The Lord of Death (The Age of Dawn Book 2)

by Everet Martins

  Its strength was too much for Baylan and he dove to the side as its blade came crashing into the earth. “Move!” he yelled.

  Drained from using the power of the Dragon, despite her years of tumbling, Nyset was too slow. She was caught through the stomach by both horns at the end of its mace and her scream ripped at something deep inside of Walter. The Lord of Death raised her into the air as she squirmed and wrapped her small hands around the lengths of bone that penetrated her body.

  “No!” Walter roared. “No!” He forced his leg into action and felt his energy rapidly drain as it healed. No, not yet. I need more.

  “You wish to spare this?” The Lord of Death croaked, raising her towards him upon his weapon. Her eyes met his, pleading for relief, her screams tearing into a spot under his chest.

  He stood motionless, blinking tears from his eyes. The Lord of Death threw her from his mace and her lifeless body tumbled across the dirt.

  Grimbald stepped in front of the Lord of Death as his mace fell in another sweeping arc. Grimbald dodged the blow and slammed Corpsemaker into the ground, shearing through armor and taking off the front half of the beast’s foot. It raised its head back in a scream of pain, followed by a mace swing that caught Grimbald in the chest before he struck again. Grimbald was heaved into the air and tossed along the ground, taking out the legs of Falcon soldiers and Death Spawn as he rolled.

  No, no. Something moved in his peripheral vision. Walter turned as a Black Wynch slinked along their flank, claws dark with blood, intent upon Baylan who had moved to his far left.

  “Baylan!” Walter shouted. Baylan yelled as his face was raked by the Black Wynch’s claws. He threw up a Phoenix shield in time before the next lethal strike hit his neck. The Black Wynch hissed as its blow was repelled and attacked again with increased fury. Baylan stumbled and fell onto his back. Walter punched and Stormcaller sprung to life mid-air, tendrils seeking Death Spawn flesh. One of Stormcaller’s tendrils tore through an arm, another a knee and another its neck. Baylan shuddered on the ground and looked up at Walter, face a bloody mess. The Lord of Death kicked Baylan with his bleeding foot, slamming into his gut and sending him five paces along the field.

  Ash started raining from the dark clouds above, coating the battle in gray and black. Walter’s breath rasped and a tremor pulsated through his body. He moaned and shook his head. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Run! Go! His feet wouldn’t move. He pulled the Breden sword hilt from his belt and it fumbled in his grip, falling to the ashen field. Running is the coward’s way. You are warriors, you will fight until the end. You do not run. Noah said in his mind. Calm your mind and lay waste to your enemies.

  He inhaled, slowing his heart rate and the din of battle faded away. The Lord of Death stomped towards him as if he were wading through honey. The chains that hung from his arms clinked with a piercing sharpness. He could hear its breath, heavy and labored, likely from its wounds. He watched as the mouth behind its helm contorted into a satisfied grin. Everyone bleeds, everything can die.

  “Die!” he roared, throwing a fireball from each hand. The Lord of Death deflected the projectiles with his weapons, followed by a reverberating laugh. Dragon forged. Everything bleeds! He cracked Stormcaller first at its torso, tearing plates of armor off, and then sending it around its neck under its helm. Walter narrowed his eyes and savagely willed the tendrils to pull its head free. The Lord of Death dropped its weapons and worked its fingers under Stormcaller’s whips with astonishing speed for a creature so large. As Stormcaller pulled, instead of severing its head, the tendrils were pulled free and removed most of the Lord of Death’s fingers in the effort. The monster screamed and blood pumped from its hands. It flung its arms into the air, and along with it came its weapons connected by chains. Walter’s eyes bulged as its sword and mace whizzed towards him. He twisted his body, barely avoiding being sliced into two pieces by its blade. Close! Its mace came a millisecond after and his vision was filled with shades of red.

  Pain. His ears rang with a high-pitched tone and he opened his blurry eyes to see the Lord of Death standing over him. Reality came rushing back and he noticed its massive sword pointed at his neck, gray eyes filled with rage, blood dripping from its body.

  Something else… is wrong, why can’t I move?

