Coven Master 4: (A Harem Fantasy)

by Nick Storming

  Logan was there, and yet not there. A part of him existed in Purgatory, surrounded by the chaotic melee, while another part of him, the greater part, swelled with a burgeoning power.

  The celestial energy that had once clung to and filled him so lightly, he barely recognized it beside the Fae and Earth magics, now burgeoned. Flooded with the energy, a part of him that was and wasn’t rose into the heaven’s above.

  Logan’s mind grew cold and remote as he sank deep within himself. The heavens above trembled as a throne fell. Not sure how he knew, Logan could feel the vacancy like an empty socket between his teeth. The cold part of his mind knew that if he fell here, the throne would return and all would go back as it had been, status quo maintained, but if he lived, he would be consigning hundreds, possibly millions to a fate worse than death.

  There could be no question about what he would do. The cost would be great, but he’d seen what the Gods called a healthy world. Seen the deprivation of spirit they allowed to flourish and the wreckage they left behind after playing their little games.

  The crown flashed into place on his brow, the gemstones glittering in the reflected glory from above, and a dangerous light grew in his blue eye as Logan felt the confront his true enemy approaching. Something tugged on his soul, keeping him in place as he sought to rise to meet the challenge.

  Glancing down, Logan saw the demon-child’s torn body and his heart broke. The poor creatures’ eyes stared up at him, filled with pain but no remorse. He saw another of the souls laying cut nearly in two. There was no blood from their bodies, but it was plain their injuries pained them and that they now had to spend the rest of eternity in their broken bodies.

  As the battle raged around him, Logan felt more than helpless as the souls who’d sworn themselves to his cause fell before the onslaught of dark soldiers. As the girl stared up at him, Logan felt a pressure pushing on his mind and instead of walling off the pain and hurt, he found himself drawing it in, pulling it deep within his soul.

  “My Lord… what is… it’s happening!”

  A faint golden glow shown from within the demon-child, casting light from her wounds that grew and grew until the child flashed so bright even Logan couldn’t stare and when the light faded, the child corpse was gone, and Logan felt a small shock, like hitting icy cold water and something tethered his soul to someplace outside of time and space.

  The other broken souls saw the child pass on, and awe filled their expressions a second before golden glows began to shine from the center of their bodies as well. Seven more shocks hit Logan, and he felt the weight of them settling on his mind, but at that second the heavens above parted and an impossibly beautiful figure plunged down from Heaven Above, intent on one thing and one thing alone: Killing Logan.

  Dystra slipped between the dark troops’ ranks and when her invisibility didn’t shield her from their view, a few quick slashes of her claws put the sharp eyed soldier down. As she approached the soldiers surrounding the chained-up Simon, Dystra flexed her claws and prepared to unleash her true form.

  As she was unlocking her power, Dystra heard the agonized cry in her mind as the demon-child was pin cushioned, but before her heart could break, the cry of agony changed into a sigh of ecstasy. Dystra glanced back and was nearly blinded by the bright glow but didn’t care. Tears streaming from her black eyes, Dystra was witness to the first demons in millennia, passing into the Above.

  “A miracle,” the demon breathed, then her eyes fell to Logan as he grew before her eyes.

  Somehow the fool had found a way to grant her kin absolution, paving their way to Heaven Above and not just demon’s, but a strange alien race flashed into golden light as well. Dystra saw Logan’s shoulders bow under the weight as souls flashed into ether around him, but he stood tall, unbowed, face a mask of determination as he pointed his sword towards the heavens.

  Dystra did not know what the idiot was doing. She was about to shout at the fool to defend himself and help a hard-pressed Becca and Syn. Then she felt what was falling down from Above and a terrified whimper escaped the back of her throat.

  Sammael, God of Death and Left Hand of the Almighty, was falling to join his brother in Hell, and Dystra saw her own death coming along with him.

  Chapter 26

  The gray sky parted above Becca and she was hit with a harsh white light that washed all color from the world. Mordrek had been anticipating the moment and took the opportunity of the God of Death’s fall to hack at the back of the teen’s neck.

