Soul of Dragons (37 page)

Along with the scent of the Seneschal, an odor of ancient corruption. 

Romaria went on the hunt.

###

Mazael fought on, killing Malrag after Malrag, his armor dented and scraped from a dozen near-misses. The Demonsouled power burned inside him, filling him with strength and power, yearning to kill and slay and dance laughing through the blood of his enemies. Yet Mazael kept the rage of his tainted soul at bay, fought with precision and cool power. He knew the price of yielding to the insane fury that seethed in his mind, and though it filled him with strength, he would not yield to it. 

The demon magic within his soul was not his master. 

Another of the red-armored Malrags lunged at him with a crimson sword, its deformed face twisted in a snarl. Mazael blocked the blow on his shield and shoved, the heavy oak smashing into the Malrag's head. Yellow fangs fell to the floor, black blood splashing from the Malrag's mouth, and Mazael's next blow took the creature's head entirely.

Darkness swirled in the corner of his eye.

He spun just in time to catch Molly's stab on Lion's blade. 

She stood before him, clad in dark wool and leather, both hands wrapped around her sword's hilt. Dark circles ringed her bloodshot gray eyes, and she looked worn and tired. Despairing, even. 

Yet her face burned with hatred when she looked upon him.

“For Nicholas!” shouted Molly, and came at him. 

She loosed a storm of thrusts and stabs, forcing Mazael on the defensive. He swung at her neck, but Molly hopped nimbly aside, and her answering thrust opened the left side of Mazael's jaw, blood flowing into his beard.

He felt the crawling, tingling pain as the wound knit itself shut. 

“You'll pay!” said Molly, her eyes wild. “For everything you've done to me, for everything I've suffered, you'll pay!”

She kept up the attack, raining blows at Mazael. He backed away, catching the thrusts on his shield. Her momentum played out, and Mazael sidestepped, ducked an attack from a Malrag, and lunged at her. Molly dodged, but Mazael's Demonsouled power made him just as quick as his daughter. Her sword flicked up in a parry, and Lion crashed into it, his strength straining against hers.

And he was the stronger. 

He shoved her back, and Molly lost her balance, stumbling. Mazael drove Lion for her heart.

His sword touched only swirling darkness.

Molly reappeared behind him, and her sword crunched through the gap in his cuirass, plunging through the chain mail to sink into his side. 

###

Romaria's nose led her to the Seneschal. The shaman stood in the shadow of a massive pillar, staff clenched in both hands, rasping voice rising and falling in an incantation. Romaria circled behind the creature, paws making no noise against the stone floor. 

Then she launched herself at the shaman.

The Seneschal whirled, its three eyes widening in surprise, and disappeared in a flicker of shadow. Romaria hit the ground, pivoted, and ran in a different direction, her nostrils filled with the Seneschal's stench.

And the smell of the strange power the creature used to walk through the darkness. 

The Seneschal reappeared twenty yards away, pointing at her, green light flaring around its staff.

###

Pain erupted through Mazael, and he tore free of Molly's sword, hot blood flowing down his left leg. He fell to one knee, the motion sending agony shooting up his side. 

Molly laughed, or screamed, or both. “Die!” Her sword drew back for the kill. “Die, and...”

Mazael lashed out with his shield, deflecting Molly's stab and striking her hard in the stomach. She staggered, the breath knocked from her lungs. Mazael heaved himself back to his feet, ignoring the pain in his left side. Molly recovered sooner and went on the attack, trying to land another blow. Mazael let her drive him back, his left leg clenching with pain, her furious thrusts knocking splinters from his shield. 

His left leg went stiff, and Mazael stumbled.

Molly shrieked with glee and stabbed for his throat.

But he had anticipated the movement and ducked before it connected, the thrust clanging off his helm. Molly took one step too far and Mazael struck. She managed to dodge, but Lion's blade tore open her left shoulder, the sword's flames burning brighter and hotter. Molly screamed and Mazael pressed on, intending to end the fight.

