Despite the chaos among their foes’ ranks, the defenders’ will to fight dwindled away, smothered by the dreadful fear of the turmahr. Hands shook, and soldiers from the less disciplined units fled the field. Their sergeants tried in vain to keep them in line.
The fighting had ceased—all fearful eyes were on the turmahr, a true wild card in the conflict.
Without warning, a dark shape dove out of the smoky sky, landing atop the turmahr’s spiny back. Although less than half the beast’s size, Arron bravely attacked the fiend. His sharp talons raked the beast’s thick hide, and his teeth tore at its neck. The turmahr roared in rage, ichor staining its hide from deep gashes. As Arron clung to its back, he breathed a gout of flame over the turmahr’s head.
The dragonfire cleared, and the turmahr appeared unharmed. As she watched, Idrimel was disheartened to see its wounds close upon its back and flanks. Although Arron fought courageously, he couldn’t truly harm the turmahr—nothing could, according to legend—even the Dark One himself couldn’t destroy it.
But Arron bought the defenders valuable time. The retreat was sounded. Wounded were being transported inside the city, and the defenders were falling back behind the walls, counting on them providing some small amount of protection although the gates were shattered.
The walls won’t hold against that thing longer than a few moments. I don’t know if even Nera can stop it, assuming she has her full power when she returns.
Idrimel herself was tiring from battle and had used up the majority of her spells. The Steel Rage had sustained heavy losses, as had the Nexus Watch. The other mercenary company and the conscripts and volunteers had fared even worse. Her fellow contingent of Solites had been reduced to only a pair of paladins, along with Andras, the high priest of the Nexus temple. Prior to the turmahr’s arrival, the defenders had already been on the verge of conceding the Funnel and attempting to hold within the walls.
Idrimel smashed a fleeing laksaar with her mace, caving in its skull. Its horn shattered from her blow, and gray goop squished out its ears. But two more took its place, desperate to get away from the turmahr. She bashed the first one aside with her shield, but the second latched onto her thigh with a bite. She smashed its skull before it could penetrate deeply, but the lacerations bled, every wound further weakening her.
One of the remaining paladins of Sol cut down the second laksaar with a swift stroke.
“Those open portals are now the least of our concerns.” As the words left her mouth, Idrimel watched as the turmahr dislodged Arron from its back, seizing the dragon’s neck in its great jaws.
The dragon roared in pain, and the gigantic demon tossed him aside like a rag doll. Arron tumbled end over end, churning up a huge cloud of ash. When the cloud cleared, she could see that he lay broken on the ground, unmoving.
The turmahr roared its victory and turned its attention to the city. The ground shook beneath the massive beast as it worked its way into a lumbering charge. The few stragglers remaining from the horde scrambled to clear its path as it headed straight for the gates of the city. A wounded uvkra was smashed flat beneath a gigantic foot.
Screams of sheer terror were voiced by both defenders and demons alike.
“Fall back!” someone shouted.
Idrimel looked over and saw it was Wyat. Her heart had nearly broken when he had fallen to the fiend Gaemnohr earlier, but Sol had mercifully granted his healing. The commander waved for his men to draw back. The decimated soldiers needed no encouragement, swiftly pouring back into the city.
“Sol help us—this is the end. Nothing can stop such a beast,” Andras said grimly. “Let us go inside the walls for our last stand, Sister.”
“No, I cannot. If we give up this ground, Nexus is doomed.” Idrimel stood fast.
The high priest’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “There is nothing that can be done now, Idrimel. Our fate is in Sol’s hands. There is no need to throw your life away—there are innocents we can still protect and provide healing for within Nexus’s walls.”
“My faith remains strong,” she said firmly. “Sol may yet guide my hand to strike down our greatest foe.” Fear threatened to shatter her brittle resolve as she watched the fearsome beast charging toward them.
Athyzon would have stood here in my stead. I shall make you proud, my brother—I will call for Sol’s aid with my dying breath.
Andras looked at her sadly for a moment. “Sol’s blessing go with you, Sister.” The high priest summoned his paladins, and they joined the rest of the defenders falling back to the gates.
