Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King (32 page)

Her cold laughter cut like a whip.

THIRTY-FOUR

“There’s crazy, insanely

stupid, and then there’s me.”

                                                  —Caine Deathwalker

Her laughter echoed off the far walls and the floor, rising to the fixed eclipse in the shadow-sky above.  Yeah, she was scary, working hard at it, but I didn’t have to work at all; scary is my middle name.  I joined her laughing as dragon fire climbed my arms, spreading across stomach, chest, and back.  And then I was wearing the fire as a mask, and not burning at all.  No dragon is burned by their own fire.  I poured flame from my flesh, driving her back, and back.

She screeched, an inhuman sound.  Her substance thinned, as she became a three-dimensional shadow you could look through.  Her shape enlarged as her substance dispersed.  And her eyes were black pits rimmed with white like the lunar eclipse above.  She was living darkness, rising up above the roaring fire like smoke, running from the one element she couldn’t face, and already halfway to the hall’s high rim.

No, you are not escaping me.

I ran to the wall, swerving to follow its curve as I got there.  Pressed against my abdomen, my broken wrist throbbed, each sharp movement stabbing it with knives.  My inner dragon was fixing the damage to my back and wrist, and doing a little more besides; my hands were becoming claws, the kind you need to rip fey apart.  Pain was fading. 

Feeling almost my old self again, I leaped and landed atop the angled shaft of a torch, staying just long enough to launch again.  And again.  And again.  I didn’t follow the gradual upward spiral but leaped higher, setting a diagonal course from curved line to line.  Hop by hop, using dragon strength, I let momentum build, but never tried to jump too far.  Landing with too much force would break a torch and start my escape all over from scratch.  If I lost track of her now, the murder and mayhem in my heart would rage unquenched, and I’d miss out on a world of payback. 

The Old One’s shadow haze spilled over the rim like black mist.

A last leap carried me out of the barrel.  I landed on the top edge, a four foot rim where wind screamed.  Black and white crows scattered, taking wing.  I looked over the edge for my prey and only my heightened vision discerned one shadow moving through others, running into a labyrinth of obsidian walls.

A maze.  How quaint.

There was something off about the walls, a not quite solid feel.  The material seemed to ripple in place. 

Of course, this is Fairy where everything is suspect.
 
Now, how do I get down from here? 
Only one thing occurred to me.  I hoped I’d live through it. 

Facing the wall I wanted to descend, I dangled my legs over the edge and slid down to hang by my scaly, oversized hands.  I kept tension in my finger, digging claw-tips into stone, and allowed gravity to do the rest.  My claws gripped the obsidian with full dragon strength, trying to dig furrows to slow my descent. The process didn’t work as well as I hoped since the surface was so damn slick. 

The scrape of nails was loud.  My speed too high.  Seeing this, I kicked off the wall for distance, and crashed through tree limbs that slowed me at the expense of a few gouges and bloody scrapes.  I came out of the tree limbs and slammed into some picketed horses.  They panicked, stumbled sideways, pulled free, and ran away.  Then I crashed into the ground.  Alive.  It was just as well I’d sent the horses off; their dead owners inside the building wouldn’t be needing them anymore.

I picked myself up and ran toward the oddly shimmering surfaces of the dark maze. 

Plunging into the labyrinth, I noticed that the walls were thin, and that they were made of black chains that swished, producing a metallic shimmering sound.  This was a hunter’s maze.  The sound would distract prey from footfalls, and the hunter could go through the walls to make a kill.  A challenging environment.  Normally, I’d go high and use the top of the walls as a road.  Here, the top of the frames that held the curtains of chain were razor edged.  They’d slice through my shoes and then start on my feet. 

The Old One
had
run, but only to lead me to a killing ground of her choice.  She’d be lying in wait now, ready to ambush me.  And the razor edges up above wouldn’t cut her.  Darkness doesn’t bleed.  I needed her to return to being a corporeal fey. 
Dragon Flame
was just going to drive her off for a while.  Perhaps fighting darkness with darkness…  I looked at the back of one clawed hand where I wore the shadow brand I’d made.  A thought pulled out dark jags of energy to dance along the skin.

