[The Wizard's Keep]- Part Eight
**Author's note: Back from a long Hiatus. I apologize to those that were looking forward to updates, life has been especially rough as of late but thank you so much for reading these chapters. It means a lot to see people interested in my world, and I hope to one day edit and publish this work. Enjoy guys!**
[Part One](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/djc653/the_wizards_keep_part_one/)|[Part Seven](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/e76udb/the_wizards_keep_part_seven/)
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Crassus lurked through the shadows of the jungle, determination creasing his brow. The magic knight was close. His aura blazed like a beacon amidst the tangle of trunks and branches. Once, he would have charged the knight without fear, trusty axe in hand. Things were different now. Now, he had something to lose.
It had pained him to send Eralia back with the others, but he had no choice. She had protested of course, her fiery dedication evident in her voice, but he couldn’t risk losing her. Even if it meant losing the war that was starting to brew.
He pressed his hand against the moist dirt, channeling the ether through his fingertips. The energy coursed through his arm, and deep into the earth. The roots began to writhe as an axe emerged from the ground. Brothomir was a beast of an axe, jagged metal intertwined with magically petrified wood. He clasped both hands around the axe, hoping to draw strength.
“Never took you for a little rat, Crassus,” said a voice. Crassus turned to see the magic knight staring right at him. The illusion dissipated in a cloud of green.
“Never took you for an evil son of a bitch, Runt.”
Runt was six and a half feet of pure muscle, hair blacker than the darkest pit of hells. He donned golden armor, intricate designs etched along the plates. Runes trailed behind Runt as he took a step forward. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Come now, old friend. Would you not rather sit by the fire and discuss this over wine?” He gestured to the flask he kept holstered in a bag on his hip. “It would be splendid to hear another story from *the* Crassus DarkOak.
“I doubt you’ve missed me all that much,” said Crassus. He tightened his grip on the axe. Runt noticed, smile deepening.
“Why don’t you put that down. How is Eralia? Is she around?”
Tendrils of fear tightened in his chest. This is a man he had seen kill with the same smile cut across his features. They had almost been friends once. Before he had seen him stomp the life out of a little boy. He prayed Eralia was safe, far away from the island. Everything rested on the boy. He just needed to buy him some time.
“Keep her name out of your mouth, you goddamn bastard,” said Crassus, veins visible as he drew in power.
“My my, and here I thought you had lost your spine running off with that woman. Was it not you that said attachments are weakness? To fuck, but to never make love? Hard to believe I’m standing with the same man.” Runt put the flask to his lips, and tilted his head back. Red wine began to dribble from the corner of his lips. He smiled, baring his teeth like a wolf fresh from the hunt.
Crassus had made many mistakes as a young man. Armed with his axe and his armor, he was a maelstrom of violence, pummeling any that defied his lord. That was before he had met Eralia, a light in his sea of darkness. He squared his shoulders and cracked his neck.
“How long has it been? And still nothing’s changed. You’re still the poor orphan we found sucking at the teat of his dead mother’s breast. You’re still a runt.”
Sudden, monstrous rage bubbled in Runt. His eyes burned with intense amber light, and Crassus felt the air around him grow hot.
“Once I kill you, I’ll find Eralia and I’ll snap her neck. Then I’m going after the boy. I’ll tell them how you failed them at the end.”
Crassus charged forward, and the trees seem to come alive. Roots erupted from the ground at Runt’ feet. They wrapped around him, tightening around his neck and arms. Crassus heaved the giant axe, and brought it down in one fell swoop.
Runt roared, amber energy bursting from his body in a huge shockwave. The roots recoiled from the sudden force, and Crassus was blown back. When did he get so powerful?
As Runt rushed towards Crassus, the impact left craters on the ground.
Before Crassus could react, Runt’s fist slammed into his face. He went reeling back, tumbling into a nearby tree. The force knocked the wind out of Crassus. Tears blurred his vision. He pinched his broken nose, cracking it back into place. How had he let himself get so weak. Maybe Runt was right, he had lost his edge.
His axe lay a few paces to his right. Runt and Crassus stared at the fallen axe, then locked eyes. Crassus leapt for the weapon even as Runt closed the gap with inhuman speed. Runt grabbed Crassus by the throat, kicking the weapon into a nearby bush.
“This is how you put up a fight?” asked Runt. “You have bored me. I think I’ll enjoy killing you with my bare hands.”
Crassus struggled for breath as Runt squeezed his throat shut. His feet dangled uselessly as he was lifted from the ground, like little more than a child. Runt slammed Crassus down on the ground, then began to mercilessly hammer down on the smaller man.
Each blow felt like a bludgeon, cracking across his ribs, his face. His left eye began to swell shut as Runt swung a meaty fist. Blood dribbled down his mouth, a gash across the forehead. There was nothing Crassus could do. His body exploded with agony as Crassus’s pitiful attempts to protect his face were swept aside.
“Look at you now, Crassus DarkOak. Crassus the Breaker. Crassus the broken.” The smile that had returned to Runt’s face during the beating, became a maniacal grin. He pulled a knife from the pouch on his side. It was a butcher’s knife, the blade sharp despite the worn wood handle. “I’ll need a souvenir for this, otherwise the boys back home would never believe me. You understand old friend? Now let me see that ear.”
“Stay away from my husband!” yelled a voice. Eralia was back. Suddenly, his mind snapped back into focus. She shouldn’t be here right now. What was she thinking?
Runt turned in time to see Brothomir come crashing down on his head. He jumped back, barely avoiding dismemberment. Pure fury blazed in Eralia’s eyes. The tiny woman wielded an axe too large for her frame. Runt stood over a foot taller than she did, and weighed three times as much.
Runt examined his bloody knuckles, then bowed. “I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted, my lady. My name is Runt. Crassus never mentioned you were such a delectable looking thing.” His casual tone suggested they were in a parlor, and not in the middle of a jungle with a man bleeding a few paces away.
Eralia gave runt a look of disgust, then spit on the ground near his feet. “I am no lady. Now stay away from my husband,” said Eralia.
Crassus struggled to move. His chest ached, breath coming out in wheezing gasps. His ribs must be broken.
Orange aura gave its users remarkable strength and speed. Runt would catch them if they ran, kill them if they fought. And he could barely stand.
“You need to run, Eralia. I’ll hold him off,” said Crassus through gritted teeth. He was prepared to lose his life, but he couldn’t lose her. He knew what he needed to do.
“I’m not leaving you here with this monster,” said Eralia. She tossed Brothomir to Crassus, who caught it with a deft hand despite his injuries. From her side, she unsheathed a sword as sharp and slender as she was. “If we die, we do it together.”
Eralia was brimming with determination, dirt caked her hair and face, and her eyes had the rabid intensity of a crazed beast. It was feral, all animal instinct, and she had never looked more beautiful.
“Why isn’t this touching,” said Runt with a sardonic smile. “Let’s make a deal. Tell me where the boy is and I’ll let one of you go.”
“Go to hell,” spat Crassus, as bloody spittle dribbled down his busted lip. There was one final gambit, one last trump card Crassus could play. He channeled all the ether his body could absorb. Crassus felt his skin grow hot under the strain of holding so much magic.
Roots began to wrap around Crassus, cocooning him. Green light pulsed beneath the roots and Crassus felt his ribs meld back together, broken skin slowly reknitting itself. The intense glow blinded Runt and Eralia. There was no going back now. Everyone with the slightest magical talent will know where they were. The roots fell away to reveal Crassus, donning armor made of ebony wood. Runes seemed to rise from the armor, spells of protection and strength. Crassus DarkOak returned. Runt’s smile gave way to fear.