Thornbear (Book 1) (40 page)

His foe glanced at him, marking his advance, and then dismissed him. Despite his speed Gram couldn’t reach him in time, nor did the rider seem particularly worried. Knowing he would be too late, Gram ran for a large rock that interrupted the ground before him and with a short hop he was atop it. Using his considerable momentum he leapt again, putting as much strength into the jump as he could.

A second bolt of amaranthine power blazed forth, and Gram intersected its path, holding Thorn before him as though he would cut light itself.

Gram’s world fractured and he was flung back. The purple beam had struck Thorn and detonated, shattering the sword and sending him tumbling backward in a parabolic arc. He still held the sword’s hilt, but a shimmering cloud of spinning steel fragments surrounded him.

No!

Gram didn’t have the breath to scream, but his heart cried at the sight of his ruined weapon. He hit the ground hard, pain erupting in his side from the impact, but the damage to Thorn mattered more to him than his bruised and battered ribs. He struggled to rise, but his body refused to cooperate. Gram’s clothing was scorched and burned but the blast had done remarkably little damage to him personally.

As he watched, the sword began to reform. The pieces that had flown apart now coalesced again, fitting together like pieces of some insanely complex puzzle and where they joined, he could see no lines to indicate they had ever been separate. Gram stared at Thorn in wonder, managing to sit up even as he gasped to draw air into his battered chest.

Boots crunched in the gravel behind him. Matthew Illeniel stood close at hand.

“Cool isn’t it,” he said mildly, indicating the sword with his hand.

Gram gaped at him, but he didn’t have enough wind to speak.

The dark rider dismounted and began to walk toward them, “So the spawn of Illeniel has come at last. Your father will regret sending children to fight his battles for him.”

The pressure that Gram had felt before intensified, and Matthew grimaced, a look of concentration on his face. Reaching into a pouch, he withdrew a handful of something that looked like salt and then tossed it into the air. The small crystals spread in the air, floating and spreading out around them. The pressure vanished and the young wizard’s face relaxed, “That’s better.”

The dragon stood behind them, standing unsteadily on three legs. It held one of its forelegs away from the ground, and Gram could see that it was bleeding. “Fly Desacus,” said Matthew. “You’ve done enough.”

The beast didn’t move and though Gram heard no response it must have made one, for his friend replied.

“Just go! Trust me.”

Reluctantly the dragon backed away and then took wing.

Gram managed to get to his feet then. His back screamed at him in protest and it felt as though the damage to his side might be more serious than he had thought, but he could stand. Drawing a careful breath he spoke, “You certainly know how to make an entrance.”

“It runs in the family.”

The air around them flared with actinic light and Matthew’s face took on an uncomfortable expression. The wizard looked at Gram, “You need to put on the armor. I can’t shield us both like this for very long.”

“Armor?”

“I thought I told you.”

Gram growled at him in frustration. “Matt, you never tell me a damn thing! You love surprises like some men love strong drink.”

“The word is ‘tiersen’, say it and focus your will. It’s just like the other commands,” said his friend, ignoring Gram’s complaint.

Gram didn’t bother arguing. “Tearsun,” he said, hoping his pronunciation was close enough as he pushed his will at the tattoo on his arm in that peculiar way that Matthew had shown him before. New metal scales appeared, flowing from the air around the hilt of Thorn and streaming down his arms. They overlapped as they covered him in something that looked like scale mail, but unlike conventional armor they covered everything, wrapping over and around his body like a second skin. Seconds later it was done and looking down Gram could see he was enclosed in gleaming metal.

Touching his face he felt more metal scales there as well, but unlike those covering the rest of him, these were transparent.

“You have to admit that
that’s
cool,” insisted Matthew. The world around them flared again and fingers of magenta power coruscated around them, held back by an invisible barrier.

We’re about to be killed by some crazed monster and all he can talk about is how amazing his latest creation is,
thought Gram, feeling a desperate urgency. “Yes, Matt, it’s goddamn awesome. Do you have a plan?”

