The King of the Vile (24 page)

It’d have been easier to kill them, but Qurrah preferred to kill as few as possible. Even if Bram were in the wrong, the soldiers under his command didn’t deserve to suffer. Qurrah himself had followed Bram, why should he condemn others for the same?

“Are you here to save us or kill us?” asked red-haired Samar as Qurrah knelt beside him. He seemed the most together of the three young paladins, his jade eyes watching Qurrah’s every move.

“Have a little trust for once,” Qurrah said as he grabbed the chain attached to the manacles about the boy’s wrists. “We’re here to save you. If I wanted you dead, I’d have kept my mouth shut while Xarl made a spectacle of you before your teachers.”

Shadow swallowed the chain, weakening it. With a pull, Qurrah snapped the metal in half. He examined the chains wrapped about the paladin’s waist and chest, locking them to the post. Extra precautions for the battle, it seemed. Had Xarl predicted his attempt?

“Qurrah?” Tessanna said. He glanced up, his innards freeze. At least twenty soldiers rushed toward them from Queen Loreina’s pavilion. Had they hidden in wait? Even more worrisome was how several others rushed toward the front lines, no doubt seeking reinforcements.

“Shit,” Qurrah murmured. The captured paladins squirmed with fear.

“Look out!” one of them shouted.

Qurrah saw movement from the corner of his eye, and he rolled as a sword struck the dirt where he’d knelt. When he came up to his feet, fire flared about his hands. A young dark paladin faced him, thin wisps of fire, barely more potent than the whiskers on his chin, burning about his blade. He must have hidden in one of the nearby tents, otherwise Qurrah would have seen him approach.

“The soldiers are mine,” Tessanna said, fire blazing about her hands. Qurrah put his back to her, trusting her completely. Even if Tess wasn’t at full strength, she was potent another to combat men with mere armor and blades.

The dark paladin had his eyes fixed on Qurrah. “Xarl thought Ashhur’s cowards would attempt to flee during the battle,” he said. “But never did I think you would be there to aid them.”

“Karak and I don’t get along,” Qurrah said, lashing the whip at the grass between them. “How long until you and your god get that through your thick skulls?”

Qurrah heard screams from the soldiers behind him, and he chose that moment to strike, hoping the young paladin would distracted. His whip wrapped about the man’s right leg, the burning leather blazing so hot it burned through his armor and scored flesh. The dark paladin hollered in pain as he charged forward, weapon raised for attack. He took two steps and swung, a high arc meant to cleave Qurrah in half from shoulder to hip, but such clumsy brutality would never suffice, not against him. Qurrah had fought the Watcher in his prime. He’d faced his own brother when at his greatest fury. This brat was nothing compared to them.

Shadows swarmed around Qurrah’s open hand as he sidestepped the attack. He dove past the paladin and yanked his whip upward as he rolled back to his feet. The burning leather slid against the dark paladin’s chestplate before reaching his throat. The man let out a choked cry as it burned the flesh about his neck. Sword limp in his hand, he stepped back, flailing desperately at the whip. Qurrah gave him no chance. Shadow flew from Qurrah’s palm, a solid bolt of force that struck the paladin’s chest. The metal crunched inward, blood flowing through the newly opened cracks.

The dark paladin collapsed to his knees, all strength leaving him. Qurrah grabbed the young man’s face with his free hand, using his heel to trap the wrist holding the sword. A word of magic, and fire blazed from his fingers, setting the dying man alight. Qurrah shoved him to his back, his screams lasting but a moment before he fell still.

“I expected better,” Qurrah spat at the smoldering corpse.

“And so you shall have it.”

Qurrah turned. Anora approached through the encampment, a smug grin on her face. His worry returned. A dark paladin in training was one thing. A master wizard from the Council was another. He braced his legs, summoning all his power from the well deep within him. This would be no easy task. Sparing a glance, he saw Tessanna dancing through the soldiers, and to his surprise, she was smiling. Fire looped about her, an impenetrable tornado. From within, she flung arrows of shadow, against which their chainmail meant nothing.

“The moment I saw you I had a feeling we’d find time for a duel,” Qurrah said, releasing his whip and banishing its flame.

