by Lakshman, V.
When Silbane did not intervene, Ash drew the blade and held her aloft, high above his head. Her clear light erupted from the green gem, illuminating the landing, making the surrounding areas translucent to their sight. Nothing appeared to be lurking within the stone.
"We should make for one of the exits," said Alyx. "Our men will be there."
"You will die before you get ten paces," remarked Duncan. "There is no escape. Your mundane weapons are useless against these foes." He looked at the sergeant, "As for the soldiers of Bara’cor, they have likely been taken."
"What do you mean?" asked the king.
Duncan turned a scathing gaze upon the king, who took an involuntary step back, startled by its vehemence. "The coward king still breathes good clean air. Galadine, your death cannot come too soon. Only my Oath intervenes."
Ash and the sergeant moved to stand between the two, their swords at the ready.
Duncan ignored them and faced the king, nodding to the bow strapped across his back, "Valor, a weapon that enjoys killing as much as the one who wields it." When the king stared at the mage uncomprehendingly, Duncan continued, "The last I saw your bow, it held an arrow sighted at me and my wife, just before a Galadine used it to execute her."
Silbane stepped in, his tone mollifying, "This is not the same king who took her away from you. That man has been dead for over ten generations."
Duncan continued to stare, his gaze never leaving the king’s bow, reliving the moment when Sonya had sacrificed herself to protect him. When he answered Silbane, it was with a hint of unbalanced laughter, a teeter on the edge of a mental precipice, but quickly recovered.
A calm settled over him then and he said, "I took the oath and will not harm him, but I do not have to enjoy a craven’s company." He spat on the king’s feet and moved away without another word.
"Then answer me," said Kisan, drawing Duncan’s attention. "What do we do now?"
Duncan looked at the young master and said, "Baalor is here, waiting for us to move. The Way is proof against their ability to possess, as are enchanted weapons such as Valor. If you have neither, you are nothing but prey for them. Our only chance is to make for the Gate. Bara’cor is lost."
The king shook off the hesitation and surprise that had come from Duncan’s verbal attack and responded, his voice strident, "I will make for the Gate regardless, with or without you."
With disdain in his voice, Duncan looked back at the king. "You are an imbecile, from a long line of dim-witted tyrants. Your only skills are war and death, and saving your own skin." He turned, ignoring any answer the king might have had, and said, "Lord Baalor, this hiding ill becomes you."
A voice like stone grinding on stone answered Duncan, "Well said, Lore Father. I grow weary as well."
Silbane looked at Duncan with surprise, asking, "You know him?"
Duncan nodded. "You know him, too."
Silbane shook his head, ready to deny this, but Duncan continued, "He is the Lord of Lightning, his emblem graces that cretin’s shield." He nodded at the king’s shield and the double lightning bolts framing the Galadine lion. "The Old Lords faced him before, over two hundred years ago, when Lilyth was first defeated."
* * * * *
The air in front of the group darkened, then coalesced into the form of the assassin. It bowed once, palms to forehead, but before anyone could move, a frantic crackle of lightning and power flowed from the ground, up and across it.
In response, Baalor began to change. The builder’s body grew, rippling as muscle and sinew reknit, responding with ease to the will of the Way and the Aeris lord’s command.
Baalor chose an ancient form, a juggernaut armored in black metal, polished to an almost pearlescent hue. He stood almost ten feet tall, a battlefield behemoth armored in pure ebonite, the black metal gleaming in the flickering light of the few remaining torches.
He drew a breath, as if drawing in the very substance of the air around him, then his eyes opened, crackling blue from behind a black helm. He clenched his bare hands then smashed them together with the ring of metal striking metal.
"It has been long since I have matched myself against a Galadine lord," Baalor said. "Come, let us see who is still worthy of his name."
Silbane and Kisan blocked the Aeris lord’s way, and Silbane said, "You will have to be satisfied with facing us. Not quite so noble born, but we should do."
"Make your way to the Gate, but carefully," Kisan told Yetteje. "We will follow when we can."
