Fatal Rescue

"Ginx, you horrible bastard," Sir Mat Helsing roared, pointing his sword at the treacherous knight.

Sir Ginx fumed as he saw him, knitting his brows in a deep frown. "And what do you know, Helsing?"

"Oh, I know a lot. I know how your traitorous self has been sneaking out to meet Libra mages. I know the whole schedule of your meetings. I know how they told you to bring the boy and what they promised you in return."

Sir Mat Helsing's appearance and declaration caught Sir Ginx cold, and it took him sometime to find his voice. "Why then did you keep silent?" he asked as he regained his composure.

"Why, you ask? The patriarch had had me watch you for a long time, and I'd have slain you a thousand times over, but he objects, for he so much loves you. He grants you respite, but your death is now inevitable."

"Who's your screaming comrade," the bald Libra mage asked, annoyed by the interference in their business.

"One of Lord Blue Beard's dogs," answered Ginx. "I don't blame him much though; he's his grandson after all."

"Ah, I see," said Grandmaster Tudor. "The famous Matador himself, and is Lord Blue Beard coming? I should like to see him one more time."

"I have nothing to say to dead men," answered Sir Mat Helsing, still seeing red. "As for the patriarch, I've decided to spare him the sight of your guts."

Kosrov laughed so hard at the declaration that tears rolled down from his eyes down into his nose. "Ginx," he said between bouts, "you did not tell us your Lord's dogs are this pathetic. A silly fellow this one is, talking about killing us all."

"Oh, I won't lay a single finger on you. Of that, you can be sure," said Sir Mat Helsing.

"Then, what is your business here," the grandmaster asked with a threatening impatience.

Sir Mat Helsing smiled. "I'm only buying time. I've sent Lena to get the boy's master; they will be here any moment."

"Master Vauxall?" Sir Ginx asked.

"Who else will be happier to have your head?"

The woman mage shook her head. "Lord," she said, "if the boy has a master as this knight says, then it will serve us good to come to an agreement between him. It is not of my making to forcefully take things."

"Then why did you join Libra? Kosrov yelled at her.

The grandmaster fixed his sinister gaze on her. "Are you implying that my methods are wrong?"

She shook her head again, "No, I just have a bad feeling about this."

"Fear not, we are three masters ourselves," said the bald one, "and we even have a grandmaster on our side. Let him come, we should be even happier to have his head."

"No," said Ginx, "you can have the Helsing and do whatever you want with the boy. Only one thing I claim – Master Vauxall. I'll wring his pompous head with these very hands, this time for sure."

"You can say that to his face when he comes," said Sir Mat.

"I can't wait."

"And you won't."

As if to illustrate Sir Mat Helsing's words, three horses scudded towards the party with great speed. The first horse at the center had Master Vauxall, charging with fury. The next had Dame Lena, and the last was ridden by Kael, with Kyra behind him, clutching tightly to both mount and rider.

"I'm afraid I cannot fulfill your wish, Ginx," said the bald man and rushed at Master Vauxall with his blade drawn. He had only covered two paces when a thunderbolt struck him from nowhere, splitting him from his head to his feet. He fell to the ground, body torn apart, dead in an instant.

Master Vauxall jumped off the horse and sprinted ten times faster towards the group. From what Ashviel had learnt in the battle at Tvinn, Master Vauxall was a man of little ceremony when battling mages. Without so much as an introduction, he ravages his enemies with fury. He roared and raised his hand up, and his long sword materialized with a streak.

The woman master, being a woman of quick wits and actions, knew immediately that she was no match for Master Vauxall. She hastily mounted her horse, intent on fleeing, but she committed the gravest and last of her mistakes in the act- she tried to take Ashviel along her. Master Vauxall's sword struck her by the neck, piercing through her nape and perhaps dashing through her brains. It emerged out of her eye socket, dripping with fresh blood and a grayish fluid. She mumbled some words before falling to the ground.

Ashviel felt his breath caught in his throat as he tried not to retch at the sight. He wanted to look away, needed to tear his eyes away, but he could not. Struck with pity, he said a silent prayer for her soul as she tumbled to the ground. In all likelihood, she was only following the orders of her lord, Grandmaster Tudor.

By that time, Dame Lena had already gotten to where he was. She held him by the cloth and tossed him out of danger to Sir Mat. Kael and Kyra had also reached the field and they jumped down from the horse as soon as they got to him.

"Are you alright?" asked Kael.

"Yeah, I think."

