Messenger of the Dark Prophet (The Bowl of Souls: Book Two)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  Justan felt the spell seize up his muscles, but didn’t break free right away. Doing so might cause the wizard to unleash a spell that was more destructive. He took the time to examine the situation.

  The prisoners and orcs alike were frozen in place. Every orc that tried to enter the portal froze the moment it entered the room and the portal was soon clogged. The same situation was happening to the escapees that made it to the top of the stairs. Neither side was gaining any advantage and Justan was the only one with the power to break that stalemate.

  He sized up his opponent and tried to figure out how he could attack. Ewzad Vriil’s power was immense. In normal circumstances a direct attack would be foolhardy. The wizard had enough power to fry every one in the castle to a crisp. However, using his mage sight, Justan could see that holding the inefficient magical portal open was draining a vast amount of the wizard’s power and freezing everyone in the room was taking up the rest. At that particular moment, Ewzad shouldn’t have had enough power left to light a candle. Justan knew he had a chance.

  Ewzad Vriil was in a quandary. He was safe at the moment, but how should he proceed? It would have been so much easier if he had one of his paralyzing beacons with him. The devices only held the subjects frozen by the original blast, while the nature of the spell he had just cast also froze anything that entered the room. The prisoners were stopped, but they weren’t dead. He was thinking of how best to kill them with the little power he had left when one of the escapees broke the freeze spell and began walking towards him.

  It was the man who had killed Rudfen. Ewzad sent another paralyzing spell at the man, but it did not work. Why wasn’t the spell working? Was his magic that drained? Ewzad sent another and another but the man kept coming, silently twirling two swords in the air.

  The man was getting too close. Finally, Ewzad sent a wave of air, knocking the man from his feet. The man stood up and came again, faster this time. Ewzad continued to send blasts of air while backing up to his throne.

  Then Ewzad saw the rune on the back of the man’s right hand. For the first time Ewzad’s anger was replaced by fear. This was a named warrior. How had he missed that in the man’s interrogation? Had he been so focused on Elise’s visit that he hadn’t stopped to think? He should have suspected something right away. After all, what other kind of man could have destroyed Huck?

  “My-my, what a deception. Tsk tsk. You didn’t give me your true name, warrior,” Ewzad said. He sent another wave of energy to bowl Justan over.

  “You didn’t ask nicely,” Justan quipped as he jumped back to his feet. He was frustrated by his miscalculation of the wizard’s power and he was running out of time. He had to get to the duke before the wizard thought of a way to escape.

  Ewzad recognized that his spells weren’t working. The warrior was going to catch him soon and he couldn’t leave through the portal because it was packed full of frozen orcs. He needed to change his strategy.

  With a wave of his fingers, Ewzad pushed Justan back one final time. Quickly, the wizard released the freeze spell and replaced it with a force field just large enough that it took in both himself and the portal.

  The prisoners were startled by the spells release, but wasted no time and surged against the barrier. Painful sparks erupted from the barrier, pushing the humans back, but Fist wouldn’t back down with the wizard finally in his sights. The ogre pounded away at the barrier with the table leg, ignoring the sparks that singed his hair and burnt his hands.

  Meanwhile orcs flooded through the portal and began to fill the space inside the force field, waiting to be released.

  Justan was repulsed by the field as well, but he saw something that made him smile. There was movement behind the throne. Somehow Sneaky Pete had ascended the stairs in his weakened condition and was inside the barrier when Ewzad erected it. The assassin slowly crept up behind the wizard, silvery wire in hand. Justan he had to give him time.

  “Ewzad Vriil!” Justan shouted. The wizard’s eyes rested on him. Quickly, Justan took the glove off of his left hand and pressed his palm up against the barrier, ignoring the sparking pain. “I am Edge! You will remember my name until you die, which will be very soon!”

  Ewzad frowned as he saw the wizard rune on Justan's palm. Could this young man be a named wizard as well? That was impossible. He had never heard of such a thing.

  An orc shouted out in warning. Ewzad turned just as Petyr was casting the silvery loop in the air. The wizard’s fingers writhed and the assassin was frozen before he could complete the deed.

  “Ha!” Ewzad Vriil turned back to Justan. “Oh my, you are no named wizard, no-no. Do you think me simple? You have no magic! You were distracting me so that your friend could sneak up from behind.” The wizard thought for a moment. “You are Kenn’s friend aren’t you? You are the one that he asked for. He set you free didn’t he? Well he shall pay!”

  Ewzad snarled, his face turning red, and turned to Sneaky Pete, who stood frozen near the throne. “How naughty you are! How sneaky. Let me show you what happens to those who sneak around Ewzad Vriil!” The wizard’s fingers wove together and his face turned more and more angry as he spoke. “Oh my, a wasting disease is it? That explains your sickly look. I could heal you of it, you know. A simple spell really. I learned it from the wizard that healed me of a similar disease years ago. You would like that wouldn’t you? Well, that same spell can be used in reverse as well.”

