Chains of a Dark Goddess (37 page)

A single blast from Blasidia’s crystal punched a hole through the Mûlkran line. Togisi and Blasidia slipped through and charged Breskaro.

He was still propped up by Kedimius, but his sorcerous heartbeat was regulating. His eyes brightened. Strength returned to his limbs. But not soon enough.

Blasidia lifted her matrix and called upon the power of Seshalla. 

A beam locked onto Breskaro, penetrated his armor, and blistered his skin. The copper wires of the Akythiri Mechanism heated, branding his skin from the inside and scorching the flesh beneath them. The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt before. He tried to hold out against it. He had wards cast onto his armor to help protect him, but they weren’t helping.

He convulsed and dropped his sword. The light blinded and blistered Nightsoul who bucked and spun away. Kedimius lost his grip and Breskaro plunged from the saddle.

Togisi lowered his lance and grinned wildly. “Let me have him,” he said to Blasidia as he urged his horse into a gallop.

Another beam struck Breskaro as he tried to rise, knocking him back down. His clothing and armor began to burn. He screamed in agony, rolling on the ground.

The priestess stopped her beam. 

Breskaro lifted his head and caught sight of Togisi bearing down on him.

“Magnos. I’ve strength enough for you.”

With a surge of adrenaline, Breskaro twisted and grabbed Togisi’s lance just before it struck, jamming the point into the ground. Togisi couldn’t let go fast enough. The impact knocked him out of his saddle. Breskaro lurched to his feet and picked up his sword. 

Kedimius raced toward High Priestess Blasidia as she aimed her crystal toward Breskaro and blasted him down again. She spotted Kedimius out of the corner of her eye but hesitated, not understanding which side he was on. She hesitated too long. With a sudden burst, Kedimius’ mount shot forward and he buried his sword in her chest. She toppled and dropped the crystal, which shattered when it struck the ground.

Togisi drew his sword and closed on Breskaro who was getting back up slowly. Kedimius rode in between them and attacked. 

Togisi parried the blow and snarled. “So you’re a traitor now as well.”

“I’ve chosen the side I know to be right.”

“It’ll be the death of you.”

“As long as I kill you first. I warned you there’d be a reckoning between us.”

Togisi smiled. A knight charged Kedimius. He turned and raised his shield, deflecting the Issalian axe-strike aimed at him. The impact knocked him backward and the deflected blade struck his helmet. Concussed, Kedimius fell. 

The Issalian knight rode past then spun round to help Togisi but a Valiant intercepted him.

Seizing the opportunity, Togisi leapt toward Kedimius who couldn’t raise his guard. “You’re at your end, traitor!”

But the General’s blade struck another’s with a resounding clang and a shower of sparks.

“I believe you forgot about me, Magnos.”

Togisi spun and faced Breskaro, their swords crossed. 

“Your war’s over, Breskaro. Look around you. Your Valiants and corpse warriors are failing. You’re losing your demons. Your flames have done their best, yet still we fight. We’ve still got far greater numbers and an equal desire to win.”

A conch horn blared in the distance, coming from the Plain of Kerokar. Croaking shouts followed it. 

Breskaro loosed a laugh like a raven’s caw. “Not over yet, old friend.”

Chapter 54

Screams of terror erupted amongst the rearguard of the Issalian army. Infantry, lancers, and reserves fled toward the rest of the battle in the pass, babbling hysterically about a mass of demons, a metal beast, and Harmulkot herself. 

Togisi stepped away and glanced back. “So your goddess makes her move at last.” Togisi parried a weak sword-stroke. “You still can’t win. Seshalla will see us through.”

“Seshalla is a lie, Magnos. But it doesn’t matter. You won’t live to see the outcome either way. I will have my vengeance on you now.”

They fought: blade against blade, anger against anger. Kedimius lay dazed nearby, struggling to recover his wits. Thinning Valiants and dismayed First and Second Lancers fought around them. 

Staggering, Breskaro defended himself and pressed the attack when he could. But he was injured by the blasts from the crystal and drained by the spells he had cast. 

Togisi cut Breskaro across the ribs, his saber slicing through Breskaro’s armor. Grimacing, Breskaro made a thrust at Togisi’s midsection but missed.

