The Legend Of Eli Monpress (127 page)

The shock wave blasted Alric into the air. He landed on his back in the dirt, but was on his feet in an instant, waving his hands in a desperate attempt to see what had happened. The crater was thick with blown-out dirt. He could hear Slorn’s wagon scrambling behind him, probably trying to right itself after the cannon’s kick, but he couldn’t see anything but yellow, billowing dust.

He’d taken two blind steps when the demon’s claws lashed out of the dust cloud and hit him hard in the shoulder. Alric went down with a shout, raising his sword instinctively to block the next blow. But the claws went right over him, thrashing wildly through the air.

Alric rolled clear, gripping his bleeding shoulder as the dust began to settle. The first thing he noticed was that several of his men were down, knocked over by the blast
wave or taken out by the demon, he didn’t know. The cratered arena they’d been fighting in was now twice as deep, and he could see the outline of the demon at its center, still madly lashing out. Alric wiped the dust from his eyes with a bloody hand. How could it still be standing? Had the shot missed? But as his vision cleared, he saw the truth. The demon’s head was gone, blasted clean off, but the body was still fighting. It struck blindly, the claws stabbing out. As he watched, one of the random blows landed in the back of one of his downed men.

Alric shouted, but it was too late. The man screamed as the claw skewered him, and the demon stopped thrashing to lunge at its kill, dragging the man toward its ruined body as its claws began to eat his flesh right then and there, drinking in his power to heal its wounds.

“Shoot it again!” Alric shouted, scrambling up the edge of the crater. “Damn it, Slorn, shoot it again! Now!”

Miranda jumped down from the scrambling wagon, landing on her waiting ghosthound. The water followed her, sliding over her shoulders like a mantle as the hound cleared the distance to Alric in one jump.

“There aren’t any more shots,” she said as Gin slid to a stop. “We only had two.”

Alric gritted his teeth. “Then we do this the hard way.” Miranda jumped down. “What do you mean the har—Wait!”

But Alric was already gone. He charged through the dust cloud, picking up speed as he ran down the crater toward the demon, who was still eating its victim.

He launched himself off the slope, drawing his sword in a golden flash. Hungry and blind, the demon didn’t raise a claw to defend itself. Alric’s blow sliced into its
back, his golden blade peeling through the demon’s shell and into its spine. The creature screamed, and the demon panic hammered Alric’s mind. But he was further than fear could reach. He pressed the blow, cutting down through the demon’s torso. It dropped the soldier and reached backward, clawing wildly at Alric, but it was too late. With a shout of triumph, Alric turned his sword and sliced up through the tissue that connected the seed to its host.

The demon howled. Claws ripped into Alric’s back and threw him down. He landed under the demon’s clawed feet. There was no time to dodge; the thrashing demon’s claws landed right on top of him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the explosion of pain as the demon’s foot ripped into his chest, but he felt nothing. He opened them again, staring up in amazement. The demon’s foot was on his chest, but there was no weight to it. The monster was still thrashing, but with every movement, bits of it were breaking away. The demon was crumbling like ash, breaking apart and floating away. Already, the fear was receding as the demon crumpled in on itself. By the time Alric managed to sit up, it was nothing more than a pile of black dust around a long, black seed.

Alric took a deep, pained breath. It was over. The demon was dead. He looked around, doing a quick count of his men. Two dead for certain, three more lying motionless, but the rest were pushing themselves up. Not bad considering what they’d faced without the Lord of Storms’ backup. But there was one loss he felt more than the others.

Alric looked down at the sword in his hands. The long, slender blade still glowed faintly with its own golden
light, but the cutting edge was ravaged. Enormous chunks were missing, leaving great gaps all the way to the core of the blade.

“Dunelle,” he whispered. “My Last Sunlight. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“You did what had to be done.” His sword’s ringing voice was warped and muffled with pain, but the pride in the words stood bold and clear. “It has been an honor to serve you, sir.”

The golden light grew dimmer as it spoke, and Alric felt tears in his eyes for the first time in a century. “The honor has been mine,” he whispered, laying the destroyed blade across his knees.

He heard the crunch of boots behind him, but he did not take his eyes from the blade until the last of the golden light faded out completely.

“A noble sword,” Slorn said, his voice soft by Alric’s ear. “One of the finest I ever made.”

Alric nodded, but said nothing. Slorn knelt down beside him. “I know it will be no replacement, but I can make you another blade.”

“I don’t need another blade,” Alric said, sliding his ravaged sword back into its sheath.

Slorn left it at that. “You should see to your wounds.”

“What,” Alric said, “and leave the seed to you?”

Slorn stiffened. “That is not what I meant, but it is Nivel’s seed.” He turned his bear head, staring at the long, black shape lying in the demon’s dusty remains. “It is all I have left of our work together, of our lives. If I was ever kind to you, Alric, if our work ever opened a door of thought in your mind, you will let me study it a moment before you lock it away.”

Alric heaved a deep sigh and waved him on. Slorn stood with a murmur of thanks and walked over to kneel by the seed, staring at it with an intensity Alric had never seen.

“You really should do something about that shoulder,” said a voice behind him. “You’re bleeding everywhere.”

He looked back to see Miranda hovering at the edge of the crater.

“Thank you for your concern, Spiritualist,” he said, pushing himself up. “But your worry is wasted. I am very hard to kill. It is my gift.”

Miranda frowned. “Your gift?”

Alric smiled. It was refreshing to meet someone who didn’t know all the secrets for once. “The League requires great sacrifices of its members. To counterbalance this, the Lord of Storms bestows gifts upon us. Some men choose power, others choose invulnerability. I chose eternal life.”

“You mean you can’t be killed?” Miranda said, impressed.

