A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) (51 page)

But she had seen it coming, felt it as clearly as if it was an extension of her
own body. She easily weaved underneath the attacks, coming in close along the beast's side, surprising the creature with the audacity of her movement. It snapped weakly back at her, more out of reflex than any attempt to do any real damage.

In response, sh
e slammed the pommel of her sword hard against the thing's face, the crunch of bone bringing a grim smile. She had fractions of a second before it could retaliate but it was enough for her to bring the sword down, a quick slice that lit another angry furrow in its flesh.

Selene wanted to plunge the sword deep into the beast, to end its life right there. But doing so would have been suicidal; there was no way she could have done so safely. The moment it took to kill would have exposed her in turn. She could
take such risks if it was only her, but she had Marcius to worry about too.

So she slipped away, holding the sword in front of her as a safety barrier between her and the beast. Another burst of strength flowed through her, and it was by pure chance that a
s it happened, she focused briefly on the sword.

Droplets of blood traveled along the blade, like tiny insects swarming to the inlaid jewel. There they settled before being sucked in, leaving the metal shining, resplendent. There was a corresponding influx
of power through her.

The sword was supporting her with the blood of her enemy! Every drop she spilled strengthened her. It went against the teaching of Avalene! Death was now life. Selene felt sickened by the thought, even as the energy flowed through he
r, filling her muscles with power and alleviating her lethargy.

The moment of distraction, the temporary disorientation of her battle-mind, was all it needed. The beast batted aside her sword, rushing forward, bearing her down to the ground.

They crashed a tangle of claw and limbs, and Selene thrashed, attempting to wriggle free. She ignored the pain screaming from her arm. It all didn't matter if she couldn't escape. Somehow her good hand had found its way to the underside of the beast's throat, her forearm the last barrier between it engulfing her head within its massive mouth.

The claws dug deep pits into the tops of her arm as it tried to bring its jaws down. Their eyes met, the single deep pitiless orb contrasting with the bloody socket th
at she’d made with her dagger. There was a momentary contest of wills, as the innate mesmeric powers of the beast sought to dominate her. Elves were more resistant to such things and she roared in kind, pushing against the thing's throat with everything she had.

Her resistance must have caught it by surprise, for she managed to wiggle free, stumbling and crawling in her haste to put distance between them. The strength stolen by sword was all that kept her upright, but even that had its limitations.

It growled, charging in, an eager glint in its single eye. Selene made a split decision, a single, act of desperation. She accepted the charge head on, rolling with the force of their impact. As she did so, the beast's jaws clamped down around her shoulder, and she slipped the sword up and under its ribs.

She spit in the things face, twisting the sword savagely even further up into the chest cavity. It was remarkably sharp, cutting through the flesh easily, dowsing her in blood and gore. The beast looked at her wit
h a curious expression before the single eye rolled back in its head.

She had won.

Victory had probably come at the cost of her life, but she was secure in that knowledge, even as the numbness began to spread out from her shoulder. As long as Marcius made it, as long as she fulfilled her duty, this sacrifice was worth it.

A small shudder escaped her lips as the two crumpled to the ground.

Chapter 30

M
arcius saw the elf fall, saw her covered by the body of the creature, a macabre blanket of now twitching flesh. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came forth.

No, it couldn't be!

He gritted his teeth, yelling internally at his unresponsive body as he struggled to reach her, crawling on the ground like a half-starved mongrel. An eternity seemed to pass before he was able to reach her, and even more time before he was able to summon the strength to nudge the beast enough to pull her out. He laid her head on his lap and leaned back, sucking in air rapidly, exhausted.

Marcius paused briefly to wipe
the sweat from his brow, the salt stinging his eyes painfully. He looked down at Selene, numbly running his hand gently down the side of her cheek. Her skin was so soft, and her hair cascaded around her like a yellow pool. He brushed a few strands from her face.

No, it couldn't end like this.

He forced himself to calm down, to order his thoughts. The basics of field care came to his mind. Jared had been adamant about it, saying that one never knew the situations you might find yourself in. Well, the swordsman had been right about that. He could only hope that elven bodies were similar in need.

Marcius held his hand over the elf's mouth. There was the slight intake and exhalation of air that indicated that though he couldn't see her breathing, it was nonetheless there. But it was weak, barely hanging on, a whisper in the dark.

Think! His chest was so numb. It was hard to focus his thoughts.

