Weaponforger (Guardian's Prophecy Book 3)

by D A Godwin

  Follow my blade.

  With a flash of silver, Shalindra hammered Shining Moon onto it, driving his sword like a guillotine through the demon’s wrist.

  The creature roared in agony and jerked away as its severed hand dropped to the ground, dragging sword and Tormjere with it. The demon clenched its jaw as its stony skin began to stretch and meld over the wound.

  Tormjere pushed himself off the spike. His vision blurred and dimmed as he willed his perception to shift, searching for the small embers of power leaking from the demon’s severed stump. He drew them to himself, tearing them from the still-living creature as it had done to the wizard, using the energy to close the gaping hole in his stomach.

  The demon recoiled from him in surprise, covering the wound with its good hand as it turned away.

  Tormjere staggered to his feet, still clutching his stomach and hoping it had been enough.

  Eluria help me, your insides are a mess. Hold still. Tormjere, please.

  With jerky steps, Tormjere advanced towards the crouching demon. It sprang at him in a savage frenzy nearly too fast to follow. Silver and silvery-blue sparks lit the night as both women struggled to keep him alive.

  “He’s too close,” Honarch yelled. “I can’t risk attacking!”

  “Do it anyway!” Enna screamed at him.

  Honarch’s swirling ball of fire exploded against the creature’s head, showering Tormjere with globs of flame that singed his arms. No longer capable of avoiding the demon’s blows, he trusted in Shalindra and Enna to defend him as he struck the creature again and again.

  Then Shalindra was beside him. Shining Moon accelerated towards the demon where it cracked its skin like a chisel against stone. Tormjere slashed across the wounded stump of its arm as it stumbled. Another blast of magical fire slammed into it from behind. Shalindra hammered it solidly in the chest, and the demon doubled over and collapsed sideways. Tormjere plunged his sword through its face, piercing its eye and travelling so deep into the massive skull that half his forearm went in with it. Planting his foot against its chest, he tore his arm, blade and all, from the side of the demon’s head.

  The demon sagged to the ground with a heavy thud. It reached feebly for them with its once mighty arm, but Tormjere batted it aside. The horrific wound in its face gushed a vile substance upon the earth, and its voice rasped like a message from the grave.

  “Our mistress has seen the prophecy you have not, Veluntrhu. Your death will signal our release, and all you know will be ours. When at last your soul is cast into the void, I shall be waiting for you.”

  Tormjere’s sword descended, extinguished the flame in its burning eyes forever, but he did not stop. He hacked another piece from its face. Then another.

  It is dead.

  It’s not dead enough.

  Tormjere sank to his knees, his sword slipping from fingers to numb to hold it. His head spun as the last of his strength melted from his limbs. With effort, he forced his vision to shift. The embers that flew from the demon blazed with life unlike anything he had ever known, and like a glutton at a feast he gorged upon them. He drew them into himself until he could contain no more and the overwhelming abundance of energy leaked from his pores. The world tilted of its own accord, and had he not been on his knees he surely would have collapsed.

  Nearby, Shalindra staggered against a tree as her stomach burned and twisted, sending bile to scorch her throat. Enna rushed to keep her upright.

  “I am fine,” she gasped, though her knees were as mud and her vision swam.

  Does it always feel that way?

  No. You get used to it, and that one was exceptional.

  Tormjere waited, allowing the dizziness to pass as his body recovered.

  His strength now restored, he pried open the stony outer skin before plunging his still shaking hands into the dense flesh beneath. He devoured a chunk of the steaming, black meat with gusto, relishing the squirming burn that flowed through his body.

  Do you still need it so badly?

  It will sustain me for days, and I will grow stronger.

  At what cost?

  I get to keep living.

  Tormjere became aware of the soldiers who were rejoining them, but he ignored their looks of horror. “In their world, a fresh kill like this would attract every demon for miles. They would gather like vultures, with the strongest taking what they wished and the rest of us feeding on scraps.”

  Honarch took a deep breath as he wiped a smattering of blood from his face. “You ate this every day?”

  “Maybe one day in ten.” Tormjere stood and offered a piece to Birion, who declined in an impolite manner. “You don’t feel hungry for a long time after eating it.”

  Enna wrinkled her nose. “Please tell me you are not going to bring any of it with us. The stench is already an affront to my senses.”

  “It turns putrid the moment it goes cold, and no form of preservation will keep it from making you sick.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick watching you eat it,” Honarch said.

  “Our men?” Shalindra asked Birion.

  “We lost almost half, my lady. The remaining injuries are survivable, but your attention would be appreciated.”

  “They will have it immediately.”

  Birion gazed at the grisly scene around them. “Any of our enemies still living when the demon appeared have likely expired or fled. I doubt we will find any answers.”

  Shalindra looked back at the dead demon and shook her head. “You are correct. Tonight has given us only more questions.” She whispered a prayer, and a soft light appeared at the end of a branch nearby. Enna did the same as Birion’s men began their search.

  The wounded hobbled or were carried to Shalindra, while the soldiers combed through the remains of the Ceringion camp, looking for survivors.