  The wizard gestured and Petyr lurched. The assassin’s chest began to bulge out. The paralyzing spell kept him from screaming, but his eyes told the tale of his pain. The bulge grew and grew until with a loud pop, the sound of his ribs cracking filled the room. Ewzad released the freeze spell and Sneaky Pete fell forward, dead.

  “No!” Justan bent his will against the barrier. The wizard had pulled power from the shield in order to kill Petyr and Justan was able to use his defensive magic to break down the spell. He reached into the red and gold lines of magic that made up the shield and ripped them apart line by line until the force field collapsed.

  With the shield down, orcs streamed out among the prisoners and the battle began anew. The prisoners did well at first, but more orcs streamed through the portal to replace those that fell.

  Ewzad stepped back in surprise. How had the deceiver done that? His barrier had been strong. No one should have been able to break it. Perhaps the man really was a wizard.

  He put all of his strength into erecting a smaller, but stronger shield around himself alone. He could not take direct part in the battle, but it would not matter. He had an unending supply of orcs. They would suppress the rebellion. Yes, he would just sit back and watch.

  Justan wanted to go up and finish the wizard, but he was cut off by a wave of orcs. They were coming in through the portal faster than reinforcements could stream up out of the dungeon. These were tough, experienced orcs that were well rested, while the escapees were sparsely armed humans that were weak from lack of food and had already fought a large battle.

  Justan danced around the orcs, his swords inflicting disabling wounds if he was not able to get in a fatal strike. He began to edge toward the portal. He sensed that if he could get close enough, he could use his magic to collapse it. But what would be the consequence? The flow of orcs would stop coming, but the wizard would have his full power back. If cornered, he might incinerate them all.

  Just as Justan’s hope began to fade, a fire erupted in the back of the throne room. Justan sensed something that made him smile.

  Chapter Forty One

  “Slow her down you no good excuse fer a woodland elf!” Lenny shouted over the wind, while doing his best to hold Bertha away from anything flammable. They had left so quickly that he hadn’t the time to put the hammer away.

  Lenny and Zambon spurred their horses. Stanza and Alfred were warhorses, the best of their breed and trained at the BattleAcademy, but Gwyrtha was still far ahead of them and they were beginning to tire.

  “She is holding back, you kn
ow!” Zambon shouted back. “I don’t know if Qyxal has anything to do with it, but I have seen her run much faster!”

  “Bah!” Lenny grumbled, but he didn’t blame her. She had been holding back during the entire journey. The boy must be close ahead.

  Qyxal sat up and pointed and Lenny looked up to see the duke’s unfinished castle looming in the distance. They began to pass worker shacks and carts full of building materials. People screamed and ran at the sight of an elf riding a monster.

  By the time they arrived at the castle entrance, two scruffy soldiers were all that remained of Ewzad’s security force. They stood at their posts, staring back towards the keep and the sounds of fighting within. Gwyrtha burst past them and up the tall front steps before they could cry out. They saw Zambon and Lenny coming though and raised their spears in warning.

  Lenny leaned out to the side of Stanza’s saddle and swung Bertha into the head of one guard, shattering his skull and setting what remained of his helmet ablaze. Alfred trampled the other on his way up the steps.

  They dismounted at the top of the steps, where Qyxal was trying unsuccessfully to pick open the locked main doors.

  “Are you sure you know what yer doin’, elf? You got us tryin’ to head right in the Duke’s front door. We had plans of how we was gonna’ do this,” the dwarf reminded.

  “Didn’t you notice?” the elf said, squinting as he tried to pick the lock. “Where are his soldiers? Other than those two inept guards this place is defenseless. Something is going on in there and Gwyrtha wants in really bad.”

  As if in response, the rogue horse threw her weight into the door.

  “Just a minute, just a minute, girl. Lemme do it, okay?” With the first swing, Bertha bent the lock, sending sparks flying and putting the hard wood of the door on fire. The second swing broke the lock all together and the doors opened inward.

  “See Qyxal?” Zambon smiled at the elf. “I told you it’s good to have a dwarf around.”

  Beyond the door was a long, empty hallway. The sounds of battle echoed down the hall to the companions from the doors at the far end. They ran to the end of the hall and Lenny bashed the door, breaking the lock and setting another fire. The four companions pushed forward, but the door surged outward. Wicked orcs and thin men in ragged clothing spilled into the hallway, pushing the companions back.

  Gwyrtha let out a roar of challenge and bowled through the press, scattering men and orcs alike. Zambon was quick to follow in her wake, swinging his new sword, and leaving Lenny and Qyxal to fight their way forward.

  Lenny had no idea why these men and orcs were fighting, but he knew which side he was on. The dwarf laughed as he pounded away at every orc in reach, sending them burning and tumbling away in every direction. Some blundered into tapestries and fires began to rage.

  The dwarf took his swathe of destruction forward, pushing men aside and taking out any orcs in his path. An eerie screech echoed as three trolls burst out of the shimmering portal. Lenny didn’t know what the portal was, but he knew he had the perfect weapon to fight trolls. He found himself charging at them alongside a muscular wild man that was screaming in rage.

