Authors: Kate Douglas
Crystalfire (27 page)
There was no ignoring the twinkle in her eyes. He looked once more at his blade, at his knuckles gone white from the force of his grasp, and suddenly he was laughing.
Just laughing like a damned fool. The absurdity of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut. Here he was, chasing down a demon on the sides of Mount Shasta, accompanied by a sword that wouldn’t speak to him, and a beautiful woman who was really nothing more than swamp gas.
And she was so much more, and just so beautiful with the wisps of golden hair peeking out around the edges of the dark knit cap and her eyes twinkling in CrystalFire’s light, that he laughed even harder. Finally he got himself under control and grinned at her. “No,” he said, even though she hadn’t said a word. “I really don’t want to know what you’re thinking.”
“I was afraid of that.” She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle. “But I’m going to tell you anyway.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“I’m wondering if CrystalFire’s holding a grudge.”
“What?” He glanced at the sword in his hand. “Why?”
Willow’s voice softened and she ran her fingers along the crystalline blade. Ripples of light followed her touch and it made Taron think of the way Bumper had loved to be petted. “We don’t know who CrystalFire was, other than the fact he was a brave warrior, or he never would have become the sentience in your blade. Think of what his life has been—a soldier stuck in a philosopher’s sword. No hope of battle, no chance to do what soldiers do. I bet he spent a lot of time stuck in a closet.”
Taron suddenly saw his sword with a new eye. “You’re right. Soldiers fight. He’s had very few chances to engage in actual battle. Maybe he fears there won’t be another chance. That he’ll end up back in that closet. Is that true, CrystalFire? Do you miss the thrill of fighting demonkind?”
The sword sparkled. “We have fought bravely.”
“True. When we finally got the chance, we did well. But do you hold it against me, that most of our actual fights have been mock battles training Paladins? Small ones, killing lesser demons? Do you blame me for your boring existence in a scholar’s blade?”
The sparkles dulled to a mere glow. “We have no choice in the sword we inhabit or the citizen we serve.”
Taron glanced at Willow. “I think that’s a polite way of saying I’ve bored him to death over the years. CrystalFire. Your days of boredom are over. We follow the demon king right now. That final battle you warned me of will probably occur within the next couple of hours. Will you be ready?”
This time the blade flashed with a sense of true anger. “I am always ready. You, Taron of Libernus, are the one who concerns me.”
For one harsh moment, Taron fought a powerful urge to throw the crystal blade against the rocks. He took a deep breath instead. “Well, thank you so much for that vote of no confidence.” Disgusted, he shook his head and started to sheathe his blade. Unfortunately, he needed the light. “It’s a damned good thing he makes a decent flashlight. I’m not so certain this is the one I want beside me in battle.”
Willow merely sighed. “I don’t blame you. It’s hard to trust a weapon when you know it’s got such a low opinion of you.” She wrapped her fingers around his forearm. “I, on the other hand, have complete faith in you. C’mon.”
They walked together up the hillside, but Taron couldn’t get past what his blade had said. To be doubted by one’s sentient sword had to be the gravest of insults.
He just hoped CrystalFire wasn’t right.
“Bumper says we’re getting close.”
They’d been climbing for almost an hour and had reached the uppermost edge of the forest. Above them was snow-covered scree—the loose shale and broken rock left over from the last volcanic eruption. A trail wound through it, or the area would have been impossible to cross, but it was still going to be a difficult climb with snow covering much of the way.
The mountain’s volcanic peak remained lost in darkness and clouds, but the demon had to be somewhere above them on the rugged slope. Taron raised his sword and cast light across the mountainside. Huge boulders interspersed with the occasional twisted tree barely clinging to life cast dark shadows in CrystalFire’s brilliant glow.
The sword hadn’t spoken since its final insult. Taron wished the damned thing’s comments hadn’t bothered him so much, but those few cutting words had greatly undermined his confidence.
He would be the first to admit he wasn’t a warrior by nature—he was a scholar. He wasn’t a brave and forceful man, not a natural leader like Alton, and he wasn’t that skilled a swordsman—even Isra, a mere woman, had bested him in their mock skirmish—yet he was here, doing what had been asked of him.
He was going into war against a powerful demon, his only weapon a sword that thought he was a coward. Not an easy thing to ignore. Willow had told him not to pay the blade any attention, but that wasn’t easy to do, either.
