Mark of the Fool 6: A Progression Fantasy Epic, page 74
Alex glowered at the demon. ‘Just be careful, Claygon,’ he said, pointing his staff at the fiend, and in rapid succession, shot Elder Blodeuwedd’s mana-draining symbols at him. The glyphs covered the demon’s form, and power drained away.
“You!” He whirled, burning eyes boring in Alex’s direction. “What have you done to me? You will reg—Argh!”
Kyembe leapt, flaming sword slicing metal repeatedly. Smoke and steam billowed as molten iron streamed down the monster’s legs.
The greater demon was shrieking, backing away, but the summoned creatures and constructs blocked its line of sight, holding it off-balance. Alex had learned much from fighting Zonon-In in the Crymlyn swamp.
In truth, Yantrahpretaye—even with enhanced speed—wasn’t as fast as she was, and he was also severely outnumbered. Ezerak’s army, and Alex’s tide of monsters were far more distracting than the witches’ few trees were.
Claygon was faster, stronger, and tougher now, and Zonon-In’s own war-spear was his. Kyembe was fearsome, and his hellfire did its work with every stroke.
And Alex, armed with his aeld staff, had more options than in the Crymlyn. Draining their enemy’s power was one of them. They also had to keep the demon busy and stop him from having too much time to think.
Burning wounds were spreading across its body from Kyembe’s sword-staff, while Claygon’s war-spear was biting deeper and deeper into Yantrahpretaye’s metal. His mana was draining, and he was slowing.
‘Any time now,’ Alex thought. ‘We finish him off and—’
Mana suddenly surged. The demon’s eyes flared, steam leaking from his joints.
His metallic gut yawned open, exposing a chamber of whirring gears, wires, and spinning mechanisms.
Behind those?
The light of flame grew.
Heat billowed as the air scorched. Alex gasped, his eyes tearing. “Everyone back, he’s gonna—”
“Father!” Claygon shot in front of Alex.
Kyembe leapt back…
…but too late.
Yantrahpretaye’s core exploded, his joints spraying the hallway in flame. Alex screamed, the hall ignited, and his clothes caught even as he hid behind Claygon.
Somewhere below, Kyembe screamed and the aeld staff screamed with him.
Thundar shouted in the distance.
Alex’s eyes stung from light and heat.
And then the flame was gone.
Shuddering, Alex fought for air, the scent of burning cloth filling his nose.
“Father!” Claygon cried, his head turning. “You are burning!”
“I know!” Alex shouted, channelling mana from the smoking staff.
The young aeld staff emanated waves of pain and terror as he used it to call a water elemental. Bubbles appeared, gurgling in surprise.
“Put out the fire!” he cried.
The water elemental gurgled, spraying cold water, dousing his smouldering clothing and staff. Relief spiked from the aeld.
“Thank the Traveller, you’re alright,” he murmured, trembling at how close he’d come to death.
But what about the others? How were they?
He peered through a rising plume of smoke in a panic.
The summoned monsters were gone, some of Ezerak’s beasts were now nothing but greasy stains on the stone.
There was no sign of Kyembe at a—No.
No, that wasn’t true.
There, in the smoke, a body burned, gripping a sword-staff still covered in hellfire.
Down the hall, the blast had hit the others.
Ezerak was pulling himself to his feet. Burns ran over his flesh, though his magical tattoos had protected him from the worst. Guntile was desperately slapping at herself, snuffing out burning clothing. Thundar looked like he’d landed in a bonfire, but—still chanting affirmations—he fought on. Ripp had ducked behind the demon horde and was spared the worst of the explosion. He now chopped through them, blades flying.
At his side, the inhumanly tough Celsus fought on as though nothing had happened. His armour steamed, but he had not slowed. Nor paused.
Groaning, Ezerak was raising his sword and striding toward the fiends, monsters leaping off his skin.
He was buying the team more time against the demonic horde. Some of them had burned, but not all. Many were protected by their natural resistance to flame.
Then Alex’s eyes widened.
Where was Yantrahpretaye?
His eyes desperately searched the hall. The greater demon had vanished.
