Blood for the Dancer

by Dallas Mullican

  As he ascended the rise, he found not a single structure, but a city. Or at least the remains of one. Dozens of crumbled buildings, large and small, littered the plateau. He carried Kyra through what might have been the central street. The largest edifice stood at the far end of the lane. It appeared to be a keep of some kind, sporting battlements along the top and a shattered iron portcullis above the gates. Dustan decided it seemed the most secure. Along the way, he passed one destroyed building after another. An ancient place. Blackened stone lay in heaps amidst charred timbers, calcified humanoid bones stuck up from the blistered ground.

  Dustan kicked the keep’s doors ajar. The right panel crashed inward and thudded to the floor in a billow of dust and ash. He laid Kyra on the dais and curled up beside her. With his arms wrapped around her, he fell asleep in seconds. Dreams of fire, screams, and burning bodies woke him. Kyra no longer lay with him. His bones cracked and muscles cursed him as he struggled to his feet.

  “Kyra.” He called out, but kept his voice low.

  “Here.” She poked her head out from a doorway on the left.

  Dustan found her examining a series of faded drawings. Singed scrolls lay nearby, but the language made Ancient Egyptian look fresh and new by comparison. The illustrations resembled Egyptian paintings as well and depicted a wall of some kind, a tree on one side and an army on the other. The army marched on the barrier, assaulting it with catapults launching flaming barrels of pitch. Arrows so thick they blocked out the sky rained down on the wall. The final parchment showed the tree on fire and the wall blackened.

  “What do you think it means?” asked Dustan.

  “I think they planned to attack the Veil and reach the Great Tree. The scheme backfired, no pun intended.” She grinned.

  Dustan was glad to see her smile again. “Doubtful the Veil can be breached.”

  “I don’t know. Judging by these, looks like they had some success at first. This one shows a dark spot on the wall. I think they were able to thin it out at one location. If they had concentrated their attacks there, they might have torn an opening.”

  “Why didn’t they, I wonder?” Dustan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Seems they were pretty advanced militarily, for their time.”

  “Could be that they did, but were destroyed before they could take advantage of it. Maybe the wall didn’t react with the cataclysm until the army breached the Veil. Who knows?” Kyra slid the drawings to the side.

  Another batch lay underneath. One showed the army marching out from the Garden. The branches of the tree followed them into lands depicted only as circles with the ancient writing on them. Another portrayed the inhabitants of this realm dying in great numbers, rays from the two suns setting them afire.

  “Why didn’t I see it before?” Kyra snatched the first group of drawings back in front of them. “Look. There’s only one sun. Then here…one large, one small.” She stared down. “I think this realm once had only one sun. The conditions and landscape would have been much different. Somehow, a second sun came or developed, and the world became uninhabitable. They discovered the gateway and planned to find a new world to settle. But they were a warrior society, they thought in terms of conquest, not peaceful colonization.”

  Dustan kissed her on the cheeks. “You’re pretty smart, you know?”

  She grinned. The smile turned as a competing thought flitted across her eyes. “Sounds familiar doesn’t it? The angels and demons may not need a new world to settle, but their intent would be the same.”

  “True. So maybe we get lucky and the Veil destroys them for us.”

  “The spirits have far more power than this civilization. I doubt the Veil could stand against them.”

  Dustan shrugged. “We already knew they might try. It’s why we’re here.”

  “But this shows it’s real. It was accomplished at least once before. Not only a theory, or a scary possibility. And if they or any race managed to somehow control creation…” Kyra looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

  He understood now. “Defeating the spirits would never have been enough. Others will try, at some point.”

  Kyra hugged him. “There’s no turning back and no other way. Fighting them won’t solve it. Promise me we’ll finish this.”

  The angst in her voice terrified him, and he couldn’t comprehend why. “The plan is the same. This changes nothing. We’ll go to the Obelisk, and you’ll erect the barrier. Happily ever after.” She pounced into his arms. Her body felt good against him, but why was she shaking?

  Dustan pulled back to ask her what was wrong, but Kyra turned away. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She drew her daggers as her body went taut.

