Magic, Myth & Majesty: 7 Fantasy Novels Page 16

  “I don’t care if his left buttcheek is worth a million gold; let’s toss this thing back in and be done with it.”

  Elisabeth frowned. “His butt isn’t worth anything. Hydra testicles, however, are worth a few hundred thousand gold each.” She brightened. “Let’s hope this one is a boy!”

  Once they had finished extracting the most valuable of the materials from the corpse of the hydra (including three testicles, to the delight of Elisabeth and Malpravus), and those that had been tossed into the flaming oil had been recovered and revived, the Alliance army moved back up the long tunnel and into the platform of the entryway once more. Casting a sidelong look at the door to Mortus’s chambers, Cyrus saw they were still sealed.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on here,” Elisabeth said. “I was told that defeating the enemies within both caves would get the attention of Mortus’s guards…”

  A loud noise filled the entryway and the enormous doors split and began to open, sweeping wide to reveal an army within. A moment of panic set in among the allies. “We need to face them outside!” Elisabeth shouted. “Retreat to the Fields of Paxis!”

  The Allied army broke and ran, retreating over the entry bridge and down the steps. Once outside, Elisabeth commanded once more, “Stop! Hold position here!” For the most part, her command was obeyed and they reformed at the bottom of the hill outside the Eusian Tower. A few adventurers continued beyond the rally point and up the hill, stopping once they reached the top.

  The first rank of the army of Mortus appeared in the doorway to the Eusian Tower; four rows of the horrific wendigos, followed by demons with red skin, bulging muscles and fearsome teeth. Pointed ears stood atop their heads, giving them all the appearance of a devil. There were fewer of them than there were wendigos, but each of the devils stood one and a half times the height of a human and was armed with a weapon.

  “The hell of it is,” Cyrus heard Andren say from somewhere behind him. “There are actually more of us than them.” He paused. “But I suspect they might pack a slightly nastier punch than most of us.”

  J’anda called out, “Those demon knights — I cannot mesmerize them; their will is too strong.”

  A few of the gray-skinned fiends halted their advance, bedazzled by the enchanters’ spells. The remaining wendigos broke ranks and charged, demon knights following behind.

  The first wave of foes hit their front line warriors hard. The sheer numbers forced every Alliance fighter and some of the spell casters into one-on-one combat. The wendigos were strong and vicious, creating a poor match for most of the allied combatants. Cyrus swung his sword with all his strength, dispatching two of the bloody creatures in a row. By the time he had killed the second wendigo, the battle had turned into a complete melee. A demon knight waded toward him, accidentally killing a wendigo on its way.

  Cyrus brought his sword up in time to block the first blow from the demon knight, which wielded a blade that looked like a massive meat cleaver. The strength of the demon knight’s strike chipped some of the steel from his sword where the blow impacted. Guess I’ll be needing a new sword soon, Cyrus thought. I’m sure Belkan will be pleased.

  He successfully dodged the next attack and drove his sword into the leg of the demon knight which elicited a grunt and a backhand slap that sent Cyrus reeling, dragging his sword out of the wound. A small geyser of blood shot from the hole in the demon knight’s leg, but the grotesque face of the creature displayed no reaction beyond a strange slurping sound as its tongue danced outside its lips.

  The demon knight jumped forward with no warning, knocking aside Cyrus’s sword and burying its teeth into the veins of his neck. Cy brought his sword down, burying it through the eye of the demon knight, which relinquished its biting grasp and fell over, dead.

  Cyrus felt himself fall, warm blood rushing through his fingers as he tried to staunch the bleeding. He looked up to see Niamh, fingers glowing with a small healing spell, and he felt a swell of vitality as she kept him alive until he felt the spell from a healer that completely mended his wound.

  Pushing back to his feet again, Cyrus ignored the agony from the now-healed wound as all battle around him stopped. A commotion came from atop the hill behind them. Something was thundering on the other side, and when it crested the ridge, Cyrus’s jaw dropped in shock.

