by N M Thorn
With a furious growl, Tugarin spun in place, his double-wide chest rising and falling with furious breaths. Like an infuriated bull seeing red, Tugarin moved toward Damian with a speed no one would expect from such a large, heavy monster. He raised his giant sword, ready to crush it on Damian’s head, and his blade went up in flames, spreading the waves of heat around.
In the last second, Damian sidestepped him, barely missing the sharp edge of the flaming weapon. However, this move came at a cost. Confined between the lake and the furious monster, he had no space to maneuver. As tall and strong as Damian was, Tugarin towered over him a few inches, and his unparalleled strength of an ancient monster gave him a serious advantage in their current position.
Raising his daggers, Damian braced himself for the next assault of the zmey when a harsh boom of a gunshot exploded in the cave. Like in a slow-motion movie, Damian watched a bullet exit Tugarin’s forehead, pieces of bone and splatters of blood following its movement. For a split second, the monster stood still, shock and disbelief reflected on his features. Then his fingers unlocked, and his sword dropped to the ground with a loud clamor. His eyes rolled back, and he fell on his back, the floor of the cave trembling from the impact like from an earthquake.
Cossack stood behind him, a .500 S&W Magnum in his hand. He lowered the gun, and a rueful smile appeared on his face.
“Whatever works… Right, Dima?” He shrugged his shoulders almost apologetically and put the gun back into the holster attached to his belt. “Just because medieval assholes fight with medieval weapons doesn’t mean we have to follow suit.”
Damian nodded, swallowing hard. “We’re not done, Cossack,” he said, his vocal cords painfully hoarse from the heat and smoke. “You know what we have to do.” He shuddered at the thought, his friend’s expression mirroring his feelings.
“Let’s do it.” Swallowing hard, Cossack approached the monster sprawled on the floor and swung his sword, decapitating him. Blood burst from the severed neck, drenching him from head to toe. He grunted, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth for a brief moment but didn’t stop. Damian joined his effort, and a few seconds later, they stood covered in blood over the monster’s dismembered body.
“That should be sufficient,” said Damian, channeling his magic toward his hands. “Ready?”
Cossack nodded, his lips pressed tight, his face slightly green.
“Ignius Amplio,” Damian said, and Cossack echoed his words.
Powerful jets of fire enveloped the body of the monster, hungrily devouring it. A swirl of dirty smoke went up in the air, and the reek of burned flesh mixed in with the nauseating odor of blood made it nearly unbreathable. Ignoring the heat and the stench, both Damian and Cossack kept the fire flowing until nothing was left of Tugarin Zmeyevich except for hot, steaming ashes and a few blackened bones.
Wiping the sweat and blood off his face with his hand, Damian turned toward the other end of the cave and froze, his limbs filled with lead. Feeling Cossack’s fingers squeezing his elbow, he winced and glanced at his friend.
“What the fuck?” he moaned, throwing his hands up. “And here I thought it couldn’t get any worse…”
Chapter 34
~ Damian Blake ~
Damian took off running, jumping over piles of disintegrating bodies of demons, steaming puddles of sticky goo, and severed limbs and heads. The pounding of fast steps and a slew of profanities sounded behind him, and he knew Cossack was following him. The terrible stench overpowered his sense of smell, making him cough, but he didn’t slow down until he reached Oleg and Cole. Both stood with their swords at the ready, but neither made a move, staring straight ahead.
The demonic army was gone, destroyed by his friends, but the Fallen was still alive and free. He stood in front of the wall with a sinister smirk on his face. A large area behind him glowed with the malignant presence of his magical energy. He was no longer chanting, but the light was steadily becoming brighter and brighter, small purple runes and sigils moving slowly around the perimeter of the affected area.
He held Ace in front of his stomach, his long, clawed fingers squeezing her throat. She didn’t move, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her sword lying next to her feet. Her eyes halted on Damian, and an expression of hope flew across her face but quickly disappeared, replaced by that of despair.