  “Kyra, what’s wron—”

  The arched windows on the left side of the great hall exploded in a shower of glass and wood as six giant scorpion worms slithered through. Another dozen scurried in the front entrance. The clatter of a million tiny legs, like bristles on a hardwood floor, skittered across the room.

  “Shit. Get back.” Dustan waved Kyra behind him and retreated on to the dais. The creatures poured in, hissing, pinchers clacking.

  “We don’t have the energy to blast them. A few might go down, but we’d be left too weak to fight.” Kyra shifted her feet, waiting for the first to come close. “No certainty it would even affect them.”

  “Let’s see if steel does.”

  Dustan leapt to the side of a scorpion worm scampering up on his right. The pinchers snapped on open air as he vaulted over the creature. Another hissed behind him as venom shot from its tail. He ducked low and scooted back a pace. The beam overhead and the floor beneath him disintegrated in sizzling vapors.

  Kyra managed to flip one onto its back and sliced it open. Cords of gory entrails flowed out in a pool of brown slime. A scorpion worm caught her leg in a claw and whipped her into the wall. Dustan held his breath. She bounded up, appearing pissed off, and drove a dagger into the creature’s mouth when it moved in to bite her.

  “I have an idea,” he shouted. “Keep them at the back of the building with you.”

  Kyra kicked a scorpion worm away and glared at him. “What? Like I have a choice?”

  “When I say so, use the rafters and haul ass to the front doors.” She did not appear pleased with the plan. “Trust me.”

  Kyra nodded and Dustan pivoted to the closest worm.

  During the last attack, he noticed they lost him when he vaulted. He hoped they couldn’t look up too well. The creature hissed and charged forward, clacking its pinchers, stinger twitching and coiled for a strike. Dustan placed a foot on a fallen pedestal and leaped high. The scorpion worm raced right under him. He hit the floor, spun Blood Dancer in a wide arc, and took the tail off at the second segment. Noisome sludge oozed from the severed end.

  “Now!” Dustan grabbed the stinger and headed to the entrance in quick, high jumps.

  Kyra leaped to the rafters and swung the length of the great hall like a kid on monkey bars. Once she landed lightly at his side, Dustan pointed the stinger at the vaulted ceiling and squeezed the base. Thick, green venom shot out, showering the ceiling and support beams. The scorpion worms crawled over each other scurrying toward them. The roof came crashing down, engulfing the creatures in a cloud of timber, stone, and dust.

  “Let’s get the hell outta here.” Dustan waited for Kyra to sprint from the building and darted after her.

  A mile from the city, they finally held up, panting and exhausted. The desert continued into the east, but the landscape here lay broken by the occasional shallow lake—underground reservoirs seeping to the surface—and rock clusters jutted from the ground. They welcomed the change from the desolate waste of the west. After drinking their fill and regaining strength, they moved on. The Obelisk stood somewhere ahead. As the distance grew shorter, Dustan and Kyra grew closer.

  They stopped after several more days of travel and rested beneath a collection of large boulders. The rocks blocked the suns’ cruel rays if they tucked in tight and p
ositioned themselves right. Kyra nuzzled against him. Their bodies pressed together added to the heat, but Dustan didn’t mind. He detected greater apprehension on her part the farther they journeyed. The precise nature of what she must do at the Obelisk eluded him. She would not talk about it. He assumed it called her parents and their deaths to mind.

  “I mentioned it before, but we didn’t discuss it much.” Dustan ran his fingers through tangled hair. “Once this is done and the danger passes. I mean…I want you to stay with me. Like…permanently.”

  She said nothing, but pulled his arm tight around her.

  “We could build a cottage across from Kandral and Manruk. Have bridge night every Thursday.” Dustan chuckled.

  “I’ve never played bridge.”

  “Me either. We’ll learn.”

  Kyra laughed. “We’d need to teach Kandral and Manruk I bet.”

  “So what? Ten thousand years should be enough time. Even if I am a slow learner.”

  A bright orange lizard slinked up close and stared at them. Kyra extended her hand and it fanned out an indigo collar, hissed, and darted away. They laughed well beyond the humor of the situation. Tension knotted their bodies head to toe, and they welcomed any excuse to lessen the stress level.

