It was a small thing that ended it.
Rather, it was a small thing which began the ending. The ring of Goblin Sorcerers was stronger than their opposite numbers, the Council of the Magi of Light. As they chanted and swayed, their minds moving through the twisting passageways of magic, unveiled to them by the noxious smoke of the lurga weed, they found the opening, and a decurion of the second legion turned, sliding his gladius smoothly under the third rib of his legate. The legate did not gasp, nor cry out; she simply died.
The Goblin Horde found the weakness in the legion. They broke through, rolled up the left flank. The corrupted decurion outlived his legate by no more than a quarter hour. There was a moment, at the hill on which the command group stood, when things might yet have turned in favor of the forces of Light. The Champion of the Great God stood his ground, his sword glowing with holy power.
But the Horde reached the circle of Magi, and tore them down. The ring of Sorcerers, freed of the obligation of countering the magics of light, bent their eldrich forces on the hill, and summoned fiends. Outnumbered, outfought, the Champion of the Great God fell, and his body was violated by the fiends, opened to their dark force, made the fulcrum which levered open the Final Seal.
The Unseen Gate opened, and the Lady of Darkness stepped forward. Her terrible beauty swept the land, driving the last of the forces of Light mad, causing them to fall on each other in violent paroxysm of unslated, unspeakable feuds and desires and unrequited lusts. The Goblins looked on her, and were no less affected. Soon, they, too, lay dead in pools of blood and urine and semen.
The Lady of Darkness, surrounded now only by the fiends which had been summoned, and those which had poured through the Unseen Gate behind her when it opened, smiled. "Go forth," she whispered to the fiends, and they took her command gleefully, spreading destruction until all things were unmade.
There, in the no-place which had been the Plain of the Final Battle, the Light Blossomed, and the Great God stood forth, released from his promise not to personally interfere until the bounds of the world were undone. "Well played," he said, smiling, and he reached forth his hand. The Lady of Darkness took it, and drew him in, and they kissed for an eternity, centuries of unspoken words flowing between them.
When at last they spoke again, the Lady of Darkness said, "I thought you had beaten me in the Seventh Century. Your prophet was quite effective."
"Not effective enough to stop the feuding between Men and Goblins," the Great God admitted, ruefully.
"I have some thoughts on that," the Lady said, beginning to take on an aspect of Light, her terrible beauty subtly altering to glorious radiance. "Shall we play again? I'll take Light this time, and you can be Darkness."
"Later," he said. "Later." And for a time more, there was no need for words between them.
Rather, it was a small thing which began the ending. The ring of Goblin Sorcerers was stronger than their opposite numbers, the Council of the Magi of Light. As they chanted and swayed, their minds moving through the twisting passageways of magic, unveiled to them by the noxious smoke of the lurga weed, they found the opening, and a decurion of the second legion turned, sliding his gladius smoothly under the third rib of his legate. The legate did not gasp, nor cry out; she simply died.
The Goblin Horde found the weakness in the legion. They broke through, rolled up the left flank. The corrupted decurion outlived his legate by no more than a quarter hour. There was a moment, at the hill on which the command group stood, when things might yet have turned in favor of the forces of Light. The Champion of the Great God stood his ground, his sword glowing with holy power.
But the Horde reached the circle of Magi, and tore them down. The ring of Sorcerers, freed of the obligation of countering the magics of light, bent their eldrich forces on the hill, and summoned fiends. Outnumbered, outfought, the Champion of the Great God fell, and his body was violated by the fiends, opened to their dark force, made the fulcrum which levered open the Final Seal.
The Unseen Gate opened, and the Lady of Darkness stepped forward. Her terrible beauty swept the land, driving the last of the forces of Light mad, causing them to fall on each other in violent paroxysm of unslated, unspeakable feuds and desires and unrequited lusts. The Goblins looked on her, and were no less affected. Soon, they, too, lay dead in pools of blood and urine and semen.
The Lady of Darkness, surrounded now only by the fiends which had been summoned, and those which had poured through the Unseen Gate behind her when it opened, smiled. "Go forth," she whispered to the fiends, and they took her command gleefully, spreading destruction until all things were unmade.
There, in the no-place which had been the Plain of the Final Battle, the Light Blossomed, and the Great God stood forth, released from his promise not to personally interfere until the bounds of the world were undone. "Well played," he said, smiling, and he reached forth his hand. The Lady of Darkness took it, and drew him in, and they kissed for an eternity, centuries of unspoken words flowing between them.
When at last they spoke again, the Lady of Darkness said, "I thought you had beaten me in the Seventh Century. Your prophet was quite effective."
"Not effective enough to stop the feuding between Men and Goblins," the Great God admitted, ruefully.
"I have some thoughts on that," the Lady said, beginning to take on an aspect of Light, her terrible beauty subtly altering to glorious radiance. "Shall we play again? I'll take Light this time, and you can be Darkness."
"Later," he said. "Later." And for a time more, there was no need for words between them.
