He felt himself spinning and whirling through the air, carried as swiftly as if he were flying on Kafara's back once more.
Then the burning pain assaulted him. It flared through his body, tearing into his flesh. He crashed into something level and hard. It was a stone floor. The wind had dropped him on a crenelated tower. Snowy mountain peaks surrounded him and in the distance the ocean shimmered beneath the flat light fighting through storm clouds.
A second whirlwind deposited Avulash opposite him. The Tsal captain's stomach was ripped open and his intestines hung on his lap as he leaned against the wall. Despite his horrific wounds, he was laughing.
"Impressive," he said, his voice weak and breaking. "More than I ever imagined you capable of achieving. I am proud to be the one to defeat you. Truly a worthy foe. But a beast nonetheless."
Lethos wanted to rise, but he had no strength, and though no flame touched his body, he felt as if he were consumed in fire.
"You manage to keep your wits about you yet?" Avulash said. He stuffed his guts back into the cavity of his stomach. As Lethos stared at him through hate-clouded eyes, he watched the wound seal. Avulash laughed again.
"The wild stone will kill you yet."
Lethos lifted his heavy head and glanced over his shoulder. Just to look at it burned his eyes.
A huge chunk of black wild stone pulsing with streaks of glowing yellow sat in what seemed a bronze bowl. Its power was flowing into him, burning him from the inside and soon to burst him open like a wine skin filled past capacity. Even if he could siphon the power off into Grimwold, too much poured too fast. Straight from the source, the magical radiance was too much for him.
Avulash struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his torso but the wounds now gone. He leaned heavily on the wall, and rubbed the blood from his face with the back of his wrist.
"I will enjoy watching you roast from the inside out."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Syrus kept his back to Valda as she finished wearing her clothes. She had not asked him to look away, but propriety dictated he give her some measure of privacy in this small room. He instead studied the strange tools that were laid out on another table beside Valda. These were fastidiously clean metal objects. The purposes of the tools were too obscure and seemed only designed to inflict pain. Yet they were laid out in neat rows as if organized by need or function. The glowing blue globe that Syrus put next to them reflected a dozen times across all the tools.
"Thank you for coming for me," she said. "I assume Lethos and Grimwold have come as well."
"Only Lethos," Syrus said, still facing away. "Grimwold went to find your brother who had fled. Both are now missing."
He remained facing away but Valda's silence was louder than anything she could voice. Syrus rarely hoped ill for anyone, but Thorgis's cowardice had once again brought them all great danger. He hoped Grimwold used his power to break Thorgis's will and then banish him or worse. It was a cruel thing to think, but such fools as Thorgis were dangerous to everyone.
"You may turn around," Valda said. Her face was red with either anger or fear, but she seemed as vibrant as ever. One hand lingered over the cut at the base of her throat, tracing the edge of it. "How did you get in here?"
Syrus told the entire tale and showed her the symbol on his chest. She winced at how her loyal crew had died, but she did not judge him for it. Syrus was glad she reserved any criticism, for his guilt was heavy enough.
"I could paint the same upon you," he offered. "We have to get out of here yet, but not until we retrieve your father's book."
Valda shook her head. "I see the value of that mark, but I will not have my body tainted with Tsal blood magic any more than it already has been."
His face grew warm, and he fiddled with the tools rather than look at her. "You've no memories of what happened after your capture? Where Avulash took the book?"
"They dragged me down here, then removed my clothing. I thought I would be raped, but Avulash and his men had no interest. They forced me to drink something bitter and cold. Then I only remember awakening but being unable to move, like my back had been glued to the table."
Syrus pulled up the strange blade that had opened the secret compartment. It had been set alongside the other tools. "Did they react when they found this on you?"
Valda frowned and removed it from his hands. "I don't remember at all. I never saw what happened to the book, and we've no time to search for it."
"It will show us how to disable the beacon."
