Scythe glanced back at the shimmering portal on the ground.
“How long will it stay open?” she wondered aloud.
“Vaaler wasn’t sure,” Keegan said. “He thinks a few days unless we use it first.”
“What happens if Cassandra doesn’t show before then?” Scythe asked. “Or if she doesn’t show up at all? Do you have any idea how to fulfill Jerrod’s prophecy and restore the Legacy?”
Keegan turned to look at the massive black obelisk, craning his neck as he let his gaze run all the way up the black stone until it reached the top. Neither the swirling shadows trapped inside the rock nor the strange symbols carved into its surface offered any immediate answers.
“She’ll be here,” he insisted, recalling his dreams. “And I think we’ll know what to do when the time comes.”
—
Orath felt the incredible weight of an entire ocean pressing in on him from all sides. He’d been clinging to the ship’s wheel when the Chaos Spawn dragged the bow of The Chaos Runner down. As the ship went under the surface, he felt one of the smaller tentacles wrap itself around his ankle.
He struggled in vain to break free from the monstrous grip as he was pulled toward the ocean floor. And then suddenly the beast released him; driven back to its lair by the power of the Crown. He was free but still hundreds of feet below the surface.
At this depth there was no light, and the extreme pressure was more than most surface-dwelling creatures could survive. But Orath was strong enough to endure, for a few minutes at least.
Orath peeled away the living suit of Bo-Shing’s skin, tearing the flesh away in long, sinewy strips. Summoning Chaos, he launched himself upward, cutting through the black water like an arrow shot toward the surface.
He was moving fast, but the surface was far, far away. His lungs began to burn; even a Minion needed to breathe. After what seemed like an eternity the darkness slowly receded as he reached a depth pierced by a few dim rays of the sun. The water around him turned from black to green and finally blue, even as his starving lungs screamed out in protest. Just when he thought they’d explode, he breached, his body instinctively gulping in air as fast as it could.
For several seconds he couldn’t even think, his mind panicked by the terror of almost drowning. But the fear soon passed and Orath’s composure returned. Though he couldn’t see Cassandra or the Crown, he could feel the pull of the Talisman off in the distance, drifting slowly toward the island on the horizon.
Orath followed, swimming with long, powerful strokes.
—
Cassandra was struggling to stay conscious, her mind desperate to sleep so it could recover from her recent mental battles. Clinging to the plank from The Chaos Runner’s hull, she floated along in a haze.
When the tide finally brought her into the shallow waters near the island’s shore, she didn’t even open her eyes. Lacking the strength to stand, she let go of the wood and crawled through the shallow surf on her hands and knees, still clutching the Crown in one hand.
Tiny rocks scraped up her hands and knees, their sharp edges cutting through her clothes. But Cassandra wasn’t even aware enough to register the pain. She scuttled forward like a blind crab until she reached the safety of the beach, then collapsed on the warm sand, the Crown finally slipping from her grasp.
—
“I see something!” Scythe shouted, peering out toward the beach.
Keegan followed her gaze but couldn’t pick anything out on the horizon.
“Where?” he asked.
“Someone just crawled out of the ocean,” Scythe said, her vision allowing her to pick out the figure at nearly a mile away. “It’s Cassandra!”
She broke into a run, heading toward the beach. Keegan tried to follow but was quickly left far behind.
Scythe could see that Cassandra wasn’t moving. The Crown lay beside her, the sunlight reflecting brightly off its shining surface.
Keegan was laboring along slowly behind her, but Scythe didn’t slow. Cassandra might see them as an enemy; she might try to use her Talisman against them. But if Scythe could get to the Crown before Cassandra regained consciousness, she could nullify the threat.
She was still a quarter mile away when another figure rose from the waves. It was tall and thin, but its batlike features were clearly not human. It fixed its yellow eyes on Scythe as she rushed forward, then flicked them down to the Crown.
Powered by the Sword, Scythe was running so fast her hair flew straight out behind her and the wind whistled in her ears. But the creature was much closer, and it lunged forward and wrapped its long, skeletal fingers around the Talisman while she was still a hundred yards away.