Idrimel saw she was the last one remaining on the field.
“Idrimel, no!” Wyat cried out from near the broken gates, gesturing frantically for her to join them. Yosrick and Rand were gripping his arms, urging him to remain with them.
She smiled sadly and saluted him with her mace. Her faith was strengthening her, and she knew in her heart she was doing the right thing.
The horde had left a clear path for the turmahr, wide enough for an entire cohort to march through unscathed. Idrimel was the only one standing in its way, and it would likely not even notice her, crushing her beneath its monstrous foot like a blade of grass.
She recited a mantra to aid her resolve. “For despite the darkness, dawn always follows, and with it the purifying rays of the light make everything anew,” she said with conviction, eyes locked on the baleful glare of the charging turmahr. Out of habit, her hand went to Athyzon’s holy symbol, which she had taken as her own. She lifted it free from her tabard and was surprised to find it blazing with the pure light of a miniature sun.
As if Athyzon is watching over me.
Strength and a cool confidence flowed through her as she regarded the glowing disc. “Almighty Sol, if this is your will, grant me the strength to strike down this monster, our greatest foe.”
The holy symbol vibrated wildly in her hand like a pendant in a stiff gale. Raising her gaze, she saw the immense teeth filling the maw of the turmahr, now only a long bowshot away. Its bulk filled her vision, blotting out the hazy star field overhead. Saliva dripped from its fangs, each one longer than she was tall, and the deadly purple mist oozed from its jaws.
A rift suddenly sundered the sky with a sharp crack as a portal formed overhead. Light streamed from it, as if the sun were shining upon the Ashen Planes. As she watched in awe, a figure sailed through the rift and swept toward her on graceful wings.
A celestial! Her heart soared at the sight of the magnificent being as it glided directly toward her. The celestial raised a silver trumpet and sounded a clarion call. The horn’s blast rang out over the battlefield. Time itself slowed around her, and she was distantly aware of the horde recoiling from the glory of Sol’s messenger.
Then the celestial landed before her. Her hair streamed behind her as the wind from its descent buffeted her. The sight of the celestial’s face rendered her speechless.
Athyzon stood before her, clad in his familiar silver armor, although he was somehow greater—imbued with Sol’s own power. His presence was powerful, his face beautiful, glowing with an almost godly radiance. The great wings upon his back were covered in feathers of the purest white.
“Beloved Sister, your faith is an example for all! I am glad to see you once again. Sol has granted me an unrivaled honor, raising me on high after my death, and I now serve as his sword.” He tucked the trumpet into his belt.
Tears streamed down Idrimel’s face, and her knees buckled. Athyzon grasped her shoulders and supported her with ease.
“Is it really you?” she finally managed to ask.
“It is I, Idrimel. I am the same, yet now greater. I am Sol’s avenger. Now, I think, you need his might more than ever, if I’m not mistaken.” Despite the grim situation, his eyes glimmered with humor, which heartened her.
Idrimel hugged him fiercely. Although she knew the clergy were never to touch a celestial unless bidden to do so, she couldn’t resist. After all, her brother had returned.
A
thyzon smiled gently when, suddenly nervous, she released him. “Do not fret, Sister. Your courage is a beacon for us all. I have but moments I can be here, yet I shall aid you.” He looked past her shoulder expectantly.
It took Idrimel a moment to realize what he sought. “Oh, of course.” She unbuckled Redeemer and held it out to him. “Brother… that beast cannot be overcome. It is said the Dark One himself could only battle it to a stalemate.”
“Indeed, but this is not the Abyss, and as it is a creature of evil, its powers are weaker here.” Athyzon belted Redeemer to his waist so as not to interfere with his wings. She expected the tip to touch the ground, yet it didn’t. He had suddenly grown in stature before her. He drew the greatsword, and it blazed with a holy light nearly painful to look upon. “Be well, Sister. Sol smiles upon you, and we will be reunited again one day when he summons you home. But not this day.” He smiled at her and took flight again.
