The Shadows of Grace (41 page)

High above him the angels and demons clashed, showering the ground below with blood.

“
S
low their approach,” Haern shouted to Aurelia as the waves of undead charged.

Aurelia stood, all emotion draining from her face as she prepared for battle. Frost wafted from her fingers as she they danced. Giant boulders of ice leaped from her hands, rolling through the ranks of undead. She then created a wall of fire, stretching for hundreds of yards. Wave after wave marched through it, burning skin and setting bodies aflame.

Then the wall of fire vanished as quickly as Aurelia had summoned it. Velixar approached, Qurrah and Krieger at his sides.

“It’s been a long time, elf,” Velixar shouted as his undead marched past him. Aurelia shivered, remembering her battle in Woodhaven years ago. She had thrown everything at him, and he had only laughed. She hurled a bolt of lightning, not at him, but at his minions. Velixar countered, stretching his arms and sending a shimmering black sphere directly in its path. The lightning struck the sphere and dissipated.

“Keep him occupied,” Lathaar said to Aurelia as they braced themselves. “And we’ll keep us alive.”

“Flee you fool,” Qurrah shouted to his brother.

“You stay and fight the dead if you want,” Harruq said, shaking his head. “I’m going for him.”

He charged, slamming through the undead as if they were an inconvenience at best. His twin blades sliced through rotted flesh, leaving a crimson afterimage as they spun and cut.

“Send your troops around back,” Velixar ordered Krieger before casting another spell. A dark mist rose from the ground, swirling into his undead as if their open wounds were breathing it in. Their rotten flesh tightened. Their lumbering gaits quickened. With beyond human strength they struck, and Harruq found himself on the defensive, parrying and dodging their punches and bites.

Jerico and Lathaar sang a song to Ashhur as they fought, even as their bodies cringed at the sheer strength ramming against their weapons and shield. Haern fought as he had in Veldaren, spinning and weaving around the two paladins, so that if either faltered he was there, cutting down an attacker with a precise strike from his sabers. Dieredon flew over, raining down arrows before banking around, dodging a bolt of shadow Qurrah threw at him.

“You fight valiantly,” Qurrah said to his brother, who struggled a mere ten feet away, unable to pass through the waves of undead that seemed unending. “Throw down your weapons, and perhaps you will live.”

A ball of flame exploded among the undead ranks to his right, no doubt a gift from Tarlak.

“I know!” Harruq shouted, ignoring his offer. “I know about your child! I know about your promise!”

Qurrah staggered as if struck by an arrow. He glanced at Tessanna, who was just beginning to stir.

“You know nothing,” he hissed, shadows stretching and growing about his body. “I will end you, worm.”

All around them bodies crashed to the ground, both angel and demon. Qurrah mashed his hands together, and between his fingers thin darts of darkness shot toward Harruq, over fifty in number. Harruq spun his blades as he turned, avoiding most, and the ones that did bite into his skin, he ignored. They did no real damage, instead flooding his body with incredible pain. The halforc chuckled. Apparently his brother didn’t realize just how much his pain threshold had increased.

He chopped down two more undead, spun his swords in a circle to shred four more and lunged, the way to his brother clear. Qurrah drew his whip and lashed the ground, eager to put an end to his guilt.

T
wo more bolts of lightning streaked from her hands, and each one Velixar absorbed with orbs of shadow. When she hurled a third directly at him, he smirked and swatted it aside as if it were a fly. The bolt veered into the air, killing several of the aerial combatants.

“Behind us!” Haern shouted as he leaped over Jerico, the paladin slamming his shield into a large skeletal undead. Its bones exploded into chalk under the tremendous glow. The assassin pointed his sabers, even though he doubted either Aurelia or the paladins would be able to spare the moment to see. Twenty dark paladins rode on horseback around the ranks of the dead, curling about with an obvious goal. They would flank them all, and pressed on both sides the Eschaton would fall.

