Inferno of Darkness (Order of the Blade #8) (18 page)

Elisha knelt in front of him, clasping his face with her hands. "Dante, look at me."

"Elisha," he croaked, searching her face. He saw the haunted depths in her eyes, the love shimmering on her face, and he knew the truth. He was not the man he needed to be to make this right. He had to spare them all the burden of who he was. "Use the dagger," he gasped. "Use it on me now. I won't let myself destroy you."

Tears filled her eyes. "You would die rather than save the world?"

"I won't be my father," he gritted out. "Innocents won't be sacrificed." With his free hand, he slid his fingers through her hair, pulling her so his forehead was against hers. "One life is never less worthy than the other. I can't sacrifice you—"

"If you choose for me to live," she said, her body shaking, "then you have made the choice of sacrificing millions of innocents to save one. Either way, you have to sacrifice someone."

"No!" Anguish tore through him, and he gripped her more tightly. "You can't die!"

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "If I use the dagger on your successor, it will eventually kill me. I will no longer be here to protect the sword. I die either way, Dante, but if you fight for this, if you destroy the sword now, then it can end. Then my death is not in vain."

"Fuck!" Denial raged through him, anger and outrage that his father had won, that his father would still have a son who would take an innocent life for a greater purpose. "I can't do this—"

"You are not him," she whispered, holding his face, her violet-blue eyes searching his. "He killed for his own pleasure. For his own power. He sacrificed innocents, but not for a noble purpose or the true greater good.
You are not him,
Dante." She placed her hand over his heart. "You are good and pure, and your choice is beautiful. You must do it, and you know it, but it will never,
ever
, make you your father."

Dante locked his hand behind her head and dragged her to him, slamming his mouth over hers. He needed to kiss her, to hold her, to lose himself in her one last time. She was right. He knew she was. Sacrifice millions just to save one woman would be the selfish choice his father would have made. But to let her die... His throat tightened and he pulled back. "I love you," he said hoarsely. "I love you, Elisha. With all that is left of my soul, whatever that is."

She smiled. "I know you do, Dante."

"We must go," Rohan interrupted, his voice tense with urgency. "It is time."

Dante looked up at the warrior who had helped him survive so much. "What about our child? What will happen to him if Elisha dies now? If I die? Does his spirit have enough of a grip in this realm to survive without us?"

"No. Not by himself."

Jesus. His child would die, too? A new wave of grief seemed to consume him. He looked at Elisha, and tears were streaming down her face, tears blackened with the soot that was drifting down from the mountaintop. She swallowed, then spoke, her voice trembling. "I'm not carrying him in my body," she said. "If he needs us, then it's only on a spiritual level. Since he came from both of us, either one of us surviving will be enough. He doesn't need me. Just you." She held his face, her hands shaking. "You must survive, Dante. You're the only one who has a chance!"

Dante shook his head, memories of his own mother dying flashing through his mind. "He will not grow up without a mother—"

"I have to die," she interrupted. "You don't!"

"What about my foot? Aren't I dying, too?"

They both looked down, and he saw that the curse had been working its way up his leg. His calf was twisted and mangled, and his knee was turning black. "I'm dying, too, Elisha."

She gripped his arm in sheer terror. "One of us must find a way," she whispered urgently, her voice thick with tears. "One of us must! For him!"

He had a sudden vision of Elisha dying, of their son fading into nothing before he was even born, and anguish ripped through him. Dante wrapped his arm around her and crushed her against him, fighting against the sudden pain in his chest. Pain so intense that it felt like a thousand knives were carving his heart out of his body. This was what his father had warned against. This kind of pain. This kind of emotion. It made a man weak. Vulnerable. It would force him to make the wrong choices, choices based on his heart instead of his mind. He needed to be the steely warrior, to hide the pain, to focus, to clear his mind so he could see his path. He fought it back, struggled to contain it, but it wouldn't leave. He couldn't get the pain out of his chest. He couldn't rid his mind of the visions of Elisha and his son dying—

There was a sudden scream, and Elisha was ripped from his arms. He opened his eyes to see her being dragged backward toward the mountain, her fingers cleaving claw marks into the parched earth. She screamed his name, her eyes wide with fear as she was torn away from him.

