DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (320 page)

And all the while, he countered with Hawkwing, sliding his hands down low on one end to swing it like a club, or moving the lead hand up suddenly and thrusting forward.

On one such thrust, Aydrian stopped suddenly, slid his hand back, and pivoted about, launching a wide and strong swing that had Midalis caught flat-footed. The prince gave a cry and fell away, but got clipped on the shoulder and had to tumble
down, his sword skidding from his grasp.

Aydrian didn’t pursue, but turned fast on Andacanavar.

“Your time is past, old man,” he said, and he went in hard.

The barbarian started a sidelong slash, but stopped cunningly and reversed his strength, stabbing straight ahead instead.

But Aydrian was already gone, spinning to the side around the blade. He brought Hawkwing across hard, smashing the man’s elbows, then retracted and slid his hands apart, stabbing the man hard in the side.

The barbarian ranger’s backhand slash almost had Aydrian then, but he went down low and moved across under the slashing blade. Hawkwing took Andacanavar on the inside of the knee, driving his leg out wide and stealing his balance.

Aydrian reversed and stabbed up with the staff, catching the ranger in the groin and lifting him up on his toes. Andacanavar roared and punched down hard, but Aydrian was already moving, diving forward between his legs.

As soon as the young king got his feet under him, he cut back the other way, rushing back behind Andacanavar as the barbarian turned about, his great sword leading.

Now one clean step ahead of his opponent, Aydrian brought Hawkwing across with all his strength, and heard the crunch of bone as the hard wood connected on Andacanavar’s skull.

The barbarian spun, and continued spinning, all the way to the floor, blood spilling from his ears.

Figuring the man already dead, Aydrian went in anyway, but had to pull up short and spin back at the attacking Midalis. The prince, off balance, his sword not even securely back in his grasp, stumbled by and took a solid hit.

Midalis tried to turn as he hit the floor, but Aydrian was there, his leg solidly placed to hold the prince awkwardly, and helpless.

Prince Midalis looked up to realize his doom, the specter of Aydrian, Hawkwing high before him.

And so it ends
, Midalis thought.

A
cross the way, Elbryan’s swordplay with Brynn took on a new dimension as Bradwarden joined the fray, the ferocious and powerful centaur sweeping his heavy club to and fro with wild abandon.

“We’ll get this one, lassie!” the centaur promised. His club went past the retreating specter, who then reversed his footing and charged in through the opening.

But then Brynn was there, intercepting Elbryan’s sword and forcing him to back away quickly as Bradwarden’s backhand nearly caught up to him.

“Ah, but we’re a fine team!” the centaur roared, although Brynn, of course, couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

With his typical lack of finesse, Bradwarden leaped ahead and gave a roar, and Elbryan came forward as well, spinning to the side.

Bradwarden tried to turn to keep up with the quick ranger, but his hooves skidded
on the blood-slicked floor. He tried to scramble to hold his balance, but futilely, and his back legs went out from under him and down he went.

“I breaked me leg!” he howled soon after the snap of bone echoed through the room, and then another equine form came charging through, inadvertently clipping the centaur and sending him skidding and spinning away.

That charging horse staggered Elbryan and Brynn back, as well, cutting directly between them. The reprieve didn’t last for long for the Dragon of To-gai, though, for the specter of Nightbird was right back at her, pressing his attack even more furiously.

Determined to face death boldly, Prince Midalis glared up at young Aydrian. “Never will you be king,” he said.

Aydrian brought Hawkwing down.

Or started to, until Symphony charged into him, knocking him to the floor.

Prince Midalis recovered his wits quickly and went for his sword. Aydrian, too, rolled right back to his feet. He held his hematite out toward the great stallion even as Symphony started to turn to charge again, and sent a wave of dominating willpower at the horse, filtering it through the magical turquoise set in Symphony’s breast.

Aydrian found that he couldn’t so easily dominate Symphony as he once had, but he had the beast stalled, at least, kicking and bucking and throwing its head in protest.

Aydrian was ready for Midalis as the man stubbornly came at him again. He blocked a pair of weak attacks, and thrust his staff hard into the prince’s belly, taking his breath and sending him stumbling backward, clutching at his midsection.

