The Shards

by Gary Alan Wassner

  The floor began to vibrate violently and the Armadiel rose high upon its powerful hind legs. Its black scales shimmered dangerously in the near darkness. Beolan watched in horror as its tail pierced the rock surface as if it was a piece of parchment and disappeared underneath them. The ceiling and walls pulsed with the beast’s potency as it they were alive. Maringar and Beolan both pressed themselves tightly against the walls and removed their weapons from their scabbards. With gloved hands, they grabbed the blades and pounded the hilts hard against the stone.

  Silandre responded willingly to their caresses. The thin sheet of rock that remained between the tunnel that they now stood in and their waiting soldiery shattered and fell away in a cloud of dust, and revealed two wide openings to the left and to the right of the demon in its wake. The dwarves had performed their tasks masterly, and as soon as the holes were clear of debris, the elves pushed the easily maneuverable barricades forward through them and into the chamber and formed a semicircle in front of the Armadiel. From behind their defenses, they began to rain elfin arrows upon the beast. Out of the darkness of the tunnels, more barricades were thrust forward, and perhaps four dozen additional elves emerged and proceeded to deluge the Armadiel with arrow upon arrow. In the meanwhile, Beolan and Maringar retreated quickly behind the foremost defensive position. They acknowledged with pride and no small amount of relief the efforts of their countrymen. Though the plans were well conceived, they did not know until that very moment that they would be just as well executed.

  “We could not have asked for more,” Maringar said to his comrade.

  He was still exhausted from the abuse that his body had suffered, but the adrenaline in his veins was keeping him alert and aware.

  “I had expected no less from your brethren,” Beolan replied.

  The dwarves had cleared large areas just before the tunnel walls on either side of the passageway. They were able to accommodate at least fifty elves and twenty dwarves in each. While the former were busy chipping away at Silandre’s stone and preparing for this moment, the other fifty or so armed elves had made their way into the tunnel from the main entrance. Now, almost two hundred warriors with bows raised and axes ready proceeded against the beast.

  The Armadiel roared in anger. It had been so thoroughly taken by surprise, that it took more than a moment for the beast to fully understand the nature of the threat. Immediately, it needed to protect itself, and it had no time to concentrate and plan a counterattack.

  “Do not cease the barrage!” Beolan yelled, loud enough for it to hear his voice.

  Knowing that it had been deceived by the elf enraged it even more, and it lashed out in fury without contemplating the impact of its actions. Sharp spears of stone fell heavily from the ceiling all around it and bounced off of its hard scales. Most of the arrows too fell harmlessly to the surface at first, though a modest number did insert themselves into the small spaces between its armor and its broad belly, causing it to shriek in pain. It swung its taloned fingers back and forth, and knocked the shafts out of the air as they flew at it from its front and sides.

  A moment later, yet another contingent of elfin warriors began their assault from behind the Armadiel this time. They had traveled deep into the mountain and emerged at a point well to the rear of the beast. Their weapons too now added to the monster’s travail. With lightning speed, the elves of Crispen unleashed onslaught after onslaught of silver tipped arrows upon the monster, never giving it even a moment to rest and organize a response. It howled in frustration and swung its tail dangerously back and forth, shattering rock and stone and sending sparks flying everywhere. But the attack continued relentlessly.

  Beolan walked to Maringar’s side, making sure to remain well hidden behind the many partitions, and he whispered in his ear, “Will you able to do this, my friend?”

  “Most definitely!” he replied without any hesitation. “I think that the only way I will ever rid myself of this terrible feeling of filth and disgust that the beast has left in me is to kill it!” he replied. “It will not be enough to witness its death from afar.”

  “Then we must ready ourselves. The opportunity may come at any time. It has been awake and aware for quite a while now, my conversation intrigued it so.”

  “That was as well done as any man to man combat I have ever seen,” Maringar praised him.

  “Thank you. The beast was most receptive. I even think it liked me.”

