Terry Simpson - The Shadowbearer

One of the wraithwolves next to Thania exploded. Great gouts of blood and flesh splashed not only its counterparts but on her as well, painting the floor and nearby wall crimson.

Cerny’s arm shook. Whatever Forging they were using, they battled mightily against each other.

A second later, Thania’s shoulders sagged and her expression changed to one of shock. She sunk to the floor.

With two mighty roars, the Sven pounded their fists into the floor. Marble and stone boiled up around them. The piled debris shot forward and sent flagstones in a rippling wave toward the King. At the same time, the two Sven leaped.

The wave of earth came to a jarring halt as if slamming into an invisible wall. Before they reached the apex of their jumps, the Sven froze. The air within the throne room grew so cold Stefan’s teeth chattered. Frost, then ice, rippled across the Svens’ giant forms. A moment later, they shattered. A shower of flesh, dirt, and stone fell with their deaths.

Transfixed, Stefan stared in disbelief. To do all he’d accomplished, Nerian would have had to Forge air to lift and bind Celina and create the wall, use light to kill the wraithwolf and Warp the Mater around Thania, reconstitute earth around Stefan’s leg, and use water and ice to destroy the Sven. To be a High Matii, one had to be able to wield two of the three elements. But to Forge essences from all three? Simultaneously? Impossible.

The rattle of Celina as she wheezed and coughed, and Thania’s low keening moan broke him from his thoughts. The smell of fresh blood and the rot of wraithwolf filled the room. As his mind registered the devastation Nerian wrought, Stefan tried to work out a solution. Even if he got close enough, the King would kill him before he could blink.

One possible course remained to ensure his family survived. He decided to take it.

“I–I will release the sword’s bond to you,” Stefan said. “J-Just don’t hurt them anymore.”

“I knew you would come around.” Nerian smiled, but he didn’t venture closer.

In the King’s icy, emerald eyes Stefan saw the truth. When he handed over the sword’s bond, Nerian intended to kill them all.

Stefan took in the tear-streaked faces of his children. Then he looked at his wife, her tattered clothing and bruised body. He opened his Matersense. All around her, Cerny, and the shadelings, the elements were Warped. Tentacles of shade spread from Cerny to the shadelings and to the King.

My wife, my children, the only ones I might ever have, taken from me, denied lives of their own. With the thought came heaviness in his heart. As sudden as the grief rose, a mounting anger joined it. The heat of his emotions roiled through him. Another, different burning sensation followed.

“Give me the divya .”

Nerian’s words sounded far away. All Stefan felt was the inferno now throbbing within him. Scouring his insides, it emanated from his anger and one other point. He closed his eyes and threw his head back as the sensation engulfed him.

The second source of fire, of energy, was the sword. The weapon seemed to beckon to his emotions.

When Stefan opened his eyes, Nerian had taken several steps down the colonnade. The King’s lips moved but Stefan heard nothing. He strained to make out the words against the roar of the power in his ears.

“With the power your sword holds, the world will be mine.” Nerian’s eyes had the mad gleam again as he stared lustily at the divya .

In desperation, Stefan gave in to the pull. He added the heat of his rage to the energy emanating from the weapon.

“Do not be afraid,” Nerian coaxed. “All will be well.”

Calm rolled through Stefan as the two blazes joined. “Yes, it will,” he answered. He locked gazes with the King. The Svenzar’s words of forcing Nerian to create an opening came back to him.

Eyes narrowing, Nerian paused.

A tiny concussion from the sword shot up Stefan’s arm. The same as it did the first night in Benez. He recognized how to direct the burst of power now. With a flick of his hand, he sent the energy running through him into the sword and into Nerian’s Forging. Marble melted from around his feet. He raised his leg to step toward the King. In the same instant, he spun and leapt the fifty feet separating him and Cerny.

Time took on a miniscule flow. Cerny’s eyes widened.

Stefan landed next to the General. He plunged his sword hilt deep into the smaller man’s gut and ripped up. Blood spurted, a few drops spattering Stefan’s face. Entrails spilled out along with the stench of fecal matter.

“You wanted to replace me,” the Knight Commander said with a sense of satisfaction. “Well here, take my sword and unhand my wife.” He caught Thania by one arm.

The world sped back up. Cerny crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from his torn torso. The sword protruded from his back, bits of flesh and pulp hanging from its edge.

“What have you-”

The wails from the shadelings cut off Nerian’s words. Stefan made to tear his weapon from Cerny’s corpse, but the wraithwolves and the darkwraiths dashed toward the King.

A loud crash echoed through the room. Stefan spun to the source of the sound at the throne room’s main entrance.

Gouts of fire and light shot down the colonnade. The wind rose in a howl. Through the door stormed at least a dozen High Ashishin. At their head, the air a blur around her fists was Galiana.

“You DARE!” Nerian bellowed. The shield protecting him melted away. He raised his hands.

Stefan prayed he had done enough.

The ground rumbled and the room itself shook. Paintings fell from the walls. Dust, bricks, and mortar dropped from the ceiling.

Between the King and everyone else, the carpeted floor split. Like splintered ice, the crack traveled, as it opened wider until the ground was rent in two. A huge stone hand, covered in tattoos, reached up and grabbed the lip of the chasm. A head followed. Kalvor’s head.

The Svenzar pulled himself out of the hole. Six Sven followed, leaping to the lip of the chasm. The earth closed.

Spanning twenty feet, body covered in his tapestry of writhing tattoos, Kalvor almost reached the ceiling. The creature pointed a massive sword at the King, its shiny surface highlighted by glyphs and runes. “The time has come for your madness to end, Nerian. Our kind was not made to bring suffering but to save the world.”

A confused expression spread across Nerian’s face. He threw both hands up toward the creature. Other than the King’s cloak billowing behind him, nothing happened. His face darkened. “You know nothing, Svenzar,” he yelled. “You shall fall. All of you will. Kahar, kill the children.”

“NO!” Stefan screamed. “I rel-” His words cut off. Something filled his mouth.

Beside him, Galiana appeared.

Nerian roared and the world became a blinding white.

Heat scalded Stefan’s skin. A hand pushed him in the chest. Everything went from white to a stark black. A sensation, as if he fell backwards from a cliff into unfathomable depths, swallowed him.

As he spiraled, his gaze was riveted on Kahar. The bodyguard was standing over Anton with his sword in hand. Blood dripped from its edge.

Stefan lurched to a stop. Warm air, too warm for Seti, bright light, and the smell of grass, greeted him. Frowning, he peered around.

A wall rose behind him, spanning several hundred feet into the air. Steel, feldspar, and white alabaster shone with an ethereal glow that lit up the surrounding landscape as if it were daytime instead of night. The Vallum of Light.

Then, like a bucket of freezing water splashed over a man while he slept, the shock of what happened hit him. “No, no … what did you do?” Tears streamed down his face.