Death Bringer (36 page)

He reached the cavern floor, and Melancholia floated down on a gentle wave of shadows. They faced each other.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” she said.

“I dare say I'm not,” Skulduggery responded.

He strode towards her and she smiled, and her eyes glowed brighter, and he stiffened. His gloved hands fell from his wrists, and the bones of his arms slipped through his shirtsleeves to clatter to the rock floor. His knees buckled, his legs parting from his shoes as his body collapsed on to itself. His ribcage bulged against his shirt and his head hit the ground and rolled, the jawbone spinning away.

Valkyrie breathed out, the air emptying from her lungs. She was still and quiet and cold. She was calm. Melancholia had taken Skulduggery's soul. Without his soul, there was no magic to keep his body together. Now it was just a skeleton, just a heap of old bones. He was gone. He was gone and Melancholia had taken him from her.

Melancholia smiled. “That was easy,” she said.

Valkyrie breathed in, breathed in all her pain and anger and fury. She breathed in all those things she wanted to tell him, but now never could, all those words she wanted to say, but now never would. She breathed in her strength and her horror and her loss, let it fill her, let it fill every inch of her, and then she screamed, threw Skulduggery's jacket to one side and jumped, using the air to propel her down towards Melancholia like a bullet. Melancholia laughed and flicked a hand, and the shadows rose to slam Valkyrie into the cavern ceiling. They vanished and she fell, trying to use the air to cushion her landing, but another shadow wrapped itself around her waist and yanked her sideways. A second flick of Melancholia's wrist and Valkyrie was hurled into the wall. The impact forced the breath out of her, and she dropped and lay there, gasping.

A shadow tightened around her ankle, and she groaned as she was lifted off the ground. She dangled, swaying, trying to breathe, upside down and at eye level with Melancholia.

“Such an anti-climax,” Melancholia said. “Isn't it? Can't you feel it? With all the animosity between us, all those jibes, all that history… And here, right at the end, we have our final showdown and you… you are found wanting, as they say.” Melancholia leaned in. “Goodnight, Valkyrie. It's been irrelevant.”

The shadows rose around them, turned sharp, and Valkyrie snarled, grabbed Melancholia's hair and slammed her forehead into that smirking face. White light exploded behind her eyes, the shadows vanished and Valkyrie fell as Melancholia stumbled back, howling in pain. Valkyrie blinked, struggling to get her bearings. She managed to get to her feet, but she was so dazed she fell to one knee again. Melancholia cursed and staggered around, blood pumping from her nose. She stumbled right in front of Valkyrie and Valkyrie lunged, smashed into her, taking her to the ground. She dropped elbows and palm shots, barely able to focus, only knowing that she couldn't let up, not even to catch her breath.

“Craven!” Melancholia cried. “Get her off me!”

And still Valkyrie hit her, trying to get through the arms that Melancholia held up to protect her head. Not one thought was given to Craven. Craven wasn't important. The only important thing was to smash Melancholia into unconsciousness.

“Craven!” Melancholia screamed.

A fist of shadows collided with Valkyrie, shunting her off, sending her sprawling. Melancholia clambered to her feet as Craven hurried over.

“Are you OK?” he asked. “Is there anything I can—”

Melancholia reached out, and a tendril of darkness coiled around Craven's neck and tightened. “You were going to leave me,” she snarled, spitting blood. “You were going to let her kill me.”

“No,” Craven gasped.

“You wanted her to kill me, so that you wouldn't have to try and do it yourself, didn't you?”

Craven dropped to his knees, his face red, his eyes bulging.

Melancholia stood over him. “But you're too much of a coward even for that, aren't you? You couldn't take the risk that she wouldn't be able to finish me. You were terrified of what I'd do to you.”

Craven was unable to speak. The only thing he could do was nod. The tendril released him and he fell forward, sucking in air.

“You'd do well to remember that fear,” Melancholia said, as she turned back to Valkyrie. Blood covered her face. Her lips were split and her nose appeared to be broken.

Valkyrie got up slowly, fists clenched. She suddenly flicked her hand, grabbing shadows of her own, but Melancholia brushed them aside. Darkness curled around Valkyrie's arm and yanked the ring from her finger. It dropped to the ground and bounced, and Melancholia slammed her heel down on to it. The ring shattered, blackness flowing back into Valkyrie.

“And that,” Melancholia said, “is the main flaw with Necromancy. Destroy the object and you have all that magic, but nothing to focus it with. Look at me. Do you see any reliance on an object for me? No. I am beyond all that. My body is all I need to focus my power.”

“Congratulations,” Valkyrie said. “But you're still going to die.”

“And how do you think that's going to happen? Are you going to try hitting me, like a barbarian? That won't happen again, little girl. I underestimated your savagery, and you spoiled my good mood.”

Valkyrie smiled. “You think I've spoiled your good mood? Then you're
really
going to hate him.”

