Camry dropped the tight choke she kept on her natural draw of magic. She tried to keep it focused on the area Khain had pointed out, but without a physical connection, it was difficult to pinpoint. The magic began to shred from the spell, pulling away on wafts of smoke and reflections. Golas screeched and clung to his head as the invisibility spell was torn apart. There was more to break, but she stopped, not wanting to hurt her mentor anymore. She felt a needling at her mind as she blinked at Golas. For an instant, he didn’t look familiar, but she pushed that thought away, convinced it was Arkhed trying to trick her.
Khain felt Arkhed’s control trying to wrap around him, trying to solidify his body, binding him. His vision blurred, confused, even as Golas cried out from Camry destroying his spell. A spell bound Khain physically as the image of Golas came back into focus, and Arkhed continued to tamper with his thoughts. As much as he wanted to reach Golas, Khain couldn’t move. The hold from the mage’s spell pinned him in place as Arkhed ripped at his perceptions, confusing what he was seeing, making him unsure what was real.
Camry cried out and collapsed, as something smashed into her mind, almost breaking her barrier. It hammered at her, cracking and chipping faster than she could think to repair her mental stone wall. The shrapnel dug at her thoughts, speared her with pain. Like a viper coiled around her rock, her center, striking with its fangs. It tried to poison her, venom dripped in the cracks. Her muscles cramped as Arkhed’s thoughts rippled over her. Her tendons strained and her bones creaked. The pressure became so intense, the new skin over her freshly healed wound ripped open. Arkhed’s desire to lap at her blood drew a choked whimper from her lips.
Slear blinked, thinking the glow from the magical attacks had momentarily blinded him. Golas’s body seemed to blur but snapped back into view. The elf recovered from the breaking of his spell and lashed out at the Icren-Lord, the last one left who could endanger him. He broke pieces of the stone table off with spells, hurling them at Slear. The stones smashed into him, bruising and cracking bones. Little shards stabbed at him, slicing his exposed skin, and some embedded in his flesh where the armor didn’t cover. The rocks became a storm, whirling around Slear like a tornado. He had no way of protecting himself from the assault. The stones were only propelled by magic, if he didn’t touch the spell, it wouldn’t shatter.
Outside the volcano, waves of cirKad died in a vain attempt to overwhelm DraKar. He hovered above them, his wings wide, but unmoving, as his magic held him aloft, out of range of their claws and teeth. The cirKad on the ground couldn’t reach him, but he didn’t ignore them, wanting to keep their interest. Large groups were killed by a dark fire that completely consumed flesh.
The fliers swirled around him, diving and clawing, but were repelled by spells and his shield. Most that came too close were caught in deadly gales and smashed into the cirKad on the ground. For all the chaos, he caused among Arkhed’s creations, he was motionless, only his eyes and head moved to observe the destruction and meet each new hazard. No more creatures came from the volcano, but the field below was crowded with cirKad, and their fliers darkened the skies around him.
The cirKad had no strategy, no coordinated attack. It was like Arkhed had directed them outside and released control for them to attack with a mindless, feral, rage.
Then Arkhed’s attack began, the sound of screeching, metal on metal, deafened DraKar. In his mind, Arkhed scraped at the edges, pulling at loose threads. A forgotten memory to draw DraKar’s attention away from his magic. Something to trip his concentration, a tickle of uncertainty. Finally, he latched onto a cold fear. DraKar wouldn’t be able to hold out long enough for his companions.
A thought nagged at the edge of DraKar’s barrier, maybe it was why he had waited to try and rescue Golas. A hiss of suggestion that he wanted Golas to suffer, to feel a hint of the centuries of torture he and Armagon had endured. A shimmer of what was happening inside the volcano was forced into his mind. Golas was broken, lost to Arkhed’s whim. They were too late to save the elf. An unbidden thought rode the images, I’m always too slow to save anyone.
Distracted, DraKar scrambled to focus on the fliers about to bombard him. Arkhed was dragging doubts before him, offering them like sacrifices. Scraping claws ripped gaping wounds through his reasoning. It forced him to take his attention away from his magic and focus on deflecting Arkhed’s temptations, threats, and doubts. His levitation faltered, and he groaned, wanting to thrash and free himself from the barbs of Arkhed’s mind.
