The sun came down unforgivingly on the desolate plain. Red weeds, rough and dry, blew in a weak wind. The weeds made a loud rustling noise as they all shook in unison, spread out across large stretches of land until they came to a line of tall, bare trees. The scratching in the air eventually faded to silence, broken only by some creature beating its wings as it flew. The giant shadow floated across the orange-red canvas that was supposed to be the sky.
A figure with glowing red jewel-like eyes stood in the shade of the bare trees. At the edge of the barren forest, it eyed the flying creature with an unchanging gaze. Behind this static visage was the mind of a thinker, a mind that was set on a mission. The figure shuffled its feet, heavy, dark gray metal boots scraping away at layers of dry dirt. With its decision made, the shape at the treeline started to advance into the open.
The shadows seemed to peel off of him even before the light of the sun touched his blue robe. The gold trim of the robe glimmered with brilliant light as under his hood, his face disappeared into darkness, a darkness which defied the wisps of light spilling from his eyes. And in truth, this was indeed the case; tendrils of light started to emerge from his back at around shoulder level. Numbering six in total, the whips of golden light wafted through the air behind him in a spellbinding, gravity defying display. They moved with haunting grace despite the rigid march of the armored being. He exuded a warm glow, creating a circumference wherein the area inside was covered in a sun-yellow light.
In a vast open plain where shades of red were the primary color scheme, the light of the armored being was overwhelmingly noticeable even from such a high altitude. The shadowy shape of the creature in the sky twisted and writhed. Its wings, bat-like in nature, flared out to either side of it, resulting in a striking silhouette directly against the sun. The armored figure stopped walking and simply kept on looking up at the creature, unmoving, unfazed.
The dark shape appeared to hang in the sky for a moment before it abruptly began to grow in size. It was already large at a distance, but as it dove toward the armored being, it quickly proved to be even more enormous than that. Leaving the glare of the sun behind it, the robed figure was finally able to make out its features. It was the color of bleached bones and slender in build. A long, serpentine neck supported a blunt snouted head at the end of it. Its wings, held outwards and level with its body were utterly huge. Their leading edges were lined with barbs and spikes. Four legs were tucked into itself as it skimmed across the weeds, a cloud of dust trailing in its wake. Blade-like dorsal spines ran down the length of its body from head to tail.
It had all the characteristics of a dragon to be sure, but Desrium did not consider this creature a dragon. While many others viewed dragons as vicious, destructive beasts – and a good number were – Desrium did not regard them all as such. This was due to his closest friends, Septimus and Jiier, separated from him by distance and the bindings of existence, respectably. Septimus showed him that dragons could be as cunning and intelligent as they were loyal and brave. Jiier showed him the true meaning of courage and will, and when the time came for it, the ultimate act of selflessness when he sacrificed his life for the future of the world.
This creature – this dragon in name only – was a disgrace in Desrium’s eyes. Even in the heat of combat, dropping low beneath the monster’s maw and avoiding the swipes of its forearms as it passed overhead, he could not help thinking how far it had fallen from grace. He stood up amidst the billowing wind the beast’s passing caused, the dust rushing past him, the fabric of his robe ruffling. It shot upwards into the air and spun around to face him. It began to beat its wings, keeping itself at a hover several yards above the ground. Desrium only stared at it with his unblinking eyes.
“An unmatched potential for good,” he thought. The dragon sprung, beating its wings powerfully as it arched its body forwards, swooping down at him. Its forelimbs extended, claws bared to slice the armored warrior into shreds. “Wasted.”
The tendrils of light whipped outwards in an instant. An opaque membrane of gold formed in between them, three on each side of the Justicar. They were the wings of light, and Desrium dropped into a low crouch on all fours before kicking off of the ground with inhuman strength. Clumps of dirt and bits of red weed followed him skywards as he spun end over end, leveling out with the aid of the wings. He slammed into the face of the albino monster but was no worse for wear from the impact. No, instead he grappled with the flying beast, his red eyes staring into its soulless black ones. It let out a low, guttural growl as its bony brow fixed itself in a glare. Desrium remained silent.
It thrashed its head side to side as it flew erratic patterns over the crimson field. Desrium held fast, one hand holding onto a dorsal spine, the other hooked onto a smooth, sunken in groove on the creature’s skull that served as an effective handhold. The monster bucked especially hard and Desrium released his grip, being propelled higher into the air. His extended wings ensured that he never faced away from the dragon and they slowed his eventual descent like a parachute. The monster angled itself so that its jaws were pointed right at him before flapping its wings and streamlining its body. It soared straight like a rocket.
