Demonsouled Omnibus One

by Jonathan Moeller

  Something less than human, and much more dangerous.

  The same fate might yet await Lucan. He felt the bloodstaff throb in his hand, reacting to the power of Ultorin’s bloodsword. Lucan might resist for much, much longer, but in the end, the bloodstaff would transform him the way the bloodsword had transformed Ultorin.

  It had already begun.

  But it didn’t matter. Once Ultorin was dead and the Malrags defeated, Lucan would destroy the bloodstaff. Its great power carried too many risks, caused too much damage to his mind. He would lose control again, kill more innocents as he had killed that druid in the Great Southern Forest. And the staff would change him as it had changed Ultorin.

  One last time.

  Lucan lifted the staff, let the maddening power flood through him, and prepared to unleash destruction upon Ultorin.

  Only to find his magic blocked.

  He frowned, probing the barrier. The Malrag shamans’ spells could not pass the warded walls of Deepforest Keep. The shamans must have raised a similar ward around the battlefield north of the gates, a ward strong and potent. But to raise a ward like that, dozens of shamans would have to work together…

  “Sir!”

  A spearman ran up to Rhodemar. “Thousands of Malrags advance up the western road! The archers cannot kill them all! Every Malrag outside the walls is making for the western road and the gates!”

  Ultorin had summoned aid.

  ###

  The battle stopped. The Ogrags wrenched away, stepping back from the great bears. The Tribe of the Bear halted, still snarling. Between them lay the bodies of slain Ogrags and slain bears, their corpses slowly shrinking back into Elderborn form.

  The sudden silence was shocking.

  The Ogrags parted, and Ultorin came forward.

  Or, rather, the thing that had once been Ultorin.

  His features remained recognizable. But the Dominiar knight had grown, and now stood nine feet tall, the bloodsword wreathed in flame and darkness in his right hand. His skin had turned the cold, pallid gray of Malrag flesh, and a maze of pulsing black veins covered his face. His arms and legs and chest bugled with huge, misshapen muscles. His ornate black plate armor no longer fit him, so he had augmented it with Malrag chain mail and plate, making him look like a half-melted statue of black steel.

  His eyes had turned yellow, like liquid sulfur.

  “Mazael Cravenlock!” roared Ultorin, his voice distorted. His teeth had become yellowed fangs, jagged and broken.

  In one smooth motion, Romaria raised her bow and fired.

  Her arrow buried itself in Ultorin’s throat. Her second arrow landed next to the second, and the third plunged into his left eye. Ultorin showed no sign of pain, no sign of annoyance. He reached to his face with a clawed hand and ripped free the arrows one by one. Black blood, smoking and sizzling, splashed across his gray flesh, and the wounds vanished in short order.

  It seemed Ultorin had absorbed enough stolen life force that he could heal wounds quickly.

  Romaria lowered her bow.

  “I remember you,” said Ultorin. “The little brigand from the hills of the Old Kingdoms.” He laughed, high and wild. “Today I shall have my vengeance upon you as well.”

  “No,” said Romaria. “Today you shall pay for your crimes.”

  “For the fire and sword you brought to Deepforest Keep,” said Athaelin.

  “For turning my son over the San-keth,” said Gerald.

  “For the murder and bloodshed you brought to the Grim Marches,” said Mazael.

  “I shall pay?” said Ultorin, still laughing. “You shall pay, Lord Mazael!” He pointed the bloodsword at Mazael. “You slew Amalric Galbraith, the noblest man who ever lived! He would have remade the world, fashioned it into a paradise of order! Instead, you slew him. But he forged this sword in his own blood, and with it I shall kill you!”

  “Amalric Galbraith was a monster and a murderer,” said Mazael, “and his blood has made you into something even worse. He was Demonsouled – it was his nature to kill, even if he was too weak to defy his own blood. But you…you are nothing, a leech gorged on stolen power. I slew Amalric Galbraith with my own hands, and I will kill you too.”

