Soul of Swords (Book 7) (42 page)

For a wild, mad moment, Molly thought Mazael would strike the Old Demon down, that he would drive Lion right through her grandfather’s rotting black heart. 

But the Old Demon, too, was Demonsouled. 

He held the Glamdaigyr one-handed, but wielded the massive black greatsword as quickly as if it were a quill pen. Lion’s blade clanged off the Glamdaigyr, both swords shrieking as the magic within them struggled. Mazael struck again and again, and the Old Demon blocked the strikes with ease, the Glamdaigyr blurring back and forth. 

“Shall we fight with swords?” said the Old Demon, laughing. “I was going to blast the flesh from your bones, but I suppose it would amuse me to…”

Molly glanced at Romaria, who nodded, and they struck in one motion. 

Romaria ran towards the Old Demon, her bastard sword blurring for his head. The Old Demon’s red-glazed eyes darted towards her, and Molly seized the opening. She could not walk through the shadows, not so close to the Glamdaigyr’s malevolent aura, but she still had Demonsouled strength and power. Her sword and dagger plunged for the Old Demon’s chest, all her hate and fury driving the weapons. 

Yet the Old Demon dodged the blows in a black blur, moving faster than Molly had ever seen anyone move. 

And unlike Molly, the Glamdaigyr did not block his ability to walk through the shadows.

The Old Demon blurred into darkness and reappeared a dozen yards away, amidst a knot of struggling Demonsouled. Molly wheeled to face him, as did Mazael and Romaria, but the Old Demon lifted his hand. 

“Dear granddaughter,” he said, his smile revealing jagged fangs, “go and die.”

He gestured, crimson flame pulsing around his hand, and invisible force hammered into Molly. She had been hit by blasts of psychokinetic force before…but never by a wizard of such strength.

It felt as if a Tervingi war mammoth had fallen upon her.

The blast flung her across the Chamber of Blood and slammed her into the wall fifty yards away. 

Molly slumped, broken bones jutting from her arms and legs, blood pooling around her.

###

Ragnachar son of no one strode through the chaos, cutting down Demonsouled left and right.

He had once fought to contain the darkness inside him, listening to his mother as she counseled patience and control. But in the end, the struggle had been too much. In exhaustion and despair he had rejected her and embraced the dark fire in his blood, and listened to the counsels of the Urdmoloch. He would kill and kill until there was no one left to kill.

Perhaps then the terrible hunger in his blood would at last be sated.

Ragnachar had hoped to kill the world…but instead Mazael Cravenlock had cut him down outside the gates of Sword Town. 

But now Ragnachar was dead, and there was no more exhaustion, only pain. No more weariness, only rage and bloodlust. No more doubt, only the will of the Urdmoloch filling him with relentless purpose. 

And that purpose was to kill. 

He destroyed another of the rebel Demonsouled, the red flame flying back into the pulsing column, and spotted Riothamus son of Rigotharic.

The Guardian stood a short distance from where Mazael and Romaria battled the Urdmoloch, blue fire straining against green. Riothamus cast spell after spell, destroying the Demonsouled that tried to attack him and hurling bolts of golden fire at the Urdmoloch. Ragnachar felt a smile spread over his face. 

Oh, but he would enjoy stepping behind Riothamus and burying his sword in the Guardian’s back…

Then he saw Molly Cravenlock slumped against the wall, blood pooling beneath her.

Riothamus’s beloved. 

And killing her would inflict far more pain on the Guardian.

Ragnachar turned to face her, his greatsword coming up. 

###

Mazael let the Demonsouled rage fill him, making him stronger and faster, letting it drive his limbs with fury and might.

For if there was ever a foe that deserved his rage, his hatred, it was the Old Demon. 

Yet for all his speed, for all his strength, he could not land a blow. The Old Demon was too fast, the Glamdaigyr a blur of darkness and green light around him. The sheer force of his blows knocked Mazael back, and time and time again Mazael almost lost his balance and fell. If he ever did, he knew the Old Demon would kill him in a heartbeat.

Or one of the other Demonsouled in the mad melee.

His only respite came from the blasts of golden fire Riothamus unleashed. Every hit rocked the Old Demon. They gave Mazael a chance to recover his balance and strike back…but the Old Demon always recovered, regaining his balance to block the blows and launch attacks of his own.