  “It liked you alright! It liked you enough to have you for dinner, though not as its guest I suspect, ‘little one’,” Maringar chided him.

  The black scales that covered it all over were darkening in color as the torrents of arrows continued to pummel them. Their inner gleam faded as time wore on, and they began to assume a duller, flatter color.

  The Armadiel swung around and thrashed out wildly at everything that the warriors sent against it. They refused to rest even for a moment, and with Beolan and Maringar coaxing them to pursue their attack without any break whatsoever, the beast had no opportunity to relax. It was being assaulted from all sides and from all angles. Arrows were dropping down on it from above, as some of the elves arched their shots deftly and had them fall on its head and back, while others aimed at its chest and face. Small contingents of dwarves rushed the beast in sporadic waves and hacked away at the plates of armor on the back of its legs, while nimbly avoiding the thrashing tail each time.

  An emboldened dwarf leapt over the demon’s tail and sought to strike at the beast from below, but he was caught in one of its clawed hands. Instantly, the Armadiel pierced the warrior’s heart with a sharp talon, and the dwarf turned grey as stone. It released the dead fighter, and as the immobile body hit the surface, it crumbled to dust. Two more dwarves leapt into the fray and they began to hack away at its hind legs. The beast flicked its heavy tail first to the left and then to the right so quickly that the brave fighters had no chance to even sidestep it. The first dwarf was flung into the wall with such force that its back was shattered by the impact, while the second was caught under the foot of the beast and squashed to death mercilessly.

  Immediately, two more dwarves rushed in to replace those who had fallen. With a fierce rage, they pummeled the monster with their sharp axes, but this time they retreated before it had a chance to strike. Another then dashed across the heaving stone floor with a pick in one hand and its heavy hammer in the other. Unnoticed at first by the frenzied beast, it inserted the sharp, diamond tip of its pick between two scales on the back of its leg and swung its hammer hard and true. The armor gave way and two black scales fell to the ground. The Armadiel screeched in response and swiveled around supplely, but it was too late to catch the nimble dwarf. It had already made its way back to the shelter of one of the barricades.

  “It is beginning to tire,” Beolan said, as he noticed that it was breathing more heavily than before. “Do not waver now!” he urged. “We must force the transformation upon it.”

  Despite the casualties, they fought on without respite, heeding Beolan’s words and trying not to give the beast a moment to do anything more than defend itself from their attacks. In response, the Armadiel’s tail surged deep into the stone floor once again and this time the entire chamber shuddered, but its eyes were not as bright as before and its movements were a slight bit slower now than previously.

  An arrow struck it in its eyelid, and though it quickly pulled the shaft out and broke it in half, the eye began to swell. The few areas where it was vulnerable were being targeted as heavily as they could be by the attacking armies, and though they all knew it would never ultimately succumb to this type of assault, both the dwarves and the elves were cognizant of the ulterior motive of their continued onslaught. At some point, the beast would need to rest and then it would try to replenish itself.

  A fissure suddenly appeared in the rock upon which they all stood. It was only about a fingertip in width at first sight, but as the floor shook and throbbed, it grew wider. Maringar noticed it first, and he d
rew Beolan’s attention to it right away.

  “It runs from one end to the other, it seems,” the dwarf said. “Do you think that the beast can cleave the entire mountain?” he asked.

  “I do not know the extent of its ability, nor of its power. But the cleft grows even as we speak. We have to get it to remove its tail from the rock!” Beolan said.

  “If you show yourself, that will no doubt enrage it even more. In its misguided way, the Armadiel thought you were its friend,” Maringar said.

  “Misguided indeed! I do pity it, but I wish to see it dead and gone from Silandre and Crispen as surely as I would if it was Caeltin himself!” Beolan replied.

  Without another word, Maringar pulled his dagger from the scabbard at his waist and lofted his axe in his other hand. He dashed from behind the rocks while shrieking a dwarven war cry at the top of his lungs, and he waved his weapons dangerously above his head. A flurry of elfin arrows accompanied his advance, along with another charge upon the monster’s rear by a quartet of dwarves.

