Sword of Light (36 page)

“What do you seek, demon?”  Jonas asked, planting his staff.  “I am a servant of the One, so you have nothing I want.”

The demon laughed, the sound chilling.  “Why, I want your life, of course.  I was sent to see if the stories were true about your power, to test it for myself.”

“You may find that to be a fatal error, demon.”  Jonas stated resolutely.

“Bravely said, mortal, but foolish.”  The demon taunted.  “I am Helvan.  You may have heard of me.”

Jonas stiffened, recalling the name from the Guardian’s tale.  This was one of the most powerful demons that came to this world.  Despite that fact, Jonas knew that he had no choice but to fight.

“However much you think of yourself, demon, your power is nothing compared to the might of the One.”  Jonas said, gathering his strength.  His body shone brightly as he felt his power surge, then released it in enormous bolt of clerics’ fire.

The demon laughed as it moved, its power deflecting Jonas’ attack.  It countered, dark fire streaking for Jonas.  He blocked it, but was staggered by the power.  He attacked again, this time his fire catching the demon, hitting it squarely.  The demon took a couple of steps back, its form steaming.

“You do have some might, cleric, but it will do you no good in the end.”  Helvan said, moving and attacking.

The chamber shook from the explosions of powerful magic, the sounds echoing loudly, the light blinding, as the two fought.  Jonas tried to pull in more power as he and the demon circled each other.  He deflected the demon’s attacks as he could, but the demon’s fire was penetrating his protections and burning his skin.  His own attacks were having some effect, but not enough to overcome the demon.

As Jonas deflected an attack and was knocked slightly off balance, the demon charged, closing the distance between them.  Before Jonas could react, the demon seized him by his shoulders, its claws piercing his body while its power burned his flesh.  Jonas let out a cry as agony blossomed from the demon’s grip and he tasted blood.

“See, mortal, your vaunted power means naught in the end.”  The demon said, a smile on its lips, as it began to pull, trying to rip Jonas in half.

Jonas screamed from the pain.  He desperately focused his magic at the end of his staff and, with his remaining strength, drove it up into the demon’s chin.  The demon’s power resisted for a moment, but then, with a searing light and massive noise, the magics exploded, blasting Jonas free from its grip.

Jonas staggered back to his feet, his mouth full of blood, feeling more blood running down his body from the wounds the demon inflicted.  Just holding his power would slow the damage, but he could not heal himself.

He looked for his enemy.  The demon was writhing on the ground, its lower jaw gone and dark blood flowing from the wound.  Jonas launched another blast at it, but its dark power absorbed the attack.  Jonas saw that it was trying to rise.  Knowing his best chance was to keep it down, he lurched over and threw himself on top of the demon.

He drove his staff across the demon’s throat, putting all of his weight against it as he strove to overcome its power.  The demon thrashed beneath him, and then its claws found him again, driving into his chest.  Jonas cried out again as the claws worked their way deeper.  Retaining his power by a thread, he tried to finish the demon, his staff shining brightly as he attempted to drive his magic past its power, but it was still too strong.  The demon began to push him off.

Despairing, his strength weakening, he cried out in his mind. 
Help me!

Suddenly, he felt a new strength surge though him, his staff blazed brightly, the golden light turning white.  The demon let out a gurgled scream from its ruined mouth as the new power burned into it.  With a brilliant flare, the power tore through the demon.  It exploded into ash, the blast flinging Jonas away.  He slammed into the nearby wall, losing his grip on his staff, and fell forward.

His ears ringing and vision blurry, he tried to rise, but could not.  He felt his wounds pulsing blood.  He needed his might to slow the damage.  His mind foggy with pain, he tried but could not call up his power.  He could just make out his staff lying on the floor close to him. 
Maybe with the staff. 
He thought weakly as he began to crawl forward.  He only made it a few inches when his strength gave out and he collapsed to the floor, his lifeblood pooling around him.

…

Jonas drifted in a peaceful darkness, his pain forgotten.  He remembered everything that had happened, though it seemed to come from a great distance.  As he drifted, he felt contentment in the knowledge that he had defeated the demon.

