Selyn lunged, driving her blade deep into what she hoped was the demon king’s heart—if he had one, and if it resided in his chest. He twisted away, shrieking now as three blades pierced him, cutting and slashing without visible damage.
There was no blood, no sign of cuts or tears. His scales remained in place, his body whole. He was mist and yet not. Substantial enough to reflect light from his reptilian scales, solid enough for his knife-like talons to leave deep cuts where they met his opponents’ living flesh—and disgusting enough for the stinking saliva from his gaping mouth and yellowed fangs to turn the ground beneath their feet foul and slippery.
Solid, yet not entirely—light showed through his huge body, and the shadows of movement, when Isra or Dawson lunged with a blade, seemed to dance within his frame. He fought them now, turning and swirling, reaching out with his four arms to slash and cut, kicking with his huge, clawed feet. Still, Selyn felt as if he merely toyed with them, as if he tested their skill and laughed at their inability to best him, even with crystal.
Until Ginny joined the fight. Charging in with DarkFire glowing that unbelievable shade of purple, she headed straight for the demon king. His massive head whipped around, and he shrieked. Movement within the great plaza halted as everyone, demon and Lemurian alike, turned in the direction of that unholy noise.
Before Ginny could swing her blade, the creature lost all form, turned into a black tornado of seething mist, and disappeared down a dark tunnel, away from the battle.
Demonkind throughout the entire area screeched and rose into the air, swirling and pulsing in thick, oily masses of mist. Then with an ear-splitting shriek that seemed to come from all directions at once, they coalesced into a single massive spear of darkness and sped after the demon king.
Alton threw an arm around Ginny’s shoulders and kissed her. Dawson drew Selyn into an embrace, and they all stood there, blowing, gasping for breath, staring in the direction the demon king and his minions had gone.
The few aristocrats still cowering in dark corners were the first to head toward Alton, followed by the warriors who’d fought and killed so many of the demons. Artigos the Just stayed toward the back of the plaza with many of his army around him.
Drago, it appeared, had been among those hiding. He leapt to the dais and pointed at Alton. “Arrest him. He is in league with demonkind. Did you see what happened? He allowed that thing to escape. It’s headed straight for the living quarters where our people hide from this terrible invasion. No one will be safe.”
Alton glanced at Ginny, and the anger boiled off of him in waves. She reached for him, but he shrugged her off and marched across the open plaza. When he reached the dais where Drago stood, he took the steps two at a time as if he intended to physically attack the councilman. Ginny was right on Alton’s heels, with Taron, Dawson, and Selyn following close behind.
Alton reached the same level as Drago and towered over the man. “Put a lid on it, Drago. Now.” He turned to the gathering crowd and glared at his people—people who had cowered in fear when demons attacked. Men whose swords had shattered rather than allow cowards to wield them. “Those of you who believe Drago’s lies are fools. Every gods-be-damned one of you. Fools and cowards, all.”
No one spoke, but eyes shifted from Alton to Drago, and the mood grew ugly. Alton dismissed them with a curse and glared at Drago. “A test, Drago. Draw your sword. Show them that the blade is black as sin.”
Drago took a step back as Alton turned once again to the crowd, now watching him intently. “Crystal turns black when the one who wields it has died. The Drago who once inhabited this body died long ago. You see the man, but he’s nothing more than demonkind—possessed for so many years, almost nothing but the demon survives.”
Drago took another step back. Then he seemed to catch himself. “Lies, Alton. Nothing but lies!”
“I think not.” Alton glanced at Ginny and then focused once more on the Lemurians watching this drama play out in front of them. “Let DarkFire prove the truth of my words. My mate’s blade is capable of forcing demonkind from even the darkest heart. Dawson? Taron? Hold Drago so that Ginny can show these good people what the councilman really is.”
Before Drago could flee, Dawson made eye contact with Taron, and the two men acted as one. They grabbed for Drago and caught his arms. He struggled, fighting against their control, but the two of them held him so tightly restrained he couldn’t break free.
Ginny stepped up and drew her blade. Drago’s eyes went wide, but she didn’t hesitate. Instead, she touched the tip of her blade to his chest, just over his heart. The dark crystal glowed, just as it had in this same plaza mere days ago when the people had witnessed DarkFire’s power for the first time.
Drago screamed, but it was a banshee cry, not the sound of a man. His body jerked in Taron and Dawson’s grasp … and then a thick, oily mass began to seep out of him.