"Elisha!" He lunged to his feet and raced after her, but the faster he went, the faster she seemed to go, staying just out of his reach. "Elisha!" he bellowed.

"The call of the queen's darkness is too strong," Rohan said as he caught up, running hard beside Dante. "It's summoning the sword, but since Elisha is from the same realm, it's taking her as well. It's calling back everything from that realm."

"Well, fuck that!" Summoning all his strength, Dante lunged for her and caught her wrist. The moment his fingers closed around hers, he was dragged off his feet, tumbling over the rocky terrain as the sword dragged them both up the mountain toward the raging fire.

Elisha's fingers wrapped around his, and she met his gaze as he righted himself, fighting for footing. His bare feet sliced over the rocks, and he swore as his cursed foot smashed into a sharp boulder. Ahead of them, the towering wall of fire got closer and closer, until the air was so hot that his flesh burned. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that Zach and Rohan were far behind, unable to keep pace with the pull of the darkness dragging them forward. "Zach!" he bellowed. "Get your ass up here!"

Elisha's feet touched the fire, and she screamed in pain.

There was a roar of outrage behind them, and suddenly a massive black and orange fireball tore past them and exploded around them. The flames of darkness shrieked in outrage and drew back, opening a path for them. Another human-sized fireball rolled past them and then exploded just in front of them, disgorging Rohan and Zach into the fiery inferno.

Zach spun around and thrust his palms into the air. "This is for my family," he bellowed, his voice reverberating through the raging din. Fire exploded from him, springing up in violent rages all around them until the four of them were encased in a raging bubble of safety, as Zach's flames built a protective wall between them and the assault from the queen's darkness. The pull of the mountain suddenly ceased, unable to penetrate the wall of fire that Zach had built around them.

"Shit," Rohan stared at him. "I didn't think you could do it. That's impressive as hell."

Flames were dancing in Zach's eyes. "For my family," he repeated. "No one else dies." His words were thick with anguish and grief, twisted by the deaths of those he loved. The agonizing emotions were giving him power beyond what he should have been able to do.

Zach was not a cold, reserved, stoic warrior like Dante's father had recruited for the Order. He was damaged, exhausted, grieving, and full of hate for those who had stolen what mattered to him...and that had made him powerful enough to hold off the queen's darkness.

Had Dante's father been wrong? Were the warriors the Order needed actually the fucked-up, damaged men who had suffered so much loss that they bled their suffering into their every move? Was that what it took to resist the allure of power and be immune to corruption? Was the secret to be driven by a past so terrible that nothing else mattered but surviving and fixing that nightmare?

Dante looked at Elisha, who had fallen to her knees, gasping for air. Her face was covered in soot, her hair singed on the ends, and her fingers still clenched around the hilt of her dagger. Fierce protectiveness surged through him. Was she his answer? Was she what would give him strength, like Zach's family had done for him? Was he supposed to feel the grief of losing her and let it consume him? Or was his father right? Did he need to stay logical and focused in battle? Which was it?
Which was it?

The flames around them rose higher, and Dante felt the mountain begin to call him again, a fierce, pulsating summons.

"I can't hold it much longer," Zach shouted. "We gotta keep moving!"

Elisha was dragged a few yards across the ground, her fingers gripping the dirt as the queen's darkness began to call her again. She looked up at him. "Find a way to live," she said. "You must!"

"Elisha!" Dante lunged for her, but his fingers closed on empty air as she was ripped off the ground and yanked through the wall of flames, disappearing from sight.

There was no longer a choice to be made. There were no longer multiple options. There was no longer the opportunity for a clear, concise strategy. The moment Dante saw Elisha sucked into the vortex of darkness, his entire soul screamed for her, and all that mattered was getting her back.

"Elisha!" he bellowed as he lurched to his feet. "Take me, you bastard," he shouted to the sword. "Take me!" And with that, he dropped all his resistance to the weapon. The moment he stopped fighting it, its power swarmed through him, like a violent poison slicing away at his very soul. His will seemed to be sucked out of him, replaced by a compulsion to accede to the call of the sword.