So far, at least, Riothamus had kept the Old Demon from casting another spell. If the Old Demon worked a spell of sufficient power, he could kill Mazael and Romaria both in a heartbeat.

As he might have already killed Molly.

Mazael fought on.

###

Riothamus threw his full power into the next spell, the might of the Guardian’s staff augmenting his magic. 

And still it was not enough. 

The golden fire slammed into the Old Demon, staggering the ancient creature, but left no lasting injury. Riothamus had seen how quickly Mazael and Molly healed injuries, but the Urdmoloch’s powers of regeneration were far stronger. Worse, layer upon layer of ancient wards armored the Old Demon, blunting most of the force of Riothamus’s spells. 

Unless Mazael drove Lion through the Old Demon’s heart, they would lose this fight.

As Riothamus fought, he loosed the Sight, seeking for Molly. The Urdmoloch’s spell had thrown her across the Chamber of Blood, and he feared that the Old Demon had killed her. Or had left her crippled, making her easy prey for the maddened spirits of the Demonsouled that raged against each other, their screams and howls filling Riothamus’s ears. The terrible dark power of Cythraul Urdvul blazed before his Sight, the magic of the Demonsouled in the crimson column of flame shining like a dark sun.

He spotted Molly slumped against the far wall, her aura flickering and wounded. She was still alive, but badly hurt. He had to go to her, had to aid her…but he could not leave Mazael to face the Urdmoloch alone. 

For an instant agonized indecision gripped his heart.

Then his Sight saw a peculiar rippling further along the curve of the wall.

A warding spell, perhaps? Or a spell of concealment?

###

Skalatan saw the Guardian’s blue eyes widen.

He had been spotted. 

No matter. Even when measured against the power of the Old Demon, the Guardian was a dangerous foe. Killing him was just as good a place to start as any.

His carrier leveled the drachweisyr as he called on the enslaved dragon’s power.

###

Molly groaned, agony rolling through her, and waited for her Demonsouled blood to heal her. 

She hoped it could. She had taken terrible wounds, and her blood might not have the strength to heal her.

But even as the thought crossed her mind, she looked down and saw the shattered bones pull themselves together, the torn flesh sealing itself shut. Her legs and chest burned with pain as the bones forced themselves back into position, but the agony receded with every heartbeat.

An instant later she was whole again, and she climbed back to her feet, puzzled. 

Her Demonsouled blood was stronger here, just as Morebeth had said. Strong enough to heal near-fatal wounds in a matter of moments.

And strong enough, perhaps, to allow her to travel through the shadows, even with the Glamdaigyr’s constraining aura?

Then a snarling cone of yellow-orange fire erupted from the wall, rolling across the floor and devouring the Demonsouled in its path.

Molly saw Riothamus disappear beneath the flames.

###

Riothamus felt the power build up, his Sight detecting the harsh glimmer of gathering magic.

He cast his own spell as a river of fire erupted from the black wall, rolling towards him in a massive wave. Riothamus slammed the staff of the Guardian against the floor, and a curtain of white mist rose up before him, hardening into a wall of glistening ice. The flames struck the conjured ice, and both fire and ice devoured each other in a plume of steam, the hiss loud enough to briefly down out the roar of battle. 

“Skalatan,” whispered Riothamus as the hot wind whipped around him. 

It was a clever plan. The San-keth archpriest need only lurk at the fringes of the battle, letting his foes destroy each other and attacking those who faltered. And once the battle was over, Skalatan could destroy the victor and claim the Demonsouled power for himself. 

Another blast of flame erupted from the wall, and Riothamus cast a spell.

###

For a moment Mazael froze, as did the Old Demon and Romaria.

A blast of flame lanced across the Chamber of Blood and slammed into a wall of ice, a roaring plume of steam rising overhead. Hot winds howled through the chamber, tugging at the Old Demon’s robes, followed by another blast of flame, and then another.

The Old Demon laughed.

“That miserable old serpent,” he said. “He thinks to destroy me with that toy? How amusing! After I finish with you, I’m going to enjoy settling with him at last.”

