"No. Your army is destroyed. Those were Demont's toys. Made in your world, of your resources. The D'karon was a force of four. Three, now that Teht is dead. Ah . . . but, then, you never did understand that part, did you? I suppose now is as good a time as any. You thought the name for our race, for our kind, was D'karon. You were wrong. D'karon is a military term. It means ‘first wave.’ You thought you'd been facing an invasion. The invasion hadn't even begun," he explained, with a grin that cut to the soul.
The vast field of black above him began to ripple. Whirls of clouds wafted and twisted, revealing whispers and glimpses of things unspeakable. Epidime's grin grew to a smile.
"Until now," he added.
On cue, the whole of the triangular void erupted. Black clouds rushed out with the force of an avalanche, tearing the heroes from the ground and whipping them through the air. The howling of the fetid wind was joined by a rumble and quake. The ground shook as though a landslide were bringing the very mountains down upon them. The wind slowed, not as though it was cut off, but as though the pressure behind it was slowly being equalized.
By the time the heroes found themselves on the ground once more, they were scattered to the far reaches of the valley. The blackness was still. It hung like a fog in the air, filtering the light from the obelisks into a pale haze. The stench was a choking combination of arcane odors. In the shifting, smoky fog, dark forms moved indistinctly at the threshold of vision.
A cold wind began to pour into the valley. Ether's windy form rose up, the swirling mass trailing behind her, lifting the black veil that hung over the valley. It revealed a sight worse than any one of them could have imagined. The ground was alive with creatures, wretched beasts that had no place in this world. No two seemed the same, each a mass of spidery legs and lashing tendrils, snapping mandibles and gyrating wings, chitinous shells and glistening claws. The horrid creatures ranged from the size of a large dog to as massive as an elephant, with the exception of three.
The first was barely a creature at all. In shape, it vaguely resembled a root that one might find in an apothecary jar. A leathery indigo hide stretched over a body tapered at either end and massively thick in the middle, studded over its entire surface with spiky barbs. The barbs along the bottom sprouted deep violet stalks, shiny with something the consistency of syrup that dripped from the barbs, and tipped with swollen, spherical orange ends. The stalks hoisted its body, easily the size of a house, from the ground like legs.
Behind it was a creature almost twice as tall. Its body seemed to be composed entirely of three thick appendages joined to a central bulge. The limbs were tubes thick as Lain was tall and ended in a ring of flat, pointed teeth that spread like toes as it walked. Its skin was hidden beneath a coat of white fur. On the misshapen bulge where the limbs came together, hundreds of small black eyes, scattered across top and bottom, blinked randomly.
The last was a beast so tall it was not until it had come out from beneath the black void that it was able to unfold itself to its full height. The thing was standing on seven narrow legs, thick as a tree trunk where it left the boulder-sized body, and tapering to a point along its segmented length. It resembled a daddy long legs, the body sagging between the upward-arcing limbs. While only seven touched the ground, the twisted thing had more legs than could be counted. Most were tiny, twitching things that spiked the body like an urchin. Randomly scattered among them were larger ones, a trio of which surrounded a clacking, squid-like beak, the only part of its body not sprouting limbs.
Standing among the hell's menagerie were the three remaining generals. Epidime's infuriating look of satisfied superiority stood in stark contrast to the deep, penetrating look of madness that twisted the remnants of Bagu's face. His obsidian sword was joined by a second in his other hand, and his gaze was locked firmly on Lain. Demont was atop the reared-up neck of a beast that looked to be a horse-sized combination of a serpent and a centipede. He had a distracted look on his face, as though he had more important things on his mind than battle. With a single gesture from this third general, the demon horde washed over the icy ground like a tide.
The Chosen hurled themselves into the fray. Lain's sword was in constant motion, lightning-quick slashes opening gaping wounds on the larger beasts and dividing the smaller ones into pieces. Streaks of silver flashed toward the airborne creatures that strayed to near to him, sending the beasts crashing to the ground with daggers buried deep in each. The gems of his blade quickly took on a brilliant glow. Most of the creatures were left behind, hopelessly slower than their target. Speed, however, could only overcome so much, and before long Lain found himself facing a wall of creatures too large to avoid and too well-armored to strike down. Lashing talons and snapping jaws closed in around him. The assassin tightened his grip on his weapon and angled the blade against their attacks.