My heightened dragon senses pulled in the moan of wind, the shimmer of fine chains, and little else.  Using the edge of sight like a predator wasn’t working; there was too much rippling from the walls.  They caught at my attention, distracting me.  I tried easing through a wall to see how quietly it could be done.  The excess sounds could be heard but not from too far away.  Of course, crashing through a wall would be different.

I decided to go with a
what-the-hell
tactic.  From inside a wall, I threw handfuls of chain up over the razor edge until I had metal wrapping the top as insulation.  Stepping out of the wall, I used dragon strength to jump up to the wrapped edge.  I balanced there, using the added height to see if the dark fey were running toward me.  I saw no suspicious shadows in motion. 

Damn.  This is going to take a while.

I jumped down and crossed to another section of wall deeper in the maze.  I eased myself through and started to down a corridor.  From a distance, her laugh soared, a taunting slash at my confidence.  The bitch was trying to rattle me. 

Like that’s going to work.
 

I took a moment to strip my upper body.  Dank with blood, shirt, vest, and coat were uncomfortable and a hindrance to the smooth flow of my muscles.  My thoughts reached through my arsenal tattoo across the veil between worlds, pulling a Kevlar vest out of thin air.  Getting the vest on was difficult with my enlarged, claw hands.  Thinking about it, I let my right hand begin the process that would return it to normal.  I waited until I could grip a handgun, then summoned one from my armory.  That gave me close range and distance attacks.

As an extra safeguard, I flushed all of my tattoos with raw golden magic so my full array of spells were at fingertips.  Multiple agonies competed for my attention as I paid for the spells.  My feet felt flayed and soaked in acid.  My intestines knotted, my heart exploded in my chest, and it seemed as if my eyeballs wanted to burst from a hot steam injection. 

My thoughts focused through the sensations as they faded.  I imagining all the things I wanted to do to this bitch:
Damn shit-stick licking douche-mongering twat of an ass-clown.  You will share my pain.

Payment made, I shrugged off the psychic after-shocks, smiled, and stealthily advanced across small black brickwork with dead weeds poking up at intervals.  The metallic whispers of the chains hid the sounds of my steps, giving the enemy the same advantage.  Minutes crept by, but I was pretty sure she didn’t have escape in mind.  An ancient fey wouldn’t believe she could lose.  Her death was going to come as a hell of a surprise.

I should have been tired from a day of battle, from full transformations, magic expenditure, and from the drain that hyper-vigilance requires, but my system was flushed with adrenaline; my tiredness crowded away by the joy of killing.  Red eyed rats took one look at me and scurried away. 

I made several turns and found myself in a very long corridor.  This aisle might very well divide the entire maze.  And dead center, waiting for me, was the Old One.  I saw her human shape, but there was still a shady, spectral quality to it.  My dragon flame had taught her the danger of being too close, too solid.  I moved toward her.  No hesitation.  Relentless. 
The grim reaper’s calling, baby!

But it seemed too easy.  Why had she chosen this place?  What was special about here?  I swept the brick work with my dragon enhanced sight.  The bricks lost definition in a spot fifteen feet from her.  They kinda melted together.  As I approached that spot, I breathed deeply, drawing in all scents.  The Old One could use fey glamour to deceive my eyes, her power being considerably greater than other fey I’d messed with.  I needed to suspect everything around me. 

I caught the scent of old, rotted blood.  She’d killed here before, though not recently.

I stopped at the lip of the suspect bricks, noticing that they were gummed with dried blood and gore.  Here and there, I saw fragments of bone.  I also heard breathing left and right, coming from the side walls of chain.  Two … things … were there.  One was cannily quiet.  The other thought it was doing the same, but I heard the soft, near-vibration of its impending roar, straining for release. 

Monsters in a maze, how unoriginal
.

I showed her my best wicked smile.  “Nice trap.  Too bad it’s not enough.”

