Demonsouled Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  ###

  Lucan dropped to one knee, exhausted, the bloodstaff a pillar of flame in his hand.

  Its power surged through him like a storm of burning rain. Yet even that power was not enough to beat back the concerted attack of a dozen Malrag shamans. Lucan knew he needed to launch an attack of his own, to strike down the shamans before they killed him. Yet it took very scrap of his strength to stave off their lightning bolts, and he had no power left to counterattack.

  He warded aside another lightning bolt, black spots swimming through his vision.

  ###

  "No," said the Seer, lifting his staff.

  Romaria saw the currents of magical power surrounding the Seer blaze with sudden strength, like a river exploding in a flash flood. A dozen Malrag shamans stood in the Garden of the Temple, and as one they turned to face the Seer, sparks of green light crackling and snarling around their fingers.

  The Malrags began the spell to summon lighting, and she shouted a warning.

  And as she did, the Seer unleashed his wrath.

  Emerald lightning fell from the skies, and the Seer made a hooking motion with his free hand. White mist swirled, and a shield of ice five feet thick appeared over their heads. The lightning smashed into the ice, blasting it to a thousand glittering shards. The Seer thrust his staff, and the storm of razor-edged shards hurtled towards the Malrags. The shamans summoned wards, surrounding themselves in shields of shimmering green light, but the spray of jagged ice ripped two of the shamans to bloody shreds.

  Again the shamans began to cast, and the Seer slammed the tip of his staff into the ground. The earth heaved and bucked, knocking the shamans over and disrupting their spells. The currents of magical power surrounding the Seer brightened even further, and giant hands of earth and stone rose from the ground, reaching for the Malrags. One of the hands closed about a shaman, and the creature exploded like an insect crushed beneath a boot. Another Malrag turned to run, and twisting roots erupted from the ground, curling around the creature, and ripped off its arms and head.

  In the space of thirty heartbeats, the Seer slaughtered all twelve of the Malrag shamans. Romaria had never seen such a display of magical prowess. Not from her mother, not from any of the wizards she had met from her travels, not from the San-keth, not from Lucan Mandragon.

  But from what Mazael had said, Malavost might have that kind of power.

  The Seer grunted and limped forward, leaning on his staff, and looked around.

  "Go," he bade her. "Our men are fighting valiantly, but Ultorin himself is coming to the gate. If we do not first secure the city, he will overwhelm us easily.

  Romaria nodded, shifted into wolf form, and raced from the Garden.

  ###

  Lucan blinked, sweat pouring off his face.

  One moment the shamans had been pounding on his collapsing wards. Then he felt a vast surge of earth magic from the heart of the city, and the green lightning simply...stopped. Someone had destroyed the shamans. The druids? No, they hadn't commanded that level of power. The Seer, most likely.

  Which meant that Lucan was now free to turn his powers against the rest of the Malrags.

  He reduced the amount of power surging from the bloodstaff, and the fiery sigils dimmed. Nausea twisted his stomach, and his head swam, but his mind was clearer. He dared not release the power entirely. He had drawn too much Demonsouled power through the staff, and if he released it now, he would collapse.

  Behind him one of the massive ladders thumped against the battlements. A dozen Malrags scrambled over, and Lucan blasted them from the ramparts with a burst of psychokinetic force.

  The spearmen fell upon the ladder's grapnels, axes rising and falling.

  ###

  Mazael killed another Malrag. Black blood caked his surcoat, and Lion's blade smoldered and sizzled with it. He had lost count of how many of the creatures had fallen to his sword.

  Ardanna and the druids had found the tunnel, the secret entrance in the city, and used their powers to seal it, ripping down the house and burying its cellar. Now Mazael, Athaelin, and the spearmen drove the Malrags back, step by bloody step, until the battle raged in the Garden of the Temple at the city's heart.

  Then a howl rang out, so fierce and terrible that even the Malrags froze for a moment.

  A black wolf the size of a small horse, her eyes like blazing chunks of sapphire, raced from around one of the massive oak trees. The wolf moved fast, a gale of black fur and flashing white fangs and claws, hamstringing three Malrags as she ran past them.

  Mazael stared at the beast, horrified.

  Romaria. She had lost control of herself. Whatever test she had faced in the Ritual of Rulership, she had failed it. Now the beast had taken control of her, and she was lost to him...

  Even as the pain ripped through his mind, the great black wolf blurred and changed, and became Romaria once more, bastard sword in hand. She cut down a Malrag from behind, took the hand from another, and gutted still a third in a vicious sideways cut.

  A half-dozen Malrags turned to face her, and Romaria shimmered into the great black wolf once more. Her jaws ripped open a Malrag throat, black blood spraying into the ground. Her claws hamstrung another, and she tore her way free of them, snapping and snarling.

  Then she blurred again, and returned to her own form.

  Somehow, Romaria had gained control of herself, subdued the Elderborn half of her soul. No - she had merged with it, become one with it, and was now even more capable of a fighter than before.

  "Fight!" roared Mazael, cutting down another Malrag. "Drive these monsters back!"

