The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

Leo froze. "I'm hallucinating," he said finally. "I pushed myself too far and now I'm seeing shit that isn't there." "It's me," Michael said. "You're fine. We just need to get the crown and get out of here." "No," Leo said. "No, I was looking for you and there was some other guy. He was big. Really big. He said he was the heir." "We can talk about this later," Michael said soothingly. He held both hands out and approached him slowly. "Let me get you out of here. Do you still have the crown?" "No," Leo shook his head. "This isn't right. Something isn't adding up. You shouldn't be here. Or if you are here, you should have been here earlier. But you weren't here earlier so you shouldn't be here now. Or...something. Who are you?" "I'm Michael," Michael said, kneeling down in front of him. When had he ended up on the ground? He was supposed to be making a stand. A final stand. For...something. Michael reached out to him, his hand cupping his face. Leo leaned into it. "Let me get you out of here," Michael said. "Then I can explain." Leo pushing him away, struggling to climb to his feet. "No, this is wrong. Something is wrong." "Let me help," Michael coaxed. His face was drawn and worried. "You don't look well, Leo. How long have you been fighting for?" Leo dragged his hands over his face. "I don't...I don't know. What time is it?" Michael reached out for him and caught his hands. "Let me help you, please." "N-no. No. You left me. You stole the crown and you left me. I don't know what game you're playing but I can't...I can't..." Leo shoved him away. "I didn't want to," Michael protested. "Please, believe me. I would have come back. I did come back." "Because you want something. You want the crown." Michael took a step back, his face going still and remote. "Leo," he said, carefully controlled. "Open the door." "No." "Why not?" Leo leaned against the door and reached for whatever was left of his magic. He threw a fireball too small to boil a cup of tea. Michael dodged it easily. "Leo," Michael tried again, reaching for his sword. "Please, I don't want to fight you." So he couldn't use magic. Ok. He had a sword somewhere, didn't he? He remembered putting it on in the council chamber earlier today, a lifetime ago. He reached for it, briefly tangling the hilt in his cloak. He reached for the clasp on the cloak instead. He felt like he was trying to move while chained underwater and heavily drunk. Finally he got his sword free, the cloak fell to the floor and Michael, for some reason, was still waiting. He didn't wait for pleasantries. He struck out blindly. Michael parried, easily. It wasn't a sword fight as much as it was Leo stumbling over his own feet, struggling to find the strength to even hold his blade out, while Michael watched in amusement and pretended to play along. Leo planted his back firmly against the door and focused on holding the sword in front of him, twitching any time Michael tried to get close. "I really do need you to get out of the way," Michael said. "No." "I don't want to hurt you." Fire flared briefly along the blade, but it fizzled almost immediately. "But I have to get through that door," Michael said. Leo didn't move. Michael lashed out with sudden speed, and in the blink of an eye, Leo's sword was gone, clattering across the stone floor. The tip of Michael's sword rested at his throat. "Move." He lifted his chin. "No." Lightning flared in his palms and he pushed it out, hitting Michael square in the chest. He stumbled backwards, his eyes filled with surprise and pain. He brought his sword up and hit Leo across the face with the flat of the blade. Leo blinked away red. He reached for more power but the edges of his consciousness were fraying. The black void yawned open, welcoming...but the door was real and solid at his back and he straightened up and light blared from his hands. Michael staggered back with a shouted curse. Leo crumpled to the floor, dimly feeling pain rising like a tide to engulf him. Then a boot connected with his ribs. Leo covered his head with his arms. The door loomed solid behind him. "Why. don't. you. just. give. up?" A kick for every word, each one increasing in intensity. Leo reached for fire. It flared briefly, then went out. Michael reached out for the door and he reached up to stop him. He reached for power he really, really shouldn't be trying to use right now. It wasn't much, but when his fingers closed around Michael's wrist, the other man yelped and yanked his arm back. "Just stop!" Michael screamed at him. "Stop fighting me before you kill yourself!" In answer, Leo lunged at him, light crackling between his fingers. Michael caught his wrist and twisted. His other hand came up and connected with his left ear. Leo dropped to the floor, whimpering. The door. He had to get back to the door. Michael stepped over him, and he tried to twist around, to trip him, but missed dismally. Behind him he heard the crisp sound of three short knocks and began to laugh. Michael paused, looking back at him. "What on earth is so funny?" he demanded. Leo couldn't stop laughing. Everything hurt. He didn't know exactly where magic came from, but he suspected that he had burnt out some important, internal part of himself and it might never grow back. Michael shook his head in disgust and opened the door. Inside stood a circle of druids in their white, hooded cloaks. They looked up when the door opened, and drew back to reveal what was at the center of their focus. A ring of ash lay on the ground, all that remained of the witch-crown. The last thing Leo heard was Michael's anguished cry of despair, and then everything went black.