The young wizard gestured and spoke a word and the rocky overhang that Gram had previously fought beside collapsed, burying the dark figure that was approaching. “Sure,” he answered. “Run!” Without waiting, his friend turned and began pelting away, racing south, in the direction that Grace and Irene had gone.

Gram watched him run in amazement before belatedly following. Matthew had always been a naturally gifted runner, but he lacked a lot when it came to regular exercise. Gram overtook him in seconds, the energy from Thorn lending unnatural speed to his legs. “This is your plan?!” he yelled.

Matthew was already beginning to breathe hard, “Brilliant right?!”

We’re going to die,
thought Gram. But then, he had already been planning to face that only moments before. “Keep going,” he told his friend. A crashing rumble behind them signaled their foe’s emergence from the rock fall. “I’ll try to distract him. Call the dragon back and get out of here!”

“I’m not done yet!” shouted his insane friend. Searching the path ahead of them desperately Matthew called out again. “See that bush ahead of us? The one next to the funny shaped boulder…?”

“Yes.”

“Try to get him there. I have something that might work. It will take a minute to prepare, but when you hear me yell, get out of the way,” said Matthew. “Got it?”

“Yeah,” answered Gram. “What are you going to do?”

“Something new.”

You and your stupid surprises!
thought Gram. “What happens if I don’t get out of the way in time?”

“Just make sure you do,” yelled Matthew. “I don’t want to have to try gluing you back together afterward.” A new blast of light struck him then and the young wizard went tumbling forward.

Gram stopped and turned. Behind them came a creature from his nightmares. The dark rider had transformed as he emerged from the fallen rocks, growing into the shape of some grotesque, monstrous spider. It raced toward him on shining black legs some seven or eight feet in length. Red eyes glowed on its head and powerful mandibles were matched on each side by massive fangs.

By all the dead gods,
Gram cursed mentally,
what is that thing?
Raising Thorn he prepared to meet its charge. A second bolt of power struck him and the world vanished in a flash of brilliant light. Gram fell, his arms going out to break his fall as he flew back. He feared losing Thorn, but the sword remained stubbornly in his hand as though it had been welded there.
The armor and the sword are one,
he realized.
I can’t drop it.

Rolling to his feet he felt more than saw the sweep of one of the creature’s giant legs coming from one side. Striking sideways he tried to block it, and he felt Thorn hit something hard. Half of one of the spider’s legs fell beside him and he whirled to bring the blade to bear on the creature’s hard carapace.

The sword bit deep and grey ichor oozed from the wound. One of the monster’s forelimbs struck him hard, batting Gram away and to the side. The blow threatened to jerk Thorn from his grip, but since the weapon was somehow attached to him, the force of the attack ripped the weapon free, tearing an even larger wound in the carapace as it came away.

“You dare to attack me, manling?” The alien voice issued from somewhere within the strange spider. “I am Chel’strathek, the Terror of the Night. Your weapon cannot harm me.” The monster’s carapace was healing even as he spoke and its damaged leg had nearly regained its former length.

Gram had recovered his balance and came back at the dark god with a vengeance. The stone in Thorn’s hilt pulsed as it gave him strength. The great sword became a grey blur in his hands, as he cut at the creature, cutting away limbs and mandibles. Ichor flew as Gram’s fury increased.

He had seen his father fight such creatures once before when he was young and helpless to aid him. It was
things
like this that had ultimately led to Dorian’s death. He fought not only the monster before him, but the memory of his helplessness. A sweeping cut sent a giant fang sailing away as it ruined the thing’s head and mandibles. Another leg swept toward him but Gram leapt, up and over it, in an arcing jump that sent him almost ten feet into the air.

Coming down he braced the sword in his hands, driving it point first directly into the spider’s armored cephalothorax. Chel’strathek screamed in pain and bucked, pitching Gram to one side. The sword held him in place briefly before coming loose, and then he fell, unable to maintain his position on the giant arachnid.