The Glamdaigyr whirled for Mazael, and he ducked under the blurring strike. Romaria lunged, her bastard sword glimmering with Lion’s flames, and the Old Demon danced aside. Mazael saw an opening and stabbed with Lion, reaching for his father’s heart.

The Old Demon winked, and disappeared in a swirl of darkness. 

He reappeared twenty yards away in the midst of a struggling group of Demonsouled and began to cast a spell, a column of darkness rising around him.

###

The steam cleared, blown away by the hot wind now roaring through the chamber, and Molly saw Riothamus standing untouched, the bronze-colored staff shining in his right hand. He began to cast a spell…

But before he could finish, more fire erupted from the wall.

Molly cursed. What was causing that flame? A Demonsouled wizard? Some spell conjured by the Old Demon? Or…

No. Skalatan. 

She had heard the stories about the archpriest’s dragon, and skulking in the shadows and launching surprise attacks was exactly the sort of tactic a San-keth cleric would employ. The serpent had to be using a cloaking or masking spell. 

And if Molly pinpointed his location, she could shove a foot of steel down Skalatan’s gullet.

She turned, scanning the wall, watching for the source of the next blast of flame.

“Sister!”

The voice sent a jolt of horrified recognition through her.

She turned just as Corvad charged, his gray eyes alight with fury and glee, the sword of the Destroyer burning in his fist. 

###

Riothamus blocked another blast of dragon fire, his head ringing with the effort.

How was Skalatan even here? Entering Cythraul Urdvul required the blood of the Demonsouled, blood that Skalatan did not possess. Had he…

“Of course,” whispered Riothamus.

The skull. 

Corvad’s skull, the skull that had allowed Malaric to gain the powers of the Demonsouled. Skalatan had allied with Malaric for the express purpose of gaining control of that skull. Riothamus had wondered why Skalatan bothered with the renegade. Malaric had been an unreliable and treacherous ally at best, and surely the skull’s powers were no match for the archpriest’s own magic.

Unless Skalatan needed the skull to enter Cythraul Urdvul. 

Which meant that if Riothamus could destroy the skull, it would force Skalatan out of Cythraul Urdvul and back into the material world.

Another wave of flame, larger and hotter than before, roared across the floor.

But the plan would only work if Riothamus survived long enough to find the skull. 

###

Mazael sprinted forward, cutting down the Demonsouled in his way. 

He wasn’t going to make it in time.

The Old Demon pointed his left hand, shadow and blood-colored fire whirling around his fingers, smiling as he summoned killing magic.

A dark blur slammed into the Old Demon and knocked him sideways just as the spell flared to life. A lance of crimson fire burst from the Old Demon’s hand and ripped through the battle, missing Mazael by mere inches. The Demonsouled it touched burst into crimson fire, the flames absorbed back into the great pillar.

Romaria wore the form of the great black wolf, her muscled bulk driving the Old Demon to the floor, her jaws clamped around his throat. Mazael ran faster, fear driving him forward. 

The Old Demon raised his left hand, a crimson sigil shining on his palm. Blood-colored fire slammed into Romaria and sent her spinning head over tail. 

She vanished into the chaos of the battle, leaving behind the stench of burned fur and flesh.

Mazael roared and raced for the Old Demon.

His father disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

Mazael spun just as the Old Demon reappeared behind him, the Glamdaigyr driving for his heart.

###

“For the love of the gods!” said Molly. “Does no one stay dead?”

Corvad thrust at her, and she dodged around his blows, sword and dagger working. In life he had been stronger and faster than her. Here, in the birthplace of the Demonsouled, Molly’s enhanced speed and strength matched his own. The burning sword of the Destroyer plunged at her face. She twisted and her sword caught Corvad across the hip, drawing blood, but her brother hardly seemed to notice.

“You will serve our grandfather,” said Corvad, “as you should have served him in life. He will be the new god, sister, and you shall fall on your knees…”

“Oh, shut up, Corvad,” said Molly, thrusting and stabbing. Her attack forced Corvad to retreat, and Molly landed two minor hints. Yet she didn’t have time to fight her dead brother. Riothamus needed her help. Mazael needed her help.

“Fall and die!”

A hulking figure in black armor ran at her, a crimson greatsword ablaze in his armored fists. Molly recognized that black armor, that hard face in the dragon-shaped helm.