by Reaves, Troy
Boremac was the first to speak. “I have no problem extending our journey into the mountain heights, Gregor. If we can all work together, we can at least postpone joining Lord Silverwing in his fate.”
Tana chose to ignore the rogue's jibe as she addressed Gregor in her turn. “We can make the rest of the journey easily enough. Sephia and Keen can guide us beyond the reach of any threats as long as it does not interfere with Boremac's leadership too much.”
“I am certain we will all put aside our differences to accomplish what is expected of us. The two of you will stop this constant baiting of one another.” Gregor's tone allowed for no reply, and he waited for none. “We will gather what supplies we need and leave as soon as everyone is ready.”
Dramor's bellowing voice carried across the village as he emerged from a broad building. “Lord Lightsword, I need a bit o' ya time!”
Gregor briefly issued tasks for the others to attend to in order to prepare for their departure, and walked to where Dramor stood waving him over frantically. Gregor smiled at his waving form, thinking Dramor must have assumed the knight had gone deaf to not hear his call. The knight raised a hand in acknowledgment and went to speak with him.
“What is wrong, Dramor?” Gregor's smile disappeared when he saw the look of concern that colored the mountain man's heavy features.
Dramor lowered his rough voice and stared intently into Gregor's eyes. “Thar been a callin', Lord Lightsword, an' one I canna let pass. Master Stonecutter, the leader o' me clan, he is fallen an' I gotta find 'im.”
“A calling? What do you mean, Dramor?
Dramor thought a moment before answering. “Our shamans, like yer priests I guess, sometime jus' know when somethin' terrible happens. I went ta pay respec' afore we goin' ta face tha' foes, an' the shaman say sumthin' terrible happen to Master Stonecutter. He still livin' an' near somewhere, an' I got ta go find 'im. I feel terrible bad ta leave ya an' the others, but I gots ta try an' find 'im. Like you an' yer mentor, I be thinkin'. Master Stonecutter be like a father an' a brother ta me an' I gots ta try.”
“I understand, Dramor. You go and do what you have to for your leader. Go with the God's blessing, and bring him home safe.” Gregor found he understood the mountain man's words better than even the knight himself knew. The holy warrior prayed Dramor would bring his brother home. He called for the strength to save Lord Silverwing as well, and felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. Lord Silverwing had often said that faith would carry the young knight, and Gregor believed it.
***
Lord Silverwing became aware of oppressive heat before he opened his eyes. His shoulders pulsated where the spear-like quarrels had penetrated them, but there was no longer any pain and they had been removed. The knight could only assume he had been healed by his captors for reasons that were their own. The answer to that question would come soon enough.
The rocky floor under his body burned him even through the protection of his leathers. His head was full of tearing pain as he felt the familiar invasion into his mind of the foe he had never forgotten. He knew the Tharnorsa was in front of him without opening his eyes. Rise, Lord Silverwing, and see the devourer of this world. This meeting has been too long delayed. The knight was violently jerked to his feet by unseen clawed hands. Silverwing took little comfort in feeling the weight of his swords in their scabbards at his sides.
The knight shook away from the grip of the creatures that had brought him to his feet. He saw the creatures move to leave the vast cavern as the demon on the throne before him waved at them dismissively. The creatures proceeded up a narrow stairwell that appeared to lead deeper into the mountain. The light cast by two giant craters filled with lava was adequate to their purpose, illuminating the throne and its occupant.
The dead will bear witness to your failure. The Tharnorsa's glowing eyes diminished the shadows near its massive head as it waved a broad scaled hand across the floor before the knight. The remains of the rangers and druids that were slain in the rocky terrain on the road to the keep had been scattered haphazardly across the rough floor of the natural cavern. Do not worry over the bodies. They will be disposed of once I have finished with you. I am certain the Gods and Goddesses have already blessed their spirits with peace in honor of their sacrifice at your hands. I will honor them further in that they will not be fed to the demon blooded orcs in my service. Immolation in the pits will cleanse their remains. This mountain should have its due for its service to us. The Tharnorsa bridged its clawed hands in front of its chest, obviously enjoying invading the knight's mind. Have you some reply, some cursed words against me, to which you wish to give voice?
