Wrath of the White Tigress (37 page)

Aware of what was happening throughout the room and unaffected by Mardha, Jaska spun around and released a throwing blade, daring to turn his back to Salahn. The blade struck Adynarh in the shoulder. Staggering and surprised, he was unprepared for Ohzikar's last gasp of strength. The templar jabbed upward with his blade and pierced the palymfar captain in the groin.
 

Adynarh fell. Ohzikar collapsed, unconscious and dying.

Then the white-steel sword clattered onto the marble floor.

Zyrella cried out again as Salahn raised his hand and unleashed a bolt of darkfire at Jaska. But Jaska turned back just in time and lifted the white-steel saber. The darkbolt struck it, forked, and passed by him diminished. With a nod from Salahn, the two palymfar beside Zyrella rushed forward. The four remaining who had disengaged from Hyrkas and Lharro charged Jaska as well, forcing him to back away.

 
"I don't know where you got those swords," Salahn said. "But they won't be enough to save you. I think it would be wise to surrender now."

"Never," Jaska hissed.

"You will obey me, Jaska."

"I won't," he replied, overcoming the compulsion.

Salahn spoke another word of command, hitting Jaska's companions again. "Attack Jaska Bavadi," he ordered, and such was his strength that after Mardha had weakened them, they immediately obeyed. Lharro and Hyrkas joined the palymfar. Bakulus and Caracyn rose, drew their swords, and marched forth as well.

"One last warning," Salahn said. "Come peacefully or your friends will die at your own hands." He stroked the back of his hand across Zyrella's neck. "Serve me again, and I shall let them all go, even this one."

"The alternative," said Mardha, "is for us to wear you down and force the binding upon you."

"I'd rather kill my friends now with mercy than wait for you to make me do it with cruelty."

"Come, lover," said Mardha strolling toward Salahn and Zyrella. "Do you not wish to return to me? This bitch could not have given you half what I did."

"What you gave me no man should have, but what she gave me was divine."

Mardha kicked Ohzikar in the face as she went by. "You are quite boring now, Jaska. Not half the man you once were."

He replied confidently, "I am now all the man I should be, good or ill."

"Enough bantering," Salahn said. He looked to Jaska's compelled comrades. "Defeat him, but do not kill him." Then suddenly he glanced about, noticing that his third demon was gone. "Where is the silver falcon?"

At that moment, the white-steel blade dropped by Ohzikar lifted up from the ground, held in the talons of Kyshaiar, talons that grew into silver hands as the Avida-djinn assumed the form of a glowing humanoid. The vibrant being darted forward, blade at the ready. Mardha spun to face her attacker but moved too slowly. She gasped pitifully as the blade impaled her vile heart. By the time she struck the ground, she was already dead.

"Mardha!" Salahn screamed and released all the force he could muster in an emotional torrent of dark energy that streamed toward Kyshaiar, who was charging toward him.

The white-steel blade deflected most of the energies, but some struck Kyshaiar. Zyrella had hoped for a moment that the Avida-djinn would save them. But his form was flickering and dimming. As swiftly as he had shifted to human form, he was a falcon again. Though continuously blasted by Salahn's power, Kyshaiar still managed to fly upward, bright wings beating hard against the baleful energies, with the sword in his talons. He moved toward Jaska and then released it, aiming at his target below.

Jaska had backed himself up to a column so that his back was guarded and his enemies were before him. He dodged and parried spear-strikes from the two Arhrhakim, sword-strikes from Bakulus and Caracyn, and a few well-placed attacks by the palymfar who were content to let Jaska's companions take most of the risk.
 

Jaska was so busy defending himself that he had no chance at counterattacking. Hyrkas stabbed him in the upper arm, the spear point cutting across the flesh to make a shallow wound. This opened him up for other attacks. Caracyn's sword glanced off his shoulder, leaving a shallow cut. A palymfar saber plunged an inch into his thigh.

Gaining confidence, another palymfar lunged forward for a full attack. As soon as he took his first step, the white-steel saber Kyshaiar had aimed and dropped plunged into his back. As he fell and the attention of the others was diverted, Jaska plucked the sword free.

