Soul of Swords (Book 7)

by Moeller, Jonathan

  But even as the thought crossed her mind, she looked down and saw the shattered bones pull themselves together, the torn flesh sealing itself shut. Her legs and chest burned with pain as the bones forced themselves back into position, but the agony receded with every heartbeat.

  An instant later she was whole again, and she climbed back to her feet, puzzled.

  Her Demonsouled blood was stronger here, just as Morebeth had said. Strong enough to heal near-fatal wounds in a matter of moments.

  And strong enough, perhaps, to allow her to travel through the shadows, even with the Glamdaigyr’s constraining aura?

  Then a snarling cone of yellow-orange fire erupted from the wall, rolling across the floor and devouring the Demonsouled in its path.

  Molly saw Riothamus disappear beneath the flames.

  ###

  Riothamus felt the power build up, his Sight detecting the harsh glimmer of gathering magic.

  He cast his own spell as a river of fire erupted from the black wall, rolling towards him in a massive wave. Riothamus slammed the staff of the Guardian against the floor, and a curtain of white mist rose up before him, hardening into a wall of glistening ice. The flames struck the conjured ice, and both fire and ice devoured each other in a plume of steam, the hiss loud enough to briefly down out the roar of battle.

  “Skalatan,” whispered Riothamus as the hot wind whipped around him.

  It was a clever plan. The San-keth archpriest need only lurk at the fringes of the battle, letting his foes destroy each other and attacking those who faltered. And once the battle was over, Skalatan could destroy the victor and claim the Demonsouled power for himself.

  Another blast of flame erupted from the wall, and Riothamus cast a spell.

  ###

  For a moment Mazael froze, as did the Old Demon and Romaria.

  A blast of flame lanced across the Chamber of Blood and slammed into a wall of ice, a roaring plume of steam rising overhead. Hot winds howled through the chamber, tugging at the Old Demon’s robes, followed by another blast of flame, and then another.

  The Old Demon laughed.

  “That miserable old serpent,” he said. “He thinks to destroy me with that toy? How amusing! After I finish with you, I’m going to enjoy settling with him at last.”

  The Glamdaigyr whirled for Mazael, and he ducked under the blurring strike. Romaria lunged, her bastard sword glimmering with Lion’s flames, and the Old Demon danced aside. Mazael saw an opening and stabbed with Lion, reaching for his father’s heart.

  The Old Demon winked, and disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

  He reappeared twenty yards away in the midst of a struggling group of Demonsouled and began to cast a spell, a column of darkness rising around him.

  ###

  The steam cleared, blown away by the hot wind now roaring through the chamber, and Molly saw Riothamus standing untouched, the bronze-colored staff shining in his right hand. He began to cast a spell…

  But before he could finish, more fire erupted from the wall.

  Molly cursed. What was causing that flame? A Demonsouled wizard? Some spell conjured by the Old Demon? Or…

  No. Skalatan.

  She had heard the stories about the archpriest’s dragon, and skulking in the shadows and launching surprise attacks was exactly the sort of tactic a San-keth cleric would employ. The serpent had to be using a cloaking or masking spell.

  And if Molly pinpointed his location, she could shove a foot of steel down Skalatan’s gullet.

  She turned, scanning the wall, watching for the source of the next blast of flame.

  “Sister!”

  The voice sent a jolt of horrified recognition through her.

  She turned just as Corvad charged, his gray eyes alight with fury and glee, the sword of the Destroyer burning in his fist.

  ###

  Riothamus blocked another blast of dragon fire, his head ringing with the effort.

  How was Skalatan even here? Entering Cythraul Urdvul required the blood of the Demonsouled, blood that Skalatan did not possess. Had he…

  “Of course,” whispered Riothamus.

  The skull.

  Corvad’s skull, the skull that had allowed Malaric to gain the powers of the Demonsouled. Skalatan had allied with Malaric for the express purpose of gaining control of that skull. Riothamus had wondered why Skalatan bothered with the renegade. Malaric had been an unreliable and treacherous ally at best, and surely the skull’s powers were no match for the archpriest’s own magic.

