Chapter
Twenty
Selyn planted her feet. Once again she parried her opponent’s powerful thrust. Power rushed through her body, and she reveled in the sense of it, the knowledge that she and her blade were a single unit, fighting a foe who was larger and stronger, yet no more able—even with the added edge of demonic possession.
It was good. So damned good that she
almost laughed at the bloodied guard before her. Grinning, she
wondered what move to make that would irritate him even further
before she vanquished him in battle.
She had no doubt she was going to win.
She had right on her side. Right and Dawson Buck. She glanced his
way, hoping to catch his eye as he fought not ten paces
away.
And as she looked, everything slipped
into slow motion.
Taron’s blade practically eviscerated
his opponent. The guard went down, flailing wildly. His leg shot
out, catching Dawson behind the knee. As Dawson fell, his own
opponent thrust wildly, scoring a perfect hit that buried his black
sword deep in Dawson’s left side.
He made not a sound. No, the scream
Selyn heard was her own. “No! Dawson, no!” Screaming again, Selyn
pivoted out of reach of her opponent’s strike. She grabbed the
jeweled hilt of her sword in both hands and swung her blade,
throwing every bit of the love she felt for her fallen man behind
the powerful strike.
With sleek and sure intent, she easily
beheaded the bastard she’d been fighting. Oblivious to the sounds
of Taron taking out the demon she’d just freed, of Alton and Ginny
finishing off the final guardsman, she ran to Dawson and knelt
beside him. Carefully, she pulled the obsidian blade from the
gaping wound in his side and tossed the damned thing
away.
It shattered and turned to black dust,
becoming nothing more than a stain upon the floor. Gently, Selyn
took Dawson’s blade from his lax fingers and lay it on the ground
next to her own. Ruby red beside diamond bright.
The obsidian blade had pierced him
deeply just beneath his heart, a wound much too deep for
anyone—human or Lemurian—to survive. Blood welled from the gash in
spite of the pressure she forced against his side.
Ginny knelt beside her and ripped off
her purple hoodie. “Use this,” she said, folding it into a thick
pad. “Put more pressure on the wound. We’ve got to stop the
bleeding.” She glanced at Alton. “Is there a healer you can call?
Anyone?”
Selyn glanced hopefully at Alton, but
he stood there with tears in his eyes and HellFire’s blood-soaked
tip pointed at the ground, shaking his head. “No one. Not with the
battle raging. There are probably many injured. Even if I could
find one amid the chaos, a healer could not help him. I fear it’s a
mortal injury, one that would end even a Lemurian’s life. Humans
are so much more fragile than we.” He sighed, closed his eyes a
moment, and then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Selyn.” His voice
broke as he knelt beside them. “So gods-be-damned
sorry.”
With an almost preternatural calm,
Selyn nodded. Alton was right. There was no point, no time, no way
to save the man she loved. Already she knew it was too late. The
flow of blood was slowing, not so much from the pressure she placed
against his wound, but because his heart no longer beat, no longer
forced blood through his arteries.
Screams and shouts from the great
plaza echoed along the passageway, and it was obvious demons still
poured into Lemuria. She heard a battle cry go up, and knew that
Artigos the Just and his women warriors and armed wardens had
arrived. She had no doubt the battle would be won. She had to
believe they would win. There was no acceptable
alternative.
But Dawson wouldn’t live to celebrate
their victory. It was too late for him. She stared at the red stain
coating her fingers and knew his blood no longer flowed. No breath
escaped his slightly parted lips.
His eyes were closed. Those beautiful
blue eyes. She’d never see them again, never feel the joy in their
sparkle, the heat in his heavy-lidded gaze.
Never again. She brushed her fingers
over the soft beard that covered his jaw, and thought of the way it
felt against her breasts, her belly . . . her thighs.
Never again. Would he remember her,
wherever his soul finally found rest? Did Lemurians and humans
share the same afterlife? She had to believe they did.
She could accept nothing
else.
Slowly, she traced the line of his
jaw, the curve of his lips. How
odd, she thought. He has a
smile on his face.