  “I love you.” Dustan grew serious. “I never want to be without you.”

  “I know. I feel the same.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

  “When this is over, I’ll never let anything hurt you ever again.”

  “Nothing ever will.”

  Dustan appreciated her confidence and felt reassured by it. If she could face the future with such peace and strength, he would find a way as well. After all, the hard part belonged to her. Once they arrived at the Obelisk, she would place the knife in the stone. What happened then, he had no idea. He guessed some fireworks of some kind as the barrier went up. The end, fini, caput, over and out, their lives could begin in earnest. Dustan smiled and pulled Kyra close. She must have felt the same strong emotions, a single tear traced down the back of his hand.

  33

  A Whole is Two Halves

  The Obelisk sat beyond the edge of the world, perched on a stone slab that projected out into nothingness. A thin beam of light shot up from the monument’s pinnacle. Silver streams fanned out in an intricate web from the point where the beam struck the sky—every realm a sparkling star flickering at each intersection.

  Dustan and Kyra gazed up, speechless with awe. When she gripped his hand, he turned to her, surprised to see tears tracing down her cheeks. He mustered his most reassuring smile and put his arm around her shoulders. The Obelisk, though made visible by its massive size, remained a half day’s trek away. Since they passed through the milky portal a day back, rocks, lakes, and dunes had fallen away. Nothing blemished the flat barren ground from here to the world’s rim. The oppressive heat of the two suns disappeared, replaced by a night sky and the gossamer web overhead. They strode on, their steps heavy and burdened with apprehension.

  A shriek pierced the silence. Their eyes sought the source of the sound and found a glinting shadow growing on the horizon. As it grew closer, the shapes came clear—a dozen Hunters on gryphons, and Slayers in equal numbers riding umbra steeds. The two figures at the forefront elicited the greatest fear. Aamon and Zaphkiel flew side by side at the head of a joint force of angels and demons.

  The High Commander and the Demon Lord landed a few strides away with the Hunters and Slayers setting ground behind them. Zaphkiel gleamed in heavy white armor, a two-handed greatsword strapped to his back. Aamon wore lightweight oxblood leather. He glided forward, his fingers dancing along the hilt of a katana. The demon flashed his brilliant smile, lacking any warmth or humor, in greeting.

  “Dustan, my boy. Why have you not called or visited? I’ve missed you.” Aamon’s stance was loose and easy, a contrast to the rigid menace of Zaphkiel. “You have been a naughty little shit, haven’t you?”

  “Sorry,” said Dustan, moving in front of Kyra. “How did you find us?”

  “Ha. You didn’t think Hadraniel alone knew of the Great Tree and the Obelisk? There are many gates and spheres, and our knowledge of the realms is vast. Alas, the Great Tree has eluded us. Such will not be the case much longer. Oh, and speaking of Hadraniel, how are things in the In Between? We plan to visit there as well…soon.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.” Dustan’s body tightened, every muscle screaming and prepared to spring.

  “The insolence of youth.” Aamon rubbed his chin between two fingers and a thumb. “Or is it the innocence? I do confuse those.” His eyes grew hard. “You betrayed my kindness. Not very nice.”

  “You lied to me from the start. I owe you nothing.” Dustan snarled, his eyes sensitive to the demon’s slightest movement.

  “No? Nothing but your life. It is mine. I paid for it in the Moat. I lost friends…true friends in the effort. You cost me dearly. You have no idea how difficult it was for me.”

  “I don’t really give a shit.”

  “Hmph, such respect for your betters.” Aamon tipped one boot behind the other. His nonchalant deportment sought to unnerve Dustan, and it was working.

  “Enough of your theatrics, Aamon. Kill the brat.” Zaphkiel’s indulgence of the repartee had worn thin.

  “Patience, my friend. In due time.” Aamon sauntered across the desert floor as if it were a ballroom, and he prepared for a waltz.

  Zaphkiel ignored him and stormed toward Dustan. Aamon spun into his path, a hard glare in his eyes. “We are not humans, Zaphkiel. We honor our agreements. You do not trust me to deal with the girl alone, so be it, but the boy is mine.”

