Paladin's Oath

by M. H. Johnson

  "No, you will not touch my prize!" Lessel roared, bolting out of his chair, racing toward the crystal slab where his daughter gasped helpless sobs, fruitlessly struggling to break free, even as her bonds cut cruelly into her flesh.

  With that, Jess gave a roar and sprinted madly to intercept.

  "Stop! An agreement has been reached!" whispered the four shadowy demons in unison, their soft words blowing through the chamber with the force of a winter gale. Lessel instantly froze where he stood as darkest strands of Abyssal power wound about him, locking him in place even as he roared his outrage, muttering dark curses in a futile attempt to break his bonds. Jess contemptuously cleaved through the gathering strands of power seeking to ensnare her, rupturing them even as the casters gasped in sudden pain, their sentient strands of dark energies snapping away from Jess in a sudden violent spasm.

  “An agreement has been made, ancient queen of Dawn,” whispered the one who appeared to lead the shadowy figures. “You will fight one of our number. Should you emerge victorious, we shall leave without hindrance to you, without killing your prey or your prize. Should you fall, your death alone we shall devour sweetly. Your companions will be permitted to depart. The rules of the contest will be only this. It will be by blade and words of power alone. Neither side shall access Abyssal magics.”

  Jess paused even as Lessel screamed his outrage. "How dare you betray our covenant! We swore a pact! I hold the keys to an endless feast of souls, just as you hold the promise of immortality for me! Why would you jeopardize that so cheaply? For fear of a little girl and her talking cat? Pathetic! I thought you demonlords, not lemurlings squirming to be free of your betters!"

  "Silence, mortal fool!" hissed one of the shadowy figures, and Lessel shuddered, face blanching in horror, as if suddenly realizing that he had gone too far.

  "My apologies great and terrible lords of Hell," Lessel murmured. "I am only… confused as to why you would let such a pathetic wastrel as this… child interfere with our dark pact."

  The dread being cloaked in shadows just gazed at Lessel silently, and Jess could sense his contempt for the shaking diabolist held powerless with the least of Abyssal spells. Briefly, Lessel’s oblivion was considered. Even Jess could sense this without a single word being said. With his shuddering gasp, Jess knew Lessel could sense it as well. She could hear the cackles of amusement from the dark counsel, even as they continued to feed upon the sweetest of grapes and the freshest of screaming souls.

  “You are a fool to open your mouth, Lessel, and speak of things of which you know so little. You would do well to more thoroughly study the history of this realm, should you survive this day.” The shadowy form gazed at Jess. “An offer has been made, to resolve our conflict in such a way as to assure the pieces upon this board that both sides favor not be placed in jeopardy. If the creature before us triumphs, she gains her prize and we lose but a single pawn, useful a tool as you are, Lessel. Should she fall, our champion gains in power and status, and you gain in wisdom and humility both; knowing better than to challenge your betters, grateful we continue to deem you useful, and electing to honor our oaths to you, despite your arrogance and folly.”

  Twilight grinned. “Not to mention less worry about your entire enterprise going up in a rather impressive orgy of destruction, no?”

  The shadowy figure bowed its head toward Twilight.

  “It is in consideration of that alone that we tender this offer to your queen, dread Midnight of the Moonlit realm.”

  Vol'quir stepped forward then, wearing glimmering scale armor of darkest night. Jess shivered, haunted with the certain knowledge that she had seen armor such as he wore at least once before, forged of the vilest metal ores within the Abyss, strengthened with the agony of scores of souls pounded into the armor's construction.

  The Fallen angel smiled viciously as he unsheathed his terrible blade, and Jess could hear a high-pitched shrieking howl as the very air was sucked into the longsword, spinning down into the very depths of the Void. His impossibly beautiful features twisted into the darkest parody of anything divine, gazing at Jess with unbridled hunger and wicked glee.

  "Well, paladin? Will you accept the challenge? Dare you try your blade against Nilseeker, dread weapon forged of a thousand screaming souls that taps into the very essence of the Void? This blade was made in honor of you, after all, if you truly are the whelp of my mistress. A prize forged by Lilith herself, before she disappeared. A prize I alone had the skill and drive to obtain!"

  “A toy she left you, her plaything, before she vanished,” hissed a member of the council.

