Destroyer of Legends

by Clayton Wood

Chapter 19

  Dio dodged out of the way of the black-armored beast’s clumsy attacks, punishing it with a string of blows from his staff. He turned back toward the Original, sprinting toward the boy. The girl – Sukri – tried to get in-between them, and Dio shoved her to one side.

  And then felt something ram him from behind right as he did so.

  Dio stumbled, shoving Sukri far harder than he’d planned, and watched as she careened toward the edge of the bridge. He managed to keep his balance, seeing the Original dive for her, grabbing her by the ankle…and sliding right off the edge of the bridge with her. Dio lunged toward them, but it was too late.

  They were gone.

  He heard the thumping of the black beast’s footsteps behind him, and spun around, whipping his staff at its head, snapping it to the side. Then he followed that with a string of blows so quick that the creature struggled to block even half of them with its four arms.

  Dio finished with a vicious chop down on top of the thing’s head, stunning it for a moment. Then he turned to look over the edge of the bridge.

  The Original was gliding gently over the canyon, the girl dangling below him. Dio grimaced, feeling a flash of irritation. He’d never failed Mother before.

  She would not be pleased.

  He heard the beast coming for him, and sent the thing reeling with a vicious combination of blows, targeting areas with thinner armor. Fingers, toes. Its face and eyes. To its credit, it managed to block many of the blows, but Dio still managed to lop off a few more fingers.

  It was slow. Slow mind, slow body. Just like everyone else.

  The creature roared, charging at Dio, who dodged to the side easily, swinging his staff in a powerful arc at the back of its knees. It bounced off, but the armor there cracked; Dio followed up with another three attacks, the armor sinking in under the force of his blows. The last strike bit into its flesh, blood spurting from the wound.

  No mobility, no chance.

  The beast emitted a low growl, limping away from Dio. It circled around him, then lunged at him again, its four arms out wide to grab him. Dio ducked into a roll, evading the thing’s grasp and swinging at the back of its knees again. His staff bounced off the thing’s armor.

  Which was intact.

  Dio backed away, staring at the creature’s legs. Its armor there was pristine, the wound he’d created earlier gone. Vanished.

  The beast turned to face him, its black eyes glittering in the sunlight. Dio studied it, noting its fingers. The one’s he’d cut off earlier.

  They too were intact.

  How?

  The creature leapt at him again, and Dio dodged, raining another devastating series of attacks upon it. This time he focused on its face, striking it again and again, then going after its legs when it tried blocking its face with its hands. It stumbled backward, and his staff was a blur as blow after blow struck true, chipping away at the thing’s armor. Black fingers fell to the floor, blood dripping from its forearms where his staff managed to crack its armor.

  Dio followed with a vicious jumping back-kick right to its chest, sending it stumbling backward. It fell, landing on its back…and he leapt right on top of it, chopping down at its face with his staff. The cruel edge of its blade sank into its face with a crunch, splitting it in two.

  The creature roared, grabbing Dio’s staff and tearing it from his hands. Or at least it tried to; Dio moved with the staff, keeping his grip on it. He stomped on the beast’s ruined face then, over and over, until it let go of his weapon.

  It rolled onto its side, then onto its belly, rising to its feet.

  And as Dio watched – before the Seeker’s very eyes – the wounds knitted together, the creature’s flesh becoming whole once more. Fresh armor grew underneath, pushing the broken pieces outward like a molting snake shedding its skin. Even its fingers grew back.

  Within seconds, it was whole again.

  Dio backed away, a chill running through him. A feeling he hadn’t felt in years came to him then. One he hated in others, and even more so in himself.

  Doubt.

  He circled the beast slowly, twirling his staff. The monster didn’t attack, only rotating to face him as he circled. Dio glanced at the edge of the bridge, circling until it was right behind the creature.

  Then he burst forward, his staff a blur as he attacked.

  The beast curled its arms inward, blocking the rain of blows, its armor cracking under the barrage. Still Dio pressed forward, pushing the beast toward the edge of the bridge. Toward the sheer drop hundreds of feet below.

