by A. C. Cobble
Ben rolled the other way, shifting out from under the first man. The second stepped after him. Still on his back, Ben grabbed the bloody rock he’d brained the first guard with and raised it just in time to meet the descending broadsword.
Sparks and rock chips flew as steel met stone. The blade bounced to the side.
“Sorry about this,” muttered Ben.
He kicked up with all of his might. Instead of at the man’s legs, Ben aimed his foot directly in between them.
The soldier squealed a high-pitched whine and his eyes crossed. He dropped his broadsword with a clang. The soldier didn’t have armor protecting that area from below.
Ben drew his hunting knife and buried it in the man’s knee, twisting it as he yanked it back out. The soldier stumbled back and collapsed to the ground.
Ben started to crawl over to him and finish the job, but a blast of hot air reminded him Eldred was still standing. He’d let the man live for now. He stood and saw Rhys was now on the defensive, stumbling back, furiously slashing at dense tendrils of black shadow and flickering tongues of fire. The thick darkness streamed from Eldred and came at Rhys from half a dozen directions.
The rogue’s clothing was torn and bright crimson slashes marred his skin. It looked like he’d been mauled by a beast. One of the tendrils latched onto the rogue’s arm and Ben gasped. It appeared to be sucking the blood and flesh from him.
The glowing silver longsword whipped through and severed the streamer of blackness, but the injury didn’t dissipate with the smoke. A fresh river of blood flowed down the rogue’s arm.
Ben glanced around wildly and saw Towaal was still lying on her side, struggling to gain her feet. Her hair stood on end and smoke drifted away from her. Her eyes looked glazed over and dazed.
Ben cursed. They’d counted on the mage slowing Eldred enough for Rhys to get a fatal blow. Instead, Towaal and been knocked out for nearly the entire fight.
Amelie was moving, but she was gripping her leg. It was twisted unnaturally. While Ben had been fighting the soldiers, Eldred must have attacked Amelie and broken her leg.
Around them, every one of Eldred’s men lay dead except the one Ben had maimed. She’d slaughtered and drained them all. Her own men.
Ben swallowed the bile in his throat and stepped toward the dark mage, unsure what he could do. He could see Rhys had moments left, at best. The rogue was slowing, and his body was covered in sticky blood.
Ben kept moving closer, his mind racing. He drew his hunting knife, but it would be worthless against an opponent like Eldred. They needed power. They needed magic. Will and knowledge. Anything in the world was possible with will and knowledge.
An arm-thick tendril of black smoke lashed out from Eldred and caught the side of Rhys’ longsword, smacking it out of his grip. The silver runes started to fade as the weapon bounced across the rock floor of the quarry. Rhys followed it with his eyes, defeat clouding his gaze. The tendril snapped at Rhys again and he flew back, blood streaming behind him like the tail of a kite. The rogue crumpled to the ground. Corpse Eldred advanced on him.
Ben had to do something. He broke into a run.
“Ben,” shouted Amelie. “Her power is stored in the runes on her face!”
The dark mage didn’t spare Amelie a glance.
Suddenly, Towaal staggered to her feet and raised her arms. She looked frazzled, but the bewildered confusion had faded.
Sunlight streamed down, stabbing into Ben’s eyes. He held up an arm to block the light and slowed his run, halfway to Eldred.
The black smoke around the dark mage contracted suddenly as if it was burned by the intensity of the light. Eldred hunched down, bowing before the brilliance from above.
“I learned one thing from Gunther,” declared Towaal through gritted teeth. “Let me show you.”
The sun blazed brighter. Ben squeezed his eyes shut, worried he’d go blind.
When Towaal had used the light of the sun against the demons, it had been one flash. This was constant. Ben felt the heat on his skin, burning it in moments worse than an entire day out on the sea.
Eldred cackled, the sound clawing at Ben’s sanity. He smelled the musty scent of long-buried graves. He risked opening one eye and saw the dark mage facing Towaal. The light surrounded Towaal, but an evil wind was blowing against her, flapping her clothes, and forcing her to stagger back a step.
