Demon of Destruction (Fantastica Book 3)

by M. R. Mathias

  The other thing that happened was with all the pain and anguish, came a small revelation of knowledge and power from the jewel. Braxton didn't completely understand why it came, but he had learned enough to understand he was feeling the brutal nature of the jewel Taerak had spoken of, and with this horrible knowledge came power.

  That first night after hearing about Nixy’s capture, he dreamed that he was flying in his falcon form, over a mountain surrounded by an immense field of swaying green grass. Warm rain was falling, and he knew he was nowhere near Narvoza. Atop the mountain was an altar and standing before the altar was an elf with a staff that was pulling lightning from the sky. Several gothicans stood guard around the elf. Hundreds of green skinned beasts, ogres he thought, and as many of the strange looking evil men he remembered from Chureal’s homeland as darkons were all climbing up to get at those above them.

  He glanced down at the altar and just like the altar at the lake in the Wilderkind Forest, it was no place of worship, but a tomb. The slab covering it slid to the side and two amber glowing eyes glared back at him defiantly. When he met them, he was jolted from one scene to another.

  He was still flying, now as a great dragon out hunting for food to feed his brood. He was soaring over a vast, lush land full of herds of wild game, and when he returned to his lair, full of pride and joy, with enough meat to feed them all, he found the headless body of his mate laying in the cavern floor and saw that all of their hatchlings had been taken.

  When he woke screaming from the dragon's pain, he still felt a tear slide down the great wyrm's scaly cheek. It clattered on the floor because it had hardened into some sort of jewel as it fell. Braxton's waking grief and anguish was compounded a hundred-fold by the certain knowledge that Nixy and his unborn child were beyond his help.

  He could possibly save her, but to do so would be to doom the world for he didn't think he could save her and slay the demon both. It would be like trading hundreds of thousands of lives for hers and their unborn child’s.

  The impossibility of managing both was confirmed by his every instinct, both magical and natural.

  If he managed to save Nixy, Pharark would vent his rage over the loss on others. If he happened to die trying, the demon would gain the power of the jewel in his medallion, and maybe Chureal’s too, and that would be even more disastrous. Braxton eventually came to the conclusion that when he summoned Pharark, it would be his only chance to stop him, and if he failed, all was lost. In that moment, though, he just might be able to save Nixy, too.

  He understood perfectly he might have to sacrifice the woman he loved, and possibly himself, to save the world from the Pharark's wrath. He had no fear of losing his own life, and if he could trade his for Nixy's, he would do it in a heartbeat. Somehow, he had to steel himself against all of his emotions and go after Pharark as planned, though. It would take all of his concentration and attention, but he vowed that, if by chance a way to save Nixy revealed itself, without ruining the rest of the plan, he would take it.

  The cause of his tears was obvious, and he couldn't help but wonder if they would fall for all of eternity for he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she died, he would feel her loss that long.

  While in the void, he sat in the cavern by the lake where he’d found the jewel as he often had before. He called out for Taerak and waited for what seemed like hours, but Taerak never came. Braxton was forced to try and sort it all out himself. When he sought out that place where the ribbons of his emotion danced and whirled, what he found was so chaotic that he just left them alone to spin wildly through his head and heart. He decided that, if there was any chance at all to save Nixy and trap Pharark, they would have to act sooner rather than later. Surely the demon would get bored and kill Nixy if they waited until spring. Through Chureal, Davvy had given him information about Dendle's return and how the half-breed was sad and furious beyond reason over the loss of Captain Murdle, and now the gothican woman he had come to love.

  Dendle was about to march the few hundred allied gothicans who'd survived in Uppervale to Camberly and personally challenge the battle lord in a fight to the death. He didn’t care about their plans any more.

  This was surely a suicidal undertaking for all of them, but Braxton let it all slide away for a few moments and felt the emptiness of the void around him. It was in this suspended state of nothing that he decided what must be done, and once the decision was made, he reached out to Chureal to relay his orders to her so that she could tell Davvy and the dwarves.

