Arris took another small step forward toward Onorien, raised the sword above his head and stepped quickly, bringing the black blade down in a quick arc. The sword sliced into Onorien’s shoulder, cutting through the deltoid muscle and biting into the bone beneath. The wizard stumbled to his left with the impact; the crystal in his hands popped up into the air and tumbled into the void over the railing.
Onorien turned quickly toward Arris, moving more quickly than Arris had anticipated, but not quickly enough to avoid being stabbed in the stomach by the black blade. In a quick move, Arris pulled the blade from Onorien’s shoulder and whirled it around for a thrust, turning the blade flat to the ground so it could easily be pushed straight through the man’s solar plexus and between any ribs so it wouldn’t get caught between bones. Arris pushed it out Onorien’s back. The wizard clasped the entry wound, his fingers curling around the blade. A trickle of blood eased from between his lips, his eyes wide with astonishment.
“You fool,” Onorien said, gravity pulling his body toward the floor and from the blade. He slapped onto the ground, his head making a hollow thud as it struck the stone floor. It was a sound with which Arris was familiar.
Arris stepped to the railing and looked over, unsurprised to see another group of the island natives below. They stared up at Arris in bewilderment and full of fear, a few of them edged slowly toward the open main door of the mansion. One man stood directly below him holding a worn cutlass, its blade narrow from decades of sharpening and usage. Arris looked into the man’s eyes, searching for the man’s next action when Arris noticed the crystal, still pulsing with spectral light, growing in intensity as it lay on the ground in the middle of the foyer.
The rainbow of light flickered out like a small bullwhip, licking the floor at first, eliminating small divots of stone with each touch. Each time it devoured substance, it grew slightly in intensity and size. Seconds passed as Arris watched the light pulse out and flicker through the air. The native with the sword turned his attention to it as well, his eyes switching from Arris to the beam of multi-colored light. For a moment, everything was silent and the eyes of everyone in the chamber watched the curious light show.
And then the beam flared, touching one of the spear-wielding natives on the calf, vaporizing his leg and quickly enveloping him in a cloud of colors. For a moment, an instant, there was a man holding a spear in a fog of rainbow light, and then there was nothing but a hollow in the air. There was no sound; the man uttered no scream, no gasp of astonishment. He had been and then wasn’t.
The native with the sword quickly changed his attention to the others on his team, all of whom were now running past him for the door, to the safety of the jungle outside. The man looked back up at Arris, looking for Arris to provide some sort of explanation to what was going on. Arris shrugged and shook his head slightly.
The beam of light let loose with another spasm, flashing across the room and eliminating a side table, deleting it from existence. The man below him stood motionless, his arms slack, the tip of his sword dangling just above the floor. Arris flexed his grip on the hilt of the black blade, gaining some comfort in its heft and firmness. He was not helpless.
Just then there was a small whimper that mounted into a wail of grief, and Nereika stumbled through the foyer below him, her hands on her own wound. She took small steps toward the door, weeping in greater intensity with each step as she made her way across the floor, tears streaming down her cheeks. She ignored the man with the sword and didn’t look up the staircase at Arris as she exited the room, her shoulders rising with each heave of breath. And then she was across the threshold and gone into the night.
The crystal pulsed with light; the beam gathered into itself and formed a ball on the floor, burrowed into the stone and created a semi-sphere the size of a beach ball, the color of the light increasing in luminance. This was enough for the sword-wielding native, who turned and sprinted for his life for the safety of the lawn beyond the door, leaving Arris atop the staircase with the dying gasps of Onorien suddenly breaking the silence of the night.
The room flashed brightly with white light. Arris’ eyes closed automatically in response and his instincts forced his body to duck into a crouch, raising his hands above his head. There was a tearing crack and Arris opened his eyes in time to see a beam of light pour up from the floor and tear a hole in the ceiling of the foyer, the stonework fracturing and crashing down. The room was beginning to cave in.
Arris turned and stared down at Onorien, who appeared to be concentrating mightily on something outside of his current reality. Arris stepped to him and bent over.