Firestorm (The Sword of Light Trilogy Book 2) (10 page)

Caelin spat, waving his sword. “I hear you were a great fighter once, one who did not need to use magic as a crutch in his battles. Are you too much a coward to fight me?”

“A coward? No,” the demon loomed over Caelin. “But I am no fool either. You will not distract me, mortal,” he raised a hand and swung. An invisible force gripped Caelin by the shoulders and hurled him back into the others.

The laughter came again, curling around them, stealing their courage.

Eric stood against it, lightning crackling in his palm. “Leave now, demon.”

The demon stared down at him. “So we meet again, Magicker. Your power was most exquisite. A shame I could not keep it,” it’s head twisted. “Perhaps this time,” it disappeared with a blink.

Time stood still for Eric. He tried to move, to throw himself aside, but his feet seemed stuck, frozen in place. He knew what would come next, could almost feel the deathly touch of the
Soul Blade
. The breath hissed from his lungs as he watched his companions, saw the horror on their faces.

Except Michael’s. Somehow the doctor was already moving, his shoulder crashing into Eric, smashing him from his feet. Eric tumbled backwards, eyes locked on Michael’s, his fear turning to dread.

Michael stared back, and smiled.

His eyes widened as the
Soul Blade
pierced his heart, but the smile did not falter. The black metal tore through his chest, the demon’s cackle ringing from the trees. A gurgling cough came from the doctor’s throat. Then the demon pulled back its blade, and sent Michael toppling to the ground beside him. Tears ran down Eric’s cheeks as the light faded from his friend’s eyes.

“
No!
” he turned on the demon, lightning surging through his body. Without thought, he unleashed it on the creature.

The bolt struck Thomas’ body and hurled him backwards into the thicket. Eric climbed to his feet, energy crackling in his fists, but the demon had vanished.

Its voice echoed from all around. “Another foolish mortal,” it whispered. “Giving away his life for yours. But then, what use is a priest without his God, I wonder? Perhaps he simply wished to join her,” the cackle came again.

Anger surged within Eric. He made no effort to control it, feeling the power building inside him, the raw energies of his wild magic. Ruin had already come to this city; his magic could not make things worse now. The demon had to be stopped.

The magic rushed from him, summoning the elements of the Sky, binding them together in a conflagration of wind and hail and lightning.

The rage washed all thought from Eric’s mind, leaving only the single, burning desire to destroy Archon’s dark servant.

When the demon stepped back into the light, he unleashed his magic. The very air shook at its coming. With a crash it struck the demon, light flashing and wind gusting as it hurled the dark thing backwards. An explosion rung out as it struck, a blast of wind knocking them flat.

Eric rolled across the ground, struggling to force his magic back into its cage, to protect his comrades from its wrath. He braced himself against the wind, squinting through the dust. Smoke hung where the demon had stood. The blast had blown Michael’s body clear. He lay face down, unmoving, blood pooling around him.

The smoke began to clear, drifting away with the dying gusts of wind.

And the soft cackle of the demon echoed through the forest.

Inken nocked an arrow, spinning to search the woods for the laughter’s source. A shiver ran through her soul, but she refused to bend. The bowstring twanged as she loosed into the smoke still drifting in the street. Before the arrow vanished she had already nocked another.

“Caelin, Gabriel, get Enala out of here!” she yelled.

She spared a glance for Michael, a lump catching in her throat as she took in the pool of blood surrounding him. He lay motionless, his bag discarded, medicines scattered across the broken road. She fought back tears; there would be time later to grieve. Or so she prayed.

Caelin grabbed Enala and they retreated down the burnt path. Eric stepped up beside Inken, lightning still crackling in his hands. The sight raised hackles on her neck – she doubted she’d ever become used to the sight. But just now Eric’s magic offered their only chance of holding their own. They had learned in Malevolent Cove just how ineffective mortal weapons were against this foe.

Stones cracked as the demon stepped from the shadows, arms raised. Before they could react, the ground shook, throwing them from their feet. A crack split the earth, racing towards them, and Inken reached desperately for Eric’s hand. But the fissure tore between them, ripping them apart, and she found only empty air.

Inken struggled to her feet, gripping her bow tight as the ground continued to shift. Across the chasm now separating them, she watched Eric fighting for his life, the deadly vines all around. Lightning flashed, but it no longer seemed so effective. The vines wrapped about his torso, thorns tearing into flesh.

Then there was no more time to think about Eric. The demon stood before her, sword raised, and it was all she could do throw herself backwards. The razor edged blade swept past her eyes, slicing through a stray wisp of hair. She already knew her sword was useless against this foe. She could only hope to it distracted long enough for the others to get free.

“Why do you resist? You cannot hope to defeat me. Do you really think you can save her, that I would allow her to escape?” the demon waved a hand.

