“Just go! Trust me.”
Reluctantly the dragon backed away and then took wing.
Gram managed to get to his feet then. His back screamed at him in protest and it felt as though the damage to his side might be more serious than he had thought, but he could stand. Drawing a careful breath he spoke, “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”
“It runs in the family.”
The air around them flared with actinic light and Matthew’s face took on an uncomfortable expression. The wizard looked at Gram, “You need to put on the armor. I can’t shield us both like this for very long.”
“Armor?”
“I thought I told you.”
Gram growled at him in frustration. “Matt, you never tell me a damn thing! You love surprises like some men love strong drink.”
“The word is ‘tiersen’, say it and focus your will. It’s just like the other commands,” said his friend, ignoring Gram’s complaint.
Gram didn’t bother arguing. “Tearsun,” he said, hoping his pronunciation was close enough as he pushed his will at the tattoo on his arm in that peculiar way that Matthew had shown him before. New metal scales appeared, flowing from the air around the hilt of Thorn and streaming down his arms. They overlapped as they covered him in something that looked like scale mail, but unlike conventional armor they covered everything, wrapping over and around his body like a second skin. Seconds later it was done and looking down Gram could see he was enclosed in gleaming metal.
Touching his face he felt more metal scales there as well, but unlike those covering the rest of him, these were transparent.
“You have to admit that that’s cool,” insisted Matthew. The world around them flared again and fingers of magenta power coruscated around them, held back by an invisible barrier.
We’re about to be killed by some crazed monster and all he can talk about is how amazing his latest creation is, thought Gram, feeling a desperate urgency. “Yes, Matt, it’s goddamn awesome. Do you have a plan?”
The young wizard gestured and spoke a word and the rocky overhang that Gram had previously fought beside collapsed, burying the dark figure that was approaching. “Sure,” he answered. “Run!” Without waiting, his friend turned and began pelting away, racing south, in the direction that Grace and Irene had gone.
Gram watched him run in amazement before belatedly following. Matthew had always been a naturally gifted runner, but he lacked a lot when it came to regular exercise. Gram overtook him in seconds, the energy from Thorn lending unnatural speed to his legs. “This is your plan?!” he yelled.
Matthew was already beginning to breathe hard, “Brilliant right?!”
We’re going to die, thought Gram. But then, he had already been planning to face that only moments before. “Keep going,” he told his friend. A crashing rumble behind them signaled their foe’s emergence from the rock fall. “I’ll try to distract him. Call the dragon back and get out of here!”
“I’m not done yet!” shouted his insane friend. Searching the path ahead of them desperately Matthew called out again. “See that bush ahead of us? The one next to the funny shaped boulder…?”
“Yes.”
“Try to get him there. I have something that might work. It will take a minute to prepare, but when you hear me yell, get out of the way,” said Matthew. “Got it?”
“Yeah,” answered Gram. “What are you going to do?”
“Something new.”
You and your stupid surprises! thought Gram. “What happens if I don’t get out of the way in time?”
“Just make sure you do,” yelled Matthew. “I don’t want to have to try gluing you back together afterward.” A new blast of light struck him then and the young wizard went tumbling forward.
Gram stopped and turned. Behind them came a creature from his nightmares. The dark rider had transformed as he emerged from the fallen rocks, growing into the shape of some grotesque, monstrous spider. It raced toward him on shining black legs some seven or eight feet in length. Red eyes glowed on its head and powerful mandibles were matched on each side by massive fangs.
By all the dead gods, Gram cursed mentally, what is that thing? Raising Thorn he prepared to meet its charge. A second bolt of power struck him and the world vanished in a flash of brilliant light. Gram fell, his arms going out to break his fall as he flew back. He feared losing Thorn, but the sword remained stubbornly in his hand as though it had been welded there. The armor and the sword are one, he realized. I can’t drop it.
Rolling to his feet he felt more than saw the sweep of one of the creature’s giant legs coming from one side. Striking sideways he tried to block it, and he felt Thorn hit something hard. Half of one of the spider’s legs fell beside him and he whirled to bring the blade to bear on the creature’s hard carapace.
The sword bit deep and grey ichor oozed from the wound. One of the monster’s forelimbs struck him hard, batting Gram away and to the side. The blow threatened to jerk Thorn from his grip, but since the weapon was somehow attached to him, the force of the attack ripped the weapon free, tearing an even larger wound in the carapace as it came away.
“You dare to attack me, manling?” The alien voice issued from somewhere within the strange spider. “I am Chel’strathek, the Terror of the Night. Your weapon cannot harm me.” The monster’s carapace was healing even as he spoke and its damaged leg had nearly regained its former length.
Gram had recovered his balance and came back at the dark god with a vengeance. The stone in Thorn’s hilt pulsed as it gave him strength. The great sword became a grey blur in his hands, as he cut at the creature, cutting away limbs and mandibles. Ichor flew as Gram’s fury increased.
He had seen his father fight such creatures once before when he was young and helpless to aid him. It was things like this that had ultimately led to Dorian’s death. He fought not only the monster before him, but the memory of his helplessness. A sweeping cut sent a giant fang sailing away as it ruined the thing’s head and mandibles. Another leg swept toward him but Gram leapt, up and over it, in an arcing jump that sent him almost ten feet into the air.