Melancholia frowned and turned, and saw Lord Vile striding towards her.

Chapter 54
Monster, Murderer

ile fired off sharpened shadows and Melancholia stumbled back, eyes wide in terror. “Help me!” she screamed.

Craven stood with his mouth open, his feet stuck to the floor. Melancholia fell to her knees while Vile pummelled her. “Craven! Help me! Or I'll kill you!”

Craven raised his hands and Valkyrie pushed at the air, flinging him back. He went rolling across the floor and she ran in, aiming a kick at his head. He saw her coming at the last moment, covered up, taking the boot along his arms. He howled in pain and lashed out, a shard of darkness sliding uselessly across her jacket. Flame flared in her hand and she flicked it on to him. He shrieked as his robes caught fire. He tore the robes off and hurled them away, turning to face her wearing faded thermal long johns, his amulet bouncing on his chest.

“I never liked you,” he sneered. “And now finally I get to—”

She flicked her hand and his amulet flew from around his neck. He cried out and reached up for it as she stepped in and rammed her elbow into his chin. His head rocked back and he was unconscious even as he was falling.

Valkyrie let the amulet drop and looked back as Vile stumbled. The shadows coiled and lashed around Melancholia's feet. She wiped the blood from her face.

“I'm not scared of you,” Melancholia said. “You're only his armour, after all. You're not the
real
Lord Vile. I
killed
the real Lord Vile.”

Vile sprang, but a wave caught him, sent him spinning into the wall. That little victory boosted Melancholia's confidence.

“I'm curious as to how you're still functioning without the skeleton, though,” Melancholia said. “I thought he was controlling you with his mind or something. No? That's not it? You're a little more independent than that?”

Vile flung his shadows at her but she batted them down.

“Oh well,” she continued, actually starting to smile now. “I suppose we'll never know. You will remain a mystery.”

Shadows detached themselves from the cavern ceiling and fell like javelins. Vile didn't even see them coming. The first missed, but the second one caught him in his shoulder and kept going through his armour, impaling him to the floor. The third caught the calf of his leg. He stood there, trying to move away, trying to free himself, but the shadows were solid.

Instead of gloating, as Valkyrie fully expected her to do, Melancholia doubled over, like she was trying to catch her breath. The shadows flexed suddenly and she grimaced.

Valkyrie narrowed her eyes. “You feeling OK, Mel? You don't look too good. Do you want to lie down?”

“Stop,” Melancholia hissed, “talking.”

Darkness sprang from Melancholia and Valkyrie flinched, but it retracted before it hit her – retracted so violently that Melancholia stumbled.

“It's all a bit much, isn't it?” Valkyrie said. “All those powerful sorcerers you killed, their energy speeding around inside you. I bet you can feel Skulduggery, can't you? I bet you can feel him whirling around in there.”

“He's gone,” Melancholia said. “They're all gone.”

“I think you're lying. You can feel him, can't you? Buzzing in your ear? He wants to be let out.”

Darkness rammed into Valkyrie and she went backwards, barely avoiding the slashes that followed, and then the shadows snapped back to Melancholia. The Death Bringer's hands went to her head.

“Let him out,” Valkyrie said.

“You don't know what you're talking about.”

“Sure I do. You have his energy inside you. It's hurting you. So let it out.”

Despite her obvious pain, Melancholia laughed. “What do you expect will happen if I do that? You expect the skeleton to sit up?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

Melancholia straightened, her jaw clenching. She swayed for a moment. “And what,” she said tightly, “is to stop that energy from just floating away?”

“I haven't a clue,” Valkyrie told her. “This is Skulduggery's idea, not mine. Once you release the energy, it all flows back to its source. He should know, right? He was Death Bringer before you, after all.”

She shook her head. “You're not getting him back.”

“Sure I am.”

“You're not!
” Melancholia screeched, and the shadows went wild, thrashing so hard they cracked the rocks around them.

Valkyrie smiled. “He's about to break free.”

“Don't be stupid.”

“You lose control one more time and he's gone.”

“Don't be…”

“Skulduggery,” she called. “Be right with you.”

Melancholia charged forward and Valkyrie stepped back, allowing her eyes to widen, allowing fear to show. She stumbled over Skulduggery's leg, falling to the ground and Melancholia swept her arms wide, gathering shadows, and then the shadows swooped down and Valkyrie used the air to shoot sideways. The shadows hit Skulduggery's ribcage and Melancholia shrieked, ripped them away and fell back. The darkness contorted around her as she staggered.

And Skulduggery's body sat up.

Valkyrie ran over, grabbed his skull and his jawbone, tried to fix them back together. “How do I do this? How does it work?” The skull didn't answer. “Here, you do it.”

