The Brutal Time Special Edition

by Christina Bauer

  “That I did. I need a snack before we take off.” Leaning forward, she starts chowing down on the horse in question. I turn around and pretend to find the nearby trees super-fascinating. A lot of crunching and slurping sounds follow. It’s gross.

  “Are you done?” I ask.

  Ximena burps. “Yes. Now I’ll take you find Merlin and Nimue. But on one condition.”

  “Name it. ”

  “I want to be free while all the other archdemons are locked up. Colossus included.”

  “Deal.”

  “Good. Now climb aboard my back.”

  I slowly turn around to face her. This is Ximena, after all. I pat my tail. “Hey, boy.”

  My tail flips up so the arrowhead end points toward my face. That’s it’s way of saying, what’s up?

  “Should we trust her?” I ask. This is far from the weirdest thing I’ve done today, by the way.

  The arrowhead end flips between looking at Ximena and focusing on me. After a long minute of this, it bobs in an up and down motion. Yes.

  Fluff takes the opportunity to materialize as well. “Trust, trust,” he says.

  I grin. “Yay, you made it!”

  With that resolved, I scramble up Ximena’s front leg and get myself situated on her back.

  “Ximena? It’s not a hundred percent clear where I put my hands. Should I—”

  But before I can even finish the question, Ximena has taken to the skies.

  And I scream my head off.

  39

  Lincoln

  My battle with Null was a failure. The Archdemon of Sloth wanted to be killed. The faster Null died, the more quickly he was reunited with Colossus … and the sooner the King of the Archdemons got free. A word appears in my mind’s eye.

  Failsafe.

  This is all part of the Pendragon’s design. I count three failsafes so far. First, the other archdemons were imprisoned apart from Colossus. Second, the archdemons must rejoin with Colossus’ seal for the archdemon king to get free. Third, a golden path slows down that reunion.

  Bottom line? My goal isn’t to kill the archdemons, but to delay them. Destroying them is a last resort.

  Which shouldn’t be a problem. Perhaps.

  I’ve spent years training thrax for demon patrol. The entire goal during these sessions is to keep my sparring partners alive, upright, and fighting for as long as possible. Straightening my back, I lock my gaze on the white disc.

  I can do this.

  Suddenly, the pale seal spins once more. This time, it stops with the numeral two at the top.

  Next archdemon, coming up.

  Again, the disc takes on the look of liquid. Just like before, a gauntleted fist presses through. Only this armor isn’t rusted; it’s black and spotless. The entire warrior follows next.

  It’s Rage, the Archdemon of Wrath.

  Unlike Null, Rage grips short swords in each hand. For my part, I ignite my baculum into a long sword. Footsteps sound behind me. Turning, I see an unexpected sight.

  The knights of the round table.

  “We shall aid zee in zhy battle,” says Lancelot. It’s a little hard to understand him through his French accent, but I get the general idea.

  I stifle the urge to groan. When it looked like fighting archdemons got you killed, then these warriors hid in a corner. I didn’t even get so much as a fare thee well when I stood my ground. Now that it seems the fights are rather easy, they’re all lined up to help.

  Our group stands about half way between the Archdemon of Wrath and his goal: the seal of Colossus.

  “Here’s the plan,” I state. “We are not to kill the archdemon, only slow him down.”

  Lancelot raises his sword. “For king and glory!”

  “No glory,” I say quickly. “We’re here to prevent that guy—” I point to Rage “—from merging with that seal.” When I speak the words that seal, I gesture toward the red disc of Colossus.

  “Zeee foul demon shall not triumph,” says Lancelot. “Come along, men. Destroy zee Archdemon of Wrath!”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “What part of slow down but don’t kill him was unclear?” Shaking my head, I stay in battle stance. Twelve men are already attacking a single foe. This isn’t the largest chamber ever. Not sure they’ll all have room to raise their swords.

  At least, they aren’t at risk. If the Archdemon of Sloth is any indication, the knights will deliver the slightest of attacks and Wrath will self-destruct.