Silverwing stared into the darkness where the demon's eyes glowed. “You will receive no such pleasure from me, demon. The dead are beyond my prayers, and I will not waste precious breath speaking to your kind. You will find the taste of my blades has not changed since our last meeting.” Despite referring to the blades at his side, the knight kept them sheathed. He wanted to know what this demon was really doing in this world, and more importantly, who had summoned him.
The Tharnorsa had remained in his mind and chose to respond to his thoughts as well as Silverwing's words. You see I still bear the marks of our last encounter. The demon gestured to the twin scars in his vast chest as he continued. I have anticipated having the opportunity to give you wounds in kind for some time. My failure in destroying you caused no small amount of suffering for me in the Abyss. The Unnamed One has little tolerance for those of my position who cannot deal with blessed warriors, especially when so great a prize is to be taken. I was blessed with the attentions of the Unnamed One himself, and I intend to share the gifts he bestowed upon me with you in kind. The suffering I endured would kill you far too quickly to serve my desire for revenge, so we will spend long days together, enjoying the sounds of your screams.
“You found no such pleasure with Lord Clamine, and you will receive none from me.” Silverwing's defiant tone, or the events to which the knight referred, seemed to give the demon a moment of reflection. Silverwing pressed forward, sensing the demon's reaction. The knight nodded to the resting place of his fallen brother's sword hilt, feeling a wave of sadness when he saw its blackened form. “You bear the hilt of the sword from the fallen knight, but his spirit lives on in all of us that remain. Your destruction is only a matter of time.”
The demon's massive form began to diminish as it rose, standing in front of its throne and taking the hilt Silverwing referred to into its clawed hand. In moments, the demon stood in the form of a vaguely humanoid creature tainted by its true self. The horns and fiery eyes remained, though the mouth and other features of the demon were now vaguely human. Fangs protruded from the corners of the creature's mouth, and a thick split tongue darted out as it measured Silverwing at a comparable eye level. Large clawed digits dug into the rocky floor as if it were soft dirt, leaving small ruts as the Tharnorsa moved closer to the knight. A serpentine tail had grown from the demons lower back, and darted around the creature, shiny reptilian skin forming fleshy flaps at either side of the jagged stinger on the end. Silverwing was surprised at the change in the demon's form, but he was more disturbed by the voice that issued from the Tharnorsa's twisted grimace.
“There will be no end to my reign in these lands, Lord Silverwing. You are no threat to me now, and your pitiful student is of little concern. He is a knight in title alone.” The demon's vile mouth turned upward into a mocking smile, as Silverwing reacted to the words concerning Gregor. “You have put much faith in a simple boy who knows nothing of what he will face. I am going to keep you alive so that he can rush to his doom in a misplaced effort to save you. The Master of this stronghold has long planned the events that led to this day, and, to his credit, he has used even me to the best of his abilities to take and keep power in this world. The priest has made a valuable ally. I am almost saddened that our association is nearly at an end. Rest assured, Gregor will be dealt with once he has served my pur
pose.”
Lord Silverwing brought his swords into his hands as he answered. Each of his weapons was enveloped in the glow of white light and the knight readied himself to face the demon. “Master Gregor will never serve you, demon. He is destined to bring peace to this world and is touched by the God of Light. You cannot sway him.”
