Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (33 page)

           
It
was the only opening Gregor needed. The holy warrior's favored hand pulled the
true blade from the scabbard at his back. Drawing on the lessons of Lord
Silverwing so long ago, Gregor knocked the staff to one side with Onmea,
delivering a staggering blow into Father Tur'morival's chest with the blazing
sword of the Knights of the Golden Dragon. The priest crumpled to the floor,
flesh withered by two hundred years of unnatural life replacing the thick
shimmering scales that had covered him, and Gregor moved to kneel at the
priest's side.
 
Father Tur'morival stared
up at the kneeling warrior, focusing his remaining strength to speak. “As it
was foretold, so it has come to pass. Destroy the stone and destroy
Siniamadrau, it is the only way. Destroy Siniamadrau.” The priest's body rotted
away until all that remained were bits of bone and a pile of dried flesh to
show he had ever lived at all.

           
Gregor
felt his strength lessening as he bent to pick up the glowing stone near the
empty robes Father Tur'morival had worn. He rose slowly, returning the blessed
sword of the Knights of the Golden Dragon to the sheath at his back and sliding
Onmea into the scabbard at this side. The young knight doubted he would have
the power to wield the weapons against Siniamadrau, but he raised his voice in
entreaty to the God of Light to carry him back down the stairs to the demon's
lair. “Blessed God of Light, I will do what you will of me and ask nothing for
myself. Give me the wisdom to destroy the creature that has violated the
Keepers of the Light who sacrificed themselves in service to you. Allow me to
draw my final breath after the demon is no more and bow before your divinity
once I have served your purpose.”
 
His
heavy boots slowly dragged him to the stairs as he balanced himself carefully,
running his gauntleted hand along the wall of the stairwell that led to the
demon's throne room. Somehow he retained a grip on the stone in his other hand
as each step weakened his body. Gregor swore he would do what must be done
before his spirit left this world.

***

           
Tana
had taken only a moment to stare at Gregor's retreating back as he headed to
the stairs at the far side of the cavern. Boremac wasted no time picking
himself up from the ground, and while coughing in an effort to clear his
throat, launched into a verbal assault directed at the Tharnorsa that would
have made the most callous sailor blush. Tana found a smile forcing its way to
her lips as she watched the foolish rogue deftly dodge the demon's envenomed
tail.
 
Boremac quickly danced to one side
then the other, stabbing at the offending tail of the creature before him, the
whole time holding out his shimmering daggers that were lit once more as the
poison from the demon had been injected into Gregor. The huntress had to admit
the rogue was brave. Insane, but no less brave for his lack of wisdom.
 
“You will find me a more difficult opponent
than the nearby dead Silverwing and Master Gregor. Bring me your stinger so I
can carry a proper treasure home! Come on, can you do no better than that?
 
My mind is too slippery for one grown used to
dealing with honorable warriors.” Tana understood the rogue's warning, and
cleared her own mind as she slipped behind the demon while Boremac bought her
the time she would need. She focused on summoning her healing powers as she ran
quietly to the demon's giant throne, praying the rogue could keep the demon
from knowing her intent. She would not be able to heal Lord Silverwing or purge
the poison with her limited powers, but she had to do what she could. Tana
trusted it would be enough until she could use the curative Gregor had given
her.

           
***

           
Boremac
dusted himself off as the demon glared at him with hate-filled eyes. Even
before the rogue had risen from the floor of the cavern, he had attacked the
demon with a vitriolic series of curses, calling the creature's abilities and
the demon's commitment to chaos and evil, into question. “Pity you can't kill
me. I am pretty certain I can take you, demon. Do you honor the words you gave
Master Gregor? Come, take me if you can!” Boremac focused his mind on the
events of the past as he gave his body over to the reflexes he had honed in a
lifetime of self-preservation.
 