  Unless Skalatan needed the skull to enter Cythraul Urdvul.

  Which meant that if Riothamus could destroy the skull, it would force Skalatan out of Cythraul Urdvul and back into the material world.

  Another wave of flame, larger and hotter than before, roared across the floor.

  But the plan would only work if Riothamus survived long enough to find the skull.

  ###

  Mazael sprinted forward, cutting down the Demonsouled in his way.

  He wasn’t going to make it in time.

  The Old Demon pointed his left hand, shadow and blood-colored fire whirling around his fingers, smiling as he summoned killing magic.

  A dark blur slammed into the Old Demon and knocked him sideways just as the spell flared to life. A lance of crimson fire burst from the Old Demon’s hand and ripped through the battle, missing Mazael by mere inches. The Demonsouled it touched burst into crimson fire, the flames absorbed back into the great pillar.

  Romaria wore the form of the great black wolf, her muscled bulk driving the Old Demon to the floor, her jaws clamped around his throat. Mazael ran faster, fear driving him forward.

  The Old Demon raised his left hand, a crimson sigil shining on his palm. Blood-colored fire slammed into Romaria and sent her spinning head over tail.

  She vanished into the chaos of the battle, leaving behind the stench of burned fur and flesh.

  Mazael roared and raced for the Old Demon.

  His father disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

  Mazael spun just as the Old Demon reappeared behind him, the Glamdaigyr driving for his heart.

  ###

  “For the love of the gods!” said Molly. “Does no one stay dead?”

  Corvad thrust at her, and she dodged around his blows, sword and dagger working. In life he had been stronger and faster than her. Here, in the birthplace of the Demonsouled, Molly’s enhanced speed and strength matched his own. The burning sword of the Destroyer plunged at her face. She twisted and her sword caught Corvad across the hip, drawing blood, but her brother hardly seemed to notice.

  “You will serve our grandfather,” said Corvad, “as you should have served him in life. He will be the new god, sister, and you shall fall on your knees…”

  “Oh, shut up, Corvad,” said Molly, thrusting and stabbing. Her attack forced Corvad to retreat, and Molly landed two minor hints. Yet she didn’t have time to fight her dead brother. Riothamus needed her help. Mazael needed her help.

  “Fall and die!”

  A hulking figure in black armor ran at her, a crimson greatsword ablaze in his armored fists. Molly recognized that black armor, that hard face in the dragon-shaped helm.

  Ragnachar, once a hrould of the Tervingi nation and a son of the Old Demon.

  “Damn it,” whispered Molly, and her brother and her uncle attacked her.

  ###

  Skalatan sent blast after blast of dragon fire across the Chamber, consuming the warring Demonsouled and hammering down the Guardian’s defenses.

  It would not be long now. The Guardian’s wards were starting to buckle. Sooner or later exhaustion would claim the Guardian, and then Skalatan would have victory.

  Then he could unleash his full strength against the Old Demon.

  A blast of fire shattered against a wall of ice, and Skalatan summoned more power.

  ###

  Ragnachar and Corvad closed on her, and Molly drew on her full strength and tried to jump into the shadows.


  Nothing happened. She felt the Glamdaigyr’s peculiar barrier, the power that kept her from using the shadows to travel instantaneously.

  But she was stronger in Cythraul Urdvul, her power enhanced by the gathered might of the Demonsouled, and the strange barrier felt thinner than she remembered.

  Corvad and Ragnachar drew back their weapons for the kill.

  Molly’s strength smashed through the barrier.

  Shadows swallowed her, and she reappeared at Riothamus’s side, the floor smoking beneath her boots. Riothamus looked drawn and strained, the sigils upon his staff radiant with golden light.

  “You’re alive,” he said, relief in his voice.

  “Corvad couldn’t kill me in life, and he’s bloody not going to do it when he’s dead,” said Molly. “The fire. It’s coming from Skalatan.”

  “I know,” said Riothamus. “He has Corvad’s skull with him, and he used it to enter Cythraul Urdvul without Demonsouled blood.”