  After he stepped out of the void, and back into the moment, he sent Big H to gather the dwarves he needed and hoped beyond hope that everything would come together fast enough to save Dendle and his gothicans from a certain death.

  It would be up to Braxton alone to try and find a way to save Nixy when he faced Pharark.

  The mighty gothican warrior, Writhick, had his legs crushed by Pharark when the demon attacked them in the pasture in Uppervale. He took his own life in traditional fashion for he chose to die rather than to live as a cripple.

  This left Dendle alone in the world once again. His father, his lover, and now his friends were all dead or gone. All of them killed by Pharark or his minions.

  Dendle didn't attend Writhick's ceremonial venture into death, but the gothican had told him some things that only took the half-breed's rage to a higher level. It also made him wary enough to proceed with at least a little caution.

  Dendle had to admit that Davvy had done a great job of trying to stall him and his mission of vengeance, but Dendle wasn't going to relent. He knew Lord Braxton's new plan would carry them all to Camberly immediately, but the ragtag army of dwarves, mercenaries, and farmers would have to run just to follow the wake Dendle and his group left behind them.

  Chureal and Cobalt had the riskiest assignment, which was merely to get back to where Braxton was, undetected. The young dragon had been injured in his tumble but was too proud and headstrong to let his wounds stop him from doing what had to be done. He was the only means they had to get Chureal back to the river bend hole and still allow her enough time to prepare for her part in the ordeal. Cobalt was more than eager to get his little rider safely underground with Lord Braxton, even if he had to be shrunken to the size of a pet again to do it.

  In the chaos of the two days that followed, Braxton found little time to let his mind wander, which was good. When it wandered, he thought of Nixy and the child she carried, which ultimately led to him having second thoughts about what he was going to do. Luckily, Cryelos was there, constantly doing whatever it took to keep him focused. This night, though, there was little the elf could do for Braxton because all the preparations had been completed, and Chureal and Cobalt were safely back underground at the river's bend near Camberly.

  Dendle and his gothicans wouldn't arrive until around dawn. Davvy and the dwarves were only a half-day behind him, and though not nearly enough dwarves had the time to get from the grand cavern to the river bend cavern, enough were there to keep Braxton from calling it off.

  Braxton's evening was long, and there was nothing to distract him from the horrible images of what might happen, what could be, and what might've been. The worst, though, was when he thought of what might go wrong. Mercifully, his exhaustion and a little help from Chureal sent him into a sound, dreamless slumber. And even though it was serene, he had the underlying notion it would be the last peaceful night of sleep he would ever have.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  King Craggon took it upon himself to great the traitorous gothicans that were coming toward them from Uppervale. He didn't trust Lord Ulrich to deal with them properly and was hungering for a fight, as were most of his rock trolls. When Dendle led his gothicans up to the edge of their encampment, their path was blocked by a wall of angry, gray-skinned vermin that looked like a row of carved stone statues standing in the snow.

  "Step aside, troll," said Dendle heatedly.

  "Who speaks?" Craggon asked crudely as he stepped forw
ard and lifted his giant wooden club. He rested the massive piece of timber on his shoulder.

  "Leave this place, troll," said Dendle, taking a few steps forward. "Go back to your mountains or die this day."

  Craggon took a few more steps forward and stood there defiantly. He was about to speak when Dendle suddenly dropped his blade and charged at him. Craggon's mouth spread into a jagged-toothed smile, and it looked as if he was going to make an example out of the smaller gothican.

  Dendle closed, leaning, his loping gait so far forward that his hands touched the snow.

  Craggon's expression turned to a look of confusion when Dendle's form shifted into that of a large, sleek feline.

  Though it looked like he wanted to, Craggon was too much of a warrior to turn and run.

  He took another few steps forward, and as Dendle leapt toward him, he swung his massive club at the cat as hard as he could.

