Angels and Elves- Act I
Page 38
The queen made a noise like nothing human, growling gutturally as she flung her demon magic at him. The demonic black tentacles slashed at his face, but he hacked them apart before they got close.
Akirandon hissed, flinging another tentacle at his throat, but Glommish rolled underneath the Dethyr, rising to his feet directly before her and plunging his Purebrand blade into her stomach before she could evade. The queen’s screech of agony turned into uncontrollable laughter. As he wrenched his sword free, Glommish saw the gaping wound in her stomach fill with writhing black tendrils the size of maggots. The wound then healed itself, her blood turning into billowing black smoke instead.
He felt something smack into his chest, and only realised a moment later that he’d been stabbed. In the second he’d looked at Akirandon’s wound heal itself, she’d conjured her own blade of black mist, and now it was buried in his sternum.
He opened his mouth to speak but coughed out blood instead. Akirandon smiled at him, almost greatfully, as she shoved him back and he sprawled on the ground.
She threw her hand out suddenly, but in the direction of the city.
“No!” His scream was lost amongst the tide of a thousand screams as the mushroom towers began to collapse. People still inside, in the process of escaping, fell to their deaths or else were crushed by the falling buildings.
It was the price of not giving the queen what she wanted. But if he had told her, millions across all the worlds would suffer the same fate as his city of gnomes. Akirandon couldn’t get her hands on her spawn.
He wanted nothing more than to run toward the burning buildings, the ones he’d built, and save his people from destruction. But even as he raised his hand, the Purebrand sword flickered out of existence. His sorcery was fast trickling away.
He tried to get to his feet, but his body felt far too heavy. His back was soaked, and he realised a pool of blood had already spread around him. The hole in his chest burned horribly from the demon magic and the wound was charred and smoking.
It seemed a peaceful retirement would not be for him afterall.
“I’m sorry to bring your Eternal life to an end,” the queen remarked, standing over him with her Dethyr blade. “But I must send your darling Vanderain a message. Your corpse shall do just that.”
“Save…my…people,” he struggled, his mouth thick with his own blood.
“It’s okay little Eternal,” she cooed. “I know I could spare you, waste years torturing you for answers you’d never give. Instead I’ll make Vanderain come to me, made stupid in his anger. You’re to be my gift to him.”
As Glommish lay dying, he knew Akirandon spoke the truth. Vanderain would risk bloodshed against the council in order to escape their prison. He would seek revenge on Akirandon, driven by a rage no one could stop.
He hoped his trainees were safe, and that Realmers as a whole could survive what was to come. Glommish’s eyes drifted shut as Akirandon angled her sword toward his head. His last thought was a prayer, hoping the demon spawn didn’t succumb to the darkness within and that they would save the realms, not destroy them.
…TO BE CONTINUED
ANGELS AND ELVES ACT II
Coming soon