  “So if we break the skull…”

  Riothamus nodded. “Then we have one less foe to…look out!”

  Another river of flame roared across the floor, and Riothamus thrust the staff. Again a wall of white mist hardened into a sheet of ice, and the dragon fire slammed into it. The ice and flames dissolved into steam, but a wall of hot air slammed into them, driving them back several steps.

  Riothamus wiped sweat from his forehead, panting. “I can’t keep blocking those. If we don’t find him, he’ll wear me down.”

  “I can’t see him,” said Molly.

  “But I can,” said Riothamus, and she saw that he had a plan.

  ###

  Mazael spun, and just managed to get Lion up to block the Glamdaigyr’s swing.

  The force drove him back, and he stumbled, trying to keep his balance.

  “Too slow,” hissed the Old Demon, the Glamdaigyr weaving back and forth before him. “Too weak. You should have let me kill you when you had the chance, Mazael. It will be far less painful that what is to come.”

  “If you’re going to kill me,” said Mazael, his eyes sweeping the chaos for any sign of Romaria, “then stop talking and kill me already.”

  The Old Demon grinned. “Easily done.”

  The Glamdaigyr hammered against Lion, forcing Mazael back.

  ###

  Skalatan called more power through the drachweisyr.

  It had proven so easy in the end. He felt the Guardian’s power ebbing, and the human wizard’s walls of ice were no longer so tall and thick. Soon he would not have the strength to drive back the drachweisyr’s attacks, and Skalatan would burn him to ashes.

  And then he would destroy the Old Demon at last.

  He felt the Guardian start another spell, but one far weaker than his previous efforts. It certainly would not be strong enough to deflect another blast of dragon fire.

  Skalatan pointed the drachweisyr.

  ###

  “Ready,” said Molly, her hands tight around the hilts of her weapons.

  If she failed, both she and Riothamus were going to die.

  At least it would be quick.

  Riothamus gestured as he cast a spell, sweeping his staff before him, and the air rippled.

  And another spot of air rippled on the far wall of the Chamber of Blood as Riothamus dispelled Skalatan’s cloaking spell. Through the mayhem of the battle Molly saw a tall, thin figure draped in ragged gray robes, a scepter of bone clutched in a skeletal right hand.

  Skalatan.

  The serpent priest’s carrier held a skull in its left hand.

  Skalatan leveled the scepter at them, its length glowing like a coal in the fire.

  “Go!” said Riothamus.

  Molly flung herself into the shadows, using all her Demonsouled strength to punch through the Glamdaigyr’s barrier. Darkness swallowed her, and she reappeared against the Chamber’s curved wall.

  Skalatan stood three paces away, dragon fire shimmering down the length of the peculiar scepter. He whirled at her approach and pointed the scepter at her, the dragon fire brightening. He did not speak, did not gloat or boast as the Old Demon or Corvad would have done.

  He was simply going to blast her to smoking embers.

  Molly had no time to move, no time to attack, not even enough time to fall back into the shadows.

  So she threw the dragon’s tooth dagger.

  The blade smashed into the skull. The tooth shattered the skull’s dome, broken pieces of bone falling to the black floor. The crimson sigils upon the damaged skull went dark.

  Skalatan looked at her, at the broken skull, and then back at her.

  “I did not,” he said, “foresee that.”

  The air around him twisted and writhed with silver light, and Skalatan vanished, flung back into the physical world.

  Molly grinned and walked the shadows back to Riothamus’s side. Together they could join the fight against the Old Demon with Mazael.

  She appeared at Riothamus’s side just as Ragnachar and Corvad rushed them.

  ###

  Romaria swam back to consciousness.

  She lay on her side upon a cold floor of black stone, still in the form of a wolf. As her eyes swam back into focus, she saw the Demonsouled struggling around her, and she smelled blood and sweat and fury and the corruption of their tainted blood.

  She surged to her feet, claws tapping against the smooth stone, and saw Morebeth locked in battle with Amalric Galbraith a few feet away, their swords weaving together to form a net of crimson fire.

