Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2)

by Aaron Hodges

  “This cannot be coincidence,” Michael’s coughed through the smoke. “This has to be Earth magic. The demon has found us.”

  “How?” Gabriel asked. “No one but Jurrien and his priests knew we were travelling up the river. Could it not just have been an earthquake, no more than that?”

  “Either way, we had better get out of this building,” Enala observed. “I’ve never felt one like that, but we used to have earthquakes in Chole. There are usually aftershocks. Every so often buildings would collapse, so it’s best to move outside while you have the chance.”

  Caelin nodded. “Okay, let’s get out of here,” he moved for the door. The innkeeper, satisfied his property was at least safe from the flames, had already fled.

  Moving through the swinging doors, Caelin found the streets outside the inn empty. He looked around, surprised, and glimpsed the innkeeper disappearing round the corner at the top of the hill. The others followed him outside as he turned to look downhill towards the port.

  He took a step backwards, fear sending a chill right down to his toes.

  A dark forest now blocked the road, their black trunks towering above the buildings. Vines wrapped around the trees and slivered like snakes through the branches. The grey leaves whistled with the wind, dagger-like twigs stretching out towards them. Thorns stabbed from every surface of the vegetation. Not a hint of life came from the dark forest.

  Caelin saw the trees were marked by faces, their mouths open, twisted in pain. He watched as new vegetation sprang from the ground, advancing the forest towards them. He shuddered, dread gripping his very soul. There was no mistaking what they faced now.

  The demon had arrived.

  “We need to get to the ship,” Michael whispered beside him.

  “I know. That’s in our way,” he nodded towards the dark forest.

  “Then we cut our way through,” Gabriel insisted.

  “No,” Caelin glanced around, “nothing that goes in there is coming out alive.”

  “Can we go around then?”

  “I doubt it,” Enala’s face had paled, but she remained resolute. “The demon cannot know exactly where we are, or we’d be dead already. It is just making sure we can’t get to the river.”

  The rumbling came again, followed by a second quake. This time the earth itself rippled. The power of its movement knocked them from their feet. They crouched on the bricked road, eyes squeezed shut, and endured.

  When the shaking stopped, little remained of the buildings around them. Fortunately, the buildings in this area of Sitton had been made of wood, so most had collapsed inwards on themselves rather than toppling into the street. But flames were already taking light in the ruins, the smouldering remains of fireplaces and lanterns catching amidst the fresh kindling. Smoke drifted in the air.

  Then the laughter began; a bleak, evil sound that sucked the hope from their souls and the strength from their limbs. It echoed around the city, bouncing from the ruins to encircle them.

  “Come on, we have to try,” Caelin fought against the laughter’s pull, hauling himself to his feet.

  The others stood with him.

  “Where do we –?” the crackle of thunder interrupted Gabriel.

  They turned together to look at the forest. A bolt of lightning fell from the sky, disappearing somewhere amidst the blackened trees and leaving a white streak in Caelin’s vision. He stared, breath held, waiting.

  “Eric?” Michael whispered.

  *************

  The laughter chased them through the crumbling streets, haunting their footsteps like the ghosts of the past, driving them on. Eric felt a pain in his chest, an icy fist clenching hard around where the Soul Blade had pierced him. It grew stronger as they approached the inn.

  When they turned the final corner they slammed to a halt, shocked to find a murky forest stretching across their path. Faces of terror stared out from the trunks of the trees, red eyes alive with pain. Thorny vines waved at them, reaching out, alive, searching for prey. The forest itself stood dead, no birds or animals in sight, a perverted mirror of the temple courtyard.

  “The inn is on the other side, I think,” Inken murmured. “What do we do?”

  “Not far now,” Eric whispered back, already moving, instinct taking over.

  He reached out with his magic, summoning the power of a distant storm cloud. Thunder crashed and lightning flashed from the sky to strike his outstretched arm. A blue arc of energy took shape in his hand. With a scream of rage, he pointed it at the forest.

