Doors of the Dark Page 16

  She smiled to herself and tried to think of a quick plan to deal with the mage.

  ***

  The bandit group attacked as Nera expected when her companions approached the choke point in the road. The dark elves were strangely silent compared to the heavy footsteps and jingling armor of the warriors in her party. She hated to think how loud they would’ve been had they not been trying to move stealthily.

  Nera watched from her position partway up the cave wall, nearly even with the rise where the dark elves had waited. She had slowly picked her way along the edge of the cavern while her friends advanced. Her initial count had been correct—eight of the bandits awaited.

  The dark elves announced their presence with the pair of archers loosing arrows on the group’s position while the five swordsmen swiftly charged. The companions took shelter by pressing up against the ridge of stone with Yosrick and Idrimel keeping their shields raised. One arrow thunked against Yosrick’s shield while the other arrow splintered against a boulder next to Waresh’s cheek. Two more volleys landed but without causing damage before they had to ready themselves to meet the attacking swordsmen.

  Four swordsmen and one swordswoman, Nera corrected herself.

  Athyzon, Arron, Waresh, and Yosrick met their attackers head on. The dark elves were lithe and moved gracefully, their builds comparable to Endira’s, but they had dusky skin and shocks of silver or white hair. Their eyes gleamed like gemstones in the faint light, blues and greens and purples. They carried slender swords and wore some kind of lacquered armor, perhaps fashioned from the shell or scales of some type of monster from the underground.

  Idrimel held her holy symbol up and chanted a quick prayer. Pure white light bloomed from the boulder nearest the priestess, just behind the warriors. The dark elves cried out, trying to shield their eyes from the brilliance. The companions, with the light at their backs, took advantage and attacked.

  Nera returned her focus to the wizard, who had remained behind on the rise. She saw the mage was a female, with long silver hair pulled back in a topknot and eyes of deep violet. She wore maroon and gold robes that shimmered like silk. The two archers had advanced, but they stopped at Idrimel’s light spell and fired two more arrows just over the heads of their comrades.

  One glanced off Athyzon’s breastplate, while the other struck Arron in the bicep. Nera winced as he stumbled, but he quickly recovered, tearing the arrow free and casting it aside. The clash of steel rang out, echoing in the cavern as her friends met the charge.

  Must’ve barely grazed Arron, she thought, surprised.

  A rumbling sound drew her attention. The dark-elven mage had just finished casting a spell. Spikes of stone rose up from the road just behind the companions, cutting off their escape. Nera thought it resembled some great stone monster’s teeth slowly closing on them. She glanced up into the darkness just to make sure a second set wasn’t descending.

  “Ready when you are, Nera,” called Endira telepathically. The elf had hidden herself just out of sight of the battle.

  “Can you break any loose?” Her eyes traveled to a series of stalactites hanging above the dark-elven mage and the archers.

  “Yes, I should be able to. Be ready to strike.”

  “Aye.” From a pouch, Nera withdrew her light rope with attached grappling hook. She eyed a ridge of stone jutting out from the ceiling between her and the wizard.

  “Do it now.”

  Nera instantly conjured her darkness spell between the mage and archers. It expanded just enough to envelop the group. At the same time, she wound up and tossed the grappling hook. Her aim was true, and the calfskin-covered hook lodged in a crevasse overhead without a sound.

  The dark elves muttered in confusion. Just then, about a dozen stalactites broke free from the ceiling with a resounding cracking sound.

  Nera grasped the rope tightly and swung off the outcrop she was perched upon. She sailed out over the cavern floor and witnessed the stalactites plummeting into her darkness spell. The crunching of shattering stone rang out, followed by a shriek of pain.

  She slid down the rope with her momentum and dropped into her sphere of darkness, dispelling it just in time to see where she landed as she released the rope. She dropped the last ten feet, tumbling with her momentum and coming up in a low crouch. The nearest archer had fallen forward awkwardly, a shard of stone impaling him through the back of the thigh.