  Romaria raced through the press, trying to find Mazael.

  She saw him standing on the stairs of the dais, at the very edge of the great pillar of bloody fire. He was on the defensive, falling back as the Old Demon swung and hacked, moving so fast that even Romaria’s keen eyes could barely follow the motions. Mazael was alone, and unless he received aid, the Old Demon was going to kill him.

  But there were too many battling Demonsouled between her and Mazael.

  Romaria blurred back into human form, raised her bow, and loosed an arrow. It slammed into the Old Demon’s back with enough force to rock him, and Mazael lunged, Lion drawing a line of blue flame.

  But the Old Demon gestured, and a blast of invisible force knocked Mazael back. Romaria drew another arrow, but the Old Demon was quicker. He whirled, grinning as he faced her, and flung out his free hand.

  Invisible force erupted from his fingers, a tremendous blast that ripped through the Chamber of Blood, flinging hundreds of Demonsouled into the air. The blast caught Romaria and knocked her to the floor, the writhing black sky spinning before her eyes. She shoved aside the pain and weariness and staggered back to her feet.

  She saw Mazael and the Old Demon continue their duel, outlined against the column of flame. The Old Demon pushed him back and back, and Mazael stumbled at last.

  Then the Old Demon drove the Glamdaigyr through Mazael’s chest, the point of the blade erupting from his back.

  Chapter 32 - The New God

  Agony filled Mazael, icy fingers spreading through him.

  He tried to rip himself from the Glamdaigyr’s freezing blade, but the sword sucked the strength and warmth from his limbs. He tried to raise Lion, the sword snarling with azure flames in his right fist, but he could not raise his arm. All around him he heard the chaos of the fight, screams and shouts and clangs, but it grew distant, so distant.

  He thought he heard Romaria screaming.

  The Old Demon’s crimson eyes filled the world.

  “You failed, Mazael,” he said, grinning his fang-filled grin. “This was your fate. This was always your fate. To fail, so close to the end. To die knowing that the world will be mine to use as I please. That everyone you ever loved is mine to torment as I wish.” He leaned closer, his eyes burning. “Think on that as you die.”

  The Old Demon twisted the hilt of the Glamdaigyr.

  And darkness took Mazael Cravenlock.

  ###

  The Old Demon stared at the corpse of
his son, Mazael’s strength and power flowing into him through the Glamdaigyr.

  For a moment, just a moment, he had known a hint of fear. When both Lion and the Guardian’s staff had come to confront him at his moment of triumph, a bit of doubt had touched him. Could they truly defeat him?

  Now his fear seemed ridiculous. They could not defeat him. They never would defeat him. For three thousand years he had made kings and empires dance to his will, and with the assembled power of the Demonsouled, he would mold the world in his image.

  And it was better this way. His foes would witness his ascension…and then their true torment could begin.

  He almost kicked Mazael’s corpse off the blade, and then stopped himself.

  This, too, was better. Let them watch as Mazael’s body burned away in the might of the Demonsouled power. Let them watch and despair.

  And it would amuse the Old Demon to look at the corpse of his rebellious son as he became a god.

  He strode up the final steps to the dais and thrust the Glamdaigyr’s tip into the pillar of crimson flame.

  ###

  Molly dodged under Corvad’s sword, raising her blades for a block as Riothamus began a spell.

  And then Cythraul Urdvul shuddered around them like a massive bell.

  Silence fell over the Chamber of Blood as the warring Demonsouled lowered their weapons and looked at the pillar of flame.

  “No,” said Riothamus. “Oh, no.”

  Molly saw her grandfather thrust the Glamdaigyr into the flame, her father’s corpse speared upon the sword. Even as she watched, the Glamdaigyr transformed into a shaft of crimson fire, the pillar’s flame flowing down it like water draining through a canal.

  Draining into the Old Demon.

  His triumphant laughter rang over the Chamber of Blood.

  “Our father ascends,” said Ragnachar. “He shall be the new god. He shall rule the world for all time.”