“Don’t think you can fit in here,” he said to the lion. “But if you can, I don’t think your claws can match my swords. Want to try it?”
Evidently it did. The lion snarled and lunged. Both shoulders slammed against the side of buildings. Their walls shook, charring black from the heat. Harruq leapt back, but only a little. The lion tried again. Beams broke. Plaster crumbled. Even if the buildings had to fall, it would reach him.
“Persistent bugger,” Harruq muttered. When the lion charged again he lashed out, cutting a deep line across the bridge of its nose. The pain only spurred it further. Fire flooded the alley, and this time the half-orc felt his skin blister. The protection spell was nearly spent.
“Not good,” he said. “Not good, not good, not good.”
He cut at a searching paw, then went on the offensive. Salvation and Condemnation cut and spun. The lion could only bat at the swords, unable to use its greater size to its advantage in the cramped alley. When the paw struck blade, Harruq pressed with all his strength. The creature howled as it lost two claws, nubs of flesh hanging from them. The lion hobbled back, limping on its wounded right paw. Black blood poured across the dirt.
Harruq picked up one of the claws and hurled it at the lion, the mockery angering it further. It bared its teeth and prepared another blast of fire. The half-orc braced his arms, seeing nowhere to go. If he survived he could perhaps kill it before it recovered from the wound. The rush of fire, however, never came.
Three bolts of lightning slammed into its rear, the force knocking the lion to the ground. A whimper escaped its throat, strange and unbecoming. A lance of ice followed it, crashing against its face. The ice tore through its left eye, rendering it blind. The creature turned to run, but now Harruq was leaping out of the alley, his twin swords hungry. He slashed the tendons in its back legs, tumbling the lion to the ground.
Before it could stand, a final bolt of lightning struck from the sky. The giant body convulsed, and a stream of molten black gunk oozed from its open mouth. It moved no more.
“How in the abyss are you not a pile of ash right now?” Tarlak asked as he walked down the alley and slapped the warrior on the shoulder.
“Aurry,” Harruq said. The wizard chuckled.
“Of course. Where is our lovely elf, anyway?”
The ground shook beneath them, and high in the sky the blood lion roared in exaltation. The two exchanged a single look, then without a word they ran toward the fountain, weapons drawn and magic ready.
As the huge teeth closed on her neck, Aurelia cast a desperate spell. Her body turned translucent, as if it were made of smoke and light. She fell through the roof, her body like a ghost. She landed beside a bed where two children cowered in the arms of their father. Their eyes were wide, and all shook with deep, constant fear.
“What’s going on?” the father asked. Sweat ran down his chin.
“Get under the bed,” she told them. At first they did not move, but then giant claws tore away the wood above their heads, and red light flooded the room as fire poured in. The elf hooked her thumbs and held her hands high, palms outward. A ward against fire materialized before the family, a shimmering concave barrier that darkened from orange to deep red as the fire parted against it. The father grabbed a son in each hand, held them to his chest, and then made a frantic rush for the door.
“No, wait!” Aurelia shouted. More of the roof tore away. The giant feline mass crashed down, claws raking and teeth biting. Directly beneath that mass was the family. The elf cast a spell on pure instinct. She clapped her hands, then opened them. A giant shockwave billowed out in a conic tornado of concentrated sound. It struck the lion as it descended. The creature bellowed in anger as it flew through a wall and out onto the street. As the spell ended, she heard one of the boys crying as if far away. Everything else was drowned out by the ringing of her ears.
“Stay inside,” she said, though she did not hear the words. She ran to the opening in the wall and looked out. The lion was struggling to stand on a broken leg. Another marched in circles around it protectively. From her vantage point she had a clear shot at both. Ice formed and cracked around her hands. She pointed her fingers, and then the ice fractured and flew. The hundred shards grew larger until they were long as arrows and wickedly sharp. The pacing lion saw the attack and leapt before the wounded one, roaring as the ice shards pelted through its thick skin and into the muscle beneath.
As Aurelia prepared another spell, the two fled toward Pelarak. The wounded one trailed behind, still limping, but the distance was not far. Unable to see, the elf jumped through the hole and landed on the street. She saw Pelarak before the fountain, the blood-stained water swirling like a living snake around his legs and arms. His eyes looked to the sky, his mouth open in worship.