  Blue fire leapt from his fingers, burning its way through the dark apparitions. A strange, eerie scream sounded as the lightning touched the trees. The red vanished from the haunted eyes as the electric glow bathed them, and the vines curled back to wither and die. In seconds he had burnt a path through the evil forest.

  Eric grabbed Inken’s hand. “Let’s go!”

  They sprinted down the path as the lightning continued to burn its way closer to the inn. Vines and branches reached for them, thorny fingers grasping at their hair and clothes. Inken drew her sword and struck back without breaking stride, wild swings keeping the dark limbs at bay. A few seconds later they burst through the other side of the forest, into the last light of the dying sun.

  Except burning buildings now lit the city streets. By their light they saw their four companions, eyes wide, mouths open in astonishment. Inken and Eric raced towards them, eager to put distance between themselves and the twisted trees.

  “About time you two showed up,” Caelin wore an anxious smile. “We were getting worried.”

  “Sorry, we didn’t expect company here in Sitton. The demon is coming; we have to go. We can’t fight it.”

  “Agreed,” Caelin pointed behind them. “Think you can blast your way back out, Eric?”

  Eric turned, cursing to see the path had already closed.

  “Stay back,” he moved closer to the forest, gathering more lightning to him. The air crackled as the power danced in his hands, raising hairs on his arms. Pointing his finger, he unleashed the pent up force. The trees of the forest again gave way, burnt to ash.

  They moved quickly, shepparding Enala between them, Caelin bringing up the rear. They struck at the vines with their blades, ducking through the tangled assault. Only Michael was unarmed, although Eric had yet to draw his blade. Lightning crackled in his palm; that was all he needed.

  Halfway through the trees, a scream came from behind Eric. He spun, hand raised to strike, but a vine shot from the thicket and wrapped itself about his wrist. He gasped as thorns bit deep into his skin. Before he could react the vine gave jolt, and began to drag him towards the darkness beneath the trees. In horror he glimpsed one of the faces in the trees waiting for him, its eyes now warped with hunger, the dark mouth opening wide to reveal its twisted teeth.

  He fought against the vines pull, digging in his heels as he searched for help. But the others were also trapped, engulfed in a fury of whirling green. Two vines wrapped about Enala, dragging her towards the thicket as Inken struggled to cut herself free and reach the younger girl. Only Caelin held his own, his sword a far more dangerous viper than those assailing him.

  Eric gritted his teeth. He could not use the lightning to aid his friends in fear of hurting them, but he could free himself. Blood gushed down his arm where the thorns pierced him and the gaping mouth was growing steadily closer, but he had no intention of feeding it. As another vine shot towards him, he closed his eyes and willed the lightning outwards. A flash of blue light burned through his eyelids to the crash of thunder.

  Opening his eyes, he found nothing but scorched earth and ash. Nodding in satisfaction, he drew Alastair’s blade and leapt to Enala’s aid. The sword flicked out, slicing through the vine holding her sword arm. Free again to swing her weapon, Enala sliced away her other bindings and leapt back to the safety of the path. The others joined them, staring out at the writhing wall of vegetation.

  “What now?” Michael shouted.

&nb
sp; “Now, the game is over,” a rasping voice came from the shadows.

  A figure stepped into the light, black cloak billowing about him as the vines drew back. He held a sword clenched in one hand, a dark green glow seeping from the blade like blood. Beneath his cloak Eric glimpsed the pommel of a second sword. A pale hand reached up to pull back the hood, revealing the face of the old King Thomas. His demon black eyes stared across at them, their empty horror sending a chill to Eric’s stomach.

  Thomas, the demon, whatever he was now, began to laugh. “You did not think you could really escape, did you? That I would not find you? Archon’s minions are everywhere, his dark tendrils seeping into the minds of your people. Without the God’s to protect you, there is nowhere in the Three Nations you can hide, Enala.”

  A chill swept through Eric as the demon spoke Enala’s name. How does he know her? A memory rose, just out of reach, and then faded into the darkness.

  Caelin stepped forward, waving them back. “Run, get Enala out of here. I will try to hold it,” he turned to the demon. “You will not have her, demon.”