  It was the bones of a dragon, but not just any dragon. The crests and gnarls of the skeleton, the jutting spikes and fearsome teeth, left no doubt which dragon the skeleton belonged to. Kalam, Cy thought in astonishment. Shit. Shooting a searing glare at those around him, he yelled, “Who helped Terian resurrect that thing?”

  Vaste shouted over the crowd. “It’s not resurrected. Kalam must be on his merry way to the afterlife or else he got co-opted by Mortus to defend this Realm. It’s probably his penance.”

  A rumbling came from the skeletal jaw of the dragon’s bones. A hot rush shot through Cyrus, flushing his face and spurring him into action. A demon knight in front of him had turned its back to see the events unfolding on the hilltop. Behind the demon knight, Tolada stooped down to pick up the hammer that he had dropped in shock at the sight of Kalam.

  With two long strides, Cyrus used the dwarf as a step to launch himself through the air and bury his sword in the neck of the unsuspecting demon knight. As it fell, Cy pulled the sword as roughly as he could, decapitating the demon, and dropping the head to the ground. He reached down to retrieve it and ran toward the base of the hill.

  The battle had resumed, wendigos and demon knights hacking at the allied army. Shuffling his way through the fight, stabbing wendigos and knights as he passed, Cyrus finally broke through the battle and climbed to an elevated position on the hill. From the height it afforded him, the warrior could see J’anda working to mesmerize the wendigos. “J’anda!” Cyrus yelled. “Can you charm the wendigos and use them to battle for us?”

  The dark elf did not respond for a moment, eyes closed, but then nodded.

  “Do it!” Cyrus shouted. The dragon corpse lingered at the top of the hill, cutting off any chance of retreat for the Alliance army. Cy let loose a bellowing warcry that caught the attention of everyone, even the fiends. Thrusting the head of the demon knight into the air above him, Cyrus taunted them. “You over-bulked, under-brained servants of Mortus don’t even have the stones to take on a real threat — you’re content to wade in among spell casters and rangers who can’t give you a taste of real combat — COWARDS!”

  Without waiting for reply, Cyrus threw the head at the nearest demon knight, only a few paces away. It caught the head and stared at it for a brief moment, shocked. Cyrus slammed into the demon full force on a downhill charge — his sword pierced it and he jammed the edge of his right vambrace into the mouth of the knight, breaking its lower teeth and cutting open its lip. A squeal of outrage filled the air as it attempted to push the warrior away. Cyrus gripped tighter, bringing his sword down again and again. His final blow penetrated the heart of the demon knight, ending its resistance.

  Howls of outrage came from the forces of Death’s Realm. Cy ran back up the hill. His speed and quick action by two of J’anda’s charmed wendigos were the only thing that saved the warrior from being hauled down by the entire army of Mortus, now solely focused on him and following him up the hill.

  Cyrus could see a faint light in the bone-dragon’s eye sockets as it thundered down the hill toward him. How the hell do I fight a pile of bones? he wondered. And a battalion of these damned demon knights at the same time? The dragon’s enchanted… and even if it’s a magical creature, it can take damage…

  The dragon’s skeleton let out a hiss as he approached. Its head swung down, jaws open and extended. A rattling voice could be heard: “I am Kalam, defender of Mortus, the God of Death.”

  Cyrus grunted as he ducked the dragon’s first attack. “I am Cyrus, warrior of Sanctuary. I piss on you and your god!” Bringing his sword around, he struck as hard as he could at the bone of the dragon’s front right ankle. A sm
all crack appeared in the bone. He ran under the dragon, beneath where the belly would have been, and rattled his sword along every rib until he reached the tail, laughing all the way.

  Dodging from behind the back leg he turned, and with a savage grin raised his hands above his head for a double-handed swing of his sword. He landed the strikes on the cartilage midway down the skeleton’s tail, and severed it at the halfway point. “I killed you yesterday,” he smirked at Kalam. “Today I’m going to dismember you.”

  Five demon knights crested the hill, a small cluster of wendigos close behind. Somewhere down the hill was the Allied army. The dragon’s skeletal remains now had no tail — but it still moved around to face him. Cy didn’t wait to be within biting distance — he charged back under the dragon, and took aim at the same ankle he’d already cracked, landing another crushing blow in the same spot, widening the crack, then moved as the dragon repositioned and landed another and another until the crack was large enough that he could jam his sword into it.

