Melody gave the emperor a quick nod of thanks and searched for Silurian. She couldn’t see him anywhere. A series of roars, followed by higher pitched cries of agony sounded from the building across the street.
Karvus rolled to his feet, pulled his axe free of the first demon and assumed a battle stance. “Where is he?”
Melody pointed at what remained of the three-story building. “There.”
They ran toward the only ground level opening visible in the building’s façade, a doorway covered by a grimy sheet. Spears rained down from the upper stories.
The anguished whinnies of the horses stopped them in mid-step. The helpless animals flailed on the ground, impaled by wooden shafts.
“Follow me!” Karvus shouted and tore through the doorway, ripping the cover down.
Slipping into the opening behind him, Melody shrieked as a spear impacted the doorframe beside her head.
Muted sunlight shone through cracks in the wallboards and what remained of the collapsed roof timbers exposed through a missing section of the upper floors. Silurian crashed about somewhere ahead of them.
Karvus dodged around a section of the second floor that had fallen into the first.
Together they followed a trail of mangled bodies strewn along a hallway—a trail of death indicating Silurian’s route.
She hated when Silurian did this. Rook used to relate to her stories of Silurian going berserk while fighting with the Group of Five. Rook hadn’t been keen on it either. Whenever Silurian got the notion to fight, he did whatever it took to win the day.
A creature cried out in pain from above. Its dying body toppled through a hole in the second floor and hit the ground behind her, half of its head missing.
Melody’s eyes grew wide. She shouldn’t have looked back. Numerous red-eyed demons streamed down the hallway after them.
She faced the onrushing horde, intoning her spell slower, and more methodical. A fireball coalesced at the tip of her staff, increasing in size. The longer she chanted, the bigger the spell became.
The first creature leapt over the corpse of the demon that had fallen through the hole, hefting its trident to strike at her.
“Ignias pyro!” she emphatically completed her chant, barely hanging onto her staff as it recoiled in her hand. It had never done that before.
The strongest fireball she had ever conjured seared through half a dozen demons before impacting a wall and detonating, levelling any creature still alive.
The shockwave threw her backward and a loud groan shook the building. Past her fluttering robes, as she flew backward through the air, she watched the side walls of the corridor splintering outward with a mixture of awe and horror—the floorboards bucking beneath her. She landed in a heap, holding her hands up in a futile attempt to prevent a large section of the second floor from crashing down on her; the broken timbers ablaze with wizard’s fire.
Superhuman
“You’re not going to start blubbering again, are you?” Sadyra squeezed Pollard’s hand and gave him her sweetest smile.
He didn’t respond to her goading, but a faint smile crossed his lips.
Sadyra skipped and pulled him along behind her, bounding through the remains of the southeast gatehouse of The Forke. A contented grin dimpled her freckled cheeks.
Pollard had a long way to go to get back to his old self, but seeing his smile, however forced, was a small miracle. She would take the victory any way she could get it if it meant hope still remained.
“Och, The Forke,” Olmar said to anyone willing to listen. “Last time we’s through ‘ere we parted ways, eh, Pollard? You and that orange furred beastie and—”
Sadyra gave him a withering look. Leave it to Lunkhead to say something stupid. At least he’d returned to a former semblance of himself after his horrific fall—chatty, carefree and unthinking.
Burdened with grief, the wearisome trek up the Spine had seemed to take forever, but they made it up the mountain trail faster than any of them thought possible. Alone with their thoughts, they hadn’t noticed the grueling pace Sadyra had set for them.
Leaving the mountains behind, they had continued a fast march along Madrigail Walk for the past day and a half. Though the land was little more than frozen tundra, it felt a great deal better than enduring the bone-chilling cold of the mountain heights. Sadyra believed her teeth would never stop chattering.
Stepping across the barbican’s threshold, Pollard pulled his hand free and unsheathed his sword from over his shoulder.