Yetteje looked at Kisan with wide eyes, clearly afraid of the prospect. "No. We will not make it without you."
The master looked at the young girl, then said, "You remind me of someone I once knew." She smiled, and added, "Stand firm. Either way you’ll learn something."
Baalor looked down at the throng before him. He could see Tempest shining from the blade held by another man and scowled at the thought of meeting the kinslayer again. A reckoning was due, he thought with anger.
In addition to this, the one who had spoken, the Old Lord, something was wrong with him. His power lay muffled, held captive. The rest were inconsequential, food for the army of Lilyth long before night fell, no matter what Baalor did.
Baalor held himself as a warrior first, yearning for the test of battle. The deaths of those he had entombed within Bara’cor’s walls were reserved for the ones who did not dream. These few, however, deserved his full attention and he stepped forward and saluted them again, palm to forehead followed by a downward sweep. "I come to test the dreams of the Galadine who holds Bara’cor. The rest are the Lady’s concern, not mine. Stand ready, for I give no quarter and ask none."
From behind Silbane, Duncan said, "Release me. I will fight with you."
Silbane ignored him, addressing Baalor again, "I am Silbane, and seek to recover my apprentice. Lord Baalor, we have no quarrel with you. We make our way to the Gate and to your master. Can we not avoid this confrontation?"
Baalor looked at this one closer, for the Way flowed with strength through him. He was powerful, and that thought made Baalor wary, for it spoke to the fact that he was ascended with a powerful Aeris lord, perhaps even a celestial. His deep voice sounded like gravel when he said, "You must answer to the Eye of the Sun. To pass me, surrender the Galadine."
The king began to step forward, but Ash and Alyx interceded, and Ash said, "We’ll not! Bring your worst." He looked back at the king and said, "You heard him. They mean to kill you. Do not sacrifice yourself needlessly."
The god encased in ebonite smiled at that. "It is sooth, for you carry the kinslayer. Breaking her will be a pleasure."
* * * * *
I never liked him, said Tempest to a surprised Ash. It will be pleasure to taste his blood again.
What? asked the new firstmark. Tempest sounded almost hungry.
He is an Aeris lord of great power. Releasing him will make us stronger, beloved.
Ash could not comprehend everything Tempest was saying. What was an ‘ayris?’ Now it seemed more important than ever he speak with one of the adepts, but he had to first pay attention to this battle. He surveyed the scene. Perhaps this creature was more dangerous than the three assassins they had faced earlier, but he hardly seemed insurmountable.
Baalor stepped back. Lightning crackled around him, its tang flavoring the air with a coppery taste. White power arced and flowed from the stones surrounding him, then coalesced into a shield of lightning. Power continued to flow, flashing across his ebonite armor in blue-white arcs that left purple afterimages in Ash’s eyes.
Eons ago the people of Edyn had worshipped him as the god of lightning and in that, they had been correct. Baalor commanded the power of storms, a living god who once again walked this world.
Ash sighed, correcting his earlier overconfidence. I guess nothing is easy today.
Do not worry, beloved. I will protect you.
No! You will not use my friends.
The sword seemed frustrated and Ash could almost see her wi
th crossed arms, angry at his stubbornness. Still, he held his will inflexible, and finally she replied, Very well.
The adepts’ flameskins erupted, orange for Kisan and yellow for Silbane, dancing up their forms in protective sheathes. The rest of the party drew weapons and spread out, knowing this creature stood between them gaining the Gate, and rescuing Niall and Arek.
Baalor looked down at the group and held up a hand. "Hold." The Lord of Storms clenched his fist and the torc on Duncan’s neck shattered into a thousand pieces.
"I remember much of the strength of the Old Lords," said Baalor, "and would see it again for myself."
* * * * *
Duncan breathed in deep. Pure power, no longer restricted by the metal collar, flooded his senses, returning the caress of the Way and healing him. His sight grew, magnified, drinking in all the details of the moment. He could see with a kind of clarity he had never realized he had until he’d lost his connection to the Way. It suffused him and he felt stronger than a hundred men. He looked at Baalor, bowed, and said, "I thank you, sir."