As he
grinned at the furious demon before him, knocking the vicious stinger of its
tail away from him with the flat of his dagger, he remembered events that had
brought him here; when Silverwing shot him from the tree after slaying the
assassins, waking up next to the goat, rescuing Master Gregor only to be
captured
himself. The
demon would find nothing in the rogue's mind to give him an advantage. Just a
little more time, that was all the huntress needed, and Boremac would do his
damnedest to give it to her. “I know you can move faster than that, demon.
Don't hold back on my account. You don't fear the simple daggers of a master
thief, do you?” Boremac thrust both the daggers out at once, each still glowing
dimly, toward the scars Silverwing had given the creature long ago. The rogue
noticed that the blades he held out, brightly shining when Gregor had first
felt the bite of the demon's stinger, had diminished in intensity when the
knight had moved deeper into the keep to face Father Tur'morival. Curiously,
the enveloping golden glow was intensifying once more very slowly as the rogue
withdrew the feint. “Looks like a nasty pair of scars you have there, demon.
That must have hurt.
 
The God of Light
appears to be favoring me in our little dance.
 
Why don't we make this easy for you? Drop that tail and I will stab you
in the throat. Judging from the other victims of my blades, it will only hurt
you for a moment. I never was much for extending death throes.”
 
Boremac slapped at the tail as it swept low
around the demon's waist, seeking purchase in the rogue's leathers. “Come on,
demon. This is just silly. Bow to a superior foe and go back to the Abyss.” The
demon drew back the tail, trembling with fury, and brought it high, preparing
to pierce the rogue's neck in reply to his taunting. Boremac grinned with the
knowledge that his little gamble had worked. He buried the two brightly glowing
daggers into the scars of the demon's chest, dropping into a crouch and
springing away from the Tharnorsa to land on his back several steps from where
the demon stood.

           
Boremac
wondered for years to come why he was not killed at that moment. Everything
happened so fast the rogue could not make sense of what had taken place. The
demon howled in fury as it leapt into the air toward where Boremac lay. The
rogue saw that the hilts protruding from the descending demon were glowing more
brightly that he had ever seen before, two small
suns
in the Tharnorsa's chest. The creature landed, digging its clawed feet into the
rocky floor at Boremac's sides, and brought one of his clawed scaly hands to
the rogue's chest. As the Tharnorsa pinned Boremac to the floor, impossibly
long bloody claws emerged from the demon's other hand as he raised it over his
head. The demon's intention was clear, and Boremac drew what he was certain
would be his last breath.

           
“Release
him, demon!” The command was little more than a whisper. “You are bound to the
will of the keeper of the stone. Release him now.”

           
Boremac
released the breath his lungs had seemingly held for hours, still staring into
the demon's eyes. The Tharnorsa's claws drew back into the hand over his head.
The creature was not quite ready to release the rogue despite the command. “You
will be dealt with in a moment, rogue.” Boremac felt the truth in the demon's
last words to him. Gregor was dying; there was no doubt in the rogue's mind. He
was familiar enough with the last words of the dying to recognize them as
Gregor spoke.

           
“Father
Tur'morival is dead and the Crimson Night will not come to pass, not so long as
there is breath in my body. You will submit, and you will be destroyed. Kneel,
demon.” Blood and greenish fluid trickled from Gregor's mouth as he spoke. The
holy warrior fell to his own knees, the last of his strength leaving him as the
demon's poison coursed through his body.

