by Tony Donadio
Before the door, axe in hand, stood the massive figure of Incanus Thad. It turned to her as she approached, a broad grin appearing on its demonic face.
“Lady Desire,” it said in its characteristically booming voice. “Is your infiltration finally complete?”
She strode forward. The demon was over twice her height, and could barely stand erect even in the high stairwell. She stroked a dainty hand absently along its massive thigh as she came to its side.
“It is,” she said. “The only secret left appears to lie with the royals themselves.”
Incanus Thad growled. “Do you mean to capture them, then?” it said. Its voice was heavy with disapproval. “To interrogate them?”
She shook her head reluctantly.
“No,” she said. “In any case it’s likely only a lie told to buoy the defenders’ spirits. And the Killravens are too dangerous to risk it. Lord Borr’s orders were wise. They need to be killed, as swiftly and brutally as possible.” She looked into the demon captain’s eyes. “I’m here to lend a hand with that.”
“Good,” Incanus Thad said. Its thundering voice sounded relieved. “Your help would be timely.” It waved its axe, Destruction, in the direction of the enchanted doorway. “We need to shatter these wards.”
The girl studied them, and then nodded.
“We should be able to do it easily enough if we draw power from your battle demons. But this entrance is narrow, Incanus — and there will be three royals waiting for us, in addition to whatever remain of the wizards and knights.”
The great demon shrugged. “There are over a thousand of us in the palace now,” it said. “Usnaroth circles the tower with two squadrons of our elite sky demons, and Lord Borr itself prepares to throw the full strength of its magic against the tower ward. They wait only for my signal.”
The girl nodded in approval. She turned to face the demons behind them.
“Prepare yourselves,” she said.
They closed their eyes, and began to chant softly in their infernal tongue. The gem that she wore started to shine with red magic. It blazed brighter and brighter until it became blinding.
The Horde Captain lowered its axe, and the massive blade came to rest against the girl’s throat. For a moment it looked as though it were going to take her head. Then Destruction touched the gem, and the red magic spread like wildfire into the weapon’s edge.
The axe blazed like a crimson sun as Incanus Thad turned, faced the portal, and braced itself to strike. Then the giant demon swung it at the door with all of its strength.
“Karach!” it cried.
Destruction struck the door with a blinding shower of sparks. The wards around it flared brilliantly, but held. The demon whipped the weapon around and struck again.
“Karach!”
Again the wards flared, but this time a red glow mixed in with their white-blue radiance. A deafening screech sounded throughout the tower in time with the blow, as though the door were screaming in agony. When the sparks cleared a long, red-glowing gash could be seen in its surface.
The axe came around again. This time, all the demons cried out in unison.
“Karach!”
The door exploded in a burst of fiery magic. The two halves flew from their hinges to land on the stairway above, cloven asunder. Incanus Thad leaped through the opening, suddenly bright with the light of the westering sun.
“Troops forward!” it cried. “And give the signal!”
The girl stood back as the demons rushed through the doorway and up the stairs. Almost immediately she heard the sounds of battle engaged. Cries of “For the Light!” and “For King and Carlissa!” mixed with the roar of the monsters, and with concussions of unleashed magic. She waited until the entire company of Incanus Thad’s demonic soldiers had gone through the opening, and then followed unhurriedly behind them.
An icy wind whipped around her as she stepped onto the summit of the tower. Above, the sun was settling low over the slopes of Mount Cascade. Below, the spires of Lannamon and the waters of the firth glinted with its light. Fires raged everywhere, and the smoke from them was lit with an ominous red-orange hue as it rose in columns above the city.
She saw with a mild stab of disappointment that the battle had been far less of a challenge than expected. The bodies of only half a dozen wizards, and perhaps a score of the Knights of the Light, lay dead around her. A dozen demons had fallen with them. The Carlissans had retreated to the top of the tower with only a handful of forces, and they were already dead.
Or most of them were. The battle demons were gathered in a semicircle around one end of the Sky Dome. Before them stood Incanus Thad, its thunderous voice booming in the high airs above the city.
“We meet again, Queen Elena,” it said. “Are you ready to finish what we began this morning?”
Elena’s voice rang with triumphant defiance despite her exhaustion.
“If you mean, are we ready to die, monster,” she said, “then we are. You may kill us, but you have not won the true battle. That remains yet to be waged.”
The girl walked quickly forward, the demons making way for her as she did. When the last of them had parted she found herself face to face with the King and Queen.
Elena Starlight’s long, blonde hair blew freely in the wind atop the palace tower. Azure fire blazed in her hand. At her left stood Vala Orleans, last of the Knights of the Order of Light. At her right stood King Danor Killraven. His sword, Guardian, shone with a warm, golden radiance as he held it above his head, ready to strike.
The girl smiled at them. Then she stepped forward, her black, feathered wings unfurling behind her.
Elena’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “You!” she cried.
The girl curtsied. “Liana Desire,” she said. “Succubus in the service of His Holy Magnificence, the Demon Lord Borr. Farewell, your majesties. As we tried to inform you earlier, your reign is now at an end.”