Dark purpose swarmed him. The veil.
The veil.
He had to open it.
Now!

"Hold on to me!" He commanded Rohan and Zach as he was ripped off his feet by the sword. It sped toward the peak of the mountain, dragging him ruthlessly toward where Elisha had vanished. Elisha.
Elisha.
He focused all his attention on the image of her eyes, on her scent, on the sensation of her body against his, using her as an anchor to keep his sanity from being consumed by the sword. As he did, he became gradually aware of Rohan and Zach gripping his arm, being dragged along with him. Zach continued to spew flames, clearing a path so they weren't all incinerated by the fire.

"Elisha!" he yelled over the flames at Zach. "Help her!"

In response, Zach hurled another massive fireball ahead of them. It exploded somewhere in the distance, and Dante could only hope that it had given her respite. Again and again, Zach threw fireballs. At the same time, he kept their shield burning around them. Despite his efforts, it was still getting hotter and hotter, and the flames seemed to be closing in on them, mingling with Zach's protections.

The sword was burning his palm, vibrating so violently it felt as if his arm was going to be torn from his side. "We're getting close," he yelled.

And then he saw it. Up ahead was a shimmering, iridescent, almost translucent sphere. Sprawled across the surface of it was Elisha. She was alive and unburned! Relief rushed through him for a split second, until he realized her body was shaking violently as the queen's darkness tried to drag her through the veil, but couldn't. "Elisha!" There was another burst of energy from the sword, and then it was dragging him straight down toward her, the point of it directed right at the veil she was lying on, ready to slice it open.

Swearing, he tried to divert it so he wouldn't pierce the veil, but the sword was too strong. He couldn't fight it. "Rohan, get ready!"

"I'm on it!" Rohan shouted back.

He suddenly noticed the point of the sword was heading directly for Elisha. He realized the call was at its strongest at that place, pulling both the sword and Elisha to the same spot. "Elisha!" he bellowed. "Move!" He wrenched violently at the sword with both hands, but he couldn't redirect it. He had no control. None! He was getting closer and closer, heading directly toward her heart. "Elisha! Wake up!"

Her eyes fluttered open, and her blue-violet gaze swiveled weakly toward him. She didn't look at the sword. She just looked at him.

He realized she was too weak to speak, let alone move.

Jesus. He was going to kill her. The sword was going to go right through her in order to get to the veil! "Elisha!" Outrage and terror spewed through him, along with a fear so deep it seemed to cleave his soul in half. Almost in slow motion, he watched the tip of the sword plunge toward her. He heard Zach's howl of outrage. He felt Rohan reaching past him, ready to grip the veil and hold it together. He heard his own bellow of denial. But all he could see was the face of the woman he loved, the mother of his son, the woman so brave she was willing to die for the cause she believed in.

Weakly, she lifted her hand, reaching toward him, as if she were silently imploring him for... mercy? Love? Strength? Was he that weak that he couldn't save her? Was he the pathetic underachiever his father had tried to murder in disgust?
No.
"No!" With a roar of fury, Dante ripped his hand free of the hilt, grabbed the sword with both hands, and dragged himself along the length of the blade, closer and closer to the tip, even as it streaked toward Elisha, until it was almost there—

He threw himself in front of the tip of the blade, knocking her body out of the way just as the sword struck. It went right though his chest and into the veil. The pain was so violent, so extreme that his mouth opened in wordless, silent agony, his very breath sucked from him. His body spasmed and then went rigid, cursed by the blackness of all that the sword contained.

There was an earsplitting shriek as the veil ripped apart. Elisha tumbled through the opening and Dante fell after her. As they fell, he managed to look up just as blue electricity crackled across the veil, weaving it back together. It bucked and surged against Rohan's defense, and Dante knew it wouldn't hold for long.

They tumbled through the air, buffeted by black mist and thousands of screaming beasts, all of them straining at the veil, slashing at it, trying to break free. All the nightmares that would be unleashed into the world if he did not destroy the sword.