The Children of Urdis (Grimwold and Lethos Book 2) (44 page)

Two massive talons slammed down on two of their heads. The solid feel of them each in Lethos's massive palms was satisfying. He crashed the two heads together between his hands. The Tsal did not even have time to react before their helmets flung away and their skulls cracked. The gratifying give of their shattering bone beneath his hands made him roar with pleasure. The hot gush of the contents of their skulls flowed through his thick fingers.

The Tsal collapsed, and Lethos slashed out to the left.

A shield blocked his strike, but his fist crumpled it along with the Tsal behind it. He tumbled aside, not dead but out of the fight.

Avulash screamed, leaping in with his violet sword blazing with swirling runes. Lethos glimpsed him just as he turned in time.

The blade sank into his thigh, sawing through thick layers of fur and muscle. His blood gushed and his entire leg went numb with pain.

Yet he did not care. He roared, whirled on Avulash as red flecks hazed his vision, and swiped at the Tsal captain. Avulash jumped away, flying backward up the rocky slope and abandoning his final warrior to Lethos's attentions.

The last Tsal struck for this thigh as well, and though his sword glimmered with a violet sheen, it lacked the keen edge of Avulash's blade. This sword turned on his iron-hard flesh, and that was all Lethos needed. His horns itched for flesh, and he lowered his head to jamb one long horn into the neck of the hapless Tsal. He tore up, ripping the throat open and sending the Tsal flying back. Bright red blood arced high into the air as the Tsal sprawled out in death.

Lethos lumbered around to face the other Tsal he had thrown aside. His leg wound caused him to stumble with burning pain, but it only made the red haze narrow his vision until all he saw was the single, hateful face of the Tsal with the ruined shield charging him.

But rather than raise his weapon, he opened his mouth.

Lethos flattened out on the ground. He had no idea why, but trusted his instincts.

In the next instant, a gout of flame licked over his back. He could feel it singe the tips of his black hairs. The fire-breathing Tsal stared in disbelief, and seemed to inhale for a second blast.

Lethos shot to his feet, again faster than his bulk would seem to have allowed. He brought his horns up low, catching the Tsal in the chain links beneath his iron breast plate. The horn sunk easily through the links into the soft flesh beneath. Hot blood rolled onto his head, and his horn felt the satisfying resistance as it drove deeper and pulled higher into the abdomen.

The Tsal jetted blood from its mouth instead of fire, and Lethos hefted it bodily atop both his horns. Then he shook his head and sent the corpse of the Tsal flying aside like a broken doll. Ribbons of pink entrails followed it as it slammed into the rocky ground.

Lethos turned again, stumbling to his knee from his wounded leg. He felt hot, like he was burning up from the inside. His vision continued to fill with red haze, and the demon that lived within him threatened to consume his mind. He did not care, not now. What was there to hurt on this island but Avulash? His four cronies were now lifeless piles of meat. So much for the invincibility of the mighty Tsal. They died as easily as normal men.

Blood began to stream from the wound on his leg, flying over the grass to where Avulash stood. His palm was extended and he absorbed the blood with casual ease.

Lethos spun around as if he could cut of the flow, but the blood wrapped around his calf like a red silk ribbon.

"Your blood is mine one way or another, beast," Avulash said as he stood patiently draining him at a distance.

Lethos bounded to him in two leaps. Avulash's dismissive expression turned to horror as he realized Lethos was upon him. He backed away, the spell that drained Lethos's blood broken.

Yet when Lethos landed, his leg caved and he fell before Avulash. He could feel the itch on the back of his thick neck where he knew Avulash's blade would strike.

He swiped out with his arm, slamming Avulash away just as he raised his sword. Lethos felt himself grow dizzy from the sudden loss of blood. The cut was deep, but it only leaked blood like a minor cut, a function of his supernatural powers. Without Avulash to actively pump it out, his blood would remain his own.

"You are hurt, beast," Avulash said as he stood. He raised his palm again. "And one cut is all I need. Your blood already strengthens me."