Myn took to the air. The towering, spider-like creature was moving across the valley with staggering speed, and she knew that it could quite easily be a threat to any of her friends. Slashing and searing those winged beasts foolish enough to face her, Myn climbed high into the air. When the chaos was far below her, she turned, tucked her wings, and dove, flames streaming from her gaping maw and fury burning in her eyes.
The ponderous, many-legged creature lumbered blindly, only seeming to become aware of the dragon's approach a moment before she collided. Tooth and claw clamped about the thick base of one of its legs with the full force of momentum behind them. The shell-like surface creaked, cracked, and split, gushing dark green blood. The beak released an earsplitting wail and the legs long enough to reach Myn began to slash and scrape madly at the dragon's scales. Myn ignored them, working industriously at removing the leg.
Ether's form flickered to flame, anger burning in her mind like never before. To the others, these beasts were merely a threat. To Ether they were a personal slight, a slap in the face of all that she embodied. She was nature given form, but these beasts . . . they were creations of another nature entirely. She dipped low, charring a path through the smaller beasts, injuring as many as she could as she made her way to the indigo skinned beast, a very definite sequence of events forming in her mind. She swept below the creature, her blazing touch sizzling against the tendrils that held it aloft. As each one was scalded and blistered, it retreated into its barb.
By the time she'd passed completely beneath the monster, too few tendrils remained. It teetered and finally collapsed to the side, its massive bulk rolling over a cluster of its fellow invaders, crushing them utterly. New, glistening tentacles were already sprouting out from beneath it to raise the beast again when Ether landed atop it. No sooner had she done so than she leapt back into the air, searing pain stabbing at her everywhere she'd touched the beast. Her flames flared brighter as she dove for another attack. Again, she was repelled. The creature's hide glowed lightly where she'd touched it. The glow then spread and faded. It couldn't be . . . this beast fed off of her energy.
Myranda thrust her staff into the earth and cast a tremor forward. The ice and stone rolled forward like a cresting wave, hurling beasts aside. She sprinted through the wake behind it. The scrabbling of beasts trying to right themselves after being whipped aside and the screech of beasts trampling them to get to her stabbed at Myranda's ears. None of it mattered. Her eyes were focused on a form wading unmolested through the sea of demons, grin on his face.
Epidime stood stone-still as the wave of earth approached. A flex of Myranda's mind split the rippling earth around him, throwing aside the beasts that stood guard around him. A moment later Myranda stepped into the clearing. A wave of one hand coaxed a ring of stone spires from the ground, walling off the creatures. A whispered phrase supplemented it with a glimmering shield that curved up over them. The pair stood in a personal arena, for the moment sealed away from the rest of the conflict.
"Just the two of us, once again. So this is it. This is all it takes to break you. I spent hours trying to find my way to that last corner of your mind. Weeks trying to weaken
you enough to loosen your grip on it, and all of this time I needed but to find your father. One glimpse of him and you abandon everything you believe in," Epidime remarked.
"Release him!" Myranda hissed, her staff raised and swirling with a spell ready to be cast.
Epidime waved a hand dismissively and the churning magic slipped away.
"For the sake of privacy, I will allow the shield and the stone, for now. This is far too delicious a torment to share with the others," Epidime said, his sinister tone turning Myranda's stomach. "You've more power now than you've ever had before, and what can you do with it?"
He thrust his hand forward. A wave of energy smashed Myranda against the wall.
"Nothing," he said.
Ivy tried to gather herself. She was afraid. Maddeningly so. The light of it burned in her mind, but she simply didn't have the strength to slip over the edge. Perhaps it was something to be grateful for. Perhaps another time she would have been. It wasn't the towering behemoths that concerned her. It wasn't the rush of unidentifiable forms before her. Monsters and beasts were things she had faced so often in her short time with the others that they were almost comforting. What filled her with fear was the sight of Demont, though even the threat of the horrible things he had done to her and the horrible things he might to do her friends was not what frightened her most.