  The men of Deepforest Keep bellowed in answer, and the druids called down shards of ice.

  ###

  Sykhana ducked behind a tree, breathing hard, her hands still trembling.

  Her emotions had become a snarled tangle of grief and fear. Why hadn't she killed that woman and her child? They were nothing to her, only obstacles to sweep from her path, only human...

  Human was Aldane was human.

  Again she thought of the dead child in the burned village.

  She shoved her poisoned daggers into their sheaths and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to calm herself. She should have killed both the woman and her child. But the thought of losing Aldane, of seeing him die, was horrible beyond anything she could imagine.

  Even thinking about it was like a dagger buried in her chest.

  She stilled her shaking hands and took a deep breath. The battle still raged nearby. The druids might have collapsed the tunnel, but that didn't matter. Ultorin had tens of thousands of Malrags left. Sooner or later he would break through the walls and destroy Deepforest Keep.

  She need only hide herself until that happened, until Malavost entered the city. Then they would take Aldane to the Door of Souls, and he would live in splendor forevermore.

  Sykhana concealed herself in some bushes and settled down to wait.

  ###

  Between the spearmen, the Seer's spells, and Romaria's fury, they cleared the Garden of the Temple of Malrags in short order.

  Mazael stopped at the edge of the stone well, breathing hard, Lion burning in his fist. Dead Malrags lay everywhere, hundreds of them. He was sure that some had escaped, had concealed themselves in the lightning-damaged buildings and the cellars.

  But right now they had to deal with Ultorin.

  He heard the roaring from the northern wall and the gate.

  Romaria approached him, followed by the Seer.

  "Romaria," said Mazael, and he pulled her to him. "Gods...you're, you're..."

  "Alive?" suggested Romaria.

  "Yes," said Mazael. "And the beast. It's...you're in control of it?"

  She smiled. "I am the beast. It is part of me. I never understood that before, but I do now."

  Mazael did not understand, but he nodded. Right now, more urgent problems demanded their attention.

  Athaelin hurried over, followed by Gerald, his silver a
rmor splattered with Malrag blood, and Lucan, leaning hard upon his staff.

  "We hold the city, for now," said Athaelin, cleaning Malrag blood from the blade of his bastard sword.

  "The spearmen destroyed the ladders on the southern wall," said Lucan. He looked exhausted, and the sigils upon his staff sputtered and flickered with sullen light. Romaria gave him a hard look, her hand twitching towards her sword. "The Malrags are building more, but it will take at least another hour, I think."

  "And the Ogrags are at the gate," said Gerald. "Rhodemar sent a messenger. They are holding, for now, but not for much longer. The Elderborn archers are skilled enough to hit the gaps in the Ogrags' armor, and they've managed to keep the Ogrags away from the gate." He shook his head. "But sooner or later the enemy will charge the gate in enough numbers to break through."

  "Is Ultorin with them?" said Mazael.

  "Aye," said Gerald. "The messenger said he's stayed out of arrow range, so far."

  Mazael made a fist. "Then this is our chance to finish this. Gerald! Send one of your men to Rhodemar. Tell him to send every Elderborn from the Tribe of the Bear to the gate."

  Romaria gave him a sharp look, and then she grinned. The Seer gave him a grave nod.

  "Why the Tribe of the Bear?" said Gerald.

  "Because," said Mazael. "We can't cut through a hundred Ogrags on our own. But the Elderborn have a secret that will help us."

  "What's that?" said Gerald.

  "They're in harmony with themselves," said Mazael.

  "You have a plan?" said Athaelin.

  "Aye," said Mazael. "We're going to open the gate, go out there, and kill Ultorin."

  Gerald snorted. "Simplicity itself. What could go wrong?"

  "I shall remain here," said the Seer, "and guard the entrance to the caverns. The San-keth may try to slip into the city with the child, while you are distracted with the battle. The death of Ultorin would mean nothing, if the San-keth can open the Door of Souls and return Sepharivaim to the flesh."

  "If you see my son," said Gerald, "will you..."

  "Fear not, Gerald son of Malden," said the Seer. "If it is in my power to save your son from the San-keth and Malavost, then I shall do so."

  "Let's finish this," said Mazael.

  He ran for the gates, Romaria, Athaelin, Gerald, and Lucan following after him. Lucan stumbled as he ran, sweat dripping from his face, his dark eyes feverish and bright. The staff in his hand flickered with blood-colored light.

  "Perhaps you should rest," Mazael told him.

  Lucan gave a sharp shake of his head. "No. I will see this through to the end. A little more, and I can rest, I can...I can be rid of some things."

  Mazael started to ask what that meant, and then they reached the plaza below the gates. Hundreds of Elderborn archers stood upon the battlements, loosing endless volleys of arrows over the walls. The ear-splitting roars of the Ogrags rose over the twang of the bows. About a hundred and fifty Elderborn, all clad in cloaks fashioned from bearskins, waited before the gates.

  The Tribe of the Bear.

  Mazael stopped before them.