  There was no howl, no outrage, no sign that the dragon’s remains even felt the damage. Rather than chase the bone dragon, he grasped at the knee joint and held on while the undead monster thrashed about. Using the blade of his sword as a pry bar, he wedged it into the fracture he’d made in the ankle and applied all his weight to the hilt until—

  CRACK!

  Kalam’s foot broke loose and the bucking, heaving skeleton wobbled as it landed on its shin bone, losing its balance and toppling down the hill toward the tower. Cyrus rolled clear as it came crashing down, tons of bones onto the ascending demon knights — at least eight of which were smashed immediately, along with more than a few wendigos. He saw a gray-skinned torso fly through the air and land in the bony debris. With only a few exceptions, the allies escaped harm.

  Wasting no time, Cyrus charged into the wreckage, ignoring his arriving Allies and hacking at the rear knee joint of Kalam, who was attempting to rise. He was joined by Orion and Tolada, surprisingly, and they snapped the leg free and moved on to the next. The third was removed with a bit more effort, leaving the skeleton of Kalam thrashing.

  Cyrus scaled the dragon rib by rib as it jerked to get upright but couldn’t. Moving with care in case it began to roll over and turn him into mush, he reached the neck, flailing in the air. He wrapped his legs around the base of the neck, and brought his sword down again and again on the vertebrae until finally it gave a sickening crack and splintered. One more massive blow broke it into slivers and dust, and sent him, along with the dragon’s neck and skull, crashing to the ground below, where he heard a great many cracking bones, a few of which were his own.

  Cyrus jumped to his feet as soon as the healer’s spell hit him and charged at the nearest demon knight, which was already on its knees, and finished it. The wendigos that weren’t charmed were now falling, one by one to mesmerize and to death at the hands of the allies. The last demon knight was brought down by a stunning blow from Cass that cut it in half at the waist. They finished killing the wendigos and within an hour the Realm of Death was silent but for the cheers of the Alliance army.

  22

  The Alliance members waited in the Fields of Paxis while the officers of the Alliance split the treasures in Mortus’s chambers among themselves. After a half hour, Elisabeth stormed down the steps with something in her hand. Her eyes were narrowed and every step exuded irritation. She stopped in front of Cyrus and paused for a moment before she spoke, composing herself. “You must have really wanted this pommel,” she said. “I’ve never seen you ask for anything from an excursion before.”

  She opened her hand to reveal a circular piece of metal with the carving of a skull at its center. “I do,” he said, voice desirous.

  She handed it to him with care, then crossed her arms. “I didn’t expect us to have to kill the same dragon two days in a row. You really saved things from getting ugly.” She paused. “Uglier than they’re getting among the Alliance officers right now, anyway.”

  He pulled his gaze away from the Death’s Head. “Doesn’t look like you had much fun in there.”

  She sighed. “We’re not. When I planned this, there were a few things that we swore we weren’t going to do. Foremost among them was not stealing Letum.”

  Cyrus looked at her with a blank expression. “Letum?”

  She stared past him, her mind on something else. “Mortus’s Staff of Death. It’s supposed to be on a pedestal in there, protected by enchantments, but it’s not.” She shifted her gaze to him. “I guess it’s lucky that it’s not, because your pommel would have been under the protection of the enchantments as well.”

  “Lucky for me, I guess.” He shrugged. “Never heard of this Letum. Maybe Mortus took it with him when he left?”

  She waved her hand. “You think he dissolved the barrier he set up to protect his most treasured possessions before he left, when he knows that every time he leaves his Realm gets ransacked? I doubt it, but it doesn’t matter. It’s causing quite a stir among the other officers, though; quite a few accusations flying around—”

  “Elisabeth!” Cass’s voice drifted down to them as he descended the steps, Erith beside him. “We’re leaving.”

  “Did you get everything resolved?” She looked up at the warrior in grey, face expectant.