  The demon laughed, Thomas’ face twisting beyond recognition. “You think you can stop me, mortal? You think I could not kill any one of you in an instant?” it twirled the Soul Blade. “I do not even need Antonia’s’ magic, you are all helpless before my power.”

  Caelin spat, waving his sword. “I hear you were a great fighter once, one who did not need to use magic as a crutch in his battles. Are you too much a coward to fight me?”

  “A coward? No,” the demon loomed over Caelin. “But I am no fool either. You will not distract me, mortal,” he raised a hand and swung. An invisible force gripped Caelin by the shoulders and hurled him back into the others.

  The laughter came again, curling around them, stealing their courage.

  Eric stood against it, lightning crackling in his palm. “Leave now, demon.”

  The demon stared down at him. “So we meet again, Magicker. Your power was most exquisite. A shame I could not keep it,” it’s head twisted. “Perhaps this time,” it disappeared with a blink.

  Time stood still for Eric. He tried to move, to throw himself aside, but his feet seemed stuck, frozen in place. He knew what would come next, could almost feel the deathly touch of the Soul Blade. The breath hissed from his lungs as he watched his companions, saw the horror on their faces.

  Except Michael’s. Somehow the doctor was already moving, his shoulder crashing into Eric, smashing him from his feet. Eric tumbled backwards, eyes locked on Michael’s, his fear turning to dread.

  Michael stared back, and smiled.

  His eyes widened as the Soul Blade pierced his heart, but the smile did not falter. The black metal tore through his chest, the demon’s cackle ringing from the trees. A gurgling cough came from the doctor’s throat. Then the demon pulled back its blade, and sent Michael toppling to the ground beside him. Tears ran down Eric’s cheeks as the light faded from his friend’s eyes.

  “No!” he turned on the demon, lightning surging through his body. Without thought, he unleashed it on the creature.

  The bolt struck Thomas’ body and hurled him backwards into the thicket. Eric climbed to his feet, energy crackling in his fists, but the demon had vanished.

  Its voice echoed from all around. “Another foolish mortal,” it whispered. “Giving away his life for yours. But then, what use is a priest without his God, I wonder? Perhaps he simply wished to join her,” the cackle came again.

  Anger surged within Eric. He made no effort to control it, feeling the power building inside him, the raw energies of his wild magic. Ruin had already come to this city; his magic could not make things worse now. The demon had to be stopped.

  The magic rushed from him, summoning the elements of the Sky, binding them together in a conflagration of wind and hail and lightning.

  The rage washed all thought from Eric’s mind, leaving only the single, burning desire to destroy Archon’s dark servant.

  When the demon stepped back into the light, he unleashed his magic. The very air shook at its coming. With a crash it struck the demon, light flashing and wind gusting as it hurled the dark thing backwards. An explosion rung out as it struck, a blast of wind knocking them flat.

  Eric rolled across the ground, struggling to force his magic back into its cage, to protect his comrades from its wrath. He braced himself against the wind, squinting through the dust. Smoke hung where the demon had stood. The blast had blown Michael’s body clear. He lay face down, unmoving, blood pooling around him.

  The smoke began to clear, drifting away with the dying gusts of wind.

  And the soft cackle of the demon echoed through the forest.

  Nine

  Inken nocked an arrow, spinning to search the woods for the laughter’s source. A shiver ran through her soul, but she refused to bend. The bowstring twanged as she loosed into the smoke still drifting in the street. Before the arrow vanished she had already nocked another.

  “Caelin, Gabriel, get Enala out of here!” she yelled.

  She spared a glance for Michael, a lump catching in her throat as she took in the pool of blood surrounding him. He lay motionless, his bag discarded, medicines scattered across the broken road. She fought back tears; there would be time later to grieve. Or so she prayed.

  Caelin grabbed Enala and they retreated down the burnt path. Eric stepped up beside Inken, lightning still crackling in his hands. The sight raised hackles on her neck – she doubted she’d ever become used to the sight. But just now Eric’s magic offered their only chance of holding their own. They had learned in Malevolent Cove just how ineffective mortal weapons were against this foe.

