The blaze shot across the mountainside, burning the grass and sage. The tree exploded into torches and random wooden buildings across the city burst into flame.
Her claw-like fingers lost their hold and she fell and caught herself again. The darkness vanished and the desirable woman returned. “Help me. I’m slipping.”
“I banish you back from whence you came,” he said.
The monstrous form reappeared and raged with a voice that cracked foundations. “I will have my revenge!”
He slammed his sword down, shearing her grasp and she fell, broken by the wall of Tullan, just as Y’damantos had said. The sword fell with her, piercing the ground and the shred of his cloak, caught by the winds, wrapped itself about the hilt.
Flames belched from within the temple, and he raced to retrieve Nicene who was awake and coughing at the barrage of smoke and soot.
She saw him and clutched him. They kissed and held one another, wishing for more time.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so. You? You’re covered in blood and dirt.”
“I’m with you.”
Lightning flashed and thunder crackled. “Is it not over?” Nicene asked as rain fell, quenching the flames.
“I still have a few tricks,” spoke Y’damantos, clutching his bloody stomach. His beard was singed and he did not look well.
“Are you?”
“No, I’m dying. I thought I knew when and where, but even prophecy is not always clear.” He dropped to the ground, against a blackened area. “See that. I thought I would die near the black sands of Dar-Alhambra. But no, nothing so exotic. Just a burned patch of Aldreth.”
“You can’t die here. You told me you had ten more years at least,” argued the Sellsword, clutching the hedge wizard’s hand.
“Gods move the world, but who moves the gods?” asked Y’damantos in a whisper, rather pleased with himself. There was a smile on his lips, and then he was still.
30. The Reveal
In the morning, the King’s guard rode into the city. “Where is he?” shouted Niels, the captain.
“Who?” asked a man at the gates.
“The big Sellsword.”
“Don’t know, but there was a big ruckus up at the temple of Boha-Annu. We had lightning storms and wildfires everywhere. I’d say it was the wizards, but they’re all dead. Folk say it was that big Sellsword that did them in. Maybe he did that too.”
“That big Sellsword, is the King. Gathelaus,” corrected Niels.
“The Usurper?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” said the man at the gates, with brows raised, “ain’t that a thing.”
THE END
For now
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my wife Melissa, and Jana S. Brown, Jay Barnson, Nathan Shumate, Dave Butler, Paul McNamee, Jason King, James Wymore, Craig Nybo, Bob Defendi, Dan Swenson, Doug, Kevin, Duece, Jason, Jon, Jeffro, Brian, the other Jon and the rest of the pulp rev gang, Thank you all for your help.
About the Author:
James Alderdice aka David J. West writes dark fantasy and weird westerns because the voices in his head won’t quiet until someone else can hear them. He is a great fan of sword & sorcery, ghosts and lost ruins, so of course he lives in Utah in with his wife and children.
You can visit him online at:
http://www.kingdavidjwest.com/
https://twitter.com/David_JWest
http://david-j-west.tumblr.com/
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BRUTAL: An Epic Grimdark Fantasy Page 25