Yipion - part 5

Confused about the meaning of the statement, the prince materialized his warm energy into a fiery whip, and wiggled it about. The two spirits struck out with fire breath, but the figure seemed unaffected by the flames, and while drawing a sharp thin blade it dashed towards the first, and then towards the second. They both collapsed, punctured by the wizard in a precise spot and manner.

“You, you can’t kill them!” the voice rang out in the cavern.

“I killed them just as easily as I will kill you.”

Yipion slashed with his own flames, only to see his target dodging and throwing something his way. He managed to evade, but in an instant his enemy was upon him, striking him down to the ground. Its hood fell off, revealing a beautiful young woman of orange eyes and thin lips. Yipion had never been fond of women, but this one was particularly charming. He pushed her and struck again with his whip, but the woman caught it in her hand, and it froze. The prince could barely notice the frost, spreading through the whip into his hand. When he did, it was too late. Stuck to the whip, his right arm was an easy target. All he could do was draw his sword with the left hand and hope to melt the ice before the sorceress could kill him.

He didn’t. The woman was too fast and gripped his left arm with an invisible hand. Dashing, she slashed his right arm at the elbow and knocked him out with a blow to the temple.

On the floor, bleeding fast from the arm, Yipion was finished. A foolish boy defeated by greed. And by innocence. Of all things his father feared, innocence was the worst. His only wish was for his son to be a good man, to survive out there in the world. Innocence made him weak, deceivable, almost childish.

But if innocence would have gotten him killed, there was one thing that kept him alive, and as the woman was delivering the fatal blow to the throat, her arm broke, and she was pushed away, dropping the knife.

“Die already!” the voice sounded.

The woman’s arms were pulled to either side, and as she struggled to keep them attached to her body, her knife rose up in the air and struck her right in the stomach.

A gulp of blood spouted out of her mouth as she nearly choked. Losing strength, her arms first broke at the elbow, and then at the shoulder. The skin and flesh was ripped out, leaving an armless body on the floor, bloodied and torn apart.

For the next minutes the voice conjured a powerful spell to heal Yipion’s arm, but it too was running weary. The energy required to break the magic defences of the sorceress was immense, more than it had ever used.

Eventually the prince’s arm was healed, and the bleeding stopped.

And fortunately, nobody knew they were there.

When Yipion woke up, he felt fully healed. The first thing he saw was the woman’s corpse. Rotten, full of flies and maggots. The smell was noxious, and so Yipion burned the body.

With renewed strength, he felt ready to pursue his one and only enemy.

“Do not go,” the voice said. “That’s what he wants. His army awaits, it will only tire you out so he can deliver the final blow.”

“What do you propose? Retreat?”

“No…I have a special spell I’ve been meaning to use. But I need your help. We must meditate and join our energies.”

Yipion agreed, as whatever it was the mysterious voice had planned, it would indeed be better than facing the whole army alone.

And so he sat and entered a profound slumber, a state of self-awareness, in touch with the earth and the Flux. He sensed and absorbed all energy around him, and then some more, and then more. He would become a greater spirit, something different. He would be Yipion, the prince, no more.

Yipion - part 4

Almost a week had passed and the armies of the Mountain Kingdoms – Inur’l and Orago – were now up the Black Mountain, seizing their victory. At the front was Yipion and his mighty behemoth. He didn’t care for the men of the Kingdoms, though they were his vassals. His eyes had long since been set upon the fortresses at the peak. There he knew he would find his true enemy.

On the morning of the seventh day Yipion woke up to the sound of the voice:

“Your father comes. Be…nice,” it laughed quietly at its own words.

On the hill Yipion saw a forward party from the Kingdoms’ army. There was nothing peculiar about it, and he wondered if the voice was trying to trick him.

When the horsemen arrived, one of them stepped off his horse and removed his helmet. Dressed as a common soldier, Yipion’s father, the King would at long last come to meet his son.

“Son…” the King mumbled, tears in his eyes.

“Father, you may be gone,” the prince said coldly.

Shock spread over his father’s face, speechless, motionless.

“I don’t know if I shall feel sad, sorry or have you killed…”

“Just be gone,” Yipion faced away from the party and leaped onto the behemoth’s back.

The King burst in tears, angry tears, frustrated tears. His face turned red, and he clenched his fists. Back on his horse, he rode down the hill and ordered an immediate withdrawal.

“We shall take the mountain back…once he comes crawling back for help,” he told one of his generals.

The voice heard everything. It always did. And it told Yipion, who didn’t care at all about the men of the Kingdoms. And so up the mountain he went, flying atop his mighty beast.

Suddenly, the air froze, his mouth spitting puffs of vapour. He instantly readied his sword, and imbued his skin with a warm energy. But the air was ever colder, and colder, until he had the beast land, but on the ground it was cold still. So cold the behemoth started shivering, spasms running through its body. Yipion conserved his energy, deeming the creature a dead weight.

And so it died. Frozen to death.

“Death by frost,” Yipion whispered in a strange tone, still not used to speaking.