  Ultorin's misshapen nostrils flared, and his eyes crackled with rage. "Aye? You shall? Is the brigand your woman, my lord Mazael? Maybe I'll kill her in front of you first. Or I'll slay you first, and cut your carcass to pieces and make her eat them, one by one." His eyes shifted to Gerald. "And the San-keth bitch's screaming brat is yours? Ha! I'll kill the brat in front of you, I'll bite off his head and lick up his blood."

  "Like a rabid dog," said Gerald, voice colder than Mazael had ever heard it before. "And like a rabid dog, I will put you down."

  Ultorin's yellow eyes widened, until they seemed like pits of yellow flame in his face. "Kill them! Kill them! All of you, kill them!"

  The Ogrags howled and surged forward, and the great bears bellowed and charged to the battle. Ultorin came at Mazael in a run, bloodsword whirling over his head. And as he did, Mazael heard Malrag war cries coming from the road below the city's western wall.

  Ultorin had summoned reinforcements.

  ###

  Lucan cursed as he saw the black tide of Malrags swarm up the road. The Elderborn remaining on the western wall poured arrows in the horde, but there were simply too many Malrags. They reached the flat ground before the gate, racing to join the colossal melee between the Ogrags and the Tribe of the Bear. And the shape-changed Elderborn were struggling to hold their own against the Ogrags.

  If Mazael did not kill Ultorin soon, they would lose. It was as simple as that.

  Lucan ground his teeth in frustration, slamming his staff against the ramparts. If only he could unleash his powers to aid Mazael! If...

  He heard footsteps, and saw the druids crowding onto the ramparts behind the Elderborn archers, who loosed a steady stream of arrows at any Ograg that came within range. Ardanna stood at the druids' head, her golden eyes fixed upon Lucan.

  "Tainted one," said the High Druid, and Lucan felt a frisson of fear. How much did she know about him? About the bloodstaff? Even with the staff's power, he could not hope to fight off the combined power of the Keep's druids.

  Especially if the Seer took a hand.

  "The hour of victory or defeat is at hand," said Ardanna. "We must throw our efforts into the battle. Even your power, corrupted as it is, cannot be turned away. Lend us your aid to break the shamans' wards, and we shall loose our power at Ultorin himself."

  Lucan nodded. The druids began to cast spells, blue-white light shining around their staffs, and Lucan joined with a spell of his own.

  ###

  Chaos reigned below the walls of Deepforest Keep, as the Tribe of the Bear struggled against the Ogrags, and sheets of arrows fell from the walls, landing with uncanny accuracy among the gray-skinned giants.

  But Mazael saw nothing but Ultorin's bloodsword.

  They met in the midst of the chaos, Lion's azure flame straining against the bloodsword's dark glow. Ultorin had grown hideously strong and terribly fast, his sword a storm of darkness and flame. But Mazael met him blow for blow, meeting and blocking his attacks and launching one of his own. Ultorin twisted aside, but not before Lion’s cut a smoking line upon the gray flesh of his jaw. Mazael swept Lion sideways, hoping to reach Ultorin’s throat, and but his foe leapt out of reach, snarling all the while.

  The smoking line upon Ultorin’s law faded…but not quickly, not nearly as quickly as the wounds from Romaria’s arrows. Lion’s power wounded things of dark magic, and Ultorin had abandoned his humanity to become a creature of Demonsouled power.

  Lion could kill him.

  Ultorin glared, eyes narrowed to yellow slits, and then raced forward with a roar, the bloodsword flying. The sheer fury of his attack drove Mazael back, Lion flashing up and down to beat aside Ultorin’s blows. Ultorin’s bloodsword ripped across his side, the magical blade parting plate mail like cloth. It did not reach
his skin, but the blow still threw Mazael off balance.

  Ultorin surged forward for the kill, and then an arrow plunged into his side, and then another, the force of the impacts knocking him to the side. Mazael recovered his balance, and saw Romaria standing twenty paces away, her bow in hand, Gerald keeping watch over her with his shield and sword. Even as Mazael saw her, she fired two more arrows into Ultorin’s side in quick succession. Both impacts staggered Ultorin, and Mazael attacked, all his strength and weight behind Lion’s blade. Ultorin twisted aside at the last moment, but Lion opened a vicious gash across his shoulder.