Not when he couldn’t help but wonder if CrystalFire knew something Taron didn’t. He’d never thought of himself as a coward, but he’d not considered himself a warrior, either. That had not been his chosen life. He had never been faced with real danger. Not until that fateful night—was it only a week ago?—when demonkind invaded Lemuria. He’d fought well that night—two demon-possessed guards at the same time. He’d been afraid—what man wouldn’t have been? But he’d fought bravely. He’d come out of the battle alive, which was more than could be said for his opponents, but obviously CrystalFire hadn’t been impressed.
How did a man prove his worth as a soldier when he was, by nature, not of that ilk? There’d been no battles to fight, no wars to wage all those long years when none of them had realized demonkind ruled Lemuria. Should he have sought glory, gone after demons the way Alton had?
Alton’s HellFire appeared to hold Alton in high esteem, though Taron recalled it hadn’t always been that way. Maybe he still had to earn CrystalFire’s respect, but was that the way of a warrior? To fight, not to right an injustice or to battle evil, but to earn the respect of his sentient sword?
Somehow, that felt wrong on so many levels.
One did not fight for glory. One fought to make things right, to save a life, to preserve a society. One battled demonkind because the creatures were inherently evil—their goal was the overthrow of all that was good, and that alone made demons worthy opponents.
Taron knew he’d fought bravely when called upon, but he’d not searched for glory. Had he erred? Had he somehow failed his people, neglected his duty?
“Taron?”
Blinking, he turned and Willow was right there, mere inches away, looking up at him with obvious concern in her eyes.
Nine hells and then some, but he wanted to kiss her. Wanted to drag her into his arms, forget they hunted the demon king, forget his blade thought him less than a man—forget everything but losing himself in Willow’s sweet warmth, kissing her perfect lips, inhaling her scent. Forget everything but loving her.
Instead, he let out a shuddering breath. “What?”
Willow planted her hands on those beautiful hips ... the same hips he’d stroked earlier in the day, the same body he’d ...
She cocked her head and raised one very expressive eyebrow. Taron corralled his roaming thoughts and focused on her mouth, but that led to even more wonderful memories.
He looked at her eyes—brilliant blue eyes, boring into him with a vast amount of impatience. He blinked. Paid attention.
“First of all,” she said, “I am not snooping in your thoughts, but it’s way too obvious you’re agonizing over that stupid sword and what he said. Don’t worry about it. Ignore him. We have bigger things that concern us.”
He nodded, but couldn’t keep from glancing at the damned blade. “I know you’re right. But it’s not easy for a man to be called a coward.” He smiled and tried to make light of it. “He has insulted my manliness. That’s unacceptable.” When Willow smiled in return, he leaned in close and kissed her. The brief connection turned into something more, and when they finally pulled apart, Willow was breathing as hard as he was.
“What was that for?” She ran her tongue over her bottom lip, then the top. He imagined her tasting him, just as he tasted her on his mouth.
“For being right. Again,” he said. “I will hereby ignore CrystalFire’s insult. It appears my manliness remains intact.”
“Good. It seems to be working perfectly.”
She glanced down as she licked her lips and he had to turn away before the aforementioned manliness started working more than he wanted at this moment. He looked uphill at the fairly barren mountain and the trail winding through scattered snow drifts, loose scree, and old stumps. “We need a plan. We can’t let him get to the portal. If the demon reaches the access to the gateways, he could go anywhere. We might never find Ed.”
“I know,” She turned and followed his gaze. “I don’t think he’s all that far. The sulfur smell is getting stronger, so we must be gaining on him. We know he doesn’t like my sparkles, but he didn’t truly react until we used the sparkles and your sword together. I think that might be the way to stop him.”
Thunder echoed in the distance. Taron glanced at the forest just below them and the sky above. Lightning flickered in the clouds, but it was still a long way off. “He’s got to know we’re following him. Do you think he’s actually smart enough to plan an ambush?”
Willow shook her head. “Don’t doubt his intelligence. I think he’s a lot smarter than we give him credit for. He went for Bumper originally because he knew Eddy and Dax would do anything to save the dog, and he figured she’d be easier to control than a human. When that didn’t work, he was still able to make the adjustment and take over Ed’s body. It takes a very powerful, very intelligent creature to take control of a human, especially one with as strong a will as Ed.”
“He knows we’re following him. There’s no way he can miss seeing this.” Taron lowered his sword, thought about it a moment, and then sheathed the blade.