What frightened her most was what thinking of those things stirred up in her. Behind the fear, and growing stronger with every moment, was the hate. A hate that might be strong enough to do what the fear was failing to. A hate that might make her into what she'd been before. A hate that might not let go. The frightened creature backed slowly away as Demont drew nearer. She raised her weapons.
"Get away from me!" Ivy cried.
"You are my experiment, and there is still much I can learn from you," Demont said. "Now come."
"I won't! I'm not your experiment. I'm one of the Chosen, I'm one of the ones who . . ." Ivy began, her voice trailing off and a familiar, empty look drifting into her eyes.
Demont's fingers were wrapped tightly about the largest half of Ivy's crystal. All of her thoughts stopped cold, save for the deepest, least controlled of her feelings. Demont pointed firmly toward the portal. Ivy slowly began to march forward. There was no hesitation. There couldn't be. There was only obedience. Her face twitched slightly.
Lain's blade was hard at work. The monsters were sturdy, but nothing that they had to defend themselves with could withstand the bite of his sword for more than a few swipes. Despite this, the sheer number of beasts attacking had kept him at a standstill. Worse, the number continued to grow as the flow of creatures dropping through the portal continued. Of course, Desmeres’s blade had more tricks up its sleeve. The gleaming crystals, having filled to bursting on the dark power that dwelled within his foes, were turned to the spell Deacon had identified as strength.
At first, nothing seemed to change. He felt as he always had. The weapon felt no lighter. Only when he put blade to foe did the effects of the spell become obvious. His sword passed through the thick shelled horror before him without hesitation, and without resistance. A second and third swipe left the three largest threats in pieces. A quick leap, one that carried him far farther than he'd intended, landed him well behind the crush of enemies. His eyes turned to Bagu. The general seemed to be waiting for him.
Twin black-bladed swords were raised defensively. Lain leapt again, now familiar with the extent of his strength. The agile assassin soared through the air, pivoting himself and angling his sword. When the time was right, he brought the weapon down, the lightning-fast motion adding its momentum to his own. Bagu's swords were crossed before him. The three blades met. The air in the shallow valley rang with a screeching far louder than any of the beasts that filled it. A moment later, Lain was on the ground. A moment after that the tips of Bagu's swords fell as well, sliced through.
The general lurched back. The weapons he held, weapons that had been able to withstand anything that had been turned against them on a dozen worlds, had barely managed to deflect the assassin's blow enough to spare him its cut. Indeed, the front of his breast plate, already damaged by Lain once, now bore a new long gash. Bagu's flesh had been spared by a hair's breadth.
He looked to the malthrope only to see another slash aimed at him. A reflexive bit of magic sent Lain sliding back. In the few heartbeats that the distance had afforded him, Bagu uttered a dark incantation and his weapons were restored. Then he uttered another one. When Lain's weapon met Bagu's again, both blades held.
"You've been given magic, assassin. You think that it will give you what you need to defeat me. I shall teach you how wrong you are," Bagu hissed.
Lain fell back, shredded a few of the lesser beasts to restore his weapon's strength, and clicked a new spell into completion. Once again, it was the world that seemed to be affected, not he. The writhing mass of demons, the massive monsters, and the general before him all slowed to near stillness. When he moved, Lain almost felt as though he was in water. The air felt thick, pressing against him. He charged in, thrusting his sword forward, but an instant before it made contact, the general's weapon shot down, knocking it away.
"There is nothing you can do that I cannot," Bagu said, matching the spell’s effects.
The general traced an arcane symbol in the air and hissed a few more arcane words. The already dense air took on a tingling, living quality. Lain could feel it begin to burn and tear at him--not via some tangible wave of magic that could be deflected by his weapon, but directly. It was weak now, but each moment it grew stronger. Worse, he knew instantly that the slow onset of the spell’s effects were due to the effects of the spell he'd activated in the sword. The faint and fading glow of the weapon's gems assured him that if he did not cut this attack off at its source soon, he would be fully in its grasp with nothing to defend him. He rushed at Bagu, determined to end the foe before his spell could take full effect.
