Blood for the Dancer

by Dallas Mullican

  Two down. Twenty-four to go. Shit.

  The others circled him again, allowing four with spears to take up the attack. Dustan couldn’t get near them. He danced in the center of the ring, batting away one razor-sharp tip and then another. He focused on one to his right and leaped forward. The demon lunged with his weapon. Dustan jumped above the thrust and sliced down on the warrior’s wrist. Gauntlet, hand, and spear clattered to the ground. In a blur of motion, he stabbed his sword into the Slayer’s chest, picked up the spear, pivoted, and threw it at another. The weapon’s triangular point penetrated the demon’s visor through the eye slits.

  The Slayers ignored the eruptions of their comrades and tightened the circle. Down to eight demons now, he parried and whirled, meeting strikes with thrusts and slashes. A score of deep gouges and shallow cuts covered his body. Dustan felt himself weakening. He could not keep up this pace. His blows lost strength, his defense allowed the demons closer and closer. When he fell beneath a ferocious attack from an axe-wielding Slayer, he knew it was over. The demon hovered over him, the nasty weapon poised to fall…

  “Enough,” shouted Aamon. “His head is mine.”

  The Slayer backed away as the Demon Lord came forward.

  “A shame, truly. I had such high hopes for you.” Aamon strolled leisurely around the packed earth. “Not a complete waste, though. You did well for a time. Even so, thousands of angels are not equal to the family you stole from me.” He glanced at Zaphkiel with the remark and offered an apologetic grin.

  “Just do it. Get it over with.” Dustan could barely draw breath. He hunched in the dirt, Blood Dancer lying on the ground at his knees.

  “I suppose I must. How I do wish I could savor the moment longer.” Aamon ran a clawed finger the length of his sword. “Very well. Farewell…my son.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  Dustan dashed forward and brought his sword down in a ferocious slash. Aamon easily avoided the strike and slapped him on the ass as he stumbled past. The assembled demons and angels laughed uproariously. Aamon tilted his head with a smirk. Dustan pushed to his feet and slung a wild slice toward the Demon Lord. Aamon stepped back, allowing the sword to sweep harmless through the air. Dustan, breathing heavily, ambled forward and offered a lazy thrust. The demon smacked it away and ripped a smiling gash in Dustan’s side. Pain radiated down his body. His hands, slick with blood, held the sword in a loose grip. Blurred, the image of the demon prancing before him wavered and birthed multiple versions of itself. Dustan bulled in for one last flurry, but Blood Dancer lacked any finesse or strength. Aamon parried the strikes and slashed him along both thighs and a shoulder. Dustan collapsed, his body racked with agony, chest heaving.

  Kyra lay twenty yards away. She stirred, her legs kicking feebly. Dustan clawed at the ground, pulling himself toward her. Aamon did not advance, but stood watching, amusement glinting in his eyes. A thousand wounds blazed head to toe. Blood and energy left a trail glossy and glowing in his wake as he crawled toward Kyra. She was on her feet now and stumbled to him.

  “Dustan. Oh, please Dustan, don’t die.” Tears streamed from her eyes.

  He reached up and tugged her to him. “I’m beat, but not quite as broken as I appear.” Dustan whispered into her ear, keeping an eye on Aamon and the others. “I need you to summon everything you have. Leave nothing in the tank. Put the biggest fucking orb you can right at those Slayers’ feet.”

  “Why? What are you going to do?” The fear in her voice suggested she had guessed his plan. “No. No, I won’t let you. You can’t.” Frantic, she begged and yanked at his jacket.

  He pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it. “You trusted me before. Please, trust me now. It’s the only way.”

  The plea in his tone and on his face must have persuaded her. With wetted streaks of dirt caking her face, she summoned a courageous expression, and nodded. She helped him to his feet. Dustan staggered a step and fell to his knees.

  In a barely audible whisper, he said, “Now.”

  Kyra stood and held out her hands. Energy fed from her fingers, coalescing in the palms. Aamon grinned at them with a haughty countenance that said they were wasting their time and effort. Larger and larger the orb grew—a brilliant sphere of indigo power. Once Kyra began to pale and the globe reached the size of an umbra steed’s massive head, she flung it with all her might into the midst of the Slayers. The detonation quaked the realm. Fissures and cracks opened across the ground, a cloud of blinding light flooded the landscape. Two Slayers disintegrated on impact. Three more hurled high into the air and erupted before their bodies hit the hardened ground. The others lay still, hundreds of yards away. The force of the blast scorched Aamon’s face and pushed him back, but his expression remained unimpressed. Zaphkiel and his Hunters, after a moment of shock, advanced from across the field.

