Legacy of the Defender (The Defender Series Book 1) (20 page)

I reached out with my mind for daemon presence.  Nothing was behind me.  Ahead of me, I felt nastiness telling me the big one survived.  I was actually happy about this because I wanted to carve Malnuras's name into his hide while it was still alive.  The icky chills pervaded my mind.  The desire to charge right in was strong, but I had to collect my thoughts while the battlefield settled.  Taking a moment to observe my surroundings would be wise.  My feet sunk into the ground and it felt sick from the death here.  The loss of life had been staggering on the human side.  From the news received before arriving, and how funny Mathias was acting, the reality hit me.  Part of God had died here under torture.

Rage wanted to rise.  I fought to turn my emotions into righteous fury to draw from its power.  My stomach dropped as if falling from a cliff.  The smoke and dust blew past me and drum beat like wings beat the air in front of me.  Something big was airborne.  The ground vibrated with each gust of wind.  As the air cleared, the daemon stood in front of me.  It was obviously hurt.

“Did you think it would be that easy?” a gurgled voice spoke.  “Now you will know why Father sent me to deal with you!”

My lips cracked a smile.  Finally, it was a one on one fight with a worthy opponent.  I caught myself, as that thought became words and passed my lips.  “I challenge you.” 

I had just issued a challenge to Lucifer's son by my guess. 

My peripheral vision worked overtime to watch for a flank by any of its minions.  Nothing moved.  I was alone.  Today the warrior would face his final test.  My swords pulsated with energy, and for the first time in my countless battles, that energy came from me.  Without intending to, I spoke.

"I am Tathlyn, Defender of the Earth,” I heard myself say.

The tips of my swords touched my forehead in a salute.  He mocked me with a gesture in return.

"
Amduscias, commander of legions, son of Lucifer."  His perfect English mocked me as he bowed.

It was time to make Lucifer childless. 

XV

Amduscias

Ferocity dominated the exchange of blows. 

This daemon prince,
Amduscias
, attempted to enact vengeance upon me.  Several moments had passed before I knew
it
was indeed a
he
, for at first glance it was not determinable.  It took interpreting a reference made in anger about a father punishing a son for me to know for sure
.
Sparks showered the area and the clash of steel created thunderous claps, releasing energy from our two weapons.  Eldridge fire crackled up and down his blade and created heat to such a degree that it would burn me if I got too near the sword.

My protections held.  Energy returned to me just moments before, when the rage had transformed into righteous fury.  Whatever diminished me had something to do with that amulet.  Smashing it was my best move…this pissed the daemon off even more.  I was sure he could be defeated until his dark rage boiled forth with such unholy saturation, that being in proximity made my bladder try to empty...and I did not feel fear the way other men did
. 

The thought that I might be in trouble arose.

The daemon was beyond angry.  Each strike gave me an image of a hammer striking the strongest crystal.  Small hairline fractures began to form and my shields were battered so badly that concern of failure set in.  Sword versus sword, I outclassed him, but his sheer strength wore me down bit by bit.  Eventually, my will to keep the energy flowing to my protections would diminish.

I was now on the defensive, working to keep him from striking my shield while planning my strategy.  The problem was I did not have a clue yet.  His rage should have been easy for me to use against him, but somehow it made him stronger and faster.  I kept looking for an opening but was having little success.  His attacks took too much of my focus.  Keeping this up would be the end, and in my mind, my edge eluded me.

Going toe to toe was fruitless.  The surrounding terrain became my answer.  Ducking and dodging into buildings
could bring me fractions of time to reposition myself before the walls or roofs came down.  The buildings had open areas in the center allowing the smoke from the fire pits to escape and allowed access to the roofs.  From there I could score some hits on my foe.  After a few strikes, I could leap through a hole to the roof, allowing me to strike at its head easier.  Problem with that strategy was clear.  Hidden daemons lurked above.  Going through an open hole was risky.

I tested my theory.  Racing into the central area of a building, the beast crashed through right behind me, destroying it in moments.  Its walls were too thin and too weak to keep the creature busy on the outside trying to get in.  The second structure proved even weaker as I raced to get out before it collapsed.

The third building was much bigger than the other two.  As I leapt up through the smoke exit in the ceiling and landed on the roof, I noticed very thick stones in places around the rooftop acting like buttresses.  My body fit behind one such stone in a crouch, hiding me perfectly. 