  Walter looked down at his stomach to see he was pinned to the ground by the horns of its mace which had plunged through his ribs and stomach. The pain of the wound intensified at the sight of the weapon impaling his body. The Phoenix light around his wound flared, fighting to push the weapon free from his body and close the wound. His arms quivered and his hands slipped on blood, some his and some not, as they tried to force the impaling horns from his torso.

  “You have failed little whelp,” the Lord of Death said with a grin. It raised the sword in its bleeding hand with partial fingers, two remaining and dangling by threads of skin. Its roar of victory became a scream of agony as the dark blade stabbed through the back of its hand, causing it to drop the weapon beside Walter with a chink.

  “Juzo!” Walter yelled. His bleary eyes recognized the form of his friend, slashing again with his terrible weapon. You came back for me, you remembered. The momentary bliss he felt in that moment almost washed away the misery in his gut. The Lord of Death backhanded Juzo, who would have dodged the blow with ease if not for the dead Cerumal’s body that snagged his foot. He fell into a Falcon soldier and the beast rammed them both with his shoulder, sending them staggering into a cloud of ash. The Lord of Death grunted as it plodded back to where Walter lay pinned.

  No more. He closed his eyes and tears erupted from the corners. No, please, no more. By the Phoenix and Dragon within, dearest of gods grant me the will and strength to slay my enemies and serve another day, he thought, willing it to the Dragon and the Phoenix. We shall provide, but there will be a cost. There is always a cost for great power, two voices one feminine and the other deeply masculine, said in unison in his mind. He froze in silence for a moment at the realization that the power that lay within could commune with him.

  What is the cost? he asked them, voice warbling as if underwater.

  A sacrifice, the feminine voice of the Phoenix whispered. An old friend, the masculine voice of the Dragon hissed.

  The sacrifice of one for the potential to save many is just, even if it must be a friend! He screamed at them.

  It is done, they said together.

  His eyes snapped open at the strange, distant sound. Barking. Why is there a dog here? Why does it sound so familiar? Walter turned his head to the side to find the source of the curious sound.

  “Wiggles,” he whispered. “No, go back. Run! Run!” The dog never obeyed him and it didn’t now. Wiggles’ mouth clamped onto The Lord of Death’s bleeding knee and snarled as he tore into its flesh. The Lord of Death growled and its icy eyes turned towards the dog. The sacrifice!

  “No!” he screamed, gesturing for the dog to run. The Lord of Death slashed at Wiggles and Walter turned his head as the dog released a final, gurgling yelp. His throat burned and he fought the urge to vomit and spat instead.

  The Phoenix and Dragon swirled together, blue and red forging as one continuous ring in the forefront of his mind. In the center of the ring an eye opened, filled with the purest white light Walter had ever seen, filling his body with a cooling sensation of tranquility. The pain melted away and he felt infused with a strength he couldn’t imagine possible. His vision narrowed and solely focused on the grinning Lord of Death. His nostrils flared and his lips pulled back into an animal’s grimace.

  He rose to his feet, wrenching the mace’s horns from the ground. He looked down at it and with a wave of his hand, it was ejected from his abdomen as its two massive wound channels closed with whitish-blue light. Bright red lightning sparked in his fists and his eyes shone with a brilliant white. His hair danced in the air and the Lord of Death took a step back, eyes rapidly blinking. Two Skin Flayers charged towards Walter and red bolts streake
d from his hands, cutting through them and dropping their trembling bodies to the earth.

  “There will be no quarter!” Walter boomed. The Lord of Death snarled and swung his sword arm, sending chain and sword at him. Walter closed his eyes, feeling the path of the attack. A bolt leapt from his eyes and severed the chain attaching the sword, allowing the incongruously large blade to tumble across the plains.

  “No more will die today!” he roared. The monster started to raise its mace arm and a torrent of red bolts laced its body, burning hundreds of holes through armor and flesh. The Lord of Death stared at him, eyes wide and arms falling lifelessly to its side. It felt like the moment lasted an eternity. The beast closed its eyes and fell onto its back with a resounding boom, blasting ash into the air around it.