What had he been thinking at the
moment his soul passed over? What did he see as he entered the
afterlife? Old friends? Family? Would he wait for her
there?
How long could one be expected to
await an immortal?
How long must she wait, before
choosing to make that final leap herself? She wanted to join him.
She had to. There was nothing left for her here. Nothing at
all.
“Ginny?” Alton rose to his feet,
moving like a very old man. “Do you wish to stay with Selyn and
Daws? Taron has to close the portal to Abyss and I have to fight.
The battle rages, and every sword will be needed.”
Selyn raised her head, and her voice
was strong and steady. She’d not wept for Dawson. Not yet. His loss
wasn’t real at this point. Her grief was so far beyond imagining,
she’d not truly reacted to his death, still could not accept an end
to the man she loved. “Your sword will be needed as well, Ginny.
I’ll stay with him. Please. Don’t waste this brave man’s death. He
would not want that.”
Ginny nodded in agreement. Her face
glistened with tears, but she carried about her a look of resolve
that could not be ignored. “His death is not wasted, Selyn. Never
think that. We’ll be back as soon as we can.” She brushed a thick
lock of Dawson’s dark hair back from his face. “He’s a hero. He
didn’t ask for this fight, but he’s never once turned away from it.
Nor from us.” She leaned over and gently kissed his
forehead.
“You’re a damned good man, Dawson
Buck. A brave warrior and a true friend, and the only man I know
who’d ever think of hunting demons with a vacuum cleaner.” She made
a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob, and brushed her arm
across her eyes.
“We have to go.” Alton held out his
hand. Ginny took it. Taron offered a brief salute, and then, within
moments, Selyn was alone with Dawson, listening to the sounds of
battle and the harsh rasp of her own ragged breath.
She clasped his hand and knew the
warmth would quickly leave him, which made her want to hold him
tighter, to wrap his body with hers and keep him warm.
To think she’d found love, only to
lose it so quickly. Selyn ran her fingers through the thick, dark
hair curling around his face and wasn’t quite sure how she should
feel. Grief was too simple a word to describe the sense of loss,
the emptiness and utter devastation that seemed to have taken over
her mind, her body . . . her soul.
He was gone. There was nothing left
for her. No reason to fight on, no desire to continue. She’d
finally discovered love, barely tasted the joy to be had with a man
who had seen her as someone other than a slave. He’d thought she
was a woman of worth, of value.
Without him, did she still have value?
It was impossible to know. She folded her legs and sat beside him,
watching the still perfection of his face, remembering the way he’d
kissed her and held her, the way he’d laughed with her. Dawson had
taught her the joy to be had between a man and a woman in
love.
At least she had that to hold on to.
To help her remember.
“Take his blade and lay it across his
chest, ruby crystal to living flesh.”
“What?” Selyn’s head whipped around.
She searched for the source of that voice speaking so clearly in
her ear. A flash of blue light caught her eye, and she glanced at
her sword. It glowed, pulsing with life.
“Quickly, before life flees. Lay his
sword across his chest. Now.”
With shaking hands, Selyn ripped
Dawson’s shirt open. Buttons scattered and fabric tore as she
parted the fabric over his bloodied chest. Then she quickly placed
the ruby sword across his body, so that the blade rested over his
heart.
The moment the blade touched Dawson,
red fire flashed. Light poured from the ruby facets, filling the
small cavern, enclosing Dawson in a crimson explosion of cold fire
and brilliant, shimmering shafts of light. Selyn tried to watch,
but the glow was blinding. She covered her streaming eyes with her
arm and turned away.
Long moments later, the light dimmed.
Selyn slowly turned around. Breathless, unbelieving, she looked
into Dawson’s dark blue eyes. He blinked slowly, as if coming awake
from a long and restful sleep.
When he finally focused on her face,
it was as if she snapped out of a trance. “You live! Dawson, you
live!”
Blinking, obviously confused, he
struggled to sit up. Selyn didn’t take her eyes off his face, but
she grabbed his sword from his chest, set it beside her own once
again, and then wrapped her arms around him. “You were dead. I saw
you die, but you’re alive!” The tears flowed now as she held him
tightly, sobbing, kissing his throat, his lips, his perfectly
healed body.
