by Clayton Wood
“Dio!” she cried. “Come on!”
“Go!” he shouted back. The Svartálfar were gaining on him, galloping like animals…and closing the distance between them rapidly. The Seekers were bringing more horses out from the stables, but stopped to face the oncoming horde, rushing in front of Camilla to protect her.
One of the guards stayed back, retrieving an unlit lantern from one of the stables. He lit it, then spilled its oil onto the roof. Fire spread across it, licking at the oil greedily.
“Set the mansion on fire!” he cried, rushing to another stable. “We burn or become beasts!”
The Svartálfar reached Dio, lunging at him…and Dio spun around, his staff moving so quickly it was impossible to follow. Beast after beast fell to his weapon, but for every one that fell, two more took their place. They formed a “U” around him, a few rushing past to attack the Seekers as they helped pour more oil on the roof. Black smoke rose from the flames, the fire spreading beyond the oil, consuming the roof itself.
“Dio!” Camilla cried.
And then a Svartálfar ran around Dio, leaping at her horse and ramming it in the side. The horse toppled over, tossing Camilla from the saddle, her sword flying from her hands.
She landed on the hard wooden roof, rolling to a stop on her back.
Camilla scrambled to her feet, and the Svartálfar leapt over her horse, crashing into her. The impact threw her backward into the wall of the stable behind her, and she ricocheted off, stumbling forward. The Svartálfar slashed at her with its wicked claws, raking at her corset. The thick leather repelled the attack, but the creature raked at her face with its other hand.
And flew to the side in a spray of blood right before it struck her.
She saw one of her Seekers standing before her, his scimitar dripping with blood.
“My…” he began…then was yanked backward, two more Svartálfar pulling him to the floor and raking at his face and chest. His uniform tore under the onslaught, claws ripping through his flesh, mutilating it.
His screams filled the air, and then were abruptly cut off as one of the monsters gripped his windpipe, tearing it from his neck.
Camilla spotted the doomed Seeker’s scimitar on the floor, and grabbed it, turning left and breaking out into a run toward one of the other stables. But a wall of fire blocked her way…and a sea of Svartálfar were rushing toward her from directly ahead.
She spotted Dio backing away toward her, nearly surrounded by Svartálfar, barely holding them back with his whirling staff.
And then a dark shape burst through the wall of fire, leaping right at her!
Camilla backpedaled, then realized it was a flying horse, one of her Seekers sitting atop it. He dismounted, running up to her and picking her up bodily, lifting her into the saddle. He strapped her in tightly.
“Yah!” he shouted, then slapped the horse’s hindquarter. The steed bolted forward, breaking out into an all-out gallop toward the edge of the roof ahead. Camilla grabbed the reins, pulling back on them as hard as she could, trying to stop the beast.
Dio!
But the horse wouldn’t obey her. It went right for the edge of the roof, and leapt off, spreading its huge wings wide.
Camilla felt the horse lurch downward suddenly. Arms encircled her from behind, gripping her waist tightly.
Arms covered in black and red leather.
She twisted around, seeing Dio straddling the horse behind her, the roof of the mansion burning behind him as her winged steed flew away, gaining altitude as it went. Her body went limp, relief coursing through her.
“Oh thank god,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “Thank god.”
Then she opened her eyes, watching as her home burned, flames engulfing the roof and the Svartálfar atop it…and her Seekers. The poor men leapt from the rooftop, their bodies ablaze, falling five stories to the burning lawn below.
She turned away from the gruesome sight, focusing forward, at the vast expanse of wilderness ahead. Dio squeezed her waist from behind, saying nothing.
But from him, that one act said enough.
* * *
The smell of smoke lay thick in the air, the roaring of the fire engulfing the Lady’s mansion only ten meters from where Jeb lay. Bodies surrounded him, his fellow guards torn to pieces by the black devils that had overrun the place. He’d feigned death, laying on his belly amongst his fallen comrades, spattered with their blood.