Haern felt panic claw his gut, but when he glanced back at the city, he laughed. Perhaps things weren’t as dire as he thought. Two balls of fire detonated around the dark paladins, courtesy of Tarlak, and as they angled their charge they saw Antonil and his troops, numbering two hundred to their twenty. Antonil led the way, his sword held high. Krieger tried to turn about, but the distance was not enough.

“Ram them!” Antonil shouted. “Do not engage, just send them to the dirt!”

The fight was quick but brutal. Antonil’s men gave no care for their own safety, even knowing the dark paladins’ strength and skill. Instead, their horses slammed directly into them, plowing bodies together and toppling them from their mounts. Those that stayed seated were vastly outnumbered, and could only turn and flee. Seven of the twenty managed to remain mounted and escape. Krieger was not one of those twenty.

Antonil pressed on, many of his own men dead or dismounted. They picked up speed, and as one, the soldiers shouted the name of their king. They rode through the waves of dead surrounding the Eschaton, crushing them with their sheer weight. Velixar attacked them with boulders of lava, but this time it was Aurelia who countered, ripping chunks of earth from the ground and forcing them back.

“Where are my tested?” Velixar shouted. “Where are my priests?” A ball of fire flew just over his head, decimating twenty more undead in its explosion. “And will someone kill that damn mage?”

Behind the rows of undead, the tested sang their own song of Karak’s glory, their skeletal hands raised to the sky. They pushed through the dead, eager for their chance at combat. The priests, however, remained at the back, gathered together in a tremendous circle. They were casting a spell, but he could not tell what. Velixar glanced at the sky, where the battle was still undecided. His priests could turn the battle, bombarding Harruq and his allies with spells of weakness and madness.

He ran through his undead and his tested, approaching the circle. The words they shouted in unison seemed familiar to him, as if from a century-old dream. Their arms were raised to the sky, and as one they shouted a single name, one that filled him with fury.

‘
Melorak!’
they shouted.

Velixar pushed into the circle, but was too late. In the center was a single body, a fellow priest willingly sacrificed with a gigantic gash in his throat. Shadows swirled into him, and the grass below withered brown and died. A deep, low rumble sounded from the throats of the priests, and in one jerky movement, the body stood. There was no doubt who it was.

“I am the one whose coming was foretold,” Preston said, his features constantly shifting and his eyes glowing red. “The time of prophets is over, Velixar. In this new age, Karak has sent his king.”

He outstretched his hand, red lightning leaping from his palm straight for Velixar.

Q
urrah lashed twice with his whip, forcing Harruq to stop and slap it away. Before Harruq could continue forward, Qurrah slammed his hands together. Twenty of the nearby undead exploded in a shower of rotted flesh. He pulled the bones to him, swirling around his body like making him the center of a skeletal tornado. Harruq stopped just short of its edge and slammed his swords together. Light flashed over them both, and the bones wavered in the air, their magic waning. Qurrah focused harder, but when Harruq again slammed his swords together the bones fell.

Qurrah dove as the hilts of Harruq’s swords struck where he’d been. The halforc grabbed a clump of dirt and hurled it behind him, filling it with dark magic. When Harruq slapped it aside with one of his swords, it exploded into a barrage of darts. They pierced his armor and flesh, flooding his nerves with unending pain. He collapsed to one knee, screaming. Many of the undead approached him, their arms reaching out, but he regained his footing and smacked them away.

“What is the point of this?” Qurrah asked as his fingers danced. The rotted flesh Harruq stepped on suddenly animated, wrapping around his ankles and holding him still. “You didn’t have the strength to kill me before. Will you kill me now, brother, or is this a waste of time?”

Harruq chopped at the dead flesh with one sword, fending off attacking undead with his other.

“No waste,” he said. “And no lack of strength.”

“I see your eyes,” Qurrah said. A tested ran past him, and before he could react, Qurrah yanked out his spine with a spell and wielded it as a staff. He ignored the fanatic’s dying screams.