There was a creaking snap, like the felling of a half-rotten tree, and one of the legs of the spider-like creature dropped to the ground. Instantly, Myn turned her attention to the veritable thicket of lesser limbs that had been making steady progress at scraping their way through her hide. A blast of flame and a few mad rakes with her claws cost the creature's back nearly its full complement of waving feelers, the narrow things snapping like twigs.
Suddenly, a rapier-sharp talon carved a shallow gash down Myn's back. The dragon turned to find the monster had coiled one of its primary legs beneath itself and up the other side in hopes of skewering the fire-breather. Myn simply clamped her jaws on the groping point, dug her claws into the half-roasted back, and unfurled her wings. The vast sails began to beat at the air, tugging the already unstable creature further and further off balance. The beast struggled to free its trapped leg and stumbled to right itself. All it managed to do was bring those beasts nearest to its feet to swift and sudden ends. Finally, the monster toppled over, falling in a slow, flailing arc. Myn leapt free at the last moment and hung in the air as the fragile creature collapsed like a bundle of dry reeds and finally became still as the swarm of smaller creatures flowed over it.
Ether had assumed her stone form and was industriously tearing at one of the long seams along the side of the creature she fought. The beast's hide had withstood flame and cost the shapeshifter much of her strength, but the tendrils were vulnerable. That meant that it was the skin and the skin alone that could stand against her attacks. All that she had to do was find an opening, a point of entry.
Impossibly, the beast seemed to have no eyes, save the bulbs at the end of the tentacles, and no mouth. Those things that served as a beast's traditional points of weakness were wholly missing. That left her with the task of creating her own, and as stone fingers made slow progress to that end, the entire surface of the creature began to flutter and ripple. Finally, the seam split.
Ether shifted to fire and took to the air. The other seams were splitting as well, and one end of the beast w
as curling back. Like the blooming of some horrid flower, the beast opened. A bundle of tendrils lashed about inside what could now only be a mouth. Ether rushed inside.
In an instant, the monster snapped shut again. For a few long moments, there was nothing--then came the sound. The beast seemed to have no means of making such a sound, but still it came, a subdued, hissing, sizzling noise. The sound was accompanied by a glow that began at the seams, brilliant orange. The barbs on its surface soon took on the same radiant glow. Finally, the glow became more general, spreading across the beast's skin until the whole of the creature shone a smoldering red color, like a paper lantern. The glow faded as patches of the beast's flesh darkened to black.
A blazing orange form, for the moment surpassing even the portal in brightness, burst from inside and watched with grim satisfaction as the blackened husk cracked and crumbled away. The glowing form then shifted to stone and plummeted into the throng below her with the force of a battering ram.
#
"You should have left me to one of your allies--Ether or Lain. Someone who would have done what needed to be done. Instead you take me for yourself," Epidime mocked, assaulting Myranda with mystic attacks that, to his mild surprise, she was managing to fend off. "What can you do? The Chosen have not marked this body. Nothing can chase me from it while it still serves my purposes. Considering that my purpose is to torture you, I assure you, I do not intend to relinquish control until there is nothing left of your father."
"No!" Myranda cried, lashing out.
She held out her hand and wrenched Epidime aloft with her mind.
"I will do . . . what I must do," Myranda struggled through tears.
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself? Regardless, you are fooling no one," he jabbed. "You won't kill your own father. He is the last link you have to your life, your history. Besides, you know it would do you no good."
Myranda scoured her mind for anything she might be able to use to take her father out of the fight. Something had to exist that would render the body unusable for Epidime but would leave it whole. She lobbed sleep, paralysis, and a dozen other spells at Epidime, but she felt them fizzle and die. He seemed to raise defenses against them, one by one, that made the blasted spells useless. Her maddened mind finally came upon something that slipped through. It was clear from Epidime's expression that he was ill-prepared to deal with it.
The Book of Deacon Anthology Page 126
