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THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: The final battle.

"THE INNER LIGHT" chapter 12

by Eric R. Umali

"Darkness"

They entered the massive main throne chamber at the same time. The doors opened into the short wall of the rectangular room, opposite the throne, so that they would have a proper sense of awe at the scope of the room. Seeing each other, they rushed together, embracing.

"How touching," said a rasping voice from the other end of the gigantic chamber. "Reunited at last."

The heroes whirled. Huge open torches flared to life at either side of the throne, both lighting it and casting moving shadows across it. Before the throne stood their destiny.

While Jonathor and Jessamyn were being trained and prepared for their quest, Jeremiah Surd was busy as well. He amassed all the wealth, all the political power, and most importantly, all the dark magickal might he could. He stood in front of the throne, in a mockingly pseudo-heroic pose, fists on hips. He was clad in black armor that seemed to draw light into it instead of reflect it away. An ebony cloak fell over his shoulders and to the floor, pinned under long black hair. Surd sneered at them.

"So, you two... heroes," the word came out as a forced hiss, "have come to vanquish the evil wizard, eh?"

Hand in hand, Jessamyn and Jonathor approached the magician.

"Are you enjoying my little game?" Surd asked. "Tell me, how long did it take you to forget yourselves?"

"You speak in riddles, wizard," said Jessamyn. "But it does not matter. Today, you fall."

"Very brave, young _Bannon_." Surd laced the last word with venom. Jessamyn stopped in her tracks, her mind awhirl. "And you, little _Quest_." Jonathor shut his eyes, trying to keep the confusion at bay. With those words, Surd's subtle spell clouded their minds with a rush of memories from their long-forgotten lives.

Surd laughed at the bewildered heroes. Nonchalantly, he drew his sinister black sword from its scabbard and approached the young warriors. Taking time to brace himself, he held the sword ready, and swung at the helpless heroes, ready to cut them to pieces. In mock disgust at the action, Surd closed his eyes as he did it.

CLANG!!

Surd opened his eyes, only to stare at the glittering sapphire blue in Jonathor's gaze as he held his soulsword to parry the wizard's strike.

"We've beaten you before, Surd," the warrior whispered, "and we will do it again."

From behind Jonathor, Jessamyn's hands glowed bright as she brought her power to bear on the wizard, shoving him away with a flash of light. They circled the stunned Surd, putting him between them.

The wizard's body shook. Bolts of red lightning coruscated around him as he leapt to his feet and struck out at Jonathor with his sword. The young swordsman deflected the blow, and the duel began in earnest. Steel rang against steel as they matched strike for strike.

Jessamyn followed the action, searching for an opening to make her own attack when she was struck by a sudden pain in her head. Clearing her senses, she reached out with her power only to find Surd launching a magickal attack at the same time. Letting go of her physical form, the might of the young sorceress was unleashed on another plane.

**********

They stepped into and out of the slashes of flickering firelight and deep shadow.

At the warrior's enclave, Jonathor had been tutored in the art of war by teachers from all over the world. Within his mind lay the collected knowledge culled from the Earth's greatest warriors, ready at a moment's notice. He brought this all to bear on Surd as they fought. Now he would use a slashing movement from the far East, then a parry from the Indies, and a counter from the North. He used his fists and his feet and every weapon at his disposal, all the time thinking, planning, predicting.

All without use. Surd knew the young man was off, his mind confused by the submerged memories of his former self. The attacks were brilliant and unexpected, but just off enough to allow Surd to deflect it all. Soon, he knew, soon the boy would tire and Surd would have him.

**********

Jessamyn, too had been instructed and shaped by the best. Every practice of white magic was at her disposal. She could call on the might of all the elements, blasting Surd's projection with searing fire, deluging it with rushing water, burying it under tons of earth and hurling raging winds. She drew the light of the sun into her and let him have it all. She unleashed every weapon in her unparalleled arsenal at him.

She was losing. The images of a life barely remembered but never lost pressed against her sight, insistent on being recognized. She could not concentrate enough to make her attacks as powerful or as focused as they could have been. Had her mind been clear, her might was irresistible, and Surd knew it. He laughed at her confusion, and waited for her to weaken so he could move in for the kill.

**********

Jonathor's shoulders and elbows ached. The muscles in his arms screamed in pain. Still, he hammered away at Surd, ignoring it. The soulsword's light flashed again and again, the fiery trails creating patterns in the air. But the light was dimming.

**********

Jessamyn's projected form glowed brightly, surrounded by the strange swirling colors of the magickal plane she was fighting in. The power flowing into her was ebbing, but she lashed out with even more resolve. She felt the wizard's darkness closing in on her.

**********

The wizard's sword cracked the stone floor, in the spot where Jonathor had been crouching a second before. He brought the soulsword up and deflected the second attack. The gleaming sword twirled as he swung back at Surd, who was just able to block it. The wizard's booted foot whipped out, catching Jonathor on the chin, sending him sprawling to the ground. The soulsword clattered beside him, out of reach.

**********

Jessamyn gathered her strength and cast a powerful spell. Tendrils of light, hundreds of them, sprang from her projected form and surrounded Surd. He struggled with them, thrashing in the sorceress' grasp. She took a breath as the bonds held. For a moment. The wizard broke free, the bands of light shredding, sending shards in all directions. Jessamyn bore the brunt of the explosion.

Her body had been standing to the side, and now it slumped in place, collapsing.

**********

Coming to his feet, Jonathor saw Jessamyn fall.

"NOOO!!"

Knowing it had been Surd's doing, he lunged for his soulsword, not for her. As his finger tips brushed its hilt, Surd struck.

**********

Jessamyn opened her eyes and saw shadows. They sharpened until she could make out the wizard standing over a fallen Jonathor. Her eyes came into focus, and she screamed in horror.

**********

Jonathor tried to turn to face Surd, but could not.

**********

Benton, Race, and Hadji stared at the screen, unable to tear their eyes away from the sight.

***********

Surd pushed down on the pommel of his sinister black blade, driving it deeper through Jonathor's body. The young warrior coughed, the searing pain not yet real. Surd crouched and lifted the young warrior off the ground, still impaled on the sword. He bellowed in triumph.

Jonathor's eyes dimmed, and his body went slack. Surd swung the sword away, and the body fell heavily to the ground away from him, limbs spread, the sightless eyes staring into the darkness. Jessamyn rushed to him, cradling Jonathor in her arms and feeling the cold darkness closing in around them.

Surd backed away, savoring the sight of the broken heroes. He readied the final death stroke.

TO BE CONCLUDED...