“All is dust; all is meaningless. How I long for a foe that could be a challenge; instead, I fight vermin and rabble!” - Ireo, Nephilim Warlord, shortly after the sacking of Venci.

  Night fell, and Petro and Martin slid carefully through the trees. They were heading toward a clearing illuminated by silver light. The essence of their horses was a beacon to which Petro’s Soulsight latched on.

  Martin’s feet were sore, and he struggled to mute his heavy breathing. He was holding out hope their steeds were still in one piece. They kept their eyes peeled for trouble, expecting red or black eyes from the back of every tree.

  With a final turn came both good news and bad news. Magnus was alive; he looked tired and anxious. He was lying next to a body. Rubert had arrow wounds and slashes, his body still in a pool of blood. Martin sighed, and he pressed his hand against the corpse. Magnus had tears in his eyes.

  “This is bad,” said Petro as he pressed a hand against Magnus. “We have to double up.”

  Martin turned to Petro. “But won’t that slow us down?”

  “What choice do we have?”

  “This doesn’t make sense. How did Rubert get hurt, and Magnus is barely even scratched?” Martin’s eyes widened. “It’s a trap.” Even Magnus must have realized since he got to his feet. Red eyes peered from the surrounding wood, and arrows rained down. Martin paled. “Oh, come on!”

  Petro pointed at Magnus. “Get on the horse!”

  They mounted Magnus, and the beast bolted, the arrows barely missing them. The raiders were in hot pursuit; more arrows whispered through the darkness.

  Martin gripped the horse for dear life. “This won’t do! We’ll be too slow!”

  Petro whipped out his crossbow. “We can still fight. Take the reins; I’ll shoot. We’ll fight our way free!”

  Petro returned fire. His aim was true, and soon, the bodies of raiders formed a path to freedom. Martin whipped forward as fast as he could. A lancer charged them, its feline mount growling. It lunged at them, but Petro was quicker, and a bolt lodged in the cat’s skull, falling on its rider. Another cannoned to their left, glaive raised. Petro drew his sword quickly and parried the blow. Another Maelim appeared on the other side, bow in hand. Martin gasped. “Petro!”

  Petro was still dispatching the other one. Martin shifted to his gun. Thank Terra he’d kept a round in. With a shaking hand, he fired, and the lead shot went between his enemy’s eyes.

  They glanced at each other and nodded. They rocketed through the wood, and arrows trailed after them. With another turn, another group of pines and more Maelim closed in.

  “What are we going to do?” whimpered Martin.

  “Just keep riding!”

  They approached a clearing. Instead of clarity, they found peril. A large group of raiders was there waiting for them. Martin turned the horse around to find another large group blocking the path.

  “This was a trap,” blubbered Martin. “This was all a trap!”

  The raiders lowered their lances and closed in.

  A horn rang out, giving pause to the marauders. Martin heard a scream, then another. And another. Trampling hooves thundered in. The Maelim raiders spat curses in their native tongue. Lances thrust into them, lighting the Maelim up in holy fire. Their saviors wore shimming armor and white hooded cloaks. They matched the raiders’ prowess and returned it in kind.

  A white-robed rider leaped into the encirclement, standing between the two parties, twirling a bladed shaft. Her eyes glowed white. Her raven hair was woven into intricate braids trailed down her back, covered by her white and golden hood. Tattoos crawled over her dark skin, her body adorned by white plate armor, gilded in gold and shimmering with star iron.

  The Maelim hissed. One drew his lance and charged. In an explosion of movement, the Maelim was missing his head. The lance was knocked out of his hand before Martin even realized it. Another behind her swung a saber at her head. She dodged the blow with lightning speed, her blade in the Maelim’s throat in that same instant. In moments all of the attacking raiders were dead.

  The woman turned to them. “Are you alright?”

  “We’ll live,” said Petro.

  “We need your help; our friends are in danger!” said Martin.

  The woman nodded and said, “I know. We’ve felt them. Follow me.”

  ………………..

  Leo scanned the horizon; embers began to wander into the sky the first morning. The drop was much lower, and a stretch of arid plain lay before them, the trees forming a barrier in the distance. There was nothing, and all was quiet. Too quiet. He took a deep breath and motioned to the others.

  Elizabeth snuck up behind him and said, “You see anything?”

  Leo shook his head.

  “There’s no way this isn’t a trap,” grumbled Annabelle.

  “Etheros, do you see anything?”

  Etheros peered into the trees. “I see nothing.”

  Leo and the others glanced at each other. “Should we try descending?”

  “Wait, I see something!”

  Elizabeth pointed. “Look out!” A massive arrow raced at them. They jumped out of the way just in time. The projectile embedded itself into the stone; rocks flew everywhere. One of the rocks hit Annabelle in the head, knocking her out and causing her to slide off the edge.

  Etheros cast a spell, and Annabelle floated gently to the ground. Elizabeth climbed down the cliff face and rushed to her. She was slowly coming to.

