The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) (45 page)

And it was not concerned with wild stone or magical radiance. All it wanted was blood and destruction and Lethos was its conduit to such pleasures.

"Give yourself over to me." Its deep voice echoed through Lethos's mind, or what was left of it. He had no words or thoughts, just feelings that were a blaze of confusion.

"I will save you from death. You will live to have revenge. This will please us both."

Lethos resisted. Better death than life as the slave of a demon. If he could not spare the world from the Tsal, he could at least spare it from the demon he carried. His death would mean Grimwold's as well. But perhaps Valda was right. His powers were inherently evil, even if not used as such, and in time only corruption could follow. Nothing would be able to stop him.

Death for both of them would spare the world at least one disaster. Humanity would have to deal with the Tsal on their own.

"No," the bull voice roared. "I ask only to spare your life. I would obey you as a slave does its master. You have seen that I already do."

Lethos's thoughts were fading beneath the agony, and the white light grew fainter. The roar in his ears began to echo. He was leaving this world for the next, slipping from his cursed body and ending a life of frustration and madness.

"You condemn the world with your selfishness." The deep voice was but an echo. "I will endure, little man, and I will return. But your part was meant for a greater destiny, and you have thrown it aside. Such a fool."

"Help me, then." Lethos either spoke the words or thought them. He did not know. "I don't want to die. Do what you must."

The white masking his vision melted like snow, revealing gray clouds above. The pain still wracked his body but felt manageable, like stretching out a cramped muscle and finding relief. The pounding in his ears softened and he was aware of a blood-freezing roar.

It was his own. He now hulked above the wild stone in its strange bronze clam-shell casing. The pulsing yellow made his own eyes throb to look at, but he felt vibrant and strong. He whirled to face Avulash, who had backed away with his violet sword glowing bright.

Lethos roared at him, knowing how the blade had hurt him before. Avulash stumbled back against the crenellations as Lethos placed one giant hoof before him.

This was different. He was bigger than ever before. He felt stronger--and meaner. It was not enough to kill Avulash, he wanted to rend him into bits and chew each morsel of flesh. He wanted to cover himself with the blood of every living thing on this island then smash the world into nothingness.

As the massive Minotaur shape lumbered forward, the part that was still Lethos wondered how the tower had not collapsed beneath his weight. This Minotaur shape was the largest yet, and from the sheer power filling him he guessed he could tear the entire tower up if he desired.

"You beast," Avulash shouted. He sheathed his sword. Lethos intuitively understood that the demon had boosted his resistance to such magic now. Yet even without his weapon Avulash showed nothing but contempt.

"I am the captain of a white ark," he shouted. "I am not the weaklings my brothers were. I am the greatest of my kind. I found the way through the mists. You cannot defeat me!"

"Away with you, little fly." The rumbling, demonic voice that spilled out of Lethos's mouth shocked him. He had never before uttered better than a grunt in this form. Yet these were not his words. He existed somewhere in a corner of this demon's mind. If he had any control over it, he did not feel it. He only hoped the demon didn't realize this, or perhaps it did. The Minotaur raised a massive fist of glossy black fur and hammered Avulash.

Though his fist was bigger than Avulash himself, the Tsal caught it with both hands and stopped it. He braced against the wall with his feet and shoved back.

The demon laughed as its hand swung away.

"You will see the might of the Tsal." Avulash reached a hand toward the wild stone. "You think you have seen a dragon before? That was a mockery."

Avulash transformed so fast it was as if he had been blown from the tower and replaced with something else.

A dragon. It was covered in glittering black scales over a serpentine body. Hateful yellow eyes glared out from what seemed a shape of pure darkness.

The creature now matched Lethos for size, until it unfurled its wings. The span of those leathery wings was enough to cast Lethos into shadow.

Even the demon trembled before the majesty of the dragon. Lethos felt a stab of doubt in the demon's rage.