Lying before him was the still body of Delysia Eschaton.
12
Haern sensed Pelarak’s approach as his wits slowly returned to him. He heard the priest’s cold thanks to Karak. Nearby Delysia sobbed. The assassin let a slit of light enter an eye. He saw Pelarak standing over them. He was smiling.
“Only in absolute emptiness is there order,” he heard him say as he put his hand on Delysia’s pale forehead. The unholy energy surrounding his fingers crawled into her mouth and nose like vile worms. The priestess’ neck snapped back, and wide-eyed, she stared at the sky. Coughs retched from her throat. Haern felt a sickness stir within him. He had watched Brug die, powerless to help him. He would not suffer that fate again.
His arms weighed a thousand stone, but still he lifted them. Numb fingers closed around the hilt of a saber. The darkness was crawling deeper into Delysia. Her heart was pure, and the presence of unholy energy filled her with unbearable pain. All doubt and fear within her was magnified tenfold. Her spine locked tight, and she had no control over her body. She knew she was gagging. She knew she was dying.
Haern took two deep breaths and flung the saber. The blade spun through the air, its aim true. The curved end sliced across Pelarak’s wrist, leaving a shallow cut. The pain jerked his hand. The darkness snapped out of Delysia’s body. She collapsed, her eyes open, unseeing. The priest clutched his bleeding wrist and glared.
“You will suffer dearly,” he snarled.
Haern laughed weakly, an exhausted grin on his face.
“I know,” he said. “But at least you have something to remember me by.”
Pelarak was not amused. He pointed his hooked fingers, a bolt of shadow shooting from his palm. Just before the bolt hit, Haern enacted the magic in one of his rings. He teleported ten feet into the air. The bolt harmlessly hit the dirt where he had been. Haern shifted in air, trying to angle his body just right. The magic in the ring would only send him straight ahead, and only once every few seconds. He would have one chance when he hit the ground. And only one.
The priest saw the assassin above and glared. He would enjoy extracting what little life remained in the priestess. As for Haern, he was a nuisance he had long tired of. He fired another bolt of shadow. Just before he landed, Haern enacted the magic of his ring. He reappeared forward, mere inches away from the priest. His elbow smashed against Pelarak’s forehead. As the priest staggered, Haern reached for Delysia’s hand. If he could just touch her, he could use the ring to take her with him and escape.
He brushed the cold skin of her fingers, but then a brutal pain stabbed his chest. Darkness swirled around his vision, and then he felt himself soaring through the air. He grabbed one of his cloaks and pulled it from his body. The cloak snapped firm, the magic within activated. Haern floated to the ground, blind, wounded, and half a mile from Veldaren’s center.
Pelarak towered over Delysia, his breathing deep and controlled in an attempt to reign in his anger. He glanced about, seeing his lions battling in the streets and upon the rooftops. He had expected the Eschaton to prove a difficult foe, but this was beyond his original estimation.
“Underestimate your foe, underestimate your losses,” he said as he knel
t down and grabbed Delysia by her long red hair. He dragged her closer to the fountain, which still pulsed red with blood from the curse he had cast upon it. He placed her beside one of the mutilated bodies, then let go of her hair. All around lay his dead brothers, killed by perfect strikes from the assassin. They would suffice for reinforcements.
Pelarak took out a dagger, flipped the bodies onto their backs, and then carved a rune onto their forehead. He felt the lion watching him from high above. The power of Karak was heavy in the air. A glorious night, he thought. One he had waited many years for. He sheathed his dagger and let his faith fill him.
“I call forth your servants,” Pelarak said, his hands to the sky. The water in the fountain thrashed and bubbled, the curse growing within. He felt tendrils wrap around his body, flowing with power. He gasped in pleasure.
“My faith denies this world,” he shouted. “And I demand you burst the chains that hold you and give unto me your servants so we may cleanse this land!”