He looked her over, grimacing at the condition she was in. Her clothing was tattered, and the majority of her was soaked in blood, from the deep crimson of her own, to the sickly black of the beast's. He didn't
know where it all started and where it ended.

Her hand was still tightly gripped onto the sword, which was buried in the chest of the creature. Marcius tried disengaging her hand from it, but the fingers were tightly locked and eventually he gave up.

“Even dying she's stronger than me,” he whispered aloud, despair settling in the depths of his chest.

He looked at the mess again, taking it all in. Marcius didn't know where to start. But he couldn't just sit there and allow her to bleed out and die, either.
A lightning strike of inspiration hit him.

The amulet!

Marcius pulled out the amulet from his pouch. As he did so, the jewel fell out, rolling, the facets flickering wildly with dark ruby light. For a moment, he considered leaving it. If this was the artifact Velynere wanted. . . well, it wasn't worth Selene's life. But in the end, he gave in. If he left it, he'd have come here and possibly lost the elf all for nothing. He picked it up, the jewel hard in his hands.

Then he looked at the amulet, squeezing it lightly between his fingertips. He called out for help, trying to put as much empathy and desperation in his plea as he could. Marcius imagine
d the message being sent across the nether, eventually reaching the mind of the mage.

He waited, the minutes passing in hopeful optimism. But it was not to be. No one responded, beyond the oppressing silence of expectation. He wasn't even sure if his myste
rious companion had even been Velynere, though he was certain that it had something to do with the amulet. There was that attack on him, and why would the mage attack someone doing him a favor?

Nothing made sense anymore. Then who, or what, was it? Maybe h
e was just going crazy.

It was then that he heard a noise behind him. A now familiar sound that had him turning around in disbelief. He was just in time to see the two sections of wall finish sliding up, revealing two more nether beasts. They stalked in ca
utiously, nostrils flaring as they gazed around.

They, too, were twisted mockeries of real creatures, a weird blend of random animal parts, distorted beyond anything more than vague recognition. One had a serpentine tail that swished eagerly, excitedly twi
tching at each apex.

This couldn't be! Any vestiges of hope drained away at the sight of the two figures. Selene was down and he could barely hold himself upright. What was he supposed to do?

It wasn't fair! Everyone had given up so much for him. Alicia put herself at risk, Jared wagered his family reputation, his father and Master had given themselves and Selene. . .

He had come this far
. . .

In the end, he couldn't really do anything worthwhile
. . .

It all made him so angry. All he wanted was to practi
ce magic. That was it. Why was everything getting so complicated?

Something inside of him snapped. He hated these things, these abominations in front of him.

He wanted them to die!

The jewel responded to his anger, his indignation, flaring to life in his h
ands, a beacon of violent red light. Electricity roared through his veins, and his body started to shake.

It was like that time back at the beach, only more focused, pointed. Marcius had a target in mind as he glared at the two beasts, which had the foresi
ght to take a few steps back, unsure of this new development.

He stood easily, the wound in his chest sealing shut. The smell of burnt flesh joining the copper tang in the air. He touched the now closed wound with a detached sense of purpose. It would leav
e a slight scar, a fact which annoyed him.

There was so much nether flowing through him that it made waves in the air, visible even without nether sight. What was this? Marcius felt unfettered, like a kite cut free. Was this true freedom?

He took a step forward, the ground cracking, shifting under his feet. Marcius felt invincible. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced with magic. There was no spell casting, no sigils, no awkward shaping of spells. He wasn't even using his familiar! It was as if he was a fish, navigating the twisting turmoil of the nether, like an ocean. He was a part of it. He commanded and it obeyed.

Marcius merely reached out. He felt it, shaped it, and gave it purpose, all in the blink of an eye. The one beast grunted and its
expression one of unwelcome surprise. Its skin, a mixture of scale and tissue, began to bubble; large bulges that made the already malformed creature change from intimidating to ridiculous.

The bubbles became larger and its face changed from surprise, to f
ear, to unbridled agony in the moment before it exploded, showering its partner and everything around it in blood and flesh.

Marcius blinked, impressed with the results and not entirely sure how he did it. This was true power, far surpassing even that mino
r incident with the oggron. He controlled it, and, by proxy, these silly creatures that dared attack him. The power was intoxicating, a pure rush of empowerment.

Two more sections of walls slid back, two more beasts joining the one remaining. Marcius laugh
ed and they hurled themselves at him with the sense of abandonment of the helplessly hopeless. It was child's play. He didn't want them close, and so they hit an invisible barrier, barely an arm reach from Marcius.

