Verona charged. She held the spear in her hand, ready to fight.

  Lord Demarian leapt as well, his sword coming down on her. At the last possible second, she sidestepped it, putting distance between herself and this man. She moved to regain the distance she needed, keeping the spear’s advantage in the back of her mind. The advantage didn’t do much if her opponent could move fast and close the gap, however.

  Within a second, Lord Demarian was crouched and once again within Verona’s little bubble.

  Verona reached out with her mind, trying to wrap it around something, any essence she could take in, but none were around, save the ruby she’d drained.

  Then Lord Demarian spun and swung his sword upward, slicing through the arrow that nearly took him on the shoulder.

  Behind Demarian, Jules stood there, some blood on his face, his eyes full of determination and his trusty bow in his hand.

  Jules immediately notched another arrow into the string.

  Verona took this opportunity to regain position, stepping a couple steps back while gripping the spear firmly in her hands.

  Keep the man between the two of them. That was how they were going to win. Keep him pincered to the point where he could only focus his attention on at most one person at a time.

  Jules stepped to the right cautiously, keeping his eyes frozen on Lord Demarian.

  Verona responded to that movement by stepping to her left, her spear lowered and prepared to strike.

  Jules let out another arrow, sending it flying to their enemy. At the same time, Verona ducked lower and charged at Demarian.

  The world spun and changed, and her head was suddenly on the ground, with Lord Demarian putting all of his weight on her.

  How could he be so skillful and coordinated, while being drunk at the same time? Verona could still see the redness on his face from the night of activities, and yet they couldn’t stand a chance against him.

  “I remember you,” Lord Demarian snarled, his breath reeking of alcohol. His gaze switched between her and Jules and he let out a laugh.

  “I am just having too much fun tonight!” He let go of Verona and stepped over her body, repositioning himself so he could see both Verona and Jules in the same line of vision.

  Verona scrambled upwards, dashing for her dropped spear, but Lord Demarian stepped on it, rolling the wood in between his feet.

  “Duck!” Jules’s voice came behind her.

  She did as instructed, and an arrow zipped by above her.

  Lord Demarian had a too fast reaction time, maneuvering his sword and slicing through the wooden shaft of the arrow.

  Verona remained ducked as more and more arrows zipped past her. They all failed to even hit Lord Demarian.

  Verona stumbled back, watching as the man deflected arrows with ease in his drunken stupor. How was she so dumb to think that they could stand a chance against a man like that?

  The arrows stopped coming. Lord Demarian bore a self-satisfied smirk on his face. Verona stared at his sword and swore some kind of black particles rising and dancing around it.

  She noticed what Jules was trying to do with the assault of arrows. Lord Demarian, in his defensive maneuvers, repositioned slightly. His foot no longer on her spear, she could get her weapon again.

  She dashed forward, putting all of her power and agility into that push, and wrapped a hand around her spear. She spun it around, moving it quickly through the air, slamming the shaft of it into Lord Demarian’s face. She got him.

  A crack sounded in the otherwise still air and the Minister of Labor stumbled a little bit and fell to his knees. Verona was up in the next instant, spear raised. With both arms, she slammed the tip of the weapon down.

  But she waited too long to attack. In hindsight, she should have attacked in quick succession.

  Lord Demarian swung his blade and deflected the tip of the spear. He rolled away from Verona, regaining his footing and repositioning once again.

  Verona didn’t take time to recuperate. She charged, letting out a primal scream with the spear still in her hands, and stabbed many times at Demarian. He sidestepped, dodged, and ducked every single one of her attacks.

  Then he retaliated with a sword swing of his own, the blade of his weapon slicing through some of her clothing and ripping her flesh.

  She let out a cry of pain as more and more slashes appeared on her skin. The cuts burned hot and red with pain.

  Footsteps rung out, but Verona didn’t know whose from her head swimming in pain.

  Lord Demarian turned around just in time to see Jules running up, arrow notched in bow, sprinting at full speed.

  Verona realized that if Lord Demarian could block all of Jules’s arrows with ease, then the best course of action would be to get up close. Working against the advantages of using a bow and arrow.

  Jules moved to be right in front of Demarian and lifted his bow, firing a desperate shot. Lord Demarian jerked his head to the side, pure reaction taking over his body, and the arrow soared through empty air.

  Verona gripped her spear and struggled to stand up, her vision swimming in black. No, she had to do this. She had to work with Jules to take down this man.

  Verona plunged her spear forward, aiming for Demarian. The man twisted and turned, and she found her spear took shelter in a new target.

  Jules let out a yelp of pain as the weapon stabbed the man in the shoulder. Blood immediately started flowing from the wound.

  “I’m sorry!” Verona exclaimed.

  “It’s alright, Jocie,” Jules said, gripping the shaft of the spear and yanking it out from within his flesh.

  Lord Demarian walked slowly away from them, twirling his sword in his hand, chuckling to himself as he did.

  “Oh you guys are just so wonderful. Thank you for being my audience tonight. And here I thought I was getting bored with all my friends going to war and whatnot. You guys have given this night life! And by morning time, the men in Justicar down in Jovin City would have fallen, and you guys would be crushed.

  “You know, I was disappointed when De’Shai came to me and asked for my soldiers. I’m glad he did, as I wouldn’t have had this fun otherwise.”

