Fire of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 4)

SEVENTEEN

The first thing to be noted about the Conqueror’s flames was that it wasn’t in reality actually a flame. What it was was a long golden-coloured staff around which runes of various shapes and sizes had been carved. The runes ran from the base of the staff to its top where a large crystal was located in the form of a raging fire. It was a sight of awe, and of magic; as the group itself soon confirmed the moment they laid eyes on it.

But the Conqueror's flames wasn’t the only thing on the ground. Turned out that patrolling around the staff were twelve guards who held wicked-looking spears; they were manning the area bordered by four wolves which laid down but looked ready to spring at a moment's notice at the corners of the ground. Obviously, they were all guarding the flames.

Quickly before they were spotted, the group huddled behind some jagged rocks out of sight of the guards below. "What now?" Freya whispered to them. "Obviously, those men won't just hand us the Conqueror's flames, not even if we tell them that they're about to lose it anyway.”

"Actually, I believe the more pressing question is how in the Creator’s name are there even guards down there to begin with?" Morgan pointed out instead. “I mean, the supposed time the flames was last seen was about a thousand years ago, wasn’t it?”

Looking back down from behind their hiding place, everyone realised that Morgan was actually right.

Thing is, at first glance, the guards looked normal, just like any other group of their kind. But on a closer inspection, they saw that their steel armours had taken on a rusty red colour; almost as if they'd been exposed to the elements for quite a long time. Even the wolves whose furs must have been white at some point had become dull in an aged sort of way, which from a logical point of view was supposed to impossible.

"The symbol on their armours," Richard noted from where he hid, "it's that of crossed swords underneath a crown."

"And?" Kyra couldn’t make sense of the king’s note even as she tried.

"Well, it belongs to the rebels against the Empire," he replied, "particularly Edmund's resistance".

"Wait, Edmund?" Isidora returned, looking a little confused. "As in, the last king of the realm before the Empire Oswald's son?" Richard nodded affirmative and a loud groan escaped everyone’s lip at almost the same time; the whole situation was starting to turn absolutely weird.

Thing is, if all the evidence they were gathering was to be believed, it would mean that no one was able to find the Conqueror's flames because it was stolen from the Conqueror by Edmund, the only son of Oswald who was the last standing king of the realm before the Empire, who then had it transported to its present location to be guarded by the men below for around a thousand years. Of course, all those events should be impossible all things considered, especially the part where the men below were still standing guard after a thousand years.

"Well, impossible or not, we still have to get the Conqueror's flames," Lucian told the group, steering back the conversation to the original matter at hand. "Any idea on how we do that?"

Richard mused over the matter for a while. "Morgan and Freya, you handle the wolves," he said after a while, looking at the twins who nodded their consent. "The rest of us will take care of the guards."

"If I'm going to go at those wolves, then I'm going to need a dagger," Freya said before the plan could be put into action.

"What for?" asked Lucian although handing her his immediately. "What exactly is a dagger supposed to do against four muscular beasts?"

"You just watch," she replied before pricking her index finger with it.

Immediately the scent of blood filled the air, the wolves piped up; all of them growling as they stood up and began to search for the source of the smell.

"Morgan, you'll draw the wolves," she said to him, rubbing his palms with her blood, "I'll put them down."

Clear on the plan, Morgan rushed out of his hiding place and the wolves immediately started on his tail. Just as one of them leaped in the air towards him, Freya stood up and let her arrow loose; the weapon flying directly into the eye of the beast and effectively putting an end to it. The others on seeing that one of the pack was down turned towards her; their fangs bared in readiness to attack. But they never got to run as Morgan threw his battle axes at them; catching one in the side and cleanly beheading another. Which left only one that looked really pissed off at them.

"The twins have already done their part," Richard said as he stood up and unsheathed his sword, "let's go do ours."

Immediately the guards saw the king, they pointed their spears out and charged at him with a battle cry. But unknown to them, he wasn't actually the one that was leading the charge; it was Isidora. Just as the two parties were about to clash, the dark witch suddenly appeared between them in a wave of purple smoke; unleashing a wave of dark energy that shattered two of the guards to pieces and sent the rest of them flying backwards. The rest of the group went on the advantage from then on; all of them dispatching of the guards before they could even get back on their feet to resist.

"Well, that was easy," Freya said as she came sliding down the slope with Morgan in tow, a smile on her face at the victory. "Even the last of the wolves is down."

But just as the group wanted to go and claim their prize, the ground suddenly began to rumble underneath them. Looking around, they saw a fiery red energy moving through the ground; it actually originated from the staff and was flowing towards the fallen guards.

Immediately the energy reached the guards, their bodies began to twitch as all their wounds sew shut, not even leaving a scar. They stood back on their feet as if they were never fallen in the first place; their spears flying back into their hands by themselves just as their feet touched the ground. A growl came from above and it became no secret that even the wolves were risen again.

"Oh boy!" Morgan whispered as he saw all that was before him. "We’re so in one void of a trouble."