The Tharnorsa only grinned in reply as the tainted hilt he bore sprouted a wicked blade. The black blade built itself from the hilt, enclosed in a deep red glow of its own as if in answer to the emanations from Lord Silverwing's blades. The single weapon the demon held was no longer than a longsword much like one of the knight's blades, an evil mirror to Silverwing's own. “We will see, Lord Silverwing. Let us end this banter. I owe you wounds and I hunger for the marring of your flesh. You note that I possess only one blade against your two holy swords. I will even the fight with the use of my tail and you will see that the blade I bear is equal in either of my hands. In addition, you should know that if my tail bites your flesh, you will be favored with an agonizing death as the caustic poison within its stinger taints the blood in your veins and dissolves your body. You may prefer that to the plans I have for you after I defeat you.” The Tharnorsa casually spun the blade in one hand, demonstrating its oneness with the tainted weapon, before passing it to the other and repeating the action to emphasize its words. A drop of greenish fluid dripped from the demon's tail as it darted toward Silverwing, nearly touching the knight's forehead. “Prepare for death.”
Silverwing tempted the demon with an opening move meant to draw an attack, seeking a suitable place to strike. The knight held one blade in a defensive position in front of his chest as the other blade darted out to find purchase in the demon's hide. The Tharnorsa dropped into a crouch, causing the attack to pass harmlessly over his shoulder; its envenomed tail swept the blade away from the creature's body. The wisdom of Lord Silverwing's defensive posturing soon became evident. The demon's black blade jabbed violently forward, seeking to penetrate the knight's chest. Silverwing's blade glowed with his movement to parry the demon's blade, as if it found the contact with the black blade offensive, causing the thrust to strike the floor. The white blade swung in a brief reversing arc, taking advantage of the opening the knight created, biting deeply into the demon's shoulder.
The Tharnorsa brought the blade up in a defensive posture of its own, moved to speak by the successful attack. “Well placed, Lord Silverwing, but I think you will find more than that is required to undo me.” The weeping wound in the demon's shoulder knitted itself as the creature spoke, and the demon swept his tail high, nearly striking Silverwing's own shoulder in reply. The demon had obviously pulled the killing sting, and the knight wondered at his tormentor's mercy. It seemed it was not the creature's intent to kill him after all.
Lord Silverwing stepped backward, bringing his swords parallel to his chest with the tips pointing to the heavens. “You have grown powerful since last we met, and more cunning, but you will find you are no match for a master of the blades in service to the God of Light.” A more aggressive approach would be required to disable the demon. It was only a moment before the knight saw the opening he sought. The first glowing blade in Silverwing's hand struck at the demon's black blade, gliding powerfully toward the weapon's hilt as the knight angled his own sword to force the Tharnorsa's blade toward the ground at his side. Silverwing ignored the swift darting movements of the demon's tail, focusing on his target with his second blade. A short downward slice carved the demon's weaponless hand away, leaving the dismembered claws curling into a fist on the ground.
The demon withdrew his own sword, nearly catching Silverwing's shimmering blade in its jagged teeth, as the creature retreated several steps to recover. A coarse growl hissed from the demon's tight mouth as the severed arm sprouted small bits of scaly flesh, slowly regenerating the lost hand. “It is good to see you will provide some challenge to me after all, blade master. Do not revel in your success too long.” The demon brought his wounded arm up and flexed the stumps that were already forming to replace those cut from him, pointed tips emerging like the extended claws of a wildcat. “There is no mark with which you can mar this body that I cannot readily heal.” As the demon finished speaking, he shifted his sword from its present hand to the newly regenerated one. Despite the Tharnorsa's words, Silverwing suspected there was something the demon feared. The implication of the demon's tightened grip on the sword's hilt, the claws of the wielding hand digging deeply into the creature's palm, was not lost on the knight. In his many years of struggle against evil, he had learned one lesson better than any other. The movements of one's opponent gave you more knowledge in the best way to destroy them than any words they chose to share. What did the demon fear? That was a question Silverwing had to answer quickly.
“You assume too much, light bearer.” The demon spat the words out as if they were poison on his forked tongue. “You have no power here, and when this fight is over, you will lie on the ground at my mercy. In time you will plead for release from pain; you will even beg for the tortures awaiting you in the Abyss. Your God has forsaken you, Lord Silverwing, and in time you will curse his holy name.”
