Knight Eternal (A Novel of Epic Fantasy) (Harbinger of Doom Volume 3) (13 page)

Men rushed in to strike the creature, but
each blade passed through it, just as ineffective as the last. The
creature lashed out and struck one man and then another. Both
exploded into heaps of dust at the hellspawn’s touch, their screams
echoing through the souls of all aboard.

“
Devil’s work,” yelled one
man.

“
Demon,” cried
another.

The creature moved ever
forward, toward the bridge. Men scattered and fled before it,
falling over one another to get out of its path. Glimador appeared
with his bowmen. They sent a flight of arrows at the thing. Each
hit its mark, but just as all the other weapons, they passed
through, doing the creature no harm. An unlucky seaman across the
deck fell with an arrow in his arm, another took one in his
belly.

“
Torches,” yelled Ob
through the bridge deck’s rail. “Burn the stinking
thing.”

Several men grabbed burning brands from
sconces at the ship’s rails and moved toward the creature.

“
Shouldn’t we do
something?” said Claradon to Theta.

“
Not until we know how to
slay it. Let’s see how the torches fare.”

The glow of Claradon’s
amulet brightened sharply. Claradon started, grabbed at the
amulet’s chain and pulled it away from his chest. He winced in
pain, for the amulet had grown fiery hot and electric to the touch,
even as a blast of icy cold air washed over him, and the rain
turned instantly to sleet and hail.

Beside him, Theta spun around and raised his
sword just in time to block the blow of another creature that had
appeared behind them. Like the one below, it was luminescent,
translucent and blurry, more spectre than man. The creature’s
clawed hand thundered into Theta’s falchion, but did not pass
through. The impact slammed Theta into the rail. A loud popping
sound rang out as the rail cracked and splintered and nearly gave
way.

The creature held fast
Theta’s falchion in a grip stronger than any mortal’s. The tips of
the thing’s deadly claws were just inches from his flesh; only the
ancient sword and Theta’s muscle held it at bay. But since Theta
dared not touch the thing except with the sword, he had no leverage
and could not push it back.

Nature turned to chaos.
The rain became frost and ice in Theta’s hair, mustache, and on his
cloak. Brimstone burned his nose and the air grew thin and frigid,
and sapped his strength. Theta’s face contorted as he strained to
push the creature back, but then, where the creature’s claws
enveloped it, his sword’s blade began to warp and melt and
threatened to collapse.

Claradon stepped behind the creature.
Two-handed, he slammed the ancestral sword of House Eotrus into the
creature’s back with all his might. The blade passed through it,
meeting no resistance, and sliced into Theta’s chest. Sparks
erupted as the sword’s tip cleaved through Theta’s cloak and into
his breastplate.

“
Zounds!” said Claradon.
He stepped back, shock, confusion, and fear filled his
face.

Unfazed by Claradon’s
blow, Theta rolled against the rail and sidestepped, desperate to
evade the thing’s deadly touch, even as his sword folded over in
ruin and dropped from his grasp. The ship’s rail iced over, gave
way, and slammed into several men when it collapsed to the deck
below.

“
What do we do, Theta?”
shouted Ob.

Theta never took his eyes from the creature.
“Stay clear, you fools.”

“
I will have thy soul,
traitor,” spat the creature in a deep gravelly voice. “Ye wilt not
escape this time.”

Theta backpedaled. The creature pursued him
and raked the air with its claws.

“
You fight on the wrong
side, Einheriar,” said Theta. “You’ve lost your way.”

The creature paused for a moment. “I be on
god’s side, as always, deceiver. I be sworn to destroy all evil and
destroy ye I will.”

The creature bounded
forward and was on Theta in an instant, but he had bought just
enough time to slide the Asgardian daggers from his belt sheaths. A
thin smile formed on Theta’s face, and his steely eyes remained
locked on the creature’s torso.

The Einheriar launched a hail of murderous
blows that belied its plodding footwork. Theta dodged or parried
each thunderous strike with one of his long daggers; his iron-like
arms shuddered with each impact; ice flew off the blades, shattered
off Theta’s arms, and refroze just as quickly. Theta feinted to one
side, then sidestepped in the other. Now partially behind the
creature, he plunged Dargus Dal into its lower back. With a sound
of rending metal, the Asgardian blade sank deep, deep into where a
man’s kidney would be.

