The Murkling shied away from the lightning as it soared towards it. When it struck, a powerful explosion of light rocked the world around me. The creature seized and convulsed as thousands of volts coursed through its body frying everything from its nerves deep inside of its flesh, to the flesh itself.
The air was left singed, and reeking of burned flesh, but the Murkling was down.
One of them, anyway.
Ifrit was still dealing with two of them, but they weren’t attacking him—the were staggering from left to right, as if they were dazed. Oktos had taken to the skies again, holding in each of his hands a piece of his shattered leg. I yelled out to Ifrit again, and this time, the fire Godling finally acknowledged me.
“What!?” he growled.
That sent me for a loop. My entire body went suddenly cold, almost numb. “Ifrit…” I said, trailing off.
Ifrit’s angry stare softened, like he’d only just become aware of it. His eyes widened, as if coming out of a daze. “Sound,” he said, “They use their incredibly sensitive hearing to track their prey.”
“Alright. I can work with that.”
“I think I’ll just wait up here from now on, if you both don’t mind,” Oktos said.
“Yeah, you do that,” I replied, looking around for more Murklings. Several hadn’t dared enter the ring of fire Ifrit had made for us. The other two that were still up and inside were starting to shake their momentary stun off. It made, now; they’d been stunned when I sent that second lightning strike crashing down on one of their friends.
I readied myself, taking a defensive stance and cupping my hands. Calling on the Tempest again, stretched my hands to either side of my body, and clapped once, hard and fast, sending a thunderclap ripping through the city. The sonic wave was powerful enough to take bites out of some of the less sturdy marble columns and walls, the ones nearest to us, anyway.
For the Murklings, though, the blast was more than they could bear. The Murklings lurking outside of the fire ring turned tail and scampered away, while the others stuck inside with us took to the ground, whining and whimpering. Ifrit came down on them like a hammer of fire, kicking one of them hard in the side and making it burst into flames.
The other one, I took care of. I grabbed it with my mind, lifted it into the air, and then sent it hurtling into a solid marble wall. The creature crashed through the wall itself, making it crumble around it. When it didn’t get back up, and the others didn’t return, I allowed myself a moment to breathe deeply, then exhale.
That was that, at least for now.
I walked over to Ifrit, slowly. “Are you alright?” I asked.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I don’t know what came over me.”
“You scared me.”
“I scared myself. I’m not meant to disobey you.”
I nodded. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”
“Speak for yourself,” Oktos said, descending near us. Even standing on only one foot, he was still graceful, and lithe. He shook the remnant of his foot at me. “What am I supposed to do about this?”
“Is there no way you can fix that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been dismembered before. Psychopomps weren’t meant for battle.”
“Maybe not, but you saved my life. Thank you.”
Oktos scoffed. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”
“No, I mean it. That was badass, what you did. I’m gonna try and find a way to put you back together, I promise.”
The Psychopomp nodded. “In the meantime, I suggest we get out of this place. We’ve probably alerted more of those things to our presence here.”
“You realize, getting out of here means going deeper into the city, right?” I pointed at the temple of five pillars. “We’re going to the throne room.”
“Better in there than out here. At least that place has walls.”
“I hate to break it to you, but if it’s anything like my dream, it doesn’t have walls. Still, I don’t think those things came to us by accident. I think she’s watching us.”
“Testing us,” Ifrit said. “She wants to know if you’re truly worthy.”
“Worthy?” I asked, “Of what?”
Ifrit fell silent for a time. “Of her.”
A shudder pulsed through my body, igniting my skin. “She’s not gonna get me,” I said. “Let’s go and finish this.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The men opened fire, their machine guns rattling and spitting chunks of hot lead at Axel and Neeve. Neeve waved her hand and a wall of black flames rose up from the ground, swallowing the bullets as they reached it. Axel watched the mesmerizing fire with wide, curious eyes. He’d never seen anything like it, the way it moved, and shifted… and whispered.
The Mage on the other side of the wall, though, wasn’t as impressed. He frowned and snapped his hand, and sent a bolt of magic hurtling through the air. The magic pierced the fire with impunity, leaving Axel to block it and send the spell’s energy into a nearby wall, where it left a smoking scorch mark.
Axel fired a stunning spell of his own, not at the Mage, but at one of the men holding guns. The first one went down fast and hard, and Neeve took the second one down without much trouble. That left the Mage on his own, facing off against a Psionic and a Demonologist.
Neeve’s wall of black fire snuffed itself out in a single breath, leaving the corridor wide open for the battle that was about to take place.
“What’s your name?” Axel asked.
“What’s it to you?” the Mage barked.
“I’m asking because I want to know what name I should give the Magister when he comes into this compound looking for corpses to cart away.”
“You think you’re gonna kill me?”
“I don’t have to remind you of who I am, do I?”
A frown crept across the Mage’s lips. “Asmodius’ little bitch of a son. I know who you are. I also know—”
Neeve attacked, firing a spell at him from her right hand which he only barely managed to deflect away. “I think that’s enough out of you,” she said, preparing another attack.