She held it out, then realised his arms weren't attached. Cursing, she dropped to her knees, found his right humerus bone through his shirt and lifted it until it clicked into his shoulder. Working quickly, she attached the rest of his arm, then carefully added his gloved hand to the wrist. Two fingers and his thumb suddenly flexed. The other two fingers hung crooked. She picked up his skull and he guided her hands to the top of his spine. It cracked as it attached.

“Ow,” Skulduggery moaned. “How on earth did you do that?”

“I just got her thinking about you,” Valkyrie said, helping him attach his other arm. “Put the idea in her head that you were waiting to pop out. I figured she's that unstable, all she has to do is think something will happen, and it'll happen. Then I got her to touch you. Easy, really.”

“You are magnificent,” he said.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I know.”

“I'm astonished that worked.”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “I know. Do you need help with your legs?”

He suddenly shoved her to one side and rolled to the other as a great blade of darkness sliced through the space between them. She saw Craven, his face a frozen mask of desperation, about to send another blade towards them. Skulduggery propped himself up into a sitting position, his gun in his hand. His forefinger was bent backwards so he pulled the trigger with his middle finger.

The shot rang out and Craven flipped backwards, a bullet between the eyes.

Skulduggery swivelled, emptied his gun at Melancholia, but the shadows looked like they were obeying her again. They caught the bullets and she stood there, twenty paces away, seething with anger. “You tricked me.”

“That's what the smart do to the stupid,” Valkyrie said, getting up while Skulduggery dropped the gun and worked at reattaching his legs.

“So now what are you going to do? Team up? I'm going to kill you from here the
moment
you do something to annoy me.”

“Well, then,” Valkyrie smirked, “I guess we won't do anything to annoy you, you moron.”

Melancholia immediately raised her arms.

“Wait!” Skulduggery said from the ground. “Now, just wait a moment. Melancholia, Valkyrie is very sorry that she annoyed you.”

“No I'm not.”

Skulduggery got up, swaying a little. “Valkyrie, please, let me handle this. Melancholia, I know you're very confused right now.”

“I'm not confused at all,” Melancholia answered.

He clicked his bent fingers back into place, hissing slightly with each one. “Are you sure? Not even the slightest bit? You still want to kill everyone?”

“More than ever. And I want to thank you, by the way, for the opportunity to kill you in front of Valkyrie for a second time. That's just… delicious.”

“I'm afraid that's not going to happen,” Skulduggery said, and waved a hand. His tuxedo jacket floated over to him. He put it on, and straightened his bow tie. “If I get lost,” he said to Valkyrie, “you need to find a way to stop me.”

She frowned at him, but he was already looking back at Melancholia.

“You think you can beat me?” Melancholia said with a laugh. “I killed you with a
thought
, you ridiculous thing. I killed you, I defeated Lord Vile… what else do you have to throw at me?”

“That wasn't Lord Vile.”

“It certainly looks like him,” Melancholia said, glancing behind her to the spot where Vile had been impaled. Her smile faded. He wasn't there any more.

Skulduggery fixed his cuffs. “As I said, that wasn't Lord Vile.” He raised his head. “
This
is Lord Vile.”

Darkness leaked from Skulduggery's shirt. It wrapped around his body like a bandage, growing thicker, forming armour, covering him from head to foot. Valkyrie stepped back, found herself retreating as fast as she could.

And then Skulduggery was gone, and in his place stood Lord Vile.

Melancholia didn't move for a few seconds, then she shook her head, as if to wake herself up. “You don't scare me,” she said before whipping up the shadows and lashing them at Vile. A wall arose in front of him, absorbed the shadows and then melted away.

Melancholia snarled. The shadows behind her grew and writhed, then swooped in through her back and burst from her chest. The stream of darkness slammed into Vile, drove him backwards a single step. Melancholia started to curse him as more shadows poured through her. At Vile's nod, a sliver of darkness severed the stream and Vile absorbed the rest of it into his armour.

He swept his arm wide, firing a salvo of black arrows, three of which got through Melancholia's shield as she stumbled away.

“Stop!” she shouted, like a child who didn't like how the game was being played.

Vile shadow-walked the space between them, appearing behind her. Instinctively, the darkness around her swelled, keeping him at bay, and Melancholia tried to use this as her chance to escape. But Vile sent his shadows after her. One shard nicked the back of her leg and she cried out, and the next slashed across her forearm. Blood sprayed and she shrieked, clutched her arm to her and fell to the ground. She curled up, moaning and sobbing and howling in pain while the shadows around her went nuts. Vile strolled up, stood over her. So absorbed was she in her own distress that she didn't even notice him.

Valkyrie ran forward. “Skulduggery! Don't do it!”

Vile ignored her, reached down to take hold of Melancholia's head. A shadow rippled across her skin, exploding in a dark burst above her that sent Vile flying. Melancholia started crawling away, and Valkyrie grabbed her, hauled her to her feet.

“I'll kill you,” Melancholia snarled.

“I'm helping you, you moron. Run!”