  “There’s another one!” shouted Leo. The bolt landed next to Etheros, who was tossed back, nearly falling off the ledge himself. Leo grabbed him. Another arrow flew, knocking both of them off the cliff. They tumbled onto the grass. Leo gritted his teeth, and his legs were profoundly sore. They stumbled to their feet.

  As dawn rose, the familiar glowing eye strode toward them like a mockery of the sun. Ireo held another arrow in his bow, ready to fire. A sea of red eyes trailed in the eye’s wake.

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  “I told you I would find you no matter what,” Ireo said with a crooked grin. “Do you think your friends will make it? That we wouldn’t have found your steeds already?” Leo’s eyes widened. “These woods are mine. They fell right into the jaws of my trap. You have no chance.”

  Leo snarled. “Either way, you’re going down!”

  Ireo sighed. “Very well, let’s finish this.” He aimed his bow. Etheros finished his spell, and the weapon caught fire, melting in his hands. Ireo dropped the weapon, startled. The other Maelim readied their bows. He lifted an arm and said, “No, I will deal with them myself.” The giant pulled out a long blade, caked with dried blood on its edge.

  Ireo charged, the dust trailing behind him. The ground shook as he closed the distance. He raised his weapon. Leo and Elizabeth clashed their blades.

  Leo winced. The giant’s sword was heavy and fast, and each strike hurt his arms. Yet their weapons held true, and they matched every blow, star iron against steel.

  Etheros raised a hand as he finished another spell. An explosion hit the beast, his armor melting in the blast. He reeled back in pain. The warband gasped and rushed to help their leader. Etheros wouldn’t let them. With another incantation, a blaze, a wall of fire, grew ahead of them. The first line of raiders hit the flames, and they shrieked and burned.

  Ireo growled as he unclasped his wrecked armor, and with blazing speed, he cannoned into them. They jumped out of the way as he hit the rock face, the cliffside rumbling and cracking. The arrows lodged into them loosened. The giant roared as he turned to Etheros. He raised his front hooves and brought them down.

  The legs crashed against his blue barrier. Etheros gritted his teeth, each stomp rippling around the shield like currents. With a loud grunt, Ireo shattered his shield, and Etheros was sent flying into the wall in an explosion of dirt, knocked out. His sacks spilled out of his robes as materials carpeted the ground.

  Ireo raised his sword over the wizard, but Elizabeth stabbed him in the arm. He groaned in pain. Leo stabbed him in the stomach, biting deep. Ireo roared in agony as he twirled his blade. Elizabeth was struck in the face by his elbow and flung back, out cold. Leo saw the sword coming and ducked. His back hit the ground, rolling away into the stone wall. The blade carved a new red line into his chest.

  Ireo turned to Annabelle, who was desperately trying to wake Elizabeth. He grinned as he closed in. Leo’s eyes were blurry as he struggled to stay conscious. He was so sore and tired, and the chest wound wasn’t deep but hurt like hell! He watched in horror as Annabelle pulled out her blade, shaking profusely. Leo glanced up at the loosened arrows hanging on the cliffside. An idea entered his head. Ireo towered over her, raising his blade.

  Leo lumbered to his feet; he had to place himself just right. “Ireo!”

  The beast turned to face him. He was so large, a giant dwarfing the trees. Leo felt so small and buckled for a moment. Fires blazed behind him, like a blackened daemon, he seemed. His form blocked out the rising sun, replacing it with his glowing eye. For a moment, Leo was back in that village, Giovanni in place of Elizabeth, the fires roaring as the town burned.

  Never again.

  The present came splashing back like cold water. Leo pointed his sword. “I’m not done yet!”

  Ireo scoffed. “You’re about to be.”

  Leo panted heavily. “You will pay for what you did to Giovanni, you one-eyed monster!”

  Ireo readied himself to pounce. “Your brother was nothing, and neither are you. There is no hope, and no one is coming to save you. All you have left is your death!” Ireo charged. Leo ducked as Ireo collided with the cliff, rolling to avoid the stabbing hooves. The arrows broke free, and they fell onto Ireo, points first.

  Ireo gasped as they pierced his stomach and chest. He coughed blood, crimson trails leaking down his skin. He struggled to move his arms to pry the arrows out.

  Leo snarled; he wouldn’t let him. He grabbed his sword and climbed over Ireo’s equine form and up his back. Ireo tried to shake him off, and Leo struggled to keep his balance. Leo leaped and brought his sword down on Ireo’s neck. It was thick and muscled, more like a tree than flesh.

  Leo growled as he slashed again and again. Elizabeth and Etheros came to, and they stood in awe. Ireo’s groans became choked gasps. His head was barely hanging on—only a flap of skin and sinew kept it in place. Ireo’s arms went limp, his head turned to Leo, the glowing eye fading but still alive. Leo brought his sword down one final time. Ireo’s head fell, and his body staggered to the ground.

