Round 2 of the Smackdown. Theme -WAR & ROSES. *You must have a secondary theme of war in your story. *Somewhere in your story, a magical flower must be incorporated. Eight quotes were put forward, of these four had to be chosen for inclusion in the story. These are highlighted in bold.

~

A Mad King's Rage

"There is no escape. We pay for the violence of our ancestors."

As the Feren Elder sat down, his piece said, Caspra thumped the table in frustration and stood to speak. “Dek, there is always an escape, and our ancestors are irrelevant. This situation is due to the Mad King warmongering rather than suing for peace, not our ancestors. They were warlike, but so were the ancestors of the King. The peace was broken by the madness of Calmaraelan and his generals, but we are the ones who are paying…”

Dek shrugged, not bothering to rise to his feet again. “So what is your suggestion nephew?”

“You and the Elders take the people over the mountains, you’ll be safe there, even Calmaraelen in his madness won’t take on the Elves. They will allow you safe passage to the lands beyond the Elven forests. We will provide a diversion and lead the King’s Guard away from the pass for long enough to allow you to get to safety.”

“And who is we? Surely you don’t mean your brother?”

“Jace is a little erratic sometimes, but his magic will come in handy if we’re to provide you with an escape.”

Dek raised an eyebrow. “Erratic? He’s lazy, good for nothing and unproven in battle. He’s a druid of sorts, not a warrior.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s a coward uncle, and he can handle himself if need be, he and I have been fighting together most of our lives.”

“He has never put himself forward, he’s…”

Screams and shouts of warning from outside truncated the conversation and a lieutenant thrust his head through the flaps of the tent.

“Elder Dek, the Mad King’s forces are advancing. We are out of time.”

Dek turned to Caspra. “Do you have your plan ready to set in motion nephew?”

“I do.” Caspra put his hand on his heart, a sign he was in Communion with another, and a few seconds later, Jace entered the tent garbed for battle and carrying Caspra’s axe.

“I was beginning to think you were afraid to fight,” said Dek looking at Caspra’s younger brother, who shrugged and replied.

“I'm just naturally lazy, but I will if I have to, and it's starting to look like we have to."

“I’d say you may well be right.” Dek clasped hands with the two of them. “Your father would be proud. May the Small Gods and the Earth Mother be with you and guide your steps. I will look after your sister, we will see you on the other side of the mountains…”

~

Caspra ducked under a sword blow and slammed his axe into the leg of the horse, watching in grim satisfaction as the patrol leader was crushed by his screaming mount.

“Ready?” Jace shouted at him, and Caspra nodded, dashing back towards his brother.

Their patrol leader down, Jace watched as the rest of King’s Guard closed in on them. A mere hundred yards separated them now, the warriors swiftly closing the gap, feet pounding on the bare dusty earth. Swords raised, they raced to become the ones who took them, the ones who claimed the prize of being the warriors to present their heads to the Calmaraelen and assuage the anger of the Mad King.

Jace stood silent, still, his long dark hair blowing around his face as Caspra skidded to a halt beside him at the entrance to the pass.

As the Guard closed the distance to fifty yards, Jace lifted his arms from his sides and raised them to meet above his head, the palms of his hands coming together with a soft clap. As his arms described the circular movement, a vertical red wall rose behind him. Twenty feet high and blood red, the wall appeared from the ground without sound or warning, and the attackers faltered before roaring their displeasure and racing forwards once more.

Jace sighed and brought his arms down to point at the incoming attackers. He bowed his head, not wanting to see what he was about to unleash, and opened his palms to face them.

The wall behind him exploded in a horizontal sea of blood red rain which streamed around the two brothers to hit the warriors at blistering speed. Screams were choked off as the rain dissolved the men where they stood.

Seconds later, all that remained were a few pocked and warped swords and a stinking red puddle which sank into the ground from whence it had come.

“And now I begin to see why you don’t like fighting. That was awful. Necessary, but I’m sorry I ever doubted you little brother.”