Sadyra swallowed the sadness creeping into her. There was something about The Forke that moved her. She shook her head to push her feelings aside. Perhaps it was how the town had affected Pollard the last time they were through here. She needed to be strong for him. She let him take the lead and fell in step with Alhena, forcing herself to smile.
“Well, you old codger?” She ruffled his full head of hair, trying to mask her pain. “I see your hair is coming back nicely. You no longer look like death warmed over.”
Alhena leaned away from her hand and gave her a dirty look.
She laughed. She loved riling up the old man. There was nothing quite as satisfying as pulling the strings of a wizard. Not just an ordinary wizard, either, but the former Wizard of the North.
“I’m just funning you, Pop’s. You’re cute as ever.” She reached out to pinch his bearded cheek, but he stepped sideways, his scowl no less severe.
Larina brought up the rear, her bow in hand. She stopped to listen.
Sadyra caught the concern on her face. “Shh,” she said as loud as she dared. “Larina hears something.”
Olmar pulled his warhammer free and went to stand beside Larina. She held up a hand to keep him quiet and turned a slow circle, concentrating.
Sadyra couldn’t hear anything above the sound of The Frothe, gurgling unseen down a side road.
Pollard’s head whipped to the north. “I hear it. Someone’s fighting. This way.” He darted up an alleyway.
Sadyra pulled an arrow from her quiver and bolted after him, thankful she and Larina had come across those ash trees on their way up the Spine. Along with the feathers from a couple of geese they had killed on the way, they had restocked their quivers with homemade arrows. The armour-piercing tips would surely be missed but at least they could provide support for the melee fighters—they’d just have to make sure their shots were more accurate.
She didn’t have to look back to see if the others followed.
Cries of agony intermingled with growls of rage. The sound of crackling fire, muted though it was through the layer of debris pinning her, concerned Melody.
Though broken furniture had prevented the weight of the collapsed ceiling from crushing her, the tiny breathing space didn’t allow her to move anything other than her hands and feet without snagging on something sharp. She lay pinned on her back with her head facing over her left shoulder. She tried turning to examine her surroundings but splinters jabbed her cheeks, forcing her to keep her face pointed in one direction, jammed against a foul-smelling rug.
In the distance, Karvus yelled at something or someone, but she couldn’t make out his words.
Lying there, considering her options, her breath caught in her throat. Something trapped beneath the wreckage with her stirred, emitting a growl from the direction her face was turned. Not all of the demons had been killed in the explosion.
Her fingers tightened around her staff—the arm in question pinned behind her, away from her line of vision. If the demon came at her, she wouldn’t be able to hit it—not without hitting herself first.
Silurian’s voice roared from the same direction Karvus’ had. Given her dire situation, the thought of the two of them fighting together filled her with a strange contentment. Together, they would prove a fearsome duo.
She thought about calling for help, but she was afraid to alert whatever lay buried down here to her location. If it wasn’t aware of her already.
She pushed up with her hips and c
hest but it was no use—the section of ceiling too heavy for her to move.
The muted growl sounded again. Clearer. Closer.
Panic trickled into her and rose quickly. She fought the urge to scream. From the sound of her companions’ distant voices, even if they were looking for her, they’d never find her in time. Her only hope was that the demon didn’t know of her presence. With any luck, it was just trying to free itself from the wreckage.
An explosion shook the debris, sending shock waves through her. Her eyes grew wide, fully expecting the ceiling to shift and crush her. After a few moments she dared to breathe again.
She searched the darkness in futility, struggling with the significance of the blast. That could only mean one thing. Another magic user had joined the battle. Or a wraith. Or worse.
She pushed up again, trying to wriggle her body one way and then the other. Straining, a high-pitched grunt escaped her lips, and she froze.
The demon growled. Closer than before. It approached from the direction her eyes lay. The ceiling trembled on top of her.
She heard the distinct ‘thwap’ of an arrow striking a target close by, immediately followed by the yelp of an injured demon. Another ‘thwap’ and another screech.