  The Maelim warband stood in frozen fear as the head rolled. The light in his eye snuffed out. Leo leaped off the body, grabbing Ireo’s head. “Leave now, or suffer the same exact fate!” He tossed the head over the fires. The Maelim shrieked and fled.

  Leo turned to the corpse; anger flared in his eyes as he kicked it. “That was for you, Gio.” Elizabeth strode over and gave it a few stomps as well. They locked eyes. No words were needed. There wasn’t any bravado or tears—just closure.

  Etheros nodded. “Excellent work.”

  Leo paused. A sudden pain rippled through his body. His back tensed; hot knives were trailing canyons into his skin—a clasping clutch of serrated teeth bit into his shoulder. Something was lifting him. The world was spinning, and Leo was flailing.

  He flew into the tree line and hit the ground hard, eyes to the sky. The screams of Annabelle and Elizabeth were a faint buzzing on his failing senses. Leo last saw Annabelle crouching over him, pressing luminous hands against his ravaged body. Panic in her eyes as all went black.

  Velo-Obitus spat out Leo’s flesh. “Disgusting!”

  Annabelle pressed her hands against Leo’s back. The wounds were closing slowly. There was so much blood! Elizabeth looked on; her gaze was intense, and her jaw was agape.

  The daemon circled the Godshard. “We meet again, Etheros. I hope we have your attention. Shall we resume where we left off?”

  Etheros spared a glance at Leo. He was fading fast, Annabelle was trying, but it wasn’t looking good. He turned to the daemon, and anger filled him. “You’ll regret that!”

  “Ooh, such strong words! How fleeting; you know how this is going to end. We’re invincible; your spells are useless! How many more people have to die? Surrender now, and the rest will be spared!” Etheros drew his sword. Both heads laughed. “Really now, you’re going to fight like some warrior? Pathetic fool.”

  Etheros twirled his blade. “It is remarkable that you have captured so many of us, yet you still don’t understand us.”

  “So what? It’s all meaningless.”

  “Oh, do not worry. I can educate you. Even daemons can learn something new! Observe!” Etheros pointed his sword. “I am an Adamite. Ours is the oldest and most true Godshard practice.” The daemon growled, charging forward. “We follow the teachings of Adam, the first Godshard.” The daemon pounced, and Etheros evaded easily. “We have endured for twelve centuries. Do you know why?” The daemon swiped and clawed at the wizard. He dodged every blow. “We endure because, unlike my sacerdozio and seerhood brethren, we change, we improve!” Etheros brought down his sword, cutting at the daemon’s outstretched arm. The wound cut deep, and the monster yelped back. He looked expectedly, waiting for the damage to heal.

  It didn’t.

  “We adapt,” Etheros smirked. It worked; it actually worked! The daemon gasped. For the first time, Etheros saw fear in those black eyes.

  Annabelle was struggling. The wounds were closed, but Leo was still. Eerily still. She pressed her hands against his chest, glowing and chanting. Elizabeth stood there, tears running down her cheeks. She turned back toward the fight. The daemon was calm; the arrogance it had was gone.

  It swiped as Etheros ducked each blow, bringing down his blade. The edge caught her attention, a familiar white flicker. She gasped, and her brow furrowed. She looked at the sacks laid about. One of them had similar white chunks in it. Much of it was dust now. “Etheros, you fool!” This explained everything. Everything! He’d doomed them all!

  What was wrong with him? She’d warned him, and yet he still put them all at risk? What was he thinking? Why did she trust him? The sword left another wound, and that’s when it hit her. The injuries weren’t healing. He had done it for a reason. Martin’s words stung in the back of her head. But this was still reckless! The stone is cursed; Etheros might be cursed now! Who knows what ill fortune he has wrought! She turned to Leo, and Annabelle was still pressing her glowing hands to Leo’s chest, fighting back tears as she failed to revive him.

  Despite everything, Elizabeth didn’t want to lose him. They had their issues, and he’d broken her heart. But deep down, she still felt for him, maybe not as a lover anymore, but as a friend. They were kindred spirits and knew each other well. If there were anyone else she would want to protect Anna on this journey, it would be him. She could at least make this monster pay if they couldn’t save him. But would cursing herself be worth it?

  The daemon forced Etheros to give ground. The wizard was too slow, his old body waning. With a bat of the creature’s paws, the sword fell out of his hand. The beast pounced and pinned Etheros down. A foot pressed down on his throat. The leering faces of the daemon closed in. “You have our respect Etheros. Were you using our own essence against us? That was a clever ploy, and we daemons enjoy deception. You are a credit to your species, but we’re afraid this fight is over. Now come along.”

  The daemon growled in pain; a blade had entered its side. It staggered back. Elizabeth pointed her guisarme, coated in the daemon-stone dust, her eyes in dreary resignation. Etheros staggered to his feet and saw what she had done. They glanced at each other and needed no words. The daemon snarled as they clashed.