Jace sank to one knee, exhaustion lining his face. “I’m done Cas. I need time to replenish my energy. If we come across any more of the King’s forces now, we’re doomed.”

“Then I think we’re doomed,” said Caspra softly. “Look…”

Jace followed Caspra’s finger and swore under his breath as the dust from a cloud of approaching horsemen stained the clear blue sky.

“What do we do now Cas?”

“We run. The communion you had with Dek said the Elders and the families are safe, so our task is complete. We can still get away if we’re lucky.”

“Lucky is right. It looks like the Mad King has set his entire army to catch us.”

“Well, we are the ones responsible for him not being able to fulfil his promise to the Dark Gods to eradicate the Feren people from the continent, and he will be the one to suffer their wrath.”

“True.” He paused. “Time to run rather than chat perhaps?”

Cas looked again at the fast approaching horsemen and grinned. “Aye. Come on little brother, I can’t take that many down.” His arm supporting the spell depleted Jace, the two of them staggered into the dark maw of the cliff pass.

~

There was a meaty thud, and an arrow embedded itself in the war hound’s shoulder tumbling it to the dusty ground by Caspra’s feet. Caspra ignored the yelping dog and swung his axe into the shoulder of the warrior in front of him, kicking him in the stomach to send him staggering backwards gasping in pain. Screaming his defiance at the patrol of men facing him, he smiled grimly as another arrow from his brother’s bow flew past him to take a bearded warrior in the throat.

“Come on!” he roared. “Call yourselves warriors? You’re nothing but children in a Mad King’s armour.” Cas stood panting in the narrow pass, rocks at his shoulders, his brother behind him. There was barely enough room for three men to stand shoulder to shoulder, and the rising ground behind Caspra gave Jace a clear shot at the advancing kingsmen.

Goaded by his words, two ran forwards. One sank to his knees with an arrow in his gut, the other swung in a sword blow which was blocked with the twin bladed axe. Caspra slammed the haft of the axe into the man’s gut doubling him over, stepped back, and with a roar of triumph decapitated the leather clad hunter with a single blow, the head bouncing to a stop by the feet of the other soldiers with a look of enduring horror etched on his face.

“I’ve only got a couple of arrows left brother,” said Jace under his breath.

“Have you recouped enough power for another spell?” Cas replied, his lips barely moving as he glowered at the hesitant remnants of the patrol who were hanging back out of bowshot range.

“Possibly, but I’ll need to save all the energy I have for when we get to the Gate.”

“The Gate? Shades, is that our only option now? We’d better get a move on then. Bear with me a moment Jace, I’ll buy us a little more room…”

Cas roared and charged down the pass at the remaining four men in the patrol. As three scattered and ran, he cut down a warrior who stood stock still in disbelief, and stood laughing wheezily and trying to catch his breath. After a few moments, he jogged back to his brother who shook his head with a wry smile.

“You are crazy Cas.”

“Aye, but it worked didn’t it?” There was a distant howl from another war hound and he grimaced. “Come on, we haven’t got much time.”

The two of them moved as quickly as they could up the uneven ground of the pass, pressing on with the sound of the hunting dogs following them.

After a few minutes of constant climbing, and with their legs burning from the pace, the two of them burst out of the rocky pass into a shrouded area of shale and shadow. The pass opened into a natural bowl, the only other exit leading back towards the King’s forces. In one wall of the high cliffs surrounding them stood the Gate. Two pillars of blood red stone framed a shimmering portal of silver grey whispering death to all who attempted passage.

“Remember Cas, we have to go through one at a time or the spell won’t work. You go first, I’ll come through next.”

The two moved to the portal and Jace began muttering the words of the spell.

“It’s ready for you Cas.”

The two stood by the portal and embraced. “You did well little brother, father would’ve been proud.”

“Maybe, I’m not sure father was ever particularly proud of me, you were always the warrior, not me.”

“And yet you stood by me all the way despite your fears. Your bow work has improved too since we were children.” Cas grinned. “Right let’s…” Cas lurched into him and gasped in pain. As Jace caught him, he saw the huge black arrow sticking from his back.