Eldred opened her mouth, and the sound of her laughter jabbed into Ben’s conscious, forcing out every other thought. Towaal faltered and fell back again. The dark mage advanced on her, ignoring the rest of the party.
Amelie was propped up on one elbow, but Ben could tell from twenty paces away that she was entirely drained. She’d already expended everything she had. Rhys was lying on his back, blood forming a wide pool around him. Ben wasn’t sure if he was still breathing.
Tears streamed down Towaal’s face, and Ben could see anguish there. Eldred was moments away from crushing her.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Ben started running again, unsure what he was going to do, but certain he couldn’t stand by idly while his friends were slaughtered. He jumped over or swerved around the refuse that cluttered the floor of the quarry. He glanced at the hunting knife in his hand then threw it down, knowing it wouldn’t be effective against the dark mage.
Eldred ignored him, solely focused on Towaal.
Then he reached her and leapt onto her back.
It was like tackling a skeleton, except the pile of bones and dried flesh didn’t go down. Eldred stumbled then straightened underneath him, fueled with dark power and possessing unnatural strength.
She tried to flip him off, but Ben clung to her like his life depended on it. Which, he realized, it did. He suddenly regretted jumping on her.
Towaal fell to one knee and Ben met her eyes.
She was spent. She couldn’t help him.
“Anything is possible,” she said, her voice a feather on the wind.
Eldred spun, trying to buck him off.
He clung tighter, looping an arm around her neck and clamping it down. The tight hold would have strangled a person, but Eldred was no longer a living being.
She grasped his arm with her bony hand and Ben felt a terrible chill seep into him. The chill of the grave crept up his arm, threatening its way into the rest of his body. Instinctively, he knew that if that chill reached his heart, he’d be dead. He hardened his will, but it only slowed the intrusive cold.
He tightened his arm, refusing to give up.
Eldred spun around again. Ben saw Amelie. Her hand was on her leg, holding the broken bone. She was struggling, trying to drag herself closer with only one elbow. Tears streamed down her face. Rhys was near her, every one of his failing heartbeats pumping the last of his life-blood out onto the rock.
Ben wouldn’t let Eldred win. He wouldn’t let her take his friends.
Knowledge and will. Anything was possible with that.
Amelie had said the corpse mage’s power was in the runes on her face. He had to destroy them, he knew that. He had to have the will to do it.
The dark mage’s bony fingers dug into his flesh, but she was brittle and frail. Her body burned with unnatural strength, but the dry bones would shatter if she applied too much force. Ben grinned grimly. She wouldn’t be able to rip him off of her. Instead, she spun again, trying to loosen his hold. He got one last look at all of his friends. Then, he wrapped his legs around the corpse’s torso and locked them together with his feet. He put his other arm around the dark mage’s head.
He felt her broken teeth sink into his arm, tearing at his flesh. Blood streamed freely, but he didn’t stop. He gripped tighter, twisted, and pulled.
The mage’s thrashing became panicked, and she slapped both hands on his arm, forcing the cold of death deeper into his body. He felt her will battering him, the unfathomable pain from earlier directed through her hands into his flesh.
He hardened his will, retreating deep inside himself. He was resolute
and determined. There was nothing he wanted in the world more than stopping the evil witch.
The sound of her voice wailed inside his head, tearing at his consciousness, but he didn’t bother to understand her. Her fingers clamped down on him. Both of his arms were numb. From the cold, the blood loss, or both, he didn’t know. He could no longer feel what he was doing.
He fought on.
He fought for Meredith, for Grunt, for Gunther, for Corinne. He fought for Amelie, Towaal and Rhys. He fought for Eldred’s men, those she’d killed and any who may still survive in the woods. He fought for Farview and Northport. He fought for Shamiil and Irrefort. He fought for everyone the dark mage had killed and everyone she would slaughter in the future.
His mind began to shut down, unable to withstand the mental assault Eldred was throwing at him. His body didn’t respond to the limited commands he was able to give it. He was a being of will and instinct, unable to do anything other than execute his function. He couldn’t think about what was happening to him, the cold taking over his body, her teeth ripping his skin. He could only think about what he had to do.