Immediately plunged into darkness, he gazed about and wondered how they’d find their way without light.
“Give your eyes a minute. They should adjust.”
He nodded and they both waited. The darkness made the sounds of the night louder, the gentle breeze colder. All of his senses seemed to grow more acute. He heard Willow’s soft breathing, and an owl in the distance. Thunder rumbled once again, a distant sound warning of more to come.
A different noise intruded. He was almost certain he heard rocks clattering on the trail above them. The demon moving up the mountain? It was hard to tell, but he focused his hearing and concentrated on the trail ahead.
Nothing. The darkness eased as his eyes took in what little light there was. Where a moment ago, he’d not even been able to see Willow’s shape, he could now make out the sparkle in her eyes and the glint of teeth as she smiled.
Taron grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I can see you now,” he said. Then he leaned over and kissed her nose. “Willow, I can’t imagine doing this without you. I’m so glad you’re here with me.” He thought of the silent sword in his scabbard, and realized that, without Willow, he’d be totally alone on this quest. The same quest his damned blade had ordered him to make. “I’m ...” He sighed. “You empower me, Willow. Only you.”
“Thank you.” Softly, thoughtfully, she ran her fingers along the line of his jaw. Then she gave him a cheeky grin. “I’m glad I’m here, too. In more ways than you can imagine.” She laughed. “Not that I don’t love Bumper, but I love having a real body, one that’s almost all mine.” She leaned in close and kissed him. “And most of all, I love having you love me. C’mon.” Willow flashed a brilliant smile at him and started up the hill, but she didn’t turn loose of his hand.
He tightened his hold on her. The connection gave him the confidence his sword had so easily undermined, but he couldn’t help but wonder how fragile that confidence truly was. Not good, when a battle loomed. Not good at all.
Chapter 21
The trail was rough, but the longer they walked, the easier it was to see. Though lightning still flashed in the distance and thunder rumbled, the clouds directly overhead had parted a bit and a waning moon cast its pale glow across the mountain. There was more snow along the trail than Taron had expected, and what little moonlight there was, reflected off the glistening ice.
The snow and ice made the hike more treacherous—the rocks were slippery, and puddles had frozen over and added to the danger. He’d heard about the unexpected storm the week before that dumped unseasonably heavy snow. Eddy’d been convinced it was sent by demonkind, but for whatever reason, the next few days had been warm enough to melt a lot of the snow away.
But the cold nights added a frozen crust and icy puddles. Taron was most definitely grateful for the shoes and socks he wore. The hike down in sandals hadn’t been pleasant. Of course, he hadn’t had Willow beside him. He still held on to Willow’s hand.
She stopped and put a finger to her lips.
Bumper senses something.
Bumper senses something.
He nodded and listened carefully. The pervasive stink of sulfur was all around, though it wasn’t all that strong. They’d noted the occasional footprint in the snow and knew the demon had come this way, but the night was silent and there was no sense of movement nearby.
Taron let go of Willow’s hand and stepped to one side.
Move off the trail,
he said.
We don’t want to give him an easy target.
Move off the trail,
he said.
We don’t want to give him an easy target.
I wish we could use CrystalFire. Most swords can sense demonkind.
CrystalFire? Can you douse your light if I pull you out of the scabbard? We don’t want to give away our location.
I am not a fool, Taron.
Neither am I, sword. But I’m growing tired of your attitude. Are you with me or do you intend to continue giving me more trouble than you’re worth?
There was no answer from his sword as he quietly pulled the dark blade from his scabbard. Even with a weapon he didn’t trust, he felt better going against the demon armed.
They continued on up the trail. He didn’t think the portal was too far away, but it was difficult to tell in the ever-changing light. Clouds blew in and out and swirled about the mountain’s rugged peak, first obscuring the moon and then parting and allowing streaks of moonlight through.
He heard Willow moving quietly off to his left and did his best to muffle his own steps, but the snow crunched and an occasional rock clattered against its neighbor. His anxiety grew, a sense of danger he couldn’t ignore. The demon had to be nearby. He thought of that blast they’d seen earlier.
And wondered what kind of weapons the demon had. He felt woefully unprepared. Now, if this were a debate, he’d be in fine form—there were very few battles of words that Taron of Libernus could lose.
A lot of good that did. Damned sword. He’d feel more confident with a blade that worked with him, not against him. He’d never heard of anything like this. Of course, it had been so long since any of them had actually spoken that the whole concept of the blades’ sentience had become more folklore than actual knowledge. How could he know what stories were true and what were merely legend?
