sign of him so far.
"Though I am surprised your defensive magic was able to block that, no amount of defensive magic will save your from my claws. When I get my claws on you, I'm going to eat your hands first to suck all of the magic out of them. Then I'm going to eat your black heart, sorcerer. I hope you exercise often…I'm trying to watch my figure!"
Chiron's sense of humor had trickled into his true form, just as it was so potent in his docile one. A shrill laughter followed the gruesome intentions and the sound of shifting weight on large claws. Orphen could barely see Chiron's position but he knew that there was another charge in store. This time, he wouldn't be able to avoid those lethal claws.
The idea of dying in this place, with no one he cared about around him and before he was able to save his beloved Azalie, did not sit well with him. His body racked with pain but he had still not been injured that much. His magic attacks did not penetrate Chiron's defense but there were other ways of eluding defense. Orphen was not one to take his own death on his knees. As Chiron lunged forward to tear the sorcerer to pieces, Orphen's hand began to glow slightly as his lips let out a quiet incantation.
"Blade of Satan, whom I call forth…"
Chiron's senses had tweaked at the culmination of magic, but it was too late to react. Orphen's crouched position gave him a perfect platform to lunge forward, a glowing sword of magic at his fingers, and meet the imp in mid-air. A shriek sounded through the ruins and Orphen landed on the ground with his back facing Chiron. The imp, a creature so infused with magic and arrogant as to its nature, stood but a moment before bursting into green flames and incinerate. Chiron had fallen.
Cleo had no control as she worked furiously to tear her dress. Stains of blood already ruined her innocent face and tears ran dark trails down her cheeks to fall like raindrops onto Majic's bloody face. Cleo had found him being assaulted by some fearsome creature, a black shadow which was ready to feed on the young boy. With no fear or consequence, she had called out and ran to stop him, unaware that the foe she sought to halt was nothing she could handle. Even Leki had been reduced to a parade of bluffs, though the small dragon had ran in right next to the blinded girl.
To her shock, the creature took one look at her and disappeared into the air, leaving a badly wounded Majic in her care. Now, as she tried to bandage all of Majic's wounds with fabric from her dress, her tear became hatful towards two she hated loving so much. Where are you Orphen? Pallas? Why didn't you help him?! Why does he have to be so bloody!
A shriek shattered the morning air and startled Cleo, making her stop to cover her ears and be confronted with her own whimpering. Only after her hair became stained with Majic's blood and her ears recovered from the frightening howl did she open her eyes and look at Majic with cleared eyes. "I have to find Orphen. Only he can heal you." she said in a frantic tone while trying to lift Majic's arm up over her shoulder. Her lithe form provided little strength to haul around another, but the situation gave her uncanny strength and helped her lift him. In the direction of the howling, she looked with beauty which pierced the chaos around her. All she could think of was being saved.
"Pallas…Orphen…"
Sound was a relative thing. A dying imp was able to release a cry that could deafen an entire city and still be nothing but a whisper in comparison to what Orphen heard next. Applause. The sound of Pallas's hands clapping together popped in his ears and seemed to shake the foundation of the ruins themselves. It was the realization that Orphen had not yet fought the true villain of Okenforde, but merely the pawn. His true nemesis had been watching the battle all along.
"I knew you had it in you, Orphen. Chiron was something which was born in magic, but he was too arrogant and his foresight was going to kill him someday. I'm not surprised that it was you who did it though. Not even I had the heart to kill him. You truly are a mystic of the black arts."
Pallas's voice had taken on a completely new life of its own and Orphen could find no semblance of his friend in it. Standing straight after defeating Chiron, Orphen faced Pallas for the first time with the realization of his true intent. Pallas appeared the exact same to him, but only now he was an enemy. That was something which Orphen found hard to swallow. "Why are you doing this, Pallas? What happened to you?"
To respond to that question, Pallas gripped the hilt of his sword and slowly pulled it from his scabbard. The sound made Orphen wince. Pallas held the sword with both hands in front of him, looking at the blade as if it were a representation of his very existence. There was affection and hatred for this sword, but Pallas only spoke sincerely as his voice defied nature and remained whole around its blade. "Do you know how the Salt Abbey sword was created, Orphen? Do you know why it contains the power that it does?" Pallas asked without expecting any kind of response. Orphen knew of these tactics, for Pallas had used them many times before. The swordsman could hold a casual conversation while facing dozen of armed guards and it was like a pebble being thrown into a pond. Ripples of doubt and fear would move through the enemy until Pallas could utilize his attacks to destroy them. Now Orphen found himself on the receiving end of this brutal tactic.