"Avulash wouldn't have put it back in the same place," Valda said, now moving to the door with the ceremonial dagger in one hand and the blue globe in the other. "Searching will only get us caught again and waste your bravery. Obey me now and worry for your goddess later."
The casual order was a like a slap that awakened him from mindless obedience. "I must be too exhausted to think straight. Of course you are right."
She led him into the hall and after a moment picked a sloping path upward. She whispered as she led him out of the darkness. "If Lethos is battling Avulash, then we have to get to the top of the highest tower. The wild stone will be there, according to what you've said. We have to cut it off so that the Tsal won't draw strength from it. Lethos will need all the advantage he can get."
"But how do we cut it off? It is a good plan, but I never learned how to block the power the wild stone radiates."
"It was blocked on the ark," she said. "So there is a way."
Valda was thoughtful as she slowed down at the end of the passage. She held up a hand to signal that he wait. Squeaking, whining voices echoed down the hall. The blue globe in her hand seemed to blaze like a bonfire. She looked at it and then set it on the ground. Without a word, she swooped forward again with the ceremonial blade out.
The darkness engulfed them, and Syrus ran his hand along the wall to keep his bearings. Valda made just enough noise to follow her toward a rectangle of light.
Once they reached the edge of that light, they peered out to a courtyard filled with dozens of the red and black-skinned slaves. They stood transfixed, looking up at the sky. Syrus could hear the moan of the whirling storm clouds that passed overhead, and the slaves uniformly cowered beneath these.
"Lethos is in there," Valda said.
"How do you know?"
She did not answer. Instead she leaned out the door to survey the path toward the far side of the courtyard. Syrus could see the double door opened into the blackness of the main fortress. Within would be the passage and stairs leading to the top of the tower.
Only the courtyard was clogged with the inhumanly strong slaves, any one which could break Syrus and Valda with no effort.
He was about to ask for Valda's plan when she revealed it. She held the dagger out and stepped into the courtyard.
CHAPTER FIFTY
Lethos could no longer see anything but white pain. He could hear nothing but the roar of blood in his ears. He felt nothing but a seething, rippling burn that wove beneath his flesh. His mind held no thought other than escape.
But there was no place to flee.
Avulash had dropped him in front of the wild stone. The force of magical radiance from such a large chunk was like sitting beneath an enormous waterfall.
Lethos was dying.
Yet deep within him, somewhere in the field of searing white agony, something else roared.
A demon or spirit, something that used the primal form of the Minotaur to manifest itself in the world, was unwilling to sink back into the mist realms from where it had been called.
And it was not concerned with wild stone or magical radiance. All it wanted was blood and destruction and Lethos was its conduit to such pleasures.
"Give yourself over to me." Its deep voice echoed through Lethos's mind, or what was left of it. He had no words or thoughts, just feelings that were a blaze of confusion.
"I will save you from death. You will live to have revenge. This will please us both."
Lethos resisted. Better death than life as the slave of a demon. If he could not spare the world from the Tsal, he could at least spare it from the demon he carried. His death would mean Grimwold's as well. But perhaps Valda was right. His powers were inherently evil, even if not used as such, and in time only corruption could follow. Nothing would be able to stop him.
Death for both of them would spare the world at least one disaster. Humanity would have to deal with the Tsal on their own.
"No," the bull voice roared. "I ask only to spare your life. I would obey you as a slave does its master. You have seen that I already do."
Lethos's thoughts were fading beneath the agony, and the white light grew fainter. The roar in his ears began to echo. He was leaving this world for the next, slipping from his cursed body and ending a life of frustration and madness.
"You condemn the world with your selfishness." The deep voice was but an echo. "I will endure, little man, and I will return. But your part was meant for a greater destiny, and you have thrown it aside. Such a fool."
"Help me, then." Lethos either spoke the words or thought them. He did not know. "I don't want to die. Do what you must."