  The Armadiel’s big eyes were half closed and its head lolled heavily upon its now contracted neck. Many of the scales that protected it showed signs of damage, though only two had fallen to the surface. It continued to bat away the metal tipped shafts that rained down upon it, though with less speed and dexterity than previously. Many of the barbs penetrated its defenses, but they only bounced harmlessly off of its black armor. The beast’s powerful tail remained thrust deep into the stone, and the reverberations could be felt everywhere. The chasm in the floor of the chamber was widening steadily.

  When it saw Maringar, its helpless captive of only hours ago, rushing toward it with his weapons raised, its concentration lapsed momentarily. Distracted by the multifaceted assault as hoped, as well as by the attack upon its pride, its tail withdrew involuntarily from beneath the surface. The vibrations ceased immediately. With whirlwind speed, Maringar attacked, and the beast swung its tail around in order to intercept him. Dropping his dagger, he nimbly ducked and pivoted and then extended his razor sharp axe above his head with both hands securely holding the handle. The Armadiel’s tail swept over the honed metal of his weapon. The blade sliced clean through three of the beast’s bottom scales due to the immense force of the monster’s own action. Black blood poured from the wound and sizzled as it splattered upon the surface. Maringar had been knocked to the floor by the impact, but he was unharmed. He rose quickly and grabbed his axe before scurrying back to the defensive lines. The Armadiel howled from the unexpected and unfamiliar pain. It knew instinctively that it now needed to renew itself, and quickly!

  Its eyes clouded over and it drew in its arms. Its big head sunk down upon its chest and the now wounded tail wrapped itself protectively around its legs and lower body. In the dim light, the black scales glowed eerily and seemed to be changing before their very eyes.

  “Well done, my friend!” Beolan said, and he slapped the dwarf sharply upon his back.

  “The time approaches,” Maringar said to Beolan. “By the First, let us pray that our interpretation of the ancient texts is correct. If so, we must strike the deadly blow when it is most vulnerable. I doubt we will have a second chance.”

  “I am right beside you!” Beolan replied as the two warriors leapt forward in order to approach the beast.

  Maringar had replaced his axe in its sheath and he now held the thick dagger with his two strong hands. Beolan left his bow behind and he too held his long, thin sword with both hands. Side by side, they walked toward the monster. It still stood before them, though it barely moved. Only its heavy breathing indicated that it was still alive. They watched as the color of its skin began to change, beginning at its head. The black scales started to turn pale and almost translucent. At the same time, its eyes closed completely and each breath that it took became slower and less frequent. It seemed to be totally unaware of the presence of the two warriors. Its skin started to fall away from its head and neck, and soon it hung limply all around. Softened scales fell to the ground everywhere. But, almost as fast as they peeled away, new ones formed, and the new ones were once again deep black and luminescent. There appeared to be no more than fifteen seconds between the shedding of the old skin and the formation of the new.

  “The heart is where we must strike if we are to be successful,” Beolan said.

  “I am ready,” Maringar replied.

  They watched the transformation with bated breath, awaiting their one moment to attack. The shoulders of the beast were now exposed, and in a matter of seconds they were armored and invincible looking once again. Its skin hung all around it in heavy folds by this time, as the shedding progressed. Soon, the protective armor had faded and fallen away almost to the beast’s chest.

  “Prepare yourself!” Maringar said, and he raised his dagger in the air.

  A large piece of skin and scales fell to the stone surface, and as it dropped away it revealed a bony section of chest hidden beneath it. Maringar lunged with the speed and force of a man possessed, and he sliced the beast’s thorax down the middle, breaking his dagger in the process on the hard bones of the monster, while leaving a deep gash in the demon. Black blood poured form the wound, but the scales were quickly reforming above it. Beolan followed closely behind, and with both hands grasping his sword, he thrust his weapon as far as he could into the Armadiel’s body. He twisted it violently, hoping to rend the Armadiel’s heart with one swift shove, but he was unsuccessful. The black blood, though dripping from the wound itself, was not the blood of a sundered heart.