He came through the building swinging his sword upright like before and the roof disintegrated into tons of falling material, many large chunks landed where I would have been.  Just like I attempted to do with him, he tried to lull me into a predictable rhythm.  I felt the remaining section of the roof below my feet shake as if a train came through.  Debris blasted the area.  Stones the size of bricks exploded against the roof crenels.  A floor beam punched through right next to my head causing the stoned wall to crack.  The creature almost exited the building but turned first to look for me.  He was in place.  I leapt and swung both blades with everything that I had targeting his head.

The air cracked like a whip as my blades descended on him.  For a moment, it looked like I had a clear shot.  His pupils went wide as he tracked me flying through the air in a Kamikaze fashion.  Victory seemed eminent.  I felt the weapons’ charge stronger than ever.

My swords were a foot from his head when his sword came up parallel to the ground and deflected my blows right into his other hand.  Metal bit flesh and passed clean through.  His body turned to the left as I passed him on the right and fell down into the dust-filled area that had once been a building.  My feet touched uneven ground causing me to roll or risk breaking something.  He howled post-strike; I took a small piece of him in the exchange.  I heard the smallest finger from his left hand squish as it hit the ground follow by a small shower of daemonic ichor.

My other blade glanced off
his forearm plate with a shower of sparks, falling around me as I rolled.  The rush of wind was loud as his sword chased me to the ground, further crushing the debris of the building into smaller pieces that showered me.  I found my feet and was on the move looking for my next tactical stand.  Small fires started from cooking embers scattered about by the daemon prince’s reckless pursuit added smoke.

Impact came from behind. Blinding pain!  It was hard to run and not give him my back as a target.  I had to move fast which meant not defending other than weaving.  Something impacted my shield as I leapt over another pile of wall remnants.  He had closed the distance.  The force flipped me head long and I tucked and rolled landing hard on an intact wall, its angle leaning away from me, which caused my roll backwards toward the Prince, dropping me right as his feet.

A well-placed kick, most likely unintentional, took my wind away.  I felt ribs crack as the shield buckled.  I cried out.

“That will slow you down, little man!  It is only a matter of time before my sword feasts on your flesh!”

His statement worried me a bit.  I was air born and going through a wall and a window.  The wall caught me just enough to spin me head over heels causing my landing to be the kind that would make any gymnastics’ judge snicker for just a moment, even if they felt pity for the contestant lying there writhing in pain.  However, this was not a friendly competition.  The image of a panel of judges in my mind faded by the third bounce, and reminded me of the mortal danger hot on my heels.  Still wincing, I rolled across sharp rocks, feeling my knuckles lose skin with each revolution of my body.  My healing rune taxed my energy stores, as it must have been trying to re-knit my ribs while I moved…flesh wounds would have to wait.  Again, the giant sword hit the ground close to me, sparks and debris hit my face.  Fluid ignited from a broken clay jar.  A small fireball erupted right in the daemon’s face and flash burned my skin on my right arm as I rolled away from it.

Expecting to be ablaze, I sprung to my feet landing in a partial crouch, then dove over his blade as he pulled it free.  The flames enveloped his sword, fed by the flammable liquid.  Heat washed over me as I passed over it, landing somewhat gracefully and firmly.  Solid ground was not a guarantee anymore with buildings crumbling all around.  A spin placed me behind the blade with enough room for me to dive through his legs.  Thrusting both swords upwards, I pierced the flesh in his hamstring.  He roared as my blades sunk in a few inches.  Ichor flowed.  I twisted and withdrew, preparing for another strike when his left hand, although missing a pinky, backhanded me in the chest.  Stars filled my eyes.  My knees met the ground hard as he spun to face me with a downward strike that had my death written all over it.  I did not see it until the last second.  It took everything I had, and a lot that I did not, to parry his attack off to my right.  Even though it was just the tip of his sword, it found flesh, passing through several inches of my quadriceps.  Blood rushed out.    

I yelled. 

Fire ignited my blood stream, causing great pain.  I threw myself out of his reach, trying to suck it up.  My body landed several yards away with an unskilled roll taking me into a large stone building, but not one of brick and mortar.  Someone carved the entire building out of solid rock.  Amidst my distress, it was obvious as my gaze fell to my surroundings.  There were no seams from stones stacked up to form walls.  The stone bore no marks of its creation.  It was smooth.  I crawled past shelves lined with clay pots by the hundreds.  Now that the battering had stopped, what little energy my reserves had engaged my healing rune.

“You had better hurry, your leg is bad.”  The melodic tones whispered internally.

“I know.  You do not have to remind me.”

