Dead Stars - Part Two (The Emaneska Series) (66 page)

There was a snarl from somewhere nearby. They had been spotted. Two daemons loped towards them across the snow. One was a muscular beast, half boar by the looks of his face, while the other was a slim, slender willow of a creature, all wings and oversized teeth. Modren and Inwick went to work like the professionals they were, laying down a storm of sparks and lightning to keep the daemons at bay. Spells were the only thing that seemed to truly work against them. Blades took forever to hack through their iron flesh, and even then it meant getting close. The bastards refused to die quickly, fighting to the bitter bone. Oh, how Modren prayed for more mages.

Thoooom!

The air behind them shook as Durnus’ spell flew from his hands. The Arkmage dashed forward, listening for its impact, watching the bright spark on the hill and praying for it to be snuffed. There was a booming crash as his spell collided with hers, fire meeting wind in an explosion of power. Blue flame curled around its edges. Durnus watched, catching his breath as the spark glowed brighter for a moment. Then, as the light faded, there she still was, untouched and still reaching for the sky. ‘Curse that bitch!’ he yelled.

Another daemon was coming for them, sauntering down the slopes. This one was a different sort. Modren recognised his gait, his wings, his grinning face. It was one of the three that had attacked Krauslung. Shivertread stepped forward, spinning his tail in a figure-of-eight like a whip.

‘No,’ Modren said, tapping him on his scales. ‘He’s mine.’

‘As you wish,’ bowed the dragon, turning instead to the other two. They were getting too close for comfort. Inwick and Shivertread forced them back, the dragon bathing one in fire, the mage bringing the smaller to its knees with a well-placed ice-bolt.

‘Keep them busy!’ Durnus ordered, taking in a deep breath. He spread his hands wide and fire sprang into life between them. Orbs of hot flame spun and melded into bigger spheres, building, building, ever-building into a colossal fireball.

Modren felt the heat of it on his back. His Book burned with it. He held out his sword at the approaching daemon. The hulking beast was now standing on the snow, not twelve paces from them. Even from there, he could smell its stink. ‘I know you,’ he said.

‘Lord. Master. Executioner. Take your pick, mortal,’ it chuckled.

‘You attacked our city.’

‘It will not be the last.’

‘How about I make it your last?’

The daemon didn’t answer. It was looking with interest at Durnus and his huge spell. Everyone ducked as it exploded from his arms and sailed to the summit of the hill, where it crashed once again against Samara’s storm. ‘Ah, Ruin,’ said the daemon.

Durnus’ head snapped around to face the sound of his name.

The daemon flicked its eyes to the sky above, and smiled some more. Modren kept his eyes firmly rooted on the daemon, picking out the spots he wanted to drive his sword into. Face. Ribs. Groin. He skipped the heart; he had realised early on that these creatures were devoid of such a thing.

‘It’s fortuitous that we should run into each other, Ruin,’ chatted the daemon. He twirled a claw. ‘Your father will be here momentarily. I imagine the two of you have lots to catch up on.’

Durnus tilted his head to the sky and squinted. A shiver, somewhere far above. That was all he needed. He spoke slowly and carefully. ‘Modren, call the others back. I think the time has come to beat a retreat to the sleds, as fast as we can.’

‘But…’

‘No, Modren, now!’

‘Right you are. Inwick! Shivertread! We’re leaving!’

‘So soon?’ the daemon called after them as they sprinted away, the dragon spraying fire in their wake. Durnus, his hand firmly clamped to Modren’s arm, had begun to sweat.

‘What’s going on, Durnus?’

‘Orion. He will be arriving very soon indeed. We do not want to be anywhere near him when he d…’

A chilling shout cut him off, ripping through the battle noise. It was a shout that nobody wanted to hear, at a time when they had enough to worry about with daemons and dragons and death, when they were sure in their knowledge that whatever happened, they were standing on solid ground.

‘The ice is cracking! The ice is cracking!’

Wide-eyed, Modren glanced over his shoulder. The ice was cracking indeed, and rapidly at that. A dark line had appeared in the snow directly behind them, and was getting bigger by the second. Even worse, the daemon from the hill was now running to vault it, fire streaming from his jaws, claws outstretched, wings flapping behind him, eyes firmly fixed on them.

‘Watch out!’ Modren yelled, throwing the Arkmage to the snow, fire already simmering in his hand. He needn’t have worried. The strange twists of battle were about to save him the trouble.

Nobody could have predicted a whale. Least of all Valefor.

The daemon pounded the snow with all his might. He could feel the fire in his lungs. In his peripheral vision he could see it dribbling from the corners of his mouth. His hands swung up and down like chopping axes, propelling him forward. He grinned wide as he saw Durnus pushed to the ground by the impetuous mage. Fool.
I will start with him
, Valefor thought, as he went to leap the crack in the ice, not even sparing a thought for the dark water bubbling up from below.
I will start with him, pulling each one of his fingers and toes off while Ruin lays in the snow, ready fo…

To those watching, the surprise was painfully obvious. Valefor’s hungry grin evaporated in a split-second as the ice to his left gave way to an enormous, shimmering whale, half-black, half white, and pink jaws open very wide indeed. The strangest thing was that there seemed to be a red and gold man clinging to its towering fin, holding on for dear life as the creature launched itself from the water and through the air.

Valefor squealed as the whale’s jaws clamped down on his neck, half severing his head in the first strike. The whale bore him down to the snow, through the ice, and into the water with a crash and a damp hiss. All that remained in their wake was the red-gold man rolling through the snow to safety.

