The Angaran Chronicles: A False Legacy by Ben Agar (little readers .TXT) 📖

that you could use your influence to bring down the church.'

 

'Shut. The. Hell. Up,' Arken roared and reached within himself. Using his rage, he summoned the shield of light that burst from his hands. It sent the enclosing goblins screeching and writhing off their feet their weapons flinging from their grasp.

 

He raised his hand and summoned a fireball. He filled it with all his will and all his aura; it eclipsed his arm to the elbow. Arken's master had been a dedicated infiltrator and swordsman, so taught Arken only the fundamentals.

 

When Arken threw that fireball no one was more surprised than him when it exploded in the troll's face in the wall of flame so large it coated everything around it in a good four-metre radius.

 

It took a second for Arken's surprise to wane and he felt a grin spread as the voices began to ebb.

 

Then the flames cleared.

 

'How?' Arken cried.

 

The troll still stood, its giant hand raised, emitting a light shield.

 

'How?' Arken said again, stumbling a step forward. 'Y-you can't-'

 

'Trolls cannot use magic?' said the troll as it dismissed the shield with a flick of its wrist. 'Besides our racial ability to summon goblins? The pillar showed me much, little Hunter. Taught me much, as well. Do you see now? It is able to bend not just others to its will, but the very laws of this world itself.'

 

The goblins were now on their feet and moving to surround Arken again. Their cackling sharp on his ears.

 

'Now, little Hunter, I have been holding back,' it said. 'Do not make me destroy you. You will gain power beyond your ken.'

 

The voices came back, stronger than ever, and it almost froze Arken. Arken's sword flickered and cut down the nearest goblin, and he began to absorb the world's magical radiation. He flinched at the suddenness it absorbed into his being. It seemed the obelisk wasn't just enhancing his enemy's magic for a reason he could begin to comprehend.

 

He dodged a slashing axe, then parried a stabbing sword. His riposte sliced through the back of its legs as Arken burst into a sprint. One goblin tried to tackle into him, but Arken punched it away.

 

'What are you doing?' the troll snarled.

 

Arken smiled. He had theorised it couldn't read all his thoughts and this confirmed it.

 

As Arken thrust for the troll, it sneered, and in the last second, projected another shield which Arken's sword smashed off in a spray of sparks. Then Arken tried to use blink, but nothing happened.

 

Arken bellowed out an enraged roar and slashed, again and again. He ignored the impacts up his arms. He must have hit a dozen times in the span of a few seconds and as he did, he absorbed radiation.

 

So he summoned another fireball.

 

'What are you doing?' said the troll. 'That will not penetrate my shield. All you will do is cook yourself.'

 

'It isn't for you,' Arken grinned then turned and tossed the fireball amongst the goblins charging toward him.

 

Their simultaneous screech as they were flung or immolated was almost deafening.

 

The troll snarled and expanded the shield, forcing Arken to dart back.

 

'That is enough,' it roared and swiped out at him.

 

Arken weaved under the arm then darted at the troll, but its punching claw caused him to slide aside.

 

It bashed down, and Arken sidestepped. Its elongated arm crashed into the floor, sending debris exploding outward along its entire length.

 

Arken dashed to cut into the arm but the other one swept around. Arken knelt beneath the blow. He heard it inhale.

 

'Shit,' he said, turning just in time to see it exhale fire, like the dragons of legend.

 

He threw himself flat a split second before being cooked. His evasion so desperate, agony tore through his shoulder, but he didn't have time even to cry out before he was on his feet and running. The flame followed him by less than an inch. Sweat sprung from his every pore.

 

Arken grimaced as he saw the cavern wall getting closer and closer, yet the flame had not even begun to abate.

 

He didn't have much radiation left, but he had just enough.

 

Arken summoned it to his hand, and with a desperate cry, flung a burst of light into the troll's eye.

 

It screamed in pain and reeled away, clutching at its face.

 

Arken slid into a turn and charged, drawing his blade back to stab it in the throat, but he almost ran full tilt into the troll's light shield.

 

Arken let out a scream as frustration burst to the surface.

 

'Do you fucking have an infinite supply of radiation?' he roared.

 

'You ungrateful little shit,' the troll said. 'I offer you knowledge and power beyond your imagination, and you repay me like this.'

 

'I-," Arken was interrupted as, against his will, he took a step forward.

 

The troll's laughter echoed through his skull.

 

'There it is. Everyone gives in eventually. Even a freak such as you.'

 

Arken took another step and threw his sword to the ground with a clatter.

 

The troll dispersed the shield and looked down at Arken with its one working eye.

 

'The obelisk wants you dead,' it said as it began to approach. 'You have angered it almost as much as I.'

 

Arken clenched his teeth and fought to stop the next step.

 

'I will enjoy this, and I can assure you, little Hunter, it will not be quick.'

 

It tilted its head. 'Nor painless.'

 

'That is enough,' bellowed a voice behind Arken and the troll straightened at what it saw.

 

'How? How did you get down here?' demanded the troll.

