Blinded by Power: 5 (The Death Wizard Chronicles)

by Jim Melvin

  40

  SEEING INVICTUS WITH the black dragon had chilled Laylah’s heart, reminding her again how precariously close she was to returning to a life of perverse imprisonment. But when Bhayatupa appeared, her hopes were renewed.

  Then Navarese gave the order for an all-out attack, further bolstering her resolve. Only when she was engaged in the frenzy of battle was she able to stop obsessing over her brother. Now she understood how Rajinii had felt during the fight with the druids. In some cases dying was better than living—especially the kind of quick, violent death that mortal combat seductively promised to deliver.

  Izumo carried Laylah through the shield wall and into a sea of chaos. Newborns were everywhere, but they lacked direction, scattering like humongous herds of sheep threatened by wolves. Wherever Bhayatupa struck, hundreds of newborns were incinerated.

  To Laylah’s utmost delight, Torg appeared from out of the tumult and rode over to her, the Silver Sword coated with several varieties of blood. Even Bhojja’s jade-colored coat was stained, though both the wizard and mare appeared fresh as ever.

  “My love!” said the wizard, his voice hopeful. “Did you see?”

  “Bhayatupa has come to our aid, as strange as that seems.”

  “Yes. But Laylah, did you see? Look at the flames! The dragon’s crimson is tinged with blue.”

  And then Laylah and Torg gasped in unison as a horde of creatures, each even larger and more dangerous than a newborn, charged past. Beyond hope, the Daasa had joined them.

  The wizard laughed, warming the sorceress’s heart.

  “Come, we will fight the enemy together. Many of us will die. But if this is the end of all things, then at least we will put on quite a show.”

  Even as Torg spoke, he and Laylah were joined by Rajinii, Lucius, Bonny, Ugga, Elu, and Manta the necromancer.

  “Can we come with ya?” said the crossbreed, his small eyes full of fire. “The little guy wants me to steer da horsey so that he can do more killing.”

  The Svakaran, still strapped to Ugga’s broad back, twisted his head around and smiled through the open visor of his helm. Then he waved his Tugarian dagger menacingly. “Elu has slain a dozen already.”

  “My friends, you are all welcome to ride with me,” Torg shouted. “Death awaits any who oppose us.”

  NOT SINCE THE heyday of Supanna-Sangaamaani (the Dragon Wars), which had occurred countless millennia ago, had Bhayatupa felt so alive. How ironic that Death—the thing he had he feared most—would turn out to be such a marvelous event. In addition to his already formidable magic, he now was bursting with Death Energy. Crimson and blue flooded his sinews. And even better, relief as vast as the cosmos had replaced the mental anguish he had endured for tens of thousands of years.

  During Bhayatupa’s first encounter with Torg beneath the southern gates of Avici, the wizard had attempted to enlighten him. But Bhayatupa had been too arrogant to listen. Now he couldn’t wait to go somewhere peaceful with the Death-Knower and enjoy a long conversation. If Bhayatupa had learned so much in one Death Visit, imagine how much The Torgon had learned in a thousand. They could talk for days. After all, Bhayatupa knew a few things himself. How marvelous it would be to share tales with an ally, instead of trying to coerce information from an enemy.

  But first, there was the matter of Mala’s army, and even more significantly, the sorcerer. While these two foes still existed, there would be no time for chats. And though the Chain Man might be beatable, the Sun God probably wasn’t. Even this did not dismay Bhayatupa. What was the worst thing Invictus could do? Kill him? So what? He would die anyway, whether now or a hundred millennia from now. What did it matter? His karma would carry on.

  As he’d left behind the battered carcass of Ulaara and flown back toward the battlefield, a raven had appeared out of nowhere just a stone’s throw to his right, struggling to keep up.

  “Not now, Vedana,” he’d said. “I have better things to do than listen to your chatter. I have destroyed the creature I hated most. But two others remain that I also despise.”

  “There’s something you need to know.”

  “Let me guess. Does it involve your ‘plan’?”

  The raven began to fall back. Suddenly it vanished, and Vedana reappeared, in her old woman incarnation, on the base of his neck.

  Bhayatupa growled. Crimson flames, laced with tendrils of blue, spewed from his nostrils. “I will tolerate you just a few more moments, demon. Say what you have to say, and then be gone.”

