Darkness Raging Page 10

  I froze. It couldn’t be this easy, could it? We had been fighting Telazhar, a necromancer, for over a year now, and in that year he had managed to terrorize Otherworld once again. Long ago—thousands of years—he had led the Scorching Wars in Otherworld. He had been responsible for creating the Southern Wastes—vast areas of desert that had, at one time, been unending forest. Like Mt. St. Helens when she blew back over in Earthside, his forces had taken down millions of trees and turned a massive swath of vibrant forest into wasteland. The magic had flown so strong and fierce that it had seeped into the very soil and sand itself, creating pockets where rogue magic flourished—shifting and changing everything that passed through it. Telazhar had annihilated cities and countries back then, before he was caught and sentenced. Queen Asteria had fought for his death, but the Great Fae Lords sent him to the Subterranean Realms.

  And now he had returned, with a Demon Lord standing behind him.

  I glanced over at Camille and Delilah. In the flickering lights from the fires that now raged around us, I could see their expressions. They were staring at the necromancer with blended fear and hatred. We had found our quarry. It was time to end it.

  If we flame him, he will use it against us. Vapor’s whisper crept into my mind. We can rip him from limb to limb, but we have to get that staff away from him. And he wears one of your spirit seals. If you want it, you’re going to have to take it back.

  I slowly slung my leg over his neck. We’ve got this.

  I noticed that Camille and Delilah were doing the same. We managed to time it right and landed to surround the necromancer at the same time. Just what we were going to do, I had no clue, but then Morio came racing into the fray along with Roz, Vanzir, and Trillian. Smoky and Shade stayed in dragon form.

  Morio and Camille joined hands and a brilliant pentacle of glowing purple flame surrounded them. Vanzir held out his hands and long, neon-colored tubes began to shoot forth, heading toward the necromancer’s head. Rozurial swept open his duster and the next moment I saw the magical stun gun in his hand that we’d been carrying around for months now. And Trillian, a glint in his eye, pulled out a thin, long curved silver blade.

  We didn’t bother trying to bargain with him. He knew we were out for his blood, so why waste our breath? Instead, we began crowding in toward him, surrounding him on all sides. And now—on the ground, this close to him—I could see it. Around his neck, the spirit seal. The gleaming sapphire pendant rested against his robe, gleaming with life and power. He reached up to lightly stroke it and the next moment, with a quick flash of his fingers in the air, a vortex began to appear.

  “Demon Gate! He’s creating a Demon Gate!” We had been down this road before with Telazhar and I didn’t want to go there again.

  Morio and Camille lurched forward, his left palm and her right one facing out as they kept their other hands clasped. “Mordente, destavano, del gattius.”

  Their voices thundered through the air and a massive cloud began to sweep up around them, black and shadowed and thick. I hadn’t seen this spell before, but instinct told me I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of whatever they had summoned up.

  Delilah raised her head and stared up at the sky for a single moment before a shimmer flickered around her, and when it died down, she stood there, in her panther form, massive and muscled and furious. To one side of her, I caught a glimpse of a shadowed, translucent form. Arial—Delilah’s twin—a wereleopard—who had died at birth. We only managed to see her in leopard form—Camille and I, that is. But Delilah had met her in the temple at Haseofon where the Death Maidens congregated in their service to the Autumn Lord. They had talked, at length, and eventually Delilah had come to understand how they both ended up with the Autumn Lord.

  We were a poised tableau, including Telazhar, who cagily scanned each of us, only his eyes moving as he looked from face to face. The Demon Gate was forming, and the sly smile on his face told me he was planning on bringing something terrible and big and bad through it.

  Camille and Morio pressed their shadow cloud closer. It hovered around the gate now, waiting. I debated on whether to attack the necromancer, but even as I was about ready to move forward, Vanzir’s soul-sucking tentacles reached the old man. With a blinding flash, Telazhar flicked one hand toward them and Vanzir went flying back a good twenty feet to land inches from his dragon. He rolled to his feet and raised his hands again.