The Einheriar howled—a
high-pitched, piercing wail that no mortal’s throat could emit. So
loud was it, it brought Ob, Claradon, and N’Paag to their knees,
though Theta seemed unaffected. The creature spun toward Theta,
bile oozing from its lips. It convulsed, and a blast of flaming
green ichor erupted from its mouth and sprayed across the deck.
Theta dodged, and turned his face away, but some of the vile spray
lashed across his torso, shoulder, and back, and set his cloak
afire, despite the ice that clung to it. Where the ichor struck the
deck, it hissed and sputtered, turned the water and ice to
billowing, hissing steam, and seared the deck planks. Wisps of fire
caught here and there on the deck, though the rain held them in
check.

Theta barely pulled off the flaming cloak
before the creature was at him again, ignoring its wound, from
which flowed a thick green slime that was its lifeblood. It lashed
its claws at Theta’s face. He ducked below the strike and dived
into a roll that brought him up behind the creature. Theta thrust
Wotan Dal to the hilt in the left side of the creature’s back, the
blow so powerful it lifted the Einheriar from the deck. It wailed
in agony as Theta held it suspended in the air.

“
Aargh! You will never be
safe, Thetan,” it said, fiery ichor dribbling from its mouth. “My
brothers will slay thee. They will send thy black soul to hell at
last.”

Holding the creature aloft, Theta grabbed
Dargus Dal’s hilt and pitched the Einheriar over the rail into the
fog. The thing wailed anew all the way to the water.

“
Not today,” said
Theta.

Theta had dislodged both daggers but dropped
them to the deck as the acidic ichor reached his gauntlets. The
polished steel smoked and began to melt on contact with the vile
fluid. Everything the creature’s blood or ichor had touched,
smoked, crackled, and burned.

Theta strode directly at
Claradon, stepping carefully due to the ice and the warped and
melted decking. Claradon’s eyes widened in fear at his approach,
though he did not move, in truth, he could not. He half expected
Theta to kill him then and there for his errant slash. Ob stood
frozen, bug-eyed, by his side.

“
Your Asgardian dagger,
quickly, give it to me.”

Claradon pulled Worfin Dal from its sheath
and handed it to Theta, his hand trembling.

Theta moved to the ladder, dagger in hand,
and looked down onto the scene below.

***

Dolan pulled a small object from his pocket
and flung it at the Einheriar on the main deck. The object hit the
wood decking and exploded in a blinding flash of light. The
creature let loose an anguished wail that pierced the hearts of
every man on board as the bright light washed over it. The flash of
Dolan’s magic quickly dimmed but didn’t go out. Bathed in the
bright light the creature took on an altogether different
aspect.

Its form was still
strangely blurred, but much more distinct than in the darkened
mist. The light revealed the Einheriar’s true shape—that of a man,
a warrior, though corrupted and distorted. Grayish white in color
from head to toe, save for its eyes which glowed a bright gold, its
features chiseled and stony. It wore armor of chain and leather.
Strapped to its hands were strange gauntlets, each with four wicked
claw-like blades. It raised an arm to shield its eyes from the
light but seemed disoriented and halted its advance.

Men moved in with torches
on all sides. The Einheriar careened from side to side avoiding the
fiery light. The light revealed that the deck planks along the
Einheriar’s trail were smoking and warped as if melted by its very
touch. Even now, steam and smoke rose from the wood about the
thing’s feet, which seemed to be sinking into the deck, hampering
its movement.

“
By the Shards of
Pythagorus, gek paipcm ficcg,” emoted Tanch. Nine balls of blue
flame erupted in succession from Tanch’s outstretched hand and sped
toward the Einheriar. One, then a second, and then a third struck
it in the back and exploded—each shredded its armor and tore gory
chunks from its body.