Now that the blades had been awakened, their warrior souls were once again ready for battle. At least most of them were. Why not his? He knew the blades talked among themselves and shared knowledge, and the sentience in each was the true mind and heart of an actual warrior from long ago. That knowledge of battle lore was something that should be shared with the new warrior, the one who carried the blade.
That was knowledge CrystalFire should be sharing with him. His weapon could be instructing him even now on what to watch for, how to protect himself, and even more important, how to protect Willow.
Again he wondered about CrystalFire. He’d never heard of a case like this, a situation where the blade refused to acknowledge its owner’s ability.
He thought of Isra and her sword. FrostFire was proud of the woman who carried her, but maybe that was because Isra had acted in a way to deserve that pride.
He tightened his grasp on the silver hilt and forced himself back into the present. There was nothing he had done that he would change. He was who he was—a flawed man, but a good man who tried to do the right thing. He could be no more than the person he was meant to be, no matter how much that man might disappoint his crystal blade.
End of argument. He had other things to worry about. Things he might actually have the power to change. He turned his thoughts to Ed and wondered how he was holding up, if the man was even aware of the physical discomfort his body had to be enduring. Ed’s plight made Taron’s worries seem less than petty. This was no time for self-doubt, no time to wonder if he deserved to carry crystal. This was a time where a split-second decision could mean the difference between life and ...
A blast of fire shot from above and to the right. Taron raised his sword and threw himself in front of Willow. The crystal blade deflected most of the flames as he rolled through the snow and shot back to his feet. Willow shrieked, a cry of outrage as she pointed toward the source of the blast and fired a powerful shot of blue sparkles.
Sparkles? Nine hells! There was nothing sparkling about that sizzling tongue of blue flames that roared out of her fingertips and smashed into a pile of rocks off to the right of the trail.
Splinters of rock flew into the air. Light flashed and the afterburn left him blinded, but Taron rushed the demon’s hiding place with his sword raised. He had no idea how long it would take the demon to recharge his power, but Taron knew he’d damned well better hurry. Willow was right behind him as he went over the first of the rocks.
CrystalFire burst to life with a brilliant flash of light, but there was nothing here. No sign of Ed—merely a spot in the snow that was beaten down where he’d crouched in cover.
“Gods be damned, he’s gone!” Taron pointed the blade like a spotlight and swung the brilliant beam across the mountainside. Tracks appeared as dark shadows in the pristine snow, headed at an angle that would catch the trail just above them.
“C’mon.” With Willow on his heels, Taron took off after the demon. The tracks disappeared when they hit a bare patch of ground. Taron and Willow slipped behind a boulder, using it for cover while they continued to search.
Rocks clattered just beyond the burst of swordlight. Taron pointed the blade. A dark shadow ducked down behind a tangle of snow-covered brush. Grasping his sword in his hand, Taron raced across the snow, cutting at an angle that would put him above his target.
Without saying a word, Willow circled below, moving as quickly as Taron until they had the demon between them. Suddenly Ed rose up from behind his cover, pointed his fingers and shot fire at Willow.
She ducked and rolled as coiling flames boiled harmlessly over her head, but Taron used that moment to cross the open ground and take a position just above the demon’s hiding place.
The demon stood once again and turned toward Taron. He raised his hands as Taron aimed his sword. Flames burst out of Ed’s fingertips, a burst of power roaring across the snow with a thunderous noise. Taron called on CrystalFire, but his foot hit a patch of ice and he tumbled forward, directly into the path of the flames.
Willow screamed. CrystalFire blasted a shot of blue-white fire at the demon. Taron tumbled through the blast of demonfire and rolled out on the other side.
Incredible pain sliced into him. Pain and a sense of indescribable evil as he slid through the snow and slammed into a boulder.
His sword was knocked from his hand and he scrambled on hands and knees through the snow, searching for his weapon. Adrenaline fueled his search as he grappled for the hilt with his left hand. He sensed the demon coming close. Willow screamed a cry of pure rage.
Blue fire flashed and practically blinded him. A banshee shriek echoed off the hillside as his fingers closed around CrystalFire’s hilt. He turned and leapt to his feet, spinning about to face his opponent. The world kept spinning as he raised his weapon to attack. He was still searching when the demon twisted away from another of Willow’s blasts and raced across the hillside.