  Stones cracked as the demon stepped from the shadows, arms raised. Before they could react, the ground shook, throwing them from their feet. A crack split the earth, racing towards them, and Inken reached desperately for Eric’s hand. But the fissure tore between them, ripping them apart, and she found only empty air.

  Inken struggled to her feet, gripping her bow tight as the ground continued to shift. Across the chasm now separating them, she watched Eric fighting for his life, the deadly vines all around. Lightning flashed, but it no longer seemed so effective. The vines wrapped about his torso, thorns tearing into flesh.

  Then there was no more time to think about Eric. The demon stood before her, sword raised, and it was all she could do throw herself backwards. The razor edged blade swept past her eyes, slicing through a stray wisp of hair. She already knew her sword was useless against this foe. She could only hope to it distracted long enough for the others to get free.

  “Why do you resist? You cannot hope to defeat me. Do you really think you can save her, that I would allow her to escape?” the demon waved a hand.

  Inken risked a glance back. Lead settled in the pit of her stomach. The forest had already claimed her comrades, trapping their arms and legs in the thorny thicket. Blood ran down the dark tendrils, the monstrous tree trunks standing in wait, mouths stretched wide.

  Tears brimmed in Inken’s eyes as her strength evaporated. She sank to her knees and stared up at the demon, grief blurring her vision.

  “Good girl. You know when you are finished. I will enjoy watching the girl die, after what her dragon did to me,” the demon growled the last words.

  “Pity the beast did not finish the job,” a voice boomed from overhead.

  Inken’s heart surged as Jurrien plummeted from the sky, energy crackling around him. Blue fire fell with him, it’s almost tender touch burning through the black forest. Her companions regained their freedom as the vines holding them crumbled to nothing. They stood in a daze, staring at the Storm God, blood running from their limbs.

  “You did not think you could fool me forever, did you Thomas?” the God growled, his voice crackling with power.

  The demon king laughed. “Ah Jurrien, I was wondering when you would arrive. Late as usual, my old friend. Although I admit, I had been hoping to take care of our companions here be
fore you arrived. I’m sure they will wait though.”

  “No, this ends here, Thomas. I should have guessed the magic had taken you long ago. I should have hunted you down then, put you out of your misery. But no longer,” Jurrien pointed a finger. “Your suffering ends today, old friend.”

  The demon drew the second Soul Blade and waved it at Jurrien. “This one’s for you, old man. Archon forged them himself,” he held up the first blade, staring into its sickly green glow. “He was very pleased to see how well they worked. Your sister put up quite the fight.”

  Jurrien’s face darkened. Inken backed away as the air crackled. A dull pain shot through her skull and her ears popped as the air pressure plummeted. Storm clouds took shape and began to circle Jurrien. Lightning lit the black clouds and wind howled through the trees. Inken braced herself against the tiny hurricane as the very earth shook with its power.

  In the eye of the storm, Jurrien released his pent up fury, screaming as he threw out his hands. A ball of lightning gathered between them. Jurrien drew back an arm, and hurled it at his foe.

  The demon was already moving, retreating into what shelter remained of its dark forest. But Jurrien would not be deterred. He wrenched his hands apart and the ball exploded outwards. A rain of lightning tore apart the forest, burning the trees to dust. The dark powers of the earth retreated before the Storm God’s rage.

  Jurrien stalked into the smoking remains, the hurricane still swirling about him. His ice blue eyes searched the ruin, seeking the demon.

  But his foe was not defeated yet. The earth beneath Jurrien tore open, revealing a vast gulf stretching down to a red glow far below. The God dropped several feet before the wind caught him and propelled him upwards.

  Inken stumbled as the earth shook. With a roar the pit snapped closed, entombing Jurrien in solid rock.

  Panic gripped Inken. Then a blue light pierced the broken cobbles, streaming up into the night. A bright flash forced her to look away. A groan came from the ground, then a boom. When she turned back a crater marked the street, and Jurrien now hovered several feet above the ground. A purple bruise marked his face, but he scowled down at the demon, undeterred.