Avulash, if it was still him, reared back on hind legs and pulled his head back. His massive jaws fell open to reveal teeth like sabers. Yet more fearful than the teeth was the distortion of heat that rippled the air before its open jaws.

Then the world turned to fire.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Syrus's hands turned to ice when Valda charged into the courtyard. Scores of squat, muscular slaves with lost eyes and red and black striped flesh stared up at the tower. They recoiled from the screams that echoed down. At first none of them noticed Valda, though she loomed over them with her golden hair flying behind as she ran.

Then one whirled on her and gave a high-pitched squeal.

That galvanized Syrus into action. After all he had endured, he had the strength of sick child. He had not even thought to take a weapon, seeing how ineffectual common blades were against the Tsal. Now he was hurtling after the space Valda had made through the Tsal slaves as they began to notice her.

Yet Valda only held her small dagger high and shook her hair away from her face. The first slave moaned as if in agony and backed away. The small, beady eyes of others nearby widened and they pitched back to give her space. Syrus's burst faltered and he too stopped in surprise.

The slaves of the courtyard converged on them, even as the screams and roars from the top of the tower grew more intense. They had only eyes for what had burst into their midst. When Valda turned to Syrus, he saw her grim determination but nothing more.

"You know me now," she shouted over their heads. "Do not doubt any longer. I am your queen, the last descendant of High King Eldegris. Your false masters will soon be finished, and you will know freedom at last. Now step aside for your queen. If you cannot aid me, then do not hinder me."

Syrus stood dumbfounded. A gibbering panic swept the crowd of slaves, and they pulled back from her, watching her either in awe or turning aside in shame. The way to the tower was cleared. From high above a deep voice rumbled indistinct words that made Syrus's heart quicken with terror. Valda's satisfied smile fell, and she started for the tower. The slaves in her way gasped and crashed into their friends as they tried to avoid her.

"These used to be the people of Norddalr," Syrus said as he jogged behind her. "They still remember you, remember their old lives. How horrible!"

They entered the cool darkness of the main fortress as something high above shook the tower. Valda jumped onto the first stair, her voice breathless as she answered. "I remember how some of the slaves looked at me when Avulash took me captive. These were my father's subjects, or his warriors. Not like the other slaves that attacked me on their ark."

"How did you know they would obey?" They were halfway up the winding stairs when a mighty roar shook the rock walls and sent dust raining down on them.

"Just a feeling. What other choice did we have?"

At the top of the stairs was the door that exited to the tower rooftop. Syrus had ran up the stairs in a blur, passing emptied guard rooms and barracks without ever seeing what was inside. The door was of old blackened wood with dull iron nails. A time-worn metal ring hung from it and Valda reached her hand to grab it.

Fire licked the outside of the door and spilled through the cracks between the planks. Valda leapt back with a girlish shriek unfitting to the bold warrior image she had cultivated. Syrus was little better, screaming in surprise as he snatched her back.

"By all the gods, what is happening out there?" Valda leaned back in Syrus's arm, her body trembling.

"The Tsal can use their blood magic to breathe fire. One tried it on me while I was trapped in Tsaldalr. I was lucky to avoid it." Valda shot forward again, reaching for the door, but Syrus grabbed her back. "Wait. They can do it more than once."

"There's no time to wait." She yanked the door open on a scene that defied explanation.

The tower was tall and wide, a massive construct that seemed capable of holding an army at attention. Yet now it seemed crowded and small with the two gargantuan beasts wrestling atop it.

Lethos's Minotaur form was easily three times as large as it had ever been, and was engulfed in flames. Massive curled horns spread as wide as a raiding ship, their tips as sharp as eagle talons. These were plunging easily into the flesh of an equally huge dragon. It was all in black, massive wings flapping as it wrapped its claws into Lethos's burning body. It was trying to lift the Minotaur, but it was too heavy for it. Instead, Lethos's claws dug out sections of black scales like a miser runs his fingers through his coins.

"Lethos is in trouble," Valda said.