“I saw Aunt Fiona.” He frowned as if
he tried to recall what had just passed. “She said it wasn’t my
time, that I had to come back.” He glanced at his left side, and
Selyn knew it was the place where the blade had slipped between his
ribs, through his lungs. There was no mark. Nothing but smooth,
healthy flesh and a smear of dried blood.
Holy shit!
Where . . . ?
She’d never heard his thoughts before,
yet suddenly they were as clear in her mind as if he’d spoken
aloud. She almost laughed, listening to his thoughts as he glanced
around.
Damn it
all. Where’s my sword? Shit, I hope I didn’t break
it.
Selyn shook her head, but she couldn’t
bring herself to turn him loose. No, my
love, she said, answering him telepathically.
It wasn’t your Aunt Fiona who sent you
back, and your sword is here. Beside you. Your blade saved you.
It’s right . . .
He gazed at her in shock. “I hear you.
In my head. But how?”
She kissed the shock right off his
face. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Your blade saved your
life. Maybe that changed things in you. I don’t know for sure, but
you’re alive!”
She clasped her own sword and looked
at it with wonder. “And mine spoke to me. She told me to place your
sword across your chest, and I did. And you came
back.”
Her blade glowed and pulsed with life.
“I am called StarFire, Selyn of Elda’s line. We will do well
together.”
“StarFire?” Selyn barely whispered the
name, and yet she felt the connection, the sense that this blade
was more than a mere weapon. Much more.
Dawson stared at the swords with a
look of utter bemusement on his face. Selyn glanced at the floor
beside him. A crystal blade glowed and shimmered just like hers.
There was no trace of red within its crystalline facets, yet she
knew immediately it was Dawson’s. “Here,” she said, pointing.
“There’s your sword.”
He shook his head, obviously confused.
“But it can’t be. My blade is red. Ruby red.” Even so, he reached
for it, wrapped his fingers around the jeweled pommel, and lifted
the weapon. “It feels right. I don’t understand. What
happened?”
“I am DemonsDeath. I was not prepared
to lose you, Dawson Buck. It was not your time to leave
us.”
“Holy shit.” Clutching the blade, his
head snapped up, and he stared at Selyn. “The damned thing really
is alive. How?” he asked, addressing his blade. “I was dead, wasn’t
I?”
The sword glowed and pulsed with life
and light. “Very close. I sacrificed chromium, the element that
gave me color, to bring life back to you. You have a greater
purpose, Dawson Buck. It was necessary to recall your spirit. You
will live long and fight many battles beside your
woman.”
As if those words snapped him out of
whatever dream he’d been trapped in, Dawson scrambled to his feet.
He tossed aside his ripped shirt so that he stood there with his
chest bare and his worn jeans riding low on his hips. Drying blood
covered his side and soaked one leg of his pants, but he was whole
and strong and ready to fight.
Selyn gazed up at him, loving him more
than she’d ever imagined possible.
A series of cries rang along the
passageway. The sound of warriors engaging in battle, of women
screaming and demons wailing those eerie, terrifying banshee howls.
Dawson grabbed Selyn’s hand. “None of this makes sense. Right now,
I feel as if I must be dreaming, trapped in some alternate universe
where nothing is as it seems, but damn it all, Selyn, as long as
you’re with me, it’s all good.”
He wrapped one arm around her
shoulders and pulled her close, kissing her hard and fast. When he
ended the kiss, he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes.
His eyes absolutely glowed, and the smile on his face was one of
pure joy.
“We’ll figure it out later,” he said.
“But right now, we’ve got a war to win.”
Selyn linked her fingers in his. “I
love you,” she said, and for some odd reason she felt like
laughing.
“I love you, too. Now move!” He took
off, tugging Selyn behind him. She stretched her legs and caught
up, and together they raced along the passage, away from the empty
prison cells, into the midst of hell.
Artigos the Just paused at the final
portal, the one leading into the levels where the free folk
lived—the one that would put him, once again, among his
people.
