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The BloodVaine EpicChapter 90: Demon-Slayer
The Yellow Castle shook. Stones and mortar fell from the ceiling, and the tiny panes of glass in ornamental windows fissured like ice. BloodVaine stood in the center of the throne room, his eyes ablaze. Aezezal was staring into space, seeing things beyond the castle walls.
“They have both been destroyed. The Arklyndelys Vulondur and the Dawn of the Ages have destroyed one another. Del Grakken has been killed. Nearly all the dragons as well. The enemy is at the gate, BloodVaine. And you haven’t enough magic to kill a holiday pheasant.”
“What do you suggest?” BloodVaine’s voice was shrill, on the sharp edge of madness, “I am ruler of all Dametreos! I will not let them win!”
Below them, the heavy thud of a battering ram struck the outer keep door. It held, for now. BloodVaine swung to face Aezezal, and for once, even the demon was agast at the look in his eyes.
“I should have thought of it sooner, Aezezal. I will draw Mana the way the ancients did. The way the Fright Knights do -- necromancy. Gather everyone in the castle -- servants, the wounded, any soldiers we can spare. Bring them into the main hall. Have a bladesman with a sharp axe ready. As they die, I will draw Mana from them! I will gather enough to cast a spell that will crush the enemy as I did the Dragon Master fortress. Quickly! We must prepare!”
Aezezal ran to do the mad sorcerer’s bidding. The demon was quick in his work and soon all the remaining army was gathered in. Aezazel was making one last sweep of the castle when he was confronted by a man on a dragon.
“Traitor!” Aezazel screamed. But Gart held up his hand in a sign of peace.
“Your ranks are fallen, demon, your doom is at hand. But you may yet turn the tide. Take me demon. Use the power of Coal Blood and win the day.”
Aezazel contemplated this. A lot of the dragons had been killed in the battle but Aezazel had seen several more during his vision. They were not far off, engaged in a battle with the Black Falcons. So, with a sinister grin and a terrible laugh, he left Gib and entered Gart.
The form of Gib slumped onto the yellow floor, looking for all the world like that of a dead man. But Gart smiled. Even as the demon enveloped his mind in darkness, he thought, “Enjoy your time while it lasts demon. Soon this body will die. You’re safe now Gib. You’re safe.”
And the demon leapt to his new steed and flew into the sky.
Derrek and Keavur Stormspear saw him. They saw Gart flying on his steed, and with a nod to each other, the both of them unleashed a telekinetic storm onto the beast. As it soared over the golden towers of Orion, the dragon’s wings were shredded to bits and pieces of flesh and sinew. The dragon, its powers of flight stolen in a cruel and instantaneous blow, spiraled out of control. Aezazel, using his demonic powers, jumped away from the falling beast. Keavur kept a vigilant eye as the thin form of Gart flew backward, disappearing into the maze of buildings, while Coal Blood smashed into a minaret.
Radjar unsheathed his katana with a sharp and swift sound of metal against polished wood. Graygon pulled open his cloak, drawing two deadly knives out of leather bandoliers. The Dragon Masters looked about nervously.
“Keep a sharp eye,” Radjar ordered, “That hellspawn could be anywhere!”
The group could tell that even the battle-hardened Radjar was afraid. His voice was shaky and cracked, but his arm - and hopefully his mind - was as prepared as ever. The sounds of marching, not organized in any way, much more like the charge of a fervent mob, reached the small bands ears from the alleyway behind them. Lucius Van DeMorte, at the head of his elites, rode like a devil down the cobble road. A Dragon Master fell, and Caimlin pulled a wicked lance from the soldier’s pierced sternum. He was dead.
“Kill the horses!” Caimlin demanded.
Radjar rushed ahead, going for DeMorte. The Cavalier threw his shield with a snap of his arm, hitting Radjar full force in the chest and abdomen. He flew backward, blood streaming from his broken nose and mouth. Derrek shoved his pike through the breast of a horse, impaling its rider with it. The dying knight slumped forward, one hand on the pike, before Derek ripped it out once again.