  Lord Demarian stopped and slowly turned, holding the sword, poised to attack. “But all good things must come to an end, unfortunately. I truly had fun with you guys tonight, but I must finish this fight now.”

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  Verona slowly stood up, spear gripped in hand.

  “Verona, you should have stayed as a slave. You might have lived through this night if you did.”

  “Verona?” Jules said. “I thought your name was Jocie.”

  “Why is that important now?” Verona asked through pants.

  “Is that your real name?”

  “Yes, you saw the posters. You know I’m a wanted person now, congrats.”

  Jules let out a laugh. Both Lord Demarian and Verona turned to look at him. He laughed and laughed and laughed. When he stopped to take a breath, he laughed some more.

  “Fate truly is a cruel mistress,” he said. “Verona,” he whispered. “Give me the spear. You take the bow.”

  “But your vow against the spear,” Verona spoke.

  “I don’t care about that now. Just hand me the spear and you do the rest.” He unequipped himself and dropped his gear to the ground.

  Verona handed Jules the spear.

  More diamonds. More emeralds. A never-ending supply of gems, just for him. He Absorbed in more and more and he felt himself moving faster and faster still. He stopped focusing on Speed and turned around to see the king still, chasing after him. It was working.

  They ran and ran until they were out of the city. That was where Galvin’s aid ended. He only had the essence of the diamond within him to sustain himself to get to the location he needed to get to.

  When the diamonds ran out, he focused on the emerald he had stored and focused on Wind, flying high above, the king desperate in keeping up. The king threw upwards several balls of power, the core of them twisting and flickering with flames.

  He used Wind to push himself this way and that to avoid the blows from striking him. The destination lay in front of him. The wind current changed and propelled himself downward, back to the earth. He landed in front of the king, renewed and ready for another exchange.

  Metal on metal echoed out throughout the canyon they found themselves in, his location several meters behind him. He just had to get there while the king’s attention was focused on him.

  More and more blows came in, and more and more blows were blocked. Invigoration filled him as he Absorbed his amethyst. He felt the essence trickle in as he Absorbed in the last of it.

  When he found himself with an interlocked stalemate with Rai’Shal, Galvin pushed himself off and rolled away, Absorbing in some more emerald and sending out a blast of wind, propelling him up and away from the king, landing right where he wanted.

  Rai’Shal let out another snarl before leaping forwards, quarterstaff in hand. Galvin couldn’t help but smile. All his efforts, all his pain, had finally paid off. He had won. He looked down at his feet to the lone opal which had the essence swirling inside it, its essence focused on one word: Illusion.

  In the heat of the moment, while the king was battling him, he had not noticed the terrain around him had morphed and changed. The area around appeared as a natural-forming canyon, and he accepted the surrounding as truth. But that was far from it.

  Galvin stomped on the opal, crushing it under his feet and shutting off the flow of magic from circling around within it. He felt the air as the essence dissipated into nonexistence, and at the same time, the illusion disappeared, revealing people there. Thirty to be exact, all around the perimeter, standing above the two of them with bows raised and arrows primed, pointed down.

  One of those people was Darius, who insisted on coming this night to see the king dead. He also had a bow in his hand, although the arrow pointed way off its mark.

  One of the archers let out a primal cry and loosed the arrow, sending it soaring to the two of them.

  Galvin expected this. He Absorbed in more emerald, and mimicked what they were taught for the battle for Rathalin. A bubble of wind appeared above and around him which would block any arrow that struck.

  More and more arrows were loosed. Jules had trained them well. Wherever he was now. Galvin silently thanked the man for all he’s done.

  I’m sorry, he thought to Seldam. He had used Jovin City as bait to draw out most of the forces, to make getting to the king much easier. By now, the city was probably in ruins. He’d told them a false plan to get them on board, and it worked as he thought. The city was empty, and it made reaching the king’s room simple. No alarm was raised as he made way for the palace.

  If he hadn’t been able to directly get to the king, then he wouldn’t have been able to lead him away from the city, to the trap that they set up.

  Around him, more and more arrows rained down, striking various parts of the king. Several struck his leg, his neck, through his forehead, his heart, everywhere.

  Jovin City was a small price to pay to lead to this moment, and Galvin would never forget their sacrifice. But a small part of him did feel guilty for condemning those innocent people to their deaths.

  A tradeoff.

  The people of Jovin City in the now in exchange for all the people, in the present and future that live or will live all throughout Agnius. The people who would live in fear no longer, who would wake up in the morning to a great and free nation. They would wake up to find the nation liberated from a tyrant.

  Galvin’s mission was complete. He had won.

  The hail of arrows ceased. They had brought along with them thousands of arrows, split between the thirty of them. All those arrows had been exhausted. Cheers erupted from where the people stand. Galvin couldn’t help but crack a smile as well.

  In front of him, the old king was on his knees, his head bowed, his body a porcupine of arrows.

  Galvin walked up to the king and knelt beside him. His eyes were closed. No way he could live through a hail of arrows such as that. Blood seeped out from every single wound the arrows struck. There had to be a gem on that cape somewhere that protected the king from death, and with the hail of arrows such as that, it must have shattered.

  “Looks like the people win,” Galvin whispered, staring at the king’s face. “In all your glorious rule, controlling the people as thought they’re slaves you thought yourself to be above even death. May you rest in peace.”

  Then the king’s eyes snapped open.