Where the hells was h—
A whoosh of air saved him.
On instinct, he shot forward, shouting as pain burned across his back. Another impact struck him from behind, blasting the air from his lungs.
He flinched as something in his side broke. Pain exploded through him from head to foot when he hit the ground floor full force. The aeld staff flew from his hands and Bubbles tumbled away.
‘Father!’ Claygon shouted, flying toward Alex.
The young wizard’s vision swam. He was dazed and everything hurt.
‘Watch… out!’ his mind screamed a warning.
Behind Claygon, the greater demon emerged from the smoke.
Yantrahpretaye’s claws were raised, poised to strike the golem. Claygon’s head abruptly swivelled one hundred and eighty degrees, unleashing a fire-beam directly into the demon’s face.
It howled, slashing at Claygon, leaving deep gouges before kicking him away. The demon floated through the air, ringed in flame. Its mana had weakened, but what was left still raged like a storm-struck sea.
And it looked right at Alex. “I can smell your heat, mortal. Taste your life force in the air.”
A rope of flame coiled around his hand.
Stones cracked in his damaged face, exploding where they struck.
“Get away from him, you bastard!” Guntile growled, her hands whipping stones like hail. “He’s not dying until we get paid!”
The demon glowered down at her. “You’re next—”
There was a terrible clang of stone on metal.
Claygon rammed Yantrahpretaye from the side—driving the war-spear deep—shearing the demon’s metal body.
The two giants spun through the air, crashing to the ground, shattering stone.
Alex flew away, toward his staff, his movements unsteady as the titans grappled across the fractured floor.
The weakened wizard was barely able to raise his staff. He blinked rapidly, clearing his vision, searching for Guntile.
“Throw me a stone!” he choked.
“What?” she cried. “If it hits you, it’ll explode!”
“I’ll catch it…”
“But—”
“Trust me! Just throw it!”
The half-orc drew her arm back and whipped a stone at Alex. He marked its arc, using the Mark and—though his side screamed with pain—he snatched it from the air, then raised the frightened staff, drawing out the power of Call Through Ice. He fixed his eyes on the metal demon.
That strange power rose inside him.
Something felt different now.
Deeper.
More urgent.
Chapter 98
Terrible Tearing of Metal
The hidden power intensified, begging to be used.
Its energy was more potent than ever, flaring in his gut like a lump of burning coal.
Alex called on Call Through Ice, casting Guntile’s stone through the gateway into the elemental plane of cold. Icy wind raked his face from the open portal, and as his inner power sang, he could feel the exact path of the stone travelling through the planes.
He kept his eyes fixed on its destination: the two titans wrestled before him, shredding stone tiles like paper. As Yantrahpretaye grappled with the golem—taking repeated fire-blasts to his face—a steam-shrouded gap in the demon’s metal plates caught Alex’s attention.
An elbow joint hissed, releasing steam.
His timing had to be precise as he teleported the explosive stone into the gap.
Yantrahpretaye shifted his grip on Claygon.
The space slammed shut, crushing Guntile’s stone between metal plates, shattering it.
The explosion rolled through the hallway.
Yantrahpretaye screamed as a hole tore open in his arm, billowing smoke and whistling steam. Shrapnel whined through the air, cracking on the corridor’s walls, punching deep into a nearby statue of Kaz-Mowang.
Fragments struck Claygon—some buried in his polished surface—but he never flinched.
They could wait; after all, he had a demon to kill.
Straddling the enormous fiend’s chest, the golem stabbed Yantrahpretaye’s side with his war-spear, pinning him to the ground.
Two of his hands rose, balling into fists.
The demon whined, eyes flickering in shock.
Claygon’s fists fell.
He hammered Yantrahpretaye in a storm of thunderous blows, denting metal and caving in armoured plates. If he’d been flesh, his bones would be ground to dust and his bulk would now be smeared across the stone.
But Yantrahpretaye was made of sterner stuff.
Even as his plates buckled under Claygon’s assault, he fought like a cornered animal. The metal demon’s jaws cracked open, vomiting a cloud of smoke and sparks into the golem’s face, blocking his vision.
