Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2)

by Aaron Hodges

  Enala growled, anger stirring as she stepped towards the beast. It burned through her body, searing away her fears. The creature stilled, staring at her, the hunger in its eyes turning to doubt. She felt the power rising within her and made no attempt to control it. She needed it now and did not care if it wreaked havoc in this phantom realm.

  The power throbbed in her chest, burning as it spread through her skin.

  Enala closed her eyes and willed the fire forth.

  Heat encircled her arms, burning into her wrists. For a moment, she thought the flame magic had taken light but when she looked her hands were empty. Instead the bracelets shone bright on her arms, their heat scorching her skin. Pain lanced from her wrists, bringing tears to her eyes. She gasped, concentration snapping, and the power sank back into the depths of her subconscious.

  She looked up in panic and knew the Raptor could sense the change. Its jaws widened in a reptilian grin. It started forward again, unstoppable.

  Enala wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to flee. She raced down a random path, mind racing as she searched for a new plan.

  What happened to my magic?

  But there was no time to dwell on that question. From behind came the monster’s roar as it leapt after her. She could not avoid it for long, and who knew which path she now tread. Jonathan had warned her to stay on the true one – though his word suddenly held little value to her.

  Ahead a shadow loomed and Jonathan’s words came back to her.

  To touch them is death!

  An idea flashed through her thoughts and she ran on. The shadow wall loomed, a ghostly barrier blocking the way. Half her mind urged her to spring through, to test the truth of Jonathan’s warning. But there would be no second chances here and out of options, she put her faith in the cowardly king.

  At the last moment, Enala spun to face the creature. It bounded towards her, claws outstretched, mouth wide to tear her head from her shoulders. It roared – and sprang.

  Enala only had a split second to react. She dove for the ground, as she had earlier. The beast’s momentum carried it past once more, straight for the shadow wall blocking the path. But this time the Raptor was ready. Its claws lashed out, biting deep into the flesh of her arm. She screamed as the beast’s weight caught her, almost tearing her arm from its socket.

  Then the beast struck the shadow. The wall disintegrated at the Raptor’s touch, collapsing down to envelop the creature in darkness. It thrashed, jaws gaping as the shadow engulfed its head. The red eyes rolled back in its skull and its legs kicked helplessly.

  As the Raptor weakened, Enala struggled to free herself from its claws. Pain tore into her, unbearable, but the shadow was crawling over the beast towards her. She guessed if it reached her, she would soon join the Raptor in its suffocating death. Claw grated on bone as Enala fought to break away.

  Steel flashed as a blade descended towards her. Enala flinched as it struck the creature’s arm: once, twice, three times. On the final blow the limb snapped and Enala tore herself free.

  She stumbled backwards, looking around for her saviour. She found Jonathan standing over her, his brow wet with sweat and his breath coming in heavy gasps. His eyes still shivered with panic, but somehow he had summoned the courage to return.

  Enala could not decide whether to embrace the king, or punch him in the face.

  Then the maze collapsed around them, and there was no time for either.

  Twenty One

  An involuntary tremor ran through Eric as the demon laughed at them. Panic shook his hold on his magic and they dropped half a foot. Laurel shrieked and gripped his hand tighter. Eric grimaced and steadied the winds.

  “Ah, my old benefactor, however did you come to be here?” the demon’s voice crackled with power.

  Eric did not bother to reply. He reached out to the swirling winds, then turned and fled for the city. His racing heart thrust him onwards – he knew this was not a fight they could win. Their only hope was to find shelter in the buildings below. He tightened his hold on Laurel’s arm, dragging her with him.

  Then the winds gave an abrupt crack, and disappeared as though sucked into a vacuum of nothingness. Eric found himself falling, tumbling towards the city below. The rooftops raced up, the spires of a nearby church beckoning.

  Eric reached desperately for his magic, fighting back fear as his stomach climbed into his chest. He reached for the wind, cords of magic seeking any parcel of air. But the sky was empty – there was nothing, nothing, noth – there!