  But it dodged to the side suddenly, backing away from the edge, toward the end of the bridge opposite the Kingdom of the Deep. The beast was clearly intelligent. And its armor had already repaired itself.

  He lunged at it again, driving it backward, trying to force it to the left to push it toward the edge. But it corrected course each time, absorbing each attack, no longer even attempting to attack now.

  It’s tiring me, he realized.

  And he was tiring. He had stamina many times that of an ordinary man, but even he had his limits. The beast was wearing him down, waiting for him to make a mistake. It could take anything he threw at it, and it knew it.

  Dio swung his staff in a wide arc, smashing it against the thing’s temple…then turned and bolted toward the Kingdom of the Deep.

  He heard rhythmic grunting behind him, and turned to see the beast barreling toward him, running with shocking speed…and closing the distance between them rapidly.

  Dio skid to a halt, turning and whipping his staff at the creature’s skull. It blocked the blow with one arm, lunging at him. He ducked under its arms, turning toward the Kingdom again, but the beast caught up to him, shoving him from behind. Dio fell into a quick somersault, leaping to his feet and reversing direction, ducking under the beast’s arms and running across the bridge in the opposite direction.

  The beast followed tirelessly, running after him, closing in fast.

  It was then that Dio realized there was no running from this thing. He couldn’t kill it. It was a juggernaut, an unstoppable force.

  And it was going to kill him very soon now.

  Unless…

  He made the decision instantly, never faltering, never doubting. There was no fear.

  Dio swerved to the left, running right to the edge of the bridge, and jumped.

  Chapter 20

  The air in Camilla’s underground cipher room was cool and moist, a consequence of the water constantly flowing into and out of it. For a cipher room was designed to stop traits from powerful artifacts and Ossae from spreading. This was usually accomplished by setting artifacts on pedestals protruding from a pool of constantly flowing water. The water absorbed any radiated traits, carrying them away quickly…and preventing contamination of the surrounding area. This cipher room was underground, so it would remain hidden, and was not connected to the mansion. Having to carry powerful artifacts through her home would risk contaminating the building…a risk Camilla dared not take. It was not nearly as large as Dominus’s cipher room, only seven meters squared. Water poured down each of its four stone walls, flowing into a pool several feet deep that formed the floor of the room. Stone pillars rose up from the bottom of the pool to protrude a half-meter from the water, forming stepping stones across the pool to a central, raised platform four meters squared.

  And on this sat a wooden table upon which laid the corpse of one of the black creatures that had attacked Dominus, its dead eyes staring at the ceiling above.

  Camilla stepped across the stepping stones toward it, dressed in a special full-body suit made of alternating layers of woody fibers and cloth. A disposable suit that would protect her from short-term exposure to another’s traits. Dominus had been given a similar suit, and followed behind her, stopping beside the table.

  “Tell me Dominus, what do you think of this?” Camilla inquired.

  Dominus studied the creature. It was little over a meter in length, with long
arms terminating in what looked to be a cross between a paw and a hand. It had a long torso and legs, its thick hide midnight black. What little fur it had sprang haphazardly from patches on its chest and back.

  But its face was mostly human.

  “Likely an animal exposed to a strong-willed human,” he deduced. The creatures had varied in size and the details of their fur and limbs, but all had shared identical humanoid traits. But the black skin was odd; it was not the chocolate brown of the Original’s skin, but rather pure black. A skin tone not found in people…supposedly.

  “Agreed,” Camilla replied. She stared at the thing’s face for a long time, and Dominus frowned at her. She seemed distracted.

  “What is it?” he asked. She glanced up at him.

  “Hmm?”

  “What are you hiding?” he demanded. She gave a rueful smirk.

  “Ever the observant one,” she murmured. “You’re a dangerously clever man.”

  “I’m only a danger to my enemies.”

  “Mmm, yes,” Camilla replied. She turned back to the beast. “You of course have heard the story of the founding of Tykus?”

