Soul of Swords (Book 7) (43 page)

Ragnachar, once a hrould of the Tervingi nation and a son of the Old Demon.

“Damn it,” whispered Molly, and her brother and her uncle attacked her.

###

Skalatan sent blast after blast of dragon fire across the Chamber, consuming the warring Demonsouled and hammering down the Guardian’s defenses. 

It would not be long now. The Guardian’s wards were starting to buckle. Sooner or later exhaustion would claim the Guardian, and then Skalatan would have victory.

Then he could unleash his full strength against the Old Demon. 

A blast of fire shattered against a wall of ice, and Skalatan summoned more power.

###

Ragnachar and Corvad closed on her, and Molly drew on her full strength and tried to jump into the shadows.

Nothing happened. She felt the Glamdaigyr’s peculiar barrier, the power that kept her from using the shadows to travel instantaneously. 

But she was stronger in Cythraul Urdvul, her power enhanced by the gathered might of the Demonsouled, and the strange barrier felt thinner than she remembered.

Corvad and Ragnachar drew back their weapons for the kill.

Molly’s strength smashed through the barrier.

Shadows swallowed her, and she reappeared at Riothamus’s side, the floor smoking beneath her boots. Riothamus looked drawn and strained, the sigils upon his staff radiant with golden light. 

“You’re alive,” he said, relief in his voice.

“Corvad couldn’t kill me in life, and he’s bloody not going to do it when he’s dead,” said Molly. “The fire. It’s coming from Skalatan.” 

“I know,” said Riothamus. “He has Corvad’s skull with him, and he used it to enter Cythraul Urdvul without Demonsouled blood.”

“So if we break the skull…”

Riothamus nodded. “Then we have one less foe to…look out!”

Another river of flame roared across the floor, and Riothamus thrust the staff. Again a wall of white mist hardened into a sheet of ice, and the dragon fire slammed into it. The ice and flames dissolved into steam, but a wall of hot air slammed into them, driving them back several steps. 

Riothamus wiped sweat from his forehead, panting. “I can’t keep blocking those. If we don’t find him, he’ll wear me down.” 

“I can’t see him,” said Molly.

“But I can,” said Riothamus, and she saw that he had a plan. 

###

Mazael spun, and just managed to get Lion up to block the Glamdaigyr’s swing.

The force drove him back, and he stumbled, trying to keep his balance. 

“Too slow,” hissed the Old Demon, the Glamdaigyr weaving back and forth before him. “Too weak. You should have let me kill you when you had the chance, Mazael. It will be far less painful that what is to come.” 

“If you’re going to kill me,” said Mazael, his eyes sweeping the chaos for any sign of Romaria, “then stop talking and kill me already.”

The Old Demon grinned. “Easily done.”

The Glamdaigyr hammered against Lion, forcing Mazael back.

###

Skalatan called more power through the drachweisyr.

It had proven so easy in the end. He felt the Guardian’s power ebbing, and the human wizard’s walls of ice were no longer so tall and thick. Soon he would not have the strength to drive back the drachweisyr’s attacks, and Skalatan would burn him to ashes.

And then he would destroy the Old Demon at last.

He felt the Guardian start another spell, but one far weaker than his previous efforts. It certainly would not be strong enough to deflect another blast of dragon fire.

Skalatan pointed the drachweisyr.

###

“Ready,” said Molly, her hands tight around the hilts of her weapons.

If she failed, both she and Riothamus were going to die.

At least it would be quick.

Riothamus gestured as he cast a spell, sweeping his staff before him, and the air rippled. 

And another spot of air rippled on the far wall of the Chamber of Blood as Riothamus dispelled Skalatan’s cloaking spell. Through the mayhem of the battle Molly saw a tall, thin figure draped in ragged gray robes, a scepter of bone clutched in a skeletal right hand.

Skalatan.

The serpent priest’s carrier held a skull in its left hand.

Skalatan leveled the scepter at them, its length glowing like a coal in the fire. 