The runes on the dead priests’ foreheads flared red before exploding upward in smoke. The ground shook. The sky roared. The bodies of the priests erupted in blood as from their chests lions emerged. At first they were the size of their worldly counterparts, but then grew larger and stronger once they were free of their passageway into Dezrel. The lions shook off the blood that stained their coats. They uttered quick growls to each other, greeting their fellow pack members. The two wounded lions joined them, dipping their heads in greeting.
Pelarak lowered his arms as he felt the incredible power fade from his body. His knees wobbled, and he gripped the side of the fountain to steady himself. He had not expected to need more of the lions, but battle was chaotic, after all. When he saw the lions looking at him, he bowed.
“I am a humble servant,” he said. The leader of the pack sniffed at him, then nudged the unconscious Delysia with a paw. Pelarak stood and redrew his knife.
“Do not doubt my strength,” he told the creature. “The Doru’al will walk this world again.”
The pack leader roared, and the rest of his pack took up the roar as far away a different kind of pack gathered to face the new threat.
See now,” Tarlak said as he watched the four lions tear into their world through the bodies of the priests. “That’s not fair.” They reached Aurelia, who stood shocked by the sight.
“Two are wounded,” she said as Tarlak and her husband neared. “But even so, there are six of them. Haern’s gone, and Delysia…”
She couldn’t finish.
They watched as Pelarak drew his dagger and hovered over her still body. Tarlak’s hands shook. He turned to the others, unable to watch.
“Not in vain,” he said, the hard look in his eyes scaring the couple. “Not here, not now…and not in vain.”
Lightning crackled around his hands, painfully bright. One of the lions spotted them and roared. Harruq turned, his swords drawn and his hands shaking. Aurelia’s spell had done much to banish the unnatural fear from the aberration in the sky, but his normal fear went untamed. It grew when all six of the creatures turned and belched fire toward them. The awesome display nearly broke his spirit.
Aurelia latched onto his arm, a spell on her lips.
“There,” she said. “You will be protected from the fire again. And don’t run on me, Harruq Tun. Don’t you dare run.”
He faced the lions, which approached in a tight pack of power and muscle.
“I won’t,” he said.
As one the spellcasters unleashed blasts of ice and lightning. The front lions dodged, but those behind were knocked back. More blasts followed, and then came boulders of earth and ice, cones of air, and invisible walls of magic. Harruq watched the display, awed and humbled by Aurelia’s and Tarlak’s power. His swords felt small and useless in his hands by comparison. The lions shook their heads from side to side and endured the brutal hits, using their giant mass and momentum to continue forward. The three would be crushed.
“Not in vain,” Harruq whispered, hoping he could keep such a promise.
Tarlak tried to lift one of the lions off the ground with a brute levitation spell, but the creature resisted. The wizard collapsed to his knees, exhausted. Aurelia fired lances of ice, but they were small compared to the previous barrage. Harruq stepped forward, prepared to sacrifice his life to give them time to escape. He was never given the chance.
A swirling beam of light twice the size of any man screamed between he and Tarlak. It struck the foremost lion, enveloping its entire body in pure magical essence. The power tore its skin and shattered its bones. A second beam followed, and this time the lions had no choice but to retreat. It struck another lion, but the creature rolled out from the blast. Melted rock poured from its nose, and its right shoulder sagged. Stunned, Harruq glanced back to see the source of the attacks.
“Tessanna,” he said, his mouth hanging open. The crazed demoness had come. Stranger still she walked between Lathaar and another man, both wearing the gleaming armor of paladins. Tarlak looked back as well, and his entire body tensed at the sight.
“How dare she,” he said, lightning crackled from his hands despite his exhaustion.
“No!” Lathaar shouted, stepping in front of the girl with the solid black eyes. The lightning had already been loosed. Mira brushed aside Lathaar as if he were a child, and then batted away the lightning with her bare hand. Tarlak’s anger flared, but then Lathaar was running, his swords drawn and light flooding the street.
“Mira!” he shouted. “Her name is Mira!”
Harruq looked to the lions, but they were observing the new power they faced. When he turned back to Mira, he realized the clothes she wore were different. Her dress was beautiful and green, tailored similar to Aurelia’s. Her skin was darker, and her whole body thicker and healthier. Again he heard Lathaar shout the name Mira.