He was losing the battle against the Fallen. Soon, he wouldn’t have control, and if he fell to the cirKad below, he would be slaughtered. Already he could feel his shield weakening, his focus was being stripped as the assault on his mind drew his attention from what was around him. He turned to flee to the other side of the river, and Arkhed showed him Camry writhing on the ground, screaming in agony as she clutched at her head. Khain was trapped, slowly being shredded from within. The battle between Golas and Slear was leaving the Icren-Lord’s blood on the ground. His companions were in trouble, losing the battle inside the volcano, while he fled.
Guilt swelled up within him, he was leaving them to their deaths. Leaving the ones he’d led here. Again, others would die, and he would live on.
DraKar banked back, his flight urgent, past all the creatures trying to destroy him. His wings beat at the air, faster than the fliers who tried to catch him. They all seemed so slow now, languid in their pursuit. A sensation of dark oil filling his mind offered a promise, that if he reached the others in time, he could counter Golas, he could stop the bombardment on Slear, and the spell holding Khain. A part of him, trying to escape the oily promise, knew he wasn’t supposed to go into the caves, but it slowly succumbed to the reasoning that he could save his three companions, and maybe Golas. It would be worth joining them, to help them.
“Earth’s bones,” Madger cursed as DraKar flew over them toward the volcano.
“He was supposed to go back to the ruins if Arkhed attacked him!” Morkleb said.
“He didn’t have time, he didn’t get far enough away,” Seal muttered.
“No more slinking, lass,” Kharick said.
The four of them hurried toward the volcano, trying to beat DraKar inside. They had to reach Arkhed before DraKar killed the others. It was a nearly futile race, they entered the lower cave at the same time as DraKar, but he didn’t have to run. Flying was always faster.
DraKar swept into one of the caves, the straightest path seemed so clear, just two more corridors and he would be with his friends. He drew his sword, the thought that it would save them seeped into his mind.
DraKar found the room, chipped and broken, with stones scattered across the floor. Camry screamed when he entered, desperate to get away from him. Her body twisted in pain as she tried to command it to move, while Arkhed’s attack coiled tighter around her mind. If DraKar was in the room, it meant Arkhed had control of the big sarpand. The deadly sword that had removed Asmodeus’s head hovered over her, and she tried to crawl away.
Slear staggered away from DraKar, blood dripping from his head, and one of his ears was torn. He scanned the room, trying to see past the rocks that bombarded him. Arkhed had to be close to affect all of his companions at once. A shadow quivered in the dark at the far wall, and he rushed toward it.
DraKar staggered, feeling himself slipping under a strong assault on his mind. He tried to beat back the living shadows surging in his thoughts. He needed to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. He wasn’t sure if Golas was against the left wall, or if it was an illusion shimmering there. Armagon’s voice ghosted in his mind, through his shattered defenses, telling him to stop Slear, to kill the Icren-Lord. Some secluded part of him knew that was wrong, and he struggled to reconcile it against what the faint whispering was urging.
Slear stabbed at the figure in the shadows, sure Arkhed was hiding there. He felt resistance and shouldered into the darkness, breaking the spell protecting his target. Too late, he saw Go
las. Too late, he made out the elf’s features. His spear impaled the elf through the gut. He didn’t understand how Golas had moved from the left wall to this one. Looking back to where the elf had been discovered, when they had entered the room, he saw the illusion fade from Arkhed.
Golas grasped at the haft of the weapon that pierced him, his hands barely able to encircle it. Pain and fear reflected in his eyes as he cast a final spell. A shard of rock broke from the table, long and sharp, and he sent it careening toward Slear. The point of the rock broke through the back of the Icren-Lord’s skull and burst the bones of his face.
Slear’s body collapsed, the heavy bulk hit hard against the stone floor. Golas coughed up blood, his face paled, as he slumped to the ground as well.
Arkhed’s crooked spine stretched his diseased skin. The Fallen had once stood as tall as Slear, but his body was hunched over and twisted, wings shrunken and crooked against his back in a painful, mismatched shape. His limbs seemed to be disjointed, and any muscle present was strained, while the bones within looked as if they were pushing to get out. His head could have once been recognizable as an icren, the large ears hung limply, scars, holes, and scabs all over them. Arkhed’s face was wrinkled, withered, sunken, his skull protruded as if his body should have already been dead and decayed. His eyes were yellowed and mucus leaked from them like a mockery of tears. Arkhed’s mouth was pulled back in an eternal snarl of pain and cruelty.