“And so die all who oppose me!” roared the Mad King from the top of the cliff nearby.

“No… Oh Gods no.” Jace sank to his knees with Cas in his arms. “Cas?”

“Go little brother, the gate is open.”

“Not without you.” Jace struggled to his feet, hauling his brother up with him; blood from his brother’s fearsome wound staining his clothing and the rocks around them.

“No Jace, go.”

“There is not a man alive who can oppose me!” gloated King Calmaraelan. Jace turned to watch as the King floated down from his perch to land some twenty yards away. “You cannot escape little fish. You may have engineered the escape of your Feren brethren, but you will die in the knowledge you have failed your brother and that I will torture your soul for eternity. For I am the Anointed One, Chosen of the Lady of the Lake. I am the carrier of the Sword of Runes, I am…”

“… loud, obnoxious and windy…” Cas finished for him, gasping for breath as blood dribbled down his chin.

"Strange women lying in ponds distributing swords is no basis for a system of government," added Jace. “You will never win, for there will always be those who oppose you. You are a false king, leader by trickery, deceit and fear.”

“And you are a lost and broken man,” said the King. “Your brother is dying, you have nowhere to go, and your death awaits you at my hands. You have lost little druid, and your words are naught but whispers in the wind.”

“I swear, by the Mother of us all, I will revenge the persecution of the Feren, and if it be her will I die, then I choose my own method of death. You will fall one day, I swear it.” whispered Jace. And, clutching his dying brother tightly to his breast, he stepped through the waiting Gate into the unknown.

~

He opened his eyes to see those of his brother staring back at him from where he lay next to him on the cold grey stone. Unblinking in death, they were soulless and void. Jace reached over and closed them, arranging his brother’s corpse in the position of rest; one hand on his heart to commune with those who had passed before him, one on the grip of his axe to ward of those who would seek to take him into the abyss. “Rest in peace brother, may the Mother look after you and the Small Gods guard your soul.”

“I will look after him little one, fear not. He is a good man and will join those of the Feren who have travelled the long road ahead of him.”

Jace turned and dropped to his knees. The reason he’d been able to see had been due to the soft glow emanating from the figure of the Mother, who had stood by him since he’d woken. Intent on his brother, he had been unaware of her gentle presence.

“Forgive me Earth Mother, had I realised, I…”

“You had other concerns my son; your brother’s needs outweighed anything else, I understand. But now it would appear we have a slight problem. You have made an oath, invoking my name, but by breaking the rules of use of the Gate you have ended not only your brother’s life but your own as well. Only by my will are you still standing here and talking to me now, but even I cannot break the rules of life and death for very long. Your soul must pass over, and your body must be given back to the earth, yet every fibre of your being fights this. Why?”

“I need to avenge the persecution of the Feren. The Mad King is an instrument of darkness, an insult both to the Small Gods, and to you Mother. He needs to die.”

“Why do you want this my son?”

"I just want them to know that they didn't break me."

“And you are willing to pay the price of being the instrument of his death?”

“I am.”

“Then you will die The Death of a Thousand Cuts,” she whispered. A glowing dagger appeared in her hand and she slashed the shining blade across the face of the man kneeling before her, prompting a gasp of pain. “The cursed first cut. You will take a thousand prior to your end. The last few will drop you to your knees, the final blow will end you and the spell will complete itself. Until then you will be immune to virtually any wound. The way the spell completes will depend on your spirit, your will, and the manner of your final death.”

“And this will enable me to kill the Mad King?”

“It may, this too is dependant on your spirit and will. But you will suffer beyond your wildest imaginings.”

“So be it, but if it means my brother did not die in vain, then I will do so. Why are you doing this Mother?”

“Because I too have a family debt to pay. The Mad King tricked my daughter, the Lady of the Lake, into giving him the sword. She fell in love with him and granted him the power of the Rune Sword when it should have gone to another. You provide me with a slim chance of restoring order and peace, and an end to the reign of Calmaraelan and the Dark Gods supporting him.”

