by Tony Donadio
Gerard cursed. His wand snapped desperately to cast a spell to protect her. Kay’s last arrow hit the demon in the back and bounced off, unable to pierce its leathery hide.
Ashrach raised its sword and prepared to strike. Stefan braced himself for the attack, but he knew the gesture was futile. The great sword would kill them both with a single blow.
A large, disembodied silver hand appeared before the demon and stiff-armed it in the face. The monster’s head snapped backward with a loud crack, and it dropped its sword. The hand wrapped itself around the creature’s throat and lifted it from the ground. It surged forward, carrying Ashrach through the air and away from the princess. Then it slammed its head, hard, into the stone of the walkway.
Kay leaped from her stone bench, dropping her bow. She needed another weapon. Her eyes swept around the corpse-choked battlefield, searching frantically …
The remaining demon tore the throat from a guard and dropped her lifeless body to the ground. It turned to face the last soldier, who was still struggling back to his feet. It charged.
Panicked, the man grasped at a long, metal spear that lay beside him. It was a demon weapon, and its shaft glowed with a dull, red light. Desperately, he planted the butt into the ground to stave off the charging monster.
The demon didn’t even slow down. It lowered its head and gored the man, even as the spear struck into its chest. With a trumpeting roar it lifted him from his feet, impaled on its tusks.
Slowly, deliberately, the monster grabbed the spear with a gorilla-like hand. It tore the weapon from its torso and threw it away. Then it shook its elephantine head. The wound in its chest sprayed black ichor as the man flew free. He landed a dozen feet away, unmoving.
The demon looked around. It saw Stefan and Randia, standing, alone and unprotected, less than a dozen yards away. It lowered its head and stumbled toward them, tusks extended.
Gerard’s eyes went wide as he saw the demon charge his sister. Frantically, desperately, he groped for the power to cast another spell …
Stefan’s wrist flicked. Randia’s knife flew from his hand and embedded itself in the monster’s face. Its head reared back and it staggered, black blood fountaining from where its left eye had been only moments before.
“Your Highness!” Kay cried. “Look out!”
She rose, grasping the hilt of the weapon she had just retrieved. Then she raced toward the prince with every bit of speed she could muster. She had to reach him in time …
Gerard summoned a bolt of magic and sent it streaking toward the monster. The blast took it in the temple. Fragments of its elephant-like head exploded into the air in a puff of red-black smoke. It skidded sideways, and then crashed to the ground.
Randia turned toward her brother with a smile of relief. Then she screamed.
“Gerard! Behind you!”
Gerard turned to see the point of a spear. It was the one the other monster had torn from its chest only moments before, and its shaft glowed with demonic runes. Behind it stood Ashrach, the bull-demon’s face lost in a smear of gore. It stabbed at the prince with all the strength left in its remaining arm.
“Karach!” it cried.
Dark magic flared as the weapon struck. Gerard’s fiery armor flared brilliantly, but its strength had been spent. He felt the spell shatter as the weapon plunged into his chest …
~
Ashrach yanked the spear free and prepared to strike again. It saw the look of horror on Randia’s face and grinned in triumph. Without the prince to defend them, the others would be easy to kill or capture. And then it would take all the glory for itself …
~
Kay leaped on the monster from behind. Her left hand grabbed one of its bull horns and pulled back its head. Her right arm reached around, weapon in hand. With a snarl, she drew the blade across its throat.
Flamebane flashed as it sliced through the demon’s hide. Ichor fountained from the massive wound as the enchanted blade opened its neck to the bone. She jumped aside as Ashrach fell onto its ruined face — and then with a series of swift, brutal strokes, hacked the monster’s head from its body.
When she was done she turned to the others. Gerard had managed to stagger underneath what remained of the gazebo, where he’d collapsed. Randia knelt beside him, Stefan at her shoulder. She was cradling her brother’s head in her lap, crying uncontrollably.
Hideout
Orion stepped carefully through the ruined entrance to the house. Splinters of what remained of the door lay scattered around the foyer. It was eerily quiet inside.
“The demons hit this place earlier,” he declared grimly. “Probably as part of that sweep to herd people toward the battle.”
Diana nodded. She looked at the path and garden around the entrance. It had been trampled by large feet, many with claws or hooves. The destruction continued through the home in a line of gouged walls and broken furniture, and finally exited out the back door.
The house was built into the side of Cherry Hill, which seemed to have avoided the fires. Despite the damage it was still in surprisingly good condition.
“They smashed the door,” she offered. “Then they drove whoever was hiding here out the back and along the streets with the rest.”
She turned to look at him. “We should search for survivors.”
Orion frowned.
“I doubt anyone could have hidden from a demon pack,” he said. “But someone might have taken refuge here afterward. Let’s look around.”
They did. It took only a couple of minutes to confirm that the house was deserted.
Their search ended when they descended a set of stone steps into a basement larder. It was cool, and seemed to have been built into a small recess in the rock on the southern side of the hill. The outer wall was of brick, and had a single, elaborately curtained window.