“The trail of blood is impressive.  Shall we boost your healing?” they inquired with a measure of serious now.

“Save your strength for hurting the monster.  The rune is engaged.”

“Your energy is very low, Tathlyn,” the lower voice said.

The ground shook and sparks flew behind me.  A quick glance and none too soon, revealed his large hand missing the pinky coming in the small doorway trying to grab me.  All I could do was fall out of his reach breaking several clay jars in the process.  The water felt good as it pooled around me before the fluid dynamics kicked in and dispersed it evenly on the floor.  I lay there wincing with each breath.  My ribs already felt better, but the excess damage overtaxed the rune’s ability to heal. 

I realized the daemon could not get at me.  Images of some comic monster fishing its hand into a small hole to get at its prey came to mind. It hurt to laugh. 
He was pissed.
  Occasionally the room shook.  Sparks erupted near the entrance where his sword and claws struck the entrance.  I was too weak to strike at him, but I had to keep him further engaged to give me time to heal.  His attention needed to be on me to keep him from desecrating Malnuras’s body further.  To think that a small fraction of God had been essentially “killed” still messed with my head.  Knowing the cause brought my focus back.  The fault may not be mine, but it was my burden to bear, nonetheless. 

Heaven needed his body back.

My blades whispered to each other in my head.  A sense of urgency flowed from them into my thoughts.  A tranquil image appeared…a favorite.  My teacher and I would to sit overlooking a valley and discuss many things.  Those times relaxed me.  In many ways, he was a father figure because he raised me the rest of the way.  Those moments lived fondly in my mind and soothed me.  The urgency, still present, urged me onward to complete my mission.  I pulled my injured leg in and sat in a meditative position...just outside of the daemon’s reach.  Full meditation would be impossible because I needed to occasionally hit his hand with a sword in order to hold his attention.  Its screams and roars of frustration outside only added to my sense of relief, for my plan was working.  It had to look like the fight was over, so each strike had less and less strength behind it.  It took some time, but I found my center

Daemonic laughter erupted when he realized after several moments that my strikes had no strength behind them.  That calm, soothing voice he tried to lull me with when I first saw him was gone.  His verbiage was now full of racial, human slurs; how he would have his way with my mother or had already and how I was his bastard child.  I began long, deep breaths, clearing my mind while occasionally but non-rhythmically hitting his hand to create the illusion that he had won and that I was giving up.  Eventually, the flat of the blade was all I gave him before finally stopping.  His hand retracted.

Silence. 

Like the calm of a hurricanes eye, the violent speech stopped.  My blades sang quietly in my head.  Their voices offset the negative energy radiating in from outside.  Inner peace descended on my mind.  I began to reflect on the battle as Malnuras had taught me.  At that moment, energy surged up from the ground and inward, boosting my healing rune
.
It flowed in and everywhere inside me.  Cursing began outside. 

"Are you dead yet, little man?  Do me the honor of crawling out so that I can enjoy your flesh!"  He droned on an on in different variations of the same concept. 

While he spoke, I felt restored and refreshed.  I had not a clue where the reserves came from when the voice came from my blades.  "We used our energy to restore you properly.  We will be weak for a little while and silent.  Use it wisely.”  As the sentence ended a disconnected feeling came and the sensation of being in tune lessened.

“I told you not to,” I said.

“There was no choice; you would never be able to gather energy with him near.  You need to default to our wisdom from time to time.  We may be here to serve you, but we also must provide you with council when needed.”  There was a long pause while I adjusted to their presence lessening.  They felt far away.

They were not kidding...I am on my own and it was time to move as soon as my healing finished.

In the center was a well with a wall around it to keep someone from falling in just as any water supply would have.  The roof was about thirty feet up and had an octagonal opening; showing evidence that water entered from there.  I glanced around and realized that the room acted like a cistern as well; water on the roof flowed down into collection points as well as down into the well.  Catching the rain was important, and it rained a fair amount.   

My ribs solidified, making breathing less painful.  The muscle around them began to repair.  The gash in my leg muscle closed completely.  I felt the flesh reknit itself.  I had the feeling of worms crawling through the tissue as the fibers found their attachment points and reconnected, even stronger than before.  As my strength returned, the energy in the room felt tainted.  My blades were not kidding.  Amduscias was death incarnate.  Only about a handful of moments had passed, maybe only ten seconds, when I felt the threat level outside increase and my senses tingle with danger.  I opened my eyes to see that wicked sword coming into the building through the doorway.