They were larger than horses. Their black flesh rippled with muscle. They had no fur, instead covered with a smoldering coat of embers. In unison the three arched their backs and roared, and from their bellies streams of fire soared into the air. The lion in the sky roared back, pleased.
“What are they,” Harruq asked, his eyes wide with terror.
“Lions,” Aurelia said, gripping his hand tighter. “Servants of Karak. He’s twisted them, made them…we need the guards, we need Tarlak. Where is everyone?”
The panic in her voice only worsened Harruq’s fear. He could imagine one bearing down upon him, its claws made of molten rock, its fur burning his very flesh as its obsidian teeth closed around his neck…
“Faithless children!” Pelarak screamed, drawing his attention outward, away from his nightmarish vision. All throughout the city, his voice could be heard. “Behold the Lion that comes in the night seeking to reclaim his Kingdom. You have turned from Karak, willingly forgetting all that once made this city proud. Now you cower, fearing his judgment. Will you surrender? Will you accept the truth you have blinded yourselves to? Or will you give in to death, and in its embrace hide from your ignorance?”
The priest lowered his gaze and stared straight at the couple.
“Your brother was always the wisest, Harruq Tun,” he said. “He approaches with an army at his side. Your master marches with him. Will you join them? Will you repent, and turn to the life you once lived? Or will you doom yourself and your loved ones by fighting against him?”
Harruq looked to his wife, and in her eyes he saw the floating corpse of his daughter. The half-orc met the priest’s gaze, and he felt his fear shatter underneath his anger.
“I would rather die than become the soulless murderer my brother would have me be,” he said.
Pelarak nodded, accepting the decision.
“So be it. Karak has given us his servants to prepare the way. It is in their teeth you will die.”
The lions roared, all three leering at him with hungry eyes. Harruq snarled back and smashed his swords together. Aurelia clutched her staff, and a flickering shield of red grew around her. Two of the lions belched fire, the powerful streams ripping through the air, only to part against the elf’s shield.
Aurelia twirled her hair and smirked. “That it?”
Pelarak chuckled.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Aurelia Tun, however briefly. May you die with little pain.”
At his command, the lions charged. They filled the entire street, one leading, the other two side by side behind. The ground shook from their footfalls. The night shimmered under the red embers of their fur. The couple held their ground. When the lions were about to reach them, and the foremost had leapt into the air, Aurelia knelt and pressed her fingers against the ground. A wall of ice grew straight upward, several inches thick. The entire wall groaned from the pressure as the first lion hit it. Hundreds of cracks filled the ice.
“Here,” she said, pressing her hands against Harruq’s chest. Red light surrounded their skin. “That will protect us from their fire.”
She kissed him as he stared at the ice wall, which had begun to crumble.
“And their claws and teeth?” he asked.
“On your own there,” she said as the barrier shattered. She flung boulders of ice from her hands as deadly concentration blanketed her face. Harruq stayed at her side, determined to protect her no matter the cost. The foremost lion snarled as the boulders crashed against its face and legs. A second lion leapt past with frightening speed.
“Come try me,” Harruq yelled, running to one side and batting his swords together. The lion veered toward him, its mouth open in roar. A stream of fire shot between the gaping jaws and enveloped the half-orc. He crossed his arms and braced his legs, but Aurelia’s spell held strong. The fire flickered across his armor and skin without burning. He felt the heat, and sweat poured across his skin, but he was not burned.
It seemed the lion was not surprised by his survival, for it leapt with its paws leading, obsidian claws hungry for blood. Harruq dodged to one side, slashing out with his magical blades, Salvation and Condemnation. The sister swords cut through the molten armor and into black flesh. Dark fluid seeped out, bursting into flame at contact with the crisp cold air. The wounded lion cried out in pain and wrenched its body away from the swords. When it landed further down the street, it spun, its eyes glaring with an intelligence that was terrifying.