  Ultorin snarled and stumbled out of reach, black blood smoking and sizzling against his armor.

  But Romaria gave him no chance to recover, and sent another arrow plunging into his side. Her arrows could not kill him, could not even hurt him very much. But every hit from her powerful bow staggered him, gave Mazael a chance to carve another wound in Ultorin’s flank.

  He stabbed, his sword slipping past Ultorin’s guard to open a smoking gash across his hip. Then Athaelin was at Mazael’s side, his bastard sword blurring. Ultorin chopped at Athaelin, bloodsword in both hands, but the ancient Greenshield absorbed the blow without even a scratch. Mazael seized the moment and opened another wound across Ultorin’s right forearm.

  Ultorin staggered back, bloodsword raised in guard, a hint of fear on his misshapen face.

  ###

  Romaria fired again, and again, shooting another arrow into Ultorin every time the opportunity presented itself.

  To her enhanced vision, Ultorin has become a thing of nightmares, his misshapen limbs filled with the stolen lives of slain Malrags, his tattered soul burning in the stolen Demonsouled power of his bloodsword. He looked like a creature of darkness and filth.

  Much the way Lucan Mandragon was beginning to look to her sight.

  But the blazing light in Lion’s blade drove back the darkness, made the shadows within Ultorin shrivel and die. And Ultorin was weakening. He could heal the wounds from her arrows, but not the gashes Lion carved in his gray flesh. Already she saw the darkness within him starting to flickering, shattered by the magic of Mazael's sword.

  They were winning.

  Romaria felt a surge of exultation and sent another arrow into Ultorin.

  Then she saw the black tide of Malrags storming up from the road, spears and axes in hand.

  ###

  “Aid me!” screamed Ultorin, stumbling back another step. “Aid me, now, I command it!”

  The nearest Ograg shuddered, its enormous white eyes blinking.

  And then, as one, every Ograg upon the field turned to look at Mazael.

  He raced forward, hoping to catch Ultorin, but the Ogrags were faster. Mazael twisted, ducking under the blow of a massive spiked mace, and stabbed with Lion. The blade bit into the towering creature's knees, and the Ograg fell with a bellow, snarling and roaring. Mazael ripped Lion across the Ograg's throat and wheeled, seeking for Ultorin.

  Ultorin raised his bloodsword and stabbed into the back of the nearest Ograg, burying the weapon to its hilt. Fiery light devoured the Ograg, crumbling the massive creature into ash and bones. Ultorin screamed in ecstasy and agony, his wounds vanishing in a surge of stolen life energy. Then he stepped back, laughing wildly, another pair of Ogrags racing past him.

  Mazael hamstrung one and dodged past another. He looked around for the Tribe of the Bear, hoping the shapechanged Elderborn could hold back the Ogrags. But the Tribe of the Bear was losing. Mazael saw a dozen of them lying slain across the rocky ground, while the survivors faced two or even three Ogrags at a time. And more and more Malrags appeared, swarming the great bears. One of the shapechanged Elderborn could face a dozen Malrags at once. But hundreds, thousands of Malrags streamed up the road, despite the unending arrow fire from the walls. The sheer press of Ogrags and Malrags would drive the Tribe of the Bear back, perhaps even force through the gates.

  Ultorin, it seemed, had kept at least a part of his wits.

  Time to fall back. With the druids' aid, they could hold the walls, and goad Ultorin into making another mistake. He had exposed himself to danger once - if he became angry enough, he would do so again...

  Athaelin grabbed Mazael's arm. "After him!"

  "We have to fall back," said Mazael, "before..."

  "No!" said Athaelin. "This is our chance to end this, to save my people! Now, kill him, before it's too late!"