The Mage’s eyes narrowed, and he took a defensive stance. “The only corpses being carted out of here, will be yours.”
Axel rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time for this,” he said to Neeve. “Where is Izzy? Are we close?”
Neeve nodded across from where they were standing. “Just on the other side of that door,” she said, “I think.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” the Mage barked. “I have orders to keep you right here, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“You go,” Neeve said, “I’ve got this under control.”
“Like hell you do,” the Mage barked, and he launched into a series of quick strikes that reminded Axel of the way Delia used to fight.
Neeve was nimble, though, and quick to react, deflecting the Mage’s spells away and launching counter-attacks of her own. Axel dove into the line of fire, tucking into a forward roll to avoid getting hit by either of their spells. He scrambled to get back on his feet and started moving fast along the wall, blocking any stunning—or killing—spells that came his way.
The Mage tried to move between Axel and the door, but Neeve threw up another wall of black flames to block his path and keep him standing where he was; keep him directly in her line of fire.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said, in a low voice. “You’re mine.”
A shiver ran up Axel’s spine, and he made a mental note never to cross this particular Tribune as he made a dash for the door. It was unlocked, and opened easily. Beyond the door, in a dark room, laying on a table illuminated by a single bald light hanging above her, he saw Izzy. She was unconscious, the crown sitting softly on her head, and she was alone.
Axel had taken a few steps into the room when the door slammed shut behind him.
When Asmodius stepped into view, it was as if he’d manifested out of thin air. Axel knew this trick well, because he’d
used it himself before, many times, to obscure himself from the eyes of others. Asmodius had always been here, waiting beside her, but not even Becket’s demon had been able to see him.
That was a testament to Asmodius’ power.
Axel stood rooted to the spot and stared at his father from across the table on which Izzy lay. “I gave you a chance to give up,” Axel said.
“And I gave you a chance to leave,” Asmodius said. “And yet, here we both are.”
“Do you have any idea how stupid this is? The Magistrate is at your door, your forces are being beaten back, and you’re cornered. How do you think you’re going to get away from this one?”
Asmodius flicked his wrist and birthed a glowing sword of red-violet light to life. The sword hummed and crackled at first, then settled into a low drone as he gripped it with his right hand. Axel watched him bring the sword up, as if to threaten Izzy’s life. He took a step forward, but Asmodius brought the tip of the sword to hover just above Izzy’s neck.
“Do you think the Magistrate can touch me before I end her life?” Asmodius asked.
“Don’t you fucking dare touch her,” Axel growled.
“Why? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with this common thief. I like to think I taught you to have better standards than that.”
Axel felt that familiar anger start rising into his throat. “And what the hell would you know about love?”
“I don’t have to explain to you how your mother and I brought you into this world, do I? Or has your time with the merry men made you dumb as well as soft?”
Axel jabbed a finger at his father. “Don’t talk about my mother,” Axel snarled.
“Don’t hurt Isabella, don’t talk about your mother. I don’t think you quite understand how these games are played. Several times you’ve asked me to give up, to stop what I’m doing thinking I can find some kind of redemption if I would only do what you ask, but I seek no redemption. I only want what she can give me, and she’s going to give it to me, because so long as I stand here, you won’t move on me. You see, the founding principle of this game we’re playing is leverage; I have it, and you don’t. What you have ahead of you, however, is a choice.”
“I thought we were past choices.”
“We are past the choice you gave me, but you’ve arrived at a point where you have a decision to make. Likely the defining decision of your life.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You have put yourself on the other side of the battle line because you suddenly decided you had a conscience, and that conscience decided what I was doing was wrong. There was a time when you didn’t think this way.”
“I was ignorant to what you were really up to.”
“Perhaps, and that was my failing. I should’ve blooded you sooner. I should never have put you in charge of making sure this rat didn’t try anything stupid; especially considering what I wanted from her.”
“Her heart.”
“Who would’ve thought we both wanted the same thing from her?”
“Yeah, only I didn’t want to eat it.”
“And that’s your own fault. You don’t understand the kind of power you could have if only you followed the old ways. Why do you think it’s taken an entire Magistrate to hunt me down to the point where I’m—at least to your eyes—cornered with no way out? And why do you think I have the confidence to fight my way out of here if necessary?”
“Because you’re deluded and you think you’re better than you are. That’s always been one of your biggest flaws.”
“I’m sure there are others who would disagree with that.” Asmodius paused, then he circled the table where Izzy lay, coming out into the open and making himself more of a target. Axel had been searching for an opening this whole time, looking for something he could use to get an advantage over his father, and it looked like one had opened.
But that was only what it looked like. Axel knew he couldn’t take the bait, but he also knew he had to try. Otherwise, his father was right; the Magistrate had no hope of capturing him tonight. Keep him talking, Axel thought. Keep him talking, and make him take his eye off the ball for just a couple of seconds.
“So, what’s this decision I have to make?” Axel asked.
“Stand down,” Asmodius said, “Stand down, and I’ll spare her. I’ll spare all of them.”
“Bullshit.”
