Torn By War: 4 (The Death Wizard Chronicles) (37 page)

Bard never saw the ball of sputum that landed on top of his skull-cap, splashing like a skin of water dropped off a cliff. Ordinarily, the woodsman would not have been severely injured, but tendrils spilled into his eyes. Bard dropped the hammer and swiped at his eyes with his hands, but this only made it worse. In reaction to the pain, he squeezed his legs together so fiercely his destrier bolted forward, believing his rider was urging another charge. Bard was carried deep into the fray, away from Ugga and the Tugars. Suddenly a hundred powerful hands ripped him off his horse and dragged him away.

“So, this is how I dies,” Bard thought. “After all these years, it’s not what I expected.”

“MASTER HAN-NAH! Master Han-nah! Come quick! We need ya. The monsters grabbed Bard and took him!”

Laylah was nearest to Ugga. “Show us the way!” she said.

After the last volley of arrows was launched, the second-to-last row of armored horsemen charged forward, strengthened by Torg and two thousand Tugars. Laylah and Ugga joined the wizard. With the three of them in front, they tore through the enemy, casting aside druids of all shapes and sizes. In Laylah’s hands, Obhasa thrummed, spewing death upon any who came near. The druids did their best to stop them, but not even the greatest could stand against Ugga’s axe, Torg’s sword, and Laylah’s staff. Deep they cleaved into the heart of the horde.

Without warning they emerged into a clearing, within which stood the monstrosity that had once been Urbana.

And off to the side, another monster . . .
Lucius
?

“There’s Bard! There’s Bard!” Ugga shouted.

And then the druids closed around them.

THE DAASA WERE even quicker than Lucius, thundering toward Bonny and heaving druids off her one by one. By the time he reached her, she’d already regained her feet, her eyes ablaze with rage. But she had deep cuts on the side of her neck and beneath one of her bulbous breasts, and they were bleeding profusely. Even in his altered state, Lucius was able to think clearly enough to realize that if Bonny were to survive the night, they needed to find Torg.

With a psychic command, Lucius ordered the Daasa to form a wedge. Fewer than eight thousand of the original ten thousand responded, the others either dead or too seriously wounded to answer his summons. Lucius put his arm around Bonny to hold her up, but she snarled and shoved him way, refusing to believe that her injuries were as serious as they appeared.

In this new formation, the Daasa drove deep into the druid horde. Lucius planned to pierce all the way through to the Jivitans on the other side. They fought forward for almost a mile, but it was taking a serious toll. Now engulfed, the Daasa were forced to fight more defensively, and their numbers were diminishing. The larger druids, especially, were wreaking havoc. Everything was falling apart. It was as if he, Bonny, and the Daasa were fighting the enemy all by themselves. Where were Torg and Laylah? The Tugars? The Jivitans?

As if entering the eye of a massive storm, they emerged into a clearing, perhaps a quarter-mile in diameter and illuminated by thousands of glowing eyes. Instantly a wall of larger druids encircled them. The Daasa closed around Lucius, snapping and snarling, but giving him just enough of an opening to see toward the middle of the clearing, where a hideous female being, at least as large as a Kojin, stood. She bore a black staff twice his height with a jewel on its head that blazed as bright as a hundred torches.

“General, we meet again,” Urbana said, her voice booming above the nauseating humming. “Now I comprehend the difference I sensed in you before. Both of us have changed somewhat since the last time we were together, wouldn’t you agree?”

A large man lay motionless at Urbana’s feet. At first Lucius didn’t recognize him, but then the former vampire touched him with the fiery jewel, causing him to arch his back and scream. Lucius saw Bard’s face and gasped.

“Friend of yours?” Urbana said. “Wasn’t he there when we stole the little bitch from you at the edge of the forest?”

Then she touched Bard again, and he fell forward and lay still.

Urbana grunted. “You’re not much of a talker, Lucius. I can’t seem to get you to say so much as hello. Then again, you never were very interesting, to be honest.”

Lucius felt his fangs digging into his lower lip, his rage compounded tenfold. But then Bonny collapsed, and his anger turned to fear. Lucius knelt beside her, prompting Urbana to cackle.

“Aaaah . . . your ugly girly-friend isn’t feeling well? Serves her right.
None
of you will be feeling well by the time I’m through.”

He did not respond, could not respond.

“You know, an idea just came to me,” Urbana boasted. “I might not kill you tonight. Instead, I’ll save you—just you—as a gift for Mala.”

A growl was building up inside Lucius’ throat, obscuring all else with its intensity. He intended to fling himself at the monster and slay her with his war club—or die trying. But just as he started to move, a disturbance outside the circle distracted him. Suddenly a portion of the druids were swept aside, and black figures poured through the breach, including one on a great horse, its coat the color of jade.

The Torgon
had come. With the Tugars. And he also saw Laylah, Ugga, and Captain Julich.

WHEN TORG ENTERED the clearing, he became even more determined to confront the monster that drove the druids in
Kattham
’s absence. If Urbana was the conduit through which the druid queen worked her magic, then it was imperative that she be destroyed. The ordinary druids could be beaten, but not even he and his Tugars could prevent the larger ones from slaughtering the Jivitans.

Torg heard Ugga shout, but when Bhojja charged, Urbana reacted with surprising speed, pressing the bejeweled head of a long black staff against Bard’s back. The woodsman arched up and screamed. Immediately Bhojja halted, as did the others.

The hideous monster cackled.

“So . . . he
is
important,” she said in the direction of Lucius and Bonny, whom Torg now saw for the first time in their transformed states. “Even the great
Torgon
, slayer of
Kattham
’s mother, cares for this one.”