Modren let his mouth hang wide open as he watched the man stand up, shake the water off, and then march straight towards him. Modren didn’t know whether to hug him or skewer him. Only the armour stopped him, that old familiar armour…

‘Farden!’ Modren cried. Durnus leapt up from the snow at the sound of his name.

‘Where?’ Durnus yelled.

‘Right here.’

Durnus followed the sound of the voice, reaching out with his steaming hands. He found the metal of Farden’s chest, and smiled. ‘You did it.’

Modren barged in, grabbing him by the shoulders, caring nothing for the armour. ‘Did you? Did you do it?’ he demanded.

Farden raised his visor, exposing a wet and bedraggled face, but a stone-cold honest face at that. ‘I did,’ he said, barely finishing his words before Modren clasped him tightly around the neck. He said nothing, but Farden knew.

All around them, they could hear the cracking of the ice and the booming of whales, the roaring of daemons and the screams of everything else. Farden slammed his visor shut. ‘I need a sword,’ he barked, holding out a hand. It was Inwick that pressed one into his palm. She was trying on a smile for size. It didn’t suit her, but at least she was trying. Farden nodded to her.

‘She’s summoned Orion, Farden. He is coming,’ Durnus pointed to the sky. Farden looked up through the smoke to see a bright orb glinting in the morning sky, getting bigger every second. They did not have long at all.

‘Stay behind me. Far behind me.’

Farden was a whirlwind. Fire sprang from the cracks in his armour as he waded into the smoke like a man who had never heard of death. Farden would have cackled at that. As he had said to Hel, he knew it better than most.

The first daemon he came across was a monstrous bastard. It was in the midst of flaying the skin from a band of helpless snowmads. Farden beat his sword against his breastplate to get its attention. He got it almost instantly, much to the daemon’s horror. The creature stumbled backwards as he saw the shining knight striding towards him, sword in one gauntlet, a ball of fire in the other. He could smell the armour, and something in it terrified him. He scrabbled to get away, but he didn’t get far. Farden hacked the muscles of his legs into ribbons, and then cut him open across the stomach. The daemon burbled and wailed as Farden marched on, leaving him for the others.

‘Godblood!’ went up the cry, as another two daemons spotted him. They backed away from him, roaring at the top of their voices to warn the others. Two giant wolves lunged forward in their stead, so big they took Farden’s breath away for a dark moment. But the armour had made him feel invincible. Whether he truly was or not, he could test that later.

The first wolf swiped a paw the size of a seat cushion at his head, catching a glancing blow across his helmet. The force made Farden stumble and he fell to the snow. The wolves dove upon him, jaws snapping at his limbs, trying to crack and pierce his armour. Farden fought back the urge to laugh after his initial panic faded. The sound of their fangs sliding uselessly off the metal was almost comical.

An old habit called to him, and he slammed his vambraces together with a joyous cry. A wall of magick punched outwards from his skin, and the wolves were sent flying. One landed in a nearby crack in the ice, and was quickly snatched into the water by something long and sleek. The other was seen to by Shivertread, who strangled it in his lithe coils.

So it went. Daemon to daemon, beast to beast, Farden went, slashing, hacking, chopping, burning, and unleashing every pent-up ounce of his long-dead magick. Fire pulsed from every crack and pore in his skin as if it were dying to escape. Farden could feel his Book burning white-hot on his back. It was like nothing he had ever felt, not in all the years he could remember being a mage. He loved every burning second of it.

North he strode. Towards the hill he knew his daughter stood on. He could still feel her magick washing over the battlefield like an angry sea. Behind and around him, sensing the momentary turn in the tide, the pitiful few survivors began to swarm and clump together. Pitiful few indeed, and they were battered and bloodied but grim-faced, every single one ready to see this business finished. They walked in the mage’s wake, pointing, cheering. Farden simply marched on, oblivious to all.

Another daemon dared to challenge him, a two-headed creature with long-flowing locks of black hair. Farden barely broke his pace as the daemon towered over him, swiping with her claws. Farden punched the air and sent her staggering with a shaft of lightning to her midriff. A sword followed quickly after, burying itself in her neck with a shiver of blue fire. Farden rode the beast to the ground as she toppled, and wrenched his sword free before she hit the ground. Farden grimaced. The bitch’s spine had split the blade down the middle.

‘Farden! Eyes to the sky!’

‘Shit!’ Farden cursed. Orion was falling fast now, a behemoth of fire and brimstone, hurtling towards earth. He could hear the roar over the crowd. The battle noise fell to a lull as every eye turned to watch the king of daemons fall. Both sides took a breath, and waited.

Farden broke into a jog. An idea had formed in his mind. A stupid, rash idea, but an idea nonetheless. A little inkling, a little gem of a chance. Could it work? Was he mad? Probably. Was he invincible? He had wanted to test it.
Not so soon!

Farden’s jog turned into a run. The star was plummeting faster now. The air was growing hot. The ground shuddered and cracked even more. Farden looked up and down, measuring where the star was going to hit.
The foot of the hill. Right on the main stage.

Farden’s run broken into a sprint. Daemons snarled as he passed. Farden flailed his sword at every one that dared try to grope or snag him. Severed claws and howls chased him across the snow. ‘Foot of the hill!’ he gasped.
Was he really going to do this?

A daemon on the hill was pointing at him and yelling something, its eyes wild pinpricks of urgent fire. A dragon roared as it swooped down to grab him. Farden threw a hand in the air and sparks flew. The dragon swerved away.