Forgotten Embers

Chapter 40: Resignation

Zephyr had ordered the mage-royal to the roof of the spire, a defensive position at the palace center from which they would cover the area in magic, surrounding it with a constraining barrier and thereby cutting off the escape of the officials and Caliphus. Additionally, he had called a meeting of the ten to be held in the chambers of the High Court. 

Blackridge had sent Dehnhardt ahead of him with Kallida and now made his way alone through the empty halls of High Palace. He went quickly through the royal bedchambers patterned in red and gold, into the hidden passage behind the wardrobe, and walked down the stone hall which led to the lofty spiral stairs of the tower. He hurriedly made his ascent, his feet propelling him each step ever higher. He reached the top of the staircase, a wooden platform around the edge of the circular tower with ladders leading upwards to the archers' stations and a door leading out onto the slanted roof. 

He quietly opened the door with care, inspecting the scene. The roof was sloped, covered in dark maurium tiles with a stone base around the perimeter. The stone portion was walled, flat, and about a three foot drop from the base of the spire. 

Charlenade stood directly to the right of the door, directing the five remaining members of the mage-royal who stood expertly positioned around the base of the spire. They stood with their palms raised, chanting some ancient incantation. Sparkling mist of poisoned red fell around them and shot up like pillars in the sky, each descending as an arc, growing and solidifying as a barrier upon the ground. 

'This is a constriction barrier, a sorcerer's entrapment. This isn't what Zephyr ordered. This is far worse! As the barrier constricts, the particles will begin to fall, releasing a poisonous gas, and...' he looked down, examining the grounds. There were hundreds of civilians still trapped within the bounds of the barrier. 'They will kill every last one of them.' 

He spotted Benjamin and Avera running towards the massive gates of the palace with Kypher and Atticus following, defending against the pursuant guards. 

'Of course, they can always just blame it on Caliphus. They already accused them of terrorism. It wouldn't be much of a stretch.' 

"Charlenade," Blackridge said, stepping out onto the roof and stretching his left arm out towards the barrier, "what is this you're doing? Zephyr ordered a constraining barrier not a constriction entrapment." 

Charlenade turned his face slowly towards him. "Lord Blackridge," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "You shouldn't be here. The king summoned you to his court. Which begs the question of why you are here. Tell me, is it peace?"

"What have you to do with peace? Those people will die, Charlenade!" he shouted. 

"Everyone dies, Blackridge," Charlenade told him, unfeeling. His green eyes sparkled with the reflection of the red death around them. "Which brings us back to the original question of why you're here. Is it treason, then? You know, loyalty is a sin amongst rebels." He turned to look away.  

'Reckless, heartless, uncaring...' Blackridge drew his sword, his blood boiling. 'You dare to speak of strength... you're a bunch of murderous cowards!' His breathing hardened.

"Fighting?" Charlenade asked, not looking at him. "Good, then. I've always hated you, anyway," he told him, turning back in his direction. 

Blackridge was seething. 

"You are one of them, aren't you? An armorial. It seems strange, but... I understand you have some connection to that i***t Webber." 

Charlenade's head turned with the impact as Blackridge punched him, his gloved fist sinking into his left cheek and the knuckle guard of the sword cutting into his pale skin. 

After a time of short, momentary shock, Charlenade reached over with his right hand and touched his sore and bleeding skin. Slowly, he removed his fingers from his face, looking at the dark red stains smeared across the dirtied white of his gloved hand. He turned to Blackridge and smiled. "I had hoped to be the one to kill you."

"And I had hoped you wouldn't have to die," Blackridge told him sternly, sword in hand.

"Hehe," Charlenade chuckled dryly as the dark clouds gathered and a sword solidified in his hand, its blade forged in the shadows of enchantment. "You always were weak." 

'Again, what is weakness?' 

Blackridge breathed a strange utterance and a fire began to flow through him, making its way to his hand and winding itself around his sword, covering it in liquid light from grip to point, the deep grey of the maurium blade fading slowly into the sparkling white of pyrite. 

He looked on it and smiled. 'Thank you.' 

"Well, Charlenade, shall we begin then?"

"Let's," Charlenade spat, striking at him with his sword. 

Blackridge met his strike, the two swords colliding with a resounding clang. The two men danced around the gradient tiles, each attempting to catch the other man off guard. 