These words were too much for the knight to bear. Silverwing crossed the two blades of his blessed swords before his chest and stepped into the demon's reach, meaning to limit the movements of the demon. The creature's step backward betrayed his intention, but Silverwing missed his advantage momentarily, and its venomous tail snaked between the two combatants. The tip of the demon's tail came between the knight's blades, pressing into the place where the two hilts touched and forcing Silverwing to shift his feet to maintain his balance. The strong tail's interference prevented Silverwing from striking at the demon's throat as he had intended, and opened the knight's defenses as he cut away the tail just below its scaly flaps, taking a step backward to get out of the reach of the demon's sword. Silverwing had underestimated the demon's desire to wound him, and the creature's speed. The knight realized his error too late as he felt the bite of the Tharnorsa's cursed blade sliding through his thin leather armor, the jagged blade ripping into his chest with the force of the thrust. Silverwing's lung opened to the hot air in the cavern as the demon withdrew his blade slowly, with a wet sucking sound. “That would be one wound we now share, knight. Do try to protect yourself better now that you know my intention. It is a pity about the tail. That will take a few moments longer to regenerate since I do not normally possess the extension. That piece is drawn from the ether to create the flesh of the tail, and will take longer because of its nature. You should seize the advantage while you have it.” The demon drew the wet blade in front of his eyes, admiring the blood of his victim running down its length. “It is good to see you bleed the same as any other mortal, Lord Silverwing. I half expected this God of Light you serve to heal you. So much for the profit of faith and duty.”
Silverwing wanted to reply, but found he could not. His wounded lung sapped his strength even as he prepared to engage the demon once more. Silverwing brought his blades to defensive positions once more at his sides, inviting the demon to strike out at him. The knight was already weakening, and he took little solace in knowing the demon's intention.
The demon lowered his own blade to his side. The blade master could not help noticing the demon had shifted his blade to the clawed hand opposite Silverwing's pierced lung. He stared at the knight knowingly as blood stained Silverwing's leathers. “You had a solid plan of attack. Unfortunately, your execution of the tactic failed to take all the potential elements of my defense into account. I nod to your skills and give you another attempt at beheading me. You no longer possess the power to destroy me, even with your God's intervention. Pray for that power and strike.” The demon's head tilted backward, exposing its neck, as it spread its arms wide in mock submission.
Silverwing's blades ignited with divine force as he crossed the blades at his chest once more. The creature's sinewy flesh at his scaly neck flexed taunt as the knight stepped
forward to deliver the killing cut. Silverwing summoned all the strength he possessed, sweeping his swords to either side of the demon's pulsing throat and scissoring the blades against the exposed flesh. Laughter burst from the Tharnorsa as each blade met the creature's neck, bouncing away harmlessly. The demon brought his own blade up as the force of the knight's attempt pushed Silverwing back, betraying the blade bearer. Once more the demon's sword stabbed into the knight as the knight's arms shot out to his own sides, a second wound to match the first appearing in Silverwing's chest. Silverwing stumbled, attempting to keep his feet under him as pain suffused his body and his strength left him. Peace would come soon. The knight knew there was no way he could survive the wounds, and he had no intention of healing himself.
The demon had other plans, and spoke to the knight as if he had read his thoughts. “There is to be no peace for you, Lord Silverwing. You will bear the marks of this meeting until I tire of your existence in this world. Your suffering will find you praying for death until all faith in your God has been extinguished. Allow me to tend your wounds.” The touch of the demon's clawed hands was only the beginning of Silverwing's pain. The demon reached into his chest, expertly sealing the wounds with the fires at his command, and left only two large scars on the knight's chest to indicate Silverwing had been stabbed. “Rest for now, and I will have the priests tend to you. I want you fully aware when I begin to torture you, Lord Silverwing.”
