Hunt of the Bandham (The Bowl of Souls: Book Three) (58 page)

Bettie edged forward, shield raised in front of her. She kept her hammer at the ready, watching for the first sign of movement. Coal watched it through her eyes and from the length of the tentacles, estimated that it had just over a twelve foot reach. Both bonded noted the information and edged closer.

A tentacle lashed out at Bettie. She took the strike on her shield and true to her word the shield held. She swung her hammer forward as the tentacle withdrew and nicked the edge. With a puff of smoke, a small flame erupted from the tentacle’s surface and the creature shuddered. Another tentacle lashed out and then another. Bettie took both strikes on her shield, but the tip of one tentacle whipped over the top and slashed her forearm.

Bettie winced. The cut was deep but Coal was already working on it from within. He coaxed the wound closed within seconds. Bettie’s return attack was head on, setting the tentacle fully ablaze.

Samson swung his spear at an incoming strike and batted the tentacle away. More came in quick succession and each time the centaur’s rune-reinforced spear knocked the attack aside, finally slicing one tentacle in half with its sharpened tip.

Coal saw another tentacle rise from the center of the mass to replace the one Samson had severed. He instantly knew that they were approaching this wrong. The creature was built with such intense and chaotic magic, there was no telling how many tentacles it could regenerate. Sooner or later, it was going to land some direct hits and Coal wouldn’t be able to heal either one of them if they were cut in half.

Come back,
he said.
This won’t work

Bettie started to back up, still using shield and hammer in concert to set the tentacles ablaze, but Samson was too close. It wasn’t easy for the centaur to back up while working his spear. A tentacle slipped past his defense and scored the side of his equine lower body. His thickened wiry pelt saved him from a possibly fatal wound, but a long and deep gash opened up.

Samson gasped and tried to back up. Coal went to work healing the wound as two more tentacles slashed out at once. The centaur batted one aside, but the second struck his arm. The rocky hide was gouged deeply, but did not bleed.

Bettie backed out of the creature’s reach just as the next lash cut deeply into Samson’s flank. She saw the centaur’s distress and rushed to help.

Wai
t! Coal was already healing the wound and knew that Samson could take more punishment but the half-orc could not. Bettie stopped just out of the reach of the tentacles, but Coal knew that if Samson was wounded again she might go in anyway.

A plan formed in his mind.
Bettie, come here, quick! I need you!
She glanced worriedly at Samson, who was still swiping tentacles aside as fast as he could, then screamed in frustration and turned and ran to Coal.

The wizard cast a spell and rose out of the earth as easily as he had submerged himself. Coal shook the dirt from his robes as he pulled his naming dagger from its sheath at his waist. He held it out to Bettie and sent her instructions on what to do.
Strike true.

Samson was almost free from the whip-creature’s reach. It did not want to let him go. Its root-like feelers churned through the earth, slowly dragging it closer. The centaur swore as another tentacle deeply gouged his torso.

Bettie snatched the blade from Coal’s hand. She had never been very good at knife throwing, but she was at least better than the wizard.
You had better start practicing
, she told him. She took a deep breath, focused, and hurled it forward.

Master Coal’s weapon hurtled end over end and plunged into the center of the whip-creature’s tentacled mass. The strike itself did no damage, landing hilt first and tangling itself, but the dagger was right where he wanted it. The spell he planned to use had a very short range.

He wove his spell, reached through the bond and cast it through the dagger. The effect was immediate. The creature shuddered and its feelers plunged deeper into the ground. Its attack’s slowed and Samson was able to back out of its reach.

Coal nodded in satisfaction. A fireball would have done the work much quicker, but he was weak in fire and air. His strengths were water and earth. Wizards with that combination of abilities were often jokingly called “mud wizards”. The spell he had released was usually reserved for drying out marshy areas in the farmland.

The dagger sucked in moisture far faster than the whip-creature could replace it from the ground. Its tentacles began to wither, the stalks shriveled and collapsed. It shuddered and shrank in size.

Now
, he sent.

Bettie threw her hammer and the creature went up in flames.

“That ain’t gonna work, son!” Lenny spat. “I tried to tell you before, but you weren’t friggin’ listenin’. It looks like a dag-blasted bandham! I done seen one back in my younger days. Mean bastards. They’re the only beasts alive that hunt dragons.”

“A bandham? How does that information help me here, Lenny?” Justan said, firing another arrow. The shot caught Kenn in the shoulder, staggering him, but doing as little damage as the strike before.

“They’re immune to dragon magic, that’s how! Yer dragon hair string ain’t gonna work on him.”

“So that explains it,” Justan said and Ma’am thrummed in glee as he fired again. Kenn growled in irritation as the arrow knocked him back once more. Justan’s mind whirred. How were they going to defeat Kenn without the bow? The heat he gave off was too intense for close fighting.

“So how do we fight it, Lenny?” Qyxal asked.

“I dunno.” The dwarf shrugged. “Keep hittin’ it and hope you kill the blasted thing ‘afore it burns you to death?”

“Thanks,” Qyxal said with a scowl.

“Spread out,” Justan said. “He can’t attack all of us at once. Look for an opening.”

“AN OPENING?” Kenn laughed. He flexed and another wave of heat emanated from his body. “I’LL KILL YOU
ALL
.”

Qyxal galloped towards the forest, Lenny towards the river’s edge, and Justan cocked another arrow. He switched to Mage Sight. The heat Kenn gave off wasn’t physical. It was magical. Kenn’s body was a mass of magical energy; a chaotic tangle of fire and air that swarmed about him with an orange glow. It was like a spell was being cast by his body. Justan had no idea how he was able to control it.