  Becca didn’t lose focus when this strange world grew even stranger and had been ready for a strike like this. Weaving to the side she avoided the slash and slipping forward smashed the pommels of both her swords into the angry little man’s temples. Eyes rolling back into his skull, Mordrek collapsed into a heap as if his bones had become rubber.

  Turning, she sought to get close to Logan but was forced back by her friend’s sheer presence. Syn too, had been forced back, but instead of the worry Becca felt stitched onto the dark elf commander’s features, Becca saw beaming pride and confidence.

  Logan rose above them.

  His feet didn’t lift off the ground, nor did he grow, but his presence was felt as it expanded. Becca saw a flickering figure standing above them, growing towards the terrible light that fell, Excalibur shining as its glittering edge pointed heavenward.

  Like two icebergs crashing into one another, there was an inevitability to Logan and Sammael’s clash. Unable to look upwards, Becca cowered down, along with the dark soldiers surrounding her as the light above grew so white-hot, sweat popped out on her skin.

  A terrible tearing sound ripped across Purgatory, alerting every soul to the calamity about to befall them, and then the God’s lance pierced through the clouds and struck Excalibur. Logan’s shouted battle cry was felt, and not heard by every soul in Purgatory, as was Sammael’s cry of rage.

  Attack deflected the God, poured all of its rage and fury into the dark soldiers as it passed through Purgatory on its passage to Hell Below. Logan sagged in place. The colossal, ethereal figure that had hovered on the edge of Becca’s consciousness faded and her friend was left so exhausted he could barely hold himself upright.

  As Becca rose to her feet, she saw burning red dots deep within the soldiers’ eyes and felt unease settle in her guts as she watched their enervated limbs swing and swish with new skill and power.

  “He is our God,” Syn breathed, awe filling her face, even as she adjusted her grip on her spear and glanced out at the ranks pressing close.

  “No,” it was Iyllia’s tone, filled with the same awe as Syn but also more than a little unsettled. “If he was, then he’d been in Sammael’s throne right now… He is something else.”

  “He’s ours,” Becca growled, “and I’ll be damned if we’re going to let them take him from us. Now where’s that damned… ahh there she is.”

  An oily, black-skinned horror rose on its hind legs a full twelve feet into the air and hurled an enervated dark soldier through the air like it was a rag doll. A sweep of a taloned arm saw two more soldiers disemboweled, and another’s chest crushed under a quick fist.

  “We need to cut a path to Dystra,” Becca shouted over the clash of arms.

  The teen was pressed back by the weight of half dozen soldiers, but quick footwork and quicker hands saw the squad cut down before they could get at Logan. Becca chanced a glance back at her friend, and found his golden armor gone, and a black, angry wound rising across his face and chest. The black line crossed the scar over the golden eye, creating a striking ‘X’ over the eye. But from Logan’s haggard expression and the vacant look in his eyes, he wouldn’t be helping them anytime soon.

  “Syn, grab Logan, we’re pushing forward!”

  It wasn’t Syn that picked up Logan in gentle hands, but that of the giant soul who’d confronted them what felt like ages ago. More and more souls were pouring from the ranks of the watching legion, not just demons but other Fae and alien races rushed to
join the cause, screaming their fealty to Logan as they joined the clash of arms.

  Ethereal weapons appeared in the soul’s hands, but most lacked the skill to wield them properly and were cut down by the dark soldiers in seconds. But the press of numbers began to show as the tide overwhelmed the ranks around Becca, Iyllia and Syn, giving the women some breathing room.

  Iyllia should have taken charge, but the high elf, for all her training and duels, had never been in pitched battle like this. Chaos reigned around them and she found little use for her skills, reverting to hacking and slashing like a raw recruit to keep the fray back. Becca recognized the wildness in the woman’s eyes and grabbed the White Knight by her coat and yanked her forward so they were nose to nose.

  “Iyllia! This is what you trained for! See the demon?” Becca pointed over the dark ranks to the terrifying creatures tearing apart the troops guarding Simon. “Cut us a path to them!”

