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Soul Stone - Part Thirteen

Author: 
Freddie Freeman
Old Vault Category: 
fanfiction
Old Vault ID: 
278

Suddenly, Ruien's mind clicked.

"Ice. Of course," he thought to himself.

A frosty blue energy began surrounding his flexing fingers. He waved them through the air, painting invisible letters of a strange language in front of him.

"Back, beast!" Kalamaar shouted as he charged the Balrog. The dwarf slashed a wound in the demon's leathery leg, causing it to bellow a great wail. It countered by slamming its flamberg... into Kalamaar's magical armor. Fortunately, it glanced to the left.

"Hold him a moment longer, Kalamaar," Erana asked as she dipped the tips of five crossbows in a blue solution. Water condensed and froze about the liquid's flask. As the last bolt-tip was pulled from the mixture, she loaded the salvo into her crossbow, aiming for the beast.

"Keep him still!" Erana yelled.

"Easier said than done, hag!" the dwarf retorted, dodging a fearsome blow.

Edele outstretched her arms, pointing her fingers toward Kalamaar. With a quick word and a flick of her wrists, a purple orb shot from her hands and penetrated the dwarf's being.

"That should aid you somewhat," Edele said.

"What did you do to me?" Kalamaar demanded, "Hey... I feel pretty good!"

Indeed, Kalamaar had newfound speed. He hacked away at the Balrog with extreme haste, landing blows so fast that his gleaming axe, Bravecleaver, became a blur.

The Balrog knocked Kalamaar to the side with its huge, clawed hand, growling at Edele. Its stomach and legs were badly wounded, blood pouring generously from the slashes. In the corner of its eye it caught sight of Ruien. The elf's eyes were closed, and he was halfway-hidden behind a boulder. With a snarl, the Balrog started toward the mage.

Ruien was lost deep within his mind. Visions of barren, snow-covered wastelands abounded in his thought as he recited verse after verse.

The Balrog, shaking off the pain, shambled toward Ruien. In a moment it was in front of him, its weapon raised high. Before it could react, however, Ruien's eyes opened. He finished the verse with a smirk: "Shrkayn."

The Balrog gave a puzzled growl as it was pierced in the heart with a huge spear forged of ice. With a cackle, it fell on its side.

Ruien collapsed, exhausted.

"Thanks to me, we're saved," Kalamaar scoffed, slinging his axe across his back. He approached Ruien and helped him to his feet.

"Them was some pretty fierce magicks, elf," the dwarf conceded.

Ruien didn't reply.

"Brother," Edele began, "an excellent choice. Ice countered his inner flame."

"Tell me something I don't know," Ruien grinned.

"What now?" Erana asked, tightening the lid of one of her flasks.

"We should proceed into that door," Edele suggested.

"No," Ruien said.

"What? After all that work we're not even going IN?" Kalamaar exclaimed.

"No. It is a trap. There are surely beasts, more fearsome still, that lie within the darkness," Ruien said.

"I see," Erana sighed.

"Well then, Mr. Know-Nothin'... what then?" the dwarf demanded.

"We have to get out the same way we came in. The Djinn," Ruien proclaimed.

"The Djinn? And how shall we summon him?" Edele wondered.

"As we did last time. The canticle," Ruien explained.

"The canticle? You mean the runes on the palace? In case you hand't noticed, we're in some abyss, elf!" Kalamaar patronized.

"We just have to remember the runes," Erana realized.

"Precisely," Ruien commended.

"Don't look at me," Kalamaar said, turning around and rummaging in his pack, "I'll be drinkin' while you figure out whatever it is you need to figure out."

"Were not the runes... wood elven?" Edele remembered.

"I believe they were high elven," Erana argued.

"...dark elven, if I remember correctly," Ruien thought.

"I says they're dwarven," Kalamaar said, gurgling his whiskey.

"Why not just try all four?" Edele asked.

"Once we say the canticle, we'll either have said the right one or the wrong one. The right one will summon the Djinn, while an incorrect one will summon something else," Ruien explained.

"Something bad?" Kalamaar asked.

"Perhaps," Ruien replied.

Ruien sat down upon the dirt, grasping his oak staff.

"Shall we guess?" he asked.

"What if we guess wrong?" Edele pointed out.

"With our luck, it'll most likely spell death. Hah," Kalamaar chuckled, breaking a liquor bottle over his helmet.

Migrate Wizard: 
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