Dolan stepped forward and
fired one of Pipkorn’s Vanyar arrows into the Einheriar’s shoulder.
It did not pass through, but sunk into the warrior’s shoulder just
as any arrow should, and sent green ichor streaming down its torso.
Tanch’s other missiles hit the Einheriar and blasted it to its
knees. Dolan stepped closer, his jaw set, and put three more arrows
into the thing in rapid succession. The third entered the
Einheriar’s forehead at point blank range. It slumped to the side,
and then dropped to the deck, unmoving. The Einheriar’s body
collapsed and dissolved into a putrid ooze. In moments it was
naught but a bubbly, smoking stain upon the deck.

Theta peered down from the bridge deck,
dagger in hand.

The battle over, the deck was quiet again
for a few moments.

“
Wizardry,” yelled N’Paag
from the wheel, pointing down at Tanch. “And why did his arrows
work,” pointing at Dolan, “and not the others?”

“
Foul magic,” shouted a
crewman.

“
Devil’s work,” shouted
another.

The crewmen backed away from Tanch and Dolan
both. Accusing and fearful stares accosted them from all sides.
Even the soldiers of Malvegil, Lomion, and Eotrus, looked shocked
and stared.

“
You all know I’m a wizard
of the Tower of the Arcane,” said Tanch. “Did you fools think tower
mages have no power? Did you think all we could do was card
tricks?”

“
We’ll suffer no dark
magic on this ship,” shouted N’Paag.

Ob moved behind N’Paag, a
dagger ready for use.

“
Should I have stood by
and let them kill you, one by one?” shouted Tanch, his voice filled
with anger. “Fools.”

“
Put them off,” yelled one
sailor.

“
Let’s throw them over the
side,” barked Little Tug. “Let the Fens have them.”

“
They just saved your
behinds with their magic,” said Bertha Smallbutt, who knelt beside
her wounded captain. “Show some gratitude, not
stupidity.”

“
Maybe so, but they waited
until men were dead and the captain was grievous hurt,” said
N’Paag.

Ob placed the tip of his dagger against
N’Paag’s back. “Not another word or you’re dead,” he said
quietly.

“
No good comes from
magic,” said Little Tug. He grabbed Dolan about the collar, lifted
him effortlessly into the air with but one arm, and strode toward
the rail.

Artol’s iron grip locked on Tug’s shoulder
and spun all five hundred pounds of him around. “Perhaps you’d like
to try that with me,” he spat, meeting the giant’s sneer, eye to
eye.

Bertha rose from Slaayde’s side. “The
Captain says, leave them be. Any man that don’t, will answer to him
and to me.”

There was some grumbling and cursing, but
soon the men began to disperse.

“
Another time, tin can,”
said Tug, dropping Dolan to the deck. Dolan landed lightly on his
feet and looked not the least bit flustered.

“
Any time, Little Bug,”
said Artol with a big, fake smile.

“
Keep your mouth shut from
now on,” said Ob to N’Paag. “You’ll live longer.” Ob stepped back
and put his dagger away. He turned to Theta and Claradon. “Too bad
Slaayde stopped it so soon. Would’ve been interesting to see Artol
tangle with that giant.”

“
Why didn’t Dolan try to
break free?” said Claradon. “He just hung there, limp.”

“
The boy was scared
senseless,” said Ob. “Nothing more than that.”

“
No,” said Theta. “He was
deciding whether and when to kill the giant. He just hadn’t made up
his mind yet.”

“
Right,” said Ob, with a
nervous laugh. He took a swig from his flask before speaking again.
“I wanted to help with the creature, you know, but I didn’t expect
me axe could touch it.”

“
You could’ve helped by
watching our backs like I told you, gnome. If you had, it wouldn’t
have gotten behind me.”

Ob paled. “You’re right. I never even saw
where it came from. A rookie mistake and I’m no rookie.”

“
Next time, do as I
say.”

Ob bristled and puffed out
his chest. “Alright, Mr. Fancy Pants, I admitted I screwed up. But
you’re not the one in command here. Claradon is in charge of this
mission, not you, and don’t be forgetting it. It’s his orders I
follow, not yours, you stinking tin can.” The gnome didn’t wait for
any response. He stormed down the ladder to the main deck, cursing
under his breath.

Theta sat down on the
deck, his feet over the edge, still holding Worfin Dal in his left
hand. He took several deep breaths, and pulled ice from his
mustache with his right hand. The ice in his hair was melting.
Water dripped down his face, which was pale.