It gave her a look of utter disdain, then placed the Crown atop its head.
—
Orath saw his opportunity and seized it. Cassandra was helpless, the Crown was his for the taking. The mortal charging toward him carried Daemron’s Sword, and Orath knew how deadly the weapon could be. But of all the Talismans, the Crown was the most powerful.
He placed it atop his head, eager to unleash its full power against both her and Cassandra.
Instead, the inside of his skull exploded.
—
Rexol had tried to take the Crown from Cassandra twice. But she was wary of his presence, and she had been able to cast him out. The creature that wore the Talisman now had no idea he was lurking.
The wizard struck hard and fast, shredding his unsuspecting victim’s mind. Bits and pieces of knowledge bubbled up into Rexol’s own consciousness as he tore away at the other’s identity. Orath. Minions. A netherworld beyond the Legacy ruled by Daemron the Slayer.
The mage ripped away everything, wiping out all traces of what the thing once had been. In seconds it was over: Orath, last surviving Minion of Daemron the Slayer, was gone.
Only Rexol remained, his consciousness fully possessing the body of a creature from the other side of the Legacy. With his new eyes he saw a young woman rushing toward him, a blade raised above her head to strike him down. The weapon burned with the power of Old Magic.
But Rexol now possessed Old Magic of his own, and he opened himself up to the glorious power of the Crown.
—
Scythe was only thirty feet away when a brilliant burst of green light erupted from the figure on the beach. It rolled toward her like a wave, throwing up a swirling wall of sand.
She ducked her head into the crook of her arm to shield her eyes as she held the Sword vertically out in front of her with both hands. The wave of green light washed over her, knocking her off her feet and burying her in the sand.
A booming voice echoed inside her head, and she knew it was coming from the thing wearing the Crown.
I am Rexol, and I am a God! Kneel before me!
Scythe felt her legs buckling as if to comply with his command, but she caught herself before she obeyed.
“Scythe!” Keegan screamed from somewhere behind her. “The Keystone!”
The horror in his voice compelled her to turn away from Rexol. The obelisk was still standing, but a giant crack now ran through the smooth black stone of the side facing her.
I am Rexol, and I am a God! the voice inside her head screamed out again. Even though it was only a thought, Scythe could hear the madness in it.
She snapped her head back to Rexol, but he no longer seemed aware she was there. He stood with his long, thin arms raised to the sky as a bank of dark, purple clouds gathered above him. He was surrounded by a dark green glow that crackled and popped with barely contained energy.
Even Scythe could see he was summoning Chaos, though to what end she couldn’t guess.
I am Rexol, he cried out again, and I am a God!
He’s snapped! Scythe realized. The Crown is too much for him to handle!
Something exploded behind her: a wet, horrible sound. Wheeling around, she saw the air thirty feet behind her shimmer and shift. A dark black sphere materialized, hovering a few feet off the ground. At fi
rst it was the size of a fist, but it quickly stretched to several feet across. As it grew, the awful noise intensified—the sound of reality itself being torn apart.
The Legacy! Scythe realized. It’s crumbling!
A misshapen, three-fingered hand emerged from inside the sphere, clutching at the edge as some nameless abomination hauled itself through. The thing stood roughly the height of a tall man, though its arms and legs were disproportionally short and its torso was round and bloated. It was naked and hairless, its gray flesh hanging too loosely on its frame. It had no nose, and its mouth was nothing but a gaping maw of pointed teeth. It had only one eye, perfectly centered in its forehead. In one hand it held a crude axe.
The creature lunged for her, making a clumsy swing with the axe. Scythe easily dodged the axe, then ran the Sword through its eye, felling it with a single blow.
Reality shrieked in protest again as the sphere stretched wider, its lower edge now reaching all the way down to the ground. Another monstrosity came through; this one had the head and torso of a woman atop the body of an enormous black snake. She was bald, and her skin was covered in scales. She carried no weapon, but instead of arms she had two long, segmented appendages tipped with deadly stingers, like a pair of scorpions’ tails.