They railed against it in frustration, an
d Marcius conjured a globe of fire, the spinning orb a brilliant promise of death. It zoomed toward the one beast, enveloping it in fire. Marcius left it flailing in agony as he pumped nether into his limbs, strengthening them beyond normal limits.

He push
ed through the barrier and overtook the surprised pair, his hands coming up painfully to their respective midsections, the power lifting the nine-foot creatures up like children. He reversed the motion, windmilling his arms, his hands too quick to follow as they came down, hammering the monsters back to the floor with enough force that they bounced.

His eyes burned as the nether flowed through his body and the air hummed with power. He was a wire stretched taut, walking the delicate edge of breaking. More m
onsters streamed out, at least a score, surrounding him.

Marcius was still angry; he snarled in defiance, his brain having shut down. He was fighting on pure instinct now, nether firing through his synapses faster and faster.

They would all die.

He flicked
his hand, a whip of air coming to life in his hands as he did so. The edges flickered with blue power and as it came around, following the motion of his hand, it took the legs of the closest, cleaving through them easily.

One beast slipped past the deadly
device, leaping the space between them. Marcius caught it mid-air with his other hand, his muscles now engorged with nether. He brought it in close, roaring in its face. The last thing it saw before he crushed its throat was the smoking green glow of deadly eyes that had no place on a human face.

Marcius cleaved through them, a single scythe in a field of wheat. But there were too many. They were starting to slip through, and one finally took advantage of an opening, coming down hard on his back, the unexp
ected weight causing even his nether enhanced legs to stumble.

That was all they needed, and he was buried underneath them.

No! It would not end like this! His rage multiplied, and he roared. All of the pent up power within him came rushing out, a massive wave that blew everything around him back. An explosion without a sound.

He was free. He stood up, intent on resuming the attack, but suddenly staggered. Vertigo threatened him. The attack had used up the power, and he was a marionette that had lost its st
rings.

“
Damn it all,” he muttered, unable to stop himself from falling forward, blacking out before he hit the ground.

“
You are awake.”

It was the first thing he heard. Marcius kept his eyes shut for a moment, disoriented. He was warm, comfortable.

Was he dead?

No, he decided, he wasn't. He opened his eyes and was greeted by the black stone ceiling that he recognized immediately. It was Selene's estate. Perhaps he was dreaming? Where were the ruins?

He was on a bed and to his side Selene was waiting patiently. She looked refreshed, with only her arm in a sling to indicate that she had been hurt at all.

“
We really have to stop meeting like this.” His weak joke drew a smile from the elf. “How?” Not the most elegant of questions, but his head still felt fuzzy.

“
Well, mostly it was you, whatever you did, and luck on my part.”

When it was obvious he didn't understand, so she patted the sword on her side. “
It was this. Saved my life.” Marcius now recognized it as the one they had found in the ruins, “It renews the wielder by using the blood of the slain.” Her tone one of disdain, “It was left in the body of one of those. . . things. That luck was all that kept me alive.”

Marcius licked his lips, wincing as they passed over cracked skin. “
Seems useful.”

The elf shru
gged. “Maybe. But it can be a curse. It can't cure exhaustion. There have been many wielders of this weapon in the past, from before Selenthia, which have died because they passed out on the field of battle. Of course they never felt weary, since the act of healing is pleasurable. They were unable to know when they were in danger.”

Marcius looked at the sword and the jewel stared back. He shivered. “
Are you going to keep it?”

Selene gave a crooked grin, “
Aye. Spoils of combat go to the victor, by Selenthian law. With war looming, I’ll take whatever advantage I can find. It’s also an artifact of our people. I’m bound to at least return it.”

He nodded, still wary. “
What happened? How did we escape?”

“
I do not know the entirety, but I will tell you what I remember.” She looked at him pointedly, “I awoke to find you unconscious, surrounded by statues of those things.”

That didn't make any sense. “
Statues?” he repeated, not sure if he had heard her correctly.

“
Yes, statues of stone. As if they were frozen in life, with terrible expressions upon their faces.  Though I cannot say I am complaining. I'm not sure what you did, but after that, the way out was revealed behind one of the walls. The passage way led to a false cliff face beyond the ruins. From there, I took a chance and used your amulet to navigate the Myst. We came out a few miles north of the borders. A patrol found us and escorted us back.”