  The archangel matched his stare for a long moment, huffed, and backed away. “Fine. But be done with it.”

  Aamon returned his attention to Dustan. “I am not an unforgiving sort. Kneel before me, beg my forgiveness, pledge to me, and I will welcome you back into my good graces. All that nasty business will be in the past, forgotten.”

  “I don’t think so. I hoped you would bring Geras with you. After destroying Shax and Valefar, I wanted to finish cleaning house.” Dustan scowled at the demon. “Oh, did I forget Saerna?”

  Aamon’s sword whipped from his hip faster than Dustan’s eyes could follow. The Demon Lord stalked forward, but caught himself. He stepped back and sighed. “Ah, nicely done. I will have my vengeance, but cold, detached from the anger I feel for you, and all you have taken from me. No, it will be slow. I plan to enjoy every cut and relish the taste of your blood on my blade.”

  “Here I am. Come get it.” Dustan’s bravado sounded weak even in his own ears.

  Aamon’s hate-filled stare bore into him. “Do not kill him and leave the girl unharmed. We have need of her.” He pointed the tip of his sword at Kyra.

  Dustan marched forward. “You stay away from her. Harm her and I’ll—”

  “Oh, don’t worry. We do not intend to hurt the girl. Not yet. It would have been preferable for our assassins to have dispatched her long ago and avoided this whole business. In truth, she was never an essential part of our plans, and the miniscule chance she might succeed without our knowledge remained a constant risk. Nevertheless, guards have kept watch here for ages awaiting her arrival. Now, we will make the best of the situation.”

  “What are you talking about?” Confusion and anger roiled within Dustan.

  “Ah, you don’t know, do you? When Kyra invokes the Obelisk, all gates will open for an instant. The Veil will fall. She will die with the ritual left uncompleted, the portals of all the realms held open.” He brushed dust from his wrist guards with the flick of a hand. “We will find the Great Tree and the In Between eventually, and our armies will march into those hidden lands. Oh, the war amongst ourselves will continue afterward. We must decide who will control the Tree, but there is time enough for that. Truly, the two of you making it here is the simpler outcome, all things considered.”

  Aamon nodded to Zaphkiel. The High Commander’s speed mat
ched the demon’s. He dashed past Dustan in three strides and cracked Kyra on the side of her head. She dropped like a stone, unconscious, to the ground.

  Dustan brought Blood Dancer to a blaze and moved on the archangel.

  “She’s fine, boy.” Zaphkiel held up his hands in mock surrender. “A bump on the head. Can’t have her killing our warriors if they can’t harm her. Only fair.” He returned to his warriors.

  “You want Kyra? The Obelisk? You have to get past me first.” Dustan narrowed his eyes, one foot twisting into the dirt.

  “Ha. A pleasure. But let’s not rush to the main course. Care for an appetizer?” Aamon circled a finger in the air. The Slayers stomped forward.

  Great. Fucking great.

  Dustan had hoped he could bait Aamon into fighting him first. The Demon Lord probably would have killed him, but a slim chance seemed better than none. Aamon was cautious to a fault. Zaphkiel would have rushed in, wanting a quick end. The demon, however, would take no chances. He would allow the Slayers to weaken him before claiming the coup de grâce for himself.

  The demon warriors encircled him. He conjured an orb and flung it at one. The Slayers were strong. His energy only managed to scuff a breastplate, but did cause the warrior to glance down for injury. Dustan darted forward, squatted, and whipped his leg around. The demon leapt over the kick and swiped at his head, the blade slicing along his left arm as he twisted away. Dustan thrust with Blood Dancer, and when the attack scraped off plate, he elbowed the warrior hard in the throat. The Slayer crumbled to her knees. A roundhouse kick to the side of her helm sent the demon crashing onto her side in a clang of metal.

  The others gave him no time to finish his fallen enemy. Two more dove in on each side. Dustan rolled, came up on his feet, leapt into the air, and extended both legs straight out. Each demon caught a boot beneath their chins, sending visors slicing into their faces. The tactic dazed them for an instant. Dustan brought Blood Dancer around in a vicious arc. The blade sliced through the abdomens of both foes. Crimson energy spilled in gushing streams.