The Earth Mother looked at him, sadness marring her perfect features, the glowing blade fading from existence. She held out her hand, a single glowing seed resting in her palm. “When you have no other way forward, place this in the soil at your feet and invoke my name. It will lift you to where you need to be, and will also bring you back to me at the finish should you fail.”

“Thank you Mother.”

~

Jace approached the city of Askra. The White Tower of Calmaraelan rose high above the city, magic sustaining its presence and the madness inside it. A sword strapped to one hip, dagger on the other and a livid red scar defacing the pale corpse skin of his face, he walked onwards: untiring, immutable and focussed on one thing. His clothes were in tatters, a mass of cuts, the fabric barely concealing the scarred and fight battered body beneath. Weeks of travelling had passed in bitter battle with the King’s patrols. None but he had survived.

As he approached the city, a guard challenged him. “Halt and be recognised!”

“No.” Jace slashed his blade across the neck of the guard and walked past the choking body, over the drawbridge and on to the main gate.

As he passed under the massive arch of the gate, a blade slammed into his neck from one side and he stumbled. Turning on one heel, he thrust his sword into the heart of his attacker who sank to his knees, watching in horror as the cut he’d administered healed in front of his eyes, a livid red scar remaining.

Drawing his dagger as well, Jace left behind a trail of bloody destruction as he approached the centre of the town, twin blades weaving a glittering web of terror through the streets as he cut down soldier after soldier. Each cut he received tattered his clothes and added to the spell cursed marks on his dead skin, each cut bringing him closer to his end.

Heading upwards toward the centre of the town, he marvelled at the arrogance of the King. No inner bailey or walls, nothing to stand in his way other than the man’s colossal power.

He reached the base of the shining tower, its white masonry reaching toward the sky above, a window high in the wall the only sign something was there other than the birds.

A whisper of sound made him turn, and a grim faced member of the King’s personal guard approached with a shield and drawn blade.

“You go no further.”

“I’m afraid you cannot stop me Captain.”

“I will die trying.”

“Yes, you will. You are a brave man following a madman Captain. I urge you to leave now and take as many of the townsfolk with you as you can.”

The man swallowed nervously and took a firm grip on his sword. Lunging in, his strike was blocked with a vicious sword stroke which left his guard compromised, he collapsed against the stones of the tower with Jace’s dagger in his eye. Jace watched as the gouge on his arm healed to leave yet another red welt on his skin, and sighed. Sheathing his sword, he reached into his pouch and pulled out the still glowing seed. Using the gory dagger he dug a shallow hole, smoothing the earth over once the seed had been planted. He bowed his head in prayer. “Earth Mother, I need your gentle power.”

Opening his eyes, he saw a green shoot sprout from the soil, the vine coiling rapidly up the stones, anchoring itself to the tower as it went. “Aw come on, you’re not going to make me climb the damn thing are you?” muttered Jace. A branch of the vine leapt sideways from the plant and coiled around his chest, lifting him from the ground and propelling him upwards with the ever growing vine. As the vine reached the window, it loosened and he leapt through the arch into the room beyond, landing on one knee to cushion the impact.

“So, you have come to bow before your King?” Calmaraelan was leaning against the wall of the tower, his dark eyes intent on the young man who stood framed in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“I have come to avenge my brother as I said I would?”

“Interesting, you appear to have sustained a few paper cuts on the way here young man. Your clothing too has seen better days. Would you like me to send for a healer, or maybe even a tailor, or shall we get this over with?”

Jace scraped his sword from its scabbard and hefted his dagger, moving across the room toward the king on wary feet.

Calmaraelan moved away from the tower wall and pulled the Rune Blade from its scabbard at his side, a jewelled dagger from his belt with his other hand. “I admire courage young Feren, but you cannot beat me. No man alive can beat me while I hold the blade given to me by the Lady.”