  Tormjere let his senses extend through the woods, his stomach now pleasantly full. Between the raw power of the demon and Shalindra’s efforts, he felt no ill effects from the battle. The pain he never forgot, and so he shoved it into the past where it belonged and turned to what came next. He cleaned his blade and joined Honarch in inspecting the wizard who had summoned the first demon.

  “Anyone you knew?” he asked.

  Honarch shook his head. “Mercifully not, though I wish it had not come to this. I cannot understand what rationale drives the Conclave’s thinking.”

  “Clearly there’s something they wish to gain.”

  “Almost certainly, but what? They supported Ceringion during the war, yet Actondel is not yet fully pacified. There’s nothing out here but the elves, who are of little threat to anyone.”

  “Maybe there’s something we don’t know.”

  “I just can’t see any purpose to it,” Honarch repeated as they moved to the second wizard. “Ugh, I hate searching dead people. No summoning pendant.”

  “That’s a welcome first.”

  “He did enough damage without it. I’d not be here without Enna.” He made a satisfied sound as he plucked a dohedron from one of the wizard’s pouches. “I’ll keep a watch on this and see if I can piece together any messages that come through, but without the—”

  An anguished cry caused them both to turn as Enna crumpled to her knees at the edge of a small wash. Shalindra reached her just before they did.

  The depression Enna stared at had been filled in a hasty manner with fresh earth. Bushes and rocks protruded through the dirt, but light reflected off the half-visible edge of a silver symbol matching those worn by both women.

  Tormjere slid into the wash and brushed aside a layer of dirt from atop the pile to reveal the remains of first one and then another elvish woman draped in the sleeveless white robes of Eluria. Enna sobbed helplessly as Shalindra put her arms around her.

  We must bury them properly.

  They won’t know the difference.

  Not for their sake, for Enna’s.

  * * *

  Tormjere sat and placed his back against a tree,
as quiet as everyone else around him.

  In total, they had reburied almost forty elvish bodies, all but a handful in white robes. Enna had collected their symbols and said the appropriate prayers for them, then withdrawn into herself. The Ceringion bodies and their own dead had been piled into a makeshift pyre, which Honarch had burned with magic. When it was done, they packed up what they could and resumed their trek without enthusiasm. The camp they now occupied was only a few miles south, but it could have been fifty for all the weariness they felt.

  Conversation happened in fits and starts and lacked any of the usual joy that follows a victory. He could not blame them. Their world had been altered by the previous night’s battle, and many struggled to reconcile the event with the natural order with which they were familiar. No one could deny the intelligence of the demon they had faced, but as Shalindra had said, they were left with far more questions than answers.

  Birion was the first to broach the subject. “Never did I think to see such creatures speak, but this time there was no denying it. Why do they hate you so fiercely, Tormjere? Did you kill that many of them?”

  “A few,” he replied, still staring at the fire. “But not enough to warrant this.”

  “The last demon wasn’t summoned by either wizard,” Honarch pointed out, “and it spoke of a prophecy centered around your death.”

  “Prophecies abound,” Tormjere said, “and we would all live happier lives without them.”

  “I would be the last to disagree,” Shalindra said, cutting off Enna’s defensive response, “but Honarch is correct regarding its means of arrival. Can demons travel to our world at will, without the command of a mage?”

  Honarch spread his hands. “I don’t think so, but I also don’t know enough to defend that opinion. It would seem logical that we would see far more of them if they had unfettered access to our world.”

  Shalindra looked at Tormjere, but he shook his head as well. “Before today, I had seen nothing to indicate that they were capable.”

  He let the group’s continued debate fade into the background as he sought his own answers. Wings, weapons, and magic. Not once had he faced a demon with all three. That would make it… he could not remember the rank, but it was far above what should have appeared here. And he had not been strong enough to defeat it. It had taken all four of them, and their success was by the slimmest of margins. That made it even more imperative that Shalindra attain the Guardian’s armor and whatever went with it. Hopefully, that would be enough.

  He saw Honarch excuse himself and move a short distance away, pulling out a book that had been taken from the dead wizards. Tormjere gave him a moment to get settled, then went to join him.

  “Find anything good?” he asked.

  “Not yet, but maybe you should take a look through as well.”

  “Magic is your providence.”

  “Indeed? The corkscrew was a nice touch on the flame spikes by the way. Just how much did you learn from those books you gave me?”

  “Enough to stay alive. I can’t do the larger explosions like you can.”

  “But you can create a portal, just as they did. And without the talisman that makes it possible.”

  Tormjere chuckled. “I thought everyone had forgotten that little trick. It’s not an uncommon talent for demons, and it was something my life depended on more than once. But there are limits, even for them. I can only make them to cross short distances that I can already see. It’s difficult to control, and there can be… unpleasant side effects when done wrong.”

  “I’ll stick to the more conventional methods of travel then,” Honarch said with a wave towards the horses. Tormjere caught a glint of metal on one of his fingers that had not been there earlier. “New ring?”

  Honarch nodded and held up hand. “It’s a talisman against blades and physical attacks. Our enemy no longer had a use for it.”