He ran with a lumbering gait, as if the man was no longer capable of the speed the demon pushed him to. Taron wondered if Ed were still alive. Had the demon resorted to animating Ed’s body in order to stay in this dimension?
He couldn’t tell, though he watched until the creature Ed had become disappeared into the darkness. Gasping for air, Taron looked down at the hand clasping his sword. He’d grabbed his weapon with his left hand, though he usually fought with his right. Now he stared dumbly as CrystalFire fell from numb fingers. He continued staring at the blade lying in the snow.
Then he leaned over with his hands on his knees, intending to reach for his weapon, but everything began a slow spin with his shimmering blade at the middle. Without a bit of warning, Taron toppled over and fell face first into the snow. Smoke and steam rose from his scorched sleeve where the demon’s fire had struck.
He lay there a moment, stunned and only partially conscious. Then the world seemed to settle. He twisted his body and tried to see how much damage there was on his shoulder. At first, it looked as if the heavy coat had absorbed the main force of the demon’s blast.
Alton was going to be so pissed. There was a huge hole in the shoulder of his beautiful leather jacket. Taron shoved himself into a sitting position with his right hand and then grabbed CrystalFire. It seemed wrong to leave the shimmering blade lying in the snow even if the damned thing was acting like a total prick. At least the sword worked when it had to.
He picked it up and stared at the sword, mesmerized by the steadily pulsing light.
Willow reached him seconds later. She knelt in the snow beside him. “Give me your sword. I need the light.”
He handed over CrystalFire, concentrating on the steadily increasing, screaming pain in his shoulder. He watched Willow’s slim fingers wrap around CrystalFire’s hilt. Taron thought he should warn her, but she already had a firm grasp on the weapon.
How could that be, that she could hold his sword without danger? Instead of striking out, the blade merely offered up its light as Willow held it near Taron’s wound.
“This is bad, Taron. Good gods ... it’s burned through the muscle. I can see bone.” She sat back on her heels and stared at him. Her blue eyes were huge, glowing in CrystalFire’s brilliant light. “Well, the good thing, I guess, is that it’s not bleeding. The demon’s fire cauterized the wound.”
He chuckled even as he gasped for breath. The pain was suddenly intense, blinding, even, and his breaths hissed in and out between his lips in short, jagged pants. “It hurts more, given your description,” he said. “I think I was better not knowing.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. Then you’d better not look at it. Hold the sword in your right hand. Dear gods,” she mumbled, more as if she were talking to herself instead of to him. “I hope I can still heal wounds.”
“I didn’t know you could do that.” He turned his head and gazed at her. Her eyes were huge dark shadows flickering with crystal light mere inches from his, her mouth too close to ignore. He practically fell against her as he kissed her. She pressed a hand to his chest, steadying him, and kissed him back.
It was nothing more than a quick touch of their lips, but it grounded him and somehow eased the pain. His heart settled down from its frantic pounding; his breathing slowed.
She pulled away from his kiss and frowned. “Let me concentrate. I don’t want to make it worse.”
“Kissing can’t possibly make it worse.” He’d started shivering though, and knew he must be going into shock, but he still managed to give her a quick grin that felt more like a grimace. Willow rolled her eyes. Then she focused entirely on his injury. She stared intently at his shoulder, and Taron could swear the pain lessened. Slowly she raised her hands and held them over the wound. Tiny blue sparkles flowed gently from her fingertips and disappeared into the blackened hole that had been his shoulder.
As fascinating as it was, he had to look away.
She was right. He really shouldn’t look at the damage. It was beyond awful. The demon had actually blasted away a large portion of his shoulder and arm. He should be dead, not sitting here in the snow more interested in the gorgeous woman than the damage to his body.
He could still see Willow’s sparkles from the corner of his eye, and he experienced a most amazing sensation, as if she brushed a cooling balm over his burned flesh wherever the sparkles touched.
The tiny flashes of light held him in thrall, as did the arch of Willow’s eyebrows, the intense look of concentration on her face, the way she pursed her lips as she worked over his injury. At some point, he realized that one of them needed to pay attention in case the demon returned, so he forced himself to look away from the captivating tilt of her chin and the wisps of blond hair escaping from her cap. He concentrated instead on the hillside above them.
It was easier to remain focused when Willow’s safety was at stake. He tuned out the odd sensation of knitting flesh and buzzing sparkles and scanned the shadows and ridges above them where the demon had disappeared.
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