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   Chapter 19 No.19

The Adventures of Larson and Garrett - A People Defiled By AaronDennis Characters: 5448

Updated: 2018-01-08 12:03


"I'm killing you. I'm killing you, Parish! I am Larson Ross, son of Mathew Ross, Crusader of Akalabash! Let my name ring through your ears for all eternity!"

"Mortal!" Parish gurgled. "You think you've won? You think you can kill me? I am forever. I am the darkness. I bear destruction, " he choked and wretched for more words. "You…know…nothing, " he coughed as blood smeared the stone behind his head. Larson watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he continued to wrangle the life out of Parish. "The…Lagos…power of…of the artifacts!"

"Shut up! Enough! Enough! You've killed too many. You'll kill no more, you hateful bastard!"

The Dark One choked, and gurgled, and clawed at Larson's face, his eyes, his mouth, but the warrior was a man possessed, possessed by Akalabash, and he smashed Parish's head into the stone until there was nothing left but brain goo, quickly washed away by the rain. Crying, heaving, and panting under the radiance of hellfires, Larson was unable to pull his hands from the man's limp body, but his strength waned, and exhaustion gripped him. Lowering his head into the corpse's chest, he felt the weight of his friends lifting him away, and then blackness enveloped the warrior.

****

An intense light wracked the eyes. Grunting and trying to turn away, Larson found no reprieve from the glare, but after a moment, it subsided into a soft, reddish shimmer. He then opened his eyes to find a glaring sun high in a blue sky filled with puffy, white clouds. Larson sat up to see a charred room.

"Easy, " someone said.

He turned to see Mathew. The detective was wearing scorch

ike this when he left."

"How did he know to come, " Larson asked, almost absent mindedly.

"I told him to fly here right after he finished with Owens. Griffins are speedy creatures, you know?"

Larson managed a weak smile. "Good thing he did. We would not have…won without their aid."

"I don't know anymore. With your display, I'm inclined to believe you might've achieved victory all by yourself, " Mathew frowned.

Larson shrugged involuntarily. He did not believe he had done anything special, yet the images that flashed before his mind's eye were those of dismantling the deathknight, mutilating Parish, yet concern for his friends took prevalence.

"Charlotte, " he trailed off.

"She's fine. The potion I gave Lyalla healed her up, though that magickal dagger Parish casted was a dangerous weapon…but hey, apart from the citizens, everyone came out alright, " Mathew commented.

"That's, " Larson heaved a sigh, sat on the fountain edge, and folded his arms while looking at his boots. The rain had washed off most of the filth. "That's good. That's something."

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