The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

Leo stood on the parapet, glaring down at the army. Next to him was a guard who was clearly not in charge of anything besides watching their approach. "Do you want me to talk to them first, or just smite them from here?" he asked. "I-I don't know, sir," the guard stammered. "I haven't received any orders." Leo sighed. "Talking it is," he said, and jumped off the wall. He couldn't exactly fly, but he could jump far enough to give the effect. He landed in front the advance scouts, amplified his voice and shouted. "Michael Alden! Come out and face me!" There was a general reshuffling of the army, and a very tall, very broad man in dark black armor stepped to the front. "And who might you be, worm?" Leo squinted up at him. "I'm looking for the prince. The lost prince. The heir to the witch-throne." "That would be me." "You're...not Michael." "I'm the heir to the throne. I don't know who you're talking about. Now either tell me what you want, or get out of my way. I have a siege to plan." "Fine," Leo said. "I'm here to blow your army up. Wanna talk first or should we get straight to the smiting?" Fire rained out of the sky. Leo threw up his arms and hit the ground. Soldiers closed in around him. He waited for the bombardment to stop, but it didn't. Was this a setup? Did they have another sorcerer? It was hard to hold up his shield and move, but he needed distance if he was going to launch a counter attack. A fireball crashed directly into him, and his defenses wavered. He smelled smoke. The smart thing was to return to the wall. The smart thing would have been to never get down from the wall. Why had he come down to talk in the first place? Oh. Right. He couldn't hold up his shield and summon lightning at the same time. He was going to have to risk the fireballs. He chanced a glance behind him to try and see where they were coming from. Another one hit him square on. Leo hit the ground, his shield fizzling out. He looked for cover, but on the road leading up to the city there was nothing but open hillside. He reached for lightning, hoping the accompanying rain and cloud cover might at least inconvenience whoever had, apparently, unlimited access to a magma vein in the earth's crust. The lightning came. The invading army screamed and died. The fireballs didn't stop. Leo rolled away from one that got uncomfortably close, batting at the flames in his coat. He called more lightning. More soldiers died. More fire. More lightning. More death. Leo started to feel the edges of his concentration fray. There were dark spots in his vision. Was it his imagination, or was the army the same size now as it was when he first saw it from the city wall? More lightning. The tips of his fingers were turning black and singed. He arranged his shield, and began a slow retreat back to the city walls. A defense had been mounted, but there wasn't much that ordinary soldiers could do against fire raining from the sky. His back hit up against the wooden gates. He raised one hand to pound against them, but wasn't surprised when no one answered. The overhang protected him from the worst of the brimstone. He let his shield drop. Getting back inside the walls wouldn't help much, he expected it was equally bad inside as it was outside. But if he could make it to the old palace, maybe he could hold off the invaders until the druids had time to destroy the crown. That would count for something. Maybe. He hoped. Before he could formulate a plan to get to the other side of the walls, the issue was resolved by the entire gate collapsing on top of him. ** Leo woke to a world turned gray with ash. He pulled himself out of the rubble, his ears ringing. People were screaming and running, but he saw them through the fog as distant shadows. Now, there was something he had to do. What was it? A fireball crashed into the rubble beside him, making a crater and causing him to lose his balance. Right. That. He got his bearings, and began to run. The palace was sealed, of course. He was panting by the time he reached it, and beginning to panic. He had already overextended himself outside the wall, then had a wall fall on him, and the real fight hadn't even begun. He leaned against the door to steady himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then another. He gathered power around him like a cloak and stepped into shadow. He stepped out in front of the door to the inner council chamber. The druids were still at work, focused over the witch-crown. He didn't dare disturb them. He didn't know where the rest of Parliament had holed up, but he also didn't care. Making sure the crown was destroyed was the only thing that mattered. He sat down with his back to the door to rest while he waited. He didn't have long. Pounding footsteps alerted him just in time to drag himself to his feet before a dozen soldiers in spike-studded armor rounded the corner and screeched to a halt in front of him. He killed them with a flick of his fingers. More charged in. Then more. and more. The bodies piled up so high that the newcomers had to climb over a barricade of their own dead to reach him. And yet they didn't stop. Who the hell were these people? He was almost at his limit. His vision was blurry, and he felt each bolt of lightning flash through his own body first before hitting his targets. He sat down in front of the door, and switched to fireballs. They were easier, but only by a little. At least they tended to last longer, and maybe they would do something about the dead. Smoke filled the corridor, and the smell of charred flesh. And still the soldiers came. Why? They couldn't even get close enough to touch him. None of them were archers. He slumped back against the wall. His shoulders burned with the effort. He closed his eyes, used his knees to brace his wrists, and sent out a solid wall of fire. He held it for as long as he could before letting it drop. Exhausted, he opened his eyes. The corridor was clear. No soldiers, no bodies. He dropped his head to his knees. Pounding footsteps. This still wasn't over. Leo used the wall to haul himself to his feet. He used a burst of magic to dry his cloak and send it billowing around him in his best dramatic, dangerous sorcerer fashion. Adding just enough amplification to his voice to sound terrifying he bellowed down the corridor: "Who are you and what. do. you. want?" The footsteps paused. Then resumed, more slowly. Michael Alden poked his head around the corner. "Leo?" he said, his voice bright and false. "What are you doing here?"