Demonkin (44 page)

“You are going in behind me, Sergeant,” Shawn said with authority. “Lead me to the closet, but stay behind me once we get there.”

“You?” balked the sergeant. “You are not even Vinaforan.”

“True,” smiled the Ranger, “but I am leading this rescue. Have you ever used throwing stars?”

“No.” the sergeant shook his head. “But I know how to throw knives. Is that our approach?”

“I plan to come out of the closet fast,” stated Shawn. “Two stars will claim two of the soldiers. I will then be going for my sword, so leave me room to get to it. If your knife beats my sword to the third soldier, I will buy you an ale.”

“Then you will owe me an ale,” grinned the sergeant. “I’ve got two hands and a knife will be in each one. Follow me.”

Major Stark arrived on the rooftop and knelt next to one of the archers. He stared down at the street as Sergeant Zito and Shawn Cowen left the blacksmith shop and headed for the rescue attempt. The major looked up and scanned the rooftops. It was difficult to see the men he had put in place, but he nodded with satisfaction that the entire area was covered.

“Those are two brave men,” Major Stark said softly as the Ranger and the sergeant disappeared into the shop that connected with the one that they planned to attack.

“Where are they going?” asked the archer.

“To rescue Aniello,” replied the major.

“Rescue Aniello?” echoed the archer. “That is insane. I thought we were supposed to kill him.”

“Only if Daramoor’s men try to take him to the palace,” replied the major. “Besides, the attack is not insane because of the man who is accompanying Sergeant Zito. He is quite a warrior. The two of them can take three soldiers easily enough.”

“That might be true,” frowned the archer, “but there is more in that shop than three of King Daramoor’s men.”

“What are you talking about?” the major asked anxiously.

“Don’t you know?” gasped the archer. “Three more men have since entered the shop. Captain Terazini sent one of his men to the Temple of Balmak. He returned with the priest and two black-cloaks.”

The major stared at the street in horror. “Those black-cloaks are mages! Our people don’t stand a chance.” The major leaped to his feet and started running for the stairs. “I am going in,” he called back to the archer.

* * * *

Sergeant Zito led the Ranger into the closed down shop. He silently led the way through the shop to a closet and opened the door with a finger to his lips. Shawn Cowen nodded in understanding and passed by the Vinaforan patriot. The Alcean stepped into the closet and felt the far wall. It took a moment for him to feel the hidden latch, but he silently slid it open and stepped through to the closet in the shop next door. Voices immediately came to him. He listened intently as his hands reached into his pouch and grabbed two Lanoirian stars. A loud slap filled the air, followed by a short cry of pain.

“Enough,” a low voice commanded. “While I usually enjoy seeing such a display, there is no time for it today. This man’s contact is probably already on the run. We need the information quickly. Get out of my way.”

Shawn pictured the hostage bound to a chair with a soldier standing before him. When he heard the words spoken, he pictured another soldier stepping forward with a knife or other implement to torture the young corporal.  Shawn couldn’t allow the knife to come close to the corporal and still expect to save him. He knew that he had to act quickly.

“I am going in now,” whispered Shawn. “It will be a noisy entrance to draw them away from Aniello.”

The Alcea Ranger used his boot to kick open the door of the closet. His eyes took in the room instantly, and fear gripped his heart with what he saw. Instead of the three enemy soldiers he had expected to see, he stood opposing three soldiers, two black-cloaks, and K’san. The Ranger had felt fear before, but he never let the feeling paralyze him. Shawn made an instant change to his plans as his six opponents turned towards him in reaction to the noise of the closet door opening.

Shawn charged out of the dark closet, both arms extending before him. He snapped his wrists, and two Lanoirian stars sped from his fingertips. The enemy froze in surprise, but only for a moment. Both stars impacted the intended targets, and the two black-cloaks cried out in pain. One of the black-cloaks stared at the ceiling as his knees buckled, a star imbedded in his forehead. The other black-cloak gurgled as his hands rose to the star imbedded in his throat.