Kenn lurched forward as if to lunge at Justan and Gwyrtha instinctively moved back, but at the last moment Kenn lunged to the left instead and thrust his arm out sending a focused wave of heat right at Lenny. Gwyrtha’s movement threw off Justan’s aim and his shot went just wide.

The lance of air and fire magic struck the dwarf in the chest. Lenny flew from the saddle and Stanza’s mane caught fire. The warhorse screamed and galloped off as Lenny struck the ground.

“Lenny!” Justan fired another arrow, this one catching Kenn in the neck. As the arrow left his bow, a sudden pain stabbed his chest. He looked down and saw frost clinging to his shirt, but he didn’t have time to worry about his scar. Gwyrtha sped to Lenny’s side.

The dwarf’s clothes were smoldering and one side of his moustache was singed off, but by the string of curses that he was letting loose, Lenny seemed to be fine. The dwarf struggled to his feet and Gwyrtha stepped between him and the demon Kenn had become. Justan twisted in the saddle and focused his mage sight, preparing for the attack he knew would be coming.

The enormous beast snarled and thrust out his hand again. As Justan expected, another lance of heat shot towards them, this one aimed specifically at him. Justan could see the threads of magic coming, a blur of orange.

He thought back to his training, to the fireballs Professor Beehn had cast at him, to his time spent in the classroom at the Mage School snuffing out magic flames. He threw a wall of defensive magic up around Gwyrtha and himself, weaving together air and water in a tight grid, envisioning it as a pointed shield that would cut into Kenn’s spell and direct the heat to either side.

Kenn’s spell split down the center as it hit the shield and the red and yellow fibers of magic flowed by. Justan’s plan had worked, but the damp ground on either side of them steamed and the few tufts of spring grass that sprouted between the rocks burst into flames.

Kenn’s face twisted into a scowl. He gestured and the heat intensified. The rocks around them glowed red and Justan felt his shield start to crumple. A few of the larger rocks shattered. Gwyrtha grunted and Lenny swore as tiny shards of heated rock struck them.

Lenny patted wildly at the smoldering spots in his clothes where the rock had hit. “Dag-blasted-corn-flamin’-hoop-skirtin’-son-of-a-! Do somethin’ quick, son, or we’re stewed!”

Justan forced down panic and grabbed the hilt of his left sword. Calmness settled over him. This spell he was fighting was different from the ones he had faced in the past. Kenn wasn’t a wizard. This wasn’t a spell that he had woven together with his mind. This was instinctual magic. Somehow Kenn was able to control the magic contained within the body Ewzad Vriil had transformed with his will alone.

Justan reached out with his mage sight, as he was used to doing within the bond, but this time he plunged his thoughts into the heat. There at the very center of the spell, he found it, the cable of Kenn’s will that held the spell together. If only he could attack Kenn’s will directly. Unfortunately his lack of offensive magic once more crippled him.

Justan threw up another shield to reinforce the one that was failing, but knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep it up. If Kenn continued the assault, sooner or later they were going to die. They needed help. Justan looked around for his friends, but Master Coal still hadn’t come down the hill and Fist and Deathclaw were still busy with their own battle. Help was going to have to come from somewhere else.

The earth rumbled under their feet. Two great rocky spikes thrust up from the ground at Kenn’s feet. They shot towards the beast like enormous spears, one of them piercing his thigh, the other, his lower abdomen. Molten blood squirted from the wounds, hissing and steaming. Kenn roared in pain.

Justan looked for the source of the attack and saw Qyxal kneeling on the riverbank, his hands thrust into the earth. The elf met his gaze and his smile was triumphant, but tired. Justan knew that such a powerful spell had exhausted most of his friend’s magic.

Ken reared back and howled as he tore free from Qyxal’s stone claws. He clutched at his wounds but Justan knew the damage wasn’t severe enough. They had to think of another attack now before Kenn was able to counter. 

A thought occurred to him. Qyxal’s magic had worked. The magic of the dragonhair string hadn’t worked but the elf’s earth magic had. Justan thought back to the day the plant golem had attacked the Mage School and how Master Latva had enchanted the arrow he had used to kill the creature. Perhaps Qyxal could do the same, but with earth magic. An enchanted arrow might be enough to bring Kenn down.

Gwyrtha heard his thoughts and turned towards the elf, but so did Kenn. The great red beast spread his black wings and leapt into the air. He didn’t get much elevation with his injured leg, but it was enough. He glided towards the elf, one claw-tipped hand outstretched, murder in his fiery eyes.

“Qyxal, run!” Justan called, and Gwyrtha darted forward. He let go of his sword hilt and picked up Ma’am.

The elf was on the move. He had re-mounted Albert and was headed for the trees, knowing it was his best chance of keeping away from the demon. But he wasn’t fast enough. Kenn was airborne. The great red beast hit the ground at the forest’s edge and snatched Qyxal up in one clawed hand. The elf screamed as his robes caught fire.

Kenn whirled to Justan in triumph, his burning prize held high in the air. “
SEE
, JUSTAN! THIS IS WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO
ALL
OF Y-!”

Justan’s arrow struck true. Kenn’s left eye burst into a fiery mess.

Kenn gasped in surprise, one hand reaching for his ruined eye. His face twisted with rage and pain and he threw the elf at Justan. His aim was off. Qyxal, engulfed in flame tumbled end over end. Justan watched helplessly as his friend arced overhead.

Fortunately Lenny was also watching. The dwarf dropped his hammer and ran, arms outstretched. The elf struck him and they tumbled to the rocky ground. Lenny rolled on top of his friend and frantically began patting out the flames. “Qyxal, blast it! Qyxal, you okay?”