“Go!” said Riothamus.

Molly flung herself into the shadows, using all her Demonsouled strength to punch through the Glamdaigyr’s barrier. Darkness swallowed her, and she reappeared against the Chamber’s curved wall.

Skalatan stood three paces away, dragon fire shimmering down the length of the peculiar scepter. He whirled at her approach and pointed the scepter at her, the dragon fire brightening. He did not speak, did not gloat or boast as the Old Demon or Corvad would have done.

He was simply going to blast her to smoking embers.

Molly had no time to move, no time to attack, not even enough time to fall back into the shadows. 

So she threw the dragon’s tooth dagger.

The blade smashed into the skull. The tooth shattered the skull’s dome, broken pieces of bone falling to the black floor. The crimson sigils upon the damaged skull went dark.

Skalatan looked at her, at the broken skull, and then back at her.

“I did not,” he said, “foresee that.” 

The air around him twisted and writhed with silver light, and Skalatan vanished, flung back into the physical world. 

Molly grinned and walked the shadows back to Riothamus’s side. Together they could join the fight against the Old Demon with Mazael.

She appeared at Riothamus’s side just as Ragnachar and Corvad rushed them.

###

Romaria swam back to consciousness. 

She lay on her side upon a cold floor of black stone, still in the form of a wolf. As her eyes swam back into focus, she saw the Demonsouled struggling around her, and she smelled blood and sweat and fury and the corruption of their tainted blood.

She surged to her feet, claws tapping against the smooth stone, and saw Morebeth locked in battle with Amalric Galbraith a few feet away, their swords weaving together to form a net of crimson fire. 

Romaria raced through the press, trying to find Mazael.

She saw him standing on the stairs of the dais, at the very edge of the great pillar of bloody fire. He was on the defensive, falling back as the Old Demon swung and hacked, moving so fast that even Romaria’s keen eyes could barely follow the motions. Mazael was alone, and unless he received aid, the Old Demon was going to kill him.

But there were too many battling Demonsouled between her and Mazael.

Romaria blurred back into human form, raised her bow, and loosed an arrow. It slammed into the Old Demon’s back with enough force to rock him, and Mazael lunged, Lion drawing a line of blue flame. 

But the Old Demon gestured, and a blast of invisible force knocked Mazael back. Romaria drew another arrow, but the Old Demon was quicker. He whirled, grinning as he faced her, and flung out his free hand.

Invisible force erupted from his fingers, a tremendous blast that ripped through the Chamber of Blood, flinging hundreds of Demonsouled into the air. The blast caught Romaria and knocked her to the floor, the writhing black sky spinning before her eyes. She shoved aside the pain and weariness and staggered back to her feet.

She saw Mazael and the Old Demon continue their duel, outlined against the column of flame. The Old Demon pushed him back and back, and Mazael stumbled at last.

Then the Old Demon drove the Glamdaigyr through Mazael’s chest, the point of the blade erupting from his back. 

Chapter 32 - The New God

Agony filled Mazael, icy fingers spreading through him. 

He tried to rip himself from the Glamdaigyr’s freezing blade, but the sword sucked the strength and warmth from his limbs. He tried to raise Lion, the sword snarling with azure flames in his right fist, but he could not raise his arm. All around him he heard the chaos of the fight, screams and shouts and clangs, but it grew distant, so distant.

He thought he heard Romaria screaming.

The Old Demon’s crimson eyes filled the world.

“You failed, Mazael,” he said, grinning his fang-filled grin. “This was your fate. This was always your fate. To fail, so close to the end. To die knowing that the world will be mine to use as I please. That everyone you ever loved is mine to torment as I wish.” He leaned closer, his eyes burning. “Think on that as you die.” 

The Old Demon twisted the hilt of the Glamdaigyr. 

And darkness took Mazael Cravenlock.

###

The Old Demon stared at the corpse of his son, Mazael’s strength and power flowing into him through the Glamdaigyr. 