"There was a religious convent located at the shore of a great salt lake. The monks who lived in this place were great craftsmen and used their skills to build weapons, machines and anything else someone could afford. The glitter of gold was more sacred than any god they knew. Well, you see, one day they were contracted to build a very special sword. The buyer was a famous warlord. His name was Enki."
Orphen's face had frozen at the name which was spoken and Pallas's reaction to it caused him to smile slightly. "I see you've heard of him. Yes, Orphen, it was this sword which was the heart of Daikuro's empire. You see, the reason it wields such a power is because of how Enki took possession of it." Orphen felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him as Pallas's right eye was obscured by the blade, leaving him to focus on a single tunnel into his friend's lost mind. Pallas held the sword ceremonially in front of him.
"It took three years for the monks to create this sword. They imported steel and other metals from all over the word to create it. With the mountain of gold Enki promised them, they felt any sacrifice necessary. Unfortunately for them, they did not know what kind of man Enki was. The convent was tragically burned down by the very forge which made this sword. Every one of the monks died. You can imagine the betrayal they felt as they burned to death within their own mill. You see, even impious monks have a sort of agreement with magic and the unknown. To repay Enki for his treachery, the monks' souls saturated this sword, which Enki named Salt Abbey as an ironic touch, and thus it has become something of great power of which you already know."
Orphen stared at the blade of Pallas's sword with a trembling fist, mostly because the truth of that story perfectly described the sword's power. However, he also knew now how Pallas came across the sword and why he was acting the way he was now. "Since you were the one who stopped Enki, you took the sword from him. Pallas, I know what happened to you. I know what that sword does to their owners!" he called out in an effort to save his friend. Pallas laughed darkly as his eyes reflected his own admission.
"Drives them insane? How do you think I was able to stop the mighty Enki when he held such a powerful sword? The poor fool was in a fit when I found him at Baloria. He had slaughtered his own generals and was working on his harem of courtiers when I broke the lines. As grand as the stories say, all I did was run at him with my sword. He was too crazy to even defend himself. After I had ran my sword through him, the old man laughed at me and shoved his sword in my hands. Now I see just how cruel he was." Pallas quipped lightly and chuckled a bit more. With the truth coming out, Orphen was determined to keep his friend from serving the same fate, but Pallas was not to let it be.
With a swish of his sword, readying it at his side, the tall swordsman stifled a few more moments of laughter from his lips and seemed to give up on himself. "At this point, friend, I don't care anymore. Call me insane if you like. The name I made for myself when I got this damn sword now haunts me everywhere I go. There really is only one way to break my name." he said with a tone that made Orphen open his stance as well. "I'm going to bury it!" The charge wasn't surprising, but Orphen still had a problem with the entire fight. Not only did he not want to fight Pallas due to their friendship, but also because that Salt Abbey sword was something to be outright respected as a weapon.
Orphen somehow knew Pallas was dragging a bit, for he was able to evade the slash with little effort and roll to his side. What he saw, however, did nothing to encourage his quest to save Pallas. A line now appeared in the wall he had previously been thrown into by Chiron, but it wasn't the line which was of interest. Soon the top half of the ruin came crashing down onto itself and created yet another pile of debris; a scar upon a once beautiful scene. In front of this pile, Pallas stood straight and slung his sword across his shoulder, taunting Orphen with every laugh. "That one was for old time's sake, Orphen. Get serious about this fight or I will make sure they bury you in two pieces."
"We don't have to fight, Pallas. If you get rid of that sword, you'll be able to be normal again. It's what is making you do this!"
"Is that supposed to surprise me? You're not the one who can feel the voices pulsing behind your eyes. You're not the one who feels your skin burn whenever another living creature is near. You're not the one who hears the name of your friend on the lips of your lover!" Pallas raged and pulled his sword to his side again. This time, there was no room for friendship in his attack and Orphen knew it. None of the words registered with him as Pallas meant, but that confession was meant for one person alone.
"Orphen!" a voice called out and broke the pace of the battlefield. While both knew who it was, merely by the melodic tones and sweet breath, Orphen was the only poor fool who reacted to it. Cleo paid the price.