“That’s close enough, Commander Blake,” the Fallen said, raising his free hand, his webbed wings expanding behind his back. The entire cave shook, and a web of thin, black fractures sprouted from the glowing area.
Damian ignored him and stepped forward, running into an invisible wall. Pushed backward by the resistance of the magical field, he growled and punched it with his fist. The power field lit up brighter, indicating a small dome encapsulating Azazel, Ace and the entire area behind them.
“I warned you that you were close enough,” murmured Azazel, a crooked smirk stretching his thin, black lips. “Admit it, Commander”—he waved back, his smirk growing darker—“I won. You lost. End of story. There’s nothing you can do now.”
“We’ll see about that.” Damian threw a quick glance at Cossack, and he nodded, muttering something that sounded like ‘sure, why not’. They both approached the power field and place their hands against it.
Oleg glanced at them, and understanding dawned on his face. He stepped closer, positioning himself on the other side of Damian, and pressed his hands against the invisible barrier of magic.
“Between the three of us,” Oleg said quietly, “we can do it.”
Damian glanced back at Cole. His brother stood behind them with his sword in his hand. Drenched in blood and slime from head to toe, it was impossible to see his expression, but his scarlet eyes blazed furiously from under the strands of matted hair, betraying his true state of mind. Damian nodded to him, and Cole smiled, his long fangs showing. His smile was so vicious and deadly that Damian couldn’t help but shudder inwardly.
“Just break this barrier, brother,” the vampire hissed, taking a step closer. “I’ll tear him limb from limb with my bare hands.”
Damian nodded and switched his attention to the task at hand. “Together,” he said. He didn’t look at his friends, but the magical and elemental field around them spiked, and he knew they were ready. As his hands lit up with the bright orange glow of his elemental energy, he pressed them tighter to the shield and started to chant.
“Stop that at once, Enforcer!” yelled Azazel, baring his terrifying fangs. He squeezed Ace’s throat tighter, forcing a scream of pain out of her. “If you continue what you’re doing, I swear on my power I will kill her.”
Damian lifted his face, and his glowing eyes met the menacing stare of the Fallen. “Go ahead,” he said calmly. For a second, his eyes moved to Ace, and he saw shock imprinted in her widened eyes. “You’re trying to blackmail the wrong person, scumbag, and you chose the wrong person as your shield.”
Everything inside him twisted with remorse, and his heart responded with a dull ache as with agonizing clarity, he realized that the Fallen would kill Ace as soon as they broke his protective shield, and there was nothing he could do about it. Besides, he couldn’t let Azazel release another monster capable of destroying the world.
Averting his gaze, he continued his chant, Oleg’s and Cossack’s voices echoing every word he said. A soft light spread through the power field, devouring the purple glimmer of Azazel’s magic.
“Her death will be on your hands!” shouted the Fallen, applying more pressure on Ace’s throat.
“She’s a Destiny Enforcer,” growled Damian, directing more of his energy through the power field. “When she accepted the mantel, she swore to put her duty above all, including her own life. She’s not afraid to die, because for a Destiny Enforcer death is never the end… So, do what you must.”
“Cole…” Ace didn’t really say his brother’s name. Her lips barely moved, forming the word, but Damian had no doubt that Cole had heard her.
Damian winced,
feeling the coolness of his brother’s hand on his shoulder as the vampire halted next to him, but he couldn’t stop what he was doing. He glanced from side to side, exchanging a quick look with Cossack and Oleg to confirm that they were ready and increased the potency of his magic. The power field began to vibrate under their joint assault, emitting a low buzzing noise.
“Ace, look at me,” said Cole, coming as close to the barrier separating them as he could.
She met his eyes, her face contorted with fear. Cole clenched his teeth, his hands tightening into fists for a brief moment. Then he squared his shoulders, and his vampiric energy doubled around him. He sheathed his sword and moved his hand over the surface of the barrier without touching it.
“Look into my eyes, my sweet girl… It’s going to be all right… relax… relax…” His whisper—a deep, insinuating purr—flowed through the cave in soft waves, intoxicating and compelling, and for the first time, Damian felt the true power of an ancient vampire up close and personal, even though it wasn’t directed at him.