Yantrahpretaye drove a blow into Claygon’s core, throwing him off and—with shocking agility—leapt to his feet, whirling on Alex.
The young wizard was channelling blood magic, working to soothe his wounds.
Burning eyes flashed in the demon’s metal skull as he favoured his damaged arm. “You cracked my arm, little filth. Bathe in the blood of a thousand horrors.” Yantrahpretaye spat a cloud of steam.
Alex clenched his will.
Something slammed into his mind like a bone-charger barreling into a wall. Hundreds of blood-curdling screams ran rampant through his thoughts, threatening to drive him to terror and mania, but he pushed back, mental affirmations fighting through the demon’s magic.
The fiendish power died and his heart leapt.
The demon loomed before him, claws raised, ready to deliver its deadly stroke. Alex tried diving to the side, but the claws had already swung at his head.
A noise reached his ears. The sound of flame hissing and metal breaking rang out.
The iron demon screamed. A blade—burning in white hellfire—seared his lower leg.
The wound gaped, as did Alex, looking ahead with unbelieving eyes.
Behind the demon, Kyembe stood his ground, burns covering his lean body, his teeth clenched.
Crimson eyes burned as he twisted the haft of his sword-staff, parting hot metal, forcing the wound wider. “I still live, wretch.” His face contorted in an expression that was half-snarl and half-smile. “You will not say the same.”
Another scrape of melting metal hit the hall as Kyembe wrenched the blade from the demon’s leg, and molten iron gushed.
The Spirit Killer struck in a flurry spurred by fury. His weapon shredded the demon, iron shards and boiling metal flying with every stroke. Yantrahpretaye reeled back, his claws flailing as Kyembe chased him, tearing ever deepening wounds into their enemy.
Alex had thought the mercenary dead. How couldn’t he be dead after bearing the impact of that explosion? However he’d survived, the young wizard was very, very grateful he had.
But how long could he last with those devastating burns?
Alex considered what to do.
His eyes darted to Celsus, Ripp, Thundar, and Guntile fighting the tide of demons, hitting them hard. Yet, their numbers remained endless, despite Ezerak bringing his army as well his sword against the horde of fiends.
‘It’ll be me and Claygon, then.’ Alex reached out to his golem. ‘Claygon! Focus on the demon’s joints with your spear. I’ll try and drain more of his mana. But if things get bad, take a chaos bomb from your satchel, prime it, and toss it down the hall. Then get Thundar and the others and get out of here as fast as you can.’
A wave of anxiety emanated from the golem. ‘Are you… sure?’
‘That’s only if we have to,’ Alex thought, flying toward Kyembe. ‘Only if we have to.’
Yantrahpretaye swiped at the Spirit Killer, who danced through the demon’s attacks like a bird on the wing, his burning blade slashing its metal shell. Steam spurted from its wounds, burning Kyembe, but he didn’t waver. The demon was slowing; the jarring noise of his gears grinding as his body moved was a welcome sound.
His mana was draining.
“Wretches!” he howled. “I—”
Claygon hit him again, his war-spear digging a trench deep in the metal. Yantrahpretaye wheezed a great cloud of smoke as Alex flew behind Kyembe, casting Mana to Blood. He pressed his hand to the lean man’s back. “You’ve got him!” Alex shouted. “And I’ve got you! Keep it up!”
“I was not planning to stop and let him gut me, my friend!” Kyembe barked a sound between a cough and a laugh.
The Spirit Killer swung the sword-staff in a deep draw cut, chopping Yantrahpretaye’s leg as his strength returned.
Flame hissed.
Yantrahpretaye bellowed.
Kyembe’s blade sheared the iron demon’s leg, severing most of his calf and foot. The body parts hit the floor, spewing molten metal as gears inside ground to an abrupt halt.
“Good… work!” Claygon shouted, focusing his war-spear on the demon’s damaged elbow.
Then he twisted.
Metal on metal sheared another limb, spinning it away, it clattered to the floor, whirring then falling still.
“You mortals are a plague!” Yantrahpretaye hissed in rage. The air shimmered with heat. “I will not tolerate you further!”