With a deafening slash, Cleo watched Orphen arch backwards into the air, his blood spraying into the air like a mist and his body wrenching violently upon a pile of rubble behind him. As if this sight wasn't cruel enough, it was the swordsman whom she had been searching for that had delivered the blow. Her mouth was hanging open, her eyes wide in confusion and her body trembled from the sheer force of the scene. Pallas had struck Orphen down coldly and remained in his final position, his head tucked down into his shoulder slightly and a single eye piercing the air to her. Breath was no friend to her. The air was putrid to her tongue and even existing in the same world where someone she respected, admired and even loved could do such a thing caused her throat to seize. Orphen was not moving. Majic was still a load on her shoulder. Despite the red mist settling over the ruins and the heavy weight on her, all she could do was stare at Pallas.
Soon, Pallas stood straight before his prey and faced her, bringing all of her fears to a single point that she could not deny as truth. The one man she had committed her body to had now just slain her Orphen and most certainly had something to do with Majic's attack. Pallas seemed like a statue before her, looking down with a bland expression on his face. There was no reading anything in his eyes now, just a dark library of hate and pain.
"Pallas…"
With the name, Majic was let to the ground at her side with no movement from her. Her senses had been overcome with emotion and she only stared like a doll, empty and helpless. Pallas commanded her with cut strings; defined her with every blink of his eye. She felt she could not do anything against him, even as two of her dearest friends lie bleeding on the stone. When Pallas finally spoke, her heart raced and faltered in her chest. "I would never hurt you, Cleo. Even as my mind spins out of control, my heart belongs to you." he spoke in a quiet tone; at the same time, raising his hand into the air for her to take, betraying all that she had seen there and forgive everything he had ever done. Since the moment she had met him, this moment had been in her dreams. His love had been real, for it explained why she was the only one left unharmed and why he was able to appear so alluring to her now. It was a trance he put her in. Against all expectations outside of her heart, her foot moved forward.
"Pallas…" another voice called and severed the trance she was in. Leki had moved to Orphen's side and had woken him from his presumed death. The sorcerer was now wearing a long gash down his chest and stomach, but the wound was superficial and only bleeding from outside his vital organs. Orphen knew that the slash would have halved him, of not for Pallas's name being called to their ears. Even in the last moment before the sword cut his skin, he saw a change in Pallas's face. Things were becoming clear to him.
When she heard him speak, Cleo rushed to Orphen's side and panicked over him, seeing the blood on his clothes and the weakness in his face. It was that moment that Pallas understood and lowered his hand, the opposite clenching around the bane of his greatness. A thousand memories of his life began to flow through his mind, reminding him off all of the good he had done. The fanfare of thousands of people rang in his ears and the smiles of small boys everywhere clouded his eyes. The Rune Fighter of Baloria had been a person who had accomplished much in his life and could rest easy knowing that he had made a difference in the world. Sadly, the man simply known as Pallas would not be remembered for anything, but merely as a side note next to a bold name in history books. That was the tragedy which had polluted his mind.
All the while he was reminiscing, the hilt of the Salt Abbey sword was clinking against other metal, providing a sort of rhythm that would be his last moments. When metal broke free of skin, the warm wind which had been so complacent to them before now blew cool across forgotten flesh. The time was approaching and Pallas smiled to himself. At least he was going to end the Rune Fighter's legend with a grand spectacle.
Cleo had come to terms with herself once again and was frantically trying to explain what had happened to Majic. Orphen was groggy, but he was working his way to sit up and fight back the pain rising in his chest. He was the first to look at Pallas and stop. Cleo was quick to follow.
Pallas held the enchanted armor which had been his protection from magical attacks in his free hand, looking at Orphen and Cleo together as it all things had conspired against him. The meaning of his actions was lost on Cleo, for she could only fight her inner desires, but Orphen new exactly how serious this was. Pallas was granting a final victory to him. "I guess this is the end of the path for me, Orphen. I really couldn't handle the sword as well as you thought I could. It seems fitting that this is how it ends." Pallas lulled and tossed the armor into the air. With a single stroke of the Salt Abbey sword, Pallas shattered his only defense against a magical foe. The shards of the armor fell to the ground at his feet and the swordsman took one last stance. Orphen clenched his teeth while Cleo looked oblivious to the entire thing.
"Don't do this, Pallas. I can't…"
"I'm not giving you a choice, Orphen. You're wounded, as is your little friend. You need to heal the both of you, but you know I won't allow that. To save your friend, you have to, it's as simple as that."
"Pallas…"
"Take good care of her. Even when she was mine, she still called your name. I guess it's the fate of all fools to die this way; alone and smiling. Either way, she can't love both of us!"