  Walter stood, muscles flexed, chest heaving, with lightning sizzling in his veins. Its helmet rolled from its head, revealing a face that was all sinewy with flesh that had been stitched together and mouth that was unnaturally wide. Its bony head had steel spikes the length of a hand protruding from it. The Lord of Death had finally met its namesake.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aftermath

  “We have been unable to discover how to slay the demon god Asebor. I am told he appears to be immune to all known destructive forces, both magical and physical. Asebor has been secured in Milvorian chains in the dungeons of the Silver Tower. The High Wizards are preparing a ward that should secure him for 10 millennia, adequate time to discover how to destroy him.” -from the Death Spawn Compendium by Nazli Tegen

  “Fuck me! You killed the fucking bastard! Giant slayer! You’re the fucking giant slayer!” a solider with a pointy beard hollered at him, eyes wide.

  The Falcon soldiers around him cheered and surged against the enemy in a victorious fury. They screamed as they tore into the remaining Death Spawn with unrelenting brutality. An injured man crawled along the ground just so he could place a dagger in the Achilles tendon of a Cerumal. They no longer seemed to be evenly numbered and the Death Spawn force appeared to have significantly dwindled. The enemy, however, would not flee for they did not seem to fear their demise.

  Walter’s eyes easily picked friend from foe and he marched through the fray as bolts sizzled through the air, obliterating Death Spawn by the handful. He felt calm, much more peaceful than he felt he should be. In the distance, he saw Baylan crouched over Nyset’s unmoving body. Ash drifted through the air and had started clumping on Baylan’s back. No, not her, don’t be her. He ran and released all the power he held with a roar. Burning lightning streaked from his core as well as his hands and blasted into the sky. Hundreds of red streaks came crashing down, melting Death Spawn flesh and boring holes through their bodies with stunning precision and avoiding Falcon soldiers.

  Falcon men stood back, aghast at the horror that befell their foes. Flesh liquefied and burned with a horrific stench. Some men realized that Walter was the source and others were informed he was an ally. Their pale faces became ripe with the thrill of victory, cutting down bodies of the few who remained standing.

  His sprint to Nyset and Baylan became a stumble as the combined powers of the Phoenix and Dragon departed into the recess of his body. The burning balls of crackling lightning that surrounded his hands faded and his eyes returned to their normal state. He fell and slid onto his knees as Baylan turned, hand reaching for his belt dagger.

  “Walter— she’s alive, I was able to close her wounds in time,” Baylan said, face seeming to swim with strange colors. Walter nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open and keep his torso upright. The exhaustion that engulfed his mind and body felt like a lash had tightly wound around his neck. Get it together man, this day hasn’t ended yet.

  Nyset’s eyes slowly met his and circled his face. “What happened? Are you okay?” Her voice was small, barely a whisper. Two wisps of blue light swirled into the air and dissipated as Baylan finished healing her.

  “I— I’m okay,” he said, eyes drooping. “Just a little tired.” Her face was pale, but her hazel eyes were alight with life. Her cuirass had two gaping holes through it. The once gleaming armor was mostly covered with a sheet of blood and clumps of dirt. She put her hand upon his and gave it a squeeze. It was the most wonderful thing he had felt all day. He wanted to bathe her and remove the remains of this day from her skin. To sleep, to not be fighting, to not be covered in the blood of demons would be nice.

  Walter stared at their hands, hers laying on top of his. The blood and ash on their hands became gray, wet clumps. There is too much red here. What are you doing sitting in the middle of a battle? His spine snapped upright and he twisted his body from side to side, searching for enemies.

  “It’s okay, Walter… they’re dead. We’ve won,” Baylan said, patting his arm.

  “Oh,” he said dreamily.

  A hand slapped him on the back. “Hey! There you are, what’s your name lad?” Walter slowly turned his head to see the soldier he had saved earlier, resting on a knee and holding his ridiculous red-plumed helmet under his arm.

  “Walter,” he said, squinting his eyes. “Why?”

  “Walter, a great name!” the soldier said, slapping him on the back again. He got up and screamed, “Here he is, Walter the fucking Giant Slayer!”

  “Yeah, that’s him, I saw him blasting the beasts with fire from his asshole!” a portly soldier said.

  “The kid shits lightning!” another man yelled.