He knew instinctively that he was dying.  The thought did not trouble him, as he knew that he was going to see his beloved Marlis again.

Out of the darkness in which he drifted, a light appeared.  In that light, a figure stood.  Jonas heard it call out to him.

“You have been a good and faithful servant, my child.”  The figure said, its voice washing over him with warmth and love.  “Know that I am pleased with you, but your time is not yet done.”

Suddenly, Jonas felt himself back in his body, his awareness returning as well as the pain of his injuries.  He felt his body shift, turn over onto his back, only to rise off of the ground.  His staff was on his chest and he felt movement.

“Hold on, Jonas.”  He heard Norlan’s voice say to him.  “Stay with us.  I have you.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
O
NE

With the rising sun chasing away the chill of the morning, Dominic and his party broke camp and rode towards Parshalthia.  The day before, they had found a small hill with a series of jagged rocks at its peak that provided cover and concealment while enabling them to observe any approaching threat.  Despite those protections, they had kept a strong watch, but there had been no further contact with the demons or their followers.

Dominic had Moshanna take the lead today, knowing that he was the best suited to guide them, given his history.  Moshanna, his dark face serious as he watched the surrounding land, was riding a few feet ahead.  He directed them back to the trading route, turning south again.  They continued for almost an hour when they came upon an ancient road, the outline of the battered and weathered paving stones just visible beneath the thin layer of red dirt that covered them.  The road led into the hills on the left, winding its way east.

“This is the way to Parshalthia.”  Moshanna announced to the group.  “I have been told that the road leads directly to the ruins.  We must stay alert; few have ever returned from those ruins.”  He looked over at the soldiers, gesturing towards the clerics.  “Remember that the clerics must be protected at all costs.  If the ruins are controlled by the demons, they will be our only defense.  They will ride in the middle of the formation, surrounded by the rest of us.”

He studied Stonebuilder on the water wagon, and then shook his head.  “We will leave the water wagon behind.  Speed will be our ally in this.  If we need to retreat quickly, the wagon will slow us down.”

“We need the water, Moshanna.”  Welsen objected.  “If we are unable to refill our skins, then we could have casualties from thirst or the heat.”

“I understand, Brother; we will pack extra skins with us.”  Moshanna responded.  “The ruins are only about half a day’s ride from here.  Between the water we carry and healing, if necessary, we should be able to last for at least two days.”  He paused, thinking.  “Also, I am certain that, if what we seek is there, we will have to fight to take it.  The wagon is the only water we have to make it back to Far Southern.  If we lose it in combat, then we will likely not make it back, even if we are victorious.”

“I see your point, Moshanna.”  Welsen said, nodding his head.  “Forgive my interruption.”

After they had filled all of the waterskins, Stonebuilder and two soldiers moved the wagon behind some cover, hiding it as well as possible and returned.  After Moshanna was satisfied, he gave the signal to continue on.

Despite its age, the road was in surprisingly good shape, allowing them to travel quickly.  It cut through the harsh terrain, lonely and forbidding.  The hills bordering the road became impassable, the rocks littering the hillsides rearing higher, their jagged edges acting as barriers.  The canyons between the hills were deep and shadowy, the sound of their passing echoing down their paths, adding to the sense of foreboding.

They were approaching a turn in the road, with a large canyon opening off to the right, when a woman’s pitiful scream sounded from the canyon.  Startled, they halted at the sound, listening.  Another cry echoed off the canyons walls, following the first.

“What are we going to do?”  Taric asked, his face tight with worry.  “We should help her.  She may be hurt or dying.”

“We do not know what we will face if we head down that canyon, Brother.”  Stonebuilder stated.  “It could be a trap, with the woman as a lure.”

The other soldiers and clerics turned to Dominic, looking for a decision.  He was loath to leave any woman in distress, but he had to weigh that against their mission.  He considered it for a moment and decided.

“I will take Moshanna and Brother Taric to investigate.”  Dominic said.  “We will ride out for ten minutes.  If we do not find anything in that time, we will return.  If we do not return in thirty minutes, continue on.  If we can, we will catch up; if not, then we are already gone.”

“I should come with you.”  Halana said, looking over at Taric.  “You may need another cleric.”