As Harruq prepared for another leap, Aurelia used a spell to raise her high into the air. The other two lions belched fire and leapt skyward. Lance after lance of ice batted them back, angling them so their claws passed inches from her dress and their teeth snapped air instead of flesh. Frustrated, the two lions circled underneath, snarling up at her.
“Poor kitties,” the elf said as more ice swirled around her fingers. “You want to come and play?” She fired thick lances of ice, which thudded against the muscular feline bodies. She wasn’t harming them much, but at least the two lions were focused on her instead of Harruq. She threw two more boulders of ice. One missed while the other cracked in two as it collided against the spine of a lion. As its cry of pain ended, she heard a voice.
“Well done,” Pelarak shouted. Dark circles sparkled on his fingertips. “But it is time your foolishness ended.”
Aurelia felt a tingling throughout her body, and then the firm grip of gravity took hold. She hooked her fingers and cast another levitation spell, but the magic would not take. The elf fell, her green dress flapping in the air as the lions waited hungrily below. They were denied their meal. Strong arms gripped her as she passed by the houses, jarring her to one side. Together they rolled along the roof. She came to a rest still inside those arms.
“Having fun without me?” Haern asked as he helped her stand.
“About time you…” She stopped. “Are you alright?”
The assassin was clutching his amulet of the golden mountain as his entire body shook.
“The amulet helps,” he said. “I will not cower before the demons of Karak.”
“You poor dear.” She put her hands on his own. White light flared as she cast the same spell she had cast on her husband. Haern’s shaking subsided.
“Delysia and Tarlak will be here soon,” he said. He grabbed her hand and held it firm. “Thank you,” he said.
The lion in the sky roared once more, and it seemed the entire city shook under its power. The two lions leapt atop the building, the wood and plaster cracking under their weight. Their eyes shimmered as they tensed for a pounce.
“Can you keep the lions at bay?” Haern asked.
“Have so far, haven’t I?”
The one on the right dug its claws, waiting for the slightest movement to react.
“The priests are mine,” the assassin whispered. From a standstill he leapt twenty feet to his right, gently falling to the roof of another building. Both lions charged. One gave chase for Haern, but stopped when Aurelia pelted its side with a bolt of lightning. The force spun it sideways, ruining its jump. The thing tumbled to the street, belching fire all the way down. Aurelia fell as the other lion descended upon her. She had nowhere to go. Its muscular body was all she could see. She closed her eyes, hooked her fingers for one last spell, and prayed.
Haern jumped from roof to roof, his twin sabers held tight in his hands. He and Tarlak had spent many nights pondering what would happen if the priests of Karak revealed themselves to the city. Now, with the event upon them, it seemed all their preparations and strategy were as pointless as could be. The lion dominated the sky. If they did not end the fear that filled the city, Veldaren would be theirs.
He saw the five priests standing around the fountain that ran red with blood. He saw Pelarak, recognizing the leader. The others prayed and knelt while he watched and commanded. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of lightning knock back the lion that had given him chase. He didn’t know if it would resume after him or return for Aurelia. He
prayed Ashhur would watch over her, but he could not go back. Swords ready, he ran, nothing but a blur of gray in the night.
The houses ended, Haern catapulted himself into the air with all the strength in his legs. He dove for the fountain, his sabers leading like the claws of a bird diving for its prey. His cloaks trailed behind him, somehow silent though they thrashed wildly.
He fell amid the farthest two, his arms stretched wide. One saber pierced through the back of a priest’s neck. The one next to him gasped, the curved blade cutting his throat. They died still kneeling in prayer, their faces slumped to the dirt. The one on the right had shifted from his prayers, as if he had heard the commotion. The other continued shrieking out his devotion to Karak.
Haern rammed both his sabers through the lungs of the one on the right. His back arched in pain. He opened his mouth to scream but the assassin had already angled a saber around, cutting deep into his neck. He let out only a gurgle of blood. Loud as he was, the other priest realized the sudden quieting of prayers. He opened his eyes, only to see a brief flicker of light before the tip of a saber pierced through his eye socket.
