by Sarah Kent
Aslan and Blane were moving so fast no human eye would ever see them as they tore through the demons and commanded the wind and thunder.
Melchior knew he should feel something, some triumph in his victory. But he just felt the familiar emptiness.
But something was wrong. The Dark Lord. Melchior scanned the battle for him, but he knew that he was not there. He would have felt his heavy presence if he was around. His eyes flashed over the horizon. Then dropped to the forest below. He felt something there, a darker, heavier feeling as his focus moved through the trees and plants.
But it was too faint for him to grab hold of.
He frowned, shaking off a feeling of dread as Shara stopped before him. The goddess was like a serpent now, her skin green and shimmering as her long red hair snaked around her with fangs. Melchior had to use every inch of his self-control not to leap back away from her. She was pure terror.
“He’s not here,” she hissed. Her eyes yellow with rage.
He shook his head.
“I sense that too.”
She threw her head back and let out of high scream, then turned and dived back into the fight like a mad, avenging demon.
Melchior drew higher now, floating above the melee as he hung silent and watching over the chaos. Then he felt him. Close by. He stilled, focusing all his attention on the pulse. The Dark Lord was concealed, but he was nearby. Not in the forest as his life pulse was weaker. He was inside.
Melchior froze. He was inside the tower.
The knowledge hit him like a physical blow.
He had come for Beth.
He turned and dove for the ground.
CHAPTER 16
Beth lay on the cold stone waiting. She did not have to wait long. She knew the second he had emerged from the earth. He rose from the forest floor in the centre of the Cathedral like a whirl of dust that took form. His red eyes glinted as he glided across the floor towards her.
The Dark Lord Niyan. Night after night he had tied he to that stone and cut her until the very life drained out of her. She had fought him her entire life in her sleep. The weight of the realisation flooded her. This was her destiny. For 26 years she had lived in her own world, all alone with only her night visions to keep her company. She had never known the love of parents, or the touch of a mother. In a twisted way she knew this creature better than any other person.
Finally she knew what all of it meant. The thought of it brought her peace. She was meant to do this.
He moved towards her through the space, a tiny dark creature shrouded in a hood. She knew he was evil, the rank smell of it washes off him in waves.
His black eyes raked her flesh. Beth shrank back against the cold stone, trying to crawl inside herself, save herself from the waves of putrid hate coming towards her.
She knew just a single touch will contaminate her, poison her forever. He was evil. Disease.
Dreamwalker. He said, moving above her.
Flesh of my flesh. You are finally mine. The last one.
And you have brought him to me.
Soon a great dagger of stone was going to descend, slicing her torso open as her lifeblood runs down the altar and into the earth below.
She was helpless, about to die. Great hot tears ran down her face.
No frikking way I will die here tonight, she thought.
Her fingers moved into the loose skirt and closed on the dagger. She held it tightly as he moved closer, so close now she could feel the icy breath coming from the hole of his mouth. She watched as he lifted his arms, the stone dagger in both hands.
Her hands were steady and focused as her eyes flew open. With a scream of rage she sat up and plunged the dagger straight into his chest.
The Dark Lord froze and the stone dagger fell from his hand, clattering onto her legs. Beth did not wait around. Whirling she launched herself off the altar and hit out for him with a bone-shattering kick. But the little guy was faster than her and in a puff of air he moved beyond her grasp. A deafening shriek filled the cathedral. The tiny figure grew in size as the scream grew louder, filling the air with its rage. Beth shrunk back covering her ears. She knew she needed to grab a weapon, but the deathly pitch of the rising sound froze her. It ripped into her and stripped all though from her mind, and all movement from her limbs. It was making her blood run cold. It was a deathly, dread horror of a noise, and Beth felt a warm spurt as blood ran out of her nose and down her lip.
With an unholy flash of red light he launched himself at her across the room and Beth knew that she was facing the end. She had thought she could would outwit him, but all along she had know that she may lose this fight. But in a way she had nothing to lose. Her only regret was losing Melchior and his green eyes that saw into her soul.
The death she had foreseen all along was finally upon her.
Beth closed her eyes.
Then a hand grabbed out for her, shoving her out of the way of the charging figure.
Melchior stood there, his hair blazing with fire and a massive sword outstretched in his arms. She watched as he stepped in front of the charging figure and with a great swing of the blade, he cut off its head.
