Fire And Steel (The Merryweather Chronicles Book 2) (20 page)

      Dimly, in the dark recesses of his consciousness, Brandon realized that the Usurper was leading him away from the tower. Away from his only way home. Brandon spun away from the Usurper's laughter and tried to find the tower. But all he could find was grohlm. Surrounding him in every direction. The sky above was black and empty. No moon. No stars.

      Ignoring the mocking laughter of the Usurper, Brandon began to make his way back the way he'd come, using the bits and pieces of those he'd killed as a guide. His own gruesome trail of bread crumbs. Behind him, the Usurper's laughter stopped and a ripple rolled through the grohlm surrounding him.

      Following the river of bloody mud and severed limbs, killing grohlm as fast as he could, Brandon felt the tingle of magic growing in the air. It lifted the airs on his arms and on the back of his neck, making him think of home. Of Highgarden. He was getting close to where the tower had stood, where he and the bull had fallen, when the sky lit up around him. There was a screech from above and a massive ball of flame exploded into the grohlm to his right, engulfing them and sending up panicked howls of terror. Another appeared overhead, twisting and tumbling through the air, followed closely by two more, each bigger than the last. Screaming as they flew on their destructive path, the trio of fireballs speared down out of the night, flashing towards him.

      Brandon flung himself sideways, snagging a snarling grohlm by the thick tuft of hair growing from the back of its neck and using its momentum to drag himself out of the fireball's paths. Two of them missed, slamming into grohlm on either side of Brandon, blasting them into bloody chunks of smoldering meat. The third hit Brandon in the chest, exploding in his face and engulfing him in flames.

      The force of the explosion sent Brandon tumbling through the air. He came down hard on top of the grohlm, his swords flying from his fingertips, and felt a dozen swords strike him at once. The explosion should have killed him. Should have blown him apart where he stood, despite the strength of his armor. But, instead, the armor was cracked and warped, smoldering where the flames had tasted it, but otherwise whole.

      Letting the god inside his head devour his fear and shock, Brandon rolled to his feet and threw his arm up, blocking a sword thrust from a grohlm with the tusks of a boar and hideously human like features. The grohlm growled a very human sounding curse and swung again, aiming for Brandon’s head this time. He didn’t seem to be taking Kardas’ order to keep Brandon alive very seriously.

      Brandon caught the thrusting sword in a gauntleted fist and smashed his fist into the boar’s chest, crushing its sternum, and sent it crashing into the mass of charred and writhing grohlm still caught in the firestorm. He could feel the grohlm, slashing and stabbing as they threw everything they had at him, but nothing they did could touch him. The swords and spears, maces and axes, didn’t do any damage, not even when they slipped through gaps in his damaged armor. They couldn't pierce his flesh.

      Brandon surged to his feet, tossing a pair of grohlm into the air. Two more fireballs bloomed in the night sky above, streaking down at Brandon’s position.  Throwing a fist into the snout of a mule grohlm, shattering the thing's face, Brandon ran toward the fireballs, hoping to force them to overshoot him. The other grohlm screamed for his blood as he leapt under the flames and the fireballs exploded the rank of monsters immediately behind him. The strength of the blast buffeted him in the back, searing his armor with heat. He twisted sideways, snatching a rusty blade from the cloven fist of a boar, and stabbed it in the throat. Blood showered down onto Brandon's shoulders as he leapt up, his left foot coming down on the back of a bear grohlm's neck, and kicked himself further into the air. Flipping over the outstretched arms of snarling grohlm, Brandon slashed the throats of 3 more beasties before landing.

      The grohlm momentarily fell back. The ground was a muddy soup of blood and guts, slippery underfoot. Brandon stopped long enough to get his bearings before launching himself toward where the tower had stood. The grohlm stood their ground, though most were bleating and making terrified noises even as they attacked. Brandon met them head on, launching himself onto the back of a massive bear, stabbing it in the neck as he kicked off its shoulders and leapt past another fireball as it formed in the air above and lanced down at him.

