Caves of Chaos.
"RUN!"
Behind her, Paris could hear the rumble of the orc hordes pursuing the party. She crested the arch of the slim stone bridge across the glowing lava, and saw that this bridge ended on a flat terrace at the base of the Tower. A pile of gold, pieces to the key of the door, littered the ground at the foot of the door. "Anton!" she shouted again, a coolness settling over her as she decided. "Put your airwall up here at the crest of the arch."
"It won't hold them long," he said, but stopped to cast the spell anyway. She was already busy, using the point of her sword to scratch a line in the tough stone of the rail-less walkway. It didn't have to hold long, just a turn for her to complete the prayer.
She had time to stand and face the top of the arch in the bridge before the orcs broke through the air wall. 'There are only two good ways to die,' she recalled the old paladin saying, as she whispered the words to the air. 'When you have six sons to carry your bier, or holding back all the tide of darkness.' The line in the stone began to glow, feeding her with strength. It would aid her recovery, so long as she didn't retreat. If she retreated, she would lose that ability forever, it was win or die.
The first orc charged, and her glowing blue sword sliced quickly through the air and the orc, sending pieces over the edge. She settled into a pattern, letting the orcs attack, striking only occasionally to stretch the fight out as long as possible.
"No, that one doesn't go there," Mia was saying, as she and the others struggled with the puzzle on the door, trying to arrange the cards correctly. "Um, how is that one spelled..."
Paris couldn't really hear the details of their argument over the fighting. Dozens of orcs had died, some orc sergeants, uruk hai, and the like. A goblin cast spells that died against her protective field, until the press of orcs behind him pressed the goblin into range of her sword. A taller head peered over the orcs, slowly advancing toward her. She gripped her sword tighter, as the demon captain stepped up and swung.
It was a much tougher fight, and she couldn't hold back against it. Fortunately, a timely spear thrust over her shoulder, driven by Rhori's exceptional strength, stunned it. She managed to gasp in some recoveries as the lead orcs tried to backpedal against the pressure behind them, until they too were forced up against her sword and she settled into the pattern again, now aided by Rhori.
"I don't have it I tell you!" Calais yelled. "I don't know where the missing card is. I didn't take it." Frantically they started turning over rocks, looking for the last, missing gold card.
In front of Paris, the orcs picked up a new chant. "Maab," they intoned, in a reverential tone. The head of the demon became visible over the arch of the bridge, and she could see it causally swing its flail. Six orcs were swept off of the bridge, screaming as their armor burned and their flesh blackened and decayed. The ones between the demon and Paris looked back and forth in panic; several of them jumped to their deaths rather than face either of the two.
The demon, chuckling, advanced. Simultaneously, she heard Rhori shout "No" and a lion's roar, as Hobbes leaped across the two of them to land on the chest of the demon. "Ho ho," it chuckled, as the rolls of fat moved, two tentacles came from behind the demon to grab the cat. There was a snap of a green twig as Hobbes' spine broke from being bent backwards in two, the lion disappearing in the dark space between the folds of fat.
Rhori's sound was incoherent rage; and the spear flew past her into the demon, even as the flail came down on the two of them, the demon using an exaggerated, gentle move to bring it straight down on both warriors. She covered herself with the metal-faced shield that shrieked where the lashes of the flail struck it. The metal boiled, the wood disintegrated, and the blow continued to the heavy armor of her left arm, and through that to the soft flesh inside. There was a brief flare of pain that almost immediately stopped as the nerves in the arms were overwhelmed.
She didn't dare look behind her, but she could tell the ranger had been hurt worse, lacking the shield and her heavy armor. The demon was smiling at them, playing with them. She dared not breathe, because the smell of scorched flesh from behind her, and the spoiled fetid air from the demon filled the air, but with desperation prayed out loud. "God guide my blade," she said, and with all her strength plunged the bright blue sword into the demon.
It went into the demon, piercing the skin, liquid white fat pouring out of the creature. Then the skin clamped down on the sword and, with a strength many times hers, pulled it from her hand. "No," she cried weakly, as the light went out from the circle around her, and the sound of the choir died.
"Ho ho ho," Maab chortled, as the flail came whistling down from overhead again. Her left arm refused her command to raise the nonexistent shield, as her stomach knew she was about to die.
"Paris." The woman's voice came from off to her right. She could see everything had stopped between two moments in time, and when she turned her head she could feel a slight tearing. "It's time to come with me, dear," the Empress said, extending her hand. To the right, off the stone path, was a green corridor, fading at the edges of the portal, and she could see a world of green plants and blue sky behind her, in stark contrast to the red and stone of the cavern. She turned to take the Empress' hand, noticing that she, composed only of light, was leaving behind her body.
"Rhori." On the other side of the bridge, the Emperor was calling to Rhori, leading him away as well. Paris noticed as she moved into the Empress' land that two others were standing there. One, on the left, Justice, with sword raised and scales in his hand. The other, on the right, a man even more handsome than Justice, dressed only in red, with his hands clasped behind his back. Behind her, time moved again, and she heard a woman's scream suddenly cut off, as her own body died under the flail.
Paris dropped to one knee, holding the Empress' hand. "My lady," she said.
The Empress nodded, then frowned. "Where is your sword, my warrior?" she said in tones that reminded her of Branwen.
'I've failed again,' Paris thought with a sob. "It... took it, my lady. I will return to get it."
The Empress shook her head. "My warriors need their sword. Justice, would you please get it for her?"
Justice looked across to the other man. "My hands are full, your highness. Perhaps my brother Judgment would be willing to get it."
Across the bridge, the same discussion was being held about the lion.
Judgment, in both places at once, looked at the Emperor and Empress. "Is it your will?" he asked quietly. "Do you really think they are ready?"
"Yes," they both replied as one.
Judgment sighed. "Very well. I hope you are right." He reached one gloved hand back behind the kneeling Paris and Rhori.
When the demon had appeared, the rest of the party had dropped their search. Neither Paris nor Rhori saw the arrows and most potent spells thrown against the monster, to no effect. "Ho," it said, stepping forward, one clawed foot scattering the ashes of what were once the two Guardians. There was a sick feeling the pit of Calais' stomach. Sis was dead and gone, he knew. And, there was no where to run as the demon stepped forward.
What happened next burned itself on his eyes. An arm of fire appeared out of the distance, the hand wrapping itself around the demon. A shriek, a wail, as the demon, safe from all but the touch of the God of Destruction, felt the fist of that red god. The wail it let out pierced the eardrums, and the party fell to the ground as the pain went through them. Though the effect was bad on them, at this the morale of the orc armies broke completely, and they ran away.
"Here you are," Judgment said, handing Paris the Sword of Branwen. "I'm here," Rhori felt, as Hobbes bounded into his view.
The Empress nodded. "Come," she said addressing Paris. She glided up the stairs to her throne, facing away from the bridge. As Paris went around the throne, she saw two lines of warriors, all in the badge of her order, extending down the red carpet leading to the throne. The line on the right shifted, each warrior taking a step further away from the throne, and the Empress gestured to the now open space. "You have done well, Guardian. We are pleased. Take your place to our right, and we will watch the Choice." Paris moved into the indicated spot, sword at her side, in line with all of the others. On the other side, Rhori and Hobbes, too, moved to their place, opposite a spot where a mighty lion waited without his human companion.
There was a clink, and Calais opened his eyes to see the gold card of Judgment now at the foot of the door
"Alternate Ending" copyright 2000 P. Shea. The contents of this site are copyright 2004 Sheryl A. Knowles unless otherwise specified. All rights reserved.