  At that moment, the ground began to shake around the Demon Gate, and I quickly returned my attention to whatever the hell was about to come through. And then—the gate was suddenly full of mist and shadow as a figure stepped through. He was twenty feet tall if he was an inch, a skeleton warrior dressed in ancient armor, wielding a massive sword of bone and crystal. What the hell? A wave of fear spread out from the creature, as tangible as Morio and Camille’s shadow cloud that immediately descended on him.

  “Lychkonneg . . .” Roz whispered, pronouncing it “Lihk-kohn-negg.”

  Holy fuck, I knew what that was. A lychkonneg was a skeletal king, and his touch could freeze the flesh and instill instant hypothermia. He could suck the magic out of the soul, as easily as a kid sucked soda out of a straw. And I knew something else, something I wasn’t sure if Morio and Camille knew.

  “Don’t send your cloud over to him—death magic will only strengthen him!” My voice wasn’t all that loud but when I wanted to, I could make myself heard and right now? I needed them to hear me.

  “Wuucan—attack!” Telazhar’s voice was harsh.

  The skeletal figure turned toward us, a garish grin on his face. He raised his sword and swung it into the shadow cloud, which clung to the blade. Wuucan—the lychkonneg—spread his arms wide, laughing as the energy spun around the blade and up to his mouth, where he sucked it in. It strengthened him—his energy flared as he drank it in.

  Energy vampire, I thought.

  Immediately, Morio and Camille broke off their attack and Morio shifted into his youkai-kitsune demon form, growing eight feet tall, his face lengthening into a muzzle, his nails growing into sharp talons. He let out a roar and lunged forward. Roz focused the stun gun on Telazhar and let loose with it, hitting the old sorcerer in the back. Camille raised her hands, calling on the power of the Moon Mother. As clouds began to pack in over the city and lightning flashed, her eyes grew wide and flecked with silver. The Moon Mother was listening tonight.

  Arial had been sneaking around, and now she attacked the necromancer from the back. As Telazhar lurched forward from the force of the stun gun, the bolt hitting him hard, Arial pounced. I wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she seemed to have done something because Telazhar turned sharply, his eyes wide with the first flicker of worry I had seen.

  A goblin wielding an ax ran in front of him, trying to protect him. That, I could do something about, I thought. I flipped through the air, landing in back of the goblin, though trying to keep my distance from Telazhar. I had no doubt he had plenty of kill-the-vamp spells in his repertoire. The goblin jerked as I caught hold of his head. This was no time for subtlety. I twisted, hard, and the crunch of bones told me that I had done my job.

  As he fell, I grabbed the ax—which was quite a pretty thing—out of his hand and hoisted it over my shoulder. I turned to see Telazhar, with his back to me, fighting Morio, who was bearing down on him.

  I didn’t waste any time but brought the ax back and swept it around as hard as I could in a semicircle. I managed to connect with his back, driving it hard into his flesh. As Telazhar sputtered and dropped his staff, Morio let loose with a long sweep of his talons, raking Telazhar’s torso.

  “Stand back!” Camille’s voice echoed through the fray, and we all obeyed immediately. Any time Camille was dealing with magic and yelled for a duck-and-cover, we had learned to duck and cover. It was bad enough when her spells worked, but if they backfired?

  She held out her hands and a flash of silver raced
from her palms—the Moon Mother’s magic. And the Moon Mother was a direct enemy of Telazhar and all his revolt stood for.

  The bolt hit the necromancer in the head, and for once, her magic didn’t backfire. She drove all her force into it, building it to a high-pitched shriek. As she let go of the silver fire, the ray snaked around his body, squeezing hard. A rumble sounded overhead and then a bolt of lightning raced from the sky to hit him square on. Like water dropped on a hot stove, Telazhar turned to vapor, the spirit seal falling to the ground where he had been standing.

  At that moment, the lychkonneg roared and charged toward us. Just because his summoner had vaporized didn’t mean that we were out of hot water yet.

  Smoky turned toward the towering warrior and, wings back, slammed against him. The warrior was strong, but dragons? Stronger. The skeletal king went down in a shower of bones and sparks.

  “We have to destroy that gate—” Camille looked utterly spent.