Beth staggered to her feet as he swung around to face her. God he was wild. His sheer power almost stopped her heart. His proud eyes were wild, raging green orbs that Beth could see held the knowledge of ages in them. He walked towards her, his face a riot of rage and concern as he scanned her face, then wiped the blood from her mouth with his hand.
Then he dragged her into his arms.
CHAPTER 17
They stood in the silence of the Cathedral holding each other when Beth sensed a presence. Standing before her was a tall austere man, his white robes floating behind him as he seemed to float a few inches off the ground. She felt Melchior tense before he turned and faced the man.
“Priest,” he said.
The man nodded.
“Warrior Lord,” he replied.
Beth tried to inch away, but Melchior arm tightened around her, holding her close to his side.
The Priest’s eyes moved to her.
“Dreamwalker,” he said.
Beth smiled at him.
“Beth Price,” she said putting out her hand.
“Beth Price,” he said, ignoring her hand but focusing his full attention on her.
“You came here today to kill the Dark Lord.”
Beth nodded.
“It wasn’t planned or anything,” she said. “It just happened in a way. I just knew what I had to do.”
She felt Melchior tense beside her as the Priest held her gaze. He nodded.
“That is a great sacrifice.”
Beth swallowed. “It was what I had to do,” she said.
“A great sacrifice,” he said again.
This time Beth just nodded.
“And sacrifice must be rewarded. It is the way of the Gods,” he said.
“You may return to your life and we will shield you from others like him as long as you live on this earth.”
Beth stood for a moment as his words sunk in.
Then before she could speak she heard the door open behind her and footsteps. Without turning she knew it was Shara and the other two. Shara stalked over to the small pile of ash on the ground. Then she turned to the altar. The stone dagger lay on it, fallen where it had dropped from the Dark Lord’s grasp. They all watched in silence as she picked up the dagger, and ran it reverently gently over her cheek. Her eyes flicked to the figure lying crumpled on the ground. She walked over and dropped to her knees. Then raised her arm and brought the stone down on the form. With a sizzle the body burst into flames. It was blazing like a bonfire when she finally rose. With a slight bow to Melchior, she took the dagger and slid it into her pants.
The Priest cleared his throat and they all spun around, noticing him for the first time.
She heard Blane let out a low curse, and then the thud as they all dropped to their knees.
Beth turned her attention back to
the Priest.
She stepped forward.
“Thank you for your kind offer,” she said. “But may I ask for a different reward?”
She heard Melchior let out a low breath. The Priest raised an eyebrow.
“What is it you want?” he asked.
“I want Melchior,” she said.
As she spoke she felt him tense, and his arm dropped from her side. Not daring to even look at him she pressed on.
“I want to stay with him, and to be with him in every way.” She drew herself up and looked the Priest straight in the eye.
“I want his curse lifted.”
The air was thick and still in the Cathedral. Nobody moved. Beth could scarcely breathe. But she held his eye.
The Priest held her gaze for a long time. H seemed to suck in his cheeks, then his gaze shifted to Melchior. He inclined his head.
“Your wish is granted Beth Price,” he said.
In a flash of light he shot into the sky. Behind him the glowing embers of the Dark Lord drifted up as if reaching towards the heavens before they died out, and floated gently back to the floor. Nothing more than fine gray ash.
Beth lifted her face to her scarred lover. She knew she must look like holy hell. The blood from her nose had drenched the front of the beautiful gown that was ripped and shredded like a rag.
He looked equally grim, his hair was matted with blood from the battle and his shirt torn half off his broad chest. But he looked down at her with a look of blazing desire in his eyes. A grin spread across his dark face, almost taking her breath away with its beauty. Her heart was so vulnerable she felt as if he could destroy her with a word. But she cocked an eyebrow at him. She swallowed. She had laid her heart, and her life, on the line for him.
“I guess I should have asked you if you wanted me first,” she said. He nodded.
“Perhaps you should have,” he said.
Her breath caught in her throat.
“But I think you know the answer,” he continued as he stepped closer with a low growl. He bent his head and put his mouth against her ear. His voice low and thick with emotion.
“Beth, do you know what you are doing here? If you want me, if you want to stay with me you will be walking away from your life. There is no going back. Not ever.”
Beth’s breath caught in her throat. Her voice was low but clear as she lifted her hand to his chest. She nodded her head.
You know what you are Beth Price,” he breathed.
“You are mine. Forever.”