Coming down he braced the sword in his hands, driving it point first directly into the spider’s armored cephalothorax. Chel’strathek screamed in pain and bucked, pitching Gram to one side. The sword held him in place briefly before coming loose, and then he fell, unable to maintain his position on the giant arachnid.
Razor sharp legs battered him as he struggled to rise, but they could not pierce his armor. Gram felt himself repeatedly slammed into the ground, until he began to wonder if it would be better to simply stay down. The armor itself seemed impregnable, but the blows were punishing his body within it.
A strange pause in the attacks allowed him to regain some sense of the world around him, and then he saw the reason for it. Chel’strathek had drawn back, preparing another of his strange purple blasts. Scrambling to his feet, Gram narrowly avoided the first sizzling attack and the dreadful magic created a smoking crater in the place he had just been.
Dazed he tried to get his bearings. He had lost sight of the place he was supposed to be taking the monster. There. His eyes lit on the bush, but his momentary hesitation nearly cost him.
Amaranthine light enveloped him and his feet left the ground. The force of the blow nearly hammered him into unconsciousness and his armor shattered, flying into pieces just as the sword had when it was struck. His body was a microcosm of pain and his nostrils were filled with the smell of burnt hair and skin. He hardly felt his landing, though the rocks tore away both skin and clothing as he skidded across the rough ground on his back.
Stunned, and blind from pain, he rolled over, attempting to rise to his hands and knees. He could feel the armor reforming around him, but he wasn’t sure it mattered. Another attack like the last and he wouldn’t be able to move.
His right arm collapsed as he tried to put his weight on it. Something was broken there. Gram fell onto his shoulder and then rolled, d
esperately hoping it would help him avoid the next blast.
His vision cleared and he was dismayed to see that he had been sent flying in the wrong direction. Chel’strathek was more than thirty yards from the place Matthew had indicated, and he was between Gram and his goal. Worse, the dark god was about to launch another bolt of destructive force. Scrabbling to the left Gram managed to get behind a mule sized rock.
The stone exploded, deafening him as it was obliterated, but he had found his feet at last. Running forward he dragged Thorn behind him, still attached to his now useless right arm. He began changing directions as he charged, first left and then right, his legs pumping to drive him across the ragged ground.
Sprinting, he made it past the dark god and headed for the one place that still held hope.
Chel’strathek abandoned his attempts at hitting him with focused beams and as he passed close, the arachnoid god emitted a cone shaped pulse of intense energy, a broad attack that was impossible to dodge. Gram was lifted into the air once more and the world went black as he smashed into something far harder than he was.
“Get up!”
Gram heard the voice clearly, but he wasn’t entirely certain whether it came from within or without. It sounded like his father’s voice. He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Everything hurt, but more pressing was the fact that Chel’strathek was preparing to blast him to jelly. The wide cone-like attack had thrown him some twenty feet to the side, but it hadn’t had the necessary power to shatter his armor. Now that Gram was no longer moving the dark god was preparing to remedy that problem.
Pushing off with his left hand he managed to get up and to one side in time to avoid the attack before it came. Seeing more of the terrain reduced to smoking gravel no longer had quite the effect on him that it had had before. Fatigue, injuries, and sheer exhaustion were beginning to take their toll on his reactions. The damned spider was no closer to where he needed it to be, and Gram doubted he could get there before he was completely incapacitated.
Then he had an idea.
It wasn’t his best idea; he would readily have admitted that, if he had had the mental energy to devote to such analysis. Regret would have to come later.
He began running once more, this time instead of heading for the target area, he angled his route to pass between it and Chel’strathek’s current position. He made sure to get close enough that the monster would try his wide cone attack again.
This is going to hurt.
It felt a lot like he imagined it would be if one were to be struck by a charging bull. Once again he was sent into a soaring arc, but this time he landed close to where they wanted Chel’strathek.
He rolled to a stop ten feet past the spot he hoped to get his enemy to, but that would have to do. Movement was no longer a viable option. It hurt just to breathe and he was fairly sure that his left leg was broken. Gram didn’t even bother with attempting to escape, he lay completely still.
I’m helpless now. Come and get me.
As he waited he realized the flaw in his plan. Chel’strathek might choose to finish him without approaching. Shit. He no longer had any options. Surely he’ll get closer since I’m not moving.
Seconds ticked by with glacial slowness, until finally he heard the tell-tale sound of chitinous legs on stone. The beast was coming closer. He didn’t turn his head to look, fearing that any sign of consciousness might make the arachnid rethink his approach.
A shadow fell over him and he saw a thick black leg appear next to his face. No, not that close. Stand over there! The damned spider was directly above him now.
His head was facing the correct direction to see Matthew stand, some hundred yards distant, holding his arms wide and moving his lips. Something dark appeared between his outstretched hands and it began to slowly turn in the air.
The spider laughed. “Foolish wizard! Do you think to strike me with such a slow and clumsy attack?” His legs bent, as he prepared to leap away.