“What the abyss is going on?” he asked.
The other man pulled his shield off his back, and the brilliant light joined Lathaar’s so that the street was bright as day. All their fear and worry faded away.
“Behind us,” the man with the shield shouted, positioning himself in front of Aurelia and Tarlak. Lathaar joined Harruq’s side, glancing at him as he did.
“We fought together once before,” Lathaar said. “Ready to do so again?”
Harruq nodded. The lions were snarling and belching fire, clearly unhappy about losing their numbers advantage.
“So who might you be,” Tarlak asked.
“Name’s Jerico of the Citadel,” the paladin said.
“Good to meet you Jerico. Try not to die on me so I can greet you properly. Oh, and don’t let me die, either.”
The wizard held in a surge of rage as Mira stood beside him. He remembered Lathaar’s words, spoken in a time that felt ages away. She could be her twin, he had said. He hadn’t been lying. The anger passed as he reminded himself, again and again, that the girl with black hair and eyes was not the murderer of his best friend.
“The demons are scared,” Mira said. She lifted her hands and let the wild magic within her pool around her fingers. “They know what I am. Even Karak fears me.” She brought down her hands as the lions charged down the street.
“Time to justify their fear.”
Aurelia and Tarlak fired twin streams of ice shards, but it was Mira’s spell that sent the lions leaping to the rooftops. A maelstrom of swirling air and magic erupted from her hands, spanning the width of the street. It sucked in the other two spells, twisting into a vortex of ice and wind. While the other lions could flee, the one with the wounded leg only whimpered and braced for the hit. Its molten fur shredded away under the power. The ice sliced every inch of its flesh. Dark blood clouded the maelstrom, which dissipated when Mira ended her concentration. Ice and blood rained upon the street as the lion fell dead.
The remaining lions dashed from roof to street to roof as spells darted after them. Magical arrows, bolts, and beams of all elements lit up the sky. At last they reached the
party, and the four leapt as one from the rooftops.
“About time!” Jerico shouted as one leapt straight for him. A glowing image of his shield flung outward and struck the lion. The power hit its stomach like a battering ram, killing all momentum. The paladin gave it no reprieve, striking at its sides with his mace as it hit the ground in a graceless tangle of limbs.
Harruq and Lathaar rushed their attacker, their swords hacking. The lion clawed and bit as its huge body slammed into the both of them. It rolled head over feet as it roared, the two fighters rolling with it. The fire of its fur was hot to the touch but Aurelia’s spell spared Harruq. Lathaar had no such protection. The paladin screamed in pain as he stabbed again and again into the belly of the lion. The half-orc slashed at its eyes, scoring a wicked strike along the upper eyelid. He held in a scream when two claws tore across his arm, easily piercing his leather armor and shredding flesh.
The remaining two lions leapt at the casters, both eager to devour the strange goddess among them. Aurelia and Tarlak raised their hands and cast protection spells, but Mira would have none of it. She flicked a wrist at each of them. Winds pushed them aside. The first landed atop her, but it passed through her body like mist. The girl laughed.
“Something wrong?” she asked. Her hand reached out, ghostly and ethereal. When it touched the lion’s skin the spell enacted. Golden light exploded all around her, painful to the Eschaton’s eyes but absolute torture to the demons. The lion flew back from her touch, its right shoulder shattered. The other twisted in mid-leap, trying to hide from the glaring spell. It sailed overhead and landed behind the group. It leapt again, avoiding a blast of lightning. Tarlak looped his right hand twice, and then red webs fell from the sky. The lion struggled but could not resist their strength. It hit the street with a whimper, and lay there writhing against the webs.
It was given no chance to recover. Mira pelted it with a blast of white magic, so strong it peeled away fur and flesh so its bare ribs were exposed. The mighty lion died whimpering. Not far away, the lion with the wounded shoulder snarled in anger. Its pack was dying, and Karak was not pleased. It glanced back to Pelarak, who beckoned for it to return. The lion dodged a parting shot from Aurelia before racing back to the priest.
The Death of Promises (Half-Orcs Book 3) Page 19