“As I said, young Basjun,” said Earnachar, “you will know when the Guardian unleashes his power.”
“I should say so, sir,” said Basjun, blinking at the unleashed magical fury. Crouch tilted his head to the side, scratching at his ear with one leg.
“Let’s go,” said Mazael. “If Molly and Riothamus are acting as the anvil, then it is time for us to become the hammer.”
The others nodded, lifting weapons or preparing spells. Mazael strode past the columns and into the main aisle of the fane, watching for any sign of foes. Through the archway at the end of the fane he saw the vast inner courtyard of the Heart of the Spider, familiar from his dreams. Hundreds of shrine stones dotted the courtyard, interspersed among the crumbling ruins of small temples. A large hill rose from the center of the courtyard, its rocky sides covered in more shrine stones. A stone altar rested atop the hill.
The strange rift, the death site of the goddess Marazadra, snarled and crackled above the altar.
Mazael had never seen anything quite like it.
The thing looked like a mistgate, yet somehow deeper and darker. Arcs of purple lightning snarled through it, pulsing with flickering light, and sometimes the lightning looked like veins of purple flame. Mazael had no magical ability whatsoever, but even he was able to feel the raw power of the thing. Those among his companions with magical ability or the Sight had an even stronger reaction. Romaria lifted her hand to her eyes as if trying to shade her Sight from an intolerable light. Azurvaltoria grimaced as she looked at the rift, while Timothy frowned and cast a detection spell with his free hand.
“Behold, Lord of Castle Cravenlock,” said Azurvaltoria. “The true Heart of the Spider, the place where the Old Demon tricked and defeated her long centuries past.”
“Garish thing,” muttered Sigaldra.
Another thunderclap rang out, louder than before, and a faint vibration went through the ground beneath Mazael’s boots.
“The battle intensifies,” said Azurvaltoria. She cast a detection spell, similar to the one that Timothy had used. “I think the Prophetess is using the power of the Mask and the Talisman against your vassals…”
Even as she spoke, a shaft of purple fire erupted from within the southern fane, lashing at the sky like a glowing dagger.
“So she is,” said Mazael. “Let’s head to the altar and lay in wait for her.”
He walked into the edge of the vast round courtyard, the rough ground crunching beneath his boots. Five shrine stones stood in a loose semicircle near the archway, not far from a collapsed building that looked like a small temple. Here and there small bushes and tough little trees rose from the ground, sinking their roots into the rocky soil of the Heart of the Spider.
As Mazael looked, two dark shapes moved from behind the ruined temple.
The eastern entrance had not been left entirely undefended after all.
A pair of Spider Guards moved forward with slow, deliberate strides. They looked a great deal like the Spider Guard that Mazael and the others had fought on the slope of the mountain. The creatures had the same gaunt, withered bodies, the same metallic spiders resting upon their chests, the same chitinous black and crimson armor that had burst from their flesh and wrapped around their bodies like malignant growths. The places where the armor erupted from their skin looked infected, and the same stench of poisoned blood and diseased flesh came to Mazael’s nostrils.
“Trespassers,” said one of the Spider Guards in a rasping voice. “Trespassers upon the sacred precincts of the goddess.”
“What are those devils?” said Earnachar.
Mazael started to answer, but Basjun spoke first. Likely the young man knew the Skuldari lore surrounding the creatures.
“The Spider Guards, sir,” said Basjun. “In ancient times it is said that the priests of the goddess took her power into themselves. It gave them strength and power and immortality, but at the cost of constant agony and eternal madness…”
“Foolish boy!” thundered the second Spider Guard. “Bow before the servants of the goddess. Her glory will soon be made manifest.”
“We, too, escort the servants of the goddess,” said Mazael, gesturing at the blue paint still upon the faces of Romaria, Sigaldra, and Azurvaltoria. Perhaps he could bluff them. The first Spider Guard had possessed the Sight, but these two might not have the same ability. “We come to…”
“Lies,” said the first Spider Guard. “The woman is a dragon bound in human form. You are not worshippers of the goddess. You are…”
“All right, then,” said Mazael. “I tell you who I am. I’m going to kill the Prophetess, and I’m going to send your filthy spider of a goddess howling back into oblivion for another ten thousand years.”