Ace’s lips parted, and her eyelids closed slowly, tears escaping from under her fluttering eyelashes. Cole let go and stepped back, his arms dangling powerlessly at his sides, unadulterated torment and despair reflected in his dimming eyes.
Abruptly, a powerful tremor ran through the floor. The walls shook, and a grinding noise filled the cave. Azazel’s eyes lit up with a poisonous purple shine, and he laughed, the sound of his laughter making Damian’s blood run cold. A deep fracture ran up across the wall behind the Fallen, originating from the floor. It moved fast, outlining a semblance of a door.
The tremors increased, but Damian could sense it wasn’t a true earthquake since it wasn’t powered by the energy of Earth. Its origin was so dark and evil, that his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything around him spun, making his stomach clench. He glanced at Oleg, noticing that he looked just as sick as he felt. Cossack kept chanting, channeling more and more of his magic through the shield, seemingly unaffected by the influx of dark magical energy.
The crack ran its path, outlining a large rectangular area. Still holding a half-dazed Ace in his clutches, Azazel turned slightly and extended his right hand toward the wall, the silver of the Hollow Band’s ring on his middle finger reflecting the light of the torches. With an ear-splitting noise, a giant piece of rock outlined by the fracture started to move forward.
“Keep going,” Damian yelled to his friends, taking a step away from the power field.
He closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the elemental power of Earth. Then he pressed his hand over the rune on his shoulder, assuming his true form. Directing all the magic and power he had at the moving rock, he commanded it to stop. In response to his action, the Fallen increased the flow of his malignant magic, and the dark energy within the boundaries of the dome seemed to strengthen tenfold.
Damian screamed, his entire body straining, sweat running down his face and back. Leaning forward, he outstretched his arms toward the wall, but no matter how much power he applied, the rock still kept moving. With his free hand, Azazel squeezed Ace’s throat, and she cried out in pain, ripped out of the peaceful oblivion Cole had put her in. Giving up on his efforts, Damian manifested his daggers and struck the barrier with all he had, applying all the power and physical strength he could gather.
The power field howled and screeched—the sound characteristic of failing wards, and at this moment, he knew he was close to demolishing it. The grinding of the moving rock increased, painfully reverberating in his head, and then with a thunderous bang, the stone blew up, shards of rock and debris propelled in all directions within the dome.
From the confinements of a small, dark cell, a tall man emerged, moving soundlessly as if he was incorporeal. His skeletal body was wrapped in massive iron chains. His thin, gray hair fell over his face that looked like a skull, his closed eyes surrounded by black shadows. A thin, silvery line of the Hollow Band encircled his neck. Azazel shouted four words in Dragon tongue, and the Hollow Band shimmered and vanished, appearing in the Fallen’s hand.
The man opened his eyes, and they ignited with the malignant, yellow glow of his magic. He roared, rising a few inches off the ground, and spread his arms wide, the entire cave shaking and rattling, rocks falling from the ceiling. The chains fell off of him, turning into dust, and he lowered himself, stepping soundlessly on the floor with his bare feet.
Azazel let go of Ace, and she fell to the ground unconscious, a puddle of red liquid spreading under her body, soaking her long, black hair. He touched the man’s skinny arm, and a fanatical glimmer ignited in his eyes. The Fallen held out the Hollow Band he was holding to the man and bowed to him. The man touched the silvery band with his dirty, hooked nail and it vanished, disappearing in a cloud of light, wispy smoke.
“You’re free, my lord,” the Fallen said. “Leave now to fight another day. I’ll deal with them swiftly and join you later.”
“No!” Damian shouted. “NO!” His desperate scream boomed through the cave as he attacked the vibrating power barrier with all he had in his exhausted body.
The man snickered, exposing his rotten, brown teeth, derision gleaming in his yellow eyes. Then he nodded to Azazel and snapped his fingers, vanishing from the cave.
