David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

“Goddess above,” said Aully’s mother, “we give our lives to you, to protect and hold once we reach your side.”

“I love you all,” Aully said.

Kindren squeezed her tight. “Always and forever.”

The demon howled, sounding much too close, and though Aully didn’t want to look, she did anyway. The beast veered to the side, a rope around its neck. Aully’s eyes followed the length of the rope, which ended in the hand of brave Ceredon, standing atop a galloping horse. The elf then jumped, dangling by the rope, holding on for dear life as the demon swung its head and him along with it. The beast skidded to a halt, the hail of rock and other earthen fragments bombarding the cowering elves as its claws dug into the ground. The demon swiped at Ceredon, knocking him around like a pendulum, until the rope broke and the elf fell to the ground. Defiant, he scampered back to his feet, ripped the shortsword the human woman had given him from his belt, and hurled it at the beast. The sword ricocheted harmlessly off the creature’s snout.

“Darakken!” the elf shouted, shaking an angry fist at the beast. “You want a meal, you devour me !”

The demon reared back, its tusks retracting once more, and then a mouth filled with giant teeth lurched toward the lone, defiant elf.

Aully tore away from Kindren and ran, knowing she would never get there in time, knowing there was nothing she could do even if she did. Kindren tackled her from behind.

“Ceredon, no !” she screamed.

Ceredon dropped to his knees, his head back as the demon’s maw rapidly descended on him. He couldn’t help but smile. It hadn’t mattered what anyone had done, how brave any of the soldiers had been in defending their lives. It didn’t matter how much magic they threw at the beast, how many arrows plinked against its hide. In the end, it was Boris Marchant’s version of the story of how the evil thing was defeated before that told him all he needed to know. Because of that, he finally understood the true meaning behind the words Celestia had whispered to him in Dezerea. Become the mountain .

A mountain is resilient. A mountain stands unmoving and accepts whatever abuse nature brings upon it without complaint. A mountain offers up its surface as a sacrifice for all the creatures that call it home.

The descent of Darakken ceased.

The ground rumbled beneath Ceredon’s knees, shaking him to the core, but he didn’t move. He kept his gaze up, staring at the ancient demon as its fiery red eyes widened. It huffed, casting down a gust of breath that reeked of smoke and rotten meat. The thing then reared up on its hind legs, pawing at its chest.

Ceredon looked on in astonishment as the ground rose up around the beast, swallowing its hooves, its reverse-jointed knees. The earth rumbled once more, and Ceredon finally scurried backward as lances of stone burst from the ground, pointed tips driving into the demon’s hide, shattering its scales, making it bleed. Demon’s blood, Ceredon thought as he put more distance between himself and the demon. Elf’s blood.

Spires continued to break out of the soil. One lanced Darakken’s shoulder. One broke through its clawed hand and exited the other side before embedding in its neck. One punctured its back, extending outward until it punched through the creature’s neck as well. The demon struggled, gurgling in pain, but only succeeded in thrusting the earthen spears deeper into its body.

Soon, at least a hundred of those granite lances locked the demon in place, bent upright. The blood continued to gush from each and every wound, but the flow slowed, the blood seeming to harden as it rolled over its scales, as if it were turning to mud, then clay, then solid granite. Its struggles diminished as well, and there was an audible creak each time a limb bent. The area beneath the demon’s scales, where its heart should have been, began to glow, and Ceredon swore he saw the darkened outline of a book in the center of the light. That light was soon covered over by a thick glob of soil-like blood that oozed from the demon’s throat.

Darakken’s scales slowly changed color, transforming from green-black and shimmering to a deep red and then to a pale shade of brown. Ceredon looked on in awe as those same scales seemed to calcify, nodules rising on them, covering them over, filling in the gaps between them. The thing was turning to stone before his eyes.

Become the mountain, indeed.

The earth swallowed the demon from the bottom up, snaking over the stone spires, congealing, becoming solid. The last thing Ceredon saw of the beast was its eye, the red now faded, as it rolled and stared down at him in both fear and hatred. Finally, that too was covered over by the upward cascade of dirt, clay, and stone.

Darakken was no more.

“That. . how did you do that?” Ceredon heard the spellcaster named Turock ask.

Ceredon stood in front of what was now a stony hillock. The thing took up much of the clearing, closing his view of the forest behind. The soldiers who had survived the demon’s assault rounded the massive obstruction, some on horseback, most on foot, limping. Rachida, a woman Ceredon had met once long ago when Karak’s First Families visited Quellasar, rode elegantly into view. He nodded to her, and she nodded back before going about taking measure of her losses. Ceredon lifted his gaze to the sky, tears welling up. He faced north, toward Celestia’s hidden star, and whispered, “Thank you.”

The deed is not yet done. Her voice was an enraged whisper on the wind. Ceredon whirled around and faced the mob of Stonewood Dezren that lingered by the cliff’s edge. All their eyes were on the heavens, their expressions of relief washing away, replaced by confusion. Even Aully, Kindren, and Lady Audrianna, who had been striding toward him, stopped and stared. Had they heard the voice as well? Was that possible?

My children have disappointed me, the goddess said, and sure enough the Dezren did hear, for many of them fell to their knees, breathing in panicked breaths. You were blessed with lives longer than any other mortal beings, and yet those lives were squandered by hatred and war. Beauty was handed to you, and yet it was not enough. All you had was bartered to a childish god, for greed, for fleeting power and shallow pride. Such immaturity, such ugliness. I have stood aside and allowed you to err, but no longer. Your sins shall not be tolerated.

The elves surged forward, their pleading voices rising to the heavens, while the humans stood around and gawked at the scene, confused. Ceredon lowered his eyes and saw one elf standing out among the rest. For a moment, Ceredon was taken aback-the elf looked like a thinner, younger version of Cleotis Meln. The elf raised his hands to the sky.

“You owe us!” he shouted. “It was you who turned your back on us !”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ceredon saw Aully glaring at the elf, her hands curled into fists.

The wind blew silently for a moment before Celestia spoke once more.

You were to be the wardens of humanity. Her voice came from all around, on the wind and in the stillness between, and it was laced with fury. And when your leaders refused, I accepted your choice. I let you be, with two simple doctrines: Protect the beauty of this world, and remain impartial in the affairs of man. Both have been broken, and those who have broken them, in all the lands you call home, shall be punished. No longer will you know beauty. No longer will your lives be long. You will only know an undying hunger, an empty pit in your souls where my love once resided. You will always remember all that you once had, and the knowledge that it is no longer yours will drive you mad.