  Lancelot raises his blade high, ready to fight. Wrath swipes his short swords through the air with such speed, the blades become nothing but a dark blur.

  A moment later Lancelot still stands before the Archdemon of Wrath.

  Only difference is, the knight is without a head. His lifeless body collapses onto the floor.

  A stunned silence follows. All the knights stare at Lancelot, their faces pale with shock. They aren’t alone. Unlike Null, Rage wants to fight. Which makes sense, only it leads to a conclusion that makes my heart sink.

  Each one of these archdemons will have their own way of battling over to reach Colossus.

  This will be tricky.

  As if to emphasize that point, Rage goes after the knights. His massive body is s blur of motion as his short sword wheels through the air. Within a matter of seconds, Rage has killed every last warrior.

  Then the Archdemon of Wrath turns to me. Pulling a dagger from his armor, Rage tosses the weapon at my heart. I leap out of the way, but not fast enough. The blade lodges in my side. I crumple to my knees. Pain radiates through my torso.

  Rage pauses before me. I yank the dagger from my side and toss it to the ground with a clang. Warm blood oozes along my skin. Fresh jolts of pain cut through me. Rage doesn’t bother with a battle stance as he raises his short-swords high. Clearly, the Archdemon of Wrath doesn’t think I have the strength to fight back.

  That’s my only advantage.

  Rage swoops down to strike me. I always knew some deadly sins were related. In this case, wrath and sloth. Now that Rage thinks he’s beaten me, he no longer bothers with supernatural speed. That’s just plain lazy.

  And it’s a big mistake.

  As the blade lowers, I leap aside while splitting my own weapon into short swords. Rage moves to strike again while I lift my blades. Our weapons connect. We strike and block. Lunge and dodge. Neither of us connect another body strike. One of Rage’s short swords gets sliced in half by repeated hits from my angelfire blade, but beyond that? It’s a stalemate.

  Minutes pass. All my angelic power focuses on meeting Rage blow for blow. Still, my wound seeps blood. Although I can follow the battle, spots of white appear in my vision.

  I’m passing out.

  Rage slams me against the wall. His left hand grips my throat, choking me. The archdemon raises his broken sword, ready to plunge it into my throat.

  With that, the truth is unavoidable.

  This needs to end.

  I will my baculum to take the form of a dagger and plunge it into the demon’s belly. Rage crumples over, dead. I fall to my knees as well, gasping for breath.

  Sure, I bought some time, but I paid a heavy price for it.

  And there are five more demons to delay.

  Beside me, Wrath’s body disintegrates into a red mist. As with Null before, that vapor flies across the chamber to soak into the seal of Colossus. For a moment, nothing happens. Then the mural of Colossus’ face transforms. Before it was a shallow image. Now a full three-dimensional head pops out from the red seal. The King of the Archdemons focuses on me again. The yellow eyes in his goat-like head shine with light and power.

  “You won’t last one more battle, let alone five,” declares Colossus.

  And sadly enough, the archdemon king may very well be right.

  40

  Myla

  I’ve never ridden a dragon before. The experience isn’t a barrel of laughs. In five steps, here’s what’s been happening.

  One. We fly along. I work har
d not to look down. After a few minutes, I relax a little.

  Two. All of a sudden, Ximena goes in a loop-de-loop.

  Three. Lots of screaming from yours truly.

  Four. More screaming while I grab onto Ximena’s back plates for dear life.

  Five. Ximena straightens out, claiming she saw Nimue and Merlin and had to loop around to double check. But her statement is undermined by her low chuckle.

  Methinks Ximena is toying with me.

  Enough already. This dragon needs to stop goofing off and find Nimue and Merlin. Any second now, my guy could get flattened.

  I knock on her back plates. “Ximena?” I ask. “How’s it going?”

  “Still no sign of Merlin or Nimue.” Ximena’s got dragon-sight, so I trust her take.

  My mind whirs. Where would Nimue and Merlin go? Then it hits me. After getting kicked out of Camelot again, perhaps the siblings wanted to visit their happy place. I knock on Ximena’s plates once more.