  Vapor shimmered into his human form. He walked silently over to the Demon Gate and whispered in a low, guttural voice. A moment later, the gate imploded. He turned back, smiling cagily at me. “I don’t live in the Netherworld for nothing.”

  I stumbled back, realizing I still had the ax in my hands. The sounds of battle roared around us. The dragons were tearing the armies to pieces, and fires blazed everywhere. The air was so thick with the smoke from the dead that it blotted out the sky. As the full impact of the dragons’ carnage soaked into my thoughts, a deep, obliterating numbness crept over me. The blood was running so thick and free that it overwhelmed my senses, and I wanted nothing more than to tear through the crowd, drinking deep.

  Vanzir was standing near me. “Go,” he said. “Feed. You have to or the predator will take over. Go now. I’ll tell the others.”

  Grateful that he understood, I pressed the ax into his hands. “Save that for me, would you?”

  And then I was off, driving forward into the mob. I grabbed the first goblin who came my way and savagely drove my fangs into his neck. When I was done feeding, the blood flowing down my throat, I took another—and another, until the world was a haze of red. Goblins, Fae, it didn’t matter. As long as they were the enemy, I tore into them.

  The memory of what they had done to Elqaneve, to Queen Asteria, to our father . . . the thousands of elves dying . . . it all ran together in one crimson haze. As soon as I drained one, I was on to the next, until they became mere numbers, forgotten as soon as I was done with them. Until I found myself holding one very young boy by the collar. All the others had been seasoned soldiers—goblins mostly, but the boy was Svartan, and he stared at me, terrified. He couldn’t have been into puberty yet—and he began to shake.

  Suddenly coming to my wits, I stopped, fangs an inch from his neck. As I pulled back, I shook my head and dropped him. “Go home. Go home and never take part in anything like this again. The next time, you might not get a second chance.”

  He pressed his lips together and then turned, scrambling away. I looked down at myself. I was streaked with blood; my shirt, my pants, my face was a smear of it. Satiated, able to focus again, I looked around at the rabble that was left.

  Most of the enemy who could stand were fleeing, but the dragons chased them down. Flames lit up the sky and the ground was soaked crimson.

  As I turned toward the city, I reminded myself that we had done this to save lives. If we hadn’t come in, the gates would be overcome and everyone inside would be fodder for Telazhar’s demonic zeal. We were agents of death, agents of chaos, agents of life. Feeling numb and battle weary, I turned and walked quietly back through the last throngs who were doing their best to escape. Along the way, I grabbed goblin after goblin, breaking their necks, feeling nothing as I watched them fall. They were soldiers for the dark, soldiers for the demons. Unlike the boy, they would never look for redemption, or take the chance if it were offered.

  By the time I reached the others, the area was fairly clear. I looked over at Camille as Vanzir handed me the ax. She looked as blood-spattered as I did. We all were, except for Smoky’s infernal ability to keep clean. Nix that. The other dragons who were standing around in human form—Vishana, Vapor, and a couple of others—were also spotless.

  “He’s dead. We have the spirit seal.” Delilah held it up, gazing at the pendant. “One more for our side.”

  Vishana reached for it. “I will take it with me back to the Dragon Reaches and entrust it to the Keraastar Knights.” She paused, then flashed a keen look at Camille. “You must take over their training soon enough. You know this.”

  She nodded, looking as weary as I felt. “I know. I have no clue how, but I imagine I’ll find out the hard way.” She bit her lip. “May I hold that for a moment?” Vishana handed the spirit seal to her, and Camille silently clutched it in her hand. After a few minutes, she handed it back. “I know what I need to know.”

  We waited for her to explain, but she just shook her head and turned away. “It will come in time.”

  Vishana signaled to Vapor. “Take them back to the elves. We will finish the job here. We won’t rest until we’ve hunted down every single soldier and sorcerer that we can find.”

  As we gazed over the thousands of fallen bodies, it crossed my mind that the goblin race had just taken a huge dent, as well. Maybe not as much as they had dealt out to the elves, but big enough. Payback? Their deaths couldn’t begin to atone for what had happened to Elqaneve, but it was a start.