Alric frowned. “There is a wide difference between eternal life and invulnerability to death. I can be killed just like any other man, given enough damage, but over the years I’ve gotten fairly good at staying alive. Don’t worry, it will take more than this to kill me.”

He left her pondering that and walked off to gather what was left of his men. There was much to clean up before the day was done.

“Eternal life,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “No wonder he’s always so smug. I’d be smug too if I knew I was going to survive most anything.”

“Well, I don’t like it,” Mellinor said. “The only defense
most spirits have against humans is your short lives. No matter how bad it gets, we can always outlast you. An immortal wizard sounds like a disaster to me. Thank goodness he’s working for the League and not trying to rule some spirit domain somewhere.”

Miranda was slightly insulted by that train of logic, but she held her tongue, turning instead to see how Gin was faring.

“Find anything?”

“I’ve got Eli’s scent,” Gin said, running his nose along the ground. “No trail yet, though.” A little dust cloud rose up as he spoke, and Gin sneezed several times. “This is a horrible place to be looking,” he snorted. “The dirt’s so jumpy it’s flinging itself up my nose. We’ll have to wait until the League calms things down before I can get a good fix.”

Miranda sighed in frustration. “The trail will be stone cold by then.”

“Even I can’t work miracles,” Gin said, lashing his tail.

“Sorry, sorry,” Miranda grumbled. “It’s just that every single time I get close to catching Eli, something horrendous happens, and it’s getting really old.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch him,” Gin said. “Sparrow had him last, remember? Much as I can’t stand him, the bird boy is just as sly as the thief. It’ll all work itself out.”

“I hope so,” Miranda said. “Because if I have to go back to Zarin empty-handed one more time, I think I’ll cry.”

Gin whimpered sympathetically and went back to sniffing. Miranda strolled along beside him, searching the destroyed town for a clue, any clue, the thief might have left behind.

N
ico and Eli found Josef buried beneath a collapsed house. He was unconscious and bleeding badly, but miraculously unbroken.

“Probably because he was out before he hit,” Eli said, grabbing the swordsman by his arms. “Going limp saves your bones, though I can’t vouch for the rest of him.”

Nico nodded, pushing a beam off the Heart, which was lying in a crater of its own about ten feet away. When she had the path clear, she grabbed Josef’s feet and they hauled him over to his sword.

“There,” Eli said, folding Josef’s fingers around the hilt. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Nico couldn’t agree more. They couldn’t see the fighting from where they were, but the sounds coming from the crater that had been the arena were horrible enough that she didn’t want to. Using Josef’s arm for leverage, they got the Heart on his chest, and Eli tied it down using a strip of Josef’s shredded shirt. When the swordsman was
secure, Eli grabbed his shoulders while Nico got his legs and together they carried him out of the wreckage to the road.

It was slow going. Josef was amazingly heavy and the road was constantly blocked by toppled buildings, forcing them to retrace their steps and go around. They kept to the side streets as much as possible, but even when they had to use the large main roads, they saw no one. Except for the League men at the arena, the city was empty. The bandits were long gone, and Nico didn’t blame them one bit. She would have run too if she could have.

Yes, you’re very good at running.

Nico closed her mind and focused on keeping up with Eli’s grueling pace.

By the time they reached the canyon wall that separated the bandit city from the surrounding forest, her knees were ready to buckle. Josef’s body seemed to grow heavier with every step. Her arms ached with the strain of holding him. Sweat dripped into her eyes, making them burn, but worst of all was her transformed hand. Though she’d wrapped her demon claw in her coat as best she could, she could still feel Josef’s flesh through the cloth, feel the life in him calling out. The claws twitched in anticipation. The raw hunger she felt every time her transformed fingers brushed Josef’s skin made her ill, but she could not let him go.

You’re only having this problem because you refuse to accept yourself
, the Master said with a sigh.
How many times have you carried the swordsman’s unconscious carcass? Fifty? A hundred? More? You never had problems helping him then. Now look at you, ready to fall over after a quarter mile.

Nico tightened her grip. Unfortunately, it only made her hand itch worse as she pressed it into the flesh of Josef’s calf.

If you would only accept reality, everything would be so much simpler.
For the first time that she could remember, the Master’s voice sounded earnest.
I can help you control the hunger. I can even help you remember what you’ve forgotten. I can make you a god among insects, Nico. A power Eli Monpress would treasure above all others and a companion Josef Liechten would never abandon. I can make you everything you want to become. All you have to do is stop being stubborn. You are my child, my dearest daughter. I know more than anyone what it is like to be outcast. You don’t have to struggle on alone. Let me help you.

The words were so sweet, so sincere, that for a stumbling moment, Nico almost gave in. But then Nivel’s words, words, she realized with a stab of sadness, she would never hear her speak again, sounded loud and clear in her mind.

Never trust the voice.

What?
The voice was sneering now, all sincerity gone.
You’re still listening to that woman? That pathetic creature? Did you know she died without lifting a finger to save herself? Defeated by Sted, the one-armed, spirit-deaf, League reject? She died like a dog, whimpering and crying for her precious bear-headed freak of a husband. Is that the kind of strength you want?

The voice began to laugh, but Nico cut it off.

“You said she died without a fight,” she whispered fiercely. “But you said nothing about her giving in. She didn’t, did she? She died with her soul intact.”

I ate her soul and gave her seed to Sted
, the Master said.

“No,” Nico said, eyes wide as the revelations tumbled through her mind, snapping into place one by one. “That would make her less powerful. You would never accept a weaker servant when you could have a stronger one. She beat you, didn’t she? Nivel died human. That’s why you had to give Sted her seed.” She stopped midstep, causing Eli to stumble.

“Nico?” Eli said, looking back. “What’s wrong? What are you muttering about?”

“She was the master of herself,” Nico said, her voice trembling with wonder. “You couldn’t take her.”