Razor sharp legs battered him as he struggled to rise, but they could not pierce his armor. Gram felt himself repeatedly slammed into the ground, until he began to wonder if it would be better to simply stay down. The armor itself seemed impregnable, but the blows were punishing his body within it.

A strange pause in the attacks allowed him to regain some sense of the world around him, and then he saw the reason for it. Chel’strathek had drawn back, preparing another of his strange purple blasts. Scrambling to his feet, Gram narrowly avoided the first sizzling attack and the dreadful magic created a smoking crater in the place he had just been.

Dazed he tried to get his bearings. He had lost sight of the place he was supposed to be taking the monster.
There.
His eyes lit on the bush, but his momentary hesitation nearly cost him.

Amaranthine light enveloped him and his feet left the ground. The force of the blow nearly hammered him into unconsciousness and his armor shattered, flying into pieces just as the sword had when it was struck. His body was a microcosm of pain and his nostrils were filled with the smell of burnt hair and skin. He hardly felt his landing, though the rocks tore away both skin and clothing as he skidded across the rough ground on his back.

Stunned, and blind from pain, he rolled over, attempting to rise to his hands and knees. He could feel the armor reforming around him, but he wasn’t sure it mattered. Another attack like the last and he wouldn’t be able to move.

His right arm collapsed as he tried to put his weight on it. Something was broken there. Gram fell onto his shoulder and then rolled, desperately hoping it would help him avoid the next blast.

His vision cleared and he was dismayed to see that he had been sent flying in the wrong direction. Chel’strathek was more than thirty yards from the place Matthew had indicated, and he was between Gram and his goal. Worse, the dark god was about to launch another bolt of destructive force. Scrabbling to the left Gram managed to get behind a mule sized rock.

The stone exploded, deafening him as it was obliterated, but he had found his feet at last. Running forward he dragged Thorn behind him, still attached to his now useless right arm. He began changing directions as he charged, first left and then right, his legs pumping to drive him across the ragged ground.

Sprinting, he made it past the dark god and headed for the one place that still held hope.

Chel’strathek abandoned his attempts at hitting him with focused beams and as he passed close, the arachnoid god emitted a cone shaped pulse of intense energy, a broad attack that was impossible to dodge. Gram was lifted into the air once more and the world went black as he smashed into something far harder than he was.

“Get up!”

Gram heard the voice clearly, but he wasn’t entirely certain whether it came from within or without. It sounded like his father’s voice. He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn’t.

Everything hurt, but more pressing was the fact that Chel’strathek was preparing to blast him to jelly. The wide cone-like attack had thrown him some twenty feet to the side, but it hadn’t had the necessary power to shatter his armor. Now that Gram was no longer moving the dark god was preparing to remedy that problem.

Pushing off with his left hand he managed to get up and to one side in time to avoid the attack before it came. Seeing more of the terrain reduced to smoking gravel no longer had quite the effect on him that it had had before. Fatigue, injuries, and sheer exhaustion were beginning to take their toll on his reactions. The damned spider was no closer to where he needed it to be, and Gram doubted he could get there before he was completely incapacitated.

Then he had an idea.

It wasn’t his best idea; he would readily have admitted that, if he had had the mental energy to devote to such analysis. Regret would have to come later.

He began running once more, this time instead of heading for the target area, he angled his route to pass between it and Chel’strathek’s current position. He made sure to get close enough that the monster would try his wide cone attack again.

This is going to hurt.

It felt a lot like he imagined it would be if one were to be struck by a charging bull. Once again he was sent into a soaring arc, but this time he landed close to where they wanted Chel’strathek.

He rolled to a stop ten feet past the spot he hoped to get his enemy to, but that would have to do. Movement was no longer a viable option. It hurt just to breathe and he was fairly sure that his left leg was broken. Gram didn’t even bother with attempting to escape, he lay completely still.

I’m helpless now. Come and get me.

As he waited he realized the flaw in his plan. Chel’strathek might choose to finish him without approaching.
Shit.
He no longer had any options.
Surely he’ll get closer since I’m not moving.