That didn’t make sense. Neither Silurian nor Karvus carried ranged weapons. Whoever it was, hopefully they had killed the demon stalking her.
The ceiling pressed down. At first, she thought it had shifted, about to crush her, but it hadn’t. It undulated. A thumping pressure pushed down on her and then let off, pushed down and let off, coinciding with the sound of wood being torn apart.
Her blood froze in her veins. A deep growl sounded almost on top of her. The ceiling shook—the vibrations punctuated by loud crashing. Something broke through the wooden structure, over and over again; the thumping closing on her with each terrifying shake.
Her staff flared in her fingers but she didn’t know where to direct the fireball. Anything she conjured would either bring the entire weight of the ceiling down on top of her or engulf the area with fire, and burn herself alive. If she used a freezing spell would surely kill herself. Her cloak wasn’t designed to repel cold magic.
She swallowed her mounting terror, employing the calming techniques Phazarus had taught her. She hadn’t thought about those long, boring lessons since leaving the safety of Dragon’s Tooth. She smiled inwardly. Perhaps the old wizard’s lessons were useful after all. She wished she had listened when she had the chance.
The growl sounded right next to her. The light radiating from her powered staff barely penetrated beyond her body, but it was enough to shine on a set of baleful, red eyes staring straight at her. She could just make out the demon’s slathering fangs gnashing together in what she perceived was anticipation.
She closed her eyes and discharged her staff, not caring if the fireball went through her to reach the demon.
Larina kept an eye on Olmar hefting his mighty hammer around for another swing at the backside of a demon that tearing through the floorboards—its head hidden from view. The beast was ripping through the collapsed second story digging for something and Olmar was chasing after it.
He swung at the demon several times, never quite connecting with the creature’s frenetic passage.
Other demons jumped at Olmar from what remained of the of the floors above but he paid them no mind, trusting his life to Sadyra and Larina as their arrows found mark after mark.
A demon slipped through their barrage and landed on his back, its claws raking into his thick leather armour. Larina’s arrow sent it flying before it had a chance to tear his throat out.
The demon Olmar chased suddenly stopped. His awkward gait nearly had him tripping over the scrabbling creature. His warhammer whooshed high through the air, the weapon’s head heavier than a finishing anvil, and thundered into the floorboards just beyond where the demon’s neck disappeared.
Wood splintered. The demon shrieked, and the floor exploded in Olmar’s face, showering him in a blast of splinters and fire.
Larina gaped, her notched arrow slipping down her bow.
Olmar lost his grip on his weapon and flew backward, landing in a heap amongst the debris. His warhammer arced high overhead, crashing dangerously close beside him.
Larina hopped from one fallen timber to the next, her movements catlike; wary of the diminishing flames lapping at the previously burnt wood.
A demon flew at her from above.
She caught its movement out of the corner of her eye, but the creature suffered one of Sadyra’s well-timed arrows and fell harmlessly in front of her.
Larina glanced back at her freckled friend. Sadyra’s grim face twitched a small smile before she looked away, tracking another creature.
Thank the gods, Olmar’s eyes were open and full of wonder as they locked on Larina. His bushy beard and thick eyebrows were shrivelled by the flaming blast, his worn leather sailor’s cap lay crumpled on a block of scorched furniture.
“What did you do?” Larina asked, searching him for injuries.
“Och, lassie. Ain’t be knowin’ me own power.” A great smile split his blackened face.
Larina gave him a derisive frown. “Hit a volcano vent, more like. You alright? You can’t remain here lollygagging about.”
He pulled himself stiffly from the rubble, a pained expression on his face. “Just takin’ in me tactics from a unique vantage point.”
Larina snatched his cap and tossed it to him, Olmar’s grimace not lost on her. She shook her head. “I’ll give you a unique vantage point.”
“Where’s me ‘ammer?”
She pointed to it but didn’t attempt to retrieve it for him. “You might want to hang on to it.”