Keeping his legs locked, he arched his back, pulling with every fiber of his being.
The dark mage wailed in his head, shattering his conscious, driving out all remaining thought.
He was pure will.
His world went black. He didn’t see. He didn’t hear. He didn’t feel. He didn’t know.
Outside of his awareness, he roared like an animal. He twisted his body, biceps bulging with the strain.
With a crack, and the sound of ripping parchment, he tore Eldred’s head off.
The mage’s body stumbled, refusing to acknowledge what happened. It staggered in a slow circle and then flopped over.
Ben fell with it. He landed hard on the rocky ground, unable to relax his arms or legs. Drawing a deep, ragged breath, he felt pain cascading through his body as awareness returned. He screamed, his body ravaged by agony. He screamed until he lost his breath. Then, he lay panting.
Slowly, ever so slowly, the world returned to focus. His body burned with cold. His heart hammered within his ribcage.
Ben looked down and saw the dark mage’s head resting on top of him. He screamed again and threw the head away.
Queasily, he watched it bounce on the rock floor of the quarry, the glowing runes cut into her face fading into scars.
“Ben,” called Amelie.
He grunted, unable to form speech.
“Can you make it to Rhys?”
Cold fear shot through Ben’s body and spurred him to action.
He rolled to his stomach and forced himself up. Stumbling to Rhys, he looked down and winced when he saw his arm. His entire right forearm was white like it was frost bit. A chunk had been ripped out of it, but his flesh was numb and he couldn’t feel the wound. He was covered in his own blood from his elbow to his fingertips. Bile welled up in his throat and he swallowed it.
He was still alive. His friend had a bigger problem.
Rhys wasn’t moving. He wasn’t breathing.
Ben knelt beside him. A score of punctures marred his friend’s body, each steadily leaking blood. They weren’t pumping blood any longer. The rogue’s heart was stopped.
Ben started to push on the rogue’s chest, something he’d seen Edward Crust do once before in Farview. He knew if he could get his friend’s heart pumping again, there was a chance. Even as he thought it, he knew there wasn’t really a chance. Any blood that the heart pumped would come spurting out of the open wounds.
If he couldn’t bind the injuries, a beating heart would kill Rhys from loss of blood. Without a beating heart, his friend was already dead.
Ben had to try. He had to do something. He set his hands and compressed on the rogue’s chest.
His arm gave out the moment he put his weight on it and Ben flopped down. He didn’t have the strength in his right arm to push against anything. The cold numbed flesh was useless. Refusing to give up, Ben pushed again with his left hand. Over and over, he pressed on the rogue’s chest. Nothing was happening.
“Something’s happening,” yelled Towaal.
She was standing, wavering like a punch-drunk fighter. Ben didn’t know what she was talking about.
“We have to go,” she demanded.
“We can’t leave Rhys!” shouted Ben.
“Eldred was a repository,” snarled Towaal, “a bigger one than I’ve ever seen. Ben, the energy that was housed inside her is boiling. It’s going to release. It’s going to explode.”
Ben kept shoving on the rogue’s chest. He couldn’t leave his friend. He had to fight the right battles, and this was one he wouldn’t give up. No matter the danger.
“All of this was for nothing if we don’t get out of here!” exclaimed Towaal. “We have to go.”
“You’re a mage. Can’t you heal him?” snapped Ben.
“I’m expended,” admitted Towaal. “Surviving Eldred took everything I had. There’s nothing, Ben, nothing I can do.”
Ben looked to Amelie. She was still lying where she fell, unable to rise on her broken leg. Her look told him she was done too.
“Look at us,” growled Ben. “We couldn’t run if we wanted to.”
“You can,” insisted Towaal. “If you don’t, you’ll die.” She fell to her knees, no longer strong enough to keep her balance. “Go now, while you can. Find Jasper. Keep doing what you need to do.”
Ben shook his head. “This is what I need to do.”
“Leave us,” pleaded Towaal. “It’s what Rhys would want.”