They gaped at him. Likely it had been centuries since someone had spoken to them so bluntly.
“Diplomatic,” said Azurvaltoria.
“You’re one to talk,” said Mazael.
“Blasphemy!” howled the Spider Guards in unison, and they surged forward in dark blurs. One of them raised bladed forearms to strike, and the second began to cast a spell, purple fire snarling up and down his arms.
Mazael raced to meet them, letting his Demonsouled rage fill him with strength and speed. The first Spider Guard struck at him, and Mazael ducked under one of the lashing arms, falling back to parry the second blow. The second Spider Guard pointed at Mazael, preparing to fling one of the furious bolts of purple fire that had caused him such pain in the previous battle, but Azurvaltoria and Timothy struck first. The wizard and the dragon threw fire into the Spider Guard, and the creature reeled with a scream, the smell of roasting flesh rising from its withered body. Already the Spider Guard’s burns started to regenerate, and Timothy cast another spell, a blast of invisible force that knocked the Spider Guard back long enough for Azurvaltoria to strike again.
“The talismans!” roared Mazael as Adalar and Earnachar and Basjun rushed to join him, Sigaldra and Romaria loosing arrows. “Aim for the talismans on their chests! That’s the only way to kill them!”
The Spider Guard bellowed, and Mazael ducked under the bladed forearm. This time, he was too slow, and the limb hammered into his chest, driving him to the ground.
###
Adalar leaped into the fray as Mazael stumbled under the Spider Guard’s enraged assault. The Spider Guards were unearthly quick, faster than anything that large should be, but even the Spider Guard could not turn fast enough to avoid Adalar’s thrust. The tip of his talchweisyr sank into the metallic spider on the Guard’s chest, and the ancient creature reeled back with a scream of fury and pain.
The sword’s vibrations intensified in Adalar’s hand, and as before, he felt suddenly stronger. The ancient Dark Elderborn sword had absorbed some of the Spider Guard’s magic, allowing Adalar to use that strength.
The Spider Guard came at him, clawed fingers stabbing for his throat.
Adalar sidestepped, swinging with all his strength, and brought the talchweisyr chopping down.
The Dark Elderborn sword sheared through the Spider Guard’s wrist, sending the creature’s hand to the ground. The Spider Guard screamed, a new hand already starting to grow from the stump of the wrist. But the blow had knocked the creature off-balance, and that gave Earnachar an opening. The Tervingi headman had his axe over his head, and he chopped it down with a ferocious bellow, driving the blade forward. The axe’s blade sank a good two inches into the Spider Guard’s talisman, and both talisman and Spider Guard jerked as if they had been burned. Two arrows slammed into its torso as Romaria and Sigaldra loosed their bows, and Adalar hit the Guard twice more, aiming for its talisman. The first blow struck the metallic spider, but the second ripped a gash down its side at the Spider Guard retreated from the furious attacks.
It was already healing the wounds, but Adalar had noticed something. The Spider Guard’s talisman could heal anything, but it could only heal so many wounds at once. The more wounds that were on the Spider Guard, the slower it healed.
###
Mazael regained his feet and charged, joining Adalar and Earnachar and Basjun as they fought the wounded Spider Guard. The three men had fallen into a pattern, Adalar striking at the Spider Guard’s talisman, while Earnachar harried the creature from the right and Basjun struck from the left. The Spider Guard was quick and strong, but the three fighters divided its attention in too many directions, and it could not respond to all the threats at once.
And Mazael brought a new threat.
He sprinted around the melee, spun, and whipped Talon down in a low strike. He had spotted a gap in the chitinous armor covering the creature’s legs, and Talon’s blade ripped across the back of the Spider Guard’s knee. The Spider Guard bellowed, dropping to one knee as its leg collapsed, and Adalar struck.