For a moment, just a moment, he had known a hint of fear. When both Lion and the Guardian’s staff had come to confront him at his moment of triumph, a bit of doubt had touched him. Could they truly defeat him?

Now his fear seemed ridiculous. They could not defeat him. They never would defeat him. For three thousand years he had made kings and empires dance to his will, and with the assembled power of the Demonsouled, he would mold the world in his image. 

And it was better this way. His foes would witness his ascension…and then their true torment could begin. 

He almost kicked Mazael’s corpse off the blade, and then stopped himself. 

This, too, was better. Let them watch as Mazael’s body burned away in the might of the Demonsouled power. Let them watch and despair.

And it would amuse the Old Demon to look at the corpse of his rebellious son as he became a god.

He strode up the final steps to the dais and thrust the Glamdaigyr’s tip into the pillar of crimson flame.

###

Molly dodged under Corvad’s sword, raising her blades for a block as Riothamus began a spell.

And then Cythraul Urdvul shuddered around them like a massive bell. 

Silence fell over the Chamber of Blood as the warring Demonsouled lowered their weapons and looked at the pillar of flame.

“No,” said Riothamus. “Oh, no.”

Molly saw her grandfather thrust the Glamdaigyr into the flame, her father’s corpse speared upon the sword. Even as she watched, the Glamdaigyr transformed into a shaft of crimson fire, the pillar’s flame flowing down it like water draining through a canal.

Draining into the Old Demon.

His triumphant laughter rang over the Chamber of Blood. 

“Our father ascends,” said Ragnachar. “He shall be the new god. He shall rule the world for all time.”

“And he shall kill and kill,” said Corvad with a laugh.

“No,” said Molly, horrified. “No. We can still…we can still…”

But it was too late. 

Now and forever, it was too late.

Ragnachar and Corvad disappeared in flashes of crimson fire, their flame sucked across the room to join the great pillar. The black clouds overhead ceased writhing and began to swirl around the shaft of crimson flame.

And all of it, all that might, all that limitless power, began to drain into the Old Demon.

Her grandfather swelled, transforming into something huge and monstrous and unconquerably strong. Molly wanted to plunge her blades into his back, to have Riothamus unleash the full strength of his magic. 

But it was too late. She no longer had any weapons that could hurt the Old Demon…and neither did Riothamus.

And her grandfather’s mocking laughter rang in her ears and inside her mind.

###

The battle was almost over.

“Send some men to the gates of Castle Town,” said Gerald, “and let them know the runedead have been driven from the field. And send a messenger to Prince Hugh.” He shot a wary glance north. “If the Aegonar are going make an attempt on Knightcastle, they’ll do…”

The ground shook beneath his horse’s hooves. The poor animal whinnied in fear, and throughout the assembled armies Gerald heard horses scream in terror. A wind picked up, hot and dry, so hot it made Gerald’s eyes sting, reeking of sulfur and rot. 

Dread knotted his stomach, a nameless fear that had no source.

“My lord!” shouted Adalar over the chaos that spread through the horsemen, “my lord, what’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” said Gerald. “Circan?”

But Circan said nothing, his eyes fixed on Knightcastle.

“Circan!” said Gerald…and then the slender column of silver light rising from Knightcastle turned the color of blood.

Gerald watched, horrified. 

The bloody light spread across the sky, turning it red and painting the land with a harsh fiery glow. The ground heaved again, seeming to groan in fear. 

“Circan!” said Gerald. “What is happening? Has Lucan done something?”

“I…I don’t know,” said Circan. “My lord...”

A horror began to form in the sky over Knightcastle, and men screamed.

###

Romaria wanted to run howling at the Old Demon, to ram her sword through his black heart, to take the form of the wolf and rip vengeance for her slain husband from his corpse.

But she could not move, not through the horrified dread that filled her. All around her, the battling Demonsouled winked out of existence, pulled back into the column of power draining into the Glamdaigyr, but she could not take her gaze from the Old Demon.

Her Sight showed two images superimposed over each other. 

