Sword Play (28 page)

The yellow-haunted sky was a sea of skin and wings and slashing daggers. Up close, Sunbright could see that the erinyes had complexions as chalk-white as those of a corpse, and their wings were not lustrous and sharp like a live bird’s, but dusty and ragged. Nor did they bleed when struck; it was as if he’d sliced leather. Sunbright didn’t strike to kill, in case he fetched Harvester up in a gut or bone, but conserved his strength and slashed to keep them back, for even this attack might buy them precious time to retreat—if there were any place to retreat. The erinyes were not hard to kill, for they were clumsy and crowded one another in the small space before the promontory. But they were so many, a dozen at least, with more flying from holes in the cavern walls, a sky-filling flock of them. Had they worked together and simply dived and plowed into the humans, their prey would have been smothered in seconds, As it was, Sunbright could only wade into the assault swinging his great sword.

Elven blade flashing, Greenwillow stayed close enough to the barbarian to keep them from being separated, yet out of range of the awful scything power of Harvester. With her slim true-steel blade, she aimed surgical stabs: throat, eye, breadbasket, groin. Stricken monster-angels would shrill and drop or fall back or flutter away, for they could feel pain, especially from her blade, which contained elements of silver. Yet never was there a pause in the furious, feathered attack. Always there were more and more targets above, before, below, to the side. Hale and hearty as she was, Greenwillow knew her arm would grow weary long before the beasts’ numbers were exhausted. Before long, she had been nicked on the forearm by a flint knife, sliced across the back of her hand, pinked on the shoulder before she shoved back the attacker with a blade tip jammed into its mouth. Overhead, the black raven flashed amidst the white monsters, striking and pecking at eyes and fingers. But even it lost black feathers that pinwheeled to ignite in the lava far below.

Dancing back a pace for room, Greenwillow saw that Sunbright already bled in four places, including the side of his head below his topknot. Yet he ignored the wounds and watched his enemy, swiping at them so hard that his sword hissed in the air. But he was already grunting with the effort.

From the corner of her eye, Greenwillow saw Candlemas hammering on Sysquemalyn’s chest. Thinking he’d gone mad, she shrilled, “Leave off your stupid feud and fight!”

“I am!” returned the bald mage. “I seek to shatter her mystic bonds!”

Abruptly, the feathered beings fluttered backward. Sunbright’s sword, in one last swipe, ticked only an errant white foot, shearing toes. Immediately the barbarian dropped the tip of Harvester to the stone to rest and panted in great gulps of the hot, fetid air. Greenwillow wiped sweat from her face with her wrist, hissing as the salt burned in a long slash. Both warriors watched the leader of the fiends below.

The mighty pit fiend rolled its lips around its tusks as if tasting something foul. With a wave of clawed hands and a huge puff of wind, it blew the erinyes to either side of the cavern. Many, exhausted and wounded, crumpled like dust balls on the jagged stones and plummeted to crunch on dark rock, or plunged, sizzling, into the lava pit.

Then, glaring at its foes with blazing hatred, the archfiend jerked its hands as if snapping a stick.

The world dropped from beneath the humans’ feet.

Sunbright had only a vague notion of what happened next.

A grinding, crashing, rumbling roar drowned out all sound. Rocks as big as huts were crushed to powder, splintered and shattered on more stones. The cavern walls lurched sickeningly, and fiends of every sort jumped and scampered to get away. The raven squawked and beat the air to gain height.

Only for a second did Sunbright fall; then a giant, invisible cushion blossomed under his rump and back. It vanished just as abruptly, and he crashed painfully, wracking his elbows and butt and head.

Amidst a roiling cloud of ashes and dust, he saw he’d landed on broken rubble. Cracks big enough to trap and snap his leg ran everywhere. Groggily he realized that the pit fiend had reached out with magic hands and yanked down the promontory they’d fought on. The fractured stone lay beneath them in a mound of boulders and gravel, and from under it leaked yellow blood such as Sunbright had never seen before.

But if he and Greenwillow had fallen half a hundred feet onto rock, how had they survived?

“Rouse, rouse!” barked Candlemas. “There’ll be another wave!”

The podgy mage helped a shaken Sysquemalyn to her feet. Her invisible bonds had been broken, Sunbright noted, probably in the shock of the promontory collapsing. And if Candlemas, or Chandler, were on his feet, he must have triggered the spell that had cushioned their fall.