Athyzon streaked through the air like a blazing meteor of radiance. He landed before the turmahr, blocking its path, ash erupting from where he landed. The turmahr stopped its lumbering charge, confused by the sudden appearance of a mighty foe. The paladin avenger had grown to nearly the height of the monster itself. Idrimel felt tears of pride flowing at her brother’s magnificence, wielding Sol’s holy power.
“Begone from here! Shaol’s devourer will not be tolerated.” Athyzon’s voice boomed in challenge. “I rebuke you in the name of almighty Sol!”
The turmahr roared in response. It opened its maw and breathed its huge purple cloud of death magic at Athyzon. The avenger beat his wings rapidly, and the wind generated blew the mass of spittle back on the beast. It blinked its eyes, momentarily blinded, and Athyzon attacked, a radiant blur. Redeemer lashed out in quick succession. Huge rents were carved in the turmahr’s thick hide, the wounds gleaming with golden light. The creature screeched in agony as Sol’s holy fire burned its hide like acid. It sprang at Athyzon with agility belying its bulk.
He ducked under it, bringing Redeemer up in an overhand slash. The blade pierced its gullet, and the creature’s lunge caused it to eviscerate itself, tearing open its entire underbelly. Athyzon streaked back up into the air with fierce beats of his wings. The turmahr’s guts spilled out in a repulsive heap, steaming and sizzling with poison. The beast staggered, bellowing in agony, its head raised to cry out to the heavens.
But it would find no mercy there.
Athyzon dove and, with a mighty strike, cleaved deep into its throat. His next swing sent the blade carving through its thick neck until it was beheaded. The head hit the ground like a fallen mountain, sending a huge plume of ash into the sky, followed by an even greater one when its body toppled moments later.
The cloud of ash was whipped away by Athyzon’s wings as he beat them, taking to the air. Radiance gathered around him until he blazed like the sun. A cone of holy fire shone over the remains of the turmahr, bathing it in flame. Moments later, the fire burned away, and nothing remained of the beast but a scorched layer of new ash atop the old.
“Rally, defenders of Nexus, find your courage, for the Deceiver’s hold has been broken,” Athyzon called out, his mighty voice nearly a thunderclap. “I must depart now, Sister. Keep the faith.” With a salute, he soared up into the sky, blazing up through the rift, which disappeared behind him with an audible pop over the stunned silence of the battlefield.
Idrimel stood in amazement at what had transpired. Athyzon had likely only banished the turmahr from the plane of Nexus by destroying its corporeal form. She doubted it could be utterly destroyed—instead it would respawn back upon its home plane of the Abyss. But its apparent destruction had opened the gates for victory.
Idrimel raised her mace overhead. “Rally to me, defenders of Nexus!” she cried. “Sol himself is with us today! This battle was brought to our doorstep by the Usurper’s doing—he that seeks to steal control of Nexus and destroy it in the process. But we shall be the ones to finish it!”
A cheer erupted from the weary defenders of Nexus, and newly emboldened, they swept forward, falling upon the disorganized and demoralized horde.
Idrimel led their charge, confident that the day would now be theirs.
Chapter 34
The sounds of combat issued from the fortress bailey. A group of monks was fighting off a pack of snarling laksaar, which outnumbered them two to one. The margin had apparently been even greater, as Waresh noted a number of laksaar corpses. Even as he watched, one of the monks was struck from behind, sharp talons tearing deep into his back. He fell to his knees, and two of the fiends were on him, snapping and tearing at his flesh. His cries choked off.
Waresh advanced, intending to aid them, for anyone battling against the fiends was no enemy. Another monk, this one a more seasoned man, was surrounded by four fiends. Thinking him about to be brought down, Waresh raced in, Heartsbane raised.
But the monk had the situation well under control. He jumped and performed a circle kick. Bone crunched, and a fiend flew back into Waresh, who split its skull with his axe. The other three sprang at the monk, who ducked low, dipping a shoulder and catching the nearest one under the belly. He twisted over, hurling it into its companion’s charge, sending the two down in a tangle of limbs. The fourth halted its momentum at the last second, then as the two laksaar went down, it sprang. Before it could launch itself, the monk did a backflip, his foot catching the fiend under the chin and sending it flying away.
