Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (30 page)

           
Silverwing
tempted the demon with an opening move meant to draw an attack, seeking a
suitable place to strike. The knight held one blade in a defensive position in
front of his chest as the other blade darted out to find purchase in the
demon's hide. The Tharnorsa dropped into a crouch, causing the attack to pass
harmlessly over his shoulder; its envenomed tail swept the blade away from the
creature's body. The wisdom of Lord Silverwing's defensive posturing soon
became evident.
 
The demon's black blade
jabbed violently forward, seeking to penetrate the knight's chest.
 
Silverwing's blade glowed with his movement
to parry the demon's blade, as if it found the contact with the black blade
offensive, causing the thrust to strike the floor. The white blade swung in a
brief reversing arc, taking advantage of the opening the knight created, biting
deeply into the demon's shoulder.

           
The
Tharnorsa brought the blade up in a defensive posture of its own, moved to
speak by the successful attack. “Well placed, Lord Silverwing, but I think you
will find more than that is required to undo me.” The weeping wound in the
demon's shoulder knitted itself as the creature spoke, and the demon swept his
tail high, nearly striking Silverwing's own shoulder in reply. The demon had
obviously pulled the killing sting, and the knight wondered at his tormentor's
mercy. It seemed it was not the creature's intent to kill him after all.

           
Lord
Silverwing stepped backward, bringing his swords parallel to his chest with the
tips pointing to the heavens. “You have grown powerful since last we met, and
more cunning, but you will find you are no match for a master of the blades in
service to the God of Light.” A more aggressive approach would be required to
disable the demon. It was only a moment before the knight saw the opening he
sought. The first glowing blade in Silverwing's hand struck at the demon's
black blade, gliding powerfully toward the weapon's hilt as the knight angled
his own sword to force the Tharnorsa's blade toward the ground at his side.
Silverwing ignored the swift darting movements of the demon's tail, focusing on
his target with his second blade. A short downward slice carved the demon's
weaponless hand away, leaving the dismembered claws curling into a fist on the
ground.

           
The
demon withdrew his own sword, nearly catching Silverwing's shimmering blade in
its jagged teeth, as the creature retreated several steps to recover. A coarse
growl hissed from the demon's tight mouth as the severed arm sprouted small
bits of scaly flesh, slowly regenerating the lost hand. “It is good to see you
will provide some challenge to me after all, blade master. Do not revel in your
success too long.” The demon brought his wounded arm up and flexed the stumps
that were already forming to replace those cut from him, pointed tips emerging
like the extended claws of a wildcat. “There is no mark with which you can mar this
body that I cannot readily heal.” As the demon finished speaking, he shifted
his sword from its present hand to the newly regenerated one. Despite the
Tharnorsa's words, Silverwing suspected there was something the demon feared.
The implication of the demon's tightened grip on the
 
sword's hilt, the claws of the wielding hand
digging deeply into the creature's palm, was not lost on the knight. In his
many years of struggle against evil, he had learned one lesson better than any
other.
 
The movements of one's opponent
gave you more knowledge in the best way to destroy them than any words they
chose to share. What did the demon fear? That was a question Silverwing had to
answer quickly.

           
“You
assume too much, light bearer.” The demon spat the words out as if they were
poison on his forked tongue. “You have no power here, and when this fight is
over, you will lie on the ground at my mercy. In time you will plead for
release from pain; you will even beg for the tortures awaiting you in the
Abyss. Your God has forsaken you, Lord Silverwing, and in time you will curse
his holy name.”

           
These
words were too much for the knight to bear. Silverwing crossed the two blades
of his blessed swords before his chest and stepped into the demon's reach,
meaning to limit the movements of the demon. The creature's step backward
betrayed his intention, but Silverwing missed his advantage momentarily, and
its venomous tail snaked between the two combatants. The tip of the demon's
tail came between the knight's blades, pressing into the place where the two
hilts touched and forcing Silverwing to shift his feet to maintain his balance.
The strong tail's interference prevented Silverwing from striking at the
demon's throat as he had intended, and opened the knight's defenses as he cut
away the tail just below its scaly flaps, taking a step backward to get out of
the reach of the demon's sword. Silverwing had underestimated the demon's
desire to wound him, and the creature's speed. The knight realized his error
too late as he felt the bite of the Tharnorsa's cursed blade sliding through
his thin leather armor, the jagged blade ripping into his chest with the force
of the thrust. Silverwing's lung opened to the hot air in the cavern as the
demon withdrew his blade slowly, with a wet sucking sound. “That would be one
wound we now share, knight. Do try to protect yourself better now that you know
my intention. It is a pity about the tail. That will take a few moments longer
to regenerate since I do not normally possess the extension. That piece is
drawn from the ether to create the flesh of the tail, and will take longer
because of its nature. You should seize the advantage while you have it.” The
demon drew the wet blade in front of his eyes, admiring the blood of his victim
running down its length. “It is good to see you bleed the same as any other
mortal, Lord Silverwing. I half expected this God of Light you serve to heal
you. So much for the profit of faith and duty.”

           
Silverwing
wanted to reply, but found he could not. His wounded lung sapped his strength
even as he prepared to engage the demon once more. Silverwing brought his
blades to defensive positions once more at his sides, inviting the demon to
strike out at him. The knight was already weakening, and he took little solace
in knowing the demon's intention.