Beneath his palm he felt a rock press into his flesh. Without a second thought, his massive claws had extracted it from the earth and he flung it at Avulash.

The stone slammed into the Tsal's head with force enough to shatter it. The Tsal, however, were seemingly impervious to the mundane like rocks or normal weapons. But the distraction and the force was enough to give Lethos his time.

He roared again and stood, then crouched for a leap. His bound brought both of his horns cleanly into Avulash's guts.

Blood flooded his face as he flung the Tsal captain's body into the air.

Avulash came down yards distant, bounced with a splash of blood, and then fell still.

The island had grown intensely silent, as if the world held its breath. Lethos paused, the red haze retreating even as gore and guts dripped down his face into his muzzle.

He sniffed the air, smelling blood everywhere. Was Avulash dead? He did not stir.

Lethos set one massive hoof forward, expecting Avulash to rise and continue the fight. The body remained flattened in the grass. A second step. A third. Nothing.

He had done it. He had killed all of these Tsal. There was nothing left to them. He wanted to roar in delight, to dance with someone in celebration. Yet the bull demon clung to him, and it still hungered for more carnage. This had been too easy.

Without warning he was spiraling through the air.

Winds and debris scoured the island, flashing out of nothingness into berserk violence that lifted his massive form as if it were no heavier than a dead leaf. He was spinning head over hoof and circling around so that he had to close his eyes or else go mad. Avulash's laughter boomed like thunder.

He felt himself spinning and whirling through the air, carried as swiftly as if he were flying on Kafara's back once more.

Then the burning pain assaulted him. It flared through his body, tearing into his flesh. He crashed into something level and hard. It was a stone floor. The wind had dropped him on a crenelated tower. Snowy mountain peaks surrounded him and in the distance the ocean shimmered beneath the flat light fighting through storm clouds.

A second whirlwind deposited Avulash opposite him. The Tsal captain's stomach was ripped open and his intestines hung on his lap as he leaned against the wall. Despite his horrific wounds, he was laughing.

"Impressive," he said, his voice weak and breaking. "More than I ever imagined you capable of achieving. I am proud to be the one to defeat you. Truly a worthy foe. But a beast nonetheless."

Lethos wanted to rise, but he had no strength, and though no flame touched his body, he felt as if he were consumed in fire.

"You manage to keep your wits about you yet?" Avulash said. He stuffed his guts back into the cavity of his stomach. As Lethos stared at him through hate-clouded eyes, he watched the wound seal. Avulash laughed again.

"The wild stone will kill you yet."

Lethos lifted his heavy head and glanced over his shoulder. Just to look at it burned his eyes.

A huge chunk of black wild stone pulsing with streaks of glowing yellow sat in what seemed a bronze bowl. Its power was flowing into him, burning him from the inside and soon to burst him open like a wine skin filled past capacity. Even if he could siphon the power off into Grimwold, too much poured too fast. Straight from the source, the magical radiance was too much for him.

Avulash struggled to his feet, blood dripping from his torso but the wounds now gone. He leaned heavily on the wall, and rubbed the blood from his face with the back of his wrist.

"I will enjoy watching you roast from the inside out."

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Syrus kept his back to Valda as she finished wearing her clothes. She had not asked him to look away, but propriety dictated he give her some measure of privacy in this small room. He instead studied the strange tools that were laid out on another table beside Valda. These were fastidiously clean metal objects. The purposes of the tools were too obscure and seemed only designed to inflict pain. Yet they were laid out in neat rows as if organized by need or function. The glowing blue globe that Syrus put next to them reflected a dozen times across all the tools.

"Thank you for coming for me," she said. "I assume Lethos and Grimwold have come as well."

"Only Lethos," Syrus said, still facing away. "Grimwold went to find your brother who had fled. Both are now missing."