Her own smile stayed in place, but showed a hint of tension. 

I didn’t want her to flee again while I tangled with the hiding beasts, so I decided to try to stun her and then deal with the other threats.  Manifesting as a shade protected her from my claw-hand, handgun, and dragon fire, but it didn’t protect her from shadow magic.  My hand swung up, wreathed in shadow lightning.  I hurled stabbing forks of black energy at her.  She wasting a precious moment of reaction time by staring. 

Fuckin’ surprise, bitch!

I understood her disbelief; she was Mistress of Darkness, she ruled the Shadow Court.  No one was supposed to be able to use her element against her, especially an outsider to Fairy.  My black lightning cut through her ephemeral presence.  She wilted, screaming, and sprawled on her face, shuddering into silence.  Her long-nailed hands clawed at the black bricks.

A few steps ahead and to either side of the corridor, the chains lashed violently as big, dark shapes lumbered through.  Black fur with a satin sheen, slabs of muscle, small heads with glowing, orange-red eyes.  I recognized wolf traits, but there were simian elements as well, and the tails definitely seemed lizard.   

They growled, whirling toward me, going shoulder to shoulder while putting themselves between me and my prey.  My black fire tangled them, stinking the air with burnt fur.  Shrill, falsetto roars burst from their lips.  They staggered, but remained standing. 

Tough bastards
.

I let the shadow mark on my hand go dormant, and pulled a Storm PX4 from thin air, loaded with explosive rounds.  I placed four rounds in each of the creature’s chest.  Following the reports of the handgun, there were pops of bullets shredding flesh.  Deep, wide holes that looked scooped-out fountained blood.  A human would have been pierced through, most of the chest gone.  These beasts showed less damage, but flopped back with broken spines, collapsing into heaps.  Last to go was the red-orange glow of the eyes.

I swung my muzzle, seeking the Old One beyond the monsters, but she was gone. 

I returned my weapon to my armory, and cranked up my
Dragon Flame
tattoo.  I thrust fire down the corridor.  The monsters caught fire and crisped away with the sizzle sound of a steak on the grill.  The flames shot down the passage, backwashing up both arms.  Like doing the breast stroke, I separated my arms to either side, slashing with the super-hot flames.  The fine black chains that formed the side walls broke, a molten rain spraying back into side corridors.  I don’t know how far the flames ate, simply hoping I’d caught the dark lady.

I cut off the fire, listening for sounds of pain.  Sounds of flight.  Nothing. 

Lost her
.

The bricks where she’d lain sagged in the middle. 

Maybe not.

I walked through the flames still clinging to the bones of the monsters.  I stopped by the depression in the ground, staring down.  Fire had burn away old blood, adding definition to the bricks.  The middle of the slump fell into darkness, revealing a subterranean level.  I stomped at the edge of the depression and watched all of the bricks in that area fall from sight.

I’m guessing that she simply went dark and seeped through the ground in an attempt to hide. 

I jumped.  Twelve feet later, I landed on flagstone.  I was in a sprawling chamber.  Square blocks were spaced well apart, supporting the ceiling that was also the floor of the maze.  Beyond the supporting blocks, thick black nothing loomed.  The dark lady could be anywhere, a half mile away, or a dozen feet.  The air was dank, dusty, giving me no read on her.  I spun and spewed more dragon fire.  Arcing bands of fire sliced into the darkness, illuminating more supports, showing ever greater distances.  Clinging to the supports, falling to the floor, dragon fire increased the overall level of light.

Making me a more visible target.  I realized this too late as I heard a
twang
.  I tried to dodge, but wasn’t fast enough.  An arrow stabbed my left shoulder, just under the collar bone—an arrow made of shadow magic, darkness given substance.  I jumped to the side, ducking behind a support, guessing at her position.  The wound burned.  Twelve inches poked out of my front, about three inches protruding from the back of my shoulder.  I slapped the feathered end of the shaft and it popped through.  The shaft hit the flagstones and dissolved into mist, its work done.