  Meeting those dark blue eyes, so mundane and yet to alive with passion, Iyllia felt herself nodding. Hands shifting their grips on her hilts, the high elf drew in a deep breath through her nose, matching the human girl’s rhythm as she twirled her blades and stepped into the breach two fallen souls made.

  “Goddess, Witness!”

  Unsure if the goddess heard the elf’s plea, Becca pulled Syn behind her as she witnessed the masterpiece.

  Iyllia strode forward as if she were on a parade ground. Each footfall was light as a feather and even her hair seemed to waft on a gentle, invisible breeze. Her arms spun about her, curved blades an extension of her hands, like flickering fingers that carved red wounds on the dark soldiers’ ranks wherever they touched.

  The enervated soldiers had been surging forward. Their press overwhelming the greater numbers of souls that had joined the fight, but Iyllia’s attack sent shockwaves through the troops, staggering their charge to a halt.

  Seeing that Syn had Logan and the remaining original souls were pressed close, grim expression on their hard features as they protected their new lord, or god, or whatever he was now, Becca let herself get pulled into the fight.

  Where Iyllia had stilled the dark troops with her whirlwind attack, Becca cut deep into their ranks, carving an arc of death around the White Knight that broke the elf out of her reverie. As Becca sank into the dance, finding it’s rhythm and tempo perfectly matched for the chaos erupting around them, Iyllia joined her and the two spun such destruction that the unholy ranks broke.

  “I can’t break the chains!”

  The plaintive cry came from the once again shrunken Dystra as she tugged on the heavy black chains. Becca raced across the field to join the demon, eyes scanning for threats still, but finding only the back of dark troops as they fled across the cracked plain and into the endless warren of Purgatory.

  “It must be me,” Iyllia said, striding forward and sheathing her gore covered blades. Sweeping a hand down her face, she wiped off a sheet of black blood and nearly retched before bending over the complicated knot of chains.

  “What did you do to her?! She sacrificed herself for you!”

  Becca turned from watching Iyllia work to find Dystra several feet taller than she had been a second before and corded with powerful muscles. The seven-foot-tall demon flexed powerful claws and looked ready to tear Logan’s head off, even if she died on Syn’s spear to do it.

  “What are you talking about?” Becca asked, “Can’t this wait?”

  “NO!” The vehemence in Dystra’s voice gave Becca pause, and she turned to confront the demon, the tips of her swords hovering up as she edged closer to Logan.

  Pity, I was just beginning to like her, Becca thought to herself as she planted her back toe and set herself to cut the demon’s head off before she had a chance to grow any more powerful. How’d she do that anyway?

  “Heaven,” wheezed a faint voice from behind them, and Becca turned a half-second slower than Dystra, who raced over to Simon’s side.

  The boy no longer looked as chubby as he once had, and his face looked wane and exhausted, but there was the same burning intelligence in his eyes Becca had come to recognize, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Simon, you’re alive! Work faster, bitch!” Dystra spun and screamed at the high elf who ignored her and continued pulling the heavy chains through the lock. Whenever she released the device, it would begin to tighten again, but seemed easy to disentangle.

  “She’s going… cough... as fast as she can…” Simon wheezed again. A small smile worked its way onto his lips as the demon shrank down to her hideous self once again, and his dark little eyes traced the angles and ridges with a look that could only be described as loving. Becca thought it was cute, and repulsive at the same time, wishing the two all the best, and hoping she’d never have to hear or see anything about it again.

  “What did you say earlier?” Becca asked. “Syn, get us out of here.”

  Chapter 27

  The dark elf nodded and began digging in Logan’s pockets. The man’s eyes were still wide open and vacant, but Becca was pleased to see he was breathing easier and there was color returning to his cheeks. She hoped he returned to normal on his own but wanted to get him to Gwen as soon as possible.