The thing slithered toward Scythe, moving fast. It lashed out with a stinger, but Scythe ducked to the side and responded by slicing the horrifying limb off halfway up its length. The snakelike tail lashed out to sweep her off her feet, but Scythe jumped up at the last second and it harmlessly whipped past beneath her boots.
She lashed out with the Sword, slicing a deep, diagonal wound across the thing’s female torso. The woman’s head screamed once though it sounded more like a hiss, and the creature collapsed and began to spasm uncontrollably on the ground.
Ignoring the death throes of her opponent, Scythe focused her attention on the ever-expanding sphere. The wet, ripping sound assailed her ears again, and this time two of the living nightmares came through at the same time.
—
Keegan heard Rexol’s voice echoing in his head, but he didn’t have time to wonder how the mind of his dead master had returned inside the inhuman body now wearing the Crown.
Rexol had unleashed a powerful wave of uncontrolled Chaos magic, and the Keystone had fractured, opening a hole in the Legacy. Scythe had already slain the first two creatures to come through the breach, but she was now locked in fierce combat with two more.
He was still too far from the beach to make out any of the horrific details as Scythe hacked and slashed at her enemies, the battle happening much too fast for his eyes to follow. As he ran, he began to draw Chaos from the Ring, summoning it to unleash against Scythe’s opponents.
When the gathering Chaos reached a critical mass, he stopped. But instead of releasing it, he hesitated. Scythe already had one of her foes down, the other was sure to follow quickly—she didn’t need his help. But he could hear the rising scream that signaled another wave of invaders coming into the mortal world.
He unleashed the Chaos, targeting the black gate that hung in the air on the edge of the beach. Even if there was some kind of spell he could cast to seal the breach, it was beyond his knowledge and skill. But if he couldn’t close the passage, he could at least stop the enemy from coming through.
Blue fire shot from his hands, enveloping the two figures just emerging from the breach. They howled in pain as the Chaos incinerated them, reducing them to small piles of ash in only seconds.
Near the water’s edge, a massive Chaos storm was building above Rexol. It was already starting to grow beyond his control; Keegan could feel the power rolling out across the island in a slow but steady stream.
I am Immortal! the wizard howled, and his cackling laughter filled Keegan’s head.
There was a thunderous crack, and he knew another fissure had appeared in the Keystone. A second sphere materialized near the beach, fifty feet away from the first one, and began to grow.
Scythe had just finished off her last foe, and Keegan opened his mouth to tell her they had to stop Rexol. But his warning was lost in a deafening cascade of cracks and snaps reverberating across the island.
A dozen of the hovering black spheres materialized, scattered and spaced along the edge of the beach. Seconds later, the inhuman horde came pouring through.
There was no time to think; Keegan simply reacted by throwing everything the Ring had at them. Bolts of blue lightning arced from his fingertips, jumping from target to target in the closely packed enemy ranks. Blue fire rained down from the sky, melting anyone and anything it touched. Pillars of flame erupted from the ground like geysers, wreaking havoc.
He was dimly aware of Scythe leaping and spinning through the magical carnage. Protected by the Sword, she had no fear of his spells as she hacked her way through the advancing army. And for a second Keegan thought they might hold the enemy at bay.
And then Daemron the Slayer appeared.
—
Cassandra was pulled back to consciousness by the clamor of battle and the cackling laughter of Rexol ringing through her mind. As awareness came back to her, she instantly recognized Rexol, despite the unfamiliar form he now wore.
He was standing on the beach less than ten yards away from where she lay, his arms reaching up to the unnatural storm raging above him. As he had in Callastan, he was gorging himself on the power of Old Magic, gathering Chaos until it filled him and spilled out into the mortal world. But this time, Cassandra realized with dawning horror, his madness had actually brought the Legacy down.