  The wind howled as it caught them, halting their freefall. Looking down Eric hesitated, then drove them towards the pavement, eager to regain solid earth. The demon now ruled the sky. Its laughter came from behind, its magic hot on their heels.

  Eric sucked in a breath of relief as they touched down, but there was no time to waste. Laurel tugged at his arm, dragging him down the street. She could not know what they faced, but nor was she a fool. There was no mistaking the power they faced.

  Before they could take five steps a roar came from behind them. Eric felt his ears pop with the release of energy. The earth in front of them split open, the bricked road tumbled into the chasm. Houses on either side of the road tore in two with a violent crack. Screams came from nearby citizens as the earth shook them from their feet.

  The demon’s cackle rose above the chaos. Eric spun in time to see it touch down, the black cloak billowing in the breeze. It held a sword in either hand, one dark green, the other blue. Energy rippled in the depths of those blades, a dark power which sent a chill to his very soul.

  “Stick around a while, won’t you,” the demon smirked.

  Summoning his courage, Eric took a step towards it. “Stay back,” he growled.

  The demon ignored him, striding forward, dark eyes locked on them. “I don’t believe I will, mortal. Now, where is the girl? Where is the Sword?”

  Eric answered with lightning.

  The air crackled as he unleashed the bolt. Then a surge of energy struck Eric, sending him reeling back, and the lightning stopped dead a few feet from the demon. It hung there, frozen in place, and yet still sizzling with power. The demon laughed and waved a hand.

  The blue fire reversed direction, slamming into Eric’s chest and flinging him backwards. Air exploded from his lungs as he struck the ground and went tumbling across the ground. The chasm loomed up before him. He grasped for purchase, his body plunging over the edge.

  Laurel’s hand found his, halting his fall. Grunting, she managed to pull him back from the brink. Together they scrambled clear. He stood, accepting a shoulder from Laurel. They looked across at the demon, helpless fear taking hold. Eric clenched his teeth against the pain rippling through his body.

  “Where is the girl? Where is the Sword?” the demon ground out.

  It stalked towards them, cracks radiating from where its boots struck the road. The air shimmered, rings of heat seeping from the Soul Blades. The earth shook again, driving them to their knees.

  Vines erupted from the ground around them. Laurel lashed out with her blade, struggling to hold them back, but to no avail. In seconds they held her immobile. Eric did not even have time to draw Alastair’s sword before he found himself trapped in their iron grasp. Thorns stabbed deep into his skin and his chest ached as they began to squeeze.

  “Where?”

  Air exploded between Eric’s teeth as the breath was crushed from him. Hot blood ran from his wrists and he shuddered as the thorns scraped against bone. He opened his mouth to scream, but his lungs were already empty.

  “Please,” he croaked.

  The demon stood just two feet away now. It sheathed the blue sword and reached out with a pale hand. Cold fingers grasped Eric’s chin and tilted back his face, forcing him to look into the dark depths of what had once been Thomas’ eyes. The pressure on his chest eased a little. He sucked in a breath of precious oxygen.

  “Well?” the demon hissed.

  “You’re too late,” he rasped.
“Enala has the Sword, she’s gone.”

  The demon’s fingers dug into his cheeks. “Liar.”

  Eric screamed as its fingernails tore his skin. The vines began to move, dragging their thorny tips through his flesh. He shrieked again as they cut long gashes down his body. Blood dripped from his chest, soaking into the earth beneath him. Agony swept through him in waves. He could almost feel his mind breaking before the onslaught.

  The demon drew back its hand. Blood stained its fingertips. “Ah, how I would love to feel Antonia’s pain, to see her magic used against one of hers. She has been quiet for so long now, subdued by the blades magic. But perhaps she can still taste your blood,” it ran one bloody finger down the green Soul Blade.

  Light erupted from the sword at the demon’s touch. Eric closed his eyes, but even so a bright track blazed across his vision. The light burned through his eyelids, but trapped in the vines he could not turn away. The demon cursed and stumbled back, shaking the sword as though it had scorched him. But its fist remained locked around the pommel, the demon either unable or unwilling to release it.