Gram reached across his body, taking Thorn into his left hand and sweeping it across in a wide stroke, clipping the ends from two of Chel’strathek’s legs. The arachnid stumbled and then Matthew released his attack.
Four black triangles, connected at one central point and spanning a space of four or five feet, flew through the air parallel to the ground. It was spinning as it came and when it reached Chel’strathek, it passed through the dark god’s body as though it were nothing more than illusion.
With a strange detachment Gram noted that it passed partly through the bush that stood between them and where the black triangles went, wood and leaves simply vanished.
As the strange triangle blades emerged from the other side of the arachnid’s main body, it shivered and then erupted. The air went white and a giant hand crushed Gram’s body into the ground.
Chapter 37
“Wake up,” said an insistent and increasingly irritating voice. Gram ignored it. I’m dead, go away.
“You have to wake up,” it said again, and then something pushed against his shoulder. Sharp pains lanced through Gram’s body. He began to rethink his ‘dead’ hypothesis. Being dead wasn’t supposed to hurt so much.
Another rough jolt made his mind up for him. “Goddammit, stop!” he hissed.
“You’re alive!” It was Matthew’s voice.
“Not for long if you keep beating on me like that,” Gram complained. He paused briefly and then asked, “How bad is it?”
“I can’t tell. You need to dismiss the armor so I can see your body.”
“I thought you had magic eyes.”
“Magesight won’t penetrate this armor. If it could, you’d have died from the first one of those blasts,” said Matthew.
“That would be some pretty shitty armor then,” agreed Gram.
“Thanks for the compliment,” said Matthew dryly.
“How do I dismiss it?”
“It’s the same command word.”
Gram started to comply but then a thought occurred to him. “It might be better if I leave it on.”
“Why?” asked the young wizard.
“It might be the only thing holding me together.”
“If it was that bad you’d be dead already, but you could be bleeding in there. I need to see you so I can make sure you don’t die.”
“You’re always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” noted Gram. Doing as he had been told, he dismissed the armor. He was rewarded with a worried intake of breath when Matthew saw him.
“Oooh damn!” said his friend.
“I’ll dismiss the sword too, hold on,” said Gram.
“No! Don’t!”
“Why not?”
“I think it’s keeping you alive,” said Matthew, a sound of wonder in his voice.
“What?!” Gram struggled to lift his head.
“Don’t move!”
“Why?!” Gram was growing more panicked with each warning.
“Just shut up. It’s bad, really bad. If you move… oh gods! Just be still. Let me do what I can,” Matthew sounded close to panic himself.
“Can’t we wait for your sister? You didn’t do such a great job last time you worked on me,” observed Gram.
“We split up before I found you. She’s taking Irene and Grace back to Cameron. You don’t have that much time,” said Matthew. “You’ll have to settle for me.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t worry. I did some practicing after last time. Moira told Dad and he wasn’t too pleased. He wanted to make sure I would be better prepared in the future.” Matthew’s voice was calm now.
“If you had made armor that didn’t fly apart every time something hit it then this wouldn’t be the next time,” argued Gram.
“It doesn’t, Gram,” said Matthew. “That armor only does that when something catastrophically powerful hits it. From what Dad told me once, Karenth hit Dorian with one of those purple bolts and it destroyed his armor completely. You got hit twice, and then again twice more by
those broad cone attacks—and you still have armor.”
Gram didn’t say anything; he was torn between irritation and the logic that told him he should be grateful. Silence was his best compromise.
“Well?” asked Matthew.
“Well what?”
“You still haven’t told me how cool you think the armor is…”
“Really?!” growled Gram. “Couldn’t this wait? Don’t you have something more important to do right now?”
“I figured I should get your feedback now, in case…” Matthew’s sentence trailed off.
“In case what?! I die?” Gram said, raising his voice. He wanted to shout but his lungs didn’t seem to have the strength for it. “Honestly, Matt, you’re unbelievable. I’m dying and you want to know if I liked the shiny armor.”
“There,” said Matthew, letting out a long sigh and beginning to laugh.
Gram stared at him in dismay.
“You should see your face,” said Matthew.
“This isn’t funny, Matt. I’m dying.”
“Not anymore,” said his friend.
“Huh?”
“I’m done with the worst of it,” said Matthew. “The large vein in your left leg was torn. I’ve fixed that and fused the bone back together, but the scariest part was the piece of rib that had lodged in your heart.”
“I didn’t feel anything. When did you start?” Did he say my rib went through my heart?
“I started as soon as you removed the armor,” replied his friend. “That’s why your body is numb. Dad made me memorize all the major nerves.”
Gram took a moment to process that, noting with some surprise that his body was indeed numb. How did I not notice that? Was that why he kept talking? To distract me?
“If a rib went into my heart I’d have died before you got here,” said Gram blankly.
“That’s why I told you not to dismiss the sword. There was a line of power running from the ruby stone to your heart and lungs. Somehow it kept the blood flowing and your lungs working until I could fix it.” Matthew was staring down at him with red eyes.
“Are you going to cry?” Gram asked in alarm. Matthew wasn’t known for emotional displays.
Thornbear (Book 1) Page 32