  “Phew! I liked you better before you died. I’ve never been able to stomach the smell of Death Energy.”

  “Speak quickly!”

  “Oh, very well. Yes, it does involve my plan. Which can still work. In fact, is working quite well. But your role is not yet finished.”

  “If it involves decimating Mala’s army, then I will play it. Otherwise, get away from me.”

  “That’s exactly it, Mahaasupanno! For once we’re in agreement. Very well, I will leave you. But you must act quickly. Invictus is already on his way, and when my grandson returns to the battlefield, he will be none too pleased.”

  Then Vedana had vanished.

  Bhayatupa had been glad to see her go. Then he swept over the battlefield, spewing death.

  Eventually he came upon The Torgon and Faerie in a clearing that was surrounded by newborns. Nearby was the despicable Mala, wielding a trident imbued with Invictus’s magic. In addition, the Chain Man bore another weapon somewhere on his body that was too tiny for Bhayatupa to see clearly from the air. Whatever it was gave him a sick feeling in his stomach, but there was no time to puzzle it out. He flew low and unleashed a torrent of crimson-blue fire.

  Mala was cast forward onto his face.

  Bhayatupa considered destroying the ruined snow giant then and there, but now was not the time. Even without Mala at its helm, the Chain Man’s army was too great for the Death-Knower and his allies to defeat. Bhayatupa needed to weaken it further before they would have a chance. Which was fine by him. He could think of nothing more pleasant than killing as many of the enemy as possible. It would be as if the ancient times had returned, when he had ruled from the skies.

  Bhayatupa ascended a few hundred fathoms and then fell upon his foes. When he had fought some of these same monsters during his escape from Avici, he had not been as strong as he was now. Nor had he had support from the ground. The Torgon and his allies responded to his assault, attacking with renewed enthusiasm. And there was something else: the ferocious creatures known as the Daasa had joined the fray. Vedana had told him a little about them when she originally described her “plan.” Now what the dragon saw impressed him. The Daasa swarmed over the transformed newborns like floodwaters unleashed on an unsuspecting plain.

  Still, the enemy was vast, and it was impossible for Bhayatupa to slay every one. He endured blasts of magic from Warlish witches and Stone-Eaters, but at least this time the Kojins and trolls weren’t hurling boulders at him.

  A bolt of golden energy leapt up to greet him, and he barely managed to avoid it. Bhayatupa turned just in time to see the Chain Man aim the trident at him again and fire another blast. Bhayatupa also avoided the second assault, yet the heat radiated by the beam still staggered him as it rocketed past his ribcage, missing him by the length of one of his fangs. Bhayatupa veered away, the intensity of Mala’s power amazing him. If he had been struck directly, he might not have survived. Bhayatupa was not the only one who was stronger than before. The Chain Man also wielded new might.

  For the first time since his return from death, Bhayatupa was dismayed. It was bad enough that Invictus was so powerful. Was his despicable servant also invincible? If so, then his efforts to aid The Torgon would be in vain. Bhayatupa had to think of something that would turn the tide. He circled above the battlefield. Far below, Mala stormed from place to place, his trident aglow. Something else glowed, as well.

  A ring?

  Whatever it was disturbed Bhayatupa immensely.

&nb
sp; It was so familiar.

  In a sudden burst of revelation, Bhayatupa comprehended the truth. The ring contained the essence of the one female dragon he had ever loved.

  Only Invictus had the power to craft such an abomination.

  “Carūūldassana,” Bhayatupa howled. “GaЇhissāmi veramÈ te kālakiriyamÈ. TamÈ patisuЇāmi. (I will avenge your death. I promise thee.)”

  41

  THOUGH MALA, through the power of his will, drove the newborns to maim and devour, Bhayatupa’s aerial assaults had still thrown them into disarray. With Laylah at his side, Torg seized the opportunity to display his full array of powers, unleashing wicked blasts of blue-green fire that obliterated dozens of monsters at a time.

  It took Torg several moments to realize he was howling, as were Laylah and his other companions. The sorceress swung Obhasa back and forth, and from its rounded head came sizzling bolts of blue-white power, incinerating anything they touched. The jade jewel imbedded on the head of Rajinii’s and Manta’s oaken staffs spewed rivers of green flame almost as deadly as that from Obhasa. Ugga’s mighty ax struck as quickly as a saber, and not even the newborns’ metallic flesh could withstand it. The Tugars also attacked with a determination that defied description. Though still outnumbered three to one, the forces of good swelled forward, relying on the panic of their foes to breed even more.