  “Help me, Maringar!” he yelled.

  The dwarf had been watching closely, though he had no useful weapon in his hand any longer.

  “I have not the strength to drive my blade home!” Beolan said.

  They both saw the scales rapidly approaching the wound that they had just made. Maringar lifted Beolan in his muscular arms and thrust him upward and into the body of the beast. This effort gave him just the right amount of leverage he needed to manipulate the sharp blade that he held. Pushing up himself with his own strength as well, he now had enough momentum to reach and pierce the Armadiel’s throbbing heart. He shoved his ancient blade deep into the demon’s organ. Torrents of jet black liquid rained down upon the two of them, pulsing and shooting everywhere, and Beolan and Maringar both collapsed under the weight of the beast’s coursing essence.

  “We have to get out of the way,” Maringar yelled, and with a second wind he lifted Beolan once more and carried the exhausted elf back a few paces.

  The blood continued to pour out of the body of the beast, and by this time it had covered the floor in an ever spreading pool of slippery liquid that was slowly seeping into the cracks of the surface. The monster’s eyes were still closed and its skin fell away as if it was still shedding, though no more new scales appeared to be forming any longer. The massive legs of the Armadiel were beginning to buckle at the knees, and its entire body was shriveling like a deflating balloon before their very eyes. It leaned backward upon its tail momentarily, and then it collapsed hard onto the wet surface.

  With their two heroic leaders looking on, the other dwarves and elves who had remained behind the barricades now stepped forward and massed around the dying demon in silence, watching with jubilation and relief. Suddenly, the crack in the middle of the floor, cleaved by the Armadiel’s tail only a short while ago, began to increase in breadth. The chamber shook violently and the floor heaved once more as Silandre’s stone jaws opened wide. They drew the beast into them and consumed it completely and forevermore. Pale and broken scales, along with fragments of bone and pieces of ragged skin shot high into the air. A black and bloody mist spread throughout the cavern only moments before an earsplitting groaning sound assaulted the ears of everyone present. As they watched, the gaping cleft in the rock floor clamped violently together, accompanied by an incredibly loud crash that seemed to reverberate endlessly off of the walls and ceiling and was certain to be heard all the way in the city of Crispen itself.
The entire mountain trembled and shook as Silandre voraciously digested the final remains of the beast that had so arrogantly sought to possess it.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “I need to speak with my brother, Robyn. The ring keeps talking to me. I cannot stop it,” Davmiran said to the Chosen beside him.

  They were standing in Dav’s small room talking. The others had long ago gone to sleep and dawn was fast approaching.

  “Can you understand what it is saying?” he asked.

  “Most of the words are indecipherable. Occasionally I recognize one or two. The only thing that I am certain of though is that it keeps repeating the name ‘Tomas’.”

  “Do you know where he is, Dav? Are you able to communicate with him in any way?”

  “No. I have no idea where he might be. As for your second question, I have never tried. But, there is no doubt that now I must.”

  “Come with me then,” Robyn said and he motioned to the door. “This is not the place to do it. I will find Gretchen and ask her to take us to the tower. That would be a more conducive environment for such an important endeavor, and a more secure one.”

  “What do you fear, Robyn?” Davmiran asked, surprised at his friend’s concern. “Surely nothing bad can come of me finally talking to my brother!”

  “No, it is not merely the encounter with Tomas that concerns me, though events of this magnitude will impact upon us all,” Robyn replied sincerely. “But, any attempt to even utilize the rings would definitely generate an energy that we would not want anyone else to notice.”

  “Anyone like Colton you mean?” Dav asked.

  “Yes, or perhaps one of the Possessed who have been tracking us and the others,” he said.

  “The others? You mean my brother and his group?”

  “Yes. But not them alone. The sisters who left here before we arrived have been followed too.”

  “They are safe now. But Robyn…” the boy said, looking into the other’s eyes, “…they are no longer together,” he said.