  Vol'quir's feature's paled with humiliated fury, but he kept his gaze fully focused upon Jess, who smiled grimly at the insult.

  Malek shuddered. "Bloody hells, Jess. I know well the potency of the weapon you reforged to serve me. But even I can feel how... vile his blade truly is. Be careful, shieldsister. By all that's holy, be careful.”

  "Wisely said, Hound." Twilight turned to Jess. "Jess? It is a fair offer. Our prey and prize are intact, and these Elders are then out of our hair, being too wise to dare break covenant with us, knowing the power it would give us, if they dared to do so. But if you accept the challenge, do not count on your mithril armor surviving the encounter unscathed. Lilith, for all her flaws, was perhaps the most brilliant and dangerous weaponsmith the Hells have ever known, as well as the most insane, willing to risk her own destruction in her attempts to forge weapons with links to Oblivion itself. Only your sword, forged of the bone and blood of Darkwings, serving as a perfect conduit to the Void itself in your hands, would survive Nilseeker's strikes unscathed."

  “Understood, Twilight. Our swords alone shall guard us, as I have no doubt my blade can pierce his armor to terrible effect as well, no matter how potent he thinks its wards.” Jess's gleeful smile hinted at darkest madness as the battlefrenzy began to consume her once more, even as the Fallen angel's arrogant sneer faded, disconcerted by her utter lack of fear.

  Jess laughed, feeling her muscles tingle with the exhilaration of battle to come. She carefully controlled her breathing, feeling her senses hone to razor sharp focus, time itself seeming to slow down to a crawl.

  “I agree to your terms!” Jess shouted. “With the understanding that even should I fall, Malek and Twilight are free to leave, unharmed!”

  The four dark Elders made of nothing more than shadow nodded as one. “And should you win, all save Vol’quir and your prey Lessel shall part, unmolested, with neither side moving against the other for at least one turn of the seasons.”

  Jess nodded. "I won't go looking for you, if that's what you mean, so long as none of you threaten my realm, in Shadow or dream." She then looked down at the piteously wailing souls shrieking their sorrowful dirges, even as the demonlords continued to nibble away at shattered ribs and exposed organs in excited anticipation of the battle to come. "And you will leave the souls behind. They are children of Dawn, and so belong to me!”

  “So be it,” the shadowy specter hissed. “Let the contest begin!”

  Vol’quir’s silver gaze shimmered with excitement. “Taste my blade, nameless soul!” He laughed madly and charged.

  "Prepare to die, bastard of Hell!" Jess chuckled throatily as the sweet madness roared through her, even as she stood perfectly balanced, awaiting her foe, her brain analyzing every flicker of expression, every shift in her enemy's stance and balance as he crashed into her.

  Blade in Ochs, Vol'quir lashed out with a quick Stechen strike, morphing it into a savage Schielhau blow Jess barely deflected, her attempts to bind his blade and deliver a lightning fast Zwerchhau slash across his shoulders coming to naught, her foe laughing even as he skipped out of range.

  “So you can actually use a sword, excellent! I would so hate for my prey to be too easy to kill. Tell me, mongrel bitch, how sweet is the taste of a half-blood’s soul?” Vol'quir's smile turned savage, even as he lashed out with a vicious series of arcing blows, Jess expertly turning his strike
s aside with lightning fast bladework, sliding back, keeping range as she felt best before judging the perfect moment, then blasting forward with a fierce Mittelhau strike, slamming the strong part of her blade against her opponent’s weak, hearing his terrible blade scream its frustration, unable to so much as nick her mithril sword, resonating as it did in Shadow with the power and fury of the Void itself.

  In that instant, Jess understood. No force upon mundus or darkest Shadow could harm her blade, channeling as it did the very force and fury of the Void itself. At her behest. At her behest alone. And should she will it, should she hunger for it, she could take that next terrible step. How easy it would be to channel the black heart of that Maelstrom into her very soul. - As is your destiny, Jezabelle. Forged to destroy all. Forged to serve me - She could feel it, calling out to her through her terrible sword. The sweet, horrific promises of the Void.

  To become one with it. To embrace its might fully. To stride the multiverse as a dark god, the doom of everything that ever was.

  The End of All Things.