With a grunt, Haern kicked the dead priest off his sword. Before he could turn, he felt a weight press against his shoulder. Pain spiked through his body. The magical hand of Pelarak was upon him, gripping his body and sending wave after wave of torture. The priest watched the assassin writhe, all the while keeping his right palm stretched flat. Red light swirled around his hand, as well as Haern’s body.
“You murdered my followers,” Pelarak said. “They died quick, and with little pain. I will not grant you that same courtesy.”
The light turned crimson, and Haern’s screams grew louder. The whole time Pelarak smiled.
“Enough!” Delysia shouted.
White fireflies zipped around Pelarak’s body, their light burning his eyes. One by one they crashed against his body, dissolving into luminescent sparks. Their holy energy burned delivered a throbbing stab against his soul. His concentration broke. The red light around his hands faded.
“So the priestess finally shows her face,” Pelarak said as Delysia ran to Haern’s side. He shrugged off the pain and let unholy energy gather at his fingertips.
“Same could be said for you,” she whispered as glanced over Haern’s body. He didn’t appear too wounded, just in shock from the pain. He’d recover, if given the time. Time, though, was something she would have to fight for.
“You are a healer,” Pelarak said as the darkness about him intensified. “Do you think you can withstand the purity of my hatred?”
Ten small projectiles flew toward her, their centers swirling an ugly brown while their outsides glowed black. Delysia put her hands out as if she were resisting a fall and then braced her mind. The projectiles hit, each one filled with an image and accompanying emotion. She saw fields of desecrated bodies. She saw innocents burning in fire. She felt anger, hatred, disgust and contempt. More images, those of mutilated children, starving women, bleeding animals and ruined forests, pushed into her mind. To each one she countered with the image of Aullienna smiling happy in her arms as she held her. All around were her friends. She remembered the joy and happiness, and against it the anger and vile images broke.
“Clever,” Pelarak said as the mental link the projectiles had established broke. “But Karak has long wanted your meddlesome group removed. I have seen what you dare not see.”
Two more orbs of dark memories formed at his fingers. He threw the first, then the second. His smirk was gone. The images he was sending hurt him as well, but against a priestess of Ashhur, they would be devastating.
Delysia prepared her defense. The image came, and it too was of Aullienna, running happily through the forest behind their tower. A pang of dread hit her as she realized what she was being shown. The girl climbed over a log, ducked through brush, and then found a stream. She giggled and smiled before diving into the water. The priestess tried to remember her happy, her laughing in her arms as a child, but all she could see was Aullienna flailing, water filling her tiny lungs and stealing away her life. The emotion coupled with the image was also something she had not expected: terrible, wracking guilt.
“You see the horrible things this world must endure because of the faith you preach,” she heard Pelarak say. “You see the ruination that Ashhur breeds by your rejection of the half-orc’s brother?”
The second projectile hit. She knew this one well, and against her weakened heart she could not shrug it aside. She saw Brug, lying numb and helpless on the ground as Tessanna stood over him with her dagger in hand. As the blade pierced through his eye, she shrieked and begged the image to end. Again she felt horrible guilt, this time coupled with regret. She could not bear it.
Pelarak smiled as the priestess collapsed to her knees, sobbing. Haern lay beside her, his eyes closed. Two of the most powerful defenders of Veldaren, both laid broken by his strength of will.
“Praise be to Karak,” he prayed as he approached with death in his hands.
The flames felt much hotter than before. Harruq grimaced and hoped Aurelia’s spell would hold out. The last thing he wanted to be was a charred meal for an overgrown cat, but he would be the first to admit things never went as hoped.
“Best you got?” he shouted as he ran down the street, the lion hot on his heels with fire shooting from its mouth. Harruq decided not to test his defensive spell anymore than he had to. He rolled underneath the first blast and dodged the second by ducking into an alley. The lion spun its body and dug its claws into the ground. Huge grooves cut into the dirt as it halted its momentum. Harruq clashed his swords together, taking strength from their magic.