  Qyxal put a swath of orcs to sleep and looked over the crowd to assess the situation. The battle was bloody. Humans and orcs were fighting and dying. He saw more humans streaming in from a door in the back of the room, while three trolls came shrieking from a shimmering portal near the throne in the center of the room.

  This was the same kind of portal that had been used to take the group they had followed through the snow. The immense power keeping that portal open was staggering.

  Qyxal couldn’t see the wizard that had created the portal, but he saw the forces that continued to pour through and knew it had to come down if the humans were going to win. He shifted into mage sight and studied the elements that made up the portal. Once he had the patterns down, he steadied himself for an attack against the magic.

  Deathclaw wasn’t prepared for her first attack. Talon’s claws caught him across the chest, sending blood and scales scattering across the stone floor. She was still under the spell of the Wildersnatch’s blood. He leapt back into a defensive stance as she came again. She was quick.

  Deathclaw narrowed his focus and his body became hyper sensitive, his every nerve and muscle under complete control. Time slowed down for him once again as he analyzed her every attack. She was here, the one creature in the world that was like him. His goal was in front of him and he felt more alive than ever.

  She slashed with right and left claws, her tail barb darting in at every angle. He knocked aside some strikes and dodged others. Her speed was such that he wasn’t able to avoid all her strikes, but he made sure that the ones she landed were minor. It was only a short time before he knew he had to strike back. If not, she would wear him down and kill him.

  He waited until one particularly nasty swipe of her claws went by, then launched his shoulder into her chest, knocking Talon out of her offensive rhythm. He bit into her shoulder and ignoring the pain in his jaw still sore from his battle with the Wildersnatch, and tore away, leaving a nasty wound. Talon hissed in pain and pleasure.

  Deathclaw attacked with every weapon he had, not going for a kill, but to disable her. She would be able to regenerate any non fatal damage he could inflict. He clawed at her shoulders and thighs, sent his tail spike into her hip, but Talon would not go down easily.

  Hamford watched in a mix of awe and terror as the two dragons fought. Talon seemed to be the quicker and more vicious of the two, but Hamford’s demon was stronger and the better warrior. They were a blur of scales and claws lashing out at each other. The floor was littered with tiny scales that glistened like shards of crystal in the torch light.

  The fight seemed to be evenly matched, but Hamford hoped that Talon would win. Ewzad would probably have her kill him for allowing his other creations to be destroyed, but he could accept that end. As long as his demon was dead, Hamford knew that he could die in peace.

  Talon’s frenzied attacks were causing a lot of surface damage, but Deathclaw’s strikes were precise and penetrated deeper. He was having difficulty slowing her down though, because the wizard had enhanced her already formidable regenerative abilities and she was healing too fast. He was forced to increase the power of his attacks, taking more damage in return.

  Deathclaw took hit after hit and struck his brood mate over and over. Finally, one of his strikes had the result he was looking for. His tail barb shot deep into her hip and sliced a key tendon. She limped to the side and Deathclaw leapt on top of her, pinning her limbs with his greater weight. Talon spit and hissed. She snapped at his face.

  Deathclaw held her still and chirped a command like he would have back in their old pack in the desert. She paused. He sent a comforting gurgle through his modified throat. The sound wasn’t the same as it had been before his transformation, but she recognized it. It was the first familiar sound she had heard since she had been taken.

  Talon sent a questioning chirp back and they communicated that way for a while. It wasn’t a complex language by any means. It was more of a way to make general commands in battle, but it worked in calming her down.

  Hamford couldn’t see what was happening. Their struggle had taken them out of his line of vision. The sounds of struggle had ceased though. One of them had won. He edged closer to the transparent door, hoping to see a better angle. Were they behind one of the pillars? He pressed his face up to the door to get an angle into the side of the chamber and looked straight into a mouth full of teeth.

  Hamford cried out and fell backwards to the floor as the two dragons appeared in front of the door. Their bodies showed the results of the battle. The demon’s skin was in tatters and hung loosely, exposing muscle in several places, while Talon’s arms and legs were covered in deep gashes and she appeared to be limping. They were torn and bloodied, but they didn’t seem to be in pain. They seemed to be . . . happy.

  Not only were they no longer fighting, t
hey were working together. They chirped at each other and scratched at the seams around the door. Then the demon began clawing at the knob. How did they know he was in there? Why did they seem so determined to get at him.

  Hamford crawled into the far corner and curled into a little ball. The door was heavy and it was locked, but they were determined. He knew that it was only a matter of time before they broke in.

  Finally, he raised one shaky hand and pulled the only lever in the room that he hadn’t pulled yet. A heavy ramp lowered into the passageway behind the dragons. This one led to a surface tunnel.

  “Go,” Hamford pleaded. “Go . . . please.”

  Justan nearly laughed out loud when Gwyrtha appeared next to him, ripping out the chest of an orc with her claws. A goblin flew awkwardly through the air as Fist joined them. Justan didn’t need to introduce them. His two bonded seemed to know who each other was without explanation. There was no time for introductions anyway. The monsters pressed in and the bonded warriors fought together.