The talchweisyr stabbed through the talisman and sank into the creature’s withered chest. The Spider Guard’s eyes bulged, its mouth falling open in a bloody scream, and Mazael swung Talon. On the second blow, he took off the Spider Guard’s head, and its armored body collapsed to the ground.
Mazael did not pause but ran towards the second Spider Guard. So far Timothy and Azurvaltoria had kept the creature at bay, hitting it with blast after blast of magical fire. Flames danced and curled around Azurvaltoria’s fingers as she called her fire, while the valgast staff burned in Timothy’s hand, his face tight with concentration. Their attacks had kept the Spider Guard from joining the battle, but they had done the creature little harm. Its burns kept healing, and the talisman seemed impervious to magical fire.
Fortunately, the talisman was not impervious to brute force, and Mazael had a great deal of brute force.
“Timothy!” he shouted as he ran towards the Spider Guard. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed Timothy’s nod. The fire vanished, and the Spider Guard shook itself, recovering from the attack. It started to turn towards Mazael, but Timothy hit the creature with a burst of invisible force. It rocked back, trying to recover its balance, and Mazael struck.
Talon sank deep into the Spider Guard’s talisman, and the creature roared in rage. Earnachar, Adalar, and Basjun all closed around the Spider Guard, landing blow after blow, and Mazael wrenched Talon free and struck again. This time, he chopped the talisman in half, and the metallic spider curled up as if it had been made of living flesh.
Earnachar’s mace collapsed the side of the Spider Guard’s head, and the ancient creature fell to the ground in death.
“By the bones of the ancestors,” grunted Earnachar, shaking the slime from his mace’s head. “Those devils put up a fierce fight. I hope we do not have to face any more of them.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” said Mazael. “We probably will.”
Chapter 16: A Goddess Reborn
Sigaldra followed Romaria as they hurried through the maze of shrine stones and ruined temples littering the central courtyard. Mazael led them on a weaving course through the courtyard, drawing ever closer to the hill and its altar and the wavering rift standing atop it.
Dread and hope warred within Sigaldra’s heart. There was nowhere left for the Prophetess to run, nowhere she could escape. Celina du Almaine had no choice but to stand and fight here. But the Prophetess had brought powerful and deadly allies.
There was every chance that Sigaldra and the others might meet defeat and death atop Mount Armyar.
But she faced that possibility without flinching. Sigaldra was ready to die to save her sister. More, she was ready to die to save her people. If the Prophetess finished her spells and summoned Marazadra, the world would be enslaved, and the remnant of the Jutai would be swept aside in the carnage. Perhaps the Jutai were indeed destined to die, but if so, Sigaldra preferred that they die naturally, rather than slaughtered by the mad servants of a cruel goddess. She felt a twinge of contempt as she thought of the Prophetess, prepared to destroy the world all because a powerful nobleman had rejected her as a lover.
Sigaldra was ready to die, but she hoped that Adalar would not die with her.
Her eyes strayed to him as he walked alongside Mazael and Earnachar. Adalar’s face was smudged with dust and soot and blood, his armor spattered with blood and whatever substance pumped through the veins of the soliphages, the Dark Elderborn talchweisyr ready in his hand. He was clearly just as tired as she felt, but he did not waver, did not turn back, did not complain.
Truly, he would have been a worthy hrould of the Jutai nation, had the circumstances of his birth been different. Sigaldra wished she could have met him in a different time and place, that they could have met without conflict and battle around them. Yet perhaps that had been a kindness, as the conflict around them had shown her his strength and his determination.
For a moment her thoughts flitted to the future. Would he want to see more of her? He was the lord of lands a long distance from the Grim Marches, and he would have to return to attend to his liege lord. Maybe Sigaldra and Adalar had only been thrown together by their trials and their shared enemies. If they were victorious, perhaps Adalar would go to Castle Dominus, and Sigaldra would return to Greatheart Keep, and she would never see him again.
She did not like that thought at all. But Sigaldra had a great deal of experience accepting things that she did not like. If they survived this battle, perhaps they would never see each other again, and that would be that. If Liane and Adalar walked away from this battle alive, Sigaldra would be content.