Then an infused Malrag came at Mazael, and he broke away, turning to face the new threat. A parry, a dodge, and a quick swing, and the Malrag crumpled to the floor, black blood splashing from its torn throat. But it gave Molly more than enough time to vanish into the shadows. He tried to find her, but one of the ebony skeletons attacked, a black mace in its hand. Mazael caught the falling mace on his shield and struck back, Lion shearing through the undead thing's spine. Azure flames chewed into the black bones, and the skeleton collapsed in a heap. 

The pain in his side faded as his Demonsouled power closed the wound. Nearby the shield wall held, holding back the surging attacks of the Malrags and the undead. Some knights and armsmen had fallen, but far more Malrags than humans lay slain upon the stone floor.

There was no sign of Molly.

Mazael's hand tightened around Lion's hilt. She had been right, when she claimed she could not take him in a straight fight. If he could make her stand and fight, he could defeat her. 

But Molly would not stand and fight. The Skulls had trained her, and the Skulls of Barellion were assassins and hired murderers. They struck from the shadows with arrows and poisoned blades. They did not fight in the open, as knights did. Which meant that when Molly tried to kill him, she would come at him from behind, in an ambush...

Mazael spun, raising his shield as shadows swirled behind him. Molly stepped out of the darkness, sword lunging for his face. Mazael parried the blow and launched a thrust of his own. The wound on her left shoulder had already healed, but this time Lion scraped her right hip, the flames blazing. Again Molly screamed, stumbling back.

Pain. Lion's fire caused her pain, more pain that she could handle. If he could draw close enough to bury Lion in her flesh...

Another Malrag lunged at Mazael, swinging a black axe. He dodged, and sent Lion crashing through the creature's skull, blue flame burning through its eyes and mouth.

By the time Mazael wrenched Lion free, Molly vanished. 

He cursed. With her ability to walk through the shadows, his superior strength and skill did not matter. She could dance around him, wounding him bit by bit, until even his Demonsouled strength could not heal the injuries. 

Unless he removed her advantage. 

Mazael took the head from a zuvembie that flung itself at the shield wall and waited for Molly to reappear.

###

The Seneschal pointed its staff at Romaria, the green glow brightening. 

Romaria blurred back into the form of a woman. In one smooth motion she snatched her bow from her shoulder, drew back an arrow, and released.

And this time the Seneschal, focused on its spell, did not react in time. Romaria's arrow slammed into its chest, knocking the Seneschal to its knees. Lightning erupted from its staff, and Romaria ducked, the bolt blasting over her head to coil around one of the massive pillars. She rolled to one knee and fired again. The Seneschal snarled, raking clawed fingers through the air, and the arrow disintegrated before the steel head found the Malrag shaman's third eye. 

The shaman flung out its arms, its voice thundering inside Romaria's skull.

-Aid me! Aid me, now-

She loosed another arrow, but the Seneschal vanished in a flicker of darkness. 

A rattling noise caught her attention. She saw the shield wall standing firm against the Malrags, Gerald's shining sword darkened beneath a coat of Malrag blood, Kjalmir's hammer rising and falling as he smashed Malrag skulls. Mazael fought in a mad dance before the shield wall, and Romaria saw that he dueled Molly herself, the woman flickering in and out of shadow. 

She saw the ebony dead break free of the melee and race for her, responding to the Seneschal's call.

All of the ebony dead.

Coming for her.

###

Molly fought in a mad rage, the cool reserve of a Skull assassin cast aside. 

The dark fire of Demonsouled power had grown into an inferno, making her faster and stronger. Mazael was stronger than she was and just as fast, but Molly could walk through the shadows and he could not. She flickered around him, attacking from all angles, inflicting wound after minor wound. He was starting to slow. Even his Demonsouled nature could not sustain the fight forever. Sooner or later he would make a mistake, and then Molly would have him.

And Nicholas would be avenged.

Romaria would kill her then, but Molly did not care. This was the best path. She would strike down Mazael. And after Romaria struck Molly down, whatever Corvad did would not concern her.

Would not be her responsibility.

Mazael's blazing sword swung at her, and Molly jerked back at the last moment. Wounds from that damned sword hurt, made her blood burn with agony. No doubt the sword's magic attacked her Demonsouled nature itself. The weapon inflicted so much pain that she could not concentrate enough to escape through the shadows when it touched her. 

Well, she would make Mazael know worse pain before she slew him.