Jeb cracked one eye open, seeing the black creatures not twenty meters from where he lay. Swarming the Lady’s great serpent, that invincible creature from the Kingdom of the Deep. It’d killed countless of the black beasts, yet still they came at it, climbing onto its back and covering its entire length. The huge serpent thrashed wildly, knocking some of them off…but more took their place.
The serpent was tiring.
Jeb grimaced at the heat radiating from the burning mansion, the exposed side of his face burning from it. He had the sudden urge to sneeze, and stifled it desperately, knowing that if he didn’t, he would soon be dead.
Minutes passed, the serpent moving more and more slowly, until at last it lay still, panting, its long, forked tongue visible inside of its huge open maw.
Something came into Jeb’s field of vision then. A tall, shadowy figure standing between Jeb and the serpent. It looked like one of the other creatures, but was taller, and almost completely human, save for its black skin and unusually long limbs.
It stared at the serpent, then strode up to one of the corpses of the guards, kneeling down and taking something from it.
A belt.
The figure wrapped the belt around its own left arm, cinching it tightly. One of the other beasts ran up to the figure, pulling its left arm taut…while another grabbed a longsword from the corpse, stepping up to the figure.
The beast raised the sword up high over its head, and brought it down right on the tall figure’s forearm.
The tall figure grunted, blood oozing from the stump of its left arm. It signaled with its remaining hand, and the beast that was still holding its severed arm turned toward the serpent, clutching the limb to its chest and sprinting toward the huge snake…and leaping right into its mouth.
The beasts that had been holding its head down scattered.
The great serpent’s head rose up, its jaws slamming shut. A muted shriek came from inside of it, followed by silence.
Jeb felt the urge to sneeze again, the air so thick with smoke now that it was almost impossible to breathe. He fought it desperately, but this time he could not stave it off.
He sneezed, the sound bursting from his nose.
The tall figure with the severed arm turned its head toward him, and Jeb closed his eyes, holding his breath and staying as still as possible.
Footsteps approached, coming right up to his head.
Jeb lay there, utterly still, waiting for the inevitable. For the sharp pain of steel sliding into his back. For claws to rake at his face, tearing out his eyes.
Make it quick.
His lungs began to burn, the urge to take a breath in becoming more and more urgent. He fought it, the raspy, quick breathing of the creature standing before him all the reminder he needed of the consequences of doing so.
He felt something hot and wet drip onto his cheek, and resisted the urge to flinch.
The sound of footsteps returned, but this time they were moving away from him. Jeb cracked one eye open, seeing the dark figure walking away, back toward the serpent. The hot fluid on his cheek dripped down the side of his face, to the corner of his mouth.
It tasted like blood.
His stomach growled loudly, and he grimaced, afraid that one of the beasts might hear it. But they paid him no mind, forming a circle around the tall figure instead. They began to chant, their voices rough and barely intelligible, some little more than garbled shouts. But these voices called out in unison, even as the beasts bowed down low, their foreheads touching the ground.
“Za-ga-mar, Za-ga-mar!”
His stomach growled again, hunger seizing him, the chanting continuing over and over. It grew louder, more insistent, filling the air. Filling his mind.
A vision of burnt-out buildings came to him, a town utterly demolished. Of men surrounding him, chanting just as these creatures were.
Za-ga-mar!
He licked his lips, tasting more of the blood. He swallowed it, suddenly eager for more. Desperate for more.
Za-ga-mar!
The voices from his visions melded with the chanting of the beasts, and he lay there, watching as the creatures stood, lifting their arms in the air. As their chanting got louder and faster.
And the lone figure stood there, in the center of it all, blood dripping from the stump of its left forearm. Stood there as these creatures – these abominations – called its name.
Chapter 37
Hunter stood before the pool that surrounded his mother’s island, the ever-flowing water insulating the cavern from her indomitable will. Xerxes, Vi, Sukri, and Tykus were there, and Neesha herself stood in the middle of the pool, the blue tendrils of her hair and vein-like structures traveling down her limbs making the water around her glow brightly.