"Make that all of us." Syrus recoiled as the dragon's teeth sunk into Lethos's shoulder, having barely turned aside in time to avoid a bite to his throat. Blood gushed, and the Minotaur howled. The scent of burning fur and flesh was choking as bits of both blew away into the wind created by the fanning dragon wings.

Valda rushed into the scene that Syrus could not stop watching. The dragon's tail flicked at them as it wrestled atop the Minotaur, and whether intentional or not, it struck Valda's leg and sprawled her to the wall.

Syrus cried out and rushed to her. She had struck her head and her lower leg was cleanly snapped. A sickening bulge showed on her shin, though her fine white skin remained intact.

"Forget me," she said. "The wild stone is right there. Close it off."

Syrus followed her pointing finger, and sitting in a bronze clamshell was a massive hunk of black stone that pulsed with zigzagging yellow light. It was as if it struggled to breathe under great exertion.

"Close the shell," Valda said. "That has to be it."

Syrus threw himself on it, but the shell lid did not budge. Lethos roared as the dragon continued to dig its claws into his hide.

Heart racing as if he had run a hundred miles, he felt along the edge until he came to a wheel. It took both hands, but he yanked it into motion.

The clamshell lid wobbled then began to lower. He started laughing, turning the wheel frantically.

"Syrus, look out!"

He instinctively turned to Valda, but felt the heat gathering at his back.

Whipping about, the dragon sat triumphantly atop the smoldering Minotaur and its mouth hung open as it turned to him. Their air rippled with heat, and Syrus watched its gullet expand.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Lethos felt the demon's agony. It all happened in some other place. Was this how the demon felt when he was suffering? The dragon had bested him now, riding him down to the ground and tearing up his flesh like an old wool cloak. The fire had not done much more than burn away fur and singe patches of skin. Lethos and his Minotaur demon were losing the fight in the traditional manner, being ripped to shreds.

Avulash's dragon head swiveled to the left, and Lethos wondered what had distracted him. He had not tried to control the demon yet, but seeing how it was nearly dead, he thought it best to try. At his command, the Minotaur followed the dragon's gaze.

Lethos let out a roar of fear and fury.

Syrus was backed up against the wild stone, frantically turning a wheel that lowered the lid on the contraption that contained it. Valda lay against the wall behind him, her leg shattered and her face white with shock and fear.

Avulash was firing up another roasting gout of flames, and neither of his friends would survive.

Valda had lived after all, and so had Syrus. They had persevered despite everything thrown at them, and yet they had not one tenth the power that he possessed.

Shame flooded him, and hatred for Avulash rose with the tide of fury growing in him.

Without thinking, he was in control now. The demon held its form but its will was diminished. With a lightning strike, he seized the dragon's neck and yanked it back.

Fire spewed skyward and both Valda and Syrus shrieked. Yet the fire burned out harmlessly in the gray sky.

Now he was wrestling to control the dragon, yet Avulash managed to extract his head from Lethos's talon. A sprinkle of scales clattered down as he broke free. The dragon's voice was cruel and hissing.

"You are moved by your friends' sacrifices. Fool!"

Avulash again turned to breathe his fire, and Lethos punched the dragon's long throat to little avail.

However, Syrus had never stopped turning the wheel. The lid was nearly closed.

In that last moment, Valda hopped on her good leg and threw herself across the lid to slam it shut.

Something broke free in Lethos. The radiance that the demon had to absorb for him abated. His healing powers rushed back.

He roared in delight.

Avulash screamed, and suddenly the weight of the dragon pressing him lightened. He was shrinking.

He became Avulash the Tsal captain once more.

Lethos had him in both talons now, and shot to his feet as his injuries healed. The strength he experienced was as heady as any drug. He could have torn the world asunder if he could only get his arms around it.

"Nothing you do matters," Avulash yelled, his face twisted with hatred. "Kill me, but my king and my people will come. You are doomed, but I will be remembered forever!"

"I will kill you, little bug." The voice was deep and resonant--and his own. "And it will give me great pleasure."