  “Do you think this will put a stop to the incursions over Earthside?” Delilah frowned. “Telazhar probably has offshoot regiments out scouting down rogue portals.”

  “Yes, but the necromancer’s dead, and so are most of his reserves. We can take care of the few who might come through before they find out what happened to their glorious leader. Once word gets out that the dragons destroyed most of his armies, my bet is that the remaining forces won’t be so keen to get involved.” I leaned down and picked up Telazhar’s staff. “What about this? We shouldn’t just leave it lying about.”

  Smoky took it and—with one swift motion—broke it in half. I thought I could hear a faint scream, and then a whiff of shadow spiraled out of the broken ends and the staff lost the inner light that had set it agleam.

  Morio reached out and stroked the wood. After a moment, he smiled grimly. “It’s dead. And he’s dead. I think a bit of his essence remained in the staff, but breaking it did the trick.”

  “Are you sure?” Delilah worried her lip. “We didn’t actually see him die.”

  “The lightning finished him. He’s dead. I felt his spirit vanish into the Netherworld.” Vapor grumbled lightly. “I would have liked to have a bite of him. He was a scourge and he wrought more damage than perhaps any other mortal on this world.”

  I thought about what he said. The Scorching Wars had swept across Otherworld. Tens of thousands and more had died in the wake of Telazhar’s armies. And still more had died with his return. There was no punishment that could have ever been equal to his misdeeds. But he was gone now, and hopefully the Hags of Fate would judge his soul and send him to the abyss rather than let him go around on the circle again. As a blaze nearby flared up from one of the dragons finishing off yet another party of goblins, I suddenly wanted to go home. I wanted out of the muck and the blood and the smoke.

  Camille voiced my very thoughts. “Too much. It’s all too much. Delilah and I fought our way through the fall of Elqaneve. The screams still ring in my head. I stole the shoes off a dead woman so that I could run.” She paused, looking up, her eyes filled with the mist of memory. “I want to go home.”

  “Come, my love. We’ll go.” Smoky moved back and the air around him shimmered as he shifted back into his dragon form. Camille mutely hoisted herself up on his back. Just as silently, Delilah climbed aboard Shade’s back, and when I turned, Vapor was back in dragon form. I accepted a lift up from Morio and settled myself between
the vertebrae. One by one, the dragons we had come in on shifted, and when we were all seated on our mounts, we took to the sky, leaving the carnage behind. As we entered the Ionyc Seas, all I could think about was how much I wanted to see my wife, and how all I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and forget about the rest of the world.

  Chapter 7

  Back at Elqaneve, I checked the time and saw that it was getting close to sunrise. After a quick thank-you to the dragons, I left Camille and Delilah to talk to Trenyth. Roz, Vanzir, and I crossed back over to Grandmother Coyote’s portal. We arrived home with ninety minutes to spare. The moment I got home, I called Nerissa and she insisted on coming over. She sounded like she had been sitting up all night.

  I slung my jacket over a chair and then headed downstairs. I was determined to wash the blood off before Nerissa got home. I peeled off my clothing, piece by piece, dropping it in my tracks, until I reached the shower. I flipped on the water, hot as my skin could take it without blistering. I would heal up from any burns, but I didn’t need to look as rough as I felt. Stepping under the spray, I lathered up my cornrows with a vanilla-scented shampoo that was Nerissa’s favorite. The water streaked down me, turning crimson as it pooled at the drain, then washed away.

  And then everything hit me. I seldom went to pieces—I had learned too hard that you couldn’t let yourself falter or you would die. Dredge had taught me that. He had taught me what pain really was, taking me beyond the limits of what I thought I could endure to the brink of death, then dragging me back to experience more. Every scar on my body, every intricate piece of scrollwork he had carved into my flesh, reminded me of what I was capable of surviving. Even after he had killed me and turned me, after a long night’s torture, and sent me home to feast on my family, I had somehow managed to hold on long enough for Camille to lock me in the safe room. I had gone insane, yes, and it had taken all the resources the Y’Elestrial Intelligence Agency could muster to bring me back to myself. But I had endured. I had survived.