The demon reached its hand toward Alex’s allies fighting the horde in the hallway.
An unseen wave of power struck the air.
“He’s going for our metal!” Alex cried, shooting into the air. “Watch him!”
“No, not our metal,” the demon taunted as Claygon ground his spear into his hide. “Just one of you.”
Something heavy hurtled through the air.
Celsus’ fully-armoured form struck Kyembe with bone-shattering force, knocking the Spirit Killer from his feet. The two men tumbled, rolling to a stop in a pile of limbs.
Kyembe groaned, spitting blood, struggling to get to his feet. His breath came ragged, and his eyes were dazed.
Celsus kipped up to his feet in one move, no worse for the wear.
With a sweep of his mace, the warrior charged the greater demon, whose attention was now on Claygon.
The golem pushed the demon to the ground with full force, but Yantrahpretaye’s eyes homed in on his war-spear. His power clenched, and suddenly, the golem was in a struggle to keep hold of the weapon. The war-spear fought him, trying to fly free.
He grappled with it as Yantrahpretaye levelled his stump at him. With a hiss, molten iron belched out, drenching the golem.
Cooling steam blasted Claygon, solidifying melted iron to his stone form.
“Get away from him!” Alex roared, conjuring a pack of ice elementals with the aeld staff. They materialised beside the iron demon, drenching him in frigid energies, but he twitched his neck to one side.
Magnetic power washed over the metal partly covering Claygon, shooting him high into the air, then driving him downward like a falling star.
“Oh shit!” Alex leapt aside.
His golem landed atop the ice elementals, sending them back to their home plane. Claygon tried to rise, but the demon’s power kept him pinned to the ground.
In the struggle, Celsus reached the fight.
The armoured mercenary jumped, landing on Claygon and charging up his side like he was ascending a ramp, then he sprang directly onto the demon.
His mace swung. There came a series of cracks from the demon’s body. Celsus smashed the enormous weapon into Yantrahpretaye’s face, splintering it.
“Get away—!” The demon breathed a cloud of scalding steam into the warrior’s face… but Celsus did not flinch.
Again and again that mace came down, caving in Yantrahpretaye’s face.
“Get off me, fiend!” the demon screamed.
Magnetic energy pulsed.
Flesh tore.
“Oh no…” Alex cried, climbing to his feet.
Spikes—both outside and in—grew, covering and lining Celsus’ armour plates. Terrible metal barbs extended, driving into the warrior’s flesh.
Yet, Celsus did not cry out.
He simply kept crashing his mace into the demon, blow after blow.
“Die!” Yantrahpretaye roared. “Just die, curse you!”
Another wave of magnetic energy swept the air. The spikes grew longer. Blood spurted from the warrior’s visor. Still, he did not falter. His will was impossible. Any mortal should have been dead. Yet, Celsus continued his unrelenting barrage.
There came a crunch and spray of flame. The demon screamed as the towering warrior crushed one of its burning eyes. With his remaining hand, the demon swiped at Celsus in desperation, driving his metal claws through the mercenary’s armour and into the flesh below.
Blood flowed, yet he fought on, punishing the demon even as he weakened. Red leaked from his armour and his weapon shook in his hand. He swung again, dealing a crushing blow.
Yantrahpretaye shrieked.
Magnetic power poured through the air, claiming much of his waning mana.
Celsus’ armour imploded, crushing the man within. The mercenary’s body stiffened, then went still, his mace dropped from his fingers, hitting the demon’s face one last time.
Slowly, the warrior’s still form slid off the demon as Alex sprang forward to catch him.
His mind reeled as he laid Celsus on the stone.
First, he was struck with shock.
Then sadness.
Then rage.
Deep, abiding rage.
Growling from deep within himself like a caged beast, he flew toward Claygon’s satchel. ‘I’m teleporting a chaos bomb right into this piece of filth’s damn guts, Mark or no Mark!’ he thought.
He neared the golem, then his world stopped, drowning him in a river of scalding steam. It washed over him in waves. Alex screamed, dropping to the ground, pain covering him, nerve endings in agony, his skin burning even through his force armour.