“I too hoped I would be given the privilege of killing you,” Anora said. “The great traitor and his whore of Celestia? Such accomplishments will have me remembered forever at the towers when I return.”

Qurrah looked over her shoulder, saw the battle still raging. At least with Anora engaging him, she wouldn’t be aiding the larger fight. Not much consolation there. Shadows sparking from his fingertips, he grinned at the woman, telling himself to enjoy the challenge. It’d been ages since he faced a spellcaster of any repute.

“When you return,” he said. “How cute. You think you’ll win.”

He gave her no chance to respond. Twin bolts of shadow flung from his palms, their edges sparking with white electricity. Anora extended a hand, fingers splayed. A translucent shield shimmered into existence and the bolts slammed into it with a
crack
like breaking stone. The shield rippled but did not break. Qurrah flung three more, giving her no reprieve. The bolts broke against the shield, but each one would take a tiny piece of her strength, slowly sapping her. To be fair, Qurrah was likely weakening quicker, but he had to trust that his power was greater. If Tessanna would join in...

“Is this all you have?” Anora asked. She stomped a foot, and the ground shook as if she were a giant. Qurrah stumbled, his next spell ruined, and the woman took the offensive. Her shield vanished and two long blades of concentrated lightning formed in her hands. They appeared made of concentrated lightning, crackling at her touch. She swung one, and despite the distance between them, the blade grew until it were nearly twenty feet long. Panicking, Qurrah summoned his shield, and he grunted as the lightning crackled against it.

“I’m just getting started,” Qurrah said as the second blade struck. The brightness of both blades hurt his eyes, but he dared not look away. His best advantage now was that with her hands holding her unique weapons, she couldn’t react as quickly against his attacks. Flaring power into his shield, he took a step forward. The lightning blades bowed as he shortened the distance, and through the newly formed gap he let loose a burst of flame.

A flame that vanished into nothing as the woman pressed her wrists together and muttered a word of power. Qurrah went to cast again, but she pointed a finger at him. A barrage of colors flashed before his eyes. Disoriented and suddenly queasy, he staggered backward, hands flailing to re-summon his shield. He more felt than saw the lightning blades strike against it. Thrice more they hit, then pulled back.

Desperate, Qurrah flung invisible waves of weakness and disorientation right back at her, hoping to force her to relent.

“Curses?” Anora said as her earrings shimmered with sudden energy. “Do you think I’m not protected against something so quaint?”

Qurrah shrugged.

“One can hope.”

She lashed him with her lightning as if punishing him for his petulance. The magical blades grew again, and this time they wrapped around him like Qurrah’s own whip. From all sides of his shield they crackled, tearing into his magical protection, wearing him down. Qurrah felt his mind breaking from the strain. He’d never fought such a weapon before, one that seemed designed solely to break through his magical protections. Lances of ice and blasts of flame he could scatter with ease, but this damn electricity? It didn’t hit just once, nor at a focused point, but everywhere, over and over in constant pressure.

He retreated, hoping in vain for space. Anora matched him step for step. They drew closer to the chained paladins, who cowered in terror at the battle playing out before them.

“Tess!” screamed Qurrah. Damn his pride, and the stupid soldiers. He needed help.

Almost at once fire surged toward the sorceress, and she had to cross her wrists to counter. Tessanna approached, black tendrils growing from her back like the wings of a demon. They snapped at Anora like snakes that swayed side to side. The spellcaster’s lightning blades grew to absurd lengths and sliced through the shadow, banishing them. But Anora’s focus was split now, and Qurrah kept up the pressure. Bones ripped free from the dead paladin of Karak’s corpse, shimmering with magic as Qurrah controlled them with his mind. They lashed against Anora’s exposed skin, slicing and bruising her. A gust of wind rolled out from her in all directions, blowing back the floating bones.

A blade of lightning crashed against Qurrah’s shield as she spun, attacking both he and Tess at once. Qurrah pushed himself through the pain. Most of the bones might be gone, but the body still remained close, filled with the leftover energy that collected after a soul’s passing. Words of magic dashed off his lips, and he poured his own power into the corpse. With a clenching of his fist, it exploded. The larger bones that lingered, particularly the pelvis and skull, proved the most damaging. Anora staggered, and finally those damn blades of lightning faded away as she summoned a proper shield to protect herself.