  Nera leaped over him, slicing his throat with a quick slash of Lightslicer. She whirled and, with a backward stroke of Bedlam Judge, drove the bone dagger through the belly of the second archer, piercing his thin shell armor with ease. He would be dead in moments from the weapon’s fell enchantment.

  She turned to face the nearby mage. Just before she could sling Lightslicer at the dark elf, a glowing orange orb a few paces away erupted into a fireball and blasted her off her feet.

  ***

  Idrimel drew her mace and ran forward to join the battle. She paused a moment to take stock of the action.

  To her far left, Arron was fighting with sword and dagger against a similarly armed dark-elven woman. They stabbed and parried, seemingly evenly matched, feet moving in the graceful steps of a deadly dance.

  Athyzon was faced off with two warriors. He cried out to Sol, and Redeemer blazed with light. His first opponent hissed, squinting his eyes, and the paladin broke through his clumsy parry. The greatsword crunched through his odd breastplate, folding it around the sword. The dark elf cried out and fell to one knee, clutching at the wound in his chest. The second combatant lunged in, scoring a blow on Athyzon’s forearm before he could react to the new attack.

  The runes on Yosrick’s gauntlets and boots blazed with energy as he fought a dark elf with an axe. The gnome slammed his opponent with his shield, driving him back. His hammer scored a glancing blow against the enemy’s hip, sending him stumbling away. The dark elf quickly recovered, his greater agility allowing him to dodge Yosrick’s follow-up attack. The gnome’s miss sent him racing past with his magically enhanced speed. He turned and sprang at his opponent, but the dark elf ducked, and the gnome overshot him, landing a couple paces from Idrimel. He nodded at her before turning to resume his battle.

  Waresh was fighting with a burly dark elf, who she realized was a half-breed of some type. He was much larger and more muscular than the other warriors, seemingly an even match for the powerful dwarf although he stood two feet taller. The dwarf’s opponent wielded a thick-bladed sword of a type she had never seen before. There was little finesse to their battle. The two warriors simply pounded at each other with their deadly weapons.

  Idrimel moved up to assist her brother just as the wounded dark elf surged to his feet in an attempt to stab Athyzon in the back. Idrimel intercepted his blade, knocking it aside, and drove the base of her shield down atop the warrior’s spiked helm. He fell to his knees, and she smashed him in the face with a powerful underhand swing of her mace. The helm flew off, and the dark elf was launched backward before flopping to the ground, mouth and jaw left a bloody pulp.

  Athyzon knocked his opponent’s blade free of his hand, and it clattered across the ground, landing at Idrimel’s feet. Then she saw the reason as the dark elf’s hand had been severed at the wrist. His turquoise eyes were wide with shock as he watched blood pumping from the stump. The paladin brought Redeemer down with a great overhand strike and cleaved his opponent apart from clavicle to belly. The dark elf flopped over, nearly cut in twain, entrails and blood spilling everywhere.

  A shriek drew her attention just as Arron ran his short sword through the female warrior’s chest. They were frozen in a near-embrace for a moment before the dark elf slid off slowly, sword and dagger tumbling from lifeless fingers, her emerald-colored eyes already glazing over. Arron stood there silently, watching his opponent fall.

  They turned to watch Yosrick dart beneath his opponent’s high swing and step past him. He turned and unleashed a blow of his warhammer to his opponent’s lower back. Armor and bone cr
unched, and the dark elf’s legs crumpled beneath him from the blow to his spine. The gnome finished him off with a sickening crunch to the head.

  Waresh and his opponent were locked in the fiercest battle. The larger half-breed forced Waresh’s axe high. His larger opponent’s thick muscles bulged as he pressed the flat of his thick-bladed sword against the dwarf’s blocking axe. Slowly, Waresh was forced to step back from the greater bulk of his opponent. His heel struck a chunk of stone, and the dwarf’s ankle twisted, just enough for him to lose his balance for an instant.

  The half-breed, obviously waiting for such a moment of distraction, whipped his sword free and hacked deep into Waresh’s arm near the elbow, nearly cutting it loose. Blood spewed, and his arm flopped sickeningly to his side.