           
“You
have returned with the stone as you promised, and I will allow your companions
to live, though their lives will be an unending torture. I hope you will allow
me to kill them when they beg for death, Master. You should speak on their
behalf now. It will not be long until you succumb to the poison eating your
flesh.” The demon's condescending tone and the words concerning his companions
gave Gregor the power to do one thing more. The demon had desired the stone
whole for some reason, and if he were able to take it from Gregor's dead hands,
his friends would suffer for all eternity. Still, Father Tur'morival had said
that the stone must be destroyed to destroy the demon. What had ruled the
priest’s reasoning at the end? A desire for the destruction of his deceiver, or
the bringing of the Crimson Night for which he had so long labored? Gregor had
no choice. He brought the stone in his grasp even with his shoulder and focused
all his remaining strength into shattering the orb against the cavern floor,
whispering his last command to the demon. “Siniamadrau, I command you by your
true name to exist no more. Your spirit will be diminished as your form in this
world and the Abyss is extinguished. You will submit to the divine will of the God
of Light as delivered by the Knight of the Golden Dragon, Keeper of the Light.”
A small crimson cloud rose from the remnants of the stone, slowly drifting to
join with Siniamadrau as it shifted and flowed toward the demon.

           
White
light enveloped Gregor's body as he fell forward with his head resting on the
hot floor of the cavern. For the second time in his life, he lay before the
towering form of the Tharnorsa that had slain the Knights of Bella Grey.
Siniamadrau shifted into his true form, standing as high as the massive throne
behind him. The demon's thoughts pierced Gregor's mind as the knight lay
unmoving on the floor.
As you command, Master. I await the killing
blow of your blessed weapon.

           
As quickly as the pulsing heat of the demon had infused Gregor's
body, it was replaced by the cool touch of divinity.
Rest, my young warrior. Your work here is done.

           
Boremac sat up, staring
at the immense form of the Tharnorsa whose shadow fell over the rogue and Lord
Lightsword. He moved to Gregor's prone form, gently turning the warrior over
and taking the knight into his lap as he knelt beside him. A tear trickled down
his face as he examined the young sword master's withering body. Green tainted
fluid replaced the blood in Gregor's pulsing veins as small pustules emerged
from the knight's exposed flesh, breaking open and burning the surrounding
skin. Boremac brought his hand to his mouth, wetting two of his fingers to
check the knight's breathing, sensing only a shallow flow of air. He moved his
hand over Gregor's open, staring eyes, and drew the warrior's lids closed.
There was no reason for him to see any more death in this world. The rogue
doubted Gregor could feel anything at all.
 
A tiny shimmering point of light rose from the knight's chest, hovering
over Gregor's body as if it were waiting for something.

           
The
rolling thunder of a voice filled with rage flooded the cavern in the next
moment and drew Boremac's attention away from the knight he held and the light
hovering above Gregor's chest. “He who swears fealty to the God of Light as a
Keeper of the Light remains a Knight of the Golden Dragon until the last breath
passes from him in this world! Taste the blades that struck true so long ago,
Siniamadrau, once again blessed with the divine power of the faith of a servant
of the God of Light!” The Tharnorsa raged even as its body turned to stone,
blackened by the holy force delivered into it by Lord Silverwing. The demon's
body was rapidly enveloped with a surge of white light, turning to cracking
stone as the energy traveled up and down its entire form.
 
The demonic head shattered and the burnt
stone it had become scattered across the ground at its feet. Silverwing
appeared on the statue's shoulder and rode to the ground, jumping from one spot
to the other as the pile of broken stone grew below him. All was silent for a
moment, as the last of the demon's remains settled into a pile of small shiny
rocks.

           
“NO!”
Tana's voice broke as she watched the tiny light hovering over Gregor's chest
plate glide through the air into the crimson cloud that now hovered over the
pile of stones that had been the Tharnorsa, brightening momentarily as it
absorbed the crimson mist. Once the mist was gone, the tiny light moved slowly
in the direction of the young dying knight's body.
 
“No!” the huntress repeated, running to kneel
at Gregor's side.

           
Lord
Silverwing came up behind Tana, offering what words of comfort he could. “Let
him go, Tana. The God of Light has seen fit to release his spirit and destroy
the demon for all time. Gregor feels no more pain and he will pass into the
glory of the Light. His spirit will join the God of Light soon.” Silverwing
gestured toward the light hovering over Gregor's still form and made a sign of
blessing to honor his student. “There is nothing we can do to prevent it. Let
him go.”