Desrium angled his wings in different directions, swinging himself around the toothy end of the creature before wrapping them around himself. His metal body plummeted like a stone and he smashed into the bridge of the monster’s nose feet first with an impact that would have killed any lesser creature instantly. Instead however, the scale underneath his boots heaved a bit; blood flowed from the beast’s nostrils and Desrium flipped end over end down the length of the creature’s head until he caught onto a dorsal spike.
The dragon bellowed angrily, one of its most potent senses crippled in such a callous manner. It then began to spiral through the air, intent on sending its opponent flying off into the great yonder, to send him soaring to his doom. Desrium was lifted off of the dragon’s hide, his legs dangling as he was spun, but his vice grip could not be broken by such means. He let go again and his wings shot out, slowing him down immensely before he too began to twist around, spinning like a top several feet away from the monster. From one of his sleeves came an ornate gold and silver weapon that could not have possibly fit in his robe, much less be stored in the length of his arm. It was a long spear that was headed with sharp twin blades. He extended the weapon as he spun, its range combined with his spin resulting in several clean slices across the dragon’s scales before he came out of the spin, slowly falling alongside the furious monster.
It struck out with its tail, whipping Desrium in the head. The blow warranted a resounding thud and sent the Justicar tumbling through the air. In spite of this, he did not release the spear. He righted himself seconds before the dragon crashed into him again, bowling him through the air against its snout. He held the spear away from the dragon with one hand as its jaw began to open and swung his boots into the creature’s mouth. With his feet firmly pressed against its bottom jaw, he pushed against the roof of its top jaw with his free hand, resisting the dragon’s attempts to snap its mouth shut with him inside. Puffs of vapor surrounded Desrium with every exhale of the monster’s breath.
Desrium tossed his arm up a few times, relaxing and tightening his grip as he did to readjust his hold on the spear. When he was satisfied, his hand was nearly centered from the tip of the twin blades and the end of the weapon’s rod. He twirled the spear around in his hand so that its blades pointed downwards and then skewered the monster’s tongue with a thrust. It made a low, moaning sound of anguish. Desrium twisted the blades, a well of dark blood seeping up from pinkish flesh. With another twirl of the spear, the Justicar had lopped off a fair portion of the organ.
The dragon thrashed as its mouth flew open. It howled, spurting blood. Desrium, accompanied by the severed piece of tongue, was thrown to the wind. Unlike the tongue however, Desrium returned to the dragon with the beat of his ethereal wings, hanging on by the flap of its gum. Desrium stabbed the monster here as well and then scored the blades across it, flaying it. Blood ran free, the flesh fluttered in the air current, the dragon made another agonized cry. The Justicar started to scale up the side of the beast’s head, buffeted by the gales of flight.
They were incredibly high in the air now. The pillaged landscape below became a scrawling patchwork of deep browns, black and red with few defining details to set any one place apart to the average eye. Desrium was no stranger to being this high up. When Septimus was still with him in this forsaken land, he rode on the dragon’s back, experiencing the flight of a dragon first hand. Few would have survived such forces being exerted upon their bodies, but the Justicar and his Scholar companion took to the skies time after time. This accursed beast was not a dragon, so it did not have the same right to the sky, and Desrium was not riding it, he was going to command it. Such a thing would have been impossible with any true wild drake because of their massive pride, but this foul creature had no such pride if it had been subjugated by the demonic forces. A true dragon would die before submitting to another will.
“By the Dawnmother’s grace, you will concede,” he relayed to the creature when he passed the depression at the back of its skull, what served as its ears. His voice was monotone and the command was soft spoken, lacking any of the passion that the warrior truly felt underneath his metal shell.
The creature snarled defiantly. Its lips curled, stained red by its own blood. “By the blades of the Lance, you will concede,” Desrium said. The dragon shook its head from side to side. Desrium responded by swinging his spear-wielding arm outwards and then driving its lethal end into the space behind a boney ridge. The masterwork weapon passed through scale, dragon bone and came out the other side. The dragon bellowed then, for the Justicar had struck a much more devastating blow than just a simple stabbing. The eye on that side of the dragon’s head was flushed red with free-flowing blood. A single clean incision was left across it, left by the edge of one of the twin prongs when they did their deadly work.
“By the Justicar’s decree, you will concede.”
He wrenched the spear from the wound and pushed off of the dragon. As he fell past it, he slashed at its skin and wing before grabbing ahold once more near the end of its tail. Its tailfins were broad and flat, twitching occasionally as they steered the beast through the air. By now it was flying in a corkscrew, the sky and ground liberally changing positions in a vertigo inducing dance.