For a wild moment, she fantasized about leaving Greatheart Keep, about leaving her responsibilities behind and going to Castle Dominus and Mastaria with Adalar…
No. She could not abandon her people. Sigaldra had her duties, and Adalar had his duties, and that was that.
“Mazael,” said Romaria, gesturing with her bow. “Look. There, along the slope.”
Sigaldra watched as Mazael took a few steps forward, scowling at the hill. They were about halfway across the courtyard, not far from the base of the rocky hill. As they drew closer, Sigaldra saw that the hill looked like a cairn, a vast heap of boulders someone had piled over the carcass of some massive dead thing…
With a chill, Sigaldra realized that was exactly was the hill was.
It was the burial cairn to the dead goddess Marazadra. Sigaldra wondered if there was a colossal dead spider buried beneath the boulders, and decided that she did not want to know.
The sight might have been too horrible to bear.
The cairn had been there so long that the centuries had deposited soil upon its sides. More of those tough little trees and bushes clung to the patches of earth, and shrine stones dotted the sides of the hill. The rift blazed with purple light above the altar, throwing its harsh glare over the ground. Sigaldra wasn’t sure, but she thought the light had gotten brighter.
“There’s only one path to the top,” said Romaria. “Along the side.” Sigaldra saw that someone had made a ramp of piled earth and rocks along the side of the slope. It was the only way to the crown of the hill. Sigaldra supposed anyone could climb the sides, but the path would be far faster.
“It widens about two-thirds of the way up,” said Mazael. There was a ledge there wide enough to support a ring of shrine stones.
“It’s perfect for an ambush, isn’t it?” said Romaria.
“It is,” said Mazael. “It is likely the best we are going to find.” He turned, glancing south. “It looks like the Prophetess hasn’t fought her way here yet. Let’s hurry.”
###
Mazael jogged up the path, listening to the thunderclaps and roars coming from the fane to the south. From time to time, one of the thunderclaps was loud enough to make the ground vibrate. Riothamus and the wizards of the Grim Marches were putting up a ferocious fight against the valgast priests and the soliphages, and no doubt Molly was enjoying herself as she carved a bloody path through their ranks.
After another moment of climbing, they reached the terrace.
The ground was dead and dusty
, and nothing grew in the shadow of the dozen spider-topped shrine stones. So close to the apex of the hill, the purple light was harsh upon the slope, casting long black shadows from the shrine stones.
There was not as much cover as Mazael might have wished, but it was as good as they were likely to find.
They would have one chance to strike at the Prophetess.
“We shall ambush the Prophetess here?” said Earnachar.
“Yes,” said Mazael. “Take cover behind the stones. There and there.” He pointed with Talon. “If all goes well, the Prophetess will be alone with Rigoric and Liane. Timothy, as soon as she steps into the center of the circle, cast a spell of dispelling at her. Try to knock down any defensive wards protecting her.” Timothy nodded and stepped behind one of the shrine stones, preparing his spell. “Azurvaltoria, when Timothy knocks down her warding spells, hit her with every bit of fire you can muster. Romaria, Sigaldra, once the spells are down, shoot her.”
“With the greatest of pleasure,” said Sigaldra.
“Sigaldra,” said Romaria. “Those two shrine stones, there and there. That will give us the best chance of hitting her.”
Sigaldra nodded and ran to the stone that Romaria had indicated, while Romaria hid behind a shrine stone on the other side of the circle.
“What about the rest of us?” said Adalar.
“We’ll try to deal with Rigoric,” said Mazael. “If he’s given a free hand, he’ll kill us all and let the Prophetess reach the summit of the hill. But if it is safe to do so, ignore Rigoric and try to land a killing blow on the Prophetess. And if it looks as if we are going to be defeated, try to get Liane and run for the southern fane. The Prophetess may not be powerful enough to challenge the Guardian, at least not yet. If you can get the Mask away from her, or the maethweisyr she carries, well and good. She cannot summon Marazadra without either of them.”
Mask of Spells (Mask of the Demonsouled #3) Page 23