Jace smiled grimly. “I’m not alive. I died along with my brother when we passed through the Gate together. I’m merely sorting out some unfinished business before I walk the long road. I think we’ve talked enough now.” He swung in a blow which was blocked adroitly by the King, thrust past the swift riposte and stepped back as the Rune Blade nicked the skin of his shoulder, the sigils of the God given blade glowing in the wan light. Ripping the tattered remnants of his jacket from his arm and throwing the rags to the floor, he turned so the king could see the wound.

Calmaraelan stared in amazement as the skin healed itself, and laughed harshly. “Neat spell boy, but you are not truly dead, for you still have hope. Let me see if I can extinguish that for you.”

With a roar, the King launched himself at Jace, blades hacking at his defences as Jace blocked desperately, losing ground in the face of the whirlwind attack. More cuts appeared on his arms, and one in his side. Changing tactics, Jace stepped into a blow meant to gut him and trapped the king’s sword between his ribs. With his weapon caught, Jace parried the incoming dagger blow with his sword, and sank his own dagger into Calamaraelan’s shoulder as the Mad King’s smaller blade spun off into the shadows that lined the chamber.

As Jace staggered backwards, the cut to his side healing in a jagged streak of red, the King screamed in pain and anger. Inchoate with rage, the Mad King lost control and, seizing his sword with both hands, battered at pale man opposing him. Jace parried blow after blow, his face set in concentration, until a mistimed parry sent a blow glancing into his leg.

Driven to the floor by sudden agony, he screamed in pain and the king stepped back, startled at the unaccustomed noise from his previously silent opponent.

“No, not now,” whispered Jace as the Earth Mother’s words came back to haunt him. He levered himself to his feet and was immediately struck down by a massive blow to his leg which left him whimpering on the stone floor of the tower.

“Your protection seems to have worn off little man. I believe now hope is gone, you are truly dead.”

“Mother, help me,” Jace whispered, and a final blow slammed down through his collar bone into his heart.

Calmaraelan screamed his triumph to the heavens. Lifting his sword high in salute to his own greatness, he halted the movement as the wound in his shoulder flared. Ripping the damaged sleeve of his cotton shirt away, he looked on in amazement as the wound healed in mere moments to leave a red scar. All else forgotten, he turned to look at the corpse on the floor. He watched as a thousand scars glowed on Jace’s body, watched as they lifted to flutter around the corpse like claret butterflies. Faster and faster they flew, whirling like a storm, a swarm of ire and madness swirling in the air above his foe, dancing as the curse lifted in death.

Calmaraelan took a step backwards and the fluttering maelstrom stopped, instantly. As he took another hesitant step backwards, the swarm struck and a thousand blades of death ripped into the Mad King, his body convulsing as the echoes of a thousand cuts tore into him. As the Feren corpse turned to dust, a splatter of bloody rain doused the tower, a cursed whirlpool of death rending the king to gore and shards of metal. The Rune Blade hung suspended in the midst of the chaos for a second, the sigils pulsed with energy, and it was gone.

Outside the window, a bud bloomed. A tiny white flower burst into life, its gentle scent perfuming the day. A thousand other flowers followed suit and the scent drifted in through the open window. Pollen followed; a golden cloud of shining magic cleansing the tower of blood and lifting the dust of the fallen Feren druid. The shimmering cloud coalesced and reconstituted into golden human form. The shade of Jace lifted his hands in wonder, looked to the light beyond the arch of the window and stepped out into the sunlight, the scent lifting him onward to the long road beyond.

Flowers closed and seed pods hung heavy. Around the city, the populace fled from the city carrying whatever they could manage, their King’s hold over them broken by his death. The dead eyes of the Captain of the Guard watched uncaring as a million tiny seeds burst and spread to rain down over the city of Askra. The warm sun caressed them into life and fast growing vines covered the masonry. In a final act of nature, and as the last of the refugees streamed from the city, the web of vines around the tower tightened, crushing the stones to dust. As the vine encased tower surrendered to gravity, the reign of the Mad King tumbling with it into leafy obscurity, and a column of golden magic lifted a soul to the sky.

~~~ The End ~~~