Radjar stood up, grabbing his katana and continueing his aggressive assault on DeMorte. The Cavalier evaded his strikes, shifting from side to side, holding his Templar sword with both hands. Radjar struck forward when Lucius lost his footing. Lucius parried the blow, knocking the samurai blade from his fingers. With the pommel of his sword, Lucius bashed Radjar in the side of the head. Radjar let out a groan of pain.
“Now you die, King of Hemlock! Your head will be a trophy on my door! I have won this game of skill!”
He held the sword above his head to strike, but before he could, Graygon was upon him, knives slicing. Lucius fell to the ground as well, coughing blood.
“Game over,” Graygon snarled as he cut the knight’s throat and his Aryan head fell onto the stone road. The Cross Knights had been routed.
Radjar, Graygon, Derrek, Keavur, Caimlin and the pink-clad Dragon Masters darted away from the carnage. It had been a close call, and reddish blood still seeped from Radjar’s broken nose and the gash on the side of his head. Radjar pulled a scrap of cloth from his worn and shredded tunic, and as if he had never been hit, tied it around his head, wiped the blood from his nose, and continued on.
Graygon cleaned his knives with no particular gracefulness, wiping them non-chalantly on his brown cloak. The Demon-slayers attempted to recover, while Caimlin stood stone-faced like a statue, letting the guts and blood dry on his weapon.
“That was Aezazel,” Graygon said warily, “He is in the city right now... he could be anywhere!”
“Don’t worry,” Derrek replied. “Our troops- yours especially- hold strategic positions around the city. He’s probably boxed in as we speak-”
Suddenly, Gart, or Aezazel, fell from the sky, landing in front of the group and making them fall to the ground as if a huge boulder had just struck the earth.
“Speak of the devil…” Caimlin cursed.
The eager Dragon Masters rushed the demon, but Aezazel resisted them ruthlessly, grabbing one and smashing his head into a wall, shattering his skull, and tearing the arm of another.
“Chodan...he’s a monster...!” Graygon exclaimed, eyes widened in disbeilief.
Another Dragon Master was ripped apart by Aezazel, who let out an ecstatic cry of glee at the murder. Keavur shoved his pike into Gart’s breast, sending a barrage of light into him. Aezazel cried out and Gart’s body fell to the floor. Where he lay, a pentagram formed.
“There... we... we killed him!” Keavur cried happily.
A skeletal fist that looked hardly brawny at all came out of the darkness, hitting Keavur squarely in the face and sending him flying. The rest of the men turned to face the real Aezazel...his face was not visible, as he wore a cloak of what seemed to be dark flame, but the skin on his bony arms was cold and grey. Two red eyes glared from beneath the dark hood. Derrek knew then what he had to do.
“Radjar, Graygon, Caimlin...take Keavur and Gart. There is something I must do.”
Radjar knew instantly what would happen. He could not afford to lose another father figure who had guided him. He had already lost Fallmir. He had already lost Larn. He might loose Bjarn. He would not lose Derrek.
“No! You can’t! There must be another way!”
“NO BOY!” Derek barked, “STAY BACK! Only one Demon Slayer can defeat a demon in his true form by sacrificing his life!”
Derek drew a silver cross medallion from his black vest, inset with a blue stone.
“Go!” he yelled at the men, without turning his head to see them.
Radjar almost felt a tear in his eye, but he grabbed the limp Keavur and dragged him away, with Caimlin following with Gart. They rushed away as fast as possible. Derek Stormspear looked into the crimson eyes of the demon, his pike raised over his head, medallion pointed at him.
“GO BACK TO HELL, SATANSPAWN! GO BACK TO THE HELL FROM WHINCE YOU CAME!” he screamed.
Derek saw Kara in his mind, rushing towards him.
“Kara…” he muttered softly, a grin forming on his face.
An explosion of tremendous light ripped forth from the city, and all of the souls in the area felt the soul of Derek Stormspear as he floated up to the heavens.
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