  Cave trolls were beheaded, Stone-Eaters stabbed through their hearts, witches hacked in two. The lesser monsters—vampires, ghouls, ogres, and the few remaining druids—were no match for such ferocity, and the pirates and wild men were swept aside like children. For every slain Jivitan, five of the enemy had fallen. And for every slain Tugar, fifty of the enemy were destroyed.

  Yet wherever Mala appeared, the newborns and other monsters regrouped and fought again with ferocity. The Chain Man also unleashed his full array of powers, and none could stand against him, not even the Tugars. Great numbers of corpses, including desert warriors, lay in tangled heaps throughout the battlefield.

  Torg knew it was up to him to eliminate Mala. If he could slay the Chain Man, victory could be achieved.

  “Asēkhas . . . to your king!” he cried, and within a few short breaths Kusala and the others encircled him.

  Laylah remained at his side. “What are you doing?” she shouted above the tumult.

  “I must confront Mala,” Torg said. “There is no other way.”

  “Not without me!”

  “Or me!” said Rajinii, Manta, Ugga, and Elu in unison.

  Torg smiled. “Very well. We will fight him together.” Then he patted Bhojja on her bare crest. “It is time. Lead us to the Chain Man.”

  In response, Bhojja reared on her hindquarters and scissor-kicked her forelegs in the air. Even without a saddle, Torg had no difficulties remaining on her back. The great mare snorted loudly, then dropped onto all fours and charged into a dense throng of newborns, shoving them aside with little effort.

  The others followed behind Torg as best they could, but Bhojja quickly outdistanced them. Suddenly, they came to another clearing. Mala stood within it. The remaining Kojin, a dozen witches, and at least that many Stone-Eaters flanked the Chain Man, but they didn’t seem to notice Torg. Instead, they were facing the other direction, looking up at Bhayatupa, whose mountainous body hovered above them.

  Torg wasn’t sure whether to attack immediately or wait to see what occurred, but Bhojja surprised him by bolting forward in a mad rush. Mala was so intent on the dragon, he didn’t hear Torg’s approach until he was almost upon him. The Kojin tried to block their way, but Bhojja slipped past the ogress just as Torg swept the Silver Sword at the Chain Man’s neck. The two-handed blow would have decapitated any other creature on Triken, save Invictus himself, but Mala was fast even by the Death-Knower’s standards, raising the trident and catching the cutting edge of the blade on the thickest portion of the staff. Where the supernal sword met the golden trident there was a violent explosion.

  Torg managed to retain his grip on the black leather hilt, but he was cast from Bhojja’s back and thrown at least thirty cubits, landing hard on his side on the stamped-down grass. Stunned by the intensity of the conflagration, Torg sat up dizzily, only to see the calloused underside of a cave troll’s foot coming toward his face. Torg braced to receive the blow, but it never came. Instead, the foot leapt off the ankle and tumbled sideways, while the troll collapsed onto its knees. Kusala finished what he started with a wicked thrust to the beast’s heart.

  Meanwhile, Podhana and Churikā helped Torg to stand. Across the clearing, Torg saw the Kojin assisting Mala. Apparently the clash of weapons had also staggered the Chain Man, but Torg was dismayed to see that the trident remained intact. So too did the Silver Sword. Both weapons were great, but neither great enough, apparently, to destroy the other.

  A crush of bodies swept between Torg and Mala, partially blocking Torg’s view of the Chain Man. Still hovering above them all was Bhayatupa, his eyes ablaze. The Stone-Eaters spat molten balls of sputum into the palms of their hands and cast them at the dragon, but they fell short. The few remaining witches appeared afraid to do anything but stare, knowing they were no match for the greatest dragon to ever exist. A few Mogols dared to loose fiery arrows, but of course they caused Bhayatupa no harm. Soon after, the Asēkhas took down these mountain savages with beads to their eyes.

  “We are with you, lord,” Torg heard Kusala say.

  Torg shook the dizziness from his head. “Where is Bhojja?”