  “Didn’t help him much.”

  “Hopefully, it will prove more effective against lesser mortals,” Honarch said with a wry grin.

  Tormjere rolled his eyes. “I’m as mortal as you are, unfortunately.”

  “You do a good impression of someone who isn’t.” He fingered the ring thoughtfully. “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Get to that wizard so easily. I saw the protections he had in place. It should have provided at least some resistance to your attack.”

  Soft footsteps approached, and Tormjere looked up to see Enna standing above him.

  “I wish to ask a question of you,” she said.

  When he made no move to stand she added, “Alone, if you do not mind.”

  Tormjere left Honarch without an answer and followed Enna a few steps into the woods where they would not be overheard.

  “You should be dead.”

  “I’m rather happy that I’m not.”

  She placed her hand against his stomach, as if she could feel through the hastily stitched hole in his tunic where the demon’s sword hilt had impaled him. “It is because you healed yourself, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  He gently pulled away. “You really don’t want to know.”

  “I do, because it is not possible. For you to have found how it could be done…”

  “I didn’t discover anything you don’t already know. You told me once before: a vessel of water cannot be poured into itself.”

  “This is a universal truism, though there are ways for one being to augment another. But if that was not the case, where did you get…” Her eyes widened in horror as realization dawned on her. “You took something from the demon, didn’t you? When you cut off its hand?”

  “What I could. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me alive until Shalindra could heal me.”

  “Can you steal life from the living now?” She shuddered, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “I remember what that feels like, and it is a terrible thing to inflict upon another being.”

  “Not from the living,” Tormjere reassured her. “It only works with the dying.”

  “The demon was still alive.”

  “Its hand wasn’t. The stump of its arm wasn’t. But none of this is what you wished to ask me.”

  “I remember what you said about… about how elves taste to demons.” Enna drew her arms about herself, and shivered. “Do you… Do you think for those we found… Were they…?”

  “No. Their deaths were horrible, but they were not consumed by a demon.”

  She bit her lip and let her eyes thank him the way her voice could not.

  I mourn the loss of my Sisters, but my heart breaks for her tonight.

  We’ll reach Ildalarial soon, and she will find the peace she needs.

  Friends in the Forest

  They followed the road for another day, taking them along a south-westerly curve around and through the hills and valleys of the lower Aldantan Mountains. The thoroughfare was wide and the ground packed firm, and it often made detours around particularly large trees or changed course to follow the flow of a river. Enna had travelled this road between Ildalarial and Silvalaria only once, and while her memory of that visit to their northern neighbors was clouded by her youthful perceptions she did not recall the road being so desolate.

  They paused atop a small rise, and she made a sweeping motion with her arm to encompass all the lands before them. “The forests of Ildalarial.” Though a simple statement, it filled her with joy to realize how close she was to her home. “From here, it is but half a day to our northernmost town.”

  “Is this road always so empty?” Shalindra asked, echoing her own thoughts. “I would have expected to see someone on it by now.”

  “So would I. Ildalarial and Silvalaria lack the constant mingling that your kingdoms enjoy, but it is unusual to see the road completely barren.” They had surely passed dozens of tiny villages and homesteads, each situated away from the road as was customary, but as no one had come to greet them it would have been ina
ppropriate to seek them out.

  “Given our size, I doubt our passing has gone unnoticed,” Tormjere said. “I’m going to have a look ahead.”

  “I will accompany you,” Enna offered quickly. “Anyone we encounter may be more hospitable should they see another elf.” Tormjere was unquestionably the best scout they had but, regardless of his intentions, he did not always have the patience required for diplomacy. Few humans arrived from this direction, and her people were generally suspicious of uninvited guests.

  It was no surprise to her when he dismounted to proceed on foot, and she slid from her horse as well, hoping that her doubts had not been overly apparent.

  “We will follow at a slower pace,” Shalindra said, “so there is no misunderstanding as to our purpose. Try not to get too far ahead.”

  Thank Elurithlia, Shalindra always understood, and was equally cognizant of the rumored tensions between Ildalarial and the Kingdom of Actondel. Should so large a party of armed men approach, they could well be greeted by arrows instead of words.

  Tormjere motioned her forward with a half-smile as if he knew every thought that had just run through her mind. He probably did, somehow, which only made it more infuriating. Still, he never used his knowledge for his own gain, unlike others that she knew.

  She shook her head, annoyed now at herself. Others. Her mother, she meant. The most powerful and highest-ranking Sister of Elurithlia’s devotees.

  Enna kept quiet as they walked, letting Tormjere watch the woods as she struggled with the turmoil that admission released within her. Her mother was devout in her faith, even fanatical on some topics, and such fervor could make her unpredictable. Enna had no idea how she would react to Shalindra when they finally reached her.

  Tormjere held up a hand. “I think we’ve found them.”

  Enna stopped beside him. “I don’t see anything, but our Woodswardens are unlikely to announce their presence.”

  They waited only a short time before an elf in the usual greens and browns stepped onto the road and approached cautiously.