Orion walked up to it, drew the valence aside a few inches, and peered cautiously out. After a minute he stepped away and looked thoughtfully at Diana.
“This looks like as good a place to hide as any,” he said at last. “This wall’s set on the edge of the hill, and the window has an excellent view of the city. We’ll be able to keep track of what’s going on outside. There’s food and drink, and we should be able to get some rest.”
Diana looked toward the window. “Can we get out that way?” she asked nervously. “I’m not keen on being trapped here if something comes down the stairs.”
Orion nodded. “It’s large enough for both of us to climb through, if we have to. And there are a few feet of grass before the edge of the hill, so we won’t fall. But I don’t think anything will come looking for us. The demons have already been through here, and done … what they planned.”
“Drive the people toward their staged massacre,” Diana said. Her throat ached with dryness, and her voice came out raspy and harsh.
At the thought of finally being able to rest, she abruptly found herself swaying with exhaustion. Orion caught her as she sagged, and helped her to sit on a box of vegetables. He looked anxiously at the red stain that had spread across the left side of her blouse.
“Easy,” he said. “I think the demon hit you pretty hard. You’re losing a lot of blood.”
She nodded, putting her head in her hands. “I feel dizzy all of a sudden,” she said weakly.
He straightened.
“Stay here,” he said. “We both have wounds that need to be tended to, but I don’t think mine are as bad as yours. There should be some bandages upstairs, and maybe some salves. I’ll fetch them, and some cushions for us to rest on.”
She grabbed at his arm as he started to move away. “No!” she said.
He turned back to her, surprised. The gesture had seemed involuntary, and she looked at him sheepishly.
“We shouldn’t separate,” she said finally.
“It’s all right. I won’t be long, and I won’t be far.”
“Of course. You’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He gave her a small smile. “Shock,” he said. There was just a hint of a conspiratorial glint in his eye. “From the blood loss, no doubt.”
She managed to grin at him despite feeling nauseated. “No doubt,” she agreed.
~
Diana put her head back in her hands as Orion climbed swiftly up the stairs. What was wrong with her? she thought. Wounds or no wounds, fear of being left alone wasn’t like her. Had it really just been shock setting in, once the stress of running and fighting had finally subsided? She supposed so.
She thought about Orion as he searched the house for bandages and medicine. They’d been partners since the moment they met on the wall at the Grand Academy, and he’d been a steadying presence throughout the chaos of the day’s events. She had friends among the other young nobles at the palace, of course. But with her blunt tongue and independent streak, she had never been much of a “team player.” Their impromptu partnership had formed so naturally that she hadn’t had time to realize until now how unusual that was for her.
Still, it was no excuse to let herself go soft all of a sudden. What would her father say?
The sound of footsteps brought her out of her reverie. She lifted her head to see Orion struggling down the stone stairs. He had several blankets thrown over one shoulder, and was carrying a large, bulging bag in the other. He grinned as he strode over to her and set his burdens down with an audible exhalation of breath.
“We’re in luck,” he said as he started rummaging through the supplies. “The owners of the house had a variety of medicines, as well as clean bandages.”
Diana looked on with interest as he brought out the contents of the bag. She picked up a tin of ointment, unscrewed the top, and sniffed. Her eyes lit up.
“Tranzalin,” she said approvingly. “One of the best healing salves there is.”
He looked at her in surprise. “It sounds like you know your medicines. I was afraid I was going to have to guess at how to use these.”
She shook her head. She lifted another bottle, and then another. “Tincture of deathsbane. And if I’m not mistaken, this is a small vial of regenera. You’re right that we’re in luck. These will do the trick.”
He smiled. “Where did you learn so much about medicinal alchemy?” he asked.
She put down the bottles and stood. She began to undo her blouse.
“My mother taught me. Here, help me get this thing off so we can clean the cut on my chest. We’ll need to start with a wet cloth.”
She was halfway through the laces before she realized that he hadn’t moved. She looked at him curiously, an inquisitive glint growing in her green eyes. His face colored visibly, and he tried to look away.
“I, um —”
She started laughing.
“You’re so funny, Orion. You can battle demons to the death one minute, and then you blush at a girl taking off her shirt the next. Everything we’ve braved together today, and this is what you blanch at!”
He gave her a sheepish smile. She went back to unlacing her blouse.
“I’ll need you to clean and dress the wound,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Or it’ll become infected. Nalef raked me from my back all the way across my chest. I’m not sure how deep it is, but it burns like hell.”
He looked grimly at the torn blouse as he stood at her side. She finished with the laces and slid it gingerly from her shoulders. She wore a white camisole below it, which was slashed as well. The fabric around the slashes was soaked with blood.
“You got that saving my life,” he said softly.
She turned to look at him. She tried to focus on his face, but her eyes were suddenly blinking with tears. Without warning she found her head buried in his shoulder, her chest heaving with sobs.
Orion folded his arms around her gently and squeezed his eyes shut. They held each other for a time, shuddering and crying together, the tension of their shared nightmare releasing itself in an uncontrolled flood of tears.