That is, until Desrium drove the Lance into the creature’s tail, right in between the two fins. Up ahead, the creature let out a roar that sounded more like it was choking on the very air it breathed. He jerked the lance in one direction and, having no choice but to comply with the movement lest it ended up losing its ability to steer, the dragon tilted its fins in that direction. The dragon pulled out of its tantrum spiral and quickly became level in the air. Desrium continued to force the dragon to steer how he wanted, covering miles of land in the span of twenty or so minutes.
The red plains and barren forest were long gone by time the land became black and gray, riddled with cracks, chasms and canyons. Smoke still rose from a few of the fissures, where the horrid flames still burned. Towers of black steel stood over the wasteland, the spires at their peaks warped around the spheres of volatile orange energy that warbled and undulated. The towers would not fire their entropic payload at the dragon, however. It was one of their own, after all. Desrium made a note to report this development to the Order. It would do them well to liberate the towers and have them defend the area as they should, instead of being tools of the demonic scourge to maintain their decaying grasp on the land of Tyrbenetus.
But before he could do that, he had to break the powers that be. That meant striking them where they least expected, but where they were also most strong. He was flying the dragon right towards a demon stronghold, a terrible fortress fashioned out of ebony steel sitting on foreboding land. It had sharp angles every which way and windows that glowed like fire. Effigies to death and destruction decorated their territory, skeletons of various peoples hiked up on jagged poles for all to see. The beings of flesh scorned such things. The demons reveled in it.
To say it was dangerous was an insulting understatement. Many squads of the Order’s soldiers had embarked on such ventures before and that many squads of soldiers were no longer living. Gone in life, but not in spirit, whether or not they were at peace or victims of eternal torture had yet to be determined by any mage or mystic. But Desrium, on the eve of his decisive strike, drew strength from their bravery and noble hearts, for they did not yield in the face of the blight. They hardened their resolve and fought even when the fight was long lost.
He would honor them, for he was no ordinary soldier of the Dawnmother’s Order. More so than his title as Justicar, the circumstances behind his being provided an edge that many others lacked. It was an added bonus that he did not age, tire and did not feel pain. If there was ever a warrior suited to battling the endless horde for all time, it was Desrium; he was a monster at one point but he would stay a hero for the rest of time.
He pushed the Lance back, angling the dragon’s tailfins downward. The rest of its body bent with it, the creature’s midsection arching upward; to Desrium the beast formed a hill of marble. Over its spiked crest he saw the fortress rise, backed with the craggy landscape. He straightened the dragon’s tail and hunkered down as it picked up speed, diving. It began to growl and tense with hesitation and Desrium noted that there were signs of the dragon that used to be, a creature that sought to preserve its life. When demons died, they returned to their hellish realm and awaited their opportunity to return to the battlefield anew. Mortality was not a thing to fear, it was an inconvenience for them.
“Do not fret,” Desrium spoke to the wayward spirit, “I will free you from the malice that has claimed you.”
He made the dragon skim across the rocky floor, flying just a few feet off of the ground. Demons patrolling the grounds swiftly took notice of the odd behavior the corrupted drake exhibited. They watched with burning eyes as it flew arrowhead straight at the black fortress. Its outstretched wings smashed into the poles that displayed the skeletons, leveling a swath of them in seconds. Clamor and uproar came from the demonic denizens at this and there was many a weapon raised in protest. It did not seem like anyone in the horde saw the Justicar on the dragon as they were consumed by the swell of chaos amongst their ranks. The irony did not go unnoticed by the armored being.
With a swift swipe of the spear’s blades, the dragon’s tailfins were cut off. They tumbled to the rough ground and continued to roll across it, the membranes ripping apart on sharp rocks. The dragon itself almost immediately rolled over, flapping desperately to correct itself. Desrium leaped off and planted his sabatons into the ground, sparks leaping off of his armor as he skated after the behemoth.
It collided with the stronghold’s door with its broadside, the sound booming across the rocky open. Its wing snapped almost on contact and the rest of its body contorted as it bashed the door in, spilling into the lobby of the damned. Where broken bones gashed flesh, blood and innards spilled onto the stone floor, running along grooves and cracks.
Demon underlings stared at the broken corpse. They were not visibly shocked, or perhaps they were not shocked at all and were only mildly curious as to why one of their fellow demons crashed into the fortress and made such a mess. Perhaps they were contemplating making the morbid aftermath an exhibit for all the fort’s forces to appreciate. But then the light spilled into the dark hall from over the body of the dragon. The underlings hissed and recoiled, repulsed by the glow of life. They shielded their eyes, gazing upon the figure responsible through the spaces in between their fingers. Their lips peeled back over their sharp, yellowed teeth when they saw Desrium standing on the dragon’s side, the Lance of the Justicar in hand.