There were gasps and cries throughout the vast plaza as those in the front pushed back, away from the dais, and the ones in back surged forward for a better view. Selyn looked out over the crowd and realized that people were coming in from the various passages, though not from the direction the demon king had taken.
She wondered where he’d gone, if there were people yet in danger. Now, though, both male and female Lemurians filled the great plaza as Ginny forced more and more darkness from Drago.
He seemed to shrink, like a child’s toy balloon deflating. At first he struggled, but as more and more of the demon was drawn forth, his struggles lessened. Finally, he hung limp and diminished in Dawson and Taron’s grasp, but a thick, oily substance floated in the air just above his head.
Ginny thrust at the mass with DarkFire, but the wraith shot out of reach, just ahead of her blade. Someone in the crowd screamed. Ginny cursed and lunged again, but the mist spun in an ever tightening circle and then shot down the passage, following the direction the demon king had gone.
“Shit.” Ginny stared at her sword and shook her head. “I didn’t expect it to move so quickly. How’s Drago?”
Dawson grabbed a fistful of Drago’s hair and raised the man’s head, but he was limp and barely breathing. Alton glanced at the crowd. “Can we get a healer up here? It appears the demon’s force may have been all that kept him alive.”
“You were right. That explains the black sword.” Taron adjusted his grip on Drago’s arm.
An older man moved through those standing closest to the dais, climbed the stairs, and went straight to Drago. At the same time, there was a commotion toward the back side of the plaza, a shout and angry cursing.
Roland and Birk moved toward the dais. Roland had a tight grip on one man, while Birk grasped the arms of two more. A third Lemurian guard came from another part of the crowd, marching yet another man ahead of him.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Alton pointed to the guards and their prisoners. “These members of the Council of Nine have ruled Lemuria since the great move from our dying continent. None of us knew, at the time, that they had been possessed by demonkind, their every thought controlled, their will that of a Lemurian no longer.”
He folded his arms across his chest and gazed out over the plaza that was now filled with Lemuria’s citizens. “You will hear the full story as soon as we can take the time to explain it all to you, but I can tell this to you now—we will remove the influence of demonkind from our leaders and from any of our citizens who have been infected with this scourge. My father is being treated even now. He’s with a healer in Earth’s dimension.”
At the mention of Earth, a mumbling rose among the people. Alton raised his hand. “Do not fear that which you do not understand.” He pointed to Ginny and Dawson. “Without these humans—humans who now carry crystal—demonkind would rule our world. Your lives would be forfeit. I charge you to treat them with honor.”
Selyn glanced at the council members held captive before the dais. Each of them had a crystal sword carefully sheathed, yet even from here she could tell the blades were black. A chill crossed over her spine. The demon king was still free and demonkind still wandered the halls of Lemuria. This battle was far from won.
Ginny stepped down from the dais and led the guards and their captives to a point out of view of the crowd where she could safely remove the demons, but a familiar voice drew Selyn’s attention once again.
“Selyn! I really have to speak to the chancellor.”
“Isra?” She leaned down and held out her hand. “Come. Let me help you. It’s too crowded for you to get to the stairs.”
Isra’s hand tightened around hers. As Selyn tugged, Isra jumped and landed lightly beside her. “I have news he must hear,” she whispered. Then Isra looked over her shoulder at the huge crowd of free folk. More people than she and Selyn had ever seen in their lives.
For a moment, Selyn wondered if she had the right to interfere with the chancellor’s speech. Then she sensed the power of StarFire and knew she had every right. She stepped up and tapped Alton’s shoulder. “Isra says she has important news for the chancellor.”
He flashed her a cheeky grin. “That would still be me.” And, without a moment’s hesitation, he turned his full attention on the two Forgotten Ones.
Isra glanced quickly at Selyn and then swallowed with an audible gulp. “Sir,” she said. Then she took a deep breath, and the words spilled out. “I freely admit I came to this level to do harm, but I was captured by guards possessed by demonkind. They took me through a magical wall of molten gold and thence along a passage that led to a chamber filled with portals. That man”—she pointed at Drago—“was using his black sword to open a portal. It’s a massive doorway that swirls in colors of darkest red and stinks of demonic presence.”
Alton’s hand snapped up to stop her speech. “Taron,” he said. “Dawson, you need to listen to this.” He turned back to Isra. “I’m sorry. I want my men to hear your message.”
With Dawson and Taron on either side of the chancellor, Isra continued. “Drago completed the portal, and demons began pouring through. Thousands of them, filling the chamber with a solid wall of stinking mist. Then that large one crawled through the portal.” She stopped and took another deep breath.