           
The
demon lowered his own blade to his side. The blade master could not help
noticing the demon had shifted his blade to the clawed hand opposite
Silverwing's pierced lung. He stared at the knight knowingly as blood stained
Silverwing's leathers. “You had a solid plan of attack. Unfortunately, your
execution of the tactic failed to take all the potential elements of my defense
into account. I nod to your skills and give you another attempt at beheading
me. You no longer possess the power to destroy me, even with your God's
intervention. Pray for that power and strike.” The demon's head tilted
backward, exposing its neck, as it spread its arms wide in mock submission.

           
Silverwing's
blades ignited with divine force as he crossed the blades at his chest once
more. The creature's sinewy flesh at his scaly neck flexed taunt as the knight
stepped forward to deliver the killing cut.
 
Silverwing summoned all the strength he possessed, sweeping his swords
to either side of the demon's pulsing throat and scissoring the blades against
the exposed flesh. Laughter burst from the Tharnorsa as each blade met the
creature's neck, bouncing away harmlessly. The demon brought his own blade up
as the force of the knight's attempt pushed Silverwing back, betraying the
blade bearer.
 
Once more the demon's
sword stabbed into the knight as the knight's arms shot out to his own sides, a
second wound to match the first appearing in Silverwing's chest. Silverwing
stumbled, attempting to keep his feet under him as pain suffused his body and
his strength left him. Peace would come soon. The knight knew there was no way
he could survive the wounds, and he had no intention of healing himself.

           
The
demon had other plans, and spoke to the knight as if he had read his thoughts.
“There is to be no peace for you, Lord Silverwing. You will bear the marks of
this meeting until I tire of your existence in this world. Your suffering will
find you praying for death until all faith in your God has been extinguished.
Allow me to tend your wounds.” The touch of the demon's clawed hands was only
the beginning of Silverwing's pain. The demon reached into his chest, expertly
sealing the wounds with the fires at his command, and left only two large scars
on the knight's chest to indicate Silverwing had been stabbed. “Rest for now,
and I will have the priests tend to you. I want you fully aware when I begin to
torture you, Lord Silverwing.”

18

Hell’s Doorway

           
The
last of the warriors of faith, one devoted to the God of Light, two following
the Goddess of Nature, and the rogue trusting in luck, sat near the fire in the
middle of a desolate road leading into the darkness of the Forsaken Mountains.
Gregor prayed quietly. He had taken up the habit each night of offering thanks
to the God of Light, and entreating his God to provide safety for Lord
Silverwing. The holy warrior knew what news Sephia's companion brought before
the falcon had landed on her shoulder. Gregor had felt a surge of pain course
through his body, bringing his head to his bent knees in front of him, and knew
his master was made to suffer, or worse. Boremac was the first to notice that
his daggers no longer glowed.
 
The rogue
wondered what it could mean.

           
Tana
had risen to comfort Gregor, only to be brought up short by his raised hand.
The young knight raised his head from his bent knees and shared his pain with
the others. “I have failed my master. Lord Silverwing can find no peace. The
Tharnorsa has him and I only pray the demon will allow him to live until I can
reach him.
 
Only his faith can save him
now.”

           
Keen,
the falcon at Sephia's shoulder, dipped its head briefly as if in reverence as
Gregor spoke. The bird related what it had witnessed to its companion with the
light clicking of its beak and subtle wing flourishes. Sephia stared at Keen
intently before she turned to address the others at the fire. “Lord Silverwing
has been taken, and all those who traveled with him were slain. Keen followed
your mentor's captors and has found a way into the place where he was taken.
Keen was unable to see what lies beyond the entrance to the cave where the
demon bloods dragged him, but no one emerged after entering. We will find Lord
Silverwing there.”

           
Gregor
turned his face to speak directly to the Ardataure, the only remaining
representative of the Ancient Forest Sephia called home. “Sephia, you must go
to Mistress Mithrina and inform her we have found the enemy. She will want to
assemble whom she can to purge the lands of this plague. We can find our way to
the cave with your guidance and have no need of your scouting any longer. You
are the fastest of our number, and Keen can fly ahead of you as well to deliver
the message, I assume.”

           
Sephia
nodded in assent. “Yes, Mistress Mithrina will understand the message he brings
to the Grove. I will go and do as you wish. Goddess protect you all.” The
keeper of the Ancient Forest disappeared into the dark night, heading down the
road back toward the Grove in Zanthfar, after making a detailed outline of the
best route for the group to follow to find the tunnel they would need to enter.

           
Boremac
coughed into his hand to draw Tana and Gregor's attention. Gregor was not sure
if it was the firelight, or something else, but the rogue appeared concerned.
He waited patiently for the rogue to speak. “Master Gregor, or Gregor if you
please and take no offense, do you really think it is wise to challenge a foe
that appears to have so easily taken Lord Silverwing? The knight's skills, and
wisdom besides, were far beyond your own. Even if we give you the credit of
possessing some advantage by knowing who you face, the power of the Tharnorsa
and this possessed priest together would be your undoing. I see little profit
in you facing the two of them at so severe a disadvantage.” Tana voiced her
thoughts with a huff at hearing the rogues' words, but chose to allow the men
to continue their dialogue without interruption.

           
Despite
the lingering pain in Gregor's body, he smiled knowingly at Boremac before
replying. “They underestimate my commitment, and I doubt you and Tana have been
factored into their careful planning. They expect only a young holy warrior
bent on vengeance, not a cunning rogue devoted to self-preservation and a
huntress who has skills that are unmatched among her kind. I think you can
appreciate the advantage of surprise on the side of our meager group.”