Of Blood And Fire by Ryan Cahill (best classic books of all time .txt) 📕

up from behind Calen, swinging his sword in a downward arc. Just as his sword collided with the Fade’s black-fire blade, Aeson came charging from the other direction. The three of them redoubled their efforts, pushing harder and harder at the creature, not letting up. Maybe…just maybe.

“Enough!” The Fade twisted its hand into a fist before slamming it into the stone floor, sending a shockwave in all directions. Calen didn’t feel it draw from the Spark, but somehow he was thrown backwards, crashing into one of the sprawling columns that lined the hall. He heaved himself to his feet, pushing the pain to the back of his head. But Ellisar had risen quicker.

Calen’s heart sank into his stomach as he watched the black-fire blade arc through the air. He watched as Ellisar parried the first strike, and he dropped to his knees as the second swing separated the elf’s head from his shoulders.

Ellisar’s body dropped, lifeless, to the floor. He had given an oath to protect Calen. To follow him to the void or beyond. And that was exactly where Calen led him.

Calen’s stomach lurched. He lifted himself to his feet. A mix of fury and fear burned through him as his feet carried him towards the Fade. He didn’t even move to react as thick threads of Air pummelled into his chest. He hit the ground with an agonising crack.

“I might keep you,” the Fade said as it stood over him. It cocked its head to the side, staring down at him with its dark eyes. “You could be an interesting… project.”

The Fade carried on muttering to itself, as if Calen weren’t even there. When Calen tried to get to his feet, he was slammed back to the floor. Threads of Air pushed down against his chest and shoulders. The Fade barely gave a hint that it had noticed – just an irritated flash of its eyes – but the invisible weight that bore down on Calen’s body was evidence enough.

Amidst the chaos, Calen remembered Daymon. The prince still floated in front of the throne, as he had since the darkness had peeled back, but his eyes were no longer filled with fear. They were following something by the corner of the throne.

Valerys.

The young dragon skulked around the dais, its head held low against the floor, like a wolfpine hunting its prey. Calen felt his pain. Every step sent fire through him. Fear filled every crack in Calen’s mind. He couldn’t lose Valerys. He couldn’t lose anyone else, but especially not him. He cried out in his mind, urging the dragon to hide, but Valerys heeded no warnings. He moved closer to the Fade, every purposeful step like a burning knife, but Valerys didn’t stop.

Just as the Fade began to turn, it howled in pain as a bolt of blue lightning slammed into its chest. Calen watched as Aeson charged at the Fade, his twin blades spinning in his hands. The two of them exchanged a flurry of blows. If the Fade had been a man, it would have died twice over. But it wasn’t. The mortal wounds that Aeson inflicted did nothing more than slow it down. Aeson, on the other hand, was a man. And his wounds were taking their toll on his already weary body.

Calen knew he needed to do something… anything. He reached out for the Spark. His energy was already fading, and his muscles burned, but there was nothing else he could do. The Fade spun on his heels. Even in that cold, dead face, Calen saw the anger. The outrage. As if he were disgusted that Calen would not simply resign himself to his fate.

The threads of Air holding him down pushed even harder. He felt his bones stressing under the weight. They felt as though they would shatter.

Valerys was behind the Fade now, and the creature didn’t notice. He was too focused on Aeson and Calen.

Calen felt something in Valerys, something that he had not felt before. It was building, steadily. An enormous pressure. Without thinking, Calen kept reaching for the Spark. He focused his mind. Closing his eyes, he reached out. That ball of ever-moving energy. Its five elemental strands weaving around each other, twisting and pulsating, radiating power, like they had since the dawn of time. Calen reached. He pulled at the strands of Spirit and Fire. He didn’t know why, but that was what he needed. He pulled at them, dragging threads into him, then funnelled them into Valerys. Even as the Fade pushed harder and harder, crushing Calen into the stone floor. He kept drawing from the Spark. He felt consciousness slipping from his grasp – his soul drifting away.

He couldn’t take much more. Aeson needed to move. Calen screamed at the top of his lungs. “Aeson!”

Aeson didn’t hesitate. He threw himself to the ground.

The pressure at the back of Calen’s mind stopped. Valerys’s head kicked back, and his chest expanded. A river of fire poured forth from the dragon’s mouth, a torrent of flickering orange and red flame that consumed the Fade in its entirety. It howled, a piercing shriek like nothing else Calen had ever heard. It was as though its soul was being torn from its body. A feeling of intense power coursed through Calen as the fire cascaded from Valerys’s jaws. In that moment, they were one. Calen pushed everything he had into Valerys, feeling the dragon’s rage burn through him.

There was no way that anything could have survived, but still, the fear didn’t seep from Calen’s bones until he watched Daymon fall to the ground. Until the flames lost their vigour and flickered out of existence, leaving only a pile of char and ash in their wake.

Therin’s voice drummed on the edge of Calen’s consciousness, as if the elf’s head were underwater. He had drawn too deeply from the Spark. He knew it. He felt himself slipping away. His vision blurred. Calen felt a hand rest on his chest. A warm glow