The Complete Rhenwars Saga: An Epic Fantasy Pentalogy

by M. L. Spencer

  He found himself in a dim passage filled with an appalling green light. The light poured from a doorway just ahead, streaming out in ghastly rays, brilliant and blinding. Kyel didn’t hesitate. Gripping his weapon, he strode forward into the light. Quin stopped, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare.

  The magic field winced painfully. And then it died.

  “Damn,” Quin muttered, knowing exactly what that meant.

  Clenching his jaw in determination, he followed Kyel through the opening.

  And stopped, too paralyzed to move a step further.

  The Well of Tears stood before them, a waist-high ring of granite stone. Around its circumference, sinister markings glowed malevolently. A violent column of energy erupted from the Well’s bore, piercing the ceiling overhead. Quin knew where it went. It shot up through the rock, thrusting upward from the mountain to impale the sky.

  Kyel stood staring at the crackling pillar of light, his cloak rippled by a wind of displaced air. He hesitated for a moment, unmoving. Then he raised the morning star over his head and brought it down with all his might, striking the Well’s rim.

  The weapon didn’t impact. But the force of its magic did. Fragments of stone shot out, flying in all directions.

  Somehow, the Well fought back.

  Kyel was hurled backward, impacting with the wall behind him. Shaking his head as if dazed, he picked himself up off the ground. A thin stream of blood leaked from his nostrils. His face grimly resolute, he approached the Well and, raising the morning star over his head, brought it down with all the force in his body.

  Naia knelt on the edge of the Circle of Convergence, constrained by bonds of light. But Zavier Renquist paid her no mind; his attention was focused on Darien.

  Holding Quin’s sword, Renquist strode across the Circle to where Darien lay on his back. Naia couldn’t tell whether he was stunned or dead. Twenty-two tiers of power had slammed into him from the stone, on top of the ten he already had. Enough to kill him, she felt certain. She just didn’t know how fast.

  Renquist drew to a stop and lingered over Darien for a moment, gazing somberly down. Almost, Naia thought, the Prime Warden’s face held an expression of regret. Gritting his teeth, he reversed his grip on Zanikar’s hilt. Then he plunged the blade into Darien’s chest.

  As Naia looked on in horror, Darien’s blood ran freely, spreading outward over the Circle of Convergence in an ever-enlarging pool.

  Kyel howled in pain as jagged blocks of stone cracked and fell away from the Well’s girth. Again, he was thrown back against the wall, this time sagging to his knees. Blood flowed in thick ropes from his nose, trickled from his ears. Like a drunken man, he hauled himself upright and lurched sideways. Then he lifted his weapon and threw himself at the Well again.

  Stone rained. Kyel screamed. He brought the talisman up and slammed it down again and again, fracturing block after block. He reeled, stumbling backward, catching himself on the wall. He pushed himself off and staggered around the Well’s circumference to attack the other side. Again and again, he brought the talisman down against the Well with all the strength he had, raining shards of granite all over the chamber.

  Blood sprayed. Kyel dropped, moaning, to his knees. Thar’gon fell from his hands.

  Quin looked on in horror. Without the magic field, there was nothing he could do. There was nothing to shield Kyel from the terrible force of the Well’s backlash.

  With a growl, Kyel grabbed the weapon off the ground and heaved himself back to his feet. He teetered and almost fell. Streams of blood rolled down his face, leaking like tears. The front of his shirt was saturated. The Well had been reduced to a pile of broken stone, only the blocks of its foundation yet remaining. But the portal was still full-open, the gush of energy still raging furiously upward from the bore.

  Kyel heaved the weapon over his head and brought it down again with a furious shout. Chips of rock ricocheted off the walls, striking Quin in the face. Kyel screamed in agony, and Thar’gon flew from his hands. He wavered for a moment, off-balanced. Then he collapsed, falling forward toward the gaping bore of the Well of Tears.

  “NO!” Quin shouted. He caught Kyel by the cloak and jerked him back. His momentum carried him to the floor, Kyel falling on top of him.

  Quin rolled him over and sat up.