Charlenade jumped back from a collision, putting space between himself and Balckridge. He bent down to steady himself, his hand touching the maurium tile. "You are as good as they say," Charlenade smirked, "but none better."

"You could've turned back from this, Charlenade," Blackridge reminded him, moving his sword to the side and maintaining his position. 

'You all had your chance. Now is the time for the reckoning.' 

"We don't want your King, Blackridge. We have our own," Charlenade spoke in defiance. He stood to his feet and readied his sword. "We have crowned him with might, and we will break your bands asunder. We will cast away your cords, and we will establish for ourselves an empire here." 

"Very well," Blackridge said, "if you have your king, then you will have no need for mine." 

Charlenade charged at him directly, his feet moving swiftly across the slanted slate. 

'This is the end, then,' he told himself, unmoving. 'He's broadcasting his attack.' 

Charlenade rushed in, taking a slicing downward swing at his neck and upper torso. 

He stood and waited for Charlenade to strike. Anticipating the blow, he sunk down, and Charlenade's blade passed over him. Blackridge took aim, and, aligning his sword, he thrust it into Charlenade's abdomen, skewering him. He felt the impact as the blade tore through his opponent's body. 

Charlenade's sword vanished into smoke and vapors as his power left him, and he fell to his knees, his body doubled over the sword. His pale green eyes looked toward Blackridge, beginning to gloss over. 

Blackridge closed his eyes, not willing to see the blood as it began to seep through and saturate the illustrious white garments which Charlenade was wearing. 

"Why," Charlenade gasped, his life force draining, "do you never die?"

"Because I am weak," Blackridge told him softly, "I do have need of Him."

Charlenade's blood began to drip to the ground beneath them. Blackridge pulled back his sword and Charlenade collapsed onto the maurium tile in a lifeless heap, his fine hair falling as a platinum curtain over the soft skin of his white cheek. 

"Goodbye, Charlenade," he said, rising to his feet. "I have need to bring forth deliverance to these people you have held as captives for so long." 

His eyes turned to the horizon. The red wall of the constriction entrapment had already begun to close in, slowly raining the particles of poisoned magic down on all those trapped inside - guards, officials, and citizens alike. 

He gripped his sword, his heart aflame and determination renewed. 

"Will you fight me, also?" he asked the mage-royal as he approached, each man's back turned to him. "Or are you so lost in incantation that I can..." he thrust his sword through the mage's cloak, piercing the man through. 

Immediately, a fifth of the barrier dropped, the magic disintegrating. He removed the sword, and the man fell forward, dropping to the stone of the castle wall below the spire's edge. 

He looked around. The others of the mage-royal were likewise entranced. 

"This will make things easy," he muttered, and he repeated the process with the other four, each man dropping to the stone of the castle wall below. He stared down at the sixth man when he fell and the barrier was fully dissolved. 

'I fought for all these years to avoid killing anyone, even Kallida... they said I was weak, but... still, they left me no choice.' 

He turned and made his way back towards the door and paused beside Charlenade, contemplating his lifeless form.

'How could a man become so wicked?' 

He sheathed his bloodied sword, looking to the open doorway. There Benson stood staring at him, trembling with his mouth agape. 

"L-l-lord Blackridge," he stammered.

"Benson," he said, surprised. 

"C-colonel G-garner s-said you had n-need of me, sir," he told him, his panicked eyes moving rapidly between Blackridge and Charlenade. 

'Garner?' Blackridge considered, perplexed. 'But I haven't spoken with Garner, and I certainly wouldn't have sent for anyone.' 

Benson was becoming increasingly uneasy with the enduring silence of Blackridge's confusion. 

'What was Garner... wait! Wasn't Benson...' He smiled, coming to a sudden realization. 'Good old Marcus.' 

"Benson," he said, "can you take a message for me?"

"Y-yes, sir," Benson nervously stammered. 

"Good!" Blackridge said, smiling. "Consider this my resignation. Tell Zephyr I'm through working for him. I don't want any more part of his bloodshed. The remainder of the King's Court awaits my presence at chambers. I won't be joining them. So, please, tell them, as I said, that you may consider this my resignation."

"Yes, sir," Benson said hurriedly, turning quickly to go.

"Oh, and Benson," Blackridge called after him, causing the man to freeze on the stairs with fright. "Leave Garner out of it, if at all possible. He had no part in this."