  “Go now. Run to the Obelisk. Get behind it and get down. Don’t look back.” Dustan, still on his knees, did not glance up.

  “But…I…can’t.”

  “Go!” he shouted.

  Kyra retreated as if slapped. Her steps, slow and hesitant at first, gained speed, and in moments, she sprinted toward the world’s rim.

  Zaphkiel had moved up beside Aamon with his Hunters fanned out beside them. Two dozen umbra steeds and gryphons pawed the ground and roared with rage.

  Aamon clapped. “A valiant effort. Truly. Last chance, Dustan. Yield or die.”

  Dustan kept his head bowed. He drove the point of Blood Dancer into the ground and braced with his forehead on the hilt. Time slowed to a crawl. His mother and father, Lailah, Hadraniel, Manruk and Kandral, his demon family, all drifted through is mind. Everyone smiled with sweet sadness. Kyra gazed at him through a fog of emotion. She kissed him and said she loved him. A thousand faces and voices swirled in his consciousness.

  His hands squeezed the cold steel hilt. A shiver ran through his body and swirled around the intense burning in his arms and legs. Dustan’s chest squeezed tight, clamping out the air. His heart thundered as he quivered on bloody knees.

  Shax’s voice cut through the miasma of visions.

  …such a human.

  And Hadraniel’s…

  There remains much power in the human soul, Dustan. Do not take it lightly, and never forget. You are not spirit alone.

  Dustan focused his energy. A halo of sapphire light bloomed around him. The bubble swelled and grew brighter.

  “What is he doing? He’s mad.” Zaphkiel’s voice held a trace of fear as he and the Hunters retreated a step.

  “A bluff,” said Aamon. “He learned his lesson with Ariel. And with his parents. A gambit to buy time. Nothing more.”

  As the glow increased, Aamon’s confidence slacked, and he, too, backed away.

  Dustan felt his spirit expanding, filling him and branching out. He reached deeper, searching. His hue changed. The radiant blue morphed into an indescribable color woven amidst his spirit aura. Like a prism, it flashed all shades at once. Not the multi-hue of creatures, but a diamond caught in the rays of a million suns.

  Aamon’s eyes went wide. The Hunters tumbled over one another in a frantic rush to escape. The gryphons took flight, screeching. The umbra steeds panicked, stamping the ground and breathing fire in every direction. Zaphkiel lunged for the reigns of his gryphon, but the creature swatted him away with its hindquarters as it sailed into the air.

  Human and spirit merged. The cataclysm that followed tore the realm asunder. A wall of incandescent light rose miles into the sky and raced toward the horizons on his left and right. Dustan glowered toward Aamon and thrust out his hands. The wall surged forward, speeding across the world like a shooting star. The Hunters, gryphons, and steeds blinked out of existence. Aamon and Zaphkiel rode the force into the distance as screaming meteors. Blazing flames trailed their jetting conflagrations.

  Dustan collapsed onto his back and stared up at a clear blanket of night. The web of realms twinkled in his vision. His body felt as though he floated fe
et above the hard ground. Power still crackled in the air, but the world had gone still. Dustan took a deep breath, sighed, and closed his eyes.

  34

  The Barrier

  Dustan struggled to his feet and swayed with dizziness. After a moment to let the vertigo pass, he staggered toward the Obelisk. Kyra peeked out from behind the colossal monument, moved out in the open, and broke into a sprint. Dustan urged wobbly legs to speed up. Kyra almost knocked him to the ground when her arms engulfed him.

  “I’m okay.” He couldn’t breathe, her hug squeezed so tight.

  “What happened? I’ve never felt anything like it before! The pressure. I thought my head would explode.”

  “Got in touch with my human side.”

  She peered at him as if assuming a joke. “You did what?”