And yet he’d never once set foot in
this new Lemuria. Had no real idea what Lemurians were like
anymore, how they functioned as a society, who their chosen leaders
were, what their politics were like. All he knew were the bits and
pieces of information he’d stolen from people’s minds over the
years. Mere snips of what Lemuria was like in this modern
era.
Would they even remember him? His son
had led Lemurian citizens ever since the great move from a dying
continent—led them with a mind ruled by demonkind.
Artigos knew many in the Council of
Nine must be compromised as well, and, if what Selyn and Dawson had
reported was true, his grandson, the one he’d hoped would support
his claim for leadership, was currently imprisoned in a jail cell,
along with those who’d sworn their allegiance to the
man.
Unless, of course, Dawson and Selyn
had succeeded in freeing them. So much depended on
luck.
Luck, and skill, and the power of
crystal.
He glanced behind him, at the men and
women standing ready to fight—willing to lay down their lives for
an old man whose time might have already passed. Their amazing
loyalty alone should give him the strength to move
forward.
’Twas not luck that gave them the
courage to stand behind a once-proud king. No, it was loyalty to
Lemuria and the magic of crystal that empowered this small but
magnificent army.
With that thought in mind, Artigos the
Just stepped through the portal and left his thousands of years of
imprisonment and exile behind him.
Stepped away from his lost life, into
unimaginable chaos.
Men and women running in blind fear
crowded past. Many were bleeding, covered in deep scratches and
bites. Screams rose all about them, and the stench of demonkind was
thick within the halls and tunnels of this strange, underground
world.
Light overhead reminded him of the sky
he’d not seen for thousands of years, and yet the light was false,
manufactured by technology he’d heard was long forgotten by the
people who still made use of it.
Wisps of black sped by, pursuing the
Lemurians who’d just passed. Artigos caught the hint of talons and
sharp fangs before the wraiths disappeared down the long passage.
The stench of sulfur remained, a foul stink he’d never
forget.
Demonkind. But how? There were demon
wraiths here, inside Lemuria? He’d expected to fight against
possessed Lemurian guards and possibly members of the Council of
Nine, but demons flying free, aggressively attacking Lemurian
citizens? Demons obviously capable of inflicting injuries while in
wraith form?
That hadn’t been part of his
plan!
He turned as his army spilled through
the portal. Men and women took their places, lining up along the
tunnel. For now, the panic-stricken flow of Lemurians had ceased,
though screams and shouts echoed in the distance.
Artigos stood tall and gazed at the
anxious faces of the men and women before him. “I have no idea what
scourge we face, but there are demons herein. Go forth and fight
bravely. Not for me, not for any ruler, not for any political party
or ideology. No. We fight for our world, for our people, for
Lemuria!”
He raised his sword high, as did each
of his soldiers. The shout rose, loud and clear from many voices,
from former slaves and the formerly possessed.
“For Lemuria!”
Light flashed from the shimmering tips
of blades joined, and then shot along the tunnel, a brilliant arrow
of energy flying in the direction of the sounds of
battle.
Artigos watched the light, tracked its
direction, and gave a mighty shout. Then, raising his sword, he led
his army down the trail set by crystal.
Eddy leapt into the thick mass of
demonkind with her blade flashing and snow falling all around. She
was careful of Mari—the most amazing, magical Mari—standing tall
within the mass of wraiths, still chanting her spell. Blood ran
down her arms from long, deep scratches, and her face was marked as
well, but Darius fought beside his woman like a man possessed, and
he protected her as best he could.
With Artigos, Dax and Eddy helping,
they managed to clear a space for Mari, but the wraiths kept coming
and the snow kept falling, and Eddy couldn’t help but wonder how
long they could hold out.
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to
happen! She and Dax were supposed to take Artigos and Gaia and join
the fight in Lemuria, but here they fought on Earth’s soil, and the
demons continued to arrive in an unending, unrelenting
stream.
Were Ginny and Alton all right? And
what of Dawson and Selyn? There were others as well, Roland and his
men—brave men who worked within Lemuria, fighting not only
demonkind but their own government, their own leaders. Did Alton
still hold the chancellor’s position? Did Artigos the Just truly
survive?