Selyn reached for Isra’s hand and squeezed it tight. Never in her wildest dreams had Selyn imagined feeling pride in Isra, her most unfriendly sister, but now Selyn stood tall and proud beside one who had always wished her harm.
Isra’s fingers tightened in Selyn’s. “When the demon king finally crawled out of the portal, he divided the demons into three separate groups. One group went down a passageway to the left and disappeared. Another went through a gateway I didn’t know—it was off to the right and had a well-traveled path before it. The third group invaded Lemuria.”
Dawson and Alton exchanged glances. Alton nodded. “I agree. They’ve gone to Earth. The passage she mentions to the left takes them to Sedona; the other portal will drop them onto the flank of Mount Shasta.” He shook his head. “We’ve not heard from Eddy and Dax for much too long. Taron, I want you to close the portal from Abyss if you can, but also try to contact our friends in Evergreen. Darius should be the strongest communicator. I need to know if they’re all right, if my father lives.”
Taron nodded and clasped Alton’s shoulder. “Alton, I am so sorry. I was caught in the battle. I never got to the portal. I’ll go now. Be careful. The demon king is here, and his army is growing. Plus, he’ll have gained strength from the one that possessed Drago.”
“I know.” Alton pulled Taron into a quick embrace. “It’s okay, my friend. There is nothing to forgive. Go quickly.” Then he turned to Selyn and Isra. “Thank you, Isra. I hope you’ve lost your desire to do harm to Lemuria, as I have a feeling we’ll be able to use one with your fortitude when it comes time to rebuild this world.” He smiled at her, and then he sighed, as if the weight of his world were growing too heavy for any one man’s shoulders to bear.
He gazed out across the vast crowd and then smiled and raised his arms to draw the attention of his people once again. “As my mother explained when I took over my hereditary seat as chancellor of the council, it was to be a temporary position. I want to introduce you to the rightful leader who should have held this seat all along. It is with great honor that I give you my grandfather, Artigos the Just, once king, now the rightful chancellor of the Council of Nine.”
Gasps rose from many. The crowd parted, and Artigos the Just, followed by his army of former slaves and once-possessed guards, strode across the great plaza with his ruby blade held high.
Selyn fought back tears of pride as her sisters, some of them bloodied, all of them smiling, followed their leader, each of them carrying crystal and walking with more pride than any of the free folk could ever hope to understand.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The crowds had long ago dispersed; the plaza was empty of all but a few guards remaining on duty. Others had been sent to search below, to look for evidence of demonkind, though so far there’d been no sign of the foul creatures.
They were still somewhere within Lemuria, but where?
Dawson held tightly to Selyn’s hand as they gathered around a large table, all of them eating in the dining area normally reserved for the members of the Council of Nine. Though the battle was far from won, it was a time of celebration. A small one, but a celebration all the same.
At least enough of the older citizens of Lemuria had remembered a time when Artigos ruled, before the great move from their world in the sun. They associated his leadership with more than the DemonWars—when they heard Artigos the Just speak, it took them back to a time when they’d lived a totally different existence, outside beneath blue skies, free of the fear of demonkind. Free, as well, from the restrictions that had slowly tightened around them—restrictions that denied them the open discourse they’d been so proud of for so long.
They’d led the cheers when he ascended the dais. They’d been the ones to nod in agreement as he painted his picture of the Lemuria to come. There’d been no question as to whether or not his rule would be accepted. Dawson had the feeling he wouldn’t have been able to abdicate, even if he’d wanted to.
It was obvious his people loved him, and just as obvious that he was a born leader. He’d glossed over his son’s part in locking him away and stealing the chancellor’s seat. Had praised his grandson for picking up the mantle of leadership during their prior chancellor’s sudden “illness.”
He’d introduced the Forgotten Ones as women of honor to be treated as the saviors they promised to be, and he’d held up the members of the Lemurian Guard, each man carrying his crystal sword, as equals in every way to the aristocracy. Fighting side by side with the Forgotten Ones, who were forever now to be called
Paladins
of Lemuria, they would hold strong against the threat of demonkind.
Artigos had promised that somehow he would find a way to return Lemurians to, if not the same life they’d had before, at least a life filled with challenge, one that would reawaken the ancient spark of adventure and expectation that had long been buried here in this well-appointed grave they called the new Lemuria.
Man was not meant to live beneath the ground, he said. Lemurians were not meant to exist within caves and tunnels like so many trolls. He’d called on those among them who still had a grasp of the ancient technologies that had once brought them to this world so many eons ago, that had helped to create the new Lemuria within a separate dimension.