The white masking his vision melted like snow, revealing gray clouds above. The pain still wracked his body but felt manageable, like stretching out a cramped muscle and finding relief. The pounding in his ears softened and he was aware of a blood-freezing roar.
It was his own. He now hulked above the wild stone in its strange bronze clam-shell casing. The pulsing yellow made his own eyes throb to look at, but he felt vibrant and strong. He whirled to face Avulash, who had backed away with his violet sword glowing bright.
Lethos roared at him, knowing how the blade had hurt him before. Avulash stumbled back against the crenellations as Lethos placed one giant hoof before him.
This was different. He was bigger than ever before. He felt stronger--and meaner. It was not enough to kill Avulash, he wanted to rend him into bits and chew each morsel of flesh. He wanted to cover himself with the blood of every living thing on this island then smash the world into nothingness.
As the massive Minotaur shape lumbered forward, the part that was still Lethos wondered how the tower had not collapsed beneath his weight. This Minotaur shape was the largest yet, and from the sheer power filling him he guessed he could tear the entire tower up if he desired.
"You beast," Avulash shouted. He sheathed his sword. Lethos intuitively understood that the demon had boosted his resistance to such magic now. Yet even without his weapon Avulash showed nothing but contempt.
"I am the captain of a white ark," he shouted. "I am not the weaklings my brothers were. I am the greatest of my kind. I found the way through the mists. You cannot defeat me!"
"Away with you, little fly." The rumbling, demonic voice that spilled out of Lethos's mouth shocked him. He had never before uttered better than a grunt in this form. Yet these were not his words. He existed somewhere in a corner of this demon's mind. If he had any control over it, he did not feel it. He only hoped the demon didn't realize this, or perhaps it did. The Minotaur raised a massive fist of glossy black fur and hammered Avulash.
Though his fist was bigger than Avulash himself, the Tsal caught it with both hands and stopped it. He braced against the wall with his feet and shoved back.
The demon laughed as its hand swung away.
"You will see the might of the Tsal." Avulash reached a hand toward the wild stone. "You think you have seen a dragon before? That was a mockery."
Avulash transformed so fast it was as if he had been blown from the tower and replaced with something else.
A dragon. It was covered in glittering black scales over a serpentine body. Hateful yellow eyes glared out from what seemed a shape of pure darkness.
The creature now matched Lethos for size, until it unfurled its wings. The span of those leathery wings was enough to cast Lethos into shadow.
Even the demon trembled before the majesty of the dragon. Lethos felt a stab of doubt in the demon's rage.
Avulash, if it was still him, reared back on hind legs and pulled his head back. His massive jaws fell open to reveal teeth like sabers. Yet more fearful than the teeth was the distortion of heat that rippled the air before its open jaws.
Then the world turned to fire.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Syrus's hands turned to ice when Valda charged into the courtyard. Scores of squat, muscular slaves with lost eyes and red and black striped flesh stared up at the tower. They recoiled from the screams that echoed down. At first none of them noticed Valda, though she loomed over them with her golden hair flying behind as she ran.
Then one whirled on her and gave a high-pitched squeal.
That galvanized Syrus into action. After all he had endured, he had the strength of sick child. He had not even thought to take a weapon, seeing how ineffectual common blades were against the Tsal. Now he was hurtling after the space Valda had made through the Tsal slaves as they began to notice her.
Yet Valda only held her small dagger high and shook her hair away from her face. The first slave moaned as if in agony and backed away. The small, beady eyes of others nearby widened and they pitched back to give her space. Syrus's burst faltered and he too stopped in surprise.
The slaves of the courtyard converged on them, even as the screams and roars from the top of the tower grew more intense. They had only eyes for what had burst into their midst. When Valda turned to Syrus, he saw her grim determination but nothing more.
"You know me now," she shouted over their heads. "Do not doubt any longer. I am your queen, the last descendant of High King Eldegris. Your false masters will soon be finished, and you will know freedom at last. Now step aside for your queen. If you cannot aid me, then do not hinder me."