  “Walter the Giant Slayer,” a thin man shouted. Others soon followed with cheers and mutters of their own, those that weren’t badly injured at least.

  Walter turned back to Baylan, who held a hand to his ribs. “How are you holding up? You took a nasty kick back there.”

  “My ribs have healed enough to reduce the misery, but there—” He winced. “There is still much to be done.”

  Walter nodded. “Thank you for saving her. I am deeply indebted to you.”

  Baylan shook bits of ash from his hair. “No, Walt. It’s just what friends do,” he said, forcing a smile. A Tower wizard is my friend. What would’ve Dad thought? He would have reminded me to never trust a wizard.

  The Rot flies and carrion birds had already started moving in, sucking at wounds and pecking at dead flesh. Falcon soldiers picked up the wounded and put them on the backs of horses. Other soldiers started gathering weapons from the corpses of dead men. A few soldiers walked around with spears, slamming them into any beast that twitched or crawled. Walter blew out his cheeks as he watched two dark birds fighting over a strip of meat.

  “Where’s Grimbald? Juzo? Has anyone seen them?” Walter groaned as he stood. The pain in his right leg throbbed like the blows of a black smith’s hammer, making him favor his left leg. He almost slipped on a pool of blood and regained his balance. The metallic smell of blood and piss everywhere bit at his nostrils. More than a few men had shit themselves, adding to the horrific aroma.

  This isn’t as glorious as I’d imagined it would be when I was younger, Walter thought, sweeping his eyes over the battlefield, forcing himself to view the brutality of war. Severed arms and legs littered the plains. Oh Phoenix, how did I end up here? I thought I would be used to this by now, but there’s so much blood here. So many dead, so much pain. Wiggles, you fool. You were a good boy—it had to done. Didn’t it? I won’t forget you. He wiped a tuft of ash and tears from his eye as Grimbald stumbled through the fog, Corpsemaker dragging behind him.

  “Grim!” Walter yelled, limping towards him, feeling a little of the pain lift at the sight of his friend.

  “Hey—” he groaned, clutching his shoulder. “Hey, Giant slayer,” he finished with a grin.

  Walter shook his head. “I really hope that doesn’t stick.”

  “Shit, your shoulder, come over here, sit with us. I think Baylan’s spent… it might be a bit until we can get you healed.” Grimbald’s arm was twisted at the shoulder towards his chest in a completely wrong position.

  “I think it’s dislocated. I might be able to
put it back if you’re willing to try it.”

  “Do I have a better choice?” Grimbald said, lips forming a line.

  “I know how painful it is, it happened to me once in Sid-Ho training. Baylan, do you think you can support Grim over your hips if you sit on your hands and knees?”

  “I suppose I could, but why?”

  “Trust me,” Walter said with a nod.

  Baylan moved into position and Walter lead Grimbald to drape his upper body across Baylan’s hips. Walter wiped his hands off on the back of his legs and then gingerly removed Grimbald’s shoulder armor.

  “This will hurt, but you’ll thank me after,” Walter said, wrapping his hands around the man’s massive bicep.

  Grimbald eyed him suspiciously. “Alright, I trust you.”

  Walter started pulling Grimbald’s arm down towards the ground. Grimbald grunted, clenched his jaw and closed his eyes.

  “Just a little more…” Walter pulled progressively harder until his arm thunked back into the shoulder socket.

  “Impressive!” Baylan said as Grimbald removed himself from Baylan.

  “Amazing, the pain is gone,” Grimbald said, working his shoulder. “Where’d you learn how to do that? I could kiss you.”

  “Please, don’t,” Walter said, chuckling with his palms open in a defensive gesture. “My Mom, she was a surgeon. Taught me a little about repairing the human body.”

  “She was a great woman Walter,” Nyset said, eyes closed and mouth smiling. She parted her eyes, looking towards their horses. “Where is Wiggles? He’s not over there, he must’ve gotten loose.”

  Walter shook his head. “He… died, trying to protect me.”

  The sacrifice.

  “Oh no, Walter I’m so sorry. He was a good boy,” She said, her eyes pained.

  “A shame, I liked that dog,” Grimbald said, frowning.