 

Arken turned despite every iota of his body protesting, and shock tore through him. The priest stood, his staff raised in defiance, the side of his head running with blood. It wasn't just him. The entire town seemed to be filing into the cavern; their faces contorted in rage and strain.

 

'We are here because you lost concentration, troll,' said the priest. 'And we are here to reclaim our own minds.'

 

'But. You know this is all pointless,' the troll exclaimed with surprising desperation. 'You know the truth. Without its guidance, why have you not given into despair?'

 

'We do not care. If we die, we will die free,' said the priest as fire exploded from the top of his staff. 'Free from you, it and Jaroai.'

 

'You traitorous filth,' the troll snapped. 'I will enjoy killing you.'

 

Then with a roar, the troll charged.

 

'Avert your eyes,' the priest bellowed as he spun his staff and a blinding beam of light blasted from its tip. It was the most significant, most potent piece of light magic Arken had ever seen.

 

A shield erupted from the troll's hands, and the light beam hit it so hard the troll was sent stumbling back a few metres.

 

It roared and kept onward, struggling to take each step against the beam.

 

Arken pushed away his surprise and started to fight to regain his body. He couldn't just watch.

 

It felt like hours as the troll came closer and closer to the priest and his people. Arken didn't know how long the priest could keep it up for, but he suspected it wouldn't be long enough. When the troll was around seven metres away, Arken managed to start moving his fingers. About five metres, his arms. Nearly four, his knees. Arken roared with the effort and clenched his teeth so hard he feared they would shatter. Then near three metres, Arken could move his feet. It was then the priest's beam began to weaken.

 

The troll was only about one metre when Arken regained his legs.

 

Arken fell into a run, as fast as he could with his pained, deadened limbs. It was like he was in a nightmare. Arken knew he wasn't going to make it in time and he scooped up his sword.

 

But then the priest stopped his light blast.

 

Because the troll's weight was so far forward, it lost its balance but was quick to recover.

 

The stumble lasted less than a second, but it was enough time for Arken to catch up, and with all his strength, he plunged his sword into the back of its knee.

 

Troll screamed in agony and collapsed into a kneel. Its shield flickered and died.

 

'Out of the way, Hunter!' the priest bellowed.

 

Arken dived aside as the priest summoned a fireball and threw it, encasing the troll from head to toe in flames. Such was the fire's intensity that all it took was a few seconds before the troll's screams died and it fell face-first to the ground, dead.

 

But that didn't stop the whispering in Arken's head, and he soon lost control again.

 

Then he started toward the crowd of cheering bellowing locals.

 

'You have to run,' he wanted to scream. 'You must run.' But he couldn't, no matter how hard he fought to yell.

 

The priest noticed him, and his eyes met Arken's.

 

'It is time for me to return the favour I suppose,' he said, then smacked the pole of his staff against Arken's head, causing the world to waver, then go black.

 

Epilogue

 Arken awoke with a start. Despite the pain thundering through him and his blurred, spinning vision, it took an instant to see he was in a cell. The walls made from stone, the bars of iron. It reminded him of the cell he'd been kept in by the Hunters, years ago. He felt the cold iron manacles clasped around his wrists and heard the chains rattle as he writhed.

 

'Good,' said a voice and Arken's attention snapped to its source. A large, well-built human who seemed in his late twenties stood in the cell with him. His arms were as thick as a troll's gut, and his features looked like they'd been carved from granite. He was shaven bald, and his thin, scarred lips smirked down at Arken. 'You are finally awake; I've been waiting and waiting.'

 

The man's accent was Varmorian, throaty and coarse like his throat was forever inhabited by thick phlegm, but nasally too.

 

'Who are you?' Arken managed through dry lips.

 

The man hushed him, approached, took out a flask and forced Arken to drink.

 

'If you must know, detective Arken, my name is Garron and I, like you am a Hunter.'

 

'Never heard of you,' said Arken.

 

'Ohh! How could you hurt my precious feelings like that,' said Garron. 'Or I would be saying that if that wasn't the point. You are not meant to know about me, young Arken. Most of your kind don't.'

 

Arken's eyes widened, and he almost spat out the water, instead, he inhaled it, and Garron had to take away the flask so Arken could writhe in his coughing fit.

 

'Oh? What is wrong?' said Garron.

 

'Why?' managed Arken through his coughing. 'Why am I here? Am I a prisoner of the Hunters? Why am I a prisoner? Did I do something wrong?'

 

Garron burst out in laughter, but it held no humour. 'No. No. You perform exemplary. To above and beyond, even to a fault. We think.'

 

Arken felt his eyes narrow. 'What?'

 

'You didn't kill them — the townsfolk. We wish that you did. You would have saved us much dirty business. Much, much dirty business, indeed. We killed everyone — even the priest. Every bit the hero, aren't you not? Managing to resist the influence of the pillars longer than anyone has before.'

 

This information should've horrified him, but he felt nothing.

 

'Obelisk,' said Arken.

 

'What?'

 

'It was an obelisk, not a pillar.'

 

Garron smirked again and pointed at Arken with a wobbling