“Do you think I want her now? I have no use for her skills. She has the crown, and so long as she gives me what I want, I have no need to kill her. You must know I have never killed a person before for the simple sake of killing someone. I don’t get a thrill from ending a person’s life.”
“Again, bullshit. You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”
“I have been a lot of things in my life, but I have taught you the value of a man’s word. If I tell you I will spare them, I will do exactly that. But you must stand down. Now. End this fight while you can. I will take what I want from these people, and I will move on.”
Axel paused, and shook his head. “Even now, even after all this time, you still don’t know who I am, do you? You have no idea what kind of a son you raised.”
“The kind of son that abandons his family.”
“No,” Axel said, squeezing his left hand into a fist. “The kind of man who fights for the family he chooses.”
Axel slammed his hand against the wall he’d been slowly inching toward and sent an explosion of red-violet sparks flying into the room. The lightshow caught Asmodius off guard just long enough for Axel to summon his own crackling sword of light into his other hand, and in an instant, he was off, dashing toward his father with his sword in a downward arc.
But Asmodius caught the blow at the last second, and the two shimmering, magic swords clashed. With a hard shove, Asmodius separated himself from his son and gave himself a little room to maneuver, but Axel had now put himself between his father and Izzy. Axel lowered the sword, though its light bathed his body and danced across his face.
“I see you’ve picked up a few of my tricks,” Asmodius said.
“Just because I didn’t turn out the way you wanted me to doesn’t mean I didn’t learn what I needed to learn from you.”
“Summoning a psychic sword and knowing how to wield it effectively are two separate skillsets, my boy. How do you effectively balance a sword that weighs nothing? How do you move with it? How can you possibly trust it to block another sword of its kind?” Asmodius changed his stance, putting one foot forward and pointing the tip of his blade toward the floor. “I have spent years studying the art of swordplay. Have you?”
“Not really,” Axel said, twisting his body in just the right way to counter his father’s stance. “But I’m a quick learner.”
Asmodius scowled and launched into an attack, his sword shrieking through the air. Axel parried the blow, the moment of contact between both blades creating another light explosion. Father and son glared at each other in the crackling, red-violet glow of the swords in their hands, the light burning in their eyes like fireballs.
Axel growled and kicked his father squarely in the abdomen, sending Asmodius back a few paces. Pressing the advantage, Axel moved toward his father, swinging his sword in sharp, deadly arcs, each blow swifter, and more precise than the last. He was forcing his father to go on the defensive, forcing him to react to his attacks instead of allowing him a chance to throw strikes of his own.
Asmodius backed himself almost into a corner, pulling his sword up only to defend himself against his son’s attacks. When he did manage to strike, Axel was ready to parry the sword strike away or pull himself out of danger—only to press on once again until his father stumbled and fell flat on the floor.
Axel aimed the tip of his sword at his father’s neck. “You’re getting slow, old man,” Axel said, breathing a little heavily.
“Perhaps,” Asmodius said, raising his neck. “Or maybe I want to see if you have what it takes to kill a man while he’s down.”
; “I’m not going to kill you.”
“If you don’t kill me, I can promise you, I’ll kill you.”
“Doubtful. Your whole life you’ve talked about your legacy, the family name. You won’t kill the only heir to the family throne.”
A grin spread across Asmodius’ lips, the light from the glowing sword giving his face an even more sinister look. “I have time to make more heirs,” he said. “Maybe the next one won’t be as disappointing as you.”
The door to the room they were in suddenly swung open. For a mad moment, Axel thought his father’s reinforcements had arrived, but no, it was Neeve. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight unfolding before her.
“Axel…” Neeve said, disbelief in her eyes.
Asmodius hissed, and Axel felt the sting of psionic magic bite into his leg. He collapsed onto one knee, bleeding from the wound his father had left in him. Asmodius rolled to the side and quickly got to his feet. Neeve threw herself into the room, but Axel’s father reached for her mind with his own and wrapped his psychic tendrils around it.
Axel watched Neeve suddenly stop running, and her eyes roll into the back of her skull. “So, this is one of the Magistrate’s best Mages?” he asked. “I expected more from dear old Eliphas.”
“Let… her… go,” Axel growled.
“Why? What is she to you?” Asmodius turned his attention back onto his son. “Look at you. Did you really think you had the upper hand a moment ago? It would be laughable if it wasn’t also utterly sad. I’m going to take what I want from both of these women, and you’re going to watch.”
“Like hell you are,” came another voice from the door to the room. It was Karim. He was standing in the doorway with RJ and Danvers by his side.
“Put the weapon away and come quietly,” RJ said. “We won’t ask twice.”
Danvers cracked knuckles wreathed in magic fire.
Asmodius frowned, then the frown turned into a scowl, that became a furious roar. He drew his sword up into the air and brought it crashing down on Axel’s head, but he hadn’t expected his son to have backed up a couple of steps. His sword cut into empty air, then he staggered and fell forward, his eyes wide, his sword arm well out of position to strike—defenseless.
Heir to the Throne (The Wardbreaker Book 4) Page 13