Timothy heard the amogh roar, and a squeal from Grogg. He rolled as quickly as he could towards his staff, reaching it just in time to hear the goblin begin to shout something in a language unknown to the mage. Timothy turned his head to see the amogh, bearing a sword, forcing the goblin against a tree.
"You want payment? Here is all that you deserve."
Timothy closed his eyes as he heard the goblin squeal one more time, and then the sound of a blade hitting wood. He had no love for the goblin, but the creature's murder had been brutal, and Timothy was too kind to wish it on any living thing.
"Now it's your turn, sorcerer," the amogh said, turning towards Timothy.
The young mage frantically began to whisper every word he could think of that would release him from his bonds.
"Vahailen. Eslang. Kopismilia!" The rope immediately fell apart, as if it had been cut with a sharp blade. Timothy rolled to the side just as the assassin's sword slammed into the ground, missing the mage by inches.
He desperately swung his staff into the air, and felt a satisfying crunch as it slammed into his opponent's nose. He half crawled, half ran into the forest and ducked behind a tree. It was a poor hiding place, but it would function for the time being.
"Oh, you're a fighter. I like a challenge," he heard the amogh call.
Timothy prepared to run, but suddenly realized where he was standing.
To his back was the large field that he had just come from. If he ran that way, it would only be seconds until he was caught or shot by his enemy. To his front was a swamp, full of wet, sticky mud. If he were to venture into it, he would most likely be swallowed alive by the ground itself. He stood a better chance against the amogh than running through the desolate muck with no supplies.
He frantically began to look around him for something, anything, that was capable of killing a trained assassin impervious to magic.
Then he found it. On the ground, only a few feet from him was a huge, deep mud puddle. How he had avoided stepping into it, Timothy would never know.
Mustering all his magic, the young mage whispered one word. "Akae." Water.
The moisture was sucked out of the puddle and into a dense ball about five feet under the ground. Then, in his mind, he began to work the magic so that when the spell broke, the water would return to its original position.
The strain of the spell was incredible, so much so that Timothy began to doubt that he would be able to hold it for as long as he needed. He purposefully stepped on a twig as sweat began to break out on his brow.
It took only a few seconds for the assassin to charge into the woods, though it felt like an eternity to the young sorcerer. The man had dropped his crossbow and was wielding two swords, with blood streaming down his face.
"Are you ready to die?" he asked.
Timothy nodded, though he was unable to speak due to the pressure of the magic.
The amogh took a step onto the ground directly above the spell. As soon as he did, Timothy's last bit of strength gave out. With a scream, the young mage released his power, and the dirt and water instantly returned to its state of sticky, strong mud.
The heavy amogh immediately sunk to his thighs in the wettest part of the muck, dropping both of his swords in a desperate attempt to lunge for the nearest tree branch.
Timothy stumbled behind the nearest tree and fell to his knees, unable to move an inch.
He covered his ears until the screams of his enemy were drowned in the earth.
"Aaliyah!" Aidan yelled, running to the middle of their campsite. He heard a moan from somewhere in the trees and ran to it.
One of the amoghs was propped up against a tree, an arrow sprouted from his blood soaked torso. He had pushed his hood back to reveal a face that couldn't be more than twenty years old.
After fearing this man for so long, it was strange for Aidan to see him so helpless and defeated, his lifeblood dripping onto the grass.
The mage knelt down on one knee in front of him, though he kept a tight hand on his staff. There was still a chance that this was only a trap.
"What do you want, mage?" he said through ragged gasps.
"You know what I want," Aidan said, his heartbeat strangely calm. "Where is Aaliyah?"
"Boss took her. He wants you to follow him, so she's still alive. They went that way." The amogh raised a shaky hand in an attempt to point further into the forest, but was unable to straighten his finger.
Aidan stood to leave, but the amogh caught his shoulder. "Wait, before you leave," The young assassin pushed a dagger into the mage's hand. "End it. Please."
Aidan eyes widened. "I-I can't do that."
The amogh gave a weak chuckle. "Your girlfriend's aim is true. I'm dying, mage. Now end it, I'm in pain."
Aidan looked at the knife in his hand. The name "Lucas" had been etched into the wooden hilt.
"Lucas," he said, "You may have been my enemy, but you fought bravely." The amogh closed his eyes and smiled. For a moment they were just two boys. Whether they were friends, enemies, mages, amoghs, assassins or sorcerers mattered not. For that one second, they were both members of humanity.
Then Aidan turned his head and plunged the dagger into Lucas's heart.
Aidan's anger was as potent as it had ever been as he crashed through the forest. He wasn't sure why his rage burned so hot, but he knew who to take it out on. For years, he had learned to deal with every problem in his life with anger. He no longer needed a cause for it, just an excuse. Between Lucas's death, Aaliyah's capture, and Timothy's desertion, Aidan had a more than valid excuse to let his anger burn hot against his enemy.
And so, though his arm was broken, his magic was unstable, and his only real asset was currently captured by the enemy, Aidan charged through the forest, in a manner that would have made Aaliyah cringe from its complete lack of stealth. He kept running until he came to a clearing. It was about twenty feet long and wide, and a small, two person griffin was tied to a tree on one side, next to a few packs. Aaliyah lay in the middle, facedown, her wrists tied behind her back with a strong rope.
Aidan considered stopping and waiting outside the clearing, but he figured the amogh would be expecting that. Instead, he pressed the button on his staff to release the blade and ran towards his friend, hoping to surprise his hidden enemy. Aaliyah was unconscious and disarmed, with a large gash on her forehead, but otherwise unscathed.
The moment he reached her he began to saw at the ropes. He had no idea what he would do once his friend was free, but in truth, he doubted he would get that far.
Aidan suddenly felt an absence of magic in the air behind him and swung around with his staff. The amogh caught it easily and twisted it out of the mage's hand, throwing him and the weapon to the ground in one smooth motion.
"Did you honestly think that you, an untrained, injured sorcerer, could defeat me, the greatest assassin in all of Sortiledge?"
Aidan's mind began to race for ideas. His anger was quickly fading, replaced by fear, and he was beginning to realize that he had put Aaliyah in more danger. As long as he had remained free, the amogh would have kept her alive to attempt to lure Aidan to a trap. Now, however, there would be nothing to keep him from killing the girl.
The sorcerer was about to resort to yelling out as much of The Sorcerer's Tongue as he had memorized when he saw one of Aaliyah's eyes open. In the same moment, he noticed that his staff had fallen on her back, and she was using the blade to saw at the rope.
All I have to do is stall him. Aidan thought.
"You can't kill me. Your master wants me alive." He said.
The amogh laughed. "You know nothing about my employer. And he doesn't want anything to do with you, just your ring. He doesn't want you killed because he doesn't know if that would affect its power."
"But I can destroy the ring whenever I want," Aidan said, pulling it off his finger. "And then what will your master do to you?"
The amogh's eyes narrowed. "You're bluffing. No wizard can do that."
"But I'm not a wizard. I'm the greatest mage to ever live." Aidan really hoped Aaliyah was almost free. He wouldn't be able to distract the amogh for much longer, and he had never been a good liar.
The assassin considered his words. "I think my employer was wrong about the importance of your life."
Aidan's heart flew into a panic as the amogh unsheathed a knife and raised it above his head-
And dropped it to the ground, where it embedded itself no more than two inches from Aidan's leg.