Now they lay at the bottom of the great cavern. Only the pit of boiling lava at its center was deeper, and Sunbright saw a yellow-red jet of it flung higher than the lip, burst, and drop like fiery rain. In the distance, seen through heat waves shimmering over the pit, hunched the pit fiend, shouting and waving and pointing—straight at them.

All around them, the sides of the cavern rose, somehow looking larger from below than from above. And just as populous. The yellow blobs were thicker than fleas. Skeletal warriors toted ancient pitted bronze swords, and spiked imps capered to attack while the surviving erinyes flapped clumsily overhead.

All this Sunbright took in with a glance, though there was much more he couldn’t see, either because the hellish red light flickered too wildly, or because the craggy fissures in the cavern walls sucked up any glow while spilling shadows. That Candlemas could conjure at all was encouraging, for it meant—perhaps—that they were not entirely unprotected from magic.

Then the next wave arrived.

Sunbright heard the word “Lemures!” escape Greenwillow. He had time only to pick a platform—a raised rock fairly flat with gaps all around to slow the enemy—then they were fighting anew.

To Sunbright’s eye, the lemures were pale yellow and half-melted, like badly dipped tallow candles. Vaguely human-shaped, their faces were naught but big black eyes like glass globes and sagging string-strung mouths. Folds of their skin hung in runnels, and long globs dangled from their outspread arms.

And there were hundreds of them.

The first to spill up the rubble mound Sunbright dispatched with his sword. Or so he thought. Aiming high, he smashed Harvester deep into the skull of a lemure to test its mettle. The sword’s heavy nose penetrated deep, popping a black eye to spill gore, knocking the lemure to the ground with a split head. But the wound only spilled a yellow ichorlike pus before it snapped closed…

… and healed.

Quick as thought, Sunbright “killed” another five. He rammed the sword point straight into the mouth of a wretch, twisted to set the hook, and ripped. The lemure sank to blobby knees. A questing hand from the right, the barbarian sheared off at the armpit, so it landed squishily at his feet and flapped like a grounded fish. He slung wide to the right and bowled over another with a half-severed neck, slung left and chopped the leg from another so it toppled on its fellow, rammed again to drive Harvester’s point through one head and pierce another crowding in from behind.

But the first lemure he’d killed had heaved itself up to its hands and knees, shrugged off its fallen comrades, and now stood upright again. The yellow pus had run off its skull; Sunbright could still see a white line from the wound. And the lemure was shorter, having used its own body to rebuild. But it attacked anew. So did another that lacked an arm, but was growing a new one.

And more were coming. The cavern was carpeted in yellow as lemures poured from holes in the ground, caves, or thin air, summoned by the howling pit fiend above the lava pit. Erinyes took to the air to avoid the pustular flood, and skeletal warriors and imps clattered out of the way or were trodden under.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of lemures deluged Sunbright, and none could be killed. His heart almost failed within him. “Staff of Garagos! We’ll never stop these things!”

Surprisingly, a voice sounded by his ear. “Correct! They can regenerate indefinitely! Only a blessed blade can destroy them!”

It was Candlemas, who’d crooked first and fourth fingers to wield some spell from just behind the warrior’s protection.

Sunbright stabbed, hacked, stabbed again. “You enchanted my blade! That day, by the river, with magic potion!”

“That was a lie! You needed confidence!”

Sunbright swung hard enough to almost tag Candlemas. “I need to kill you when we get out of here!”

“I’d be glad to die anywhere outside the Nine Hells!” retorted the mage. Then he hollered, “Duck!”

Hollering “Volhm!” the mage slapped his finger-extended hands together.

Sunbright scooched low, but still a clap of thunder almost bowled him into the mass of lemures pressing him. He was blinded as a lightning bolt scorched the air.

Like the breath of a god, a hole appeared in the packed ranks of fiends. Scores of shuffling, dripping lemures were obliterated, blown to fragments and steam by the fearsome bolt. Yellow glop sprayed in the air and fell like hot rain. The ground itself was charred and streaked, and the acidic stink of burned, undead flesh hit the humans and half-elf like a hammer across the nose. Greenwillow and Sunbright gagged, and even the protected mages covered their faces. The air, already thick with yellow smoke, grew foul enough to cut. Stunned, the nearest lemures paused in their attack. But the hordes behind merely tramped on, climbing over their insensate fellows. More pus was crushed from yellow bodies, until it ran in rivers and spilled into the lava pit, where it hissed and steamed and stank abominably.