Called on them to find a way to create a world in sunlight, separate and yet part of life above ground. He admitted that it could not be done overnight, that it was not going to be easy; but he charged all his people to look toward a future where, once again, they could walk proudly as people of the light, not huddle in darkened caverns, arguing philosophical points that had no bearing on anyone or anything.
And then, with a final call to action, he explained that he was instituting changes that would begin immediately—that women would once again have a voice in their political structure; that the five seats on the board so recently held by demon-possessed men would now go to either women or members of the Lemurian Guard or the working class. All people of all levels of society would have a voice in the new order. Lemuria had once been a democracy. He, Artigos the Just, who was a king by inheritance, would rule, instead, as their new chancellor, both member and head of an entirely new Council of Nine—with all nine of them acting as true representatives to all Lemurians.
It had been a lot to swallow, and with the Lemurian penchant for philosophical discourse, Dawson imagined many, many years of discussion would ensue before all of the new chancellor’s visions came to pass. He hoped to be a part of it, to see this world prosper once again, in the manner in which Artigos described.
But for now, he wanted nothing more than food, and sleep, and time alone with Selyn. So much had happened today, and he was far from absorbing even a fraction of the changes in his life.
Thank goodness for Selyn. She anchored him in a way he’d never expected. Holding on to her made all of this more real. Now his once mundane life was what seemed like the fantasy.
As impossible as these past hours had been.
He’d died today. He’d been dead enough to see his Aunt Fiona, and then he’d been reborn. His sword had saved him, and it had spoken to him, though only that one time.
Of course, he’d not asked it any questions, either.
Like if that “live long and fight many battles” DemonsDeath had promised him meant he’d gained immortality. Was he now a fitting consort for Selyn, and not someone who would, as far as she was concerned, be gone in the blink of an eye?
Of course, all of this might make more sense if he wasn’t teetering on the edge of absolute exhaustion. Daws rubbed his eyes and wondered how embarrassing it would be if his head just sort of dropped into his plate.
Definitely uncool in front of all these brave warriors—the ones who had risked all for their world. Those who would continue to risk all until Lemuria was safe from the threat of demonkind.
He blinked owlishly. Good Lord in heaven, he was one of them, wasn’t he? Who’d have ever thought … well, crap.
Dawson Buck, demon fighter!
Laughing out loud was probably inappropriate, too.
Artigos the Just ruled with a natural grace from the head of the table, but they’d all spent the past half hour eating without much conversation. Dawson couldn’t recall the last meal he’d eaten, or how long it had been since he’d slept, but he still felt high, both energized and exhausted from the events of the preceding hours.
The moment he allowed himself to relax, he was probably going to crash, and crash hard. That image of his face in his plate flashed through his mind again.
Then Artigos rose to his feet, tapping a golden fork against his crystal goblet to get everyone’s attention. He looked at Alton first, and then his gaze seemed to pass over and light upon every one of them at the big table.
“There are no words powerful enough to relay my feelings,” he said. “My gratitude … my absolute pride in all of you. My grandson Alton, Ginny, Roland, Taron …”
He smiled at Taron. “Thank you, young man, for closing the portal from Abyss today. I know you fear ’tis but a temporary repair, but it appears to have slowed access from Abyss to Lemuria for now, and for that we are all grateful.”
He shook his head slowly, side to side. “So many of you have risked all today. Selyn. Dawson Buck. All of the Forgotten Ones …” He chuckled. “Excuse me,
Paladins
of Lemuria, their wardens, brave men all, who showed themselves to be strong and honorable warriors …” His voice broke as he continued. “I am honored to have such brave, powerful, true …” He cleared his throat and a shuddering breath gave weight to his words. “… such good, decent people on my side.”
He looked around the crowded table, at the three remaining council members—the only ones who’d remained free of the demons’ taint—then at Nica and Isra, Birk and Grayl, and his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “This battle is far from over. The demon king and many of his minions remain within the walls of Lemuria, but we will flush him out tomorrow, after we’ve rested. Guards have been set with orders to warn of any sign of demonkind. Unless they raise the alarm, I don’t expect to see any of you before dawning.”
He glanced at Alton with a very tired smile on his face. “Is that what they still call it here, in this tomb we’ve existed in for so many millennia? Dawning?”
Alton grinned and slowly nodded his head. “Yes, grandfather. It’s still called dawning, though few, if any of our citizens recall what a real dawn looks like.”