  Kyel stared up at him with a loose, unfocused gaze, his face a glistening mask of blood. More blood ran from his nose in a viscous stream that drained down his cheeks.

  Panicked, Quin glanced back at the ruin of the Well. There were still blocks remaining. Kyel needed to get up, needed to finish the job. Only he could wield the talisman.

  Quin growled in desperation. He had to find a way to get Kyel back on his feet. Frantic, he grasped him by the shoulders, ready to try shaking him back to his senses. But then he stopped himself. It wouldn’t do any good, he realized with a stab of desperation that felt like a gut punch.

  Kyel wouldn’t be getting up again.

  Quin looked down at the glowing morning star that lay on the floor next to him. He glanced back at the Well. Then he looked down at Kyel. The Sentinel’s lips were moving, struggling to form words Quin couldn’t make out. He leaned closer, straining to hear.

  “Take it,” Kyel whispered in a gurgling breath. “Finish it.”

  Kyel’s fingers groped for the silver talisman that lay just out of reach.

  Drowning in uncertainty, Quin shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t lift it.”

  Kyel whispered, “You can if I’m dead.”

  Quin froze, gripped by cold revulsion as he realized what the Sentinel was asking. He shook his head in an attempt to deny him. But one glance back at the pillar of energy told him he didn’t have a choice. He reached for his boot knife.

  With a growl, Quin drove the knife as hard as he could between Kyel’s ribs, burying it up to the hilt.

  Kyel flinched. Then he blinked. And that was all.

  Quin sagged back on his haunches, watching as waves of power gushed from Kyel’s body in distorted waves, lost to the air. Quin threw his head back and screamed. Balling his fist, he smacked his hand against the ground in rage.

  Across the room, the surge of energy yet surged from the Well’s gaping bore.

  Trembling, Quin reached for Thar’gon. But he stopped himself, suddenly mired in doubt. The talisman was designed to be wielded only by the Warden of Battlemages. And he wasn’t a Battlemage.

  But, then, Kyel hadn’t been either.

  With conviction, Quin closed his fingers around the weapon’s haft and lifted the talisman from the floor. Immediately, warmth and solace flowed into him along with a newfound strength he’d never known. Filled with a blissful sense of euphoria, Quin rose from the ground.

  He glanced back at Kyel and whispered his gratitude to the fallen Sentinel.

  Then he raised the weapon over his head and, with all his might, brought the talisman smashing down.

  The Well fought back.

  Quin screamed.

  The Gateway was still open. It shot upward into the sky, spearing the heavens.

  Naia struggled against her bonds, trying desperately to escape the advancing demon. Across from her, sprawled in the center of the Circle of Convergence, Darien lay dying in an expanding pool of blood. It flowed into the gaps and crevices of the Circle’s rays, outlining the marble tiles with heightened contrast. The blood continued to advance, as if seeking to saturate the entire Circle.

  Zavier Renquist pushed Naia to her knees, positioning himself behind her. He drew the sword back over his shoulder, preparing to strike.

  A thunderous clap of air sent him hurling backward. Naia looked up in terror, in hope, in desperation. She gasped in disbelief. Blood streaming down his face, Quin stalked toward her across the glowing Circle, the talisman Thar’gon glowing like a beacon in his hand.

  “Run, Naia!”

  Naia froze. Renquist was already pushing himself to his feet.

  “Run!” Quin commanded
again, raising the morning star.

  He swung the weapon at Renquist, creating a concussive blast of air that knocked the Prime Warden back to the ground. Hefting the weapon, Quin advanced.

  “No,” Naia whispered, shaking her head. This was wrong. It was all terribly, terribly wrong.

  “No, Quin!” she shrieked. “Leave him! Help Darien!”

  Quin froze in the action of drawing the weapon back for another blow. He growled in frustration. Then he whirled and ran back across the Circle of Convergence.

  He dropped to Darien’s side and lay a hand on his chest. He closed his eyes, gripping the talisman. The silver artifact glowed, swelling with a powerful brilliance.

  Darien gasped. Then he opened his eyes.