Destruction whistled above Incanus Thad’s head, and Liana’s gem blazed with red magic. Their wings beat in unison as they rose into the air and, backed by a legion of battle demons, leaped to attack.
Chapter 20 - Heart of Steel
The Flume
Air whistled by Randia’s head as she fell. She twisted her body, turning her hips and grabbing her scabbard to keep it from flailing. She had one desperate chance. If she missed — or the sword snagged on anything — it would be over.
Her legs and backside slammed into a hard, stone surface as she plunged into rushing water. It was smooth and narrow, curving around her, angling downward. She held the scabbard hard along the length of her leg and pointed her toes, trying to keep herself from bouncing off into space.
For a few heart-pounding seconds she felt her back riding up out of the current and along the side of the aqueduct. Her right leg rose out of it completely, threatening to toss her into the air again, hundreds of feet above the base of the cliff. Then her body slid back down into the channel. She tried to hold her breath as the running water rushed over her, submerging her in its icy embrace.
The aqueduct was built into the side of the cliff where the southern tier of the Upper City ended. Randia rode the channel feet-first as it dropped steeply away from the ledge she had stood on only moments before. Freezing mountain water flowed around her in a loud rush as her body was slammed against the inside of the stone conduit. She thought she could hear the muffled sound of Gorath’s enraged cursing above, but it quickly faded into the distance and was drowned out by the sound of rushing water around her.
She tried to flatten herself into the narrow channel. The stone around her was smooth and worn, and she felt herself sliding easily along its surface. She knew that would allow her to pick up tremendous speed, which she hoped would quickly carry her far away from the pursuing demon.
That speed was a double-edged sword. The aqueduct ran through tunnels in the cliff-side, and the flow would turn and split several times before reaching the reservoir below. If she missed
one of those spots — or if she lifted her head too far out of the channel to watch for them — then her body would be broken on the rocks or tossed out over the cliff. She tensed, ready to lean to either side to try and steer her way.
She raced through the flume. The light around her dimmed or vanished abruptly as the aqueduct ran under overhangs or through tunnels in the cliff-face, and she was slammed around with little warning by sudden turns in the channel. She was nearly split in half when it separated into two different runways, but she managed to veer into one of them at the last moment.
She felt herself rising along the right side of the canal as it banked to the left. The light around her brightened, and she risked lifting her head for a few gulps of air. The cliff was curving to look north, where it merged into the face of the terrace on one of the tiers of the Upper City. Ahead she saw the aqueduct begin to pull away from it into a long, flattening bridge that dipped, and then abruptly ended. The waters of a reservoir glinted in the westering sun far below.
Randia’s heart thudded as she felt the channel veer away from the cliff. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she hit the cascade, and there was little she could do to prepare. She counted the seconds, bracing herself, holding her free hand above her head. If her timing were off, the drop too far, or the pool too shallow …
Then she was over the lip and riding the waterfall into empty space. For a long moment she hung, suspended in the air above the reservoir. Then she arched her back and, with a skill that came from years of practice, transitioned gracefully into a flawless reverse pike. Her body arrowed into the pool and disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
Tricked
Liana searched frantically among the bodies at the summit of the tower. Usnaroth landed nearby, a dozen elite demons at its side. Incanus Thad strode to meet them.
“It is done,” the giant demon said. “The royals are slain. Take their heads for the palace gate.”
Usnaroth’s bat-like features looked pleased, and it gestured to two of its companions. “That should break what’s left of the city’s resistance.”
“Is there any word on the princess?”
“Yes, finally. One of the demons under Gorath’s command just reported in. It appears that she was hiking in the bluffs to the south when the attack began. The captain is tracking her as we speak.”
“Ah,” Incanus Thad said. It sounded disappointed. “So that’s why Gorath went missing. We should go and help with the hunt —”
Liana straightened abruptly. Her black wings flared and beat the air as her eyes flashed in rage and frustration.
“So that was their secret hope,” she said softly, as though to herself.
Incanus Thad looked at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“We have been tricked, Incanus. Prince Gerard’s body is not here.”
Incanus Thad’s face darkened. “I thought you said he had been left at the top of the tower. To perform some kind of conjuring.”
She shook her head.
“That’s what the royals told everyone. The Queen must have sensed my magic and staged a deception. Their stand was a distraction, to give him time to flee …”
She whirled suddenly on the Horde Captain.
“That ring, Incanus,” she said. “The one the King wielded against you earlier. He’s not wearing it now.” She turned to Usnaroth. “And he didn’t use it in his charge either, did he?”
Usnaroth shook its head. “I saw no sign of a magic ring.”
“He gave it to the prince, then,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “That’s how he escaped the palace undetected. We have a second royal on the loose — and he’s armed with a powerful artifact.”
Heart of Ash
Randia swam along the stone bottom of the reservoir. She had only just avoided slamming into it, face first, at the nadir of her dive. Flattening her trajectory had taken all of her strength and skill as a swimmer — but she had managed it.