  "I know," he said, "that you like to keep the truth of your natures secret from humans, to keep your people safe from those who would seek power at any cost. But there is a greater threat outside the walls now. Our only chance to save your people has come, if we can kill Ultorin. Will you aid me?"

  The ardmorgan of the Tribe of the Bear, a tall Elderborn man with a gaunt face and bright golden eyes, stared at Mazael for a long moment.

  Then he nodded, and the Tribe of the Bear changed.

  One moment they were Elderborn men and women. In the next they were bears, huge bears thrice the size of oxen, with claws like swords and coats of brown fur thicker than armor.

  Bears that might prove a match for the Ogrags in hand-to-hand combat.

  "The gods have mercy," said Gerald, stunned.

  Mazael looked at the battlements, saw Rhodemar staring down at him, bow in hand.

  "Open the gates!" shouted Mazael.

  Rhodemar nodded and gave the order.

  Spearmen hurried forward, pulling on chains, and the massive gates swung open with a groan.

  Mazael strode out to face Ultorin.

  Chapter 27 - The Sortie

  Deepforest Keep occupied most of its mountain spur, but perhaps fifty acres of level, open ground lay between the city's gates and the rising flank of the mountain, dotted with worn boulders. North of the gates the slopes of Mount Tynagis rose sharply, crowned with the white ruins of the High Elderborn temple.

  Ogrags and Malrags filled the ground below the gates of Deepforest Keep.

  Four Ogrags lay dead beneath the walls, the gaps in their black armor bristling with Elderborn arrows. The rest of the Ogrags stayed out of bowshot, snarling and howling.

  Mazael saw no sign of Ultorin.

  He lifted Lion, the sword’s azure flame blazing brighter, and walked to face the Ogrags.

  The Ogrags stared at him for a moment, as if astonished that he would dare to approach them. Behind him walked Gerald and Athaelin, swords ready, and Romaria, her bow in hand.

  Mazael stopped.

  The Ogrags stared for a moment longer, and then sprang forward with a roar, the ground thundering beneath their feet.

  ###

  Lucan dragged himself to the ramparts over the gate, leaning on his metal staff.

  The Elderborn glanced at him, but made no comment. Rhodemar walked over, bow in hand, his eyes remaining on his father and sister.

  “Will you aid us, wizard?” said Rhodemar.

  “Not directly,” said Lucan. “I am almost exhausted. When I see Ultorin, I will strike him with everything I have left.”

  Hopefully it would be enough.

  The Ogrags roared and charged for the opened gate.

  ###

  The Ogrags looked like an advancing wall of black steel, or perhaps an avalanche tumbling down the side of Mount Tynagis.

  Romaria set an arrow to her bow and drew back the string. To her enhanced vision, Mazael’s burning sword looked like a weapon forged from light. And to her surprise, the ancient bronze shield upon her father’s arm and the diadem on his brow likewise glowed with magical power. The same kind of power she had seen in the caverns, and burning in the hearts of the traigs.

  Then the Ogrags were within range, and she had no more time for contemplation.

  Romaria released her arrow. The steel-pointed shaft sped forward and buried itself in an Ograg's eye. The Ograg stumbled with a bellow of rage, lifting a deformed hand to its hideous face.

  The rest came on.

  “Now!” shouted Mazael, and ran to meet them.

  ###

  Mazael sprinted for the Ogrags, Romaria, Athaelin, and Gerald following. The Ogrags showed no fear, no hesitation. And why should they? The gates to the city were open, and only four humans stood between them and Deepforest Keep.

  Then the Tribe of the Bear surged through the gates, their enraged roars even louder than the Ogrags’ terrible battle cries. The huge bears surged past Mazael and the others, moving with terrific speed, and leapt upon the Ogrags. The Ogrags were taller, but the bears were larger, with greater muscle mass, and flung the Ogrags to the ground, ripping into the knotted gray flesh with fang and claw.

  Mazael raced into the chaos. He barely came to the Ogrags’s bellies, but the enraged Tribe of the Bear held the creatures’ undivided attention. An Ograg lifted its spiked mace in a two-handed blow, and Mazael thrust, arm extended over his head. Lion’s blazing blade plunged a foot into the Ograg’s unarmored armpit, and the creature bellowed in fury.

  It turned to face Mazael, distracted…and one of the shapechanged Elderborn slammed into its side, ripping the Ograg to shreds. He risked a quick look around, and saw that the bears were winning. The Ogrags were strong, but the Tribe of the Bear was stronger. And the Elderborn archers upon the wall continued their accurate barrages, sending volleys of missiles into the gaps of Ograg armor
whenever an opening presented itself.

  Mazael scrambled atop the chest of a dead Ograg and lifted Lion over his head.

  “Ultorin!” he bellowed. “Come and face me, you dog! Come and die!”

  A roar of fury answered him, and bloody light flashed through the ranks of the Ogrags.

  ###

  Lucan felt Ultorin’s approach, sensed the vortex of corrupted power surrounding the former Dominiar knight. No doubt Ultorin had used so much of the bloodsword's Demonsouled power, had stolen the life force so many Malrags, that it had…changed him. Made him into something less than human.