  “Do you know the lake where the Pendragon sleeps?” I ask.

  “Ah, yes,” says Dragon-Ximena. “That is a fine place to check.”

  Dragon-Ximena spreads out her wings, arcs through the sky, and speeds off in a new direction. Since she’s no longer scanning the ground, we’re now hitting new levels of holy shit when it comes to speed.

  And I thought the loop-de-loops were bad.

  Not that I’m complaining. In a way, it feels better to be racing off somewhere versus the previous rhythm of slow-slow-slow-holy-fuck-we’re-upside-down.

  Soon we’re landing by a familiar lake surrounded with pine trees. I exhale.

  And there they are.

  Merlin and Nimue sit by the water’s edge. They’re in almost the exact same spot where they summoned Pendragon castle.

  I slide off Dragon-Ximena, straighten my leather armor, and get my head in gear. I need help; here’s where I can find it. After all, I talked Ximena into aiding me. How hard can these two be?

  For her part, Dragon-Ximena plops onto her belly, curls her long tail around her torso, and waits. Her serpentine pupils thin as she focuses on me. Her words are there if unspoken.

  You’re on your own, Myla Lewis.

  Which is fine. I am solo girl anyway. Plus Dragon-Ximena is more than a little distracting.

  I lift my chin. I can do this. Lincoln, Maxon, my family, and my world—everyone relies on me.

  My pulse decides that now is a great time to skyrocket. Guess the whole it’s all on me pep talk wasn’t my best.

  Ah, well. It’s not like I can sit by a lake and mope. I need to get me some mages.

  I saunter over to the water’s edge. The siblings don’t look up as I approach, so I plunk down beside them. I rub my palms together and hope an awesome speech appears in my head.

  Nothing.

  The siblings stay silent, so one fact is clear. If anything will happen here, it’s coming from the Myla Lewis side of the lake.

  A question pops into my mind. What would I usually do? Because that stuff is mostly a failure, so I can just suck those words back into my mouth before they’re even spoken.

  I picture Alli-somebody. If this were her, I’d just order her to help me save Lincoln and then run from the room. So that’s out. No commanding Nimue and Merlin to help me.

  Next I imagine Lincoln and Walker. We work together on stuff all the time. Mostly, it just sort of happens, though. We’re aligned on what to do and the rest follows from there. Not practical.

  Another memory appears. This time, it’s my chatting with my real father about visiting the fading angels. I knew he couldn’t resist my eye-batting and please-please-please routine.

  Maybe that could be something.

  I twirl my hair and think things through. I manipulated Dad for good when it came to the fading angels. My father can’t resist my pleading. But what drives Merlin and Nimue? I glance over in their direction.

  Sure enough, the pair stare at the still water. Shoulders slumped. Eyes glistening. There’s one topic that’s super powerful for them. The Pendragon.

  A plan forms.

  I take in a long breath and hope for verbal fireworks. “The Pendragon was your hero.”

  The siblings don’t look in my direction, but they do move their heads in the barest of nods. I’m counting that as a win.

  “The academy must have had many students.”

  “From all over the world,” explains Nimue. “Arthur would never have met the academy’s standards, but … you know the story.”

  “That I do. You’re right about King Arthur being awful. But the Pendragon’s a super-powerful mage who could have done anything with his life. Yet he chose to teach and help others.”

  For the first time, Merlin and Nimue swing their gazes in my direction. I take that as a win, part two.

  “Right now, I’m fighting for my future. So is my husband. There’s no time to find enough mages to power the new Opus Magica. The Pendragon can’t wake up and help us. But if he could, what would he say right now? You two are the most powerful mages alive. Yet you’re sitting by a lake and boo-hooing instead of using the tools he taught you.”

  The siblings stare at me and damn, I wish I could read the looks on their faces.

  Will they help or not? Because if the answer is no, then I need to high-tail it back to Camelot and do whatever I can. Which, let’s face it, is probably to die fighting at Lincoln’s side.

  The ground beneath me rumbles. Small orbs of red light appear around me. Magic. A few feet away a small pit forms in the earth. My inner wrath demon stirs.