“It would have been so much easier and cleaner if the horse hadn’t come in,” Aydrian remarked, and he stalked in for the kill.

I
n her rage, it was as if the energy of her youth had returned in full. Pony fought with fury, stabbing Defender all about De’Unnero to keep him off balance and constantly backing. Every time the monk tried to counter, Defender was there, stabbing hard and forcing him aside, and, every so often, Pony hit him with a lightning bolt, a minor sting to be sure. But these nicks and stings were starting to take their toll on the battered De’Unnero.

And so he gathered up his strength and came at her hard and desperately, knowing that time was not on his side.

But Pony knew that, too, so she was not taken by surprise as De’Unnero leaped forward over her extended sword, pouncing for her head.

She smashed him with a lightning bolt, the force of it catching him in his descent and holding him aloft for just a moment—long enough for the woman to bring her sword above her!

Defender slid in under the descending monk’s ribs, up into a lung.

Pony spun out from under him, guiding him to the side with her blade. She pulled the sword free as De’Unnero tumbled down, and stabbed him again and
again, gashing his arms, human hand and tiger paw, as he tried to fend her, stabbing his leg hard as he tried to scramble away.

He tried to come up, suddenly, reversing direction, but the infuriated woman was ready for him again, bringing Defender down in a hard slash that tore through skin and smashed the monk’s collarbone. As his arm went weak under him, De’Unnero lost his balance and fell down flat on his back.

Gasping for breath, he stared up at the victorious Pony.

“And you think those wounds will heal,” she said, and she batted his one blocking arm aside and fell over him, thrusting her hand right into the monk’s deepest wound.

De’Unnero gasped again, his mouth twisting in a silent question.

“Do you feel it?” Pony asked him, and she drove her hand in harder. “Do you feel that stone, Marcalo De’Unnero?”

She sent her energy into the stone she held inside the monk’s body.

A sunstone.

Pony felt the resistance of the healing magic that had sustained De’Unnero in health and youth for so many years, the magic that had allowed him to recover from the mortal wounds she had inflicted upon him in their fight in Palmaris those years before.

De’Unnero’s one working arm, his human arm, snapped up and grabbed her by the wrist.

“This time you are dead, Marcalo De’Unnero,” the woman promised, and she growled and drove on, the sunstone antimagic pushing through the monk’s healing magical shield.

As if resigned to the truth of her words, De’Unnero let go of her and settled back.

As if somehow pleased by this final ending, the monk looked up at her, his face showing acceptance. He looked her in the eye, nodded, and slumped back.

Pony knew that she couldn’t stop there. She spun about, to see Juraviel crumpled against the wall, and Braumin lying on the floor, weeping and curled, and clutching at his many wounds.

She heard the fighting down below, and knew that she had to press on. She moved to the stairs, past the sobbing Sadye, and looked down upon the spectacle—down upon her lost husband, Elbryan, brought forth by the abomination that was her son.

T
here were still pockets of fighting on the field, and some of it was ferocious, but at the center of the lines, where Bruinhelde and Liam faced off against Duke Kalas himself, all had gone quiet. The dragon stood between the forces, eyeing the Alpinadoran warriors and Vanguardsmen almost as hungrily as he regarded Duke Kalas and his Allhearts.

“There is no need of this,” Pagonel continued to insist. “Prince Midalis has joined in battle with Aydrian even now. How many must die?”

“And of what intent are you, should Aydrian emerge from that conflict?” Duke Kalas shouted at the opposing leaders, particularly at great Bruinhelde.

“My warriors have come as Prince Midalis’ allies,” the proud northman replied. “But if the battle is settled within, then our time here is ended.”

“Tell them all to stop,” Pagonel shouted to the leaders. “I beg of you to save as many brave men as you can this terrible day!”

Duke Kalas stared at him hard for a few moments, then turned to his leaders. “Tell them to stand down!”

“My lord!” came a protest, but Kalas cut the man short by turning away and holding up a hand.

“If you have deceived me, then know that none of Prince Midalis’ followers will leave this field alive,” he warned the mystic.

Pagonel more than matched that stare.

Right beside him, Agradeleous lowered his head and gave a low growl, smoke issuing forth from his nostrils.

