Guardians: The Last Elder

Chapter 26: The Battle of Morlea (part 2)

"Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt."
~ Sun Tzu (The Art of War)

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It began as a whisper. But Razar, the infamous leader of the Hooded Ones, bent over the small frame of the dying girl, was much too absorbed in injecting the black rays and whispering an eerie chant, such that he barely noticed the whisper grow to a wind, still soft and gentle, like a lover's hand.

He could feel the immense amount of untouched power riling beneath the girl's skin, waiting. He could taste his own victory, at least one step closer to it. And he wanted it desperately.

But then, the soft wind seemed to grow in power, the burn of electricity and something else...something revoltingly of nature, laced in it. Then, like the strike of lightening, flashes of figures were suddenly darting all around them. The Hooded Ones, unsure of what to expect, bristled with fear and anticipation. But Razar was ancient. He knew.

He easily dodged an arrow that flew towards him out of nowhere. It embedded itself in a tree trunk. Razar stood unhurriedly and plucked it out delicately, studying it. There was a blue feather at its tail. The insignia of the Elfin King.

Then all hell broke loose.

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Elves appeared out of the shadows of the trees, some jumped down from the tree branches where they were previously perched stealthily. Arrows rained down on them. Razar watched it all with disinterest, creating a small invisible bubble around him to prevent an arrow from sneaking in. The Hooded Ones, after recovering from their initial shock, fought back, shooting waves of black rays. But the Elves were light and quick on their feet. Razar huffed in disappointment as the Elves effortlessly cut down his brethrens.

One of the Hooded Ones fell right near his feet. It rasped in a throaty voice, pleading, "Master, help..."

Razar rolled his eyes, annoyed at the pleading. But, nevertheless, he had had enough. He looked back at the girl but found that an army of Elves were protectively surrounding her, their swords and shields out and blazing. Well, Razar can deal with them later.

He summoned his beloved sword, forged completely out of black steel, light and sharp and started hacking through the bodies of Elves. He slashed, decapitated, stabbed, all the while dodging arrow after arrow. Within a matter of minutes, he had cleared a path in front of him, his feet squelching in the forest floor, now wet with blood. But at the end stood a tall, beautiful creature, dressed in war robes, his blonde hair tied in a sharp braid, a circlet resting on his head. Vile.

"Been a long time, Elfin King," Razar said, his voice mocking. "Have you missed my flamboyant presence?"

"Cannot say I have. But, I must admit, you do look worse for the wear," the King replied smoothly. Razar chuckled.

But the laugh died down and a tense silence ensued. And, finally, as if he could no longer control his rage, Razar lunged at the King who quickly danced away, laughing. Then, as if only to entertain himself, the King summoned a small hurricane of dirt and leaves around Razar, blinding and choking him. And before he knew it, he felt a prick on his gut. He looked down and saw the edge of a sword peeking out of his belly. He sighed and said, "Have you forgotten your tactics, old man? In the heart you stab. Not the belly. Never the belly."

With that, Razar turned around and attacked the King, who kept on blocking and defending, seeming slightly amused. Razar could not understand the reason behind the King's amusement and that infuriated him more. But he would. In a matter of seconds, he would.