“Even outnumbering me, you will not win,” she said, though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself and not them. “I’ve trained with masters. I know spells you can only dream of.”

“And I have walked the chaotic spaces between the worlds you call dreams,” Tessanna said. A wave of her hand, and a ring of fire exploded outward from her waist. Anora protected herself from it with her shield, but the remaining two soldiers Tessanna had been fighting were run through, their armor melting and flesh burning away. Their innards spilled across the ground as they collapsed. Clenching her fingers, Tessanna ripped their spines from their bodies. The bloodied bones swirled about her, each vertebrate snapping free as they orbited in three long ovals.

“Masters,” Tessanna said, her voice echoing as if two people spoke, not one. “Who are they compared to a goddess?”

Anora pressed her hands together and unleashed a crimson beam of raw magical power. The beam hit the swirling bones with a sound of thunder, but it was the beam, not the bones, that broke. Tessanna waved a hand, and bone pieces flung toward Anora, black shadows swirling about them. They struck the woman in the chest and stomach, each hit sounding more painful than the last.

Anora screamed, and she pulled a gem from a pocket and clutched it tightly. At a word, the gem shattered. Qurrah sensed the power within it, and it poured into Anora accompanied by a rushing sound of air. Tessanna struck again, and Qurrah joined in, firing bolts of shadow alongside her shimmering bones. Both hit Anora’s renewed shield and dissolved.

“Two decades I poured my strength into this gem,” Anora shouted. “Two decades of preparing to overthrow Roand, and you’ve made me waste it on you!”

Qurrah might have felt more proud if he wasn’t scrambling to stay alive. A barrage of fire and ice exploded out of Anora. Her eyes and mouth unleashed flame, her fingertips shards of ice. Every hit on his shield was like a punch to the gut. Tears filled his vision. Anora’s entire body shimmered, magical power arcing off her like lightning. Poor Samar was so close he had to close his eyes and turn away lest his face be burned.

That lightning blasted toward Qurrah. Instead of blocking, he ripped open earth before him and created a wall. The beam smashed into it, blasting through stone and tearing into Qurrah’s body. He rolled along the ground, heart hammering, ears ringing. A similar blast flew toward Tessanna, but she handled it better. The bone shield swirled, magical protection shimmering like a shadow before her. The lightning continued on and on, and Tessanna screamed from the pain. Despite the power required for such an incredible display, Anora refused to relent. Beads of sweat ran down her forehead, blood trickled from her nose, yet it seemed the reserve granted by the gem provided her with endless power.

“I will drag you to the towers,” she shouted. “I will let you suffer for an age in rooms where time is but a dream. You’ll bleed, and scream, and beg...”

Her words died as Samar extended his leg as far as he could and kicked her directly in the crotch. She doubled over, the lightning about her hands flickering for the slightest moment.

Qurrah dove toward her, word of power on his lips.

“Hemorrhage!”

His power flooded into her, and she could not counter in time. Her face exploded, blood rupturing from her nose in a torrent. The rest of her flesh peeled back, caving in her teeth and sending her eyeballs flying in opposite directions, the connecting nerves trailing with them. An aching death rattle escaped her throat as she collapsed to her knees, then slumped to one side, a pool of blood collecting beneath her head.

“Thanks,” Qurrah said, slumping beside the kid.

“Welcome,” the paladin said. His eyes lingered on the dead body, and he looked an inch away from vomiting. “Please don’t tell Jerico. I doubt that counted as fighting honorably.”

“Forget fighting honorably,” Qurrah said. “Fight to live. Everything else is vanity.”

Rising to his feet, he looked at Tessanna. She was tired, beaten, and bruised, but alive.

“Remind me to never make enemies of the Council,” Qurrah told her, and he laughed. Bodies surrounded them, dozens of dead soldiers, plus a dark paladin and a sorceress of the Council...and they weren’t safe yet.