"We heard the dame telling your master, and we couldn't stay back," said Kyra, her hair disheveled from riding.

"Thanks," said Ashviel.

"Ginx! You bloody squint-eyed bastard!" Kael snarled at the perfidious knight. "So this was your plan all along. I should have known you were nothing more than a bloody swine."

If Sir Ginx was annoyed by Kael's words, his expression did not show it at all. Rather he looked pale, unable to move in any way.

"Stay away kids," said Sir Helsing, "this battle is won already." He took his horse around Ginx, running in circles as if to make sure he does not escape. "What is the matter Ginx? Have you seen a ghost?" he asked with a derisive laughter.

A loud crash brought them all to a standstill as Grandmaster Tudor's wind attack whizzed past Master Vauxall and landed on the distant ground, creating a gully immediately. He launched a ball of fire to Master Vauxall, but the orb dissipated inches before its target.

Then Master Vauxall fired his – a blast of raw Rek that sent the grandmaster tottering backwards. Kosrov tried to interfere, but Master Vauxall waved his hand at him, and a rapping tempest followed, far greater in might and precision than Ashviel had ever seen.

The brash mage was torn into two from his waist; his upper body flew high, allowing his guts to drop from his abdomen, collapsing to the ground at the same time his severed legs did.

The whole fight had barely lasted for thirty seconds, but in those seconds three masters had died and a grandmaster was on his knees.

The grandmaster stood up quickly, but not quick enough to dodge the next attack. He was thrown back again, this time falling to the ground. Master Vauxall drew nearer, a ravaging rage evident on his face.

"You long for a taste of damnation?" he asked the grandmaster, with a deep voice portending doom. "I will grant you a taste, and a little more." As he spoke, a black smoke sharply rose from his palms. He stuck out a finger and the smoke moved over it, reduced to a tiny orb. The clouds above him darkened immediately, and strings of Rek revolved fiercely round him.

The grandmaster was again on his feet and was about to hurl an attack when the small dark orb soared swiftly at him. He made to repel it with his hand but to his dismay, the orb ravaged his whole arm and would have had his neck if he had not moved away as quick as he could.

Terrified, stupefied and mystified, he placed his other hand on the ground, and a tremor shook the earth, threatening to destroy the whole wasteland. A firestorm followed and a fog of smoke and flames prevented Ashviel from seeing clearly, though from the deafening crashes and thunderous claps that resounded around the wasteland each moment, he could imagine the two hurling huge spells at each other.

The other mages had their attention captured by the fight, including Sir Ginx. It lasted for about a minute, and the dark clouds finally disappeared as the black orb was put out. The haze ebbed and a sole figure appeared.

On his right hand was a gaping head, drawn by the hair and with parts of the spine still attached. He tossed the plucked head to his side and faced Sir Ginx, who felt his blood run cold immediately.

"What is wrong Ginx?" Sir Mat Helsing called from a distance. "Weren't you going to wrench his head? Go on, meet your death."

All the while, Master Vauxall came closer and closer to Sir Ginx. Each step he took killed Ginx a thousand times over. He had nowhere to run, absolutely nowhere to hide.

Then, as if struck by a sudden madness, he rushed at Master Vauxall, yelling all the way, until he was seized by a chain of Rek. He struggled to release himself but for only a short while, as Master Vauxall paralyzed him with a single basilisk look. Then he held up two fingers and Sir Ginx appeared to burn from the inside, as if Master Vauxall was controlling his torch to release fire Rek on him. It was a horrible death – the flames burnt him from his feet to his head. He screamed and cried, pleaded and begged, inciting mixed feelings in the onlookers, but it was far too late for him.

Ashviel had always found Master Vauxall a mystery. While the mage was a mirthful fellow, he was quick to become a demon whenever it comes to protecting Ashviel. This further added to the mystery of what the apotheosis means, and why the master had decided to keep it unknown.

He walked over to them, his rage receding after eliminating the threats. "You have my thanks, Lord Master Vauxall," said Sir Helsing, getting off his horse and adopting a special reverence for Master Vauxall.

"I insist to be known as Master," he replied, as if nothing had happened at all.

The package that was brought in exchange for Ashviel had not survived the attack. It lay in a distance, scourged to nothingness by a stream of magical attacks.

Suddenly, they had more pounding footsteps from the direction of the academy. They all turned at once and saw that it was only a single hulky man running faster than a horse could ever be. It was Lord Blue Beard himself, charging at them at breakneck speed.

"Vauxall!" he roared, "What have you done?"