They spoke their forbidden language, cursing him in their own tongue. It did not matter. He understood them all the same. He leaped off of the dragon, the wings of light folding behind him as he did. He came down with a tremendous thud, the stone floor breaking around his boots. He cut down an underling with a single swing, spun on his feet and sliced a few grouped together in two in one clean slash. The underlings were just that, meek impish workers meant to tend to the tasks the combat-proven elites thought beneath them. Their bodies were small and frail and most were adorned in rags for reasons Desrium did not bother to ponder.
It was not long until the hall was littered with their bodies. The shadows retreated as their blood flowed, igniting on contact with the air. Desrium walked on bathed in orange and yellow light, crossing the hall and kicking open the large, double metal doors on the other side. He stepped through them and was greeted with the sight of a massive cylindrical chamber. A spiraling ridge of gray stone protruding from the walls appeared to be the stairway down to the base of the chamber. Runes of demonic incantations glowed a variety of colors and ran along the walls in accordance to the stairway, illuminating the room with all kinds of shades and hues. Desrium thought it was unfitting for a place of demonic presence to have such frivolous use of color. He thought no more of it afterwards and jumped down the center of the spiral, fearless of what may lurk beneath. As long as he had the Lance, he walked with those who came before, the collective knowledge and experience of a proud line of Justicars.
The sound of Desrium’s landing echoed. There was more broken stone where he came down in a crouch, powdery flecks and dust raining down around him. He stood upright, looked around and located the next set of doors. He walked up to them and kicked his boot dead center. With a bang and metallic groan, the heavy doors swung inwards and crashed against the walls they hit. Another dull banging rippled throughout the fortress.
The room beyond the doors was another cylinder. By the way the rooms were arranged, stacked on top of each other floor by floor, filled to the brim with muscle bound red giants wearing plated armors and holding large weaponry, Desrium knew he had found the fortress’ barracks. Or was it a prison? Did demons even have prisons? It would be just like them to arm their convicts with weapons and supply armor. They would be like gladiators. It certainly explained the open center of the room, ringed with lanterns.
The greater demons started to leap down, swords, axes and polearms hoisted and ready for battle. Desrium could fight them, but it was inevitable that no matter how many he struck down, he would be overwhelmed. No, he had to do something that he really did not want to do, but had no choice but to. It was his little sacrifice for the greater good. He wore his robe to follow in Jiier’s example, and so he would follow through.
Reaching into it, Desrium pulled out a silver and blue talisman with a golden chain that hung around his neck with the iconography of the Dawnmother on it: a debossed impression of Moria facing forward, the mare’s horn pointed frontwards, the bands of light that made up her wings represented as lines that stretched out to the end of the vitorite amulet on either side of her. Vitorite was an ore with a special affinity for the world’s magical essence. The talisman was made of Septimus’ store of the mineral and forged by the magic of the Scholar’s mentor on Tyrbenetus. Because of this, it possessed a great deal of power within its small form, a power that was supposed to appease Desrium’s appetite for mana. It was Septimus’ parting gift to him and Desrium had promised to keep it safe, to cherish it always. He didn’t even feed off of its mana reserves, how dear it was to him.
He was going to go back on that promise. Though he would always cherish it in memory, what he was about to do would be the complete opposite of keeping it safe. ”I am sorry, Septimus, but I see no greater use for your gift than this.”
The first line of the numerous demonic soldiers were almost upon him when he ripped the talisman from his neck, the chain shattering and fraying into pieces. He opened his metal maw, his four fangs glinting in the fire light. He tossed the talisman into his mouth and slammed it shut; the greater demons began lunging at him. He fell onto his knees; most of the frontline missed their marks. He threw himself to the side and rolled, dodging many swings and stabs. He stopped upright, but he was getting sluggish as his strength waned. It was becoming difficult to do simple movements; standing up in time so that he could jump away from a war axe bearing down on him took a monumental effort. Keeping on his feet when he landed was nigh impossible so he crumpled to the ground, using the gold and silver spear as a brace to keep from falling flat on his face.
The demons did not let up on the Justicar. His moment of weakness only seemed to fuel their lust for violence, their black weapons and red-streaked blades hungry for the thrill of the fight. They came at him and he evaded with the use of his ethereal wings, gliding backwards away from their strikes. His body gradually became slacker with each passing moment, his arms swinging limply every time he avoided a blow, his legs dangling when he got off the ground. This only spurred on the ravenous warriors, but they were overlooking the transition in the robed being’s eyes. For they were no longer releasing wisps of scarlet, but violet, getting closer and closer to blue. It was only when there was a blinding flash of light did the demons stop their attack and it was only to block their eyes from the source.
