Chapter 47
The North wind rolled with wild
abandon over the hills and valleys of Keythion’s grass lands, winter browned
with a hint of the morning’s frost.
Tolian’s breath streamed behind her like a plume in the bitter air. To the casual observer it would have appeared
that a comet had descended to the earth and now raced over the terrain on some
celestial errand. Tolian knew she was running
at a surreal speed, but she was still able to examine her surroundings with a
surprisingly detailed acumen. Now that
morning was breaking the dark of night was replaced by the grey of heavily
clouded skies. The landscape was dotted
with camps of thousands of refugees heading southward, fleeing the Demon’s ferocious wrath.
Over the northern horizon, a vast
black cloud of smoke hung like a blanket.
Tolian knew that there had never been a fire of its like before. The whole of the northern skyline was
dominated by its dark fumes. As she
topped a tall hillside, she could see it.
A wall of fire, a hundred feel tall which stretched for miles, as far as
the eyes could see, moving southward with the speed of wild horses. A mighty stampede of flame galloped towards her, wiping out everything in
its path. From two miles away Tolian could
feel the warmth it generated. At half
that distance it was hot, and the thatch from cottage rooftops ignited from its
proximity.
The grass caught fire under foot as Tolian and the
wall of fire rushed towards each other. She felt the heat at great intensity for only
a moment, so great was her speed as she passed
through the colossal column of flame. It
did not slow her.
On the other side of the firewall,
the nightmare began. Everything was
blackened. Smoke rose all around. Only
black soot and an infinite pouring of smoke choking out the sunlight was
visible. Whirling clouds of dense fumes
rolled around Tolian cloaking her in the sooty remains of death. Gradually, the smokey area gave way to a
cold, scorched, lifeless landscape. The
steaming corpses of a million refugees burned in an instant decorated the fields and hills. Tolian’s heart ached at the tragic loss of
life. Tears flowed from her eyes, like
water from a drain spout. There was
nothing she could do for them. They were
dead, charred to a crisp.
But it was always visions of Brythia
that led her onward. Her sense of worry
drew her to an even greater velocity.
She was a brilliant blur on a dark landscape.
There was nothing left alive in the
southern portion of Keythion, where the wall of fire swept away all traces of
life in its swath of destruction. The
ruins of habitation became ever more apparent as she approached the Imperial
City, capital of the mighty Northern Empire of Keythion. Tolian choked back sobs of anguish as she
sped through the scorched countryside.
Despite the intelligence she had received from Findelbres, she knew that
they would be at the Imperial City.
The famed white spires of the
Imperial Residence were black and in ruin.
Charred skeletal corpses were piled by the thousands by the gates of the
city. Four Abominations like the one she
had killed in Lorm were busy with the work of gathering the bodies and feasting
on the burnt carcasses. Paying no heed
to the hideous things she stopped outside the gate to the former Imperial
Stronghold.
“Demon,” she yelled in
challenge. “I have come!”
“I have waited for you,” said the
possessed Rwiordes calmly, stepping out from behind the gate. “Please, by all means, let us not stand on
formality, you and I. Enter.”
He abruptly turned and walked back
through the gate, paying no attention to Tolian, whatsoever. She followed him.
“Where’s Brythia? Release her now. This is between you and me.”
“Is it? It seems to me that you are interfering in a
matter of no concern to you,” said the Demon, but now Tolian heard Perelisk’s
voice blended with Rwiordes. To her
left, about twenty yards away stood Perelisk holding a sword on Brythia, who
was bound. She was still alive. Tolian’s heart leapt for joy.
“Tolian!” shouted Brythia.
“Don’t worry, my love. I’m here.”
“How touching, indeed,” commented the
Demon.
“Release her,” Tolian again ordered.
“Why?
It seems to me that I have the advantage here.”
The stereo effect, as the Demon spoke
in unison through Perelisk and Rwiordes was deeply disturbing. He shoved the druidess to the ground roughly
and held her down beneath his foot, his sword poised at her throat.
“What shall we do now, Princess?” the
Demon inquired with relish.
Tolian’s heart pounded. Uncertainty clouded her reason. She dared make no move, lest the fiend slay
her beloved.
“Not sure what to do, Mighty
Champion? May I make a suggestion? Give me the sword, and you and the girl can
leave. No problems for either of us.”
“Until you destroy the World,” noted
Tolian.
“But this isn’t your world anymore,
is it?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know very well what I’m talking
about oh voluptuous one.”
The Demon’s licentious stare at her
cleavage was unsettling.
“You aren’t supposed to be here
anyway,” the Demon explained. “Why don’t
you take your sweetheart and return to the Moon where you belong. Otherwise I shall be forced to kill you
both.”
The truth of the Demon’s words hit
her like a rock in the head. The druids
had changed her more fundamentally than her gender, she was now a lunar being,
as much an alien to the World as the Demon himself. Thoughts of her home and family played about
the edges of her mind, but could not truly penetrate the center of her
consciousness. The burned out ruins of
the Imperial City screamed their silent warnings down on her, but could not
dislodge Brythia’s prominence in Tolian’s thoughts. Nothing could. Tolian struggled within her self. She could not win. The Druidic love spell was too powerful for
even the Moon-Goddess to fight. She
loved Brythia more than the World. It
was that simple. She knew that it was
wrong.
“Tolian, you can’t,” groaned
Brythia. “You know that.”
She did, but it didn’t matter. Tears flowed.
She couldn’t believe she was turning her back on everything. She cursed Magara and her love spell.
“If I agree, what assurances do I
have that you’d keep your end of the bargain?”
“A good point,” countered the Demon
through his mouths. “For that matter,
what assurances do you offer me?”
“I suppose we’ll have to trust each
other,” replied Tolian.
Every part of Tolian’s mind told her
that she could not trust that fiend.
Still, it was her only chance to save her beloved. The price was the World; at that moment, it
was not too high.
“Just give me the sword,” said
Rwiordes.
“And I’ll let her go,” finished
Perelisk.
Without another thought, in one
motion, she removed the Moonsword from its scabbard and tossed it to the ground
by Rwiordes’ feet. In return Perelisk
lifted his sword away from Brythia and stepped back a few paces.
“She’s yours, sweet Goddess.”
“No, no, no,” Brythia babbled in
denial. Her head shook like a mad
woman. “You didn’t. You couldn’t have.”
Tolian rushed over to Brythia. She bent down by her side.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I love you.”
Then Tolian felt the Demon’s sword
slip between her shoulder blades. She
fell on top of Brythia, pulling the sword from Perelisk’s hands in the
process. Her vision blurred. The Demon’s laughter resounded throughout the
empty courtyard, echoing off the blackened towers. She looked up to see the possessed Rwiordes
swinging the Moonsword at her head.
“What did you expect?” asked the
Demon as he bore down upon her.
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