  “When you and Mala collided, a flare of fire blinded all who looked upon it. When I could see again, the jade mare had vanished, as if consumed.”

  Then a horse thundered up, not as large as Bhojja but huge, nonetheless. Torg recognized Izumo, with Laylah on his back. Despite wearing full armor, the sorceress clambered off the high saddle on her own. Then she raised the visor of her helm.

  “Let’s kill the bastard,” Laylah said grimly.

  Side by side the pair strode toward Mala, who again had become preoccupied with Bhayatupa. Something was transpiring between the two of them that Torg could not discern. As if exhausted, the ruined snow giant was leaning against Vikubbati.

  “Mala,” Torg shouted, surprising even himself with the extent of his anger. “It is time we finish this!”

  A thunderous “No!” filled the air, so loud that it caused even Torg to cringe. “He is not for you, Death-Knower,” Bhayatupa said. “Stand back!”

  The dragon’s vehemence terrorized even the Kojin, who covered her bulbous face with all six hands and backed away. Until now, Torg’s interactions with Bhayatupa had been antagonistic, but he sensed something in the dragon’s tone that transcended anger. Whatever was about to happen, not even Torg had the ability to stop.

  42

  AS MALA STARED into Bhayatupa’s eyes, he remembered their last encounter in the mountains west of Kamupadana, when the dragon had nearly killed him. Now he stood before Bhayatupa again, but this time he bore Vikubbati and Carūūl. Mala knew that he should raise the trident and strike, but something held him back. It was as if he were hypnotized. And though Vikubbati and his golden chain continued to glow fervently, the ring had gone cold.

  No . . . not cold.

  Icy.

  And it burned his finger like frozen fire.

  Mala sensed more than heard a disturbance behind him. When he turned ever so slightly, he saw the damnable wizard approaching on the jade mare—and then the Silver Sword slashing at his throat. With reflexes surpassed by few who ever lived, Mala blocked the wizard’s horizontal stroke with his trident—but not without a price. The collision spewed blobs of energy in all directions. Mala was knocked to the ground for the second time that day—only this one stunned him even worse than the dragon’s first ambush.

  The remaining Kojin rushed to his aid, using all six of her powerful arms to haul Mala to his feet. But when Mala’s vision cleared, he didn’t like what he saw. Bhayatupa again hovered above him, only much nearer. Each slow stroke of
his wings blew hot gusts across the floor of the plain. Mala prepared to unleash the power of the trident and blow the dragon to pieces, but Bhayatupa’s hypnotic stare froze him in place.

  Then the wizard was behind him again. “Mala! It is time we finish this!”

  “No!” the dragon bellowed. “He is not for you, Death-Knower. Stand back!”

  Suddenly, Bhayatupa pounced, landing on the grass and whipping his long neck forward. There was a cracking sound, loud as a tree splintered by the fall of another, and then the dragon was chomping down on Mala’s left hand. He felt his flesh tear and bones shatter, and then the dragon raised his head high into the sky and swallowed both the hand and the ring. Foul-smelling blood sprayed from the stump of Mala’s forearm.

  He pressed the stump against his red-hot chain, searing the flesh.

  But the resultant agony forced him to his knees.

  The pain was so great he released his grip on Vikubbati.

  MALA’S SEVERED hand, still bearing the ring on its middle finger, tumbled down Bhayatupa’s throat. The ferocious acids in the dragon’s stomach immediately dissolved the flesh and bone, then went to work on the multicolored metal. A bombardment of power exploded inside Bhayatupa’s body, threatening to burst him asunder. But he had no intention of retaining the fire long enough for it to be lethal.

  When Mala released Vikubbati, the Kojin reached out, grabbed the trident with her upper-right hand, and held it aloft. It was the worst mistake the ogress ever made. Bhayatupa lowered his snout within a single cubit of the tines and unleashed the fire that was burning in his stomach. In an instant, the Kojin—despite being one of the most powerful creatures to walk the world—was incinerated, and the force of the deluge drove the tail of the trident into the ground, pinning it like a post.

  Bhayatupa continued to rain fury on Vikubbati. His strength—combined with Death Energy, the essence of Carūūldassana, and the magic of Invictus that had been contained in the ring—eventually proved too much for the enormous weapon. The golden trident twisted, sagged, and melted.