“Eldred,” interrupted Amelie. “You said Eldred was a repository of energy. Can we use it?”
Towaal blinked. “I’m not sure… I… If I tried to absorb her power, it’d be too much. It’d rip me apart.”
“The healing disc!” exclaimed Ben. “The one Jasper gave us. Can we charge it with Eldred’s energy?”
“I-I don’t know,” mumbled Towaal.
“We don’t have anything else to try,” declared Ben. “Do it.”
He dug the disc out of his pouch and tossed it to Towaal. The disc bounced off her hands. She stooped and lifted it. Grimacing, she shuffled over to where Ben had thrown Eldred’s head. She fell to her knees and placed a hand on the desiccated skull.
The runes flared to life, glowing blood red. The jaw snapped open, and Ben jumped, but Towaal remained calm.
“Ben,” she whispered, “come here.”
“Heal Rhys first,” he demanded.
“He’s dead, Ben, but I can help you.”
Ben looked down at his friend. He wasn’t breathing. The leaking blood had slowed to a trickle.
“Hurry, Ben,” said Towaal, her voice quivering with strain, “I may be able to channel the energy through the disc, but if I hold it too long, it will destroy me. If I don’t stop what she put inside you, you’ll be dead before I am.”
Ben shook his head.
“Seal his wounds first,” he commanded.
Towaal met his eyes. Suddenly, a tingling warmth suffused Ben’s body.
“I’ll do what I can,” promised the mage.
Trembling with strain, she poured energy into the disc and directed it back out at Ben. He felt it coursing through him. It pulsed along his veins, throbbing in time with his heart.
17
Out of the Woods
Ben looked down at his scarred forearm.
“This will never heal,” he grumbled.
Amelie, sitting next to him, snorted. “It’s good to carry some scars in life. It reminds you of where you’ve been, what you’ve done, how you survived.”
“She bit me,” complained Ben. “The corpse of a dark mage using ancient death magic killed sixty of her own men and then bit me! Why do I want to remember that?”
“You did rip her head off,” mentioned Amelie. “That’s something you’ll want to tell your children about one day.”
Ben laughed. “That’s true.”
He paused.
/> “Children?”
Amelie shrugged but didn’t look at him. “Maybe they’ll think hearing you whine about your scar over and over again is attractive. I certainly don’t.”
Ben narrowed his eyes and stared at her.
“Healing energy can only boost your body’s natural abilities,” explained Towaal. “You can’t heal something that is no longer there. That chunk of your body is gone, lost in the quarry or in her stomach I suppose.”
Ben shuddered. “Do you think she ate real food and not just people’s arms?”
Towaal shrugged. “I have no idea. I have no idea how they created her, either. As I said, healing magic can’t bring back something that is gone. What the Veil did to her is dark, evil. They reanimated her and somehow brought her mind into that body, but it was twisted. I can’t imagine how filthy her soul must have been inside of there, inside of that thing. It didn’t survive on food. It survived on death. It makes me cringe to think about the number of people she murdered to sustain herself between here, Irrefort, and Hamruhg.”
Ben set down the piece of sausage he’d been eating.
Amelie saw it and grinned.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again with this arm without getting a queasy stomach.” He sighed. “I need an ale.”
“Me too,” rasped a muffled voice.
Ben turned and saw Rhys peeking out from under his bedroll.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” chided Ben. “According to Lady Towaal, you were technically dead for a while there.”
“I rest better after a few ales,” groused the rogue. “Besides, if that witch couldn’t kill me, a pint isn’t going to do it either.”
“We’ll stop at the first tavern we find,” assured Ben.
Rhys rolled over and the companions were quiet until soft snores rolled out from under the blanket.
“He’ll need weeks to recover enough to travel,” murmured Towaal.
“Should we move him to Akew Woods?” wondered Ben.
Towaal shook her head. “Maybe in a few days. For now, I think even that may be too much strain on him. We’ll need to go back there to collect supplies, though. Now that Eldred is finished, it should be safe for us. Relatively safe, I mean.”