Death by frost, Yipion knew, was a special kind of spell. A skill only known to great masters of the Arts. It made a spirit lose all its heat through manipulation of the Flux. And then he knew he was in danger. His mystical energy couldn’t stop the spell, but only compensate for the lost heat. As he walked slowly, he realized his doom. The spell was getting stronger and stronger, and even though he was almost unmatched in controlling magic spells, he couldn’t stop it.

Eventually it would come to a battle of endurance. A battle between two great magicians, for who had the most energy to keep their spell running.

And Yipion would lose, for his opponent, more than a spell, had an army.

So he acted fast. He conjured two spirits of power and fire to aid him. The only way to stop the incantation was to find the caster. And he couldn’t be too far.

Yipion felt a sudden burst of energy as the spirits carried him over cliffs and openings in the mountain side. They rushed up the hills, and as they were about to jump over a deep crevice, the voice yelled in Yipions mind:

“There!” it referred to the huge crack in the rock, peering over a deadly fall.

The spirits stopped, and a ball of light filled the huge hole. Inside, a robed figure sat. As the spirits dropped down, it stood up and looked directly at Yipion’s eyes.

“Found you!” Yipion declared.

“No, prince. I found you.”

Yipion - part 3

Being a passionate student of the Flux, Yipion had read nearly every book in the Library, but he had never read about those monsters, or even any semblance of the energy they emitted. A dark, powerful energy that drained the very life essence of those touched by it. Yipion now understood what the voice had always said about the ‘pigs’.

They were not from that World. He had to act.

Looking over the shoulder at the putrid Tomuy, Yipion left and up the mountain he rode. The Black Mountain was one of the biggest peaks of the World. It and its sister, the White Mountain had been crafted by the Eagle, a mighty creature said to have two spirits, one dark and evil, and one kind and good. It liked to sit and watch the mountains, as to please both its sides.

The ground was ashen, as if a big ball of fire had rolled over the hills and scorched the surface. Yipion felt grimmer and grimmer as he rode the steep slopes. Avoiding the roads, he had to leave his horse, unfit for rocky terrain. From then, every step he took was a risk, but with it a cry of hope was shouted.

He saw the enemies in the distance, behind the trees, in their huts and outposts. He realized their evil nature. Creatures conjured for some dark purpose. He could kill them if he wanted, but he knew just who was up there, up the hill. The one he had to kill, and he would need all his might to take upon the master of the Warlords.

For a few days Yipion climbed, and climbed. Until he was found.

Hell broke loose. Battle raged on the hill, as Yipion tried to climb it further and further. The voice helped him, singing powerful enchantments as they ran. Enemies fell and rolled down the mountain. Others attacked their brethren, and rocks loosened from beneath their feet.

“Boy! Another!” the voice yelled inside his mind. It referred to a massive winged creature gliding down the mountain. Its neck was longer than the body, the skull exposed: no eyes, only sockets, its thousand teeth sharp as blades. Up its body lay small towers and nests rid with enemies using long range weapons and attacks. It was a flying fortress. It seemed somehow similar to the ones which attacked Yipion in the tent, with the same kind of scales and limbs full of eyes, teeth and labia. Except this one was bigger, much, much bigger. It could carry ten of the others in its mouth. A true behemoth.

Yipion was perplexed, the sight of the monster terrifying. And so he called upon the spirit Ol-amâ once again, and it heeded.

The beast came flying down on Yipion, but quickly rose again, as if stung by a burning spear. Yipion could only think of the army around him, but the voice was taking care of it with powerful spells. And so Yipion once again called upon Ol-amâ, and this time, he imbued his sword with the spirit’s power. With a giant leap, he landed on the beast’s bone head, and ran up its neck as it tried to shake him off. On his torso stood thousands of enemies, ready for the battle. But the trio decided there was no battle to be had, and with a mighty stomp, Yipion blew the dark soldiers off the behemoth’s back. It was time to end it.

Ol-amâ was once a great magician, which cleansed the minds of the impure, people who thought bad thoughts and wished naughty wishes. He was a protector of the good and on his account the World was countless times saved from itself. He wished no harm to anyone, only to put people’s minds to peace, unite them with nature and the beauty of the World. Now he continued his fight against evil, on a much larger scale. In his time there were no demons or giant aberrations like the one his master stood upon. But he was up to the task.

The power Ol-amâ channelled into the sword was a pure one. One that was crafted to convert evil spirits, and bring them to the light. And so, as Yipion struck the beast right between the shoulders, it poisoned the monster’s body with mystic energy, shutting down its nasty essence.

With the power of Ol-amâ, the beast was dominated, and now controlled by it. Yipion thanked the spirit, but it had its own agenda. To survive, spirits need life force. An energy only living things can provide them. Yipion fell to the floor, weakened. The voice tried to heal him, but it would take months for the prince to recover from such a payment.

What mattered now was that the beast was under their control, namely the voice’s, for it had seized its mind and spirit.

The enemy army fled in fear, and from behind the mountaintops came more behemoths, huge, wings wide spread. They would easily be conquered, and soon the battle would be won. There was only one thing left on Yipion’s mind: Hamut.