  While in midair, Dendle's panther-like form twisted around the blow, and he managed to rake his claws across Craggon's side. Without stopping, he landed fluidly and spun around for another attack.

  The startled rock trolls didn't know what to do, and neither did the gothicans who had been following Dendle. It was a one-on-one battle, and though both groups stood poised and ready to charge into each other, they all waited and watched as the fight unfolded before them.

  From where he was, Braxton couldn't see what Dendle was getting into, but he knew he could do nothing to help his friend. Until Davvy and the others arrived, he was helpless. If he made a move now, it would give away his hidden position and spoil the surprise, and surprise was the only true advantage they had.

  Dendle was in the air and almost on the troll king's back before Craggon even turned all the way around to face him. There was no time to raise his club in defense, and the strange panther-like creature slashed its claws across the troll's ugly gray face, then sank its white fangs into his shoulder and shook his head as his momentum carried him past. When the two separated this time, a mouthful of Craggon's shoulder had been ripped from his body, and his eyes and nose were nothing but blood-filled gashes. When the king of the rock trolls fell to his knees, he let out a long, horrible roar, the sound gurgling out of his shredded face.

  The entire encampment was awake now, and gothicans were streaming out of Camberly’s east gate trying to see what was going on. Braxton's heart sank, for this was exactly what he had been trying to avoid. The rock trolls behind their dying king suddenly were not as confident as they had been. Stories of the dragon rider and the cat man and the boy who had killed Krookin Bloodthorn had been circulating through their ranks for weeks.

  The dark, horse-sized feline circled Craggon. His face was a bloody mess and only one wide eye filled with rage and fear showed through the gore. His good arm still held his giant club and, somehow, he managed to raise it over his head and get back to his feet.

  "Fight," he yelled, sending a spray of blood across the snow in front of him.

  Had Dendle been a cowardly hearted creature, he might have made his move to finish the mighty troll king from behind, but he wasn't. He was a man of honor, a creature of honor, so he came around to the front and made his move, hard and fast.

  With both sets of claws, he reared up before the giant troll. His paws moved faster than the eye could see, and even though Craggon's club struck him with a savage, cracking blow, Dendle tore dozens of deep furrows across his opponent's chest and abdomen.

  Dendle felt the pain of the blow, but it was somewhere in the recess of his being. Like the beast he was fighting, he let out a furious growl that sent the rock trolls behind their king scrambling back through the encampment, trampling anything and anyone in their path. Lord Ulrich was coming out of the east gate now angrily calling out orders while most of the rock trolls made their way toward the forest.

  No sooner did Lord Ulrich's army seem to come together, shaping into some semblance of a battle-ready force, did the rock trolls stop their flight. By the dozens, the confused and fearful mountain vermin began backing out of the woods. It looked as if they were searching for an escape, but there was none behind them save for the mighty Vasting River to the south. To the west, most of Lord Ulrich's gothican warriors stood, and to the east was the dark creature who had just killed their king. And now coming quickly up the road behind the deadly beast and his troop of gothicans, there were at least a thousand dwarves and humans.

  Most surprising was what was coming out of the forest from the north. Their unexpected appearance shocked everyone, especially Lord Ulrich and Braxton.

  At least a thousand gothicans wearing bright red sashes from shoulder to hip came out of the woods with their weapons drawn. Braxton saw they were being led by Writhick's brother, Karthick who had disappeared off to the north with Skalab and Tarthin, seeking aid months ago.

  Dendle wasn't surprised, though. While ranging through the mountains after the passing of Captain Murdle, he'd run into them. His plan was for them and his group to kill Lord Ulrich and urge all of the gothicans clear of Camberly before Lord Braxton called on the demon. It was not to be, though, for the death of Balo, and then Writhick, had ruined his ploy as well as snuffed out any hope within him. Now, wounded by the troll king's club, he couldn't even call out Lord Ulrich as he had intended.