“You claimed me a puppet of a god,” Qurrah continued. “But you have lost yourself to Ashhur, far more than I ever served Karak.”

Harruq grinned as he cut the last of the flesh holding his ankle. He twirled Salvation and Condemnation, as if daring Qurrah to strike.

“You’re right,” Harruq said. “But I have gained so much in return. What has Karak given you?”

He swung a few times, easy blows he knew his brother could block with his staff. He poured more and more strength into his hits, and the staff shimmered with a red luminescence as the magic holding it together began to fail.

“I have Tessanna,” Qurrah said, dropping the staff and slamming his palms together. A wave of invisible force rammed into Harruq, but he plunged his swords into the ground and held firm. “I have her child. We will escape everything, and live in peace beyond the stars.”

“You had Tess before you turned to Karak,” Harruq said as he pulled his swords free. “Your child is not yet born. You cling to promises and lies.”

“You know nothing,” Qurrah shouted. He struck Harruq square in the chest with a bolt of shadow, crushing in his armor and threatening to snap his ribs. The halforc gasped at the blow, but still held his footing.

“You always were the smart one,” Harruq said as he accepted another bolt of shadow to his chest. “Thought you were the stronger, too.”

A third bolt hit, and still his body withstood. At the fourth he crossed his swords and let it splash harmlessly against their steel.

“But that isn’t true; not anymore,” Harruq said, lunging with such speed his brother could only fall backward and throw up a desperate defense.

“
T
reat their hands like swords!” Jerico shouted as the waves of undead ended and a swarm of tested approached. “And don’t let them touch you!”

The tested shouted the name of their god, their voice carrying magic. The paladins felt their resolve weaken at the sound. Haern leaped back, wishing for a protection spell from Delysia, and then feeling his heart ache as he realized it would never be. Aurelia cast a bolt of lightning directly into their ranks, killing five. Lathaar and Jerico rushed forward as they arrived, slamming into the tested with sword and shield leading. Their foes wore no armor, and held little protection against their attacks. Whenever they tried to block, Lathaar’s glowing blades sliced through the bony arms and into flesh. Jerico’s shield repelled them with ease, and over it he struck again and again with his mace. They were many though, and they pushed forward with tremendous strength.

Haern weaved between them, slicing out tendons in the arms and legs of the tested. He spun his cloaks, daring those that surrounded him to try an attack, but instead they stopped.

“Karak!” they shouted, and from all sides the power was tremendous. Haern halted his cloak dance and collapsed to the ground, his arms and legs flailing despite his orders to flee.

“Haern!” Aurelia shouted, seeing him fall. She raised her arms above her head and then pulled them down. Huge chunks of earth tore free before her and rolled straight for the tested. She let out a horrified cry as Antonil’s men suddenly appeared in between them, crushing tested underneath their charge. The boulders knocked aside almost a third of his men, and those that were not killed immediately soon died to the swarming tested.

Haern heard their screams, and knew he should move, but instead he cowered, feeling paralyzed and helpless. Something punched his gut, and he screamed long and loud. A second hit his knee, shattering bone. He rolled to the ground and onto his back, and above him he saw fanatics reaching with dead hands and hate-filled eyes.

“Save him!” Aurelia shouted to the paladins. They surged ahead, pushing aside tested and undead with brutal efficiency, but they were too many, the distance, too far.

“Karak!” they shouted.

One grabbed Haern by his neck and held him high. The tested’s fingers were ice, and black marks stretched across Haern’s skin from their contact. A second struck his side. Ribs broke. Several more times they struck him, the bones in his body fracturing under the blows.

“Karak!” they shouted.

The skeletal hand clutched his neck tighter. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Something grabbed his hip, and then his entire body shrieked in pain as two tested mashed their fists against his waist, shattering his femur.

“Karak!” they shouted.

Haern looked to the sky, and there he saw white wings stretching wide enough to blot out the sun. He knew his life had reached its end.