Time seemed to slow for the Alcea Ranger as he charged forward. He saw the two mages start to tumble to the ground, and he saw the Federation soldiers clawing for their swords, but what caught his attention the most was the rising arm of K’san, and Shawn was heading straight into it. Shawn veered to his left as his hands reached for his sword. He got his hands on the hilt of his sword, and he dove for the floor as he pulled it free of its sheath. The dark room lit brilliantly as a blinding ball of fire soared over his head. He felt the heat of the magical projectile as he slammed to the floor and slid past the enemy.

Shawn’s head hit the wall beyond K’san. His sword slipped from his hands and his head swam with dizziness. The Ranger concentrated on the sword and forced his mind to focus as he gripped it. He rose to his knees to strike out at K’san, but a second ball of fire slammed into his chest. The force of the projectile slammed the Ranger into the wall, and the brilliance blinded him. He could feel his chest burning, and a scream escaped his lips.

* * * *

Sergeant Zito stood in the dark of the closet. He held a knife in each hand as the Ranger kicked open the closet door. From his position at the rear of the closet, the sergeant could only see K’san and the two black-cloaks. He frowned in confusion at their presence, but he knew that it was too late to withdraw. He watched as Shawn raced into the room, and he saw the stars strike the two mages. As the patriot stepped forward to throw his knives, a brilliant light flared in the room. Sergeant Zito brought his arms up to shield his eyes and stepped back into the darkness. He blinked rapidly, trying to restore his eyesight.

The blindness only lasted a moment, and the sergeant stepped forward again. The soldiers and K’san were facing away from him, and the sergeant wasted no time. Although the enemy figures were shrouded with a fuzziness brought on by the brilliant flash, the sergeant threw one of the knives at the enemy. He saw it strike a soldier in the back as he switched the second knife to his right hand. He threw the second knife at another soldier and immediately reached for his sword. The second knife struck home, and the sergeant raced out of the closet.

A second flare of light filled the room, and the sergeant’s eyes were blinded by the brilliant spell. He heard the scream of the Alcean warrior and knew that Shawn had been struck down. Running blind, Zito held his sword before him and continued charging. He smiled inwardly as he felt the sword impale someone and then strike something hard. He heard a cry of pain and opened his eyes. A vague figure stood before him, the lifeless body flush against the wall his sword had imbedded into. As his eyes cleared, he recognized the body of Captain Terazini impaled on his sword. He tried to pull the sword free of the wall, but it would not budge. Looking to his right, his mouth opened in horror as he saw K’san raising his arm towards him.

The sergeant let go of the sword and stumbled backwards away from the towering priest. K’san’s face held a scowl of rage as his arm straightened towards the sergeant. Sergeant Zito backed into a piece of furniture and froze in horror as he prepared to die. Unexpectedly, the priest’s arm faltered and began to fall. Sergeant Zito frowned in confusion as he watched the blade of a sword emerge from K’san’s chest. The tall priest’s body sagged and slowly collapsed to the floor. Zito stared in horror at the figure behind the priest. Shawn Cowen released his hold on the sword through the priest’s body. With a fire consuming his chest, the Alcea Ranger smiled thinly and collapsed to the floor. Sergeant Zito raced across the floor and slid to a halt next to Shawn’s body. He tried to beat out the fire consuming the Ranger, but it was no use. Shawn Cowen was dead.

Sergeant Zito knelt unmoving for a moment alongside the body of the Ranger. Unexpectedly, he heard a noise off to his right. He whirled towards the noise, rising to his feet. Another Federation soldier had entered the room through the closet, and the sergeant realized that he no longer had a weapon. His eyes darted around the room for something to defend himself with.

“Easy, Sergeant,” the new arrival said. “I am Major Stark, and I am a patriot. Is Shawn dead?”

The sergeant stared at the major for a moment of indecision before he realized that the officer knew Shawn’s name. He nodded silently in response to the question.

“Untie Aniello,” ordered the major. “We need to get out of here quickly, but do not let the corporal leave without me. We have archers on the roofs, and it would not be healthy for him to step out in the open until I give a signal.”

The sergeant didn’t move, and Major Stark looked on in understanding.

“He will be missed,” the major said sadly, “but he would want us to carry on the struggle. Get Aniello untied. I want Shawn’s body removed from here, and I want all of our weapons retrieved as well. I will go get a cart.”