Baalor stepped away from the group, backing up slowly. "I would face equals in battle, mortal," his deep voice boomed.
Silbane and Kisan looked at each other, clearly not knowing what to do. Duncan had his powers and could easily side with Baalor, making things difficult for them.
But I will not. I gave my bonded oath and it requires I do not leave you. Let us face Baalor together, Duncan mindspoke.
Both adepts heard him and realized they had little choice. Baalor was not going to wait. Then battle was upon them and they had to trust Duncan meant what he just said and his moment of clarity would last long enough to matter.
Baalor ran forward, shaking the ground with every step, his arm reaching behind him in a fisted grip. In that grip appeared a mace of power, lightning dancing along its length. He swung it at Silbane, who jumped up and over the Aeris lord, landing lightly behind him.
Kisan moved in quickly, striking two blows to the armor, resulting in a flash of orange fire, but little else. She ducked under the swing of the mace, then leapt backward to land well out of its reach.
Bernal had scrambled to the left, unslinging Valor in one smooth motion while Baalor turned with him as if he were a lodestone connected to the king. Two arrows a heartbeat apart sped at the demon warrior, the shafts true to their mark. They bit Baalor in the neck and shattered against his lightning shield.
Yetteje and Alyx had gone right, quickly scrambling out of the way of the first swing. The creature turned to follow the king, putting its back to the two. Yetteje didn’t hesitate. With her newfound combat sense, she dove in, stabbing with her sword. The blade skittered and sparked off the ebonite armor, forcing her to duck and roll as the creature swung a backhanded blow with its mace.
Alyx had been half a step behind Yetteje, trying to get a clean blow in on the creature’s flank. She saw an opening and swung her blade. To her amazement, her weapon went through Baalor’s leg without touching him, as if he were made of mist. She fell back a step and riposted, with the same result. Her sword could not touch the storm god.
Baalor seemed to be ignoring her, instead focusing on Yetteje, perhaps because her attack had somehow connected with the demon. When Alyx saw the mace heading for the unprotected princess, she didn’t hesitate and threw herself forward, catching the blow on her shield side. Had she been carrying a shield, she may have fared better.
The lightning mace hit the sergeant with a flash of white and a detonation that could be felt, hurling her across the room to fall in a crumpled heap against one wall. Dark, sinuous smoke began to cover her body, entering her through every opening, even the very pores of her skin. She could do nothing to stop it, as she was merely prey for the Aeris, just as Duncan had warned.
Ash dodged the first mace blow and the second, rolling to Baalor’s front and stabbing upward. Tempest bounced off the armor and Baalor roared in fury. He swatted downward with the mace, missing Ash’s head by less than a hand’s width and cracking the stone of Bara’cor in a radial pattern like a spider's web.
Pure power arced from the outstretched hands of Duncan and struck Baalor like lightning, bolts of pure energy blasting into the ebonite with a crack that shattered the air. Each strike drove the demon farther back, exploding against his armor in flashes of white and blue.
Baalor went to one knee. "Good," the demon said. "I had thought the old ways forgotten."
Then the demon heaved up and stone blocks the size of a man’s body launched themselves at the king, Duncan, and the two masters. They scattered as the blocks exploded against the walls and ground, filling the air with dust and pulverized rock.
"But you attack me with an old friend," the gargantuan Lord of Storms laughed, then moved forward again as Duncan’s lightning arced harmlessly across Baalor’s armor.
* * * * *
Yetteje watched wide-eyed, crouched low to one side, and for the moment it seemed, forgotten. Alyx had saved her, but where was the sergeant? She felt a cold hand on her shoulder and turned to look.
Behind her stood Sergeant Alyx Stemmer, but her eyes blazed an unearthly white. Black smoke moved down the arm of the thing that had once been a soldier of Bara’cor, and came toward her. Yetteje screamed and jumped back, but the demon sergeant scrambled forward like a predator.
"Nothing dies, mortal. They serve," it said with an almost reptilian hiss.