For a heartbeat, Damian froze in place, unable to take a breath, his hands rising to his head. But adrenalin charged by despair surged through him, ripping him out of his stupor, and he screamed, striking the power field again and again with his bleeding fists and his daggers until it finally failed with an ear-splitting ruckus.
Azazel spun around and moved toward him, chanting something under his breath. His frame started to enlarge, and a split-second later, his head touched the ceiling of the cave, his webbed wings overshadowing the light of the torches. He threw his terrifying head back and roared, anger and excitement in his deafening voice.
Unable to bear the sound, Damian dropped his daggers and pressed his hands to his ears, blood streaming between his fingers. He leaned forward, the floor slipping from under his feet. From the corner of his eyes, he saw his brother. Blood was dripping from Cole’s ears and eyes, but he was still on his feet.
“Oleg! Use your controlling ring!” Cole shouted, his voice barely audible in the surrounding cacophony.
He reached under his trench coat and threw something up in the air. With his blurred vision, Damian followed the trajectory of the shining object, recognizing the main band of the Hollow Band—the one they had retrieved from the lake.
For a heartbeat, Oleg’s eyes widened, but he reacted almost immediately. Pointing at the Fallen, he shouted the same four words of the Dragon tongue the Fallen had used just a few seconds ago. Azazel’s eyes flew wide open as he realized what had just happened, but it was too late to do anything. The Hollow Band vanished from the air and manifested around Azazel’s neck.
The Fallen howled, his face contorted by an unbearable pain, his fingers clutching the silver band as if it were suffocating him. The gleam in his eyes vanished, and he returned to his normal size, lowering to the floor. He stopped before Oleg and dropped his head, his shoulders hunched. A low growl rumbled in Oleg’s throat as he ripped the silver ring off Azazel’s finger and put it in his pocket.
Damian straightened, wiping his bloodied hands on his half-torn tank top. He approached Oleg and extended his hand, a pair of glowing handcuffs materializing in his palm. Oleg froze in place, his face turning into a stone mask void of any emotions.
“Even though he is under the influence of the Hollow Band, this is the best way to control Azazel’s power,” Damian explained quietly. “The Destiny Cuffs will strip it.”
“I know how the Destiny Cuffs work,” snapped Oleg, taking a step back. “I tried them on my own skin.” Then he cleared his throat and shuffled from foot to foot. “Sorry, Damian. That was uncalled for.” He rubbed his forehead, a guilty smile touching his lips. “Just some bad memories I have. It has nothing to do with you. I hope you don�
��t mind, but I have my orders from Master Alliandr. I have to bring the Fallen to his dungeons in Kendral. The Gray Tower can hold him imprisoned and his powers under control just as well as any Destiny Council’s holding facilities. The Destiny Council has agreed with his decision, so if you have to, you can contact your… um… commanding officer, they will confirm it.”
Master Alliandr was known for his loyalty to the World of Magic, and despite his young age, he was one of the most powerful and knowledgeable Masters of Power who had ever ruled Kendral. Besides, the young Master always fought on the side of light, and if Oleg said the Destiny Council had agreed with his choice, he had no reason to doubt his words. Making a quick decision, Damian nodded and stepped back, the Destiny Cuffs vanishing from his hands.
Opening his other sight, he glanced at Ace who was sprawled on the floor in a puddle of her own blood. Her face was drained of color, and her chest was barely moving, but the soft glow of her human soul was still intact even though polluted by strange purple inclusions, and that told him she was alive. As long as her heart was beating, he could heal her.
“Cole, see if you can heal Ace while Oleg and I will take care of the Fallen,” he said, giving his brother a quick tap on his shoulder.
Cole nodded and headed toward Ace, lowering to his knees next to her. Lifting her limp body, he placed her on his lap and bit his wrist.
“Let’s do it, Oleg,” said Damian, approaching him.
Oleg took a knee and placed his hand against the rocky surface of the floor, closing his eyes. The elemental energy of Earth doubled, and his entire body lit up with the soft, orange glow of his power.
“Sandhya, my Queen” he whispered, calling to the Elemental of Earth, “I summon thee…”