She’d not asked the prior chancellor
Artigos about his father. Not yet, though that question could not
be put off forever.
Neither could her attention to the
fight! Sharp talons raked her arm. Eddy ducked away from a demon
with more form than most. She caught a quick glance of teeth and
eyes and a long, forked tail before the foul creature shrieked and
disappeared into the falling snow.
“Dax? What’s going on? They seem to be
gaining strength, not growing weaker.” She glanced his way. He
ducked beneath a pair of demons, but still managed a
shrug.
“I don’t know.” Frustration leant an
edge to his voice as he slashed DemonFire through that foul, oily
mist, leaving a trail of flames and sparks behind. “Mari’s spell is
supposed to slow them down, not make them more
vicious.”
What the hell was going wrong? Eddy
felt the emotional tug of her sword. DemonSlayer? she asked. How can we help Mari?
Her blade’s familiar voice whispered
in her mind. She needs the power of
crystal. Touch your blades to her body, your hands to her flesh as
well. Share with her of your life force. Empower her to tap into
that great well of strength that lies within your
world.
Hookay . . . that wasn’t quite what
she’d expected. Eddy reached high for a demon, caught it with her
blade, and watched with grim satisfaction as it shattered and
scattered into foul smelling sparks. In the lull between attacks,
she passed on what her blade had told her must be
done.
“DemonSlayer says Mari needs more
power, from us and from our swords. Touch your blades to her
shoulders, your hands to her body. Share what you can to strengthen
her spell.”
No one questioned her instructions.
Eddy pressed the flat of her blade to Mari’s back and rested her
hand upon her friend’s shoulder. Artigos, Dax, and Darius did the
same, connecting Mari to their human and Lemurian life force as
well as to the power of crystal.
Mari shuddered, as if she’d been
jolted by a powerful shock, but her voice never
faltered.
“Demon’s spawn in dark of night,
I charge you—lose your will to fight.
Be thou afraid. All, rush to flee!
Return to Abyss. So mote it be.”
Again and again she repeated her
spell, a simple rhyme that was merely a framework to hold the magic
she was still learning to control. But now, with the power of
crystal, with the strength of her companions’ life force, there was
a ring to her voice that hadn’t been there before.
Now, as she chanted the simple words,
the dark wraiths milled about. They seemed confused, as if unsure
of their goal. Mari stood tall and unwavering, though she’d held
her arms aloft now, had spoken her spell continuously, for over an
hour.
Eddy felt the drain on her energy and
knew she fed into Mari’s. It was the strangest feeling, as if
something were being sucked out, and yet at the same time, that
power was being replaced. DemonSlayer? Was her sword finding the
balance that allowed her to give without giving up, to share of
herself without depleting her own reserves?
“Mari?” Darius sheathed his sword and
pulled Mari into his arms. She stumbled into his embrace, but he
caught her as her legs gave out.
Eddy blinked and looked around, aware
the snow had stopped falling, that the sky was actually growing
lighter as the cloud cover thinned. How long had they stood out
here in the freezing cold?
And why wasn’t she freezing? Had
Mari’s spell kept them warm as well? “Are they gone? I don’t see
any demons.” She sheathed DemonSlayer, noting that the light of her
blade had dulled. She looked up at Dax. He blinked as if he were
just waking up from a long sleep. Artigos leaned on his yellow
sword, and his breath came in deep pulls that left a frosty cloud
in front of him.
Darius brushed Mari’s hair back from
her face. “You did it, my love. You ran the bastards off.” He
leaned close and kissed her.
Mari shook her head. “Barely.” Her
voice cracked, as if she fought tears. “I couldn’t have done it
without all of you, your energy . . . life force, whatever it was
you shared with me. Thank you. But they’re not gone for good.
They’re growing much stronger.” She held up her arm and stared at
the blood running from her wrist to her elbow.
Eddy noticed that all of them were
covered with numerous small cuts and bites. What looked like
insubstantial smoke had enough solid form to inflict injuries. All
of them were bleeding.
Spirit opened the door and stepped out
onto the porch. Bumper raced past her and sniffed the ground, her
tail wagging full speed. “I’ve got coffee on and a late breakfast
cooking,” Spirit said. “Come in, clean up. Get some food and some
rest. You were all absolutely amazing.”