  “Jess! Focus!” A panicked Twilight snapped.

  Jess, feeling time dilate to a screaming degree she could scarcely fathom, sensed her familiar's words almost before he thought them, even as Vol'quir's eyes lit with triumph, slamming his blade into hers, attempting to knock her sword off line, even as he struck the killing blow.

  Jess, connected to something truly horrific, smiled with darkest glee, her laughter the cold gale of Oblivion, coming for Vol'quir's soul.

  Her sword was moved not an inch by his fierce, calculated blow, Vol'quir's tight, arcing temple strike easily offset, her blade retaining its position, perfectly in line with Vol'quir's center, balanced to strike or parry with deadly grace as they faced off against each other.

  Her enemy's eyes widened in alarm as he realized just how fruitless his attempts to displace her sword were, even as she took advantage of his brief flash of uncertainty, sensing his hesitation, lashing out with a quick Zwerchhau strike inside his guard.

  Vol'quir stumbled back with a desperate hiss, her blade parting through his soulforged scale armor with sickening ease, spirits screaming and twisting into the Void as Jess shuddered with the sudden rush of terrible power, silvery blood oozing from the shallow cut.

  “No. You cannot be!” Vol'quir screamed, even as Jess laughed with growing power. Beginning to be seduced by the sweet taste of madness. So many souls. So much sweet, delicious power right here before her. All around her.

  Dark chords of impossible ecstasy hummed and teased for her dread caress.

  “Jess!” Twilight hissed urgently, and Jess blinked, instinctively dodging back, blade in Pflug, and she sensed the sharp snap of her foe’s frustrated lunge to her gut just in time to react, brushing it aside by her quick rising parry, he having naturally attempted to take advantage of her split-second distraction, just as she had his own. Yet his vain attempt to seize the Vor was to her advantage.

  His fierce lunge, almost desperately eager as he was to seize the opportunity of any momentary weakness, had put him the slightest bit off balance.

  Instantly Jess morphed her vom Tag into a vicious Schielhau strike aimed for his throat, her opponent attempting to twist away, slightly more off balance even as she snapped her blade from Ochs to a flashing moulinet ending not with a powerful slash but rather a calculated lunge and slice, aiming for his wrist even as she step-slid out of his line of attack, deliberately trying to blast her blade through his guard.

  With a grunt, he strove to bat her blade away, instinctively fearing a thrust to his gut, gasping when her blade tore into his hand instead, the shear force of her blow knocking his sword out of alignment even as several fingers flew free of his left hand.

  Her opponent screamed his rage and Jess laughed, feeling the terrible potency of his Prince-like power pour into her, deadly vortex that she was, flooding her with a heady, dangerous euphoria like the most tantalizing of vices; poppy infused brandy sipped from a lover's mouth, so sweetly did the rush of stolen souls flood through her.

  Jess’s grin was vicious. She felt the sudden sharp pang of fangs, and was not alarmed at all. They felt perfectly natural. Perfectly right. It would soon be time, after all, to feed.

  “I will kill you!” a desperate Vol’quir screamed, charging at Jess, clutching his blade with only the slightest awkwardness from his wounded hand, attempting to end the battle swiftly and terribly with a savage series of alternating Zornhau and Mittelhau strikes.

  Jess laughed with manic glee, sensing her opponent’s moves before he even made them, her blade teasing his as she off-set strike after strike, taunting him to dare close with her, even as her blade lashed out, scoring shallow cut after shallow cut upon his flesh. It was a credit to his mastery of the True Art that they were not fatal blows, for all his contemptible arrogance.

  Yet in the end his fury betrayed him, her teasing of his blade as she darted back heightening his frustration and his confidence, until he at last he charged in with a blistering offensive, doing all he could to decapitate Jess, his blade lashing low then high with a vicious cleaving strike, in that moment of dark grace his maimed hand hindering him not at all, fearsome offensive finishing with a deadly lunge straight for Jess's heart, even as he charged in, playing his trump card at the last, attempting to break his opponent with a sundering shout, a true word of power, when his blade was but inches from her heart.

  The word for annihilation itself. A vile, terrible curse that few save the greatest of Fallen angels would dare to learn, let alone utter, fearing their own eternal destruction. It was a testament to his power and foolhardiness both that he had mastered such a dread word, no complex webs of power for Jess to easily slice through. Twilight let loose a sharp guttural bark even as Malek howled, fearing the worst.