One was the man in the black robe, the Glamdaigyr in his hands, Mazael speared upon the blade.

The other was a creature of power and might, a thing beyond mortal comprehension as a man was beyond a grasshopper. And even as she watched it grew stronger and stronger as it gorged itself upon three thousand years’ worth of slain Demonsouled. 

The Old Demon laughed, and Cythraul Urdvul resounded with it, the voice echoing inside her head.

BOW BEFORE ME.

The horrid voice thundered inside her skull, commanding her to kneel, to grovel before this creature that could squash her like an insect. It demanded that she fall to her knees and worship. 

“No,” growled Romaria, gritting her teeth. 

The thunderous laughter redoubled. 

YOU WILL BOW BEFORE ME. 

The dreadful pressure in her head intensified, compelling her to obey, even as the mighty horror that had once been the Old Demon swelled and grew.

And Romaria knew that she could not resist much longer, that soon the dark power would force her to fall to her knees. 

And she would never rise again. 

###

“What the hell?” said Hugh.

The fiery light rose from Knightcastle, spearing the clear blue sky and painting it the color of blood. The ground shook beneath his horse’s hooves, and murmurs of fear rose up from the Aegonar earls. 

“Lucan,” said Hugh. “This is Lucan’s doing.” He looked at Ryntald. “We have to get to Knightcastle, now, stop whatever spell…”

But Ryntald’s face had gone white beneath the close-cropped red beard. 

“I think,” said Ryntald, voice hoarse, “that it is too late.”

A horror formed in the sky over Knightcastle, and Hugh almost fell from the saddle in sudden fear.

He had no words to describe the creature that filled the sky. One moment it looked like a gaunt man in a black robe. The next it looked like a monster, a horror beyond imagination. The instant after that it looked like a sun made of burning blood, filling the world with flame and corruption. 

“Sepharivaim!” shrieked Korvager, his eyes wide with madness. “Sepharivaim comes! You shall pay, heathen!” He laughed at Hugh, spittle flying from his lips. “You shall all pay.”

“That’s not Sepharivaim,” said Hugh, his tongue thick against his teeth.

The creature in the sky laughed, its hideous voice filling his head.

Korvager looked back at the sky and screamed.

###

Mazael Cravenlock awoke from darkness.

Pain exploded through him, fire filling every fiber of his body. He felt the Glamdaigyr sawing against his ribs and heart, felt the power of the Demonsouled pouring through him.

And into the Old Demon.

Or, at least, the thing that had been the Old Demon.

It still looked like his father, the same black robe, hard face, and fire-glazed gray eyes. But he had changed completely. Power as vast as an ocean and as unyielding as the mountains filled him now.

The power of a god.

And still more power rushed through the Glamdaigyr and into the Old Demon.

The Old Demon laughed, his voice ringing inside Mazael’s head.

WHAT IS THIS? STILL ALIVE? NO. ALIVE AGAIN. THE POWER FLOWING THROUGH THE GLAMDAIGYR BROUGHT YOU BACK. APPROPRIATE. THEN YOU CAN DIE AGAIN AND CONTEMPLATE YOUR FAILURE.

Mazael struggled to pull himself free from the black sword, Lion’s tip scraping against the stone. He was so close. Another few feet and he could drive Lion into the Old Demon.

But the Old Demon twisted the Glamdaigyr, fresh agony blazed through Mazael, and again everything went black.

###

Rachel Cravenlock Roland’s children started to scream.

She had taken them for a walk around Castle Cravenlock’s curtain wall, hoping to keep them occupied and hoping to distract herself from her worries. Mazael and Gerald had crushed Caldarus at the Northwater, but there had been no word from the army for days. They must have reached Knightcastle by now, and Rachel found herself unable to sleep.

So she had taken Aldane and Belifane for a walk.

But now the ground heaved beneath the castle. The sky turned the color of blood, and men and women filled the courtyard, armsmen and servants and militia guards. Some stood rooted, staring at the sky, while others fled, screaming.