Chapter 18 - Last Hope
Fall’s Vigil
Elena Starlight stepped unsteadily through the door to the wizards’ lab. Danor ran to her side and caught her as she sagged into his arms. He carried her to a chair and set her down in it.
“Are you all right, my love?” he asked. His voice was raw with worry and exhaustion.
She nodded.
“It is done. The apprentices and I have completed the ward. The dragons will no longer be able to approach the palace.”
As if on cue to demonstrate her words, a series of loud thudding noises sounded outside the tower. They were followed by the roar of the monsters echoing along the slopes of the mountain, screaming in pain and rage.
Lord Rugon knelt at the Queen’s other side. “Thank the Light,” he said earnestly.
The King took her hand and held it. “Are you all right?” he asked again, insistently.
“No, but it doesn’t matter. The spell took everything I had, Danor. My power is all but spent.”
“But you’ll recover, Your Highness?” Lord Rugon asked. “Won’t you?”
She looked at him and shook her head. “We won’t live long enough for that,” she said simply.
Then her eyes hardened.
“How did this happen, Cyrus?” she asked fiercely. “We left Palanad and Salmanor both to defend the palace. They should have cast this ward. And now they’re dead? And Darden by your own hand?”
Lord Rugon squeezed his eyes shut.
“I don’t understand it,” he said. “The high priest was mad. He murdered Mage Lantar, right before our eyes. He raved about surrender and becoming slaves to the demons, and then turned his own magic against us. If I hadn’t —”
His voice choked off, and he bowed his head. The King laid a supportive hand on his shoulder.
“It wasn’t your fault, Cyrus,” he said. “We heard it from Augustus Darren himself. The high priest left orders that we were to be abandoned by the Church. There’s no doubt what happened. He was corrupted by the Dark.”
Elena shook her head. “It still doesn’t make sense,” she said softly. “Why did he prosecute Zomoran, if he was in league with the demons?”
Danor squeezed her hand.
“I fear we have no time left to try to solve that puzzle, my love,” he said. “Our part in this is rapidly drawing to an end.”
They saw general Banderman coming across the room toward them. Vala Orleans, her silver armor gleaming in the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the windows, strode at his side.
“The Queen’s magic is working,” she said, saluting. “The dragons have withdrawn from the High City.”
“I’m afraid it will earn us only a brief respite,” the general added. “A regiment of battle demons is moving into the High City to replace them.”
“The Horde Master is already rearranging its forces,” Danor said. “It was prepared for this.”
Elena nodded in agreement. “The dragons could have brought the palace down around us. Now it will have to storm it with demons instead.”
“Can we stop them?” Vala asked.
“No. But without the dragons it will take them longer, and they will suffer greater casualties.” His face hardened. “If we are to die today, then we will make them pay dearly for our lives.”
The Queen struggled to her feet, slowly and painfully. Danor put an arm around her waist to steady and support her.
There is nothing else now that we can do, Elena said in his mind. Except to keep the demon lord’s attention focused on us. To distract it. To give Gerard time to complete his mission.
I am afraid you are right, my love, he thought to her. If there’s any hope now, it lies with Gerard, and my father. And with Randia, if our son can find her.
Danor held her close, and kissed her.
Then he turned to face the others. He took a deep breath, preparing himself, realizing that these were likely to be his last orders.
“The demons are going to breach and take the palace,” he said. “We
have one last hope, a slim one, of which I can tell you nothing. I am truly sorry for that, and especially because of what I must now ask of you. To trust me without explanation, knowing it almost certain that none of us will live to see that hope.”
General Banderman dropped to one knee and saluted. The others around him followed his example.
“Command us, my liege,” he said firmly.
“We must hold the enemy for as long as possible,” the King said. “The Queen and I will lay down our lives for that last hope. We ask you to stand with us.”
General Banderman rose. “For King and Carlissa!” he cried. “To the last man!”
Vala Orleans came to her feet beside him. “The knights of the Church stand with the King of Carlissa!” she echoed. “For the Covenant! Against the Dark, until we are taken into the Light!”
Danor nodded. “Thank you all. Listen carefully, then. Here are my orders.”
The Passing of the Torch
Randia stared, wide-eyed, at the hole in her brother’s chest. Somehow she managed to make herself speak, but her voice was strained with panic.
“We need to stop that bleeding!” she cried.
She was dimly aware of Kay kneeling at Gerard’s other side, and then of Stefan taking off his cloak and handing it to her. The guard lieutenant’s eyes widened as she examined the wound. It was pulsing streams of blood that had already drenched the prince’s shirt.
She pressed the bundle of cloth over the wound, and then looked at Randia. She shook her head.
“No!” Randia sobbed. “He’s still alive!”
Kay shook her head again. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. The spear pierced his heart. He should be dead already!”
Randia tried to blink away her tears. “There must be something we can do!”
“There is,” a voice said softly.
It was weak and strained, and Randia was shocked to realize that it was Gerard’s. She looked down at her brother’s face. He was gazing up at her and smiling.
“Don’t talk,” she pleaded. She placed a hand against his cheek to try to comfort him. “We’ll find help. Just hold on!”