  “Ahh the child…” Simon said, shifting to his knees as the last of the chains began to fall away. “Logan sent her to heaven… It isn’t the Gods Realm, but they like to think it is and they’re really mad at Logan for what he did. Some of them are. One of them was really mad, and he took it out on Logan, but I think he’s just mad at his dad, like most men are.”

  “That’s impossible,” Iyllia, Syn and Dystra glanced at one another, unsure who’d spoken the thought each of them had, aloud and their eyes returned to Logan.

  “We can sort it out when we’re back. Dystra, you good? Simon?”

  “Simon leaves with me, human,” Dystra growled, grabbing at one of the boys’ soft arms with a black claw and pulling him away from the group as he staggered to his feet for the first time. “She’s already attacked him once, and we’re going to safety before something worse happens!”

  Becca saw arguments form on the lips of Iyllia and Syn, the dark elf going so far as to shift her spear into a throwing position, but it was Simon who quieted the demon’s temper as he patted her claw with a sad but kindle expression.

  “Your home is less safe than mine, now. Your Goddess is lost, yes?” Dystra’s eyes widened, and Becca saw anger register as she sought for a lie, but the anger fell away before Simon’s wise and odd eyes. “Logan will find her, she’s with the grail. Align with her Goddess, too.”

  He pointed at Iyllia without looking, and the woman got a haughty look.

  “You’re misinformed, human. Our Goddess resides within Grove Temple. Any of the People who wish may commune with her. I myself have visited many times.”

  “Elixirs, illusions, and a talented Faerie,” Simon said with a little shrug. He didn’t seem to register how offended he’d made the high elf, and Becca saw the White Knight look down at the magical lock in her hands with a contemplative frown. “Sister Deep grants powers to her followers, even in her once diminished form. What do the high elves gain from their powerful, present Goddess? Nothing… because she’s a fraud.”

  “Fraud!?”

  “The portals opening!” Syn’s shout couldn’t have come any sooner, as far as Becca was concerned.

  “Everyone through!” Becca said, turning her back to the portal as it opened and watching the souls standing nearby with some trepidation.

  They’d all fought for Logan, or most of them had, but she had no idea what that meant. Nor did she know what would happen if one of them tried to pass through. Backing through last, she felt the sheet of a magic pass over her and her heart sank a little.

  Back to the boring world, she thought to herself as she sheathed her blades and turned to find Simon’s mom blubbering as she hugged him and the witches fussing over Logan.

  “What happened?” Evelyn asked, her pale blue eyes wide with co
ncern as she took in the black wound across Logan’s face. “It’s only been five minutes in this world…” the witch took in the layers of dust and caked in dirt on their features and shook her head. “How long were you over there?”

  “Days? Weeks?” Becca shrugged and fell onto the couch beside Syn, “Hard to tell.”

  “You five need rest,” Gwen said, standing from Logan and pushing back her pale blonde hair. “My sisters and I will see to Lord Logan. Eris, could you help Dawn make up pallets and beds for everyone? I don’t think anyone should leave just yet, until we understand what’s happened.”

  “If you think I’m staying in this hovel a second longer than necessary-.”

  Meryl’s angry screed cut off when Becca rested a hand on the dark elf’s and patted it gently.

  “I love you dear, but not now, eh? Just let me rest for a few hours… yawn… then you can caterwaul all you want.”

  “Sleep then,” Meryl said with uncommon gentleness as she pushed the teen’s dark brown-haired back from her face, “You brought him back to us again, my Lancer… thank you.”

  “Mhmhmm,” Becca sank into darkness, aided by the sage’s silent spell.

  Hours later, when Logan had finally succumbed to the sleep of mortals, the witches retired to Eris’s lab, where she pulled out her notes, reading through them for her sisters.

  “What does this mean?” Gwen asked, her fingertips trembling as she held them before her bottom lip, “Are the elves right about him?”

  “Eris?”

  “I don’t know… I don’t even know where to begin to start testing for it… and now I’m afraid of what I might unleash by accident.”

  “This might answer some questions,” Evelyn said thoughtfully, tapping at her chin with one long nail, “Eris, what if you shifted your research from our Lord’s blood and onto other… components?”