The monk’s companions jumped on the wounded laksaar, finishing them with a flurry of punches and kicks. Seeing Waresh, two of the fiends charged him. Not having any such fancy moves, nor needing them, the dwarf met their charge, a sweep of the axe opening one’s throat while he sidestepped the other’s slashing claws.
A monk blindsided the second laksaar, breaking its leg with a powerful kick. It slid on the cobblestones, and Waresh finished it with a stroke though the back.
Then, the fiends were defeated. Five monks remained standing, but their fallen companion didn’t move.
“Greetings, Master Dwarf. I thank you for your assistance,” the older monk said with a polite bow. “I am Brother Cerador.”
“Waresh,” he said brusquely. “Is Nera inside?”
“The Lady of Twilight fights her battles within and asked us to ensure she not be disturbed.”
“I reckon she can use some aid.”
“She does not—” He was interrupted by another figure, whom Waresh hadn’t seen before, stepping out of the shadows of the entrance.
“It’s all right, Brother Cerador. Waresh is a friend of Nera’s.” Endira had seen better days. A band of black metal was wrapped around her neck and had cut into her skin. The elf’s face was pale and waxy, with dark hollows under her green eyes, which lacked their usual luster. Dried blood crusted her face and neck.
“Had a tough time of it, lass?” he asked.
Endira nodded solemnly as she walked over. “I fear it’s not going well inside. Nera thought to protect me from further harm and teleported me out here, but I can sense that, as it stands now, she’s losing the battle.”
“Then we shall have to sway it in her favor, eh?”
She smiled wanly. “I agree.” She grasped Waresh’s arm when he took a step forward. “He will expect us from that direction. I’ve a better idea.”
The two ran around toward the rear of the keep. Endira jogged slowly, seemingly still shaken up from her earlier battle, while Waresh grimaced from the ache of the deep spear wound in his back. They passed through gardens that had turned brown and wilted from lack of water.
The bailey suddenly ended at nothingness. Waresh skidded to a halt, arms wheeling to keep from falling forward. The fortress literally backed the edge of Nexus, which fell off into the void. Even as he stared into it, dizziness overtook him. If he fell, he would continue to fall forever…
“Easy.” Endira clutched his arm and pulled him back.
“Reiktir’s beard, that’s… unnatural. I reckon the keep is imperv
ious to attack from that direction.”
Endira walked up to the keep, placing the palms of her hands against the stone wall. “Through here,” she said quietly.
“Beg pardon? How do ye mean to get in there?”
The nearest window was perhaps fifteen paces overhead. He’d opened his mouth to complain about trying to climb when she grasped his hand and pulled him forward.
“Remain calm and don’t let go, or it won’t go well for you,” she said.
He gaped in shock when she passed right through the stone like a phantom. Before he could utter a startled curse, he was inside the wall. Blackness smothered him, the entire weight of the keep pressing down, and he momentarily panicked, unable to breathe. Endira’s warm hand was the only thing keeping him from being trapped in the stone. He forced himself to try to relax.
They came out of the wall and into a narrow corridor, likely a servant’s passage. Waresh gasped loudly, sucking in deep breaths. Before he could react, Endira pulled him again, this time through the wall before them. They came out into a cluttered storage room filled with barrels of supplies, but with her power, they passed right through those as if they were illusions. Then the next wall absorbed them.
“They are near—beware.” Endira’s voice was cool in his mind, as he had experienced on past occasions. “If you draw his attention prematurely, you’ll likely die.”
And then they were in the throne room. Waresh took a moment to process what was going on. To his left was a dais and a hideous-looking throne of what appeared to be bones. Beyond that was a skeletal figure chained to the floor, a gaping hole in its chest. Directly before them, halfway across the chamber, was a humming cloud of what he realized were sharp blades swirling around. Within the cloud stood the Engineer.
Their foe was focused on Nera, before him. Waresh almost cried out in fury when he saw his friend, but he managed to stifle his shout lest their lone chance end in failure. She was chained to the wall with a black staff the length of a lance piercing her chest. The Engineer held the head of the staff in his hand. Nera’s eyes were rolled back as if fighting some internal battle.
Dawnbringer Page 31