  “A long time ago, when Valefar trained me…well, he kicked my ass every day. I was fighting him solely as a human. I couldn’t match his speed or strength. When I embraced my demon side, I could. Since then, I guess I’ve divorced myself from the human in me and relied on the spirit’s gifts to aid me. The flesh seemed weak and frail compared to the power of the spirit. Odd, I kept my heart and mind so tied to the human in me, but allowed the spirit complete reign over my body.”

  They arrived in the shadow of the Obelisk. A grouping of stones, smaller monoliths, stood to one side. Kyra guided Dustan over and they sat against the cool rock.

  “Hadraniel told me not to forsake that part of myself. I didn’t understand at the time, but when death waited around the corner, and everything I tried failed, I searched myself, my soul, for anything remaining untapped inside me. It was hidden there all along. I never looked for it, just forgot it existed.”

  Kyra turned his head with two fingers on his cheek and kissed him on the lips. His hand found her face and stroked her skin with the back of his nails. They sat in silence for a time, regaining strength. Kyra reached into her jacket and pulled out the blade and hilt. Dustan noticed the swirling energy—streaks of silver and crimson twisting and rolling.

  “I meant to ask before. What’s inside it?” he asked.

  “Blood. My parents’ blood.” Kyra rotated the dark metal in her hands. “They hoped their joint essences would gain passage through the Veil. It didn’t work.”

  “They knew only you could?”

  “Yes. They tried for years to find another way. I heard rumors, though none would confirm them, that my parents attempted to assassinate Zaphkiel. I think they hoped killing him and Aamon might end the war. A fool’s dream. Ariel or another would have moved in to lead the Host, and some other demon would have taken up the position of Demon Lord.”

  Dustan nodded. “It will never end. Not unless we stop it.” He lowered his voice, concern creeping in. “Are you ready?”

  “No, not yet. Can we have one more night for the two of us? Pretend for a few more hours everything is fine?”

  Dustan faced her, his heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. “Of course. Another day isn’t going to end the world.”

  He smiled and slid onto his back. Kyra followed his lead and they lay staring up at the luminous web crisscrossing the black sky.

  “See that one?” Dustan pointed toward the realm web.

  “There are millions…billions or more.” Kyra giggled. “How can I find the one you are pointing out?”

  “Work with me. It’s there at the center of the cluster shaped like a rabbit’s ear.”

  “Rabbit’s ear?” She laughed.

  “What?” Dustan glanced at her with faux hurt. “That’s what it looks like.”

  “I might have said a paddle or tub.”

  “Anyway, my realm, I can call it what I want.” Dustan nudged his shoulder toward her.

  “Fine. What about it?”

  “The realm is home to an entire world of cute, furry creatures called wollops. About yea big.” He placed his hands two feet apart. “They spend all day skipping through the forest whacking each other on the head.” Dustan hoped she had not heard of Little Bunny Foo Foo. Once the rabbit ear image stuck in his mind, the rest hopped in.

  “How mean.” Kyra let out and exaggerated gasp.

  “It doesn’t hurt them. They use clubs made from this soft, fluffy stuff. More like a pillow fight.”

  Kyra laughed and rapped him on the arm. “My turn.” She pointed. “There. A realm where everyone is always happy. The animals are all sweet and cuddly. No one gets sick or sad. They live long lives surrounded by those they love and die without pain in their sleep, deep into old age.”

  “Sounds like a wonderful place.” Dustan pulled her close. “Not so different from the In Between, and we’ll be there soon.”

  Kyra kissed him and laid her head on his chest. “Soon.”

  They slept beneath the web, the monoliths guarding over them. Kyra tossed and turned in fits of incoherent mumbling. Dustan stroked her hair, cooing, but nothing settled her. Their long journey had finally reached its end. Neither of them could know exactly what would happen when the blade entered the Obelisk. He understood her trepidation and shared it. Even so, it would be over. Their lives together could begin with all the horror and threats removed. Dustan yearned for the time to arrive when he and Kyra could simply exist. Sit for days doing absolutely nothing if they chose. Shut the world out and grow content, just the two of them.

  When he woke, Kyra stood before the giant monument. Her delicate fingers hovered over the glyphs etched into the strange stone. He noticed her hands tremble as a shudder rocked her shoulders and swayed her body. Dustan stepped up from behind, wrapping his arms around her. She grasped his forearms at her chest. The urgency in her grip kneaded at his skin.