He remained facing away but Valda's silence was louder than anything she could voice. Syrus rarely hoped ill for anyone, but Thorgis's cowardice had once again brought them all great danger. He hoped Grimwold used his power to break Thorgis's will and then banish him or worse. It was a cruel thing to think, but such fools as Thorgis were dangerous to everyone.

"You may turn around," Valda said. Her face was red with either anger or fear, but she seemed as vibrant as ever. One hand lingered over the cut at the base of her throat, tracing the edge of it. "How did you get in here?"

Syrus told the entire tale and showed her the symbol on his chest. She winced at how her loyal crew had died, but she did not judge him for it. Syrus was glad she reserved any criticism, for his guilt was heavy enough.

"I could paint the same upon you," he offered. "We have to get out of here yet, but not until we retrieve your father's book."

Valda shook her head. "I see the value of that mark, but I will not have my body tainted with Tsal blood magic any more than it already has been."

His face grew warm, and he fiddled with the tools rather than look at her. "You've no memories of what happened after your capture? Where Avulash took the book?"

"They dragged me down here, then removed my clothing. I thought I would be raped, but Avulash and his men had no interest. They forced me to drink something bitter and cold. Then I only remember awakening but being unable to move, like my back had been glued to the table."

Syrus pulled up the strange blade that had opened the secret compartment. It had been set alongside the other tools. "Did they react when they found this on you?"

Valda frowned and removed it from his hands. "I don't remember at all. I never saw what happened to the book, and we've no time to search for it."

"It will show us how to disable the beacon."

"Avulash wouldn't have put it back in the same place," Valda said, now moving to the door with the ceremonial dagger in one hand and the blue globe in the other. "Searching will only get us caught again and waste your bravery. Obey me now and worry for your goddess later."

The casual order was a like a slap that awakened him from mindless obedience. "I must be too exhausted to think straight. Of course you are right."

She led him into the hall and after a moment picked a sloping path upward. She whispered as she led him out of the darkness. "If Lethos is battling Avulash, then we have to get to the top of the highest tower. The wild stone will be there, according to what you've said. We have to cut it off so that the Tsal won't draw strength from it. Lethos will need all the advantage he can get."

"But how do we cut it off? It is a good plan, but I never learned how to block the power the wild stone radiates."

"It was blocked on the ark," she said. "So there is a way."

Valda was thoughtful as she slowed down at the end of the passage. She held up a hand to signal that he wait. Squeaking, whining voices echoed down the hall. The blue globe in her hand seemed to blaze like a bonfire. She looked at it and then set it on the ground. Without a word, she swooped forward again with the ceremonial blade out.

The darkness engulfed them, and Syrus ran his hand along the wall to keep his bearings. Valda made just enough noise to follow her toward a rectangle of light.

Once they reached the edge of that light, they peered out to a courtyard filled with dozens of the red and black-skinned slaves. They stood transfixed, looking up at the sky. Syrus could hear the moan of the whirling storm clouds that passed overhead, and the slaves uniformly cowered beneath these.

"Lethos is in there," Valda said.

"How do you know?"

She did not answer. Instead she leaned out the door to survey the path toward the far side of the courtyard. Syrus could see the double door opened into the blackness of the main fortress. Within would be the passage and stairs leading to the top of the tower.

Only the courtyard was clogged with the inhumanly strong slaves, any one which could break Syrus and Valda with no effort.

He was about to ask for Valda's plan when she revealed it. She held the dagger out and stepped into the courtyard.

CHAPTER FIFTY

Lethos could no longer see anything but white pain. He could hear nothing but the roar of blood in his ears. He felt nothing but a seething, rippling burn that wove beneath his flesh. His mind held no thought other than escape.

But there was no place to flee.

Avulash had dropped him in front of the wild stone. The force of magical radiance from such a large chunk was like sitting beneath an enormous waterfall.

Lethos was dying.

Yet deep within him, somewhere in the field of searing white agony, something else roared.

A demon or spirit, something that used the primal form of the Minotaur to manifest itself in the world, was unwilling to sink back into the mist realms from where it had been called.