      Visible for just a moment, hanging in the air where the fireballs appeared, were three distinct forms. Winged creatures, unlike any sort of grohlm that Brandon had faced before. They moved in slow circles above the battlefield, guarding the closed doorway hanging in the sky.

      Even as the first fireball screeched past, howling like a missile, two more flared to life. Brandon threw himself forward, leaping into the air to try and dodge them again. His arm was searing cold where Rok pressed hard into his skin, the old god silently strengthening and protecting him. One of the fireballs hit him in the back, exploding and sending him crashing back to the ground. The armor took most of the impact while Rok did the rest, but his cloak was alive with flame.

      Rolling to his feet, Brandon tossed aside the ruined cloak and ran. Behind him, the remaining fireball exploded amid the screaming grohlm, lighting the night up bright enough for Brandon to see the three flyers. None of them were close enough for him to grab, so he threw the sword, instead. It pierced one of them through the chest. It screamed, an eerily female sound, and fell from the sky.

      Brandon followed it down, landing lightly beside it. The thing stopped screaming and wasn't moving. Brandon grabbed the hilt of the sword and yanked it free. In so doing, its robe fell open. Brandon recoiled and felt his blood go cold.

      It was a girl.

      With pale white skin and long blonde hair, the girl looked younger than Brandon, maybe 13 or 14. She was naked under the robe, her pink nipples standing up in the cold air, and beautiful. The sword had pierced her through her stomach. Blood, black and sticky, was pooled in the slight concave of her tiny little belly. The wound was an ugly tear, marring the girl's dark perfection.

      Brandon felt a moment of icy terror, at the thought of having killed a human girl, then her eyes opened. Lightning blue, exploding with hate and magic, they were the eyes of a monster. With a howl, the girl-thing began thrashing on the ground. Her cloak fell away further, revealing a pair of feathered wings. Black feathers, long and glossy looking. Brandon didn't need to see more. Swinging the sword fast and hard, Brandon cut the girl's head off, sending it tumbling among the grohlm.

      Two more fireballs lanced down from the sky, exploding close to where the blue eyed witch lay. Brandon dove into the press of grohlm, the flames covering everything like liquid fire. Like a wave of napalm. The heat was intense, but not painful.

      The other two witches screamed as they flew by overhead. Perhaps for the loss of their sister? Maybe just for the fun of it? Brandon didn't care which. Rolling to his feet amid a flaming circle of grohlm, Brandon snatched a curved battle-axe from the ground and turned, scanning the sky.

      He didn't have to wait long. Coinciding with another scream from up above, a fireball flared to life and launched itself at him. Ignoring the living flame headed his way, Brandon hurled the axe over handed, sending it spinning into the night. He thought he missed, until one of the screaming witches suddenly went silent and one of the fireballs sputtered out before it reached the ground. The other hit him in the chest, knocking him backwards, sending him tumbling ass over elbows. Bouncing him off of a wall of armored flesh. He hit the ground rolling, coming up to find himself facing the Usurper.

      Kardas stared at Brandon, his mouth a grim line beneath his helmet's gaping maw. The Usurper's head moved slowly, taking in the damage to Brandon’s armor. The visor had a crack in it, making a white line across Brandon’s vision. He looked up and met Brandon's gaze. He said. "It’s time to stop fighting, Brandon. You have a destiny. And it’s time to seize it."

      Brandon said nothing. Around them, the grohlm had fallen back, creating a living breathing circle of steel around the two warriors. Kardas unfastened his cloak, letting it fall to the ground as he took two long steps forward. His hands rested at his sides, making no move toward the sword sheathed at his hip. Firelight reflected off of his golden armor. “Surely, you know that you can’t possibly win? You’re finished.”

      "I'm just getting started." Brandon said, launching himself across the short space between them. The speed of the attack obviously surprised the other, forcing the big man back a step before Brandon’s fist slammed into his armored chest plate. He hit the man as hard as he could, making a fist shaped dent in the heavy steel and knocking the Usurper back another step. Spinning on his heel, Brandon lashed out with a boot, catching the big man in the side of his helmet. The helmet twisted sideways, obscuring the man's view through the narrow eye slits.