Desrium’s eyes were ablaze, cobalt light flaring outwards from the darkness in his hood. He levitated off of the ground, not by the power of his wings, but by a field of raw magical power that came from within. Now that he was mana infused, bolts of electricity lashed out at his surroundings. Nearby demons attracted the wrath of the lightning which took on a myriad of forms, branching strikes or narrow, pinpoint streaks. They were all kinds of color, silvery blue to bright red, but they all had roughly the same effect on all they hit: smoldering piles of char vaguely recognizable as what they once were.
And that was merely the beginning. With a quick wave of his free hand, Desrium sent a crescent wave of magical energy into the once-crazed crowd of soldiers. They all fell over in a cascade, sliced horizontally along the middle. He clenched his fist, gathering energy in the palm of his hand before pointing it into the room. Another overpowering light filled the chamber and in the next instant, the scorched walls were coming down on themselves, groaning and raining sparks, their foundations completely melted by the Justicar’s power. Demons were scrambling along collapsing walkways, crushed by falling debris.
Desrium held his hand in front of his eyes, knowing – feeling – that he had more than enough power to spare. He felt like he could single handedly level this fortress, battle whole squadrons of corrupted dragons and reclaim the defense towers. “You have outdone yourself, Septimus,” he thought as he felt the mana coursing through him. He held the Lance with both hands, channeling his energy into the spear and pointing its prongs downwards. From in between the spear’s prongs, a spiraling beam of gold erupted, eating through the stone and anything else that might have been in its way. When the energy subsided, what was left was a glowing tunnel into the depths of the stronghold. Desrium descended it, floating downwards, the wings of light illuminating the darkness.
In time he arrived at what he assumed to be the base that the stronghold was built upon. It was an expansive cavern, the stalactites and stalagmites still present. There was already a light there before he brought the glory of the Dawnmother into this place far removed from the sun. He descended from the cavern ceiling, eyeing the columns of steel and rock that were undoubtedly keeping the whole structure from plunging into the rocky depths.
His vision drifted over to the peculiar assembly at the center of the cavern however. Spires similar to those seen on the defense towers were arranged around a central point, what looked like a pedestal from Desrium’s perspective. Like many other things in the stronghold, it too was made out of black metal, its base ornate and covered in engravings of fire and unspeakable creatures. Something set upon it shed a light yellow light in all directions. There was a hulking demon standing by the pedestal. It stood taller than Desrium and boasted a musculature that could have made the strongest ox envious. The armored being assumed it was a demon lord, with the way it seemed to ignore the pillar of light that might have been sent from the heavens for all it knew.
“Demon,” Desrium stated, his voice having several layers to it now. It was rough and loud like a lion’s roar, it was soft and gentle as a birdsong. The gradient in between was unbelievable, many voices blending into one. And right in the middle was Desrium’s perpetual monotone.
The demon lord turned to look at its visitor, uninterestedly at first, but then the implications of his appearance made themselves known. The demon, some twisted blend between a bear, hippo, bull and a man, smiled. Or rather, it did the closest thing to a smile that it could manage with its snout.
“You were the one responsible for that, weren’t you?” inquired the demon with a voice that was surprisingly smooth, and almost pleasant to hear.
“Your time is at an end,” Desrium replied, ignoring the question.
The demon nodded. “I see.” It turned away from Desrium as if it was going back to deal with the pedestal before abruptly facing the Justicar again, dropping into a sprinting pose. Desrium sent a crescent blade of energy its way, but the demon bolted across the cavern floor and jumped at him, a plume of dust and rock following it as it hurtled at the armored being at considerable speed.
Desrium folded his wings and dropped altitude quickly, twisting around to track the lord’s path through the air. It thudded against the far wall of the cavern in a runner’s stance and bolted again, running sideways along the surface as Desrium chased it down with a thin stream of energy from his palm. Clouds of dust formed with every one of its footfalls and it made another large cloud when it kicked off of the wall, launching itself at the Justicar, one arm cocked backwards and ready to deliver one hell of a punch.
Desrium shot straight up into the air with a wing beat and flipped over as the demon lord passed underneath him, throwing an orb of magical energy into its back, which exploded with a bright flash and a popping noise. The demon landed at the center of the cavern on all fours and snapped itself around to glare at the Justicar, snorting vapor from its nostrils. Desrium righted himself, his jaws hanging open slightly. Bright light and gaseous streams of color started to spiral into his mouth.