“Don’t think you can fit in here,” he said to the lion. “But if you can, I don’t think your claws can match my swords. Want to try it?”
Evidently it did. The lion snarled and lunged. Both shoulders slammed against the side of buildings. Their walls shook, charring black from the heat. Harruq leapt back, but only a little. The lion tried again. Beams broke. Plaster crumbled. Even if the buildings had to fall, it would reach him.
“Persistent bugger,” Harruq muttered. When the lion charged again he lashed out, cutting a deep line across the bridge of its nose. The pain only spurred it further. Fire flooded the alley, and this time the half-orc felt his skin blister. The protection spell was nearly spent.
“Not good,” he said. “Not good, not good, not good.”
He cut at a searching paw, then went on the offensive. Salvation and Condemnation cut and spun. The lion could only bat at the swords, unable to use its greater size to its advantage in the cramped alley. When the paw struck blade, Harruq pressed with all his strength. The creature howled as it lost two claws, nubs of flesh hanging from them. The lion hobbled back, limping on its wounded right paw. Black blood poured across the dirt.
Harruq picked up one of the claws and hurled it at the lion, the mockery angering it further. It bared its teeth and prepared another blast of fire. The half-orc braced his arms, seeing nowhere to go. If he survived he could perhaps kill it before it recovered from the wound. The rush of fire, however, never came.
Three bolts of lightning slammed into its rear, the force knocking the lion to the ground. A whimper escaped its throat, strange and unbecoming. A lance of ice followed it, crashing against its face. The ice tore through its left eye, rendering it blind. The creature turned to run, but now Harruq was leaping out of the alley, his twin swords hungry. He slashed the tendons in its back legs, tumbling the lion to the ground.
Before it could stand, a final bolt of lightning struck from the sky. The giant body convulsed, and a stream of molten black gunk oozed from its open mouth. It moved no more.
“How in the abyss are you not a pile of ash right now?” Tarlak asked as he walked down the alley and slapped the warrior on the shoulder.
“Aurry,” Harruq said. The wizard chuckled.
“Of course. Where is our lovely elf, anyway?”
The ground
shook beneath them, and high in the sky the blood lion roared in exaltation. The two exchanged a single look, then without a word they ran toward the fountain, weapons drawn and magic ready.
As the huge teeth closed on her neck, Aurelia cast a desperate spell. Her body turned translucent, as if it were made of smoke and light. She fell through the roof, her body like a ghost. She landed beside a bed where two children cowered in the arms of their father. Their eyes were wide, and all shook with deep, constant fear.
“What’s going on?” the father asked. Sweat ran down his chin.
“Get under the bed,” she told them. At first they did not move, but then giant claws tore away the wood above their heads, and red light flooded the room as fire poured in. The elf hooked her thumbs and held her hands high, palms outward. A ward against fire materialized before the family, a shimmering concave barrier that darkened from orange to deep red as the fire parted against it. The father grabbed a son in each hand, held them to his chest, and then made a frantic rush for the door.
“No, wait!” Aurelia shouted. More of the roof tore away. The giant feline mass crashed down, claws raking and teeth biting. Directly beneath that mass was the family. The elf cast a spell on pure instinct. She clapped her hands, then opened them. A giant shockwave billowed out in a conic tornado of concentrated sound. It struck the lion as it descended. The creature bellowed in anger as it flew through a wall and out onto the street. As the spell ended, she heard one of the boys crying as if far away. Everything else was drowned out by the ringing of her ears.
“Stay inside,” she said, though she did not hear the words. She ran to the opening in the wall and looked out. The lion was struggling to stand on a broken leg. Another marched in circles around it protectively. From her vantage point she had a clear shot at both. Ice formed and cracked around her hands. She pointed her fingers, and then the ice fractured and flew. The hundred shards grew larger until they were long as arrows and wickedly sharp. The pacing lion saw the attack and leapt before the wounded one, roaring as the ice shards pelted through its thick skin and into the muscle beneath.
The Half-Orcs: Books 1-5 Page 76