Syrus stood dumbfounded. A gibbering panic swept the crowd of slaves, and they pulled back from her, watching her either in awe or turning aside in shame. The way to the tower was cleared. From high above a deep voice rumbled indistinct words that made Syrus's heart quicken with terror. Valda's satisfied smile fell, and she started for the tower. The slaves in her way gasped and crashed into their friends as they tried to avoid her.
"These used to be the people of Norddalr," Syrus said as he jogged behind her. "They still remember you, remember their old lives. How horrible!"
They entered the cool darkness of the main fortress as something high above shook the tower. Valda jumped onto the first stair, her voice breathless as she answered. "I remember how some of the slaves looked at me when Avulash took me captive. These were my father's subjects, or his warriors. Not like the other slaves that attacked me on their ark."
"How did you know they would obey?" They were halfway up the winding stairs when a mighty roar shook the rock walls and sent dust raining down on them.
"Just a feeling. What other choice did we have?"
At the top of the stairs was the door that exited to the tower rooftop. Syrus had ran up the stairs in a blur, passing emptied guard rooms and barracks without ever seeing what was inside. The door was of old blackened wood with dull iron nails. A time-worn metal ring hung from it and Valda reached her hand to grab it.
Fire licked the outside of the door and spilled through the cracks between the planks. Valda leapt back with a girlish shriek unfitting to the bold warrior image she had cultivated. Syrus was little better, screaming in surprise as he snatched her back.
"By all the gods, what is happening out there?" Valda leaned back in Syrus's arm, her body trembling.
"The Tsal can use their blood magic to breathe fire. One tried it on me while I was trapped in Tsaldalr. I was lucky to avoid it." Valda shot forward again, reaching for the door, but Syrus grabbed her back. "Wait. They can do it more than once."
"There's no time to wait." She yanked the door open on a scene that defied explanation.
The tower was tall and wide, a massive construct that seemed capable of holding an army at attention. Yet now it seemed crowded and sma
ll with the two gargantuan beasts wrestling atop it.
Lethos's Minotaur form was easily three times as large as it had ever been, and was engulfed in flames. Massive curled horns spread as wide as a raiding ship, their tips as sharp as eagle talons. These were plunging easily into the flesh of an equally huge dragon. It was all in black, massive wings flapping as it wrapped its claws into Lethos's burning body. It was trying to lift the Minotaur, but it was too heavy for it. Instead, Lethos's claws dug out sections of black scales like a miser runs his fingers through his coins.
"Lethos is in trouble," Valda said.
"Make that all of us." Syrus recoiled as the dragon's teeth sunk into Lethos's shoulder, having barely turned aside in time to avoid a bite to his throat. Blood gushed, and the Minotaur howled. The scent of burning fur and flesh was choking as bits of both blew away into the wind created by the fanning dragon wings.
Valda rushed into the scene that Syrus could not stop watching. The dragon's tail flicked at them as it wrestled atop the Minotaur, and whether intentional or not, it struck Valda's leg and sprawled her to the wall.
Syrus cried out and rushed to her. She had struck her head and her lower leg was cleanly snapped. A sickening bulge showed on her shin, though her fine white skin remained intact.
"Forget me," she said. "The wild stone is right there. Close it off."
Syrus followed her pointing finger, and sitting in a bronze clamshell was a massive hunk of black stone that pulsed with zigzagging yellow light. It was as if it struggled to breathe under great exertion.
"Close the shell," Valda said. "That has to be it."
Syrus threw himself on it, but the shell lid did not budge. Lethos roared as the dragon continued to dig its claws into his hide.
Heart racing as if he had run a hundred miles, he felt along the edge until he came to a wheel. It took both hands, but he yanked it into motion.
The clamshell lid wobbled then began to lower. He started laughing, turning the wheel frantically.
The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) Page 34
