David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

“You are a fool,” the god said.

Karak gave Bardiya a powerful kick to the stomach, sending the giant flying. He struck the ground and bounced once before sliding fifteen feet. The jagged earth beneath him sliced into his back, opening wounds that bled onto the rocks. His ribs were a swirl of agony, possibly broken. Though Bardiya had lived his whole life in pain, nothing he had ever experienced compared to this.

His slide ended at the lip of the cliff. Groaning, Bardiya rolled onto his side. He hadn’t released the sword when Karak kicked him, but when he stared at the weapon in his hand, his spirits plummeted. It was red and smoking where the god’s sword had connected with it, and he could see the steel warping even as he watched. He waited for it to glow as it had when he’d frightened off the beast-men, but no matter how much he prayed to Ashhur, it remained nothing but steel.

“Did you truly think a blade forged by man could challenge one forged in the heavens?” Karak stormed toward him.

Bardiya scampered to his feet, keeping his knees bent, his back hunched. He perspired, though it was cold, and a drop of sweat dripped onto his reddened sword, releasing a hiss and a small puff of steam. Dread threatened to overwhelm him. I cannot win. All is lost. His lips began to quiver. I am sorry I have failed you, Ashhur.

A queer sort of warmth then spread unexpectedly through him. It began in his heart, slowing the organ’s violent thrumming, and worked its way out from his ribcage, stilling his shoulders, his hips, his arms and legs. Ashhur’s voice was within him, the most soothing words he’d ever heard, reverberating throughout his body. All is never lost, my son. No matter your failures, your love, your virtue, has always been true. You are the greatest of my children, heartfelt and wise and willing to sacrifice everything for your brothers. One day, all of humanity will look on you with awe. Reject your doubts. In my embrace, there will be no more pain, no more fear.

“I am your servant!” Bardiya cried. “Ashhur, my life for you!”

His sudden outburst caused Karak to hesitate ever so slightly, allowing Bardiya to straighten himself out and hold the twisted steel before him. The deity then glowered and closed the ten feet between them in a heartbeat, bringing his ethereal sword around in a mighty cleave. Their swords met once more, and Bardiya held strong, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep from being shoved over the edge and into the river. Karak’s sword burned through his. Glowing molten steel flowed down the shaft, causing the blade to bend backward. The deity laughed at him, madness in his radiant eyes. It was a stare that would have reduced any other mere mortal to quivering, but Bardiya simply would not back down. Though the god’s sword had nearly worked its way through his own, he gathered his strength and shoved back. Amazingly, Karak’s grin wavered as his face lit up with cobalt radiance.

The god’s eyes widened, and when Bardiya shifted his gaze to their locked swords, he saw that his was no longer made of folded steel. What he held in his fists was a column of pure energy, blazing white and blue and white again. For you, Ashhur! The light from his blade and the dark flames around Karak’s seemed to forge a battle all their own; eddying and lapping, one force of nature trying to overtake another.

Strength poured into Bardiya’s soul. As with Karak’s man-beasts, he couldn’t explain the glowing sword, his newfound vigor, or the way his instincts directed him-but it felt right . He chanced to release one hand from his weapon’s handle, swinging a meaty fist around and connecting with Karak’s cheek. The deity’s head snapped to the side, a grunt escaping his lips. He stumbled and had to hold an arm out to keep his balance, and his ethereal sword dipped. Bardiya used the opening to attack, hewing low, so the tip of his blade passed beneath the god’s. The lighted shaft met Karak’s leg, burning through his black armor and slicing the godly flesh beneath. The deity shrieked and staggered away from the giant, his free hand groping for a wound that leaked liquid shadow.

Karak glanced at the gash and scowled.

Bardiya gave him no reprieve. He charged the god, hacking away like a crazed woodsman. Karak parried blow after blow, inching backward each time, constantly on the defensive. There was no skill in Bardiya’s attack, no style to his fighting; he operated on predatory aggression alone. Embers leapt into the air each time their swords met, falling all around the combatants as if they fought within a ring of fireflies. And still Bardiya pressed on. His muscles felt no wear; his bones didn’t ache. He was simply a tool of his god, acting on intuition, defending that which he knew to be righteous. He might be violent on the outside, but on the inside he sang.

When they drew close to the trees, Karak pivoted, heading instead back toward the center of the granite cliff. The wound in his knee had stopped seeping, but still he limped. Gone was the look of madness, replaced by something Bardiya would never have expected to see on the face of a deity-concern. Bardiya hacked left, brought his sword around, and then chopped to the right, throwing the god off balance. Karak attempted a desperate lunge, which Bardiya easily sidestepped. The maneuver left the god open to attack, and Bardiya thrust his luminous blade at Karak’s shoulder. The tip found a slight gap between breastplate and pauldron, slipping into the god’s flesh as easily as a stick into a muddy pool. The deity threw his head back and screamed. The glow of his eyes dimmed, and the purplish flames surrounding his sword sizzled as if doused with water. Spools of thick shadow leapt from the new wound, crackling when they came in contact with Bardiya’s shining blade.

The giant kicked Karak square in the chest, knocking the deity flat on his back. His sword withdrew from the god’s shoulder with a sound like a murmur on the wind, the shadow fizzling on its surface. Karak’s sword hand opened when his head struck the ground, sending the blade tumbling away. It turned to mist mid-spin and disappeared.

Bardiya loomed over the prone deity. Karak panted, his face now wreathed in the shadow that poured from his shoulder. The god’s throat rumbled as he tried to lift himself off the ground, but Bardiya stomped on him, forcing him back down. The god’s armor was hot against the soles of his bare feet. He shifted his grip on his sword, aiming the tip downward while he raised it high above his head. Its brightness intensified, becoming nearly as intense as the sun above.

“Your depravity shows in your weakness,” Bardiya proclaimed just as he began to bring his blade down, intending it to strike Karak’s head.

“Not nearly so weak as you assume,” came a voice from behind him.

Bardiya never had time to turn. Inky blackness enveloped his vision, blinding him. Something powerful wrapped itself around his forearms, stilling his downward thrust. He was then towed backward. The invasive force was strong; it felt like his bones were being crushed. Vigorous laughter filled the air.

Dragged to his knees, Bardiya hurriedly lifted his blade, slicing through the wall of suffocating black that ensnared him. His head snapped around toward the source of the laughter, and there was Eveningstar, kneeling where he had fallen, hands raised. His cloak billowed around him; his eyes blazed red. Tendrils of shadow leapt from his fingertips, undulating as they raced through the air. Bardiya lifted his glowing sword, cutting through them. He gritted his teeth as he fought to stand.

A furious pain then hit him, tracing him from shoulder to ribcage. His heart skipped one beat, then two, then began to hammer in his chest as if it were trying to escape. Glancing down, Bardiya saw Karak’s sword, simmering with dark flames, protruding from his bare chest. The flames had cauterized the wound, which was a smoking, pulpy line that began at his collarbone-the same one scarred by Ethir Ayers in the mangold grove so long ago. His bones had held then, but not this time. Not when the force of a deity fell upon him.