  For the first time, Dustan scrutinized the Obelisk. Perhaps fifty feet wide at the base, it rose hundreds more into the sky, tapering to a slender point. Symbols similar to those on the Great Tree tattooed its entire surface. Head high, an arm’s reach away, a diamond-shaped slot cut into the obsidian stone. Surrounded by a dense concentration of the symbols, it pulsed with eerie emerald light emanating from deep inside. Kyra attached the blade to the hilt. The steel sparked, alternating silver to crimson.

  “Step away. You can’t be here.” Her voice, devoid of emotion, struck him hard.

  “What? No, I’m not leaving your side.” Dustan stood his ground like a defiant child.

  Kyra looked at him with a hint of sadness and fear, but her grim-set mouth and rigid stance made clear she was steeled to the task. Acceptance must have come sometime during the night. She appeared ready.

  “Please. Don’t make this any more difficult for me.”

  How could he protest against her wishes? He would not increase the burden she bore. Dustan kissed her and stepped away.

  Kyra inserted the knife into the gap. Nothing grand happened. The green light flashed, sending tiny jade embers drifting up through the air. A slight tremor shook the ground as the glyphs brightened. Still, nothing earth shattering. Dustan heaved a sigh of relief as Kyra pulled the knife from the stone. She turned and gazed at him, an unspoken apology in her eyes.

  Dustan’s smile fell from his lips, his relief drained away. Kyra placed the blade against her chest, pulled hard, and drew it downward. His mouth gaped in horror, a scream frozen in his lungs. He rushed for her. A force burst from her body greater than the wall he erected to banish Aamon and Zaphkiel. Dustan hurled through the air and crashed down hundreds of yards away. He pushed himself to his feet and shoved against the blistering wave. Kyra cradled her heart in her palms. Energy fired from the spherical core back into her body and outward in tentacles of violet radiance like a massive Tesla coil. She stepped forward to where a hollow appeared in the base of the Obelisk, placed her heart into the hole, and watched it sink into the monument. Kyra sagged to the ground, her head resting against the stone. Streams of amethyst continued to travel from the Obelisk to her chest.

  The wave slackened and Dustan pounded forward. He felt the earth tremble, the desert floor cracking with
long, thin fractures. In the next moment, the realm quaked as if a god had picked it up and shaken it. Fissures rent in the packed dirt widened with thunderous concussions. Dustan leapt across an opening chasm and latched onto the far side by his fingertips. He held on while the seism rocked his body side to side. Small pebbles and large rocks bounced off his head and shoulders. Clinging to the rim, he kept his face down. Violent vibration shook the earth, jarring and disorienting, and he felt his fingers slipping. His arms burned and seemed to stretch, the bones cracking and popping.

  When the tremors slackened, Dustan summoned all his strength and hauled himself up over the lip. From the island where he stood, the entire landscape lay spread out like a giant’s broken teeth. Spires of earth rose from the shuddering ground while the dirt between them fell into sinkholes. He gazed down. The floor separating him from the next pillar sat hundreds of feet below, the distance across too far to jump. He wished he had Kyra’s daggers. Nothing for it, but leap to the base and climb up…a dozen of them. The first few proved relatively easy, though his muscles screamed with each upward tug. By the time he reached halfway, he could barely raise his arms to chest level. He looked to where Kyra lay motionless. Islands of desert still separated them, vast rivers of open space between each.

  The beam at the monument’s peak wavered and blinked out. The world fell silent and held its breath. Dustan braced as a palpable weight crept into the air. The shaft of light shot from the pinnacle thicker and brighter than before. Zigzagging like a lightning strike, it sped for the sky. When it struck, the realm went bright white. A booming clap deafened him. Blood and energy trickled from his ears and nose. Blinded, Dustan fell to his knees and crawled, pitiful moans born of despair drooling from his lips.

  His vision returned seconds later, but obscured with blurred spots. Kyra had not moved, and Dustan could not tell if she lived. A desperate scream tore from him. He bounded from one island to the next, giving little concern to whether he fell, some reserve of energy and adrenaline propelling him over the cavernous gaps. When he came to her side, the gaping hole in her chest flickered with fading lavender light. Emerald tendrils seeped from the Obelisk and snaked into her body, petite fingers wiggling almost imperceptibly.