Notching an arrow, she sighted a demon bounding across the upper level, intent on something it wouldn’t reach.
Another demon dropped screeching from above, an arrow lodged in its thigh.
Larina ducked to avoid its path but Olmar’s warhammer intercepted the creature before it hit the ground. Bones shattered as the demon’s body bent around his hammerhead and catapulted away from her, dead before it hit the ground.
“Where’s Pops an’ Pollard?”
Sadyra straightened from her crouch atop a pile of debris, her ever vigilant eyes darting everywhere at once, tracking would-be targets. She pointed at something Larina couldn’t see beyond the remains of the second story.
“Pops is on the ground behind us. Pollard’s coming this way. He and two others.”
“Two others?”
Sadyra’s eyes narrowed. She jumped to a higher vantage point, dropped to a knee and notched an arrow. She snarled, “A Kraidic whoreson and another swordsm…” Her voice trailed off, the notched arrow slipping from her fingers.
“What is it? You look to be seein’ a ghostie.” Olmar stretched higher, craning his head to get a better angle. His mouth dropped open. “As sure as I’m the whelp of a tart, it cannae be.”
Pollard’s voice reached them, the happiness in its lilt plain to hear. “Lower your bow, Sadie. It’s Silurian! He’s come back to us!”
Two demons popped out of a hole beside Pollard but before the big man had a chance to react, the Kraidic warrior lopped the head off the nearest one while Silurian stabbed the second in the face with the tip of his glowing sword.
Pollard wrapped his sword arm around Silurian’s neck, almost lifting him from his feet. “I ought to strangle you. You know how much I’ve missed you?”
Silurian extracted himself, the look on his face less than happy. “My sister? Has anyone seen her? She was back here the last we saw her.”
Sister? Larina had no idea what he was talking about. She had heard so much about Silurian from Sadyra and the others, but she’d never met him before.
A muffled voice sounded beside Larina. “I’m under here.”
Larina jumped, an arrow loaded before she realized there was no one in her immediate area other than Olmar.
“I’m trapped under the ceilin
g.”
Under the ceiling? Her eyes were drawn to a gaping hole beyond the spot where Olmar had smote the demon under the floorboards. She approached it warily.
An orange glow illuminated the darkness. All Larina could see were delicate fingers wrapped around a wooden staff. She dropped to all fours and poked her head into the hole, half expecting to have her face ripped off, but what she saw left her breathless.
A blonde-haired woman draped in dark robes lay with her head turned away from her, clearly trapped by the weight of the wood.
Olmar clumped along the collapsed floor to join her.
“What are you doing, Lunkhead? You want to flatten her? Get off!”
Olmar froze, a puzzled look twisting his features.
“There’s a woman trapped under here.”
The man named Silurian looked down at them from the edge of what remained of the second story. “You see her? Is she all right? Mel!”
“She’s alive,” Larina answered. She poked her head in the hole again. “Are you Mel?”
“Yes.”
“Yep, she’s down here.” Larina bent into the hole again. “Are you hurt?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t move.”
“Hang on. I know someone who might be able to help.” Larina stood up. “Pollard, get down here.”
She nodded at Olmar. “I need you and the lummox to lift the floor. Get yourself in that hole you made.”
Larina waited for Pollard to find his way down but the giant sized up a landing spot and jumped. She cringed when his weight shook the floor. Men!
“Here, can you get in this hole?” Larina stepped aside and pointed. “Watch out for her arm.”
Two more thumps announced Silurian and the Kraidic warrior.
She kept a wary eye on the evil looking man with the red beard. What was Silurian doing with his sort? Didn’t he know the Kraidic Empire had aligned itself with Helleden?
“You two need to get off this section. Olmar and Pollard are going to try to lift it.”
Silurian and the Kraidic warrior did as they were asked. Silurian looked on with concern while the red-bearded hulk watched with skepticism written on his face. It was a large area of floor.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 96