  Behind Naia, Renquist was moving. He rose to his feet, eyes menacing pools of shadow. He raised his hand and struck out at her with the Onslaught. Naia was lifted from the ground and hurled through the air.

  Her body impacted with the rock, cutting short her scream.

  “Naia!” Quin bellowed.

  He bolted toward her but halted as Zavier Renquist stepped between them.

  Spreading his arms, Renquist began to glow with the vile light of the Gateway. It was then that Quin saw it: a streaking ribbon of energy arcing from the pillar to Renquist, as though he were drawing power from it.

  Hellpower.

  Quin realized that ribbon of corrupt energy was the reason why the portal hadn’t collapsed. Renquist was drinking in the Onslaught, sustaining the Gateway by keeping the Hellpower flowing through it.

  With a great, thunderous growl, Zavier Renquist changed. Before Quin’s eyes, he swelled to enormous size, his arms growing and spreading into heinous, bat-like wings. Quin cried out, scrambling away from the twisted beast. Its head seemed all teeth, its eyes infinite pools of darkness. The demon gave a shrill screech, spread its leathery wings, and launched into the air.

  Quin struggled to help Darien gain his feet. Darien wavered, his eyes sliding shut. Overhead, the demon emitted a piercing shriek. Quin looked up. His mouth fell open, his eyes going wide.

  “Give it to me,” Darien whispered.

  It took Quin a moment to realize what he meant. He pressed the morning star’s haft into Darien’s hand and squeezed his fingers closed around it. A bloom of silver radiance erupted from the talisman, overwhelming his vision. Quin whirled away, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes.

  Recovering, he sprinted toward Naia. He ran off the Circle, falling down at her side and turning her over. She was unconscious. Blood ran from a wound over her eye, streaking her face. Without the magic field, he couldn’t heal her. So he did the only thing he could do: he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

  An explosive crackle of thunder rocked the mountain.

  Quin looked back and squinted through the glare. Across the Circle, Darien was on his feet, surrounded by a sphere of dazzling light. Above him, the creature disgorged a stream of flame that gushed against Darien’s brilliant shield, unable to penetrate. Darien danced back, raised his weapon, and swung it around in a great arc. A compressed wave of solid air slammed into the demon, knocking it from the sky and hurling it to the ground with a furious shriek.

  The monster recovered quickly. It took to the air again then spun on wing, turning to retaliate. It opened its mouth and belched forth a roiling inferno of flames. Darien staggered, holding the talisman up defensively as a torrent of fire streamed over him. He fell to his knees, holding the glowing talisman over his head and straining with all his might to keep the shield of argent light in place.

  The demon landed, spewing gouts of flame into the air. Its tail cracked into Darien, knocking him to the ground. He lost his grip on the morning star, and it flew away from him. He scrambled after it, snatching the talisman up and rolling onto his back just in time, as the demon landed on top of him. He used the weapon to bludgeon the monster’s head, sending the creature cringing back in a showering spray of ink-dark blood. The demon flapped into the air with a cry of outrage, then banked sharply back toward the Circle, streaming fire in its wake.

  The creature attacked, throwing itself against Darien’s shield and sending him hurling backward. Overhead, the clouds thundered their fury. Bleeding and dazed, Darien fought his way back to his feet. But the argent brilliance of his weapon was dimming, his arms sagging to his sides.

  The demon let out a hungering screech, then turned to attack. This time, it penetrated Darien’s weakened defenses. The beast’s mouth closed on his chest. Darien howled, flailing in the demon’s grasp. Bringing the morning star up, he battered it against the monster’s leathery hide.

  The creature tossed him into the air, flinging him across the tiles of the square.

  Darien rolled to a stop at the edge of the cliff. He pushed himself up and stood, swaying, his back against the cliff’s harrowing edge.

  The demon took flight, circling upward over the terrace. It opened its jaws, baring a mouthful of chiseled teeth.

  Fire gushed from the creature’s mouth. Darien threw himself sideways in an attempt to dodge. He wasn’t fast enough.

  The blast of flames swept Darien off his feet, hurling him over the cliff’s edge.

  “NO!” Quin screamed.

  Overhead, the skies strobed and rumbled their fury.