  Before Mazael could answer, Athaelin sprinted forward. In the space of two heartbeats he had killed one Malrag and sent another one sprawling to the ground with a blow from the Greenshield.

  Mazael cursed and ran after him, Lion blazing brighter as he drew closer to Ultorin.

  ###

  Lucan shuddered, panting for breath.

  The Malrag shamans were too strong. Ardanna and the druids, even with Lucan's aid, had only managed to open small holes in the shamans' wards, not even enough to...

  "High Druid!" said one of the Elderborn druids. "The Greenshield!"

  She pointed, and Lucan saw Athaelin Greenshield fling himself into the Malrag ranks, hacking left and right, in pursuit of Ultorin. Mazael followed, Lion burning like a brand, while Romaria and Sir Gerald followed.

  Ardanna hissed through her teeth. "The fool man! If he falls, we are lost! Aid him, now! Cast whatever spells you can muster through the Malrag wards!"

  Lucan drew on the bloodstaff’s power, letting the raging strength of Demonsouled magic flood through his veins. For a wild moment he wanted to blast Ardanna right over the wall, to butcher the druids and the Elderborn and the spearmen of Deepforest Keep where they stood.

  But he mastered himself, and flung the most powerful spell he could manage.

  ###

  “Father!” shouted Romaria.

  For a moment Mazael thought they were finished. The Malrags closed tight around them, a half-dozen Ogrags following. Athaelin hacked and slashed through them in a whirl of masterful swordplay, the Greenshield turning aside their thrusts and swings, but more and more Malrags appeared to replace those he slew. Mazael tried to cut his way to Athaelin’s side, but there were simply too many Malrags.

  Once the Ogrags closed, it was over.

  Then green light flashed, and the ground erupted.

  Giant hands of stone erupted from the earth, reaching up to crush both Malrags and Ogrags in their implacable grip. Swirls of white mist hardened into knives of glittering ice, ripping Malrag flesh into shredded pulp. A ribbon of blood-colored fire screamed from the walls of Deepforest Keep and scythed through the enemy, cutting a score of Malrags and a half-dozen of Ogrags in half. The barrage of spells killed hundreds of Malrags in the space of a few heartbeats.

  And the path was open to Ultorin.

  Athaelin charged Ultorin with a yell, his bastard sword flying. Ultorin growled, tried to attack, but found himself driven back. Even with Ultorin’s superior strength and speed, Athaelin’s skill with the sword drove him back. The steel of the bastard sword could not kill Ultorin, but it still had the power to cause him pain, and he flinched from its blows.

  Mazael sprinted to Athaelin’s side, stabbing at Ultorin. The Dominiar knight stepped back, whipping the bloodsword back and forth in great arcs to keep his opponents at bay. Neither Mazael nor Athaelin could match the reach of the huge bloodsword, so they spread out, Mazael to Ultorin’s left, Athaelin to his right. Ultorin kept backing away, trying to keep both Mazael and Athaelin in front of him.

  Then one of Romaria’s arrows slammed into Ultorin’s belly, doubling him over. Mazael raced into the opening, swinging Lion in an overhand slash, and tore a smoking gash down Ultorin’s back. The Dominiar screamed in pain, stumbling, his yellow eyes bulging and wide. Romaria put another arrow into Ultorin’s hip, and a second into his thigh. Athaelin’s bastard sword drew a line of black blood down Ultorin’s jaw and neck, the battered black armor falling aside. Ultorin screamed in rage, but fear filled his yellow eyes as he raised the bloodsword.

 
He was beaten, and he knew it. Mazael lined up Lion for a killing blow...

  The Malrags crashed into them like a black wave, and Ultorin’s fear turned to glee.

  Mazael ducked an axe blow, and a spear point struck his hip, crunching through the armor to dig into his flesh. He pivoted and killed the Malrag that had wounded him, trying to ignore the pain in his wounded leg. Still more Malrags came at him. Mazael killed two more, and Romaria three, as she turned her attention from Ultorin to the Malrags, her hands a blur as she fired again and again.