Seal burst into the room with the others at her back, and Madger dropped the invisibility spell. Seal gave a cry at the sight of Slear’s corpse. She spun and pulled a slim knife from her bandolier. Her arm twitched, denying her direction to throw the knife at Arkhed. She continued to turn, putting her back to Arkhed and faced DraKar who stood dumbstruck, staring at the bodies of Slear and Golas, his sword hung limp in his hand.
“You let them die!” Seal screamed and lunged at him.
“Oi, lass!” Kharick tried to stop her attack.
A low cloud of depression tamped down on DraKar. Of course it was his fault. Seal was right. He dropped his sword and waited for her to kill him. Only Kharick’s quick lunge interfered and the three of them went down in a heap.
Madger and Morkleb entered, barely passing the doorway. She built a fire in her hand to fling at Arkhed but Morkleb slapped her hand aside, shattering the spell.
“Killing is wrong,” Morkleb proclaimed. Thesda taught that everyone could be redeemed. He would have to show the rest of them that. He would save Arkhed.
Madger couldn’t recover from her broken spell in time to dodge his fist. Morkleb followed her as she staggered out of the room.
“Ancient,” Madger cursed and shoved Morkleb away.
Khain wiggled his fingers, he was free of the hold spell. DraKar was in the room. He wasn’t supposed to be in the room. Seal and Kharick were in a pile with him. This was wrong. He turned away from Arkhed, not seeing him, and swung his staff at DraKar.
The staff crashed against DraKar’s back and wing, making him arch away from the bone cracking force with a roar. The fog of depression burned away with a rage all his own. His eyes swirled to red and he sent Seal and Kharick tumbling off of him, out of the way of Khain’s blows. He strained to keep Khain’s weapon from striking him again, but the assassin was too fast for him to counter and keep his sanity from Arkhed at the same time. Trying to focus on crafting a spell was beyond the ability of his strained mind. Khain’s scythe blades glanced off his armor, and the shaft crashed into him again.
Camry felt Arkhed slip; his mind pushed to its limit to control all of them, while calling all of his creations to save him. She still fought off the attacks on her mental barrier, but she could focus on moving now. Tears of pain and grief blurred her vision. Golas was dead, as was Slear.
Camry dragged herself closer to Arkhed, below his field of vision as he focused on Khain and DraKar. Her muscles ached from the cramping lock Arkhed had forced on her. The vileness slithered outside her rock, still banging and chipping at it, trying to reach what lay within, but the assault lessened.
Kharick and Seal fought, rolling toward Slear’s body. In the hall Madger smashed Morkleb against a wall, knocking him unconscious.
Camry lifted herself to a kneeling position on the floor, panting from the effort. She dragged her sword up and thrust. The blade pierced Arkhed’s gut, and he gasped a sad whine. The might of his power focused on Camry, and as he collapsed, he hammered her a final time, slamming a crashing darkness into her mind.
Camry lost consciousness as the rest of them were freed from Arkhed’s influence. Though the mad creatures Arkhed had been calling were still charging through the caves. Khain staggered back from DraKar and his staff slid away into his fluid body. He held his empty hands up, now in control of his actions. DraKar’s eyes settled back to amber but the sound of the cirKad was getting closer.
A teleport spell would have been easier to cast, taking nothing more than a breath and a thought, but an icren would break the spell if it was cast on one. He had to create a gateway, not a permanent one like what the portals to the Hells were, but a simpler one that remained in Limbo. It still took a majority of his remaining magic to craft it. A large, shimmering, reflective orb took up half the room.
“Bring the damn cleric,” DraKar bellowed.
Madger snatched up Morkleb and hurried back into the room. Khain picked up Camry and led the way through the gateway. Kharick and Seal leaned on each other and limped through. DraKar stood alone in the room with the bodies. He sighed and his wings sagged, but immediately flinched from the motion and cracked bones. He gritted his teeth and pulled the spear from Golas’s gut. He couldn’t carry Slear’s body without magic, and any spell would shatter upon touching him. He picked up the elf with a grimace, and followed the group through the gateway as the cirKad roared down the hallway.