Strange, dark spheres dotted the island—passages to a realm far beyond the mortal world. Through them came scores of grotesquely mutated beings, driven by hate and hunger. On the other side of the spheres she could sense thousands more lying in wait; the gibbering masses of Daemron’s twisted army.
Two figures fought bravely against the Slayer’s vanguard. A young Islander woman wielding a wondrous Sword mowed down wave after wave of the invaders while a young man she recognized as Rexol’s apprentice unleashed devastating Chaos magic against them.
But her attention was ripped away from the heroic pair by the arrival of a God. She had never seen Daemron but she recognized him instantly: He glowed with the power of an Immortal.
A red-skinned giant, he stood over eight feet tall, his naked, muscular torso perched atop powerful legs ending in heavy hooves. A pair of thick horns curled up from his head, and he hovered a foot above the battlefield on a pair of massive leathery wings, his long tail whipping back and forth in eager anticipation of victory.
His arrival seemed to rally his troops, and suddenly the tide of battle shifted. The young woman’s advance through the enemy ranks stalled, and she was forced into a fighting retreat.
Tilting his head back, Daemron roared to the sky. His voice snuffed out the fiery rain and deadly lightning of the young wizard, and his forces surged forward.
“Rexol!” Cassandra screamed, trying to reach him with both her mind and her voice. “Help them!”
Somehow, her cry pierced the veil of his insanity, and Rexol turned his attention from the sky toward the battle.
“The Crown is mine!” he shouted, his voice echoing across the island and in her head.
He began to laugh, a shrill, high-pitched sound that drove itself into the back of Cassandra’s skull. The violet storm clouds gathered above him swooped down and enveloped Daemron and his army, gripping them all in the mage’s madness.
The hideous swarm turned on itself. Instead of attacking the humans, the creatures fell on each other with wild, reckless abandon. They bit and slashed with tooth and claw, furiously ripping and tearing at anything and everything within reach. Even Daemron was affected: the Slayer landing in the middle of the battlefield to unleash slaughter on his own followers.
The Islander and the young wizard staggered away from the bloody carnage, falling back to stand side by side on the edge of the beach, watching in dumbfounded amazement. Inside Ca
ssandra’s head, Rexol’s maniacal laughter continued unabated.
—
The bloodlust that possessed him faded after only a few seconds, but in that short time Daemron had already butchered dozens.
The Crown is even more powerful than I remember!
Spreading his wings he launched himself skyward, away from the mindless bloodbath.
Seeing Orath standing on the beach wearing his Crown, he suspected treachery at first. But then he realized it was not Orath but a mortal who had possessed the Minion’s body.
“I am a God!” he cried out, once more trying to use the Talisman to dominate Daemron’s mind. “Kneel before me!”
But this time the Slayer was prepared, and he resisted the compulsion.
“Obey me!” the mortal shrieked. “I command you to kneel!”
Daemron dropped from the sky like a stone, hitting the earth with a heavy thud. But instead of kneeling, he scooped up a crude axe left behind by one of the fallen. With a mighty flap of his wings the Slayer took to the sky again and sent the axe flying end over end.
The heavy blade buried itself in Orath’s long, thin face, cleaving the front of his skull wide open. The force of the blow sent the Crown flying backward, and the mortal who had dared to use one of his own Talismans against him toppled over, dead.
KEEGAN WAS ALMOST grateful when the dull, heavy thud of the axe burying itself in Rexol’s face put an end to the wizard’s insane laughter inside his head. But with Rexol’s death, the purple clouds hovering over the battlefield began to dissipate.
Reinforcements were already coming through the breach, though as they arrived they were struck with the same killing frenzy that had decimated the first wave. But it wouldn’t be long before the spell evaporated completely and the Chaos horde once more rallied against them.
We have to strike now! Keegan thought. The Crown had affected Daemron—clearly he wasn’t immune to his own Talismans. Together, the Ring and the Sword could take the Slayer down!
“Now’s our chance, Keegan!” Scythe shouted as she rushed forward, obviously coming to the same conclusion.
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