“We’re all here,” Vi stated. “What’s this big problem, Hunter?”
“When I went to Lady Camilla’s, she went over the locations of the Svartálfar,” Hunter explained. “Camilla asked me to summon the Zagamar within me so we could try to anticipate what his next moves would be.”
“A good idea,” Vi admitted. “But wouldn’t he avoid letting you know anything that could work against him?”
“He tried,” Hunter agreed. “But he couldn’t stop his thoughts when he looked at Camilla’s map, any more than we can stop thinking about a pink elephant once we’re told not to.”
“Actually, that’s not hard for us at all,” Vi countered. “Considering we have no idea what an elephant is.”
“A large creature with loose gray skin and an exceedingly long nose,” Tykus answered. “I heard of them when I was growing up, but never saw one.”
“So why would you ask us to think of a pink one?” Vi asked.
“That’s not the point,” Hunter grumbled. “The point is, he figured out what he’d do, and I know it now.”
“Go on,” Neesha encouraged.
“The details are still fuzzy for me, but from what I can tell, he was completely human once. Incredibly smart, smarter than anyone he’d ever met. He went to the Deep and fused with…something. Something that increased his metabolism, made him think faster, move faster.”
“The Kingdom of the Deep’s Elders confirm that he did,” Tykus agreed.
“This gave him a lot more power,” Hunter continued, “…but cursed him too. He was always hungry, having to eat constantly to feed his metabolism. And he aged more quickly than he’d expected to,” Hunter added. “Anticipating his death, he created his crypt a few years before he died, and placed an amulet with part of his will outside of his tomb. All with one goal in mind.”
“And that was?” Vi asked.
“He wanted to be reincarnated,” Hunter stated, ignoring her. “But he knew that if he was reincarnated, he’d only live a short time before getting old and dying again. So he made sure that his medallion would impart his will enough that anyone exposed to it would be smart enough to wait until they’d solved that problem before resurrecting him.”
“Xerxes’ head,” Tykus realized, nodding to himself. “It makes sense.”
“Right,” Hunter agreed. “Zagamar knew that if he had the ability to regenerate, he could live forever.”
“And so far he’s succeeded,” Neesha noted.
“Oh it gets worse,” Hunter warned. “Much worse. Zagamar can regenerate now, which means every time he does, the flesh he regenerates is Legendary.”
They heard a sharp intake of breath, and glanced at Tykus, whose face had paled.
“Anyone who consumes his flesh will incorporate it into their bodies and gain a portion of his Legendary abilities,” the man stated. “Which means…”
“That Zagamar can feed his flesh to his Svartálfar,” Hunter concluded, “…and then they can go out and create more Svartálfar, just like he can.”
“So you’re saying there’s more than one Zagamar out there?” Sukri blurted out.
“Not quite,” Hunter corrected. “Zagamar wouldn’t allow anyone else to become as powerful as him. He’d probably have a few generals drink his blood, getting a small portion of his Legendary power. Most of the Svartálfar are only partially changed into Zagamar for a reason…to prevent any of them from being able to challenge the one true Zagamar.”
“So none of them can regenerate, think, or move like him?”
“Unlikely,” Hunter agreed.
“Well that’s somewhat reassuring,” Vi stated. “And also terrifying. This means Zagamar can expand his army much more quickly.”
“A stroke of genius, a Legend giving themselves the power to regenerate,” Tykus opined. Neesha smirked.
“I agree,” she quipped.
“Hey, why not just have Mom go and murder all the Svartálfar and Zagamar?” Hunter asked. “You’re invincible!”
“True,” Neesha admitted. “But I would start changing everything around me into me. One invincible Legend is enough.”
“But Zagamar…”
“Only has a fraction of my ability,” Neesha interjected. “Xerxes doesn’t regenerate nearly as quickly as I do, and Zagamar can only have inherited a fraction of your brother’s power.”
“Ah.”
“So we need to find these ‘generals’ and take them out,” Sukri ventured. “How do we find them?”