  And Jess was laughing, feeling the horrible syllables washing over her. Through her. Into her. Tumbling down a well of such horror and darkness as none could fathom, as if consumed by the great and terrible Void itself; Jess but an echo of its hideous power. And in some skittering part of her mind, Jess realized she had never felt so alive as when her foe had tried to strike her down with the ancient word for Oblivion, feeling somehow the stronger for it. As if it did naught but name her, resonating within her, becoming one with its queen.

  And Jess continued to laugh, even as she countered Vol'quir's killing blow, Nilseeker's deadly point but a hair's distance from her pristine shirt of mithril, Jess immediately blasting through his vicious lunge with an Absetzen counter-thrust, off-setting his blade with her exquisitely balanced crossguard, his dread artifact forced high, arcing up between them, even as Jess plunged her blade deep into Vol'quir's chest.

  The collective horde of dark Lords gasped as their champion screamed a terrible wail that echoed beyond the pitch of any human voice, the cry of a mad spirit clasping desperately to a thousand souls, determined with all its fierce power to hold itself intact, despite sudden unspeakable agony. His beautiful face was spattered with the gore he coughed up, even as he stumbled back.

  With a savage roar, Jess tore her blade straight through her foe, the voidal edge of her sword as sharp as the cross section of reality and dream, slicing up from his chest, tearing through his descending limb with sickening ease.

  Vol'quir stiffened in shock as he gasped and gurgled, his sword arm cleaved completely through, falling to the ground in a spatter of blood, his unspeakably powerful artifact slicing deep into the stone tiles point first without a speck of resistance from the buckling floor. Only the coldly gleaming hilt of his blade jutted out of the shuddering stone.

  Beautiful silver eyes gazed into Jess’s fiery orbs with surprise and panic, blinking in disbelief that the grand tale of life he had somehow thought starred him alone had relegated to him a role no greater than that of a bit player, mere fodder for his foe's terrible appetite.

  Jess’s smile was almost tender, her grin revealing terrible fangs even as she lunged forward and bit into his neck, ho
lding him tight and ignoring his fruitless struggles, his desperate blood choked screams, as she drunk deeply of his heady madness and sweet, soul-drenched power.

  Jess felt her head swirling in a dizzy rush of absolute ecstasy, lost in the euphoria of countless forbidden pleasures, so sweet was the terrible torrent of dark energies roaring through her. She felt herself bloom hideously strong in unspeakable directions, gently squeezing her sweet, succulent fruit to her with a tender crooning whisper, the dying prince shuddering in the grips of unspeakable horror, confronting his own bitter end, even as Jess happily sucked him dry.

  14

  The vile chamber was eerily quiet, tormented spirits in the grips of the Fallen temporarily forgotten, Lessel and the entire horde of ancient demons gazing on as Jess, propelled by savage need, ravenously devoured every last soul trapped within the Fallen prince's tormented form.

  "By the Dark King himself! Vol'quir sundered her with a killing word! A weapon he has never revealed, even to us, and she laughed it off!" whispered one of the Fallen lords.

  “By the Void, it is the get of Lilith. It must be!” hissed another in a dialect dark and foul.

  Yet a crooning Jess paid them no mind, knowing they would not dare violate their word or attempt to breach the circle of blood, having eyes and an appetite only for the Fallen angel dying so gloriously within her arms.

  His perfect inhuman beauty faded to that of a withered and rotting shell, old and hoary, eyes milky with cataracts, coughing vilest ichor, hair pale and brittle.

  “Please,” he begged desperately even as his dying breaths were forced out of him, shuddering in the utter extremes of agony as Jess effortlessly crushed his ribs, his organs rupturing under the hideous force of her vice-like grip, so thirsty she was for his power. - Please spare my last dregs. I will serve you, queen of Hell, serve you forever! So much I can teach you. So much I can show you. Please... - His broken and ruptured shell of a body could utter no more than his death gurgle, a death hideously long and drawn out, enduring heights of agony that would instantly kill any mortal. His plea was a silent one made through his agonized gaze alone. A plea that Jess nonetheless understood perfectly.