Kyshaiar swooped back up. His power was spent. Salahn's energies overwhelmed him now that he no longer carried the white-steel sword. Kyshaiar struck the far wall and fell as Salahn continued to blast away at him, his eyes alight with fury.
 

Using the second sword, Jaska regained some of the advantage he had lost due to his wound. He was still fighting a losing battle. And once Salahn turned his attention toward him again, it would all be over.

~~~

Zyrella knew she had to act now. "Father, I need you," she said in a voice mimicking Mardha's, and coming incredibly close to capturing it perfectly.
 

Salahn ceased casting his darkfire and turned toward her for a single moment. He turned just enough that Zyrella could reach out her chained hand and touch his arm.
 

She released the spell she had built up in her mind.

His eyes lit with surprise as their valryc heritages intertwined without sexual contact. With a surge, their spirits linked and energies flowed within them both, growing with the exchange, empowering one another.

"Goddess, come to me!" Zyrella shouted mentally. "Come and fill this vessel!"

Zyrella felt the tiny core essence of the White Tigress enter her, a pattern that could grow again, while the majority of the goddess's power would remain within Salahn, maintaining his immortality. Zyrella immediately raised a magic barrier so that this core essence alone would remain with her body, no matter what. Then she uttered the spell of last resort.
 

Salahn pulled away and slapped her, sending teeth and blood across the altar in a spray of crimson. Thrown backward, the chains jerked taut and she fell in a slump on the dais, half-conscious. But the connection between herself and Salahn remained, leeching power from him. Salahn loomed over her with his bagh nakh drawn, but he wasn't foolish. He paused, studied, and then dispelled the connection.

Jaska knew something had happened. Salahn's power over his companions weakened, enough that Jaska could finally do something about it. A palymfar's counters were weak, even for one as powerful as he was. But whatever Zyrella had done, the spell was weakened enough that he had a chance. Jaska chanted the breaking spell while he blocked and parried attacks. Despite a saber slicing across his cheek, he managed to complete the chant.

Hyrkas and Lharro snapped out of the compulsion. Bakulus and Caracyn stumbled away, taking a few moments to regain their wits. Hyrkas instantly turned and skewered one of the palymfar. Then Jaska cut down another before rushing off to battle Salahn.

He found the Grandmaster turning toward him with a grim look. "And so it comes to this, my son."

"You have made me what I am now. You have shaped me into your own death. You should have killed me long ago."

Salahn's face fell. "Yes, but even if you strike me down, I will not regret having taken you to be my son. If a man must be surpassed, let it be his son who does so.
 

"Of course, I don't think you can defeat me. Your friends will do you little good, and this whore," he added, pointing at Zyrella, "has done her best and failed. She freed you to fight me, yes. She even drained a bit of my power away, but not the greater part, not my immortality, and it has cost her."

Jaska looked to Zyrella. Other than the injury from Salahn slapping her, he saw nothing wrong with her. Yet, clearly she wasn't well.

"Let us end it now. Your daughter is dead. Your adopted son has turned on you. There is nothing left for you."

"Oh, but how little you understand, Jaska. I am angered over Mardha's death, but now she is merely one more reason for me to rend the gate that separates mortal man from the Underworld. I shall free my mother and my daughter."

Jaska surged forward. Salahn lifted his hand and blasted forth darkfire. Jaska diverted it by crossing both blades and angling them away from his body. He dodged and deflected three more bolts until he closed to striking distance. He attacked with enough speed to overwhelm even the greatest of warriors, but Salahn dodged aside, avoiding contact with the blades.
 

For a moment, Jaska was stunned. Not by the Grandmaster's speed but by the tattoo of the White Tigress on his chest. The eyes were gone!
 

Salahn spun and kicked him in the chest. Jaska's breath was knocked from him and he was thrown back from the dais. Again darkfire bolts shot toward him. Again he blocked them. Jaska charged, stabbing and cutting. His former master was too fast.

Salahn created a sword of solidified darkfire and attacked. Jaska ducked and darted forward with an overhead strike. Salahn tried to parry with his darkfire sword. The white-steel cut through it. The blade struck Salahn's arm above the wrist and severed the hand.

Salahn screamed and backed away. Jaska closed and attacked furiously, but he only managed a cut on Salahn's cheek, which opened and began to bleed a dark, almost black crimson, as if his blood was corrupted by shadow. The cut and the amputation both should have sealed and begun to heal, but they didn't. Wide-eyed, Salahn now realized these blades could kill him. The prophecy returned to his mind, fomenting doubt.
 

Spurred by anger and fear, his powers surged. A roaring shroud of darkfire immolated Salahn and caught Jaska. The swords shielded him from most of it, but the darkfire still scalded his skin. Salahn punched at him and even though he didn't touch Jaska, the fist that neared him projected a blast of force that flung Jaska down the dais. One sword flew from his grasp and slid across the floor, stopping near Kyshaiar who was perched on the ground, conscious but dazed and unable to fly.