  As the light blazed stronger, a voice whispered in Eric’s mind.

  Eric, can you hear me?

  Eric’s spirit soared at Antonia’s voice. “Yes!”

  Then listen, I cannot hold him long. I have been saving my strength for this moment, but even so, it is not much. I cannot escape.

  Eric’s hope shrivelled away, but he remained silent.

  There is much you don’t know, much Alastair and I were meant to tell you before things went so wrong. Secrets we kept for the safety of all, to ensure Archon did not discover the truth. Enala is not the only ancestor of Thomas’ sister, Aria. Watch, and you shall see.

  Eric’s vision faded to black, before a new image took shape in his mind’s eye. A cross-roads materialised, the streets obscured by the darkness of night. Buildings ringed the intersection. A single lantern burned on the corner, illuminating a pale circle of light. A man stood beneath the lantern, his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat. He turned to look down the street, waiting.

  A couple appeared from the shadows, their breath steaming in the cold. The woman held a bundle of cloth in her arms, clutching it close to her chest. The man wore a sword at his side and strode with the confidence of a fighter. Their faces were familiar, calling to Eric from the depths of his memory.

  With a chill, he realised they were Enala’s parents.

  The man at the cross-roads turned to watch the approaching couple. They met beneath the glow of the lamp, faces huddled close to hide the whispered words.

  Eric heard them anyway.

  “Thank you for coming,” Enala’s father began. “You don’t know how hard this is for us.”

  “Then why are you doing it? Why choose me?” the other man’s voice was familiar too.

  Eric struggled to place it as the woman replied. “We do this because we must. Our custom demands it,” she smiled, her voice filled with warmth. “And we chose you, Allan, because we know you. You and your wife. You are the ones we want.”

  No, no, no, the words raced through Eric’s mind as the scene faded. The last thing he glimpsed was of Enala’s mother passing the bundle to the man called Allan. It cannot be true!

  Allan was his father’s name.

  Yes, Eric, it is the truth. You are Enala’s twin brother, you too have the royal blood, Antonia’s voice returned, but it was fainter now, diminished.

  “How?” Eric’s mind reeled, unable to comprehend the vision. “Why?”

  Aria and her children were hunted from the moment Alastair took them into hiding. Archon was desperate to see them dead, and only the most desperate of measures could keep the line safe. Over generations, it became tradition for your ancestors to separate their children at birth, to adopt one into a worthy family. You were such a child.

  Eric shook. “No, no I knew my parents. This cannot be possible.”

  The light from the Soul Blade shivered. You saw the truth, Eric. Both Enala and yourself have the blood to wield the Sword, she paused. But you must be strong to use it. You must have conquered your own power if you are to stand a chance of wielding the Sword.

  “Enala has only just begun to learn,” Eric whispered.

  Then it must be you, Eric, though you too are still learning. You must not die here.

  Eric mind still whirled, still fought against Antonia’s words. “How can this be? Did Alastair know this?”

  I never told him, though he may have guessed when I sent him to you.

  Eric choked back tears. He struggled to concentrate, though pain still rippled from where the vines were embedded in his flesh. “None of this matters, Antonia. It’s too powerful, I cannot escape.”

  Do not worry about that. But we are out of time; the demon will soon take control of my powers again. I give you my blessing, Eric. Good luck.

  With her last words, warmth flooded into Eric’s body. As it spread the vines drew back, falling to the ground where they withered and died. The warmth spread, encircling his wounds and drawing out the pain. He watched as gashes in his flesh closed over, the skin knitting itself back together.

  As the last of his wounds healed, the warmth vanished.

  Eric looked up to see the demon’s dark eyes watching him. The emerald light of the Soul Blade had returned to a sickly green. Purple veins stood out on the demon’s arms as it gripped the sword hard.

  “What did she tell you, boy?” raged burned in its eyes.

  Eric summoned his magic, bracing himself for another round. What is Antonia playing at? She knows I cannot win this fight.