In the brief pause before the next wave, Sunbright felt a cool hand on his scraped arm. Sysquemalyn pushed alongside him, hair bedraggled, eyes red, nose running. Over the thud of feet and the wailing of the pit fiend, she yelled, “Keep them back! You too, ‘Mas, and you, elf! I think I can gate us out of here!”

“Why should we trust you?” retorted Sunbright. The wave of lemures was only a dozen feet away, and he frowned as he inspected his befouled blade’s edge. It was dull from hacking through flesh and not-flesh. “You’ve done nothing but lie from the start!”

“That’s the beauty of a crisis! You have no choice!” Despite her begrimed state, Sysquemalyn chuckled, delighting in conflict. Sunbright couldn’t reconcile her with the soul-dead loser whose head he’d almost removed. She meant to say more, but suddenly pushed him forward. “Stop them!”

The hordes of lemures faded from Sunbright’s vision as he beheld a new menace urged on by the screaming pit fiend. Bounding from the very feet of the monster came four or five imps or … Words failed the barbarian. They looked like armored knights, if the armor were made of dried leather, and were studded with tall spiral horns, high arching bat wings, and spikes along their arms and legs. The wings obviously were vestigial, for the fiends jumped in great bounds like manic grasshoppers. Where they landed they crushed lemures by the handful, so yellow gore marked their taloned feet.

All five had been thrown into the battle against the sole living beings in the chamber. Sunbright had time only to shout, “Greenwillow, back to back!” before they were involved in the fight of their lives.

The lemures never fell back, and more were crushed as the imps crashed upon them almost at Sunbright’s feet. Two attacked immediately.

The monsters used no finesse, just brute strength in a headlong charge. Huge brown leather hands studded on the back with bony spikes opened to tear off the barbarian’s head. Resisting the urge to fall back, Sunbright countered with an equally brutal assault. He’d wrapped both hands around Harvester’s haft and tucked it under his right armpit. Now he lunged, straight and true, praying his hobnails didn’t slip in the sea of yellow ooze upon which they battled.

Up close, the imp’s face was a blank mask of leather stippled with spikes no longer than a fingernail. The eyes were blank holes, and when it opened its mouth, the black cavity showed nothing, as if the head were hollow. Sunbright intended to find out. Crowding the monster, he felt the horny hands brush his topknot and clasp shut. But he’d struck.

Harvester’s widened point jammed into the beast’s gaping mouth, struck leather on the far side, and split it. Cranking the pommel, grunting with the effort, the barbarian felt the hook tear as he yanked back toward his gut. Harvester’s barb jerked loose, snagging on the creature’s lower jaw where a lip would have been.

By now, Sunbright was taking punishment from a score of spikes. One leather-clad arm raked across his shoulder, splitting skin with jagged spikes like the teeth of a giant garfish. The other arm slammed him alongside the neck, and he had to hoick his head to the left to keep his windpipe from being shredded.

But at the same time, he twisted Harvester again and pushed, straining sideways. With the hook in the jaw acting as anchor, he scored a deep gash from the imp’s slash of a mouth halfway around its neck. With a heave, he sliced its head half off.

Barging in so close he felt white bone spikes ping his chest, the barbarian shoved to drive his sword down the thing’s throat, then levered the opposite way.

Like gutting a deer, he peeled the imp’s head off.

Only a flap of leathery skin remained at one side of the neck, and the heavy horned head toppled down behind its shoulder. A dry stink like shorn metal welled up from within the fiend, and Sunbright wondered if that represented its spirit, if beings here had them.

Headless, blinded, the imp staggered, stepped back, piled up questing lemures against the back of its knees, and crumpled atop them.

“Sunbright, help!”

He’d almost forgotten Greenwillow guarding his back. He found her on her knees, pressed down by the sheer weight of an imp she’d skewered through the chest. The hilt of her slim sword was wedged between spikes, but the fiend simply flailed at her with horned hands like hard-swung morning stars.

“You have to tear them open!” Sunbright yelled. Unable to dive past the whirling arms, he opted to lunge. Harvester’s spread tip rammed through the leather hide directly beside the shank of Greenwillow’s sword. “Cut the other way!”