Before Torg’s eyes and the eyes of the others, Lucius transformed back to his original self, his body shrinking like a goatskin drained of water. He stood naked over the fallen Bonny, now dwarfed by her immensity, and spoke to Torg in a pleading voice.

“She’s
dying
! Please help her . . .”

And then Ugga shouted, “Bard’s in trub-bull too!”

“I don’t care about Bard! I don’t care about anyone but
her
 . . .”

“Lucius . . .” Laylah said.

“I don’t even care about
you
! Torg, please save her . . .”

“Torg, please save her,” Urbana mocked. “How touching.”

Of the thousands who watched, only Torg saw Bard reach inside his boot and draw out the dagger, so subtle were his movements. When he punched it into the top of Urbana’s foot, the enormous monster emitted a howl heard for leagues. But Urbana did not succumb easily, pounding the dragon jewel onto the back of Bard’s neck. A flash of crimson illuminated the clearing. A fiery blast followed.

In one graceful leap, Bhojja crossed more than five hundred cubits, landing in front of the monster like an angel come to punish a sinner. Torg stood up on the mare’s back, leapt into the air, and spun in a circle, whipping the Silver Sword toward Urbana’s throat. She was fast enough to raise her staff in defense, but the sword sundered the shaft and then the front portion of her neck, ripping through vessels and sinew. Green blood sprayed out, filling the night with a horrendous odor. The upper end of the shaft spun in the air, the jewel still spewing crimson fire. When it settled on the ground, it continued to quiver, glow, and smoke.

Urbana stepped away, holding the huge gash with her hands. Her now lifeless head fell backward and flopped hideously between her shoulder blades. But to Torg’s amazement, the monster did not collapse.

In response, the druids stormed into the clearing. The Tugars and Daasa were beset. Torg found himself separated from all but Ugga. Several dozen druids descended on the crossbreed, but Torg watched him kneel down and pick up the sundered portion of the staff that contained the glowing jewel. Suddenly Bhojja appeared next to the Ugga, but now she was in the form of Jord. The druids backed away, as if afraid, but then Torg’s view was blocked.

Above the tumult of humming, shouting, screams, and sobs, he heard Laylah’s voice—not fearful, but defiant—and it spurred him into action. Wielding the Silver Sword like a scythe, he swept toward her voice, ignoring all other sounds. Soon he entered a smaller clearing, and within it was Urbana, still very much alive. Where the gash had been, a new head had emerged atop of a snake-like neck, resembling the bloody skull of a baby plunging from the womb. But the new face no longer looked like Urbana’s. Instead, it more resembled an insect with dozens of small black eyes and a mouthful of fangs. Beneath the hideous thing stood Laylah, still in full armor, and she held Obhasa out in front.

The insect mouth opened, and a long tongue emerged, wriggling hypnotically. With sudden quickness, the monster reached for Laylah with huge, gnarled hands, but the sorceress batted them away with the ivory staff, scorching the vampire’s palms. The insect head hissed and then spat venom at Laylah’s face and chest, striking the helm and breastplate and dissolving large portions of the Jivitan iron. To Torg’s relief, the sorceress appeared unharmed, and she punched the fiery head of Obhasa into the swollen flesh of Urbana’s abdomen.

More druids assailed Torg, but he leapt in the air, spun, and decapitated the snake head. Gore, hot as magma, sprayed outward. The monster fell forward, tumbling against Torg while he was still off his feet and knocking him head over heels, so that he landed on his back with a grunt. When he looked up he saw yet another head growing out of the severed neck, this one even larger and angrier. Before he could stand, a hundred druids pounced upon him, and for a time there was only darkness.

LAYLAH WATCHED AS the monstrosity that had once been Urbana sprouted a third head, this one even uglier than the second. It happened so quickly, Laylah barely had time to aim Obhasa and launch a bolt of blue-green energy, striking Urbana between her bloated breasts. The stroke blew clean through the monster and out the other side, tearing off the original head that was still dangling against her back on shreds of flesh. Laylah blasted her again, this time in the stomach, then between her legs. Urbana was driven even farther backward, but still she did not fall, the new head staring at her with murderous intent.

To her right was a miniature mountain of druids, with Torg trapped at the bottom. Tugars and Daasa were all around it, dragging the wood-eaters off, but every one they disentangled was replaced by two more. Laylah realized with horror that they were trying to smother the wizard, forcing her to turn her attention away from Urbana.

“Get back! All of you . . .
back
!” she shouted at the Tugars and Daasa, and they obeyed as they would their queen. When there was sufficient clearance she cast the head of the ivory staff at the druids, hurling a wavering blob of explosive magic. Several dozen druids were blown apart, lightening the load enough for Torg to wiggle free, rising from the rubble like a corpse from the grave.

Even as Laylah was letting out a cry of triumph, a hand strong enough to crack the trunk of a tree closed around her neck while the other swatted Obhasa from her grasp. As she was lifted into the air, her feet dangling off the ground, she could feel the vampire’s hot breath on her back. The monster bent her elongated neck over the top of Laylah’s head and curled around to look into her eyes. The mouth opened wide.

“Noooooo!” she heard Torg shout, but then she felt a rush of wind, and a shadow descended from the sky. Talons as thick as Laylah’s arms wrapped around Urbana’s neck and tore off the third head. Laylah was cast forward, rolling on the grass before coming to rest at Torg’s feet.

Laylah turned back and saw Lucius, once again transformed, and Ugga astride the fallen monster. The firstborn was pounding his war club against Urbana’s back while Ugga had wrapped one of his thick arms around the flopping neck.