S
he started down the staircase, but Pony knew that she could not get to Brynn in time. With Bradwarden out of the fighting, Elbryan was dominating the ranger of To-gai. Tempest slapped once, twice, thrice against Flamedancer, pushing it out to the side, and when Brynn tried to bring it to bear, thinking the specter would take the opening and charge, Elbryan fooled her completely by stepping back instead.

As Flamedancer came across, Elbryan worked Tempest over, down, and then under and up, wrapping the blade and powerfully throwing it out to the side, right from Brynn’s grasp.

The woman cried out and charged ahead, knowing that she had to get inside the specter’s deadly blade. But Elbryan hardly hesitated, hitting her with a left hook that shattered her nose and sent her staggering to the side and to the floor.

“Elbryan!” Pony yelled, coming down more quickly.

The specter turned to regard her, and a light flared in its eyes as it came to recognize the woman. Abandoning the fallen Brynn, Elbryan stalked ahead for Pony, brandishing Tempest.

Pony knew that she couldn’t possibly match this man, Nightbird, blade against blade. Even in life, those years ago, she was not his equal, but now …

She went at him in a different manner, falling into her soul stone and sending her magical energy at his spirit with all her strength.

She closed her physical eyes, but watched the approach of his shadowy form, and she knew that she was slowing him, at least.

The woman plowed on, throwing all of her strength at the specter, denying his existence, damning him back to the netherworld. But on he came, and she knew that Aydrian had brought him forth too fully for any hope of dismissing him! She could not deny the strength of the creature, nor could she match it, physically or spiritually!

On impulse, the desperate woman changed her tactics. Instead of fighting
against Elbryan, she accepted him, with all of her heart. She searched that shadowy spirit, seeking a spark of light in the darkness.

She felt cold as he came over her, felt the hard stairs against her back, though she didn’t even know that she had fallen.

Pony opened her eyes and looked up at the man, his face twisted in rage, Tempest’s tip in close to her exposed throat.

“Elbryan,” she said softly. “My love.”

Tempest began to tremble; Pony sensed a struggle within the creature.

“Fight it,” she implored him, and she fell deeper into the hematite and stepped from her body, as if to hug her lover spiritually.
You must resist the call of Aydrian!
she telepathically imparted.
Elbryan, my love! Remember all that you were, all that we were. You know me
.

Tempest began to edge away, and when Pony opened her physical eyes once more, she nearly swooned. For the specter’s dark features lightened; its skin shed the gray hue and seemed to come alive! The light of life was coming back to him, undeniably so! Pony looked into Elbryan’s eyes, those dazzling green eyes that had so enthralled her from the time she was old enough to appreciate the differences between men and women.

Elbryan pulled back his sword suddenly, instead extending his hand, and Pony took it gladly.

“We have to stop our son,” she explained as Elbryan reached up and tenderly stroked her cheek.

“What have you done?” came a shout from below, and the pair turned to see Aydrian standing by the throne. Prince Midalis, battered and bloody, crawled on the floor behind him, seeming senseless.

“What have
you
done?” Pony shouted back.

Aydrian closed his eyes and reached out to Elbryan’s hand through the lodestones set in his breastplate, and the ranger, still unsettled and confused, had Tempest torn from his grasp, the sword flying across the way, where Aydrian neatly caught it. “You see?” he boasted. “Nothing is beyond me!” He leveled the deadly sword their way.

Pony desperately reached for her pouch, for her sunstone, but realized that she had left it above, with De’Unnero.

“Now you die!” Aydrian promised, and he sent his great strength into the graphite.

But a flaming sword flashed before him, smacking against his blade, turning it aside, and the tremendous lightning bolt split the marble of the floor and ricocheted about the room.

“The second shadow in the mirror!” Elbryan cried to Pony. “He is as Markwart once was!” He grabbed her hand, then, clutching the hematite with her, and together they went through the gemstone portal, throwing themselves at Aydrian in the realm of the spirit even as Brynn battled him physically.

But the duality that was Aydrian was more than up to the challenge, his sword
parrying and countering Brynn’s attacks even as the darkness within him fended the spiritual assault of both his parents. Pony went at him physically, then, as well, and the three blades rang so quickly and loudly that it seemed like one long toll of a bell.