Dominic shook his head.  “The main group needs the clerics’ protection more.”  He gave her a slight smile.  “I will keep him as safe as possible, Sister.”  She nodded while Taric blushed.

“Let’s do this, so we can continue on.”  Dominic said, drawing his sword and turning Shadow towards the canyon.  Moshanna and Taric were right behind him as he rode into the shadows of the canyon.

Another scream sounded, fainter than the last.  Dominic urged Shadow on, picking up speed while he surveyed their path.  The sound of their horses echoed off the narrow canyon walls, which towered above them, gray and red colored rocks jutting out from the walls, like thorns on a vine.

The blazing sun washed out the land in front of them for a moment as they came out of the canyon after a few minutes ride.  The canyon opened up and gave way to a series of rolling hills.  On the top of a nearby hill, Dominic saw several posts rising out of the ground, obviously man-made.  Near the closest posts, he saw several men, dressed in short tunics and leather sandals, their chests covered with wooden armor, pale in color, each holding a long wooden spear.  They were tying off the coarse ropes that bound a woman to the post, when one of the men noticed Dominic and his companions.

“Wild men.”  Moshanna stated.

Dominic nodded, then charged Shadow at the group.  Two of the Wild men threw their spears at Dominic as he rode at them.  He moved Shadow slightly, dodging the throws, and then he was on them.  He slashed to his right, coming back over to his left, the Wild men falling as he rode past.  Wheeling Shadow, he prepared for another charge when he saw Moshanna, off his horse, moving with the grace of a dancer amongst the remaining Wild men, his sword spinning, the men going down around him.  Before Dominic could return to him, Moshanna, his sword a blur, killed the last Wild man.

Dominic rode over to the woman, hanging limply from her restraints.  He dismounted and approached her.  Gently, he reached out and, putting his hand under her chin, lifted her head.

She was young, maybe in her twenties, her bronze face pretty, with short dark hair.  She was slimly built, wearing a short linen dress and leather sandals.  He was taken aback by the series of highly decorative tattoos that were on her cheeks and around her eyes.

Her eyes were closed, but opened at his touch.  Her eyes, full of fear, were a striking green color.  She struggled against his grip; a series of low moans escaping her lips as she struggled to break free.

“Easy, girl.”  Dominic said gently, releasing her chin.  “We will not hurt you.  Do you understand me?”

The woman stopped her useless struggling and looked up at Dominic, eyes still fearful.  “I understand you, Northman.”

“Do not try to flee; I have questions for you.”  Dominic said as he drew his dagger.  The woman’s eyes grew wide until Dominic reached behind her and cut away her bonds.  Once she was released, she sank to the ground, shaking.

Dominic motioned for Taric to come over.  Taric knelt in front of the woman, reaching out to take her head in his hands.  She flinched, pulling back.

“He is a cleric, girl.  He will not harm you.”  Dominic said.  The woman nodded and allowed Taric to touch her and heal her injuries.

Once she was healed, Dominic squatted down in front of her.  “How did you come to be here?  What were those men doing?”

“I was to be a sacrifice to appease the hill gods, to allow for safe passage.”  She said softly, staring at her hands.

“Hill gods?”  Dominic asked.

“The gods that rule this area.”  She replied.  “They command dark fire and steal men’s spirits.”

Demons.
  Dominic thought.  “Why were you chosen?”

“Women are often chosen, Northman.”  She responded, shivering.  “It is said that the gods use them as men do.”

Dominic’s face tightened, his fists clenching.  He had heard rumors of women being taken, but he assumed it was for the half-men.  He saw a look of shock on Taric’s face, his eyes disbelieving.

“You are free now.”  Dominic said, rising.  “You can go where you will.”

“Wait, Northman.”  The woman said, rising as well.  “I wish to give you something for your help.”

“Nothing is needed, girl.”  Dominic said.

“Please allow me.”  She said, holding out her hand.  “May I see your hand?”

Confused, Dominic held out his hand.  She took it in hers, holding it firmly.  Suddenly, a faint green light shone around her.  Her eyes opened wide and she gasped.  She released his hand and took a step back, her hand on her head.