The spell brought the group to the hilltop ruins. When DraKar exited the gateway the spell ended and he knelt with a shudder, weakened of magic and strength. He laid Golas’s body in the tall grass while clutching at his ribs. Blood dripped from several strikes that had cut through his armor. Khain checked on Camry, a slim smooth tendril of his alchemical being slipped under her skin, below her ear. He tapped into her brain, sensing her through the physical connection. She was alive and seemed whole. Madger cradled Morkleb in her arms her face strained with worry and developing bruises.
DraKar stood, but remained hunched over, his injured wing hung weakly to the side. “How is she?”
Khain pulled away from Camry’s brain. “Alive. I don’t think he caused any permanent harm.”
DraKar nodded. “The cleric?”
Morkleb moaned in Madger’s arms. She gave a meager smile. “I think he’ll be all right.”
“Go back to the hut. I’ll tend to Golas’s remains.”
After they went down the hill, and could no longer see him, DraKar summoned just enough heat around his broken bones to keep them from shifting. The other injuries he would suffer for a night to avoid questions. To avoid being looked at like a demon, healing by fire.
He resolved to burn Golas’s corpse. It seemed fitting the mage’s body should be consumed with magic. First, he checked the pouches on the elf’s belt. Perhaps there was something left there that might comfort Camry when she woke? He found Golas’s coin purse, a mundane silver ring, a stale biscuit, and a leather pouch with something hard in it. The coins and ring he would give to Camry, but whatever was in the pouch had powerful, subtle magic infused in it. Carefully pulling the drawstrings open, he saw a smooth stone, silver and gray, like polished hematite. A leather tracing was woven around it, encapsulating it, so it might be worn as a bracelet or a choker. The enchantment was similar to the one on the crystals Golas had given him and Armagon, a Legacy Crystal.
DraKar didn’t want to think about the memories Golas’s crystal might hold, and tugged the drawstrings closed. He would keep the crystal, not sure what would happen to it if Camry touched it. The draw on the magic might s
imply break it, or something worse could happen to her.
He stepped back from the elf’s corpse and cast the spell to incinerate it. For a moment, he watched the ashes try and fight the gentle breeze pulling at them, but slowly the pile began to break away and disappear on the wind. He had no words to offer the dead elf. He rolled a shoulder, winced, and settled his wings. The fire spells would have been minor uses of power, but he’d used much against the cirKad, and the gateway spell was one of the largest and most draining.
DraKar left the ashes and returned to the hut. Khain was idly looking through the grass dolls Slear had on a shelf, little seed pods represented wings on the faceless facsimiles.
Khain held one up as DraKar entered. “The kadmoni make these.”
Seal stood and with swollen fingers plucked one with white hair. “This was mine. He helped raise me.” Her voice broke and tears spilled from her eyes, one surrounded by a darkening bruise.
“I’m sorry, lass,” Kharick offered.
Seal turned and hugged him. He let her sob on his shoulder.
Madger sat in the overly large rocking chair with Morkleb in her lap. She hugged him to her, and rocked him, the chair making soft creaking noises.
DraKar looked to Slear’s bed where Camry lay sleeping. “What will the cirKad do without Arkhed controlling them?”
Khain replaced the doll. “Fight for dominance, eat each other. Eventually, they’ll leave to find prey.”
“No reason to be in the portal cave?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll show Madger how to open the portal to the Mortal plane and you four can leave.” He pulled down the jug of Dark Water and took a long drink, not bothering with a cup. “If Camry is awake by then she can go where she wants, otherwise I’ll take her to Meerwood to recover.”
Seal lifted her head from Kharick’s shoulder. “You’re staying here?”
“I need time to recover my magic before going home.” He didn’t bother to hide the flinch at the term. Would Meerwood ever be home again? Were there too many memories of Armagon built into the town for him to ever see a corner and not think of his brother? Drunah often ghosted in his thoughts while there. He repressed the worry. “Maybe bury Slear, if there’s anything left.” He dropped into a chair. “Get some rest.”
The Titan's Tome (The Mortal Balance Book 1) Page 37