No other words were allowed. Pallas made his final charge at Orphen, wielding the cursed sword into a powerful thrust. Orphen was completely torn at this, but his hand began to rise. All the while, Cleo stared in disbelief. In one beautiful moment, she realized just what was going to happen and made a passionate attempt to stop it. Pallas was lunging forward with a sword tip aimed for Orphen's heart while Orphen began to recite the incantation for a powerful magic spell. Cleo grabbed Orphen's arm but could not stop it. All she could do was scream out the name of Pallas, echoing the heartbreak she felt at his decision to end this in the manner he did and also proclaim that she really did love him.
Sound abandoned the ruins as Orphen's magic focused the air between them. Even though Orphen's eyes were narrowed and betrayed by tears, Pallas was smiling the entire time. Just before the point of the Salt Abbey sword was able to pierce his heart, Orphen's spell erupted into Pallas. While the cries of Cleo filled a silent sky, Pallas's body was flung backwards like a doll and broken by the spell. The Salt Abbey sword was sent spinning into the sky, abandoning its owner to the tortures of death as a testament to its treacherous existence. There was no remorse on the face of Pallas; just a complacent smile as his body crashed into the last tower which stood in the ruin.
The attack was not powerful enough to kill a man, as Orphen had intended, so Cleo had pushed herself off the ground to save Pallas. However, Orphen caught her hand and winced when she jerked him, the wound still sapping all of his strength. Cleo was beside herself. "Let me go, Orphen! Pallas! I have to help Pallas!" she howled in tears and reached out for him. Time, once more, had been the enemy. The decrepit tower needed only this small quake to come down onto itself, showering a cold death onto a motionless form. Pallas soon became nothing but the resident of a rocky tomb, completely with headstone as the Salt Abbey sword fell to earth to mourn its owner. Impaling itself in a large stone directly over Pallas's last resting place, it served as a tribute to the man it had destroyed and betrayed its creation.
Cleo broke free from Orphen and rushed to the grave, still possessed with her love for Pallas. When her hand moved to touch a stone, the Salt Abbey sword began to glow, warning her as an intruder not to disturb its master's resting place. As a final act of retribution for eroding Pallas's mind, the sword now became a guardian to his tomb, even to the point of severing his connection of love in the world. Cleo's hand was stunned by a pulse from the sword and she recoiled, holding the pain within her hand as nothing compared the wrenching feeling in her heart.
"Pallas!" she wept and fell to her knees, being nothing but a spot before the pile of massive stones. This had ended in the worst possible way for her; Pallas lie dead under a mass of stone which she could not approach and her legacy to him lay somewhere in her midnight confession he spoke of. It was excruciating, this love she had.
Orphen had been quick to move to Majic, using the little magic he could muster to stabilize him and halt the bleeding of his heart. Though he was drained, both physically and emotionally at killing his close friend, there was more at stake than mourning now. He had to help Majic. Lifting the small boy onto his shoulder, Orphen looked to Cleo with dead eyes. This had also ended badly for him, for only now did he appreciate what was between Cleo and Pallas and, as a cruel fact of the matter, it was he that had killed the man she loved. The fates had a sick sense of humor. "Cleo…"
"Don't come near me!" she howled at him, but could not face him. Orphen winced a bit, but couldn't move to save his ailing friend. The sobs of the young girl were deep, bringing much more to the surface than just her loss of love. Soon, her sobbing voice began to impact him. "I would have gone to him. Even though Majic would have died, I would have gone with him! Why did this have to happen?!" she wailed and buried her hands in her face, unable to face the truth which she had brought upon herself. Orphen's voice was of little comfort to her.
"Pallas wanted it to end this way. I couldn't have beaten him, so he destroyed his defensive armor so my magic could stop him. Cleo, it may not make things better, but he didn't…"
The fact of her appearance saving his life would mean little at this point; it would only prove that Pallas had actually cared more for her than his own life. There was little Orphen could do to stop her pain, but Majic's breathing reminded him. "I have to take Majic to a healer." He said and turned slightly, unable to pry his eyes from her. The things Pallas had said before his death struck him. Things had happened between them, but for some reason Cleo had not gone to him. That would haunt him.
In the midst of Cleo's tears, Orphen began to carry Majic back to Okenforde, beaten by a tragic event which would never be able to leave his dreams. Pallas was dead and Orphen had killed him. Despite all reason or meaning, that was the truth of the matter. Leki lingered a moment, but somehow knew that Cleo had to be alone. The dragon followed Orphen. Cleo was left to listen to her own sobbing as the sun cast a gothic shadow onto the landscape; a final testament to the Rune Fighter of Baloria.
It was Cleo's tears which was monument to Pallas.
The S & S of Calamity
The End