  A battle is coming.

  Dragon-Ximena lifts her long neck and gazes between me and the dark opening. “That pit will draw you to the prison-crypt of Colossus.”

  I hop to my feet. Fighting stance. “So I’m off battle the archdemons?”

  “Yes,” replies Ximena. “Only when it comes to archdemons, fighting isn’t always what you’d expect.”

  Eh, fighting-shmiting. It’s all the same. Besides, big speeches aren’t my thing. The whole Pendragon would be ashamed of you talk isn’t a clear winner, that’s for certain. But slicing up some archdemon with Lincoln at my side? That’s exactly what I need.

  The pit grows wider until the ground beneath my feet falls away. I tumble through the darkness and smile.

  41

  Myla

  Total blackness surrounds me as I fall through space.

  And fall

  And fall.

  It’s getting a little boring, to be honest.

  The next thing I know, I’ve landed on my feet. Woot. A small pool of light surrounds me. Beyond that, it’s all pure blackness in every direction.

  Weird. But that’s my life.

  Misty voices echo through the darkness. I tilt my head, straining to hear. Could that be Lincoln speaking? It’s hard to tell—the words sound as if they’re spoken through water. I don’t catch everything, but I do hear the words not Lincoln and enchantment.

  Yet none of that matters. Lincoln himself steps into the pool of light. He’s naked from the waist up, wearing leather pants and nothing else. Every inch of him is gleams as if he’s made from gold. Waves of power seep from him and encircle me.

  Now, I’m a lust demon myself, so I can tell when someone is sending sexy-time mojo my way. So I steel myself from this vision. Lincoln is part angel. This version simply can’t be real. It’s a demon Lincoln and that pisses me off. My inner wrath demon roars. Heat and rage stir my soul.

  Fake Lincoln moves in to kiss me. So I do the only natural thing in such a situation.

  I knee him in the balls.

  42

  Lincoln

  I hadn’t been worried when I saw how my next battle would pit me against Lester, the Archdemon of Lust.

  There were no concerns when Lester seeped out of the white seal. After all, the archdemon still wore his bard’s ensemble.

  Lester then transformed into a golden version of me. Still, I wasn’t too anxious. Lester-Lincoln sto
od bare chested and carried no weapons.

  Then Myla appeared.

  My attitude changed.

  This was my real wife, keeper of my heart and mother of my child. And Lester pulled her in here for a reason. It wasn’t a good one. Alarm rattled through my nervous system. I wanted to slice Lester through, yet I forced myself to stay still.

  Remember, Lincoln. This is about every person in the after-realms. You’re here to slow Lester down.

  Besides, Myla’s an Arena fighter. She can handle herself.

  As Lester-Lincoln stepped closer to Myla, I called out to my girl over and over.

  “This isn’t real!”

  “That’s not me!”

  “See past the enchantment!”

  Then Lester-Lincoln tried to kiss her. Big mistake. Myla fought back with a quick knee to the groin. However, Lester must have encountered this move before. He didn’t flinch, let alone back away.

  Which brings me to now.

  Lester-Lincoln pins my wife against a wall. All rational thought fades from my brain. A primal drive wraps about my soul, taking over every cell in my body.

  Myla is my wife. My angelbound love. No one else touches her.

  Igniting my baculum into a longsword, I race toward Lester-Lincoln. In one stroke, I slice him through from head to heel. The archdemon instantly dissolves into mist. Dead, or as dead as things get in this prison. Once again, the colored haze that was once Lester’s body now speeds into the red disc. The essence of the Archdemon of Lust rejoins Colossus.

  The red seal transforms.

  The round stone now becomes an empty circular window. Colossus sets his hands on the lower edge and hauls himself out. Now his head, arms, and torso are all free. The rest of him is still trapped behind the wall and seal. All the while, Colossus’s skin stays as smooth and firm as red stone.

  I should be enraged.

  Terrified.

  Scheming.

  Yet all I can focus on is Myla. I reach toward her. “Are you all right?”