~~~

Jaska's companions were struggling against the remaining palymfar. Bakulus and Caracyn were no match for them. Each had wounds to show for it. But the Arhrhakim, with the training they'd received from Jaska added to their natural strength and agility, were a match.
 

Lharro drove his spear through the neck of one palymfar and glanced over to see his human friends in trouble. He kicked a second palymfar in the back of the knee, sending him downward. This opened the assassin to an attack by Bakulus who stabbed him in the gut with his sword, even as he himself collapsed with a number of minor wounds.
 

Caracyn was in greater trouble. He had slipped after a palymfar attack had left him dazed. As his opponent prepared to dash in, Lharro charged with his spear. The palymfar spotted him and used his saber to turn it aside. Lharro couldn't halt his forward movement and careened into the palymfar, knocking him down.
 

As they fell together, the palymfar's claws, having also been raised to attack, drove into Lharro's stomach. Feeling this success, the palymfar shoved them deeper and then upward as far as he could. Lharro, with a growl of pain, did the only thing he could. He closed himself in tight against his opponent and with his massive jaws bit into the assassin's neck, killing him.
 

Lharro rolled back, struggling for breath. Caracyn scrambled over to Lharro to see what he could do, but he was barely conscious himself. Hyrkas, wielding his spear like a staff, deflected a palymfar sword-strike and battered the palymfar in the face, busting his nose. He glanced to his fallen comrade and saw that the wound was likely fatal.
 

Hyrkas was about to rush over to his old friend, but Lharro saw him and pointed toward Jaska and Salahn.

~~~

Salahn stalked down toward Jaska who could barely shield himself from the now constant jet of darkfire. Jaska knew he couldn't hold out for much longer. But as Salahn neared him, Hyrkas's spear suddenly plunged through Salahn's shoulder, the tip punching out of his back. Salahn staggered. His darkfire flickered twice and then ceased.

Jaska gasped for breath while Salahn reeled and snarled. He noticed then something odd about Salahn's blood as it trailed back to him across the dais. A silver thread was woven through it. It was a familiar trace of essence.
 

As Salahn reached to pull out the spear, Jaska touched the silver thread. There was power in it. The life-force of the White Tigress! The tiny trace of essence she had placed within Jaska blazed to life and connected to the thread. Energy flowed into Jaska and left Salahn fast enough to daze him.

Jaska sprinted and closed in. Even though Salahn was wounded, he recovered and dodged Jaska's attacks just as before. So Jaska feinted, and when the Grandmaster dodged, he grabbed the spear haft sticking out of Salahn's shoulder and jerked him sideways. At the same time, he swung the white-steel saber.
 

The blade struck along Salahn's neck, opening a wound like a second mouth from which spewed black bile.

"My son," Salahn rasped, mustering all his power into a final voice of command. "You must take on my mantle and bring me back. As I promised my mother, you must promise me. We are the same, you and I."

Jaska's eyes blazed white with the power of the Tigress. His qavra lit with the same intensity. "I am Jaska Bavadi, slave to no man, and Wrath of the White Tigress."

Jaska plunged the sword into Salahn's heart.