Mazael's attacks did not slow, the burning sword dancing in slashes and swings. Molly dodged and blocked, slapping aside the thrusts. She saw Mazael's momentum ebb, his chest rising and falling beneath his cuirass. One mistake. One mistake and she would have him...

Then Mazael came a half-step too close, and Molly saw her opening. 

She spun, reversed her grip on her sword, and drove the weapon with all her strength and weight behind it. The blade bit into the damaged side of his cuirass, sinking deep into his left flank. Mazael flinched, mouth opening in pain. Molly grinned, expecting him to tear free of the blade, to fall to his knees, to...

She did not expect him to throw aside his shield and seize her wrists, pulling the blade deeper into his guts.

And pulling her within his reach.

Molly tried to break free, but his grip was too strong. In a sudden panic, she fell into the shadows. 

But Mazael's hand was still around her wrists, and she pulled him into the shadows with her.

###

Romaria faced the ebony dead. Without their support, the Malrag attack collapsed, and Mazael's men surged forward with a shout, weapons rising and falling, while the archers and crossbowmen sent volleys into the Malrags. Swords and hammers wreathed in pale blue fire smashed the zuvembies to the floor.

But the ebony dead charged Romaria. 

She blurred into the shape of the great wolf, her clothes and weapons vanishing. In this form, she smelled the necromantic power hanging over the ebony dead like flies hovering over a corpse. It matched the scent of power surrounding the Seneschal. 

The Seneschal. Romaria had never before heard a Malrag give itself a name. Someone must have given the title to the ancient shaman. The old High Lords of Dracaryl, no doubt. Had they also given the Seneschal the power to command the ebony dead? 

Romaria growled as the realization came to her.

The skull-topped staff! It was a totem of power...and gave the Seneschal command over the ebony dead.

She dashed down the aisles of pillars, the ebony dead pursuing. 

Her nose led her to the Seneschal. The shaman hid between two pillars, the arrow jutting from its chest, its tattered robes glistening with black blood. The creature whirled as it sensed her approach, and leveled the black staff. 

Romaria flung herself sideways, ducking behind a pillar, and a sheet of snarling green lightning erupted from the staff. It plowed into the ebony dead, ripping a dozen of them to burning shards. Romaria heard the shaman's snarl of frustrated rage as she blurred into the shape of a human, her bow in hand.

She would have one chance at this.

She stepped back into sight, dropping to one knee, her bow drawn. 

The Seneschal stood before her, staff outstretched, all three eyes focused on the ebony dead its spell had just destroyed. It began to turn its head, but it was too late. Romaria's arrow buried itself in the side of the creature's chest. The Seneschal rocked back, stunned, and Romaria leaped into the air as she shifted into the form of the wolf. 

She crashed atop the Seneschal, the black staff spinning from its clawed hands, her jaws closing about its throat. One quick twist of her head and it was over, the shaman's vile blood filling her mouth. Romaria flowed back into her human form as the ebony dead closed, the Seneschal lying dead between her boots. 

She drew her bastard sword and hammered the blade upon the black staff. The ancient wood shivered and shattered into a dozen shards, the skulls rolling away. The ebony dead came to a halt, and for a uneasy moment Romaria wondered if they would go berserk without the staff's power to govern them. 

Then the green fires in their eye sockets winked out, and the skeletons collapsed into piles of motionless black bones. 

Romaria let out a long breath and looked for Mazael.

###

For a moment darkness blinded Mazael, and a cold chill blew through him. 

Then the darkness cleared, and Mazael found himself on the far end of the pillared hall, Molly's sword digging into his guts, his hand hard around her wrist. She stared at him in shock, gray eyes wide.

Mazael shoved against her, drawing Lion back for a stab.

Molly tried to break free, but his left hand held her hands pinned to her sword hilt. She twisted the blade, and a wave of agony burned through Mazael. Again Molly heaved back, trying to break free.

Mazael kicked, his armored right boot slamming into Molly's left knee. He heard bone crack, and she staggered. Once more she twisted her blade, blinding pain shooting through Mazael, and he almost lost his grip on her wrists. Yet he kicked again, and Molly hissed in pain. She threw herself back, darkness swallowing her.