She knew she couldn’t stay underwater for long, though. She’d had to hold her breath through much of her flume ride through the aqueduct, and her lungs were starting to burn. She sighted on the shimmering light from the surface above, and began to move toward it with powerful strokes.
She found that Flamebane was hindering her movements. It was a light sword, made by elven smiths from some of the finest bluesteel ever forged, but it was still a sword. It weighed her down in the water, and slapped about awkwardly as she kicked her legs. Despite the difficulty, she didn’t think for a moment of letting it go. It was all she had left from her brothers, and she knew she would need it.
Spots were beginning to appear in her vision when she finally broke the surface. For a minute she just tread water in place, helplessly heaving in huge gulps of precious air. When she finally had control of herself again and had stopped gasping, she looked around.
The reservoir turned out to be a large pool carved from granite, and she was close to its northern end. A short swim took her to a set of stone steps that rose a few feet from the water onto a rocky ledge. To her dismay she discovered that she’d lost both of her shoes during her ride through the flume. Drenched and barefoot she dragged herself up the rocky stairs, and vaulted over a short metal fence at the top.
She found herself on a narrow plaza with a tiled floor. It was another of the many walking paths that laced Lannamon’s Upper City. At its northern end ran an ornately carved balustrade that looked out over the edge of its second terrace.
Shock ran through her as she realized where she was. She had traveled over a mile down toward the firth in a matter of minutes.
Slowly, hesitantly, she stepped forward. Water dripped from her drenched form onto the tiled path as she looked around. There was no one in sight nearby — or at least, no one still alive. That didn’t surprise her, of course. Most of the survivors would have sought shelter from the attack indoors.
She saw with relief that there were no demons near her. A handful wandered her level of the Upper City, but most of them seemed to be preoccupied with randomly breaking into homes where the people were taking shelter. Most of their forces were concentrated around what remained of the city’s main centers of resistance: the palace, the Cathedral, the Silver Star. That last group was uncomfortably close, its rear edge barely a quarter of a mile from where she now stood.
She reached the balustrade and leaned heavily on it, bracing herself for what she knew she would see. The City of Rainbows had been conquered. Every bastion of resistance had been shattered, its walls lying in ruins or in flames. Even the palace was crawling with monsters. The Sky Chamber at the summit of the Wizard’s Tower was thick with the flitting shapes of winged demons.
Not knowing what else to do or where else to go, she started onto the walkway to the east. The path skirted the creatures razing the Silver Star, and she watched them warily as she followed it. Had they slain her grandfather as well? Was his own head soon to appear on the gate before his tower, heralding the final and utter defeat of the Children of the Covenant?
She watched the shadows lengthen across the city as the sun touched the shoulder of Mount Cascade. The long twilight was coming to Lannamon, and it would be another hour before the sun fell behind the horizon. Until it did a lingering dusk would cover the valley, an ambient golden light reflecting into it from the sky and clouds above.
She thought of everyone who had died that day to save her. Aron was gone, and her parents were almost certainly dead by now as well. She wondered numbly if their heads would be staked before the palace gate to end the last hope of their people. Windheart had been disemboweled by demons as she led them away from her hiding place. Her brother Gerard had been impaled as he fought desperately to protect her. Kay had given her life to shout a single word of warning. And Stefan, the love of her life, had been ripped to shreds by the creature that now pursued her — to buy her only a few more minutes of flight.
She walked, looking numbly at the city, her heart filling with an ashen des
pair. Everything good was about to be destroyed, and she was powerless to stop it.
She shook her head violently, tears splashing across her face. Stefan’s dying shrieks echoed again and again in her mind. Hopelessness pressed in on her, stealing her breath, threatening to crush her spirit once and for all. She had failed. She would never find her grandfather. The city was lost, the world would end, it was her fault — and there was nothing she could do about it.
No, there was one thing she could do. She could at least put an end to her torment. All she needed was her brother’s sword.
The Crucible
Her hand was reaching for Flamebane before she realized it. She drew the blade and held it in the air before her.
She felt the smooth texture of the ring on her other hand. She could still hear its song calling to her, but it was faint now, as though coming from an impossibly great distance.
She felt the leather and bluesteel as her fingers curled, white-knuckled, around the sword’s hilt. She stared at the blade, eyes wide, as if seeing it for the first time.
This was made for them, she thought suddenly. For the monsters that had ripped her family, her future, and her love from her, in an orgy of brutal gore.
It was made to kill them.
She looked at the burning city. She saw the life fading from Gerard’s eyes. She felt Windheart’s belly being torn open. Stefan’s dying screams echoed in her mind.
The demons had done this.
Her desperate flight had left her little time to think or to feel. Now her emotions were finally forcing themselves through her numb grief. She felt a cold, hard anger — and with it, sprouted a seed of burning hatred.
The feelings washed through her like lights in the dark. Her despair scattered before them like ash in a wind. Her soul clung to them desperately, like a lifeline thrown to one hanging over an abyss.
The ring’s song began to change. Its theme shifted into a variation, tense and ominous, beginning a slow progression toward the crescendo it had always promised. It became subtly louder, as though not quite coming from such a great distance as before.