  Karthick, though, shocked them all when he brazenly strode through Ulrich's stunned and parting encampment and stopped no less than twenty paces from the battle lord.

  "You'll be proud to know, Father, that your demon god maimed your son Writhick. My brother took his own life rather than live on ruined." He spat at Lord Ulrich’s feet. "You have reduced yourself to a disgrace. I have no choice left but to kill you. It is the only way our family can live on among our people with any semblance of honor."

  His father? Braxton thought as he watched from his hiding place in the mouth of a dwarf hole not a hundred paces from them. He’d never met Writhick or Karthick, but Davvy had relayed messages to him of how they and Prince Gruval protected Uppervale. He was pretty sure that even Davvy didn't know Karthick and Writhick were Lord Ulrich's sons.

  This is all wrong, Braxton thought, as he calculated where everyone stood, compared to what had been planned. He sighed in frustration for there was nothing he could do about it now. He could only play it by the moment and hope things didn't get any further out of whack. Already, a thousand unexpected gothicans who were here to stand against the demon's army might die, if only because they were standing in the wrong place and not aware of what was about to happen.

  Davvy might as well have been reading Braxton's mind. He forced his way through Dendle's group of gothicans, stepped up beside the doubled-over half-breed, who was now in his normal form. He took in the gory sight laying in the snow in front of him with wide-eyed astonishment.

  "Are you all right?" Davvy asked Dendle.

  "I'll live," said Dendle between clenched teeth. "You're not the only one who can kill a troll king, you know."

  "Can you get word to your people over there?" Davvy pointed toward the red-sashed gothicans who had stepped out of the Gothful Forest. "They are in grave danger."

  "Karthick will fight his father, to keep his honor," Dendle said. "There may yet be time."

  "Then we'd better hurry, because once Braxton gives the signal, there is no turning back and if they do not move away, a good distance away from where they are now, they will be caught in his trap."

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For a little while it looked as though an all-out war might be avoided, but as Karthick Gruel and his father started to fight each other, some of the rock trolls made another break toward the Gothful Forest. This was quickly blocked by Karthick's red sashed gothicans.

  Lord Ulrich's warriors mistook the trolls attempt to flee as an attack and joined the charge. By then, it was too late to stop it. Within minutes, all-out war was underway.

  In all directions, and from all sides, battle broke out as Karthick's red-sashed warriors and hundreds of Davvy's
dwarves and allied gothicans charged into the encampment. From the tops of the primary walls in the city, and from the windows of the towers and spires that rose above them, people could be heard cheering.

  It was the sound of those voices coming from Camberly that drew Braxton's attention to the Ancestor's Dream. Once upon a time seeing the glorious work of art had filled him with wonder and pride, but now it seemed as out of place as Chureal had when he first found her. Humanity had tricked and enslaved the people who lived here. They slowly ran them off their rightful land into the mountains ruled by the rock trolls. Pharark only played upon what was already there. He didn't have to plant any seeds of hatred. All the demon had to do was water them and nurse them along, and for what?

  Braxton looked out across the already bloody battlefield, wondering. He remembered Taerak's writing, or maybe it was his words from a dream, saying that Pharark was the Demon of Destruction and he fed on fear and misery. And with that memory, he had his answer.

  Braxton steeled himself to put aside all of his personal feelings. He could stop the madness unfolding before him if he destroyed the demon. He knew Nixy would understand, but he couldn't find a way to excuse what was coming to an unborn child.

  Braxton scanned the red-stained battlefield looking for where Davvy was supposed to be, but he saw nothing but death. It would be useless to summon the demon if no one was in place, and hundreds, if not thousands, were about to die just because they were in the way. He was just about to reach into the void so he could fly as the white falcon around the battlefield to see where things stood when a single arrow came down out of the sky and landed less than three feet in front of the hidden dwarf hole where he was hiding.