  “I’ve resolved not to punch Tolada in his aggravating face, but that’s about it.” Cass pointed back up the steps. “We can argue until Mortus comes back, no one’s going to confess to taking Letum and we’re not going to search everyone here to figure out if they’ve got it. Especially,” he gritted his teeth, “since there are no protective barriers around the pedestal.”

  “Couldn’t someone have broken through the barrier?” Cy looked at them, face blank.

  Erith laughed. “Through a barrier erected by a god? Unlikely.”

  Whatever else might have been said was halted by Malpravus, gliding down the steps with the officers of Goliath and Sanctuary trailing behind. Niamh’s face was suffused with rage, Curatio’s eyebrows were arched in irritation, and Orion looked annoyed.

  “I would call that a successful endeavor,” Malpravus said, coming to a halt beside Cyrus. “Once again, your bravery has been instrumental in our victory.” The necromancer’s eyes drifted to Cy’s sword and armor. “I can only imagine what you’d be capable of if you were wearing the armor and wielding a sword of the power Goliath provides to our warriors.” He leaned in close to Cyrus’s ear. “You should imagine that as well.” Leaning back, he grinned at the warrior. “Let us away, my friends.” He and his entourage swept down the stairs.

  The entire Alliance army teleported out of the Realm of Death moments later, each to their respective guildhalls. Cyrus found himself back in the lounge at Sanctuary, sitting alone, mulling over what he’d heard.

  An armored figure eased into the chair across from him, jolting him out of his reverie. “I heard there was a ruckus in Death’s Realm today,” Terian said.

  “You mean among the officers?” Cyrus looked at him.

  “No, I mean with the remains of a dragon that we killed yesterday coming back to take another swipe at you.” Terian’s eyebrow raised. “How did you hear about the Alliance officers getting into an argument?”

  “Gossip.”

  “Ah.” The dark elf nodded. “So, you got your pommel?”

  Cyrus’s jaw dropped. “How did you know about my sword? Andren was the only one I told!”

  Terian shrugged. “When he drinks too much, he talks too much.” The dark knight paused. “Which is pretty constant, come to think of it.” He smiled. “Don’t be paranoid. You can tell your guildmates about things you’re working on. This is an honorable group; they’re not going to steal something from you. They might even help.”

  Cy stroked his chin. “I’ll need their help as I get closer to putting it together.” He paused for a moment. “Terian, have you heard of Ferocis?” Terian shrugged. “You know, the Warblade of Bellarum?”

  Terian frowned. “H
ow did you know about it? Did Alaric tell you?”

  Cyrus looked at him in confusion, but before he could ask another question, shouts interrupted them from behind them. They sprang to their feet and entered the foyer to find a crowd gathered; raised voices reached their ears as they made their way toward the center of the disturbance. Cyrus bumped into Nyad, and when she turned to him there were tears streaking down her face.

  “What’s happening?” Cy asked her, Terian at his shoulder.

  She blinked as she looked past Cyrus to Terian. “Brevis ambushed Selene again. He called her selfish and when Orion stepped up to defend her he told him the only thing more useless than a selfish healer is a General that won’t lead. Please, stop it!” She focused on Terian. “You’re an officer. Please, you have to stop this!” Her face was flushed, and the tears were flowing freely.

  “You didn’t even take command when the invasion force was ambushed in Death’s Realm! Cyrus had to win the battle because you don’t even have the guts to marshal us in an emergency—” Brevis ranted, but was suddenly cut off.

  “SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!” Orion exploded. “What do you even know about leadership, you pointless hole?”

  Cy turned to Terian, “You have to stop them.”

  Terian folded his arms. “I don’t think I do.”

  Cyrus was stunned, blinking at him in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? You’re an officer. You have to intervene in this: it’s a dispute between guildmates!” He kept his voice low enough so that Terian was the only one that could hear.

  “No, Cy.” Terian shook his head. “He’s not saying anything that’s untrue. He’s not saying it in a nice way, but I don’t think I should stop the truth from being spoken.”

  Brevis’s voice drowned out any further comment at that point. “—know more about leadership than you do at this point, I’d wager. Not that it would take much. Larana would make a better officer at this point than you do, and she never says a word!”