Inken risked a glance back. Lead settled in the pit of her stomach. The forest had already claimed her comrades, trapping their arms and legs in the thorny thicket. Blood ran down the dark tendrils, the monstrous tree trunks standing in wait, mouths stretched wide.

Tears brimmed in Inken’s eyes as her strength evaporated. She sank to her knees and stared up at the demon, grief blurring her vision.

“Good girl. You know when you are finished. I will enjoy watching the girl die, after what her
dragon
did to me,” the demon growled the last words.

“Pity the beast did not finish the job,” a voice boomed from overhead.

Inken’s heart surged as Jurrien plummeted from the sky, energy crackling around him. Blue fire fell with him, it’s almost tender touch burning through the black forest. Her companions regained their freedom as the vines holding them crumbled to nothing. They stood in a daze, staring at the Storm God, blood running from their limbs.

“You did not think you could fool me forever, did you
Thomas?
” the God growled, his voice crackling with power.

The demon king laughed. “Ah Jurrien, I was wondering when you would arrive. Late as usual, my old friend. Although I admit, I had been hoping to take care of our companions here before you arrived. I’m sure they will wait though.”

“No, this ends here,
Thomas
. I should have guessed the magic had taken you long ago. I should have hunted you down then, put you out of your misery. But no longer,” Jurrien pointed a finger. “Your suffering ends today, old friend.”

The demon drew the second
Soul Blade
and waved it at Jurrien. “This one’s for you, old man. Archon forged them himself,” he held up the first blade, staring into its sickly green glow. “He was very pleased to see how well they worked. Your sister put up quite the fight.”

Jurrien’s face darkened. Inken backed away as the air crackled. A dull pain shot through her skull and her ears popped as the air pressure plummeted. Storm clouds took shape and began to circle Jurrien. Lightning lit the black clouds and wind howled through the trees. Inken braced herself against the tiny hurricane as the very earth shook with its power.

In the eye of the storm, Jurrien released his pent up fury, screaming as he threw out his hands. A ball of lightning gathered between them. Jurrien drew back an arm, and hurled it at his foe.

The demon was already moving, retreating into what shelter remained of its dark forest. But Jurrien would not be deterred. He wrenched his hands apart and the ball exploded outwards. A rain of lightning tore apart the forest, burning the trees to dust. The dark powers of the earth retreated before the Storm God’s rage.

Jurrien stalked into the smoking remains, the hurricane still swirling about him. His ice blue eyes searched the ruin, seeking the demon.

But his foe was not defeated yet. The earth beneath Jurrien tore open, revealing a vast gulf stretching down to a red glow far below. The God dropped several feet before the wind caught him and propelled him upwards.

Inken stumbled as the earth shook. With a roar the pit snapped closed, entombing Jurrien in solid rock.

Panic gripped Inken. Then a blue light pierced the broken cobbles, streaming up into the night. A bright flash forced her to look away. A groan came from the ground, then a boom. When she turned back a crater marked the street, and Jurrien now hovered several feet above the ground. A purple bruise marked his face, but he scowled down at the demon, undeterred.

The demon raised a sword in mock salute. “You are a wily foe. At least you put up more of a fight than your sister.”

Vines burst from the street, ensnaring the God’s legs. The demon leapt as they dragged Jurrien lower, the
Soul Blade
aimed for his chest. A spear of lightning materialised in Jurrien’s hand, sweeping down to block the blow. Swinging it further, he burned himself free and spun in the air. Roaring in defiance, he hurled the spear at the demon.

Sparks erupted outwards as the spear struck home. The full power of the God’s rage hurled the demon backwards, sending it bouncing across the rubble. Thunder rumbled as another spear of energy appeared in Jurrien’s hand. As he hurled it the demon rolled, and the lightning scorched only bare earth.

Jurrien dropped to the ground, wind swirling in his frost white hair.

Inken turned ad stumbled back towards her companions, thunder ringing in her ears. Together they retreated from the fight, the flashes of lightning crashing around them, the fallout from the battle coming dangerously close to killing them all.

Twenty feet further down the pockmarked road, they drew to a stop, hedged in by the last trees of the demon’s forest. Eric drew Inken into an embrace before they faced the others. Despite the Storm God’s efforts, the demon still seemed unstoppable. And its forest, decimated as it was, still surrounded them.

“What do we do?” Caelin shouted over the shriek of the battle.

“There’s nothing we can do for him. This is his fight,” Eric replied. “The lightning I control is nothing to that creature, only Jurrien seems to have the power to harm it.”

“We have to get out of here,” Gabriel spoke up, casting a nervous glance at the two titans. “Just in case things don’t go our way.”

“Can you burn another path?” Inken asked.

Eric shook his head. “I’ve already tried. The vines are growing resistant, and regenerating themselves faster than I can cut my way through. The demon does not want us going anywhere.”