“You’re weak, Breskaro.”

“Weakened perhaps, but I can endure a thousand cuts such as that and still come for you.”

Magnos scowled. “Seshalla will meet my vengeance upon you.”

“Vengeance?! You were the one that betrayed me and eighty good men over a misunderstanding. A brief kiss when Deltenya forced herself on me. It was nothing more than that. You could have confronted me. I would’ve told you the truth. But instead you killed me.”

“Lies. Nothing but lies.”

Breskaro’s guard failed again and Togisi stabbed him in the stomach. Breskaro’s counter succeeded, but only enough to leave a shallow cut in Togisi’s forearm. 

Invigorated by rage, Togisi fought as hard as he’d ever fought in his long military career. He jabbed Breskaro high in the left shoulder, dodged a weak counter, and scored a cut across Breskaro’s thigh.

“You’re beaten, Breskaro. You can’t stop me.”

Blazing with illusory purple flames that to any soldier of Issalia conjured images of Torment, Harmulkot ghosted over Aleui who stood on Mot’s shoulders. Esha sat behind her, sling whirling and releasing bullets at the enemy. The metal beast tore through any Issalians who dared to stand against it. Behind it bounded over three thousand of the toad-like batrakosians savagely attacking their enemies with clubs and spears.

Only when they reached the First and Second Lancers and the finer elements of infantry Togisi had held in reserve did Harmulkot and the batrakosians meet resistance. Their progress slowed but they pushed forward, powered along by Mot and the fear Harmulkot inspired. Through three crusades the Issalians had seen little of the sorcery their church decried. Now, at last, they faced it head on.

Togisi’s blade flashed past Breskaro’s parry. The saber dented the bronze funeral mask, cut a gash above Breskaro’s right ear, and severed the cord holding the mask in place. Stunned, Breskaro stumbled back. The mask fell into the dust. Rather than striking a killing blow aimed at Breskaro’s neck, Togisi hesitated. His eyes were wide as he gazed on Breskaro’s ruinous face. 

A lead bullet zipped through mounts and riders and whizzed past Togisi’s nose, distracting him a moment.

Aleui, Harmulkot and Esha drew near, but Mot, battered by axe and blade, was becoming sluggish. His clawed feet plodded along. His tail no longer struck out but dragged the ground. There was no significant damage, nothing more than dents, but the ancient power plant within him was failing after days of galloping to Peithoom Swamp and then returning as fast as the batrakosians could manage.

Mot bit the head off a warhorse, half-heartedly. The falling rider struck Mot hard across the nose with his axe. The metal beast stumbled. 

General Togisi glanced at Harmulkot and narrowed his eyes. Breskaro swung wildly and overbalanced himself. Togisi darted in to a cut a line across Breskaro’s cheek.

Eyeing Togisi, Aleui held up her hand and chanted the
spell of darkfire
, the most powerful attack she could manage, one that would certainly drain her. Beside her, Esha was aiming a sling bullet at Togisi. 

An impassioned Issalian knight, blood-spattered, singing hymns of praise to Seshalla, broke free from a group of batrakosians. Unnoticed, he lowered his lance and charged Aleui. Mot stumbled as he approached. His lance missed Aleui but found a deadly home nonetheless. 

The lance punctured Esha’s side and drove deep through her ribs, lifting her from Mot’s back. Her slight body was held up in the air, skewered on the lance. 

“Esha!” Breskaro cried, dropping his guard entirely.

Togisi lunged in. His sword sliced through Breskaro’s ribcage and lodged beside his black qavra heart. With a howl of pain, Breskaro fell to his knees.

A sound like the snap of a spring echoed from within Mot. Steam billowed out from its eyes and it collapsed with a groan and a clattering crash like a dozen metal shields thrown together into a pit. Aleui tumbled to the ground.

A trumpet sounded on the Plains of Kerokar. Hooves thundered to the beats of a battle hymn. A light like a ray of sun came across the battlefield. In rode the Scarlet Guard and the White Guard, led by the radiant figure of the Matriarch with the Crystal Sword of Seshalla glowing like a bolt of pure sunlight in her hand.