  The demon alighted on the terrace and, noticing Quin, stalked forward. Quin set Naia on the ground and rose, stepping between her and the monster. The demon opened its mouth, smoke trailing from its nostrils. Its sides expanded as it filled its bellows with a great chestful of air.

  Quin threw his hands up.

  There was a violent gush of wind, the crackling sound of flapping wings.

  The demon shrieked as it was snatched into the air by a pair of enormous talons. It writhed and twisted, squirming to break free, finally dislodging itself from the dark-scaled creature that veered upward into the sky.

  Quin threw himself to the ground.

  Overhead, a tremendous dragon unfurled wings large enough to dominate the sky. It banked gracefully, circling the turbulent pillar of light. Its obsidian scales looked blacker than the abyss against the awful glow of the Gateway.

  Quin gawked up at the sky, shaking his head in mute denial, jaw slack in disbelief.

  Darien.

  The dragon tucked its wings and plunged into a steep dive. With a deafening roar, it opened its mouth and flooded the Circle with flames. The demon was thrown across the ground, rolling to a stop. It lay still for a moment, singed and smoldering.

  The dragon alighted on the Circle with a graceful backstroking of wings, the wind of its landing whipping Quin’s hair like a gale. The beast advanced, stalking forward, head lowered and nostrils flaring. Cowering before it, the demon scrambled back. There was a brilliant flash of light.

  The demon was gone.

  In its place reared another dragon, larger than the first, its scales a dark emerald green. It took fluidly to the air, the obsidian dragon vaulting after it.

  The sky thundered as the two beasts collided overhead, a writhing tangle of wings and talons and gushing streaks of flame. Both creatures screamed their rage, their claws raking scales, serrated teeth shredding wings. The ferocity of their battle trembled the clouds and shook the very roots of the mountain. Their dark blood fell from the sky like rain.

  The monsters broke apart. The emerald dragon beat the air furiously to gain height, while the other soared low, favoring an injured wing. It banked over the terrace and angled sharply downward toward the valley.

  The green dragon roared, wingtips parting the clouds, then threw itself into a plummeting dive. Its talons outstretched, it scooped its enemy out of the sky, dashing the black dragon hard against the cliff face.

  Rock fractured. Part of the cliffside gave way, raining stone down onto the valley floor. Recovering, the black dragon roared a challenge. It pushed off from the cliff with a powerful thrust of its hindquarters, slithering after its adversary.

  The bea
sts crashed together and locked in the air, a mass of spewing flames and clashing wings. Together, the dragons grappled with claws and teeth. Twined together in a deadly knot, each strove to rip the throat out of the other. Locked in a death-spiral, the two creatures plummeted down the face of the mountain, ragged wings outstretched, helpless to break their fall.

  Quin sprang toward the cliff’s edge, halting just in time to witness the dragons break apart. The black dragon tumbled away, coming to a rolling stop on the ground. The emerald dragon slammed against a rock outcrop then dropped, broken and lifeless, to the valley floor.

  Above, a horrendous grating noise filled the night. The mountains lurched as if convulsed.

  The spear of light erupted violently. The pillar shivered and distorted, caving in on itself. The green spire roiled like a frothing geyser, collapsing into the mountainside. The clouds above it slammed together with a shocking fury that showered the night with jagged streaks of lightning.

  Shaking, Quin pushed himself back from the cliff’s edge and stumbled back to Naia’s side. He dropped down next to her and pulled her into his arms, clutching her tight.

  “It’s over,” he assured her, stroking his fingers through her hair.

  42

  Damned

  Darien hadn’t expected to wake.

  He had a feeling he’d been floating somewhere between full sleep and full wakefulness for quite some time, like a man drowning in the ocean, groping for the surface. He cracked open his eyes, blinking against a riotous glare of light that stung his vision. He was shivering. Shaking. He couldn’t control it. The air was stale. Cold. He burned from within. Beyond the light, the world was an obscure haze, as though he were looking out a window through a pane of mottled glass.

  Something wet touched his face. A rag. It made him shiver harder.

  “Where…” he whispered. It was all he could do to get that one syllable past his throat.