Yetteje came to her feet, her blade ready. At first, she felt an unreasoning terror, but something washed it away. She faced the creature who had once been her friend and an anger began to rise, anger that once again someone close to her had been taken away, and anger at herself for fearing it.
She focused her anger and held the demon’s gaze. It hesitated, as if sensing something had changed. Yetteje felt time slow, a bubble of calm surrounding her in the midst of the battle against Baalor. She looked at her friend and in a small but determined voice asked, "Alyx, can you hear me?"
The demon that was Alyx paused, its face contorting as a struggle raged within its body. It clawed, then scratched at itself. "You cannot be freed," it said in a guttural voice, but it did not seem to be talking to Yetteje, rather to itself.
Yetteje didn’t know what to do. She had killed that other creature, only to find out she had in fact killed a defender of Bara’cor. The demon within him had simply escaped and all she had accomplished was to kill someone unfortunate enough to have been possessed. Now her friend, Alyx, had been taken. She didn’t want to kill her too.
"Let my friend go," she demanded, taking a step forward. "You can’t have her."
The creature seemed to stop struggling with itself for a moment and Alyx’s eyes returned to normal from their blaze of white. "Princess... give no quarter," she said in a voice struggling for control. "Strike true."
Then whatever was left of the sergeant disappeared and the creature dove forward in a flash of power and strength, claws and fangs bared, directly for Yetteje’s face.
The princess’s reaction was almost automatic, as if something else controlled her. She moved in a blur, cutting through the sergeant’s outstretched arm, then her neck in a smooth figure eight motion. The body toppled, going to its knees before falling to the ground.
Yetteje could see the black smoke flow out like blood, seeping into the ground, disappearing into the cracks, just like it had before. A small sob escaped her, but the lesson her friend had taught her on the wall had not been forgotten. In the end, she had done what she had to do to survive. Now, she thought with remorse, she would have to live with it.
* * * * *
Bernal ducked out of the way of the tumbling stone and launched two more arrows. Both shattered without effect. He then saw Yetteje cut down Sergeant Stemmer, whose eyes had blazed white. A horrible realization that each of them who fell would become one of these demons dawned on him. Worse, the one known as Baalor wasn’t hurt, not yet. His heart told him it would only be a matter of time before this demon lord and
his brethren possessed them all.
* * * * *
The mages had decided to take a chance and use their mindspeak to communicate their strategy instantly between them. Duncan launched another blast, but this time using fire. Both Silbane and Kisan blurred into motion and struck the spot of the fireball’s impact with timed punches detonating with force.
These pushed the demon back, but did no appreciable damage to the ebonite armor encasing his body. Furthermore, while mindspeaking made their strategy instantaneous and therefore difficult to defend against, it also burned through their reserves of energy at a prodigious rate, and they all knew it.
The mace struck again, barely missing Silbane and catching Kisan a glancing blow. Her flameskin erupted in an orange flash, protecting her from the worst of it, but hurling her to land near Yetteje, who scrambled over to her and cried, "They took Alyx!"
Kisan looked at the princess and the body that lay near, then rolled to her feet. "If I fall, do the same for me." She gave her a quick, reassuring smile, then sped back into the fray.
More black shapes entered the chamber, a ghostly audience, waiting for the chance to enter one of them should they succumb to Baalor’s might.
A second smash of the mace and Duncan and Silbane found themselves tossed into the air. Duncan fell in a heap, but Silbane twisted, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. They had numerous cuts from flying shards of stone, but were otherwise unhurt, an amazing piece of luck considering Duncan did not have the advantage of a protective flameskin.
Silbane looked at the other, who absentmindedly wiped blood from a cut on his forehead out of his eyes. "How did you kill them," Silbane asked, "in the old days?"
"We didn’t." Duncan blinked more blood away, then said, "We had warriors trained for this."
"Bladesmen," Silbane stated matter-of-factly. "Why am I not surprised?"
* * * * *
Ash moved in between strikes, knowing blocking the mace was impossible. He dove in and stabbed at the knee joint, a small opening in the ebonite. Tempest plunged in, but seemed to have little effect.