“WE…JUST KILL,” Xerxes piped in.
“I’m with Blue on this one,” Vi agreed. “There’s no way for us to tell the difference between regular dark elves and these generals. All we can do is kill as many Svartálfar as quickly as we can.”
“We should mobilize the Ironclad army,” Dominus stated. “March north to the Fringe just before the Deadlands.” He turned to Tykus. “Can we rely on the Kingdom’s armies to be there?”
“You can,” Tykus confirmed. “Hunter, since you can fly, I will need you to notify another…me in Lowtown. He’s the bartender of the Lucky Nuts.”
“Catchy name,” Neesha said.
“Been there,” Sukri added. “That was you?” she asked incredulously, staring at Tykus. He nodded.
“I wear many hats,” he explained. “No better place to keep a finger on the pulse of the people.”
“I’ll go tomorrow morning,” Hunter promised.
“Xerxes will lead the Ironclad to the Fringe overnight,” Neesha explained. “Hunter, you can fly out tomorrow morning. Notify bartender Tykus, then join Xerxes for the fight.” She turned to Vi. “Vi, make sure Hunter doesn’t die.”
“Why do I always have to get the hardest job?” Vi quipped.
“I’m coming too,” Sukri declared.
“Guess I have to make sure you don’t die too,” Vi decided. “Camilla should continue to coordinate with the Kingdom of the Deep. Let’s hope she does her part.”
“She will,” Dominus assured.
“Wow, I feel so much better hearing that from you,” Hunter shot back.
“I am no stranger to strategy when it comes to war,” the former duke declared. “I suggest you grant me control over your Ironclad army so that you can take advantage of my experience.”
“Done,” Neesha replied immediately. Xerxes scowled at her, flashing a few angry-looking hand signals. “Don’t argue,” she snapped. “We must use everyone to the best of their abilities if we want any chance of winning.”
Xerxes crossed both pairs of arms over his huge chest, glaring down at Dominus. But he said – and signed – nothing more.
“Xerxes, you take orders from Dominus now,” Neesha declared. “That means you do too, Hunter and Vi.” She glanced at Tykus, who gave Dominus a wry grin.
“It appears our roles
have been reversed,” Tykus stated.
“Your Highness, I…”
“I will serve as your advisor,” Tykus interjected with a slight bow. “You are – as you have always been – the protector of our kingdom.”
“Then it’s decided,” Neesha declared. “We march tonight. Good luck…and be careful.”
* * *
The next morning, Hunter woke up to Sukri gazing at him, a small smile on her lips. Her irises were a deep golden color, and much larger than they’d been when she’d been human, her pupils narrow slits. Her face was completely covered in soft, short gray fur, save for her lips and nose, her ears pointed and small. She still had her hair, which was growing in gray at the roots, and her teeth were still mostly human, save for sharpened and elongated canines.
She was beautiful, in her own way. Different, yet the same.
He smiled back, leaning in and kissing her.
“Morning babe,” Sukri murmured. “You sleep okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Hunter replied. “Especially after that thing you did.”
“You like?”
“I like.”
She snuggled up to him, her body hot against his skin. She ran a few degrees hotter than him, like an electric blanket.
“What are you thinking?” he inquired.
“Who’s the chick here?” she countered, grinning at him. Hunter smirked.
“I don’t conform to gender stereotypes.”
“So what you’re saying is, you’re my bitch,” Sukri stated.
“Whatever makes you happy.”
“You make me happy,” she murmured, kissing him again. He felt a hot, furry hand on his groin, and it stirred immediately, joining them in the whole waking up process. Sukri smirked. “Dirty boy.”
“Not getting an apology outta me,” Hunter retorted.
“Nothing to apologize for,” Sukri shot back, kissing him again. “Need some…relaxation before the big day?”
“I ain’t saying no.”
Sukri grinned, closing her fingers around his member, holding it gently. He felt it grow, pulsing in her grip, until it could grow no more.
“That was quick,” she murmured, sliding her hand up and down slowly. “You never make me wait.”