  Dominus didn’t bother answering.

  “When Tykus came through the Gate to this world, he believed it to be Svartálfaheimr, the world of the Svartálfar.”

  “The dark elves, yes,” Dominus replied impatiently.

  “Well, the Elders of the Kingdom of the Deep have records that go back to that time period. They tell a story of a devil they call Hobbomock, an evil creature that created an army in his image. An army of black-skinned monsters that ravaged the world.”

  “The dark elves,” Dominus repeated.

  “Yes. They say Hobbomock was actually human once, a man with a powerful spirit…a Legend. He conquered many peoples, coming to rule the kingdom upon whose ruins Tykus was built. But Hobbomock was greedy, and went to the Deep to increase his power. It is there that he became a devil…one with enormous power, but with a hunger that could never be sated.”

  She swallowed visibly, her eyes glued to the creature’s sunken eye-sockets.

  “Hobbomock’s power was his curse, and it spread to every living thing he touched. An army of dark elves was created, and their hunger nearly devoured this world. That hunger killed Hobbomock, decimated his empire, and nearly destroyed the Kingdom of the Deep.”

  She hesitated then, taking a deep breath in. Her face was deathly pale, he realized, beads of sweat glittering on her forehead despite the cool air. Dominus turned to the beast, staring into its sunken eyes. A chill ran through him.

  “You mean Zagamar,” he stated grimly. “Hobbomock is Zagamar.”

  “That is what I believe,” she admitted. “And the dark elves were the creatures exposed to Zagamar’s will. Hunter…the Original…described a terrible hunger that overwhelmed him when he went into the Crypt.”

  “From Zagamar’s will.”

  “Correct,” she replied. “Which lends evidence to my conclusion. And if Zeno went into the Crypt and consumed Zagamar’s flesh…”

  “Then these creatures…” Dominus muttered, swallowing in a suddenly dry throat.

  And then the beast’s eyes snapped open, and it lunged at Camilla!

  Camilla tried to duck out of the way, but the beast slammed into her, throwing her backward into the pool. Then it turned to Dominus, its sunken eyes narrowing. Dominus’s sword was already in his hands, held out before him.

  The creature’s neck veins pulsed rapidly, its eyes flicking from Dominus’s sword to the exit of the cipher room. Camilla swam toward the exit, pulling herself onto one of the stepstone-like pillars.

  The beast growled, then leapt over Dominus’s head, landing behind him…and bounding over the stepstones after Camilla!

  Dominus chased after the creature, slashing at its back. Blood sprayed from the wound, and it spun on him, lashing out with a flurry of attacks with its vicious claws. It moved incredibly fast – faster than anyone Dominus had ever seen – and even his incredible reflexes had difficulty defending against them. The beast managed to rake him across the face, and he swore, stumbling backward.

  Then it pounced on him, throwing him onto his back on the stone floor.

  Dominus tried to thrust his sword upward into the thing’s belly, but it pinned his arm to the floor, ripping the sword from his hands and tossing it backward. He grabbed its neck, squeezing as hard as he could. It went wild, raking its claws madly across his face, chest and belly, ripping hunks of flesh out of Dominus.

  The pain was excruciating.

  Blood spurted from Dominus’s wounds, the creature digging madly into Dominus’s chest. Its claws cut through his muscle and met bone, grating against his ribs.

  Still Dominus squeezed, pushing his thumbs up into its windpipe, trying to crush it.

  And then it jerked forward, a silver blade bursting through its chest and burying itself into Dominus’s breastbone.

  The beast went still, slumping on top of Dominus.

  Dominus groaned, trying to roll the beast off of him, but his arms wouldn’t work properly. He looked past the monster, seeing Camilla standing over them, his sword in her hands. She pulled the weapon free, then rolled the beast off of him.

  He looked down, seeing his own rib cage exposed, the muscles of his chest utterly destroyed. Nausea threatened to overcome him, and he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the stone below.