  Idrimel gasped and started forward to help, but the murderous look in the dwarf’s eyes gave her pause.

  A gauntleted hand gripped her forearm, halting her. “He’s in a battle rage now,” Yosrick warned. “He’ll be as likely to strike you as the dark elf if you try to help.”

  “But we can’t just let him die.”

  “I think he’s too stubborn a bastard for that.”

  As if to prove him right, Waresh seemed to shrug off the grievous blow, roaring in rage. He wielded the axe one-handed, forcing the shocked half-breed backward with his ferocious attacks.

  “What of Nera?” Athyzon stepped up to her other side, peering up the road just as a large fireball bloomed in the darkness.

  ***

  Nera found herself lying flat on her back, rubble from the shattered stalactites digging painfully into her side. She sat up, shaking her head to try to get the cobwebs out after being tossed off her feet from the concussion. A circle of fire surrounded her, and the intense heat crackled and singed her leathers, but the heat couldn’t harm her. As she regained her feet, she could feel her hair stirring against her neck from the heat of the magical flames. She squinted against the brightness but couldn’t see the mage.

  With a handful of throwing knives ready, she strode through the wall of flames, unhurt.

  The wizard stood a short dagger’s toss before her, a pleased look on her face. Her smirk abruptly evaporated when she saw Nera before her, unburned. She muttered something in the dark-elven tongue and raised her hands to cast again.

  Nera slung the three throwing knives. They whirled through the air but deflected off an unseen force just inches from the mage’s face, not totally unexpectedly.

  “You chose poorly, mage. Should’ve chosen ice or lightning.” Now it was Nera’s turn to smirk. She patted out a glowing ember lodged between her belt and her leather breeches. She could’ve made a pincushion out of the mage, save for the magical shield.

  The wizard began intoning her next spell. Unwilling to find out what she was about to unleash next, Nera made her move. She rushed forward, long daggers back in hand. Lightslicer pierced the wizard’s magical shield. The keen dagger lopped off three of the fingers on the dark elf’s left hand. The mage shrieked in pain, her spell disrupted, and clutched her wounded hand to her side in a vain attempt to prevent blood spurting from the stumps of her fingers.

  Nera stabbed with Bedlam Judge, piercing the mage’s other hand, which had been outstretched protectively. The bone dagger slid through the palm of her hand to the hilt. When Nera pulled it free, she could see the corruption spreading already, turning the dark elf’s dusky skin an unhealthy gray with white streaks.

  The dark elf shrieked and fell. Within moments, she began convulsing uncontrollably.

  Nera stood over her fallen foe for just a moment before cries of rage drew her attention back to the battle. She ran back down to help her friends, but they all seemed to be well, having only sustained minor wounds, with the exception of Waresh. The dwarf was roaring in blind rage and madly hacking at his opponent, somehow ignoring his own wounds. His left arm hung uselessly at his side, and Nera’s eyes widened in shock as she saw it hung from a strip of sinew, blood gushing everywhere.

  “That mad bastard has gone berserk,” she muttered. “Someone tell Waresh to stand down!”

  ***

  Waresh battled on, not feeling the grievous wound in his left arm, which had been nearly severed at the elbow. He only knew it wasn’t responding as needed. Blood pumped from the wounded arm, but he clutched Heartsbane in his right fist, raining blows down upon the burly half-breed warrior. His opponent’s thick blade fell, battered from his grasp. Heartsbane cleaved through his hand and forearm as if splitting a log. Blood erupted as the dark elf’s arm split in twain, and he fell with a scream of pain. Bones glistened as blood pumped from a severed artery. The next blow hacked into his thigh, severing his leg from his body.

  The red haze had enveloped Waresh fully, protecting him from the pain of his injuries even as it drove him on relentlessly. The dark elf’s shell breastplate cracked and split as the axe drove hard into his rib cage. His opponent lay motionless, clearly dead from his dire wounds, but he kept hacking at the body.

  “Waresh!”