Chapter 55

The embattled Issalians began to cheer, recognizing the notes on the horn. The light carried by the Matriarch vanquished the afternoon shadows that had deepened in the pass. Batrakosians fled before her, those that weren’t struck down by the White Guard. All the crusaders fought with renewed zeal and the Mûlkran lines at the far end of the pass began to collapse.

Breskaro was struggling to rise up from his knees.
Esha ... Orisala ... I must...
Dark ichor poured from his wounds. Even over the battlefield stench of blood and bowels came the spicy aroma of embalming fluid.

Togisi twisted the sword maliciously. Breskaro cried out. 

“Have I found your weakness, Breskaro?” Togisi laughed and turned the sword again. “It’s over now. The Matriarch has come with the White Guard. You don’t have a chance.”

Breskaro’s fading eyes scanned the battlefield until he spotted Esha, lying face down in a pool of blood, a broken lance protruding from her back. Aleui, still appearing as Harmulkot, was fighting back to back with Whum against a squad of Issalian knights who had surrounded them. Whum would dodge attacks then jab with his daggers. Aleui defended with her night-black shield and swung about with her spiked mace. The Valiants, no more than a dozen remained of them, and they were too far away to help. 

Kedimius was nearest to Breskaro. He was sitting up but his eyes rolled as he faded in and out of consciousness.

“Kedimius,” Breskaro whispered, inaudibly over the battle and the blaring trumpets. “Help ... Orisala ... must...”

The Akythiri Mechanism
! 

Breskaro cried out in pain again. His flesh was dead. He had no other choice but to try it.

He looked at the Matriarch and the White Guard streaming into the pass. The brilliance of the Crystal Sword of Seshalla was overwhelming. 

No choice.

Togisi shoved the blade deeper in, prying at Breskaro’s qavra heart. Breskaro placed his hands on his own chest and activated the Akythiri Mechanism. Waves of energy pulsed through him. The wires that threaded through him grew hot again. The device hummed and a wisp of smoke spiraled out from the unit on the back of his neck.

Suddenly, Breskaro was standing in the Shadowland, inside the circle of standing stones, again facing the Keeper of Death. Breskaro glanced about in utter confusion, not understanding.

The Keeper cocked his head and blinked his beady black eyes. “You should not be here.”

Breskaro, feeling no pain anymore, replied, “Why am I here?
I’ve got to go back
!”

“I do not know how this is possible,” the Keeper of Death said. “It is most ludicrous. Torment, yes, but not back here to me. How?”

“You’ve got to send me
back
. I’ve got to save Orisala. I’ve got to save Esha, Kedimius ... Harmulkot, Whum, Aleui. All lost without me. The whole city will fall. The people...”

The Keeper stepped toward him, his head now cocked to the other side. “Have you found a heart and purpose after all, Breskaro Varenni? A heart that can love more than one or two who yet live? Even despite death? Despite your withered soul?”

“Yes,” Breskaro snipped, “I have a purpose again. A better one this time. To defend those I love and those whom I call friends, and I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll break the world if I must.”

“A man with a heart that truly beats, sorcerous and wretched or not, is a man who does not belong in the Shadowland. Love is a powerful thing. From a spark to a flame, you have gone. Break the world if you dare. But your passion is too strong for the Shadowland. This is not a place for love.” 

The Keeper unfurled his wings and stepped forward. “You are still, of course, ultimately doomed. Torment will gladly take the passionate.” He placed a hand over Breskaro’s chest. “I find it best to think on love when gathering my strength.”

Breskaro closed his eyes and pictured Orisala, Esha, Kedimius, Whum, even Harmulkot and Aleui. 

The Keeper of Death shoved him backward. “Return!”

His consciousness returned to the world of the living. The emerald flames ignited, filling his eyes and leaking out from the corners. His qavra heart beat strong and proud, with as much life-force as after he had consumed Deltenya. The bleeding stopped; wounds healed; strength returned to his limbs.

Breskaro’s deathly pale face wrinkled into a deep smile. He launched upward and kicked Togisi in the chest. Then he punched Togisi’s right hand which was grasping the hilt of his longsword. Togisi lost his grip and fell back. Breskaro pulled the sword out of his chest, spoke a single word of power, and the blade erupted in darkfire.