  “Dominus, are…oh,” Camilla gasped, putting a hand to her mouth. She knelt down, staring at his gruesome wounds. “Can you…?”

  “I’ll heal,” Dominus replied. “Eventually.” He opened his eyes, giving her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” she countered. “It was going after me before you stopped it. It would’ve killed me.”

  “I know.”

  “You could have let it,” Camilla noted. “And taken my mansion. No one would have been able to stop you.”

  “I know,” he repeated.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Dominus sighed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt woozy from all the blood he’d lost. His mind was almost certainly not working correctly. But for the moment, he didn’t care.

  “I don’t have anyone anymore,” he admitted. She didn’t respond, and he swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Everything I had is gone,” he continued. “My son. My title. My castle. My…”

  He choked on the word, suddenly hating himself for baring his soul.

  “Your what?” Camilla pressed gently.

  “My wife.”

  “Right,” Camilla murmured. “She died in the fire.”

  Dominus nodded. Of course she’d heard the story…the version everyone else knew. But only he knew the full story.

  He closed his eyes, seeing a small boy holding a broken lantern, cheeks wet with tears.

  Just a mistake, Conlan. It’s not your fault.

  He pushed the thought away, opening his eyes. It was pointless to obsess about the past. A moment of weakness he would not allow again.

  “I can’t move my arms.”

  “I’ll send for help,” Camilla promised. She stood then, walking back toward the entrance.

  “Camilla,” Dominus called out after her. She turned to face him. “You could kill me now if you wanted to.”

  She paused, then gave him one of her maddening smiles.

  “Now why would I go and do a thing like that?” she inquired. “I’m far from done with you, Dominus…former Duke of Wexford.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” he asked bluntly. The words came out slurred, and he felt even dizzier now.

  Camilla walked back up to him, kneeling down and putting a hand on his cheek.

  “I’m going to use you, Dominus,” she answered. Her lips curled into a smirk. “And you’re going to like it.”

  She stood then, walking to the exit.

  “Wait!” he called out after her.

  “Yes?”

  “Cut off the beast’s head,” he advis
ed. “And burn the body…make the fire hot. Scatter the ashes.”

  “As you wish, my Duke,” Camilla replied, giving a slight curtesy.

  And then she vanished beyond the exit, leaving Dominus lying on the cool stone floor, in a pool of his own blood.

  * * *

  Hunter and Sukri walked side-by-side through the forest, fallen leaves and twigs crunching under their feet with each step. They’d left the clearing Hunter had landed in a few minutes ago, after he’d finished emptying the contents of his stomach. They’d followed the river upstream, hoping to get back to the bridge – and Xerxes – but the way was blocked by steep cliffsides. They’d been forced to go around. Way around. And there was no guarantee how far around they’d have to go before they reached a path that would lead to the Kingdom of the Deep…or if it was even possible from here.

  “You sure your brother’s gonna be okay?” Sukri asked.

  “He’s fine, trust me,” Hunter reassured. “He’s invincible.”

  “Except he isn’t,” Sukri retorted. “Dio cut his fingers off.”

  “That’s nothing. Xerxes regenerates. Vi cut his head off and he just grew another one.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yup.”

  “Well shit,” Sukri mumbled. She glanced at him as they walked. “Still can’t believe you flew like that,” she admitted. “Thanks again for saving me, by the way.”

  “This make up for when I pushed you out the window?” he inquired. Sukri gave him a look.

  “Yeah, about that,” she grumbled. “What was with you then, anyway?”

  “Long story,” he replied. He gave a brief recap of his journey to the Crypt of Zagamar, and what’d happened to him there. And how Vi had taught him to unleash Zagamar to enhance his fighting skills.

  “Damn, Hunter,” Sukri replied when he’d finished. “You’re an even bigger mess than I am.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “So you…unleashed Zagamar when you fought Dio?” she asked. He nodded. “Thought you’d learned to fight like that from Vi,” she admitted. “That was damn impressive. Fucking amazing, actually.”