The demon raised its arms and slammed its fists down like hammers into the cavern floor. The impact rippled outwards and individual slabs of stone rose and fell with the shockwave. With a yell, the demon punched the ground and sent javelins of rock at the Justicar. Desrium shot from side to side deftly, using his wings to maneuver and dodge a few of the projectiles before releasing the power stored in his mouth. A beam of prismatic energy destroyed the remaining rocks in flight and continued onwards to the demon lord.
The lord did a handstand before pushing off of the ground, throwing it up and over the beam seconds before it hit where the demon lord was just standing. The devilish being landed on the ceiling but did not fall. Instead it charged across it and jumped down when Desrium aimed his beam upwards, avoiding the volatile energies completely. It looked around at the glowing rocks, molten and dripping wherever the beam ran across.
“Interesting, you’re a lot more powerful than the fodder your rebel camp normally sends us!”
“Don’t you dare refer to them as such, demon. I act in the name of justice, do not temp me with revenge,” Desrium responded.
“They wouldn’t be worth the effort, honestly,” the demon replied matter of factly.
“You do not have the right to speak about those soldiers.”
“I have every right, actually,” the lord said, “This is my fortress, after all. Not to mention they tried to kill me.” It laughed to itself, shaking its head. “Tried…”
“I could wipe you scum off the face of this world.”
“Nothing is stopping you. Unless…” The demon lord smirked. An explosion of dust was left where it was standing, the demon back flipping numerous times before landing back at its altar.
It slammed its hands down on the pedestal and the object placed upon it jerked into the air and began to spin. The light yellow glow turned fiery, hellish red and orange. Desrium recognized the artifact on the unholy altar. It was a skull bearing an unmistakable U-shaped crest on the front. Though it was elongated at the back, the front of the skull bore a disturbingly uncanny resemblance to a human skull.
“You would be surprised what can be salvaged from such an explosion!” the demon lord exclaimed maniacally, “And you would be surprised what a few warlocks can accomplish! Pay us a visit, dear old, Xrtylxx!”
The demon lord leapt away from the altar as the ground fell away into an abyss. The cavern rocked and stones fell from the ceiling. The abyss suddenly lit up, a geyser of fire shooting forth from the nether. A field of magic manifested, electricity running along the border and spiraling back into the center of the summoning in a strange circuit. A single limb reached up from beyond, fleshy and spindly, covered in spikes and singed hair like some kind of hell-spawned spider. An otherworldly noise drifted on up, deep and unsettling.
“I cannot allow such an abominable act to come to fruition,” Desrium proclaimed from above. Drawing on all of his power, he channeled mana into the Lance and pointed its prongs at the portal. The spear glowed brightly and the wings of its user intensified in brightness as well. It was if a miniature star had descended underneath the dirt and rock. The limb from beyond reached out, nearing the barrier of magical energy, the only thing separating it from the physical realm where the archdemon could return.
“Begone, Xrtylxx. The time of your revival is not now.”
The golden ray shot out and crashed into the field of magic, spreading out around it and nullifying it with tendrils of sunrays, strangling the evil forces. There was a horrible scream from the hellish portal and the lord began angrily spouting words from the demon tongue at the Justicar. Either words of death, or just gibberish. The electricity expanded outwards in all directions before collapsing back on its center while Xrtylxx was dragged back into the abysmal pit, sans its hellfire.
“The jokes end here, Justicar!” the demon lord boomed with unbridled fury as Desrium glided back to the ground, voice deepening many octaves and eyes alight. “It took a lot of time and effort to get that skull, and you ruined everything!”
Desrium spun the Lance of the Justicar in his grip when he landed and then he spun on his heels, ending the motion with the blades pointed at the demon in a combat stance. His eyes, now red again, pulsed and wisps of light drifted through the air. The demon lord roared in response, but stopped midway when it saw what had become of the portal.
“What in Necros’ molten hell!?”
The bolts of electricity formed a twister as the abyss suddenly became a chromatic field of light. Bands of color swirled around each other before the portal changed into something completely different. It was still some kind of passage way between realms, but instead of bringing something from another, it was reversed. It was trying to pull things through!
“Look what you’ve done, idiot!” the demon roared, “you’ve killed us all, you metal bastard!” It slammed its fingers into the ground, anchoring itself.
“I did no such thing, demon,” Desrium shot back dispassionately as he crouched down and stabbed the spear into the ground for leverage as well.