  The voice barely registered. He raised Heartsbane again. A strong hand clamped onto his uninjured wrist, staying his blow. Waresh roared in fury, wrenching free. The axe nearly struck his own leg as he staggered off balance in his downswing. He whirled on his attacker.

  Athyzon stepped back in shock when he saw murder in the dwarf’s eyes. “Waresh—hold!” he shouted.

  The paladin’s features were murky in the haze, and Waresh saw only another attacker, one trying to subdue him. He swung, and Heartsbane impacted with Redeemer with a resounding recoil of magic that sent both warriors stumbling back a couple steps, dazed. Waresh’s boot came down on the dark elf’s severed leg, and he slipped in the blood, falling onto his backside.

  A cool presence cut through the haze, sweeping it aside like a gust of wind clearing out dust from the trail. He blinked stupidly as he saw his companions staring at him in shock. Endira stood over him, leaf-green eyes filled with concern.

  “That bloodthirsty bastard would’ve cut you down just like those dark elves, mate,” Arron said to Athyzon, his hard gaze on Waresh.

  The dwarf grunted in surprise, lowering Heartsbane, not sure of what had just occurred.

  “Don’t just stand around,” Nera snapped. “That thick-headed bastard’s arm is about to fall off. Idrimel, can you heal it?”

  Nobody made a move at first, watching Waresh warily. He released Heartsbane and lay down on his back, lightheaded from blood loss. He knew he was grievously wounded, perhaps mortally, from the vast amount of blood coating everything, soaking through his breeches and tunic beneath his mail. “I’m good now,” he grunted. The faces around him swirled.

  The last thing he saw was Nera’s burning eyes peering down at him before darkness closed in.

  ***

  Endira slumped to the ground, clearly fatigued from her use of powers. “I’m glad I was able to get through to him. He would’ve bled out and not even realized it.”

  Yosrick sat down near her and removed his gauntlets and boots, examining them and preparing to recharge his enchantments. He spared a wary glance for the comatose dwarf, who was being administered to by Idrimel. “What is he, a berserker?”

  “I think not, but I’m not sure. He seems to be in the grip of some other influence, but I would have to probe his mind to investigate further. I don’t like the thought of that without consent.”

  “Well, I don’t like the thought of him going mad and trying to hack us to pieces like he did that poor bastard of a dark elf.”

  Nera walked back over, her face tired. “Looks as if Idrimel will be able to patch him back up, fortunately for him.”

  “This one is a problem,” Athyzon announced. He stood close to his sister, as if afraid Waresh would leap up and strike her down at any moment. “He is unwell, susceptible to becoming lost in a battle rage like that.”

  “He did take quite a wound there. Doubtless, I’d be pretty angry as well,” Nera replied. “Although I’d probably drop dea
d from the shock before any other thoughts crossed my mind.”

  “You wouldn’t be far enough gone to attack your friends, though.” Arron watched Waresh with eyes narrowed, as if puzzling over a move in a game of tiles he didn’t care for.

  “Aye, that I wouldn’t. We don’t have much choice at the moment. Why don’t we keep an eye on him and get to this damned crossroads as quickly as possible—and hopefully without any further combat.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I saw something like this before, when he pursued me back in Nexus. Fighting seems to chase what little sense there is clear out of his thick head.”

  “For most men, that happens when too much ale is followed by a particularly fine set of tits,” Arron joked. “Sometimes the latter is sufficient if impressive enough.”

  Nera laughed halfheartedly and was joined by Yosrick. Endira shot him a cool glance.

  “Aye, Brother,” Nera said, “but that one has some other issues, clearly. Let us take the opportunity to rest for a bit.”

  ***

  After resting for a couple hours, Nera was ready to be back on their way but wanted to make sure the others had recovered. She took a drink from her waterskin and regarded her companions.

  Idrimel sat on a broken piece of stalactite a short distance away, face weary. Her helm lay beside her, and despite her platinum hair being matted down, it still shone like liquid metal in the light from her spell. She had admitted to Nera it had taken her most powerful healing spell to mend Waresh’s arm. Her brother stood near her, and they were conversing quietly.