Inken hesitated, an idea coming to her. It was dangerous, but it might be their only way out. “What if we fly?” she asked.

Eric paled. “I’ve only tried that a couple of times since it went wrong in Lon. Jurrien warned me…”

“I think Jurrien has other things on his mind right now,” Enala offered.

Inken eyed the Storm God. The battle had closed to weapons now,
Soul Blade
against Jurrien’s spear of lightning. Jurrien looked hard pressed to hold the demon at bay, its dark blade coming closer and closer. Sweat dripped from his brow and Inken wondered how much energy the Storm God had already spent.

Eric ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “Okay, maybe. Let me see,” he closed his eyes, forehead creased in concentration.

The forest began to sway in the rising air currents. Then the roar of the wind arrived, drowning out the clashing blades. It tore at Inken’s hair, flicking leaves and stones at their faces as a vortex gathered around them.

A shiver ran down Inken’s neck as the pressure lifted her half a foot off the ground. Her arms windmilled, struggling to keep her upright, and her heart beat hard in her chest. But the wind pushed all around her, keeping her stable.

But there she stayed, hovering only two feet from the earth. A minute passed, then another. Sweat beaded Eric’s forehead, until at last he released his breath and they dropped gently back to the ground. She looked at Eric, heart sinking.

“There’s too many of us,” his voice was a whisper. “I can’t concentrate the wind enough to carry us all.”

Inken closed her eyes, fighting back tears. She summoned the image of the temple courtyard, drawing strength from the few quiet moments they had stolen together. She knew what they had to do, but it took all her courage to speak the words. “Then you have to take her. You have to take Enala, and leave the rest of us behind. She’s all that matters now.”

“No,” Inken did not miss the tremor in Eric’s voice. “I won’t leave you,” he shook his head, looking around the circle. “Any of you.”

Inken reached out and grasped his shoulders. She kissed him, and drew back. “You have too, Eric. You have to get her as far from here as possible.”

“We can’t just leave you here,” Enala interrupted. “We can’t abandon you!”

“You can, and you will,” Caelin stepped in. “Inken’s right, your life must be our priority. If you die, we are as good as dead anyway,” he turned to Eric. “Do it, Eric.”

Inken nodded. “You can do it, Eric. You must.”

He looked into her eyes for a long moment. She saw the pain there, the uncertainty. But they both knew this was their only option. It had to be done. They could only pray Jurrien would emerge victorious.

Finally, Eric closed his eyes, forehead scrunched with lines of worry. “Okay. Come on, Enala. Let’s see if this works.”

Enala stepped up beside him and the wind gathered again. This time the currents did not buffer Inken or the others. They watched from without the whirling tempest as Enala’s hair whipped in the air, the red lock caught beneath her ear.

Inken’s eyes fixed with Eric’s. His face grew grim and her own heart twisted with despair. She struggled to keep it from her face though, least Eric turn back. Instead she blew him a kiss.

This time it did not take long for Eric’s magic to work. The two lifted from the ground, rising higher and higher into the air. Enala gripped Eric’s hand, holding them together as they drifted over the forest towards the river.

Inken stretched up on her toes to watch them go. She raised a hand above her head in farewell, and saw Eric and Enala do the same. Then they were gone, vanishing over the distant rooftops, and all she felt was the pain of loss. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, but she fought them off. She took a great, shuddering breath, struggling for composure.

Fists clenched, she turned to the others. “Now what?”

*************

Jurrien gritted his teeth and took a step back. Exhaustion crept through his soul and a dull ache throbbed in the muscles of his back. Blood ran down his arms and chest from a dozen small cuts. The kiss of the
Soul Blade
stung, sucking at his life force. Lightning crackled in his hand, the pain feeding his anger.

Thomas stood across from him, the same sly smile on his face.
It is not Thomas
, he reminded himself. The man who had been Thomas was long gone. Sadly, the old king’s proficiency with the blade had not been lost with him. Jurrien would not win this battle of blades, but so far the demon had evaded each of his attacks. 

“Take all the time you need, Jurrien. The
Soul Blade
will wait,” again the soft cackle.

Jurrien scowled back, reaching deep for the strength he needed. He heard the silent cries of his people from all around, the pleading of the townsfolk suffering the wrath of this monster’s magic.

“Are you ready to die, demon?” he growled.

Thomas swung the
Soul Blade
in a lazy ark and yawned. “I’ll admit, Jurrien, I do enjoy the contest. Not many have held their own against me. Of all Archon’s warriors, I am the greatest. His champion, as Alastair once was to me,” he shook his head. “I am disappointed the old Magicker did not meet his end at my hand. Alastair deserved better than a death to one so low as Balistor.”

Jurrien closed his eyes, the demon’s words drowning in the sea of misery echoing from his people.

I cannot let my sister’s magic be perverted like this
, the thought spurred him on.