The major disappeared and the sergeant got to his feet. He retrieved one of his knives out of the body of a soldier and then walked to the chair that Corporal Aniello was bound to. He cut through the ropes securing the corporal and then shook him to awaken him. The corporal moaned in pain and eventually opened his eyes. He glanced around at the bodies littering the floor and shook his head in confusion.

“Zito? What happened?”

“A patriot died today,” Sergeant Zito said sadly. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” The corporal nodded. “They just slapped me around a bit. Who is he?” he asked as he nodded towards Shawn’s body.

“A man who gave his life for yours,” the sergeant replied vaguely. “Don’t waste it by making such a foolish recruitment attempt in the future.”

* * * *

Deep in the Forest of Death, D’Lycind was admiring his creation. D’Artim stood alongside his fellow demon as they discussed the latest Claw of Alutar.

“He is much more appealing than Wycaramor,” grinned D’Lycind. “Wycaramor is old, balding, and fat, but Lycindor is young and athletic. His long blond hair will drive human women to their knees.”

“The Claws are not meant to be worshipped by human women,” retorted D’Artim. “They have only one purpose for being. Do not forget that.”

“I was talking about after the Mage’s heroes are vanquished,” countered D’Lycind. “A victory celebration can be a wonderful thing for all.”

“You underestimate the power of the Mage’s chosen,” scowled D’Artim. “Even the power of Alutar’s Claws will be severely tested. You would do well to remember that K’san was once thought to be the ultimate weapon.”

As if hearing his name mentioned, K’san suddenly shouted in anger. The two demons turned towards the demonkin with questioning gazes.

“Waxhaw again!” wailed the demonkin. “I shall destroy that city.”

“What has happened?” D’Artim demanded to know. “Speak!”

“A demonkin was destroyed in Waxhaw,” replied K’san. “Another sword that is more than a sword. I must avenge him.”

“How is this happening?” asked D’Lycind. “The demonkin were supposed to be indestructible.”

When D’Artim did not immediately respond, D’Lycind turned to see what he was doing. He found the other demon staring at Lycindor.

“What is the matter?” asked D’Lycind.

“The Claws of Alutar do not share the herd mind of K’san,” D’Artim stated. “Look. Lycindor has no idea that a demonkin was just struck down.”

“Perhaps he just doesn’t care,” suggested D’Lycind. “Perhaps he considers himself far above such a petty creature as K’san. You did say that they were far more powerful.”

“Perhaps,” D’Artim said with disbelief. The demon strode over to the Claw of Alutar and stood before him. “Where is Wycaramor?”

The demonkin turned and stared blankly at the demon. “I am not Wycaramor. I am Lycindor.”

“Where is Wycaramor?” D’Artim repeated. “Tell me.”

“I do not know Wycaramor,” frowned the demonkin. “Why do you ask me where he is?”

D’Artim turned away from the Claw of Alutar and stared at K’san. He watched the rage rising in the black priest and shook his head.

“The Claws are single-minded in purpose,” D’Lycind said softly.

“They are.” D’Artim nodded. “They will not be distracted from their task. Nothing will save the Mage’s heroes this time.”

* * * *

Garth Shado stood in the newly-created chamber in the dwarven mines of Tarashin. The chamber was octagonal with one of the sides reserved for the only normal entrance. The wall directly across from the entrance was bare, but each of the other walls had a wooden Door firmly attached to it. Signs above the Doors indicated the destinations reached through the magical portals. As the Knight of Alcea stood admiring the work of the dwarves, he sensed someone coming up behind him. He turned casually, a knife sliding into his hand.

“It is only me, Garth,” Kalina called to him.

Garth nodded silently and slid the knife back into its sheath.

“This chamber is hard to find,” Kalina said as she entered the room. “The corridors are like a maze.”

“That is how it needs to be,” Garth answered. “This chamber will be as protected as any entrance to the mine. The presence of the Doors leave the dwarves open to attack. King Drakarik has taken every precaution to prevent that. Did Prince Rigal and his men get off safely?”

“They left early this morning,” replied Kalina. “They took a Door with them as you requested.”

“Excellent.” Garth nodded. “Now we need to figure out how to get the rest of the Doors distributed.”

“That might have to wait,” Kalina said with hesitancy in her voice.

Garth’s brow furrowed with concern. He knew the tone of his wife’s voice indicated that something had gone wrong. He waited quietly to hear the news.