It would not matter. They could not flee from what was coming.

Rachel felt it in her bones. 

A nightmare filled the western sky, a creature of might and unconquerable power. The mere sight of it sent terror stabbing into Rachel’s brain. 

It was worse than the Great Rising. Lucan had unleashed a new horror. Mazael and Gerald had failed, and her husband and brother were most likely dead. 

The thing’s voice thundered in her head.

BOW BEFORE ME.

“Mother!” screamed Aldane, clutching at her. “Mother, what is happening?”

The world was ending, but she had not the heart to tell him, so she held her children close and waited for the destruction to claim them.

###

Gerald gripped his sword, but it seemed so useless, so puny against the nightmare in the sky.

BOW BEFORE ME! YOU ARE MINE, MORTALS. YOU ARE MINE!

Pain flooded through Gerald’s head with every word.

“What do we do, my lord?” shouted Lord Tancred. 

The creature’s laughter filled his skull, the very hills vibrating with it.

“Nothing,” whispered Gerald. Gods, gods, he wished he could have seen Rachel and the children one last time. “Nothing. We have failed, and the world shall fall into darkness.”

###

Mazael died and woke again and again. The assembled might of the Demonsouled poured through him, healed his mortal wounds over and over even as the Glamdaigyr slew him again and again. 

He cursed himself for his weakness, struggled to move closer to the Old Demon. But he could not. The Glamdaigyr’s black blade held him pinned, leeching away his life and strength as fast as the power of the Demonsouled replenished it. 

Another few feet. All it would take was two steps, and he could strike the Old Demon with Lion.

It might as well have been a thousand miles. 

WITNESS. WATCH AS I REMAKE THIS WORLD IN MY IMAGE. WATCH AS I BREAK YOUR FAMILY AND FRIENDS AND MAKE THEM MY THRALLS. WATCH AND DESPAIR!

Mazael died and woke again. 

Was this how it had been for Lucan, he wondered? He had killed Lucan atop Swordgrim. Had Lucan known this pain as he died, the crushing agony and regret? And then Lucan had been slain again before the Door of Souls, his entire life revealed to have been the Old Demon’s lie. Perhaps he had even died a third time, when he lingered long enough to tell Mazael…

To tell him that the Glamdaigyr was the Old Demon’s only weakness. 

Absurd. The Glamdaigyr would turn the Old Demon into a god.

Again Mazael perished and returned. 

Only Lion’s power or the magic of the Guardian’s staff could destroy the Old Demon. Yet Mazael could not move, and the Old Demon’s aura of might held Riothamus crushed in place. And the Old Demon was no fool. He knew the Glamdaigyr could drain power that would harm its bearer. He would not expose himself to the risk. Lion had been created to destroy the Demonsouled, and…

A desperate hope flared in Mazael’s mind.

Lion had been created to destroy the Demonsouled…and Mazael was Demonsouled.

He could not move forward. He could not break free from the Glamdaigyr’s blade.

But he could still raise his arm.

The Old Demon laughed at him.

STILL FIGHTING? USELESS. USELESS! DESPAIR AND DIE! DO YOU THINK TO THROW YOUR SWORD AT ME?

“No,” rasped Mazael, blood bubbling from his lips. “No, not throw.”

He raised his arm, and brought Lion stabbing down with all the strength he could manage.

The blade hammered through his damaged armor and sank deep into his chest. The sword’s azure flame exploded through him, and agony unlike anything Mazael had never known burned through him as the sword’s magic struggled against his Demonsouled blood. The Old Demon titled his head, puzzled.

DO YOU THINK TO ESCAPE FROM ME? YOU CANNOT. BOTH THE LIVING AND THE DEAD BELONG TO ME, AND YOU…

His eyes widened.

The Glamdaigyr shuddered as it drained Lion’s blue fire from Mazael’s body, and the Old Demon screamed.

###

Hugh stared at the horror, the dark god, taking shape in the sky.