But alas, the very stone they stood on began to rise, for the demon had shattered it earlier on in the confrontation. They were pulled to the colorful rift at speed, tumbling down a prismatic tunnel until they lost sight of each other. It was only when he realized he was already beyond the point of no return did Desrium notice he had actually let go of the spear. He tried to reorient himself with his wings and catch it, but had no such luck. By the whims of fortune he was relatively right side up when he looked down and saw the point of convergence, a point of pure white light below him. He grabbed the spear with one hand moments before he fell into it and everything became nothingness…
… and from nothingness came everything. He was falling through trees, a hail of dark stone surrounding him. His metal body was colliding with branch after branch, snapping them like twigs as he fell. He was also familiar with this. His return to the ground was swift and ungraceful, with him landing on his back. But despite the unexpected change of events, he had not let go of his weapon. The chunks of stone thudded into the dirt around him, a few small bits glancing off of his metal body. When the dust settled, Desrium raised his legs and flipped back onto his feet, nonplussed by the event. He was surrounded by boulders impaled into the ground. The demon lord on the other hand made its appearance across the way, swinging from tree to tree before sliding down the bark of one in one smooth motion.
It came down on all fours in a gorilla-like fashion and jerked its head over to look in the Justicar’s direction. It was still for a moment and the two stared at each other until the demon took a good look around them. A dark forest when they were just underground, meaning they were in another, alien realm. The demon lord smirked wickedly with dark thoughts running through its head.
“FIRST!” it shouted, launching itself into the air and punching a tree with such force that the base became a shower of splinters. The large plant fell towards Desrium, knocking every other tree limb that conspired to catch it down. Desrium swung his free arm upwards, his gauntlet impacting with the tree trunk and embedding itself inside.
He succeeded in stopping its fall to some extent.
“First to claim this world!” he heard the demon lord hoot in the distance and he threw the tree aside, ripping his hand free of the wood. He jumped up on the felled timber and looked around frantically, his eyes brightening to combat the dark shadows.
But the demon was gone, disappeared into the wilderness.
“Enjoy your delusions while they last. I will find you, yet.”
His wings unfurled, shining their golden light as he charged into the underbrush. He listened intently for signs of the demon in the trees and looked around for signs of its passing, but had neither to work with. He didn’t give up, though. He was unaging, untiring, unfeeling. He would find the repulsive creature and send it back to whence it came. Then he would try to find a way to get back to Tyrbenetus. This was his mission. He drew solace from the fact that, while the demon stronghold still stood, its major fighting force was utterly obliterated. He hoped that word would travel back to the Order somehow and they would finish what he started. Moria knew that all he truly wanted was to be there with them when they claimed their victory over the scourge. At least Xrtylxx was still bound in his extra-planar prison with no escape to be had in the near future.
A long time passed since the demon lord escaped into the forest. A long time of searching proved fruitless. Desrium slowed to an uneasy stop with the roots of giant trees boring into the soil around him. He looked up into the leafy canopy, both appreciating the beauty of life after being in such a dead land for so long and cursing it at the same time. The trees were big and healthy. The demon had proven that it was more than able to use them to its advantage. While he was sprinting across the forest floor, it was slipping through the treetops, making the most out of its head start. It could have been anywhere by now. He couldn’t give up. Desrium could not allow another land to fall prey to the corrupting influence of demons. Just one demon lord could spell disaster for centuries and millennia to come.
But how was he to catch the fiend? He would have to meditate on it when he got the chance, for he decided that getting his bearings on his surroundings would be the best course of action for the time being. The Justicar was about to jump onto a tree and work his way to the canopy when he noticed movement amidst the vegetation: a shadow that moved out of turn with everything else. He was put on alert again. Was it big enough to be the demon lord? Could the devil move with such stealth that it could mislead his most acute senses? And why would it dare approach what might have been its only threat in this new world? Focusing his attention, his eyes became much brighter, eventually overtaking the wings and chasing the shadows away with crimson light. He panned his vision around, combing the bushes and ferns for evidence of his enemy.
What he discovered not long after was something… odd. It was a small hooded figure that was practically a statue before him, partially obscured by the leaves of a bush. He saw blue eyes and the faint glint of jewelry underneath the brown cloak. Most curious indeed, Desrium thought. It was definitely not the demon lord, but the question remained, just what was this creature he had come across? Desrium cocked his head when he heard it speak. It spoke in a tongue that was understandably alien to him, but he was relieved when he did not recognize it as black speech. His interest was piqued by the creature and its rapid speaking. The armored being inferred that it was chanting something, but what, exactly, he could not discern.
Reflexively, his hand shot out to block the wooden staff that the creature swung at his head. It seemed surprised by the quickness of the reaction by how it reeled backwards, eyes wide. The armored being’s fingers wrapped around the staff and with a forceful tug, he pulled it and the creature forwards into the light of his eyes unobstructed. He took the staff away from it and with a fast motion, used it to push the creature’s hood off of its head. The creature mumbled something irritably while Desrium noted its key features. Black and white stripes, a mane and tail, four legs, a strangely feminine appearance accentuated by the presence of gold jewelry on the neck and foreleg, a resemblance to an equine animal. A closer look at the staff revealed that it was in fact, bamboo.