Artigos nodded and looked away. Dawson thought of inviting him to Sedona when all of this was over. Artigos would like it there, with its vast open spaces and colorful mountains—and its blue, blue sky with the sun shining overhead.
For now, though, all of them needed sleep. Isra and Nica were the first to rise. They left, accompanied by the Lemurian guards who’d joined the gathering here with Artigos. They’d be heading toward the barracks where they’d bunk in quarters that had been quickly divided to allow a place for the women, separate from the men.
Women would forevermore make up part of the Lemurian Guard.
Roland was right behind them. He’d spent much time away from his wife, and Chara wanted him home. Dawson grinned as he returned Roland’s jaunty wave. The loyal, hard-working guard deserved a night off.
They all did, and yet demonkind was a bigger threat at this point than it had been at any time before. The demon king was hiding somewhere in Lemuria, undetected even by crystal. They’d searched after the battle, but there’d been no sign of him.
More men searched even now, deep within the levels beneath the ones where the free folk lived.
Free folk… .
They were all free folk now, weren’t they? He wondered if it had really sunk in for Selyn.
“Are you ready?” Selyn stood up and tugged Dawson’s hand. He nodded. They followed Alton and Ginny as they showed them where Alton’s quarters were, where he and Selyn planned to spend the night. Ginny and Alton were staying in Gaia’s rooms, and Artigos the Just was moving into Alton’s father’s quarters.
Everything was temporary, and yet Dawson felt a sense of homecoming. At first it surprised him, until he realized that home for him was wherever Selyn decided to stay.
They paused before the portal to Alton’s place, and Ginny drew her sword.
The blade pulsed with a gentle lavender glow and then went still. “Looks clear,” Ginny said. “No sign of demonkind.” She yawned. “See you guys in the morning.” Then she sheathed DarkFire and followed Alton along the passage.
Holding tightly to Selyn’s hand, Dawson slipped through the portal into the apartment. It was clean and quiet; the refrigerator stocked; the bed freshly made. After a moment of searching, they discovered the bathing pool in the back.
Memories of the last time he’d bathed with Selyn flooded Dawson’s mind, but he quickly controlled his wayward thoughts.
At least, he tried to, and he figured he was doing a pretty good job until Selyn grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the steamy room with the sound of flowing water and the softly glowing walls.
She quietly undressed, tossing her torn and ragged scrubs into a pile on the floor. Dawson slipped out of his boots and the worn jeans still caked with dried blood. He kicked his clothes to one side and slid into the steaming water beside Selyn.
She groaned, floated close, and lay her head against his shoulder. “I ache in places I didn’t know could hurt,” she said. Her eyes were closed, her lips softly parted. The soft curves of her full breasts, barely visible beneath the steamy surface, teased him unmercifully.
He rubbed his cheek against her dark hair, overwhelmed by feelings of tenderness for his brave warrior woman. “Poor baby.” He said it lightly, but he was only partially teasing. “You’re covered with cuts and bruises and scratches. Soaking should help.” He tilted his head and kissed a long, red mark that ran over her shoulder.
“My injuries are nothing.” She turned and stared gravely at him, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. “You died today, Dawson. I saw you die and felt a part of myself die as well. Then I watched you return to life. I still can’t believe what happened.” She paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t want to think about what could have happened. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. My grief was too great. I was afraid if I started, I would never be able to stop.”
Her soft words tugged painfully at his heart. He didn’t want to think what it would have been like if Selyn had been the one to fall. So easily it could have been her, not him, and it could happen still. They’d not yet won this battle. Not by a long shot.
Selyn raised her head. Her sorrowful gaze, tear-filled eyes, and parted lips were more than he could deny. Daws kissed her, gently at first, not intending more than this most basic connection, but Selyn wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted, half floating, until she straddled him. Then she locked her knees against his hips and kissed him back.
All thoughts of sleep, of drying off and crawling into bed for a good night’s rest, deserted him with the first taste of her lips. The tip of her tongue brushed his; her full breasts pressed tightly against his chest. He pulled her closer, wrapped his arms around her waist, and held Selyn so that she could never be free of him.
Not ever.
When she rose up on her knees and then lowered herself, slowly and carefully taking him deep inside, Daws groaned with the purity of their joining, with the sense that he might never have had the chance to touch Selyn like this again, might never again have known the utter bliss of making love to her.
Slowly she moved her hips back and forth over him, finding her own rhythm, one she shared with Dawson. A rhythm as strong and steady as a beating heart, as powerful as forever, until the two of them were loving to a beat that was theirs and theirs alone.