She hugged Mari. “I’m so proud of you!
Even covered in scratches you look powerful. Sweetheart, you are
truly a skilled and powerful witch.” Spirit chuckled and wrapped an
arm around her daughter’s waist. “My daughter the witch. I never
dreamed this would come to pass.”
Laughing, Mari grabbed Darius’s hand,
and they headed inside with Dax and BumperWillow following. Artigos
brought up the rear, but he’d not spoken since they’d joined the
battle and seemed unusually quiet.
Eddy stopped him at the door. “Are you
okay?”
He raised his head and stared at her
out of eyes clouded with grief. “I’ve brought this on, haven’t I?
How can I ever forgive myself, much less ask my people to forgive
me?” He stared down at the yellow crystal sword grasped tightly in
his hand. “Will my son ever forgive me? My father?”
Eddy gazed at the man who had
literally condemned an entire world by his actions, and yet it was
difficult to lay all the blame on his shoulders. After a moment,
she focused on his sword—a sword that had served him well
throughout the long night.
“Crystal won’t serve a warrior it
doesn’t respect. If your blade feels your heart is true, isn’t that
what matters? And won’t your people, the ones you love, accept
that?”
Artigos raised his head and frowned.
“It has served me well, but it has not yet spoken to me. I have
much to prove before my blade feels I am worthy.”
Eddy smiled and linked arms with him.
“Then I guess you just need to keep doing your best, don’t you
agree? You’re certainly not going to prove anything by wallowing in
self-recrimination. Or, by missing one of Freedom’s really good
breakfasts.”
She tugged, opened the door, and they
entered the house that way, linked arm in arm. The sun was breaking
through the clouds behind them, casting its light over the
snow-covered peak of Mount Shasta. Eddy glanced over her shoulder
as Artigos shut the door, and wondered how they could get to the
nearest portal and find their way to Lemuria.
How in the hell were they going to
stop this blasted invasion that kept expanding in numbers as well
as strength?
The feeling that Alton and Ginny
needed their help grew stronger by the minute. The sense that
everything depended upon the battle she knew must be underway, deep
inside the mountain in Lemuria.
Eddy wandered into the big, bright
kitchen and glanced up as Dax handed her a cup of steaming coffee.
Her dad grabbed the remote and turned on the small TV sitting on
the counter near the table, slipping through channels in search of
local news. Finally he found a familiar station.
They all gathered at the big kitchen
table while Freedom brought platters of eggs and fried potatoes,
bacon and sausage, and hot cornbread right from the
oven.
The plates were passed and food
consumed, but everyone’s attention remained focused on the news.
After a few minutes, Eddy frowned at her father. “Nothing. No
reports of strange happenings, possessed creatures or wandering
statues, nothing. Are the demons coming here, focusing on this
house and nowhere else? What’s going on?”
“I think it’s my fault.”
“Mari? Why you?” Gaia reached across
the table and covered Mari’s hand. “You’re making spells to weaken
them, not call them. Why would you think such a
thing?”
Mari glanced at Darius.
He leaned over, kissed her softly, and
sighed, but he was nodding his head in agreement. “Last week,” he
said, “when Mari chased off the demons that were invading her mom’s
shop and attacking Leland, Matthias, and me, a ruby geode exploded
in the midst of her spell. We didn’t realize until then that
something about the ruby crystals in the geode had been calling the
demons to the shop. We don’t know why they were attracted to it.
When the geode exploded, one of the crystals lodged in Mari’s
heart. It’s still there.” He covered Mari’s hand with his. “The
crystal in her heart gives her immortality, but it might also be
giving off a signal, one that attracts demons to her.”
Mari gave Eddy a rueful smile. “Sort
of a good news, bad news thing. The good news is I’m immortal. The
bad is the fact that demons are drawn to me, no matter where I am
or what I’m doing. Because of that magical crystal, I’ve become a
magnet for them, a veritable lodestone for demonkind. If they’re at
all near, they’re going to come looking for me,
first.”