  “Do not worry yourself about that, demon,” Laurel stepped between them.

  Eric stared at the ex-Baronian, shocked by her interference. She too had been freed, her wounds healed by Antonia’s magic. She looked sideways at him and flashed a smile. She no longer held her sword, but she stood with a strange confidence, defying the demon.

  “She spoke to me too,” a shiver ran through Eric as she faced the demon. “I know what I have to do,” she raised an arm. It flared bright white as she summoned her own power.

  The demon laughed. “You think you have the strength to challenge God magic?” the other Soul Blade scraped from its sheath.

  Laurel shook her head. “No, I do not have the power to challenge your stolen magic. But you cannot wield them without your own dark magic, demon!” she spat.

  The demon froze, the light from the Soul Blades dying away. Its face twisted with hatred. The dark eyes bore into Laurel, its body trembling as it fought to break the spell. The same spell the Magicker had cast over Eric and Enala.

  Laurel stared back, arms outstretched, concentration etched into the lines of her mouth. Light flashed again and her eyes glowed with power.

  Eric stared, frozen with indecision. What had Antonia told Laurel? What had she done?

  Teeth gritted, Laurel turned to him. “What are you waiting for?” she ground out. “I cannot hold it for long. Go!”

  Still Eric hesitated, tears springing to his eyes. There was no denying the truth behind Laurel’s words. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered.

  Laurel gave a sad smile. “That’s between me and Antonia,” her face softened. “Go, Eric. Find Enala, get the Sword, save the world. Go!”

  Eric leapt for the sky.

  *************

  Laurel stared at the demon, arms trembling. She blinked back tears, unable to take her eyes from its hateful glare. Only Antonia’s warmth kept her strong, unwavering before its fury.

  “You cannot hold me, mortal,” the demon grated.

  Laurel bowed her head, tearing her eyes from the deathly face. It was, she knew, the face of her death. She could feel her pool of magic withering; the energy it took to hold the demon was sucking it dry at an alarming rate. She did not have much longer.

  She prayed to the Goddess it would be long enough.

  She had told Eric the Goddess’ words were between herself and
Antonia, but in truth the decision had been a simple one. They could not hope to destroy this demon, not without aid. But bolstered by Antonia’s final gift, she had the strength to hold it, at least for a time. Her Light magic, against the darkness swirling at its core.

  If not for Antonia, Laurel would never have had the strength to hold it back. Even without the Soul Blades, the demon was unbearably strong. Its magic surged against her, fighting to pierce the Light magic smothering it. One seconds lapse, and it would be free.

  But for now it remained trapped in the blanket of Laurel’s magic. Without its dark magic, the demon could not access the power of the Soul Blades, could not even move the body it possessed. It was helpless, for so long as Laurel could hold it.

  Or almost helpless. Antonia had warned her that the Soul Blades had power of their own – power to defend their wielder. If Laurel or Eric attacked the demon directly, their power would be unleashed and the demon freed.

  Antonia had given her the strength to stop the demon, but they still had no way to kill it. Their only hope to stop it was the Sword of Light, but the Sword was far beyond reach. That left only one option. Laurel had to hold the demon, to give Eric the chance to escape.

  There was no other alternative; if she did not hold it, it would kill them all.

  “I can feel you weakening, girl. You’re dying. Release me and I will let you live,” the demon whispered, its voice seductive.

  Laurel looked up and laughed. Darkness radiated from the demon’s soul, the falsehood of its words clear in her mind’s eye. There would be no mercy from this creature, not once its magic was free of her binding.

  Closing her eyes, Laurel took a deep breath to calm her racing heart.

  Standing amidst the ruin, she waited for death.

  Twenty Two

  Inken held the bowstring tight against her cheek, arrow nocked and sighted at the nearest soldier. She glimpsed Caelin taking up position on the other side of Gabriel, sword in hand. Gabriel himself stood motionless, staring down at Katya, his sword still embedded in her back. The councillor lay dead at their feet, her empty eyes staring up at them.