“Return to the dark corner you appeared from you ghastly apparition, return to the void of sin, witchery and superstition!” the creature spat with a heavily accented voice.
“I beg your pardon?” Desrium replied, mildly surprised that the animal could speak a language he understood.
“I have no care for kinds like you, so I ask that you do whatever it is that you are here to do. If you do not wish to harm me, then I only ask that you leave me be,” she said.
Desrium paused. Aside from the habit of rhyming, the creature was even stranger than he had anticipated. “You attacked me,” he said.
“I was warding off what I thought was an evil spirit. If that is what you are, then do not waste another minute. Do your evil deed or ensure that I am set free.”
“I am not an evil spirit, I assure you,” the armored being responded. “I am Desrium, the Justicar. I come from another place and time, on a mission to save your land from a grave danger.”
“Is that why you cause havoc and run amok? Is your mission to cause confusion and devastation?” the small creature asked accusingly. She had heard and felt the impact when the tree was knocked down. She saw animals scurrying in fear as the robed intruder in the forest went on his rampage. She would not be led astray by lies of grand quests.
“No, but that is the intention of my foe. It seeks to bring ruin here as its kind has brought ruin elsewhere.”
“You claim to act in favor of the dove, but what is this foe which you speak of?” the equine creature asked.
“An actual evil spirit,” Desrium answered simply. “They are known as demons where I hail from.”
The equine hummed thoughtfully, ruminating over what she was told. “And why have I not seen signs of this foe? Is there more to your story that I ought to know?”
“I fear that it may have escaped me already,” Desrium replied. “I need to assess the problem differently if I am to have any hope of putting a stop to its visions of destruction.”
The creature stood up warily, looking upon the robed figure with an expression of distrust. Desrium stepped backwards a few paces as a show of his good will. He saw her narrow her eyes, her pupils shifting over to the staff he had taken from her. He went down on one knee and held it out for her to take. She inched forwards, her body tense and ready to react to anything the armored being might pull. Desrium found that interesting, that even though the creature knew what he was capable of, she was still prepared to combat him if he proved a threat to her. He commended such brave spirit.
She snatched the bamboo away as soon as she was able to and hopped backwards, expertly wielding the staff in her front hooves and standing on her rear ones. She held one end of the staff between her and the Justicar. He did not stir.
“I apologize for any offense I may have committed,” Desrium said to her as he stood up. “I will be leaving you now.” He turned away from her and started to walk off into the brush.
“Halt, Justicar!”
Desrium stopped and looked over his shoulder at the equine. She was standing on three legs now, one of them holding the staff vertical by her side.
“Do I have your word that you have been truthful about who you are?” she asked him.
Desrium nodded. “By the Dawnmother’s honor.”
“Then I may be able to assist you in defeating this fiend. The help of friends is what you need.”
“Friends?” Desrium inquired, perplexed.
“There is much that we both have to say. Your questions, I will answer along the way,” said the creature as she started to head back the way Desrium found her. “I will gather my supplies and we will depart for Ponyville before the sun lights up the skies.”
Desrium wanted to ask her about what Ponyville was, but decided against it. He would be wasting too much time asking about every detail that he came across. Instead, he opted to get a more worthwhile answer.
“Who are you, if you do not mind me asking?” he asked as he came up behind her, falling into step with her pace.
“Yes,” she said, nodding, “to you, my identity must be quite the enigma.”
“It is.”
“There used to be a time when I was as misunderstood as you,” she continued to say. “But there needn’t be any mystery.”
She stopped and turned around to look Desrium in his glowing eyes. With a kind smile and a wave of her staff, she said: “For I am the zebra, Zecora, who lives in the forest of Everfree.”
Desrium nodded with understanding and replied, “Then I am fortunate to be in your company, Zecora. It is quite rare to find oneself with a kindred spirit.”
Zecora only bowed her head and continued onwards. The two did not exchange words for the rest of the walk through the dark forest – which was not so dark thanks to Desrium’s ever-shining light – and it was not long until they came to the zebra’s hut built into the base of an aged tree. Bottles of poultices and potions hung from its branches along with various charms. Desrium saw the curious-looking mask that hung over her door, adorned with ferns.
For some reason, the zebra’s abode reminded him of Jiier’s cave when he too was a hermit in some forbidding jungle, far from civilization. It was a pleasant yet somber reminder of his friend and the world he was taken from.