      Kardas threw up an arm to deflect another strike at his head and fell back, stumbling a bit over the cloak still lying on the ground behind him. Kicking the cloak to the side, the Usurper shook his head to straighten his helmet. He drew his sword, the steel ringing as the blade cleared the scabbard, and came forward, swinging.

      Brandon moved to meet him head on, noticing the runes decorating the blade. He recognized the sword as the one that he had used in the tower dream. The runes weren't glowing though, not while the Usurper held the sword. They were black against the length of steel.

      Sliding sideways, Brandon kept some distance between himself and the Usurper, watching the rune blade closely. The man's white teeth stood out inside the screaming mouth of the helmet as he smiled. He said. "You really do impress me, Brandon. Your grandfather was nowhere near as strong, even with the help of his bitch god. But this fight is over." 

      The other two flyers dropped from the sky, landing on either side of the Usurper. Their robes fell open, revealing twin nubile bodies and angelic faces. One had hair the color of strawberries, dark red. Like freshly spilled blood. The other's hair was black as coal. They could have been twins to the dead blonde. Their eyes were the same electric shade of blue. Flanking the Usurper, the witches watched Brandon with a cold hunger in their eyes. Beneath their robes, their black wings twitched and their lips twisted into evil smiles. One had a bleeding gash across her perfect breasts, from the axe that Brandon had thrown.

      Brandon faced the Usurper and his witches, letting Rok take away all of his fear and panic. His arm was ice from his wrist to his shoulder, as if dipped in liquid nitrogen. Brandon rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck to pop it, then bent to pick up a bloodied broadsword. The blade was warped and pitted with rust, but still had a cutting edge. Brandon locked eyes with Kardas and said. "You say I have a destiny? That there is some secret truth that only you can tell me about me and my family? The family that you killed?"

      "Are you ready to learn the truth, Brandon?" Kardas said with a soft laugh. The witches laughed with him, their voices high and clear, like the ringing of hell's bells. It was a sound to make infants scream and men's ears bleed. The Usurper slowly shook his head. "I’m not so sure."

      Brandon wanted to rage, to scream at the man before him. He wanted to let out all of the pent up frustration and pain that had been a constant companion since the night his parents died. But all of that anger was gone. The emptiness inside his mind was perfect except for the blazing presence of the god protecting and strengthening him. All of his uncertainty was gone. He looked at the man responsible for his parent’s deaths, for all of the death and destruction that had followed him to Matheson and put countless innocent people at risk, and all he could do was shake his head. He said. “Is this all because you think I’m the Reclaimer? All of this death and destruction for some kind of half assed prophecy?” He pointed the tip of the broadsword in the man's direction. He said. “I’m going to kill you.”

      The time for talking was past. And both men knew it.

      Brandon exploded into motion, hurling himself at Kardas. The other man met the attack, bringing up his blade to deflect Brandon’s, but didn’t count on the younger warrior’s enhanced strength. He fell back under the onslaught, stumbling as Brandon landed a backhand blow that snapped his rusty sword in half and gauged a deep cut into his dented breastplate. 

      The two witches didn’t just stand there and watch their master fail. Hissing, they came at Brandon, flickering flames taking form over their outstretched palms. He hurled the foot long length of broken steel at the face of the black haired one, smashing her face and sending the fireball meant for him straight into her sister. The red witch was instantly engulfed, the flames devouring her in seconds. Screeching, she tried to take to the sky, her black wings in flames as they beat at the air.

      Brandon didn’t bother watching the witch burn. Keeping the pressure on Kardas, he kicked one of the big man’s knees out from under him, sending him crashing to ground, and aimed a kick at his head. Kardas rolled in time to catch the kick with his shoulder, instead of his face, and lashed out with the broadsword, landing a blow to Brandon’s head. It shattered the visor of his helmet and peppered his face with plexiglass. He was still blinking glass out of his eyes when Kardas hit him in chest with a tremendous backhand, sending him flying. He hit the ground, tumbling and sliding to a halt amid the grohlm. The monsters slashed and stabbed at him as he rolled over and slowly climbed to his feet. He ignored the ineffectual blows raining down on him and faced his enemy.