A shrieking gust of wind swept the deck of the Lady Gregory. Circling back, it clothed itself in a sudden manifestation of shadowy form. Even as McLeod uttered a hoarse warning cry, the wind swooped down on Adam with a scream like a banshee' s shriek, sweeping him into a savage embrace.
Pain slashed and stabbed at him. Instinctively Adam struck back with his skean dubh, but his stroke sliced only air. The shadow-thing enveloped him, absorbing his efforts to throw it off, heaving its bulk against him to hurl him to the deck. Its weight settled on his chest, cutting off his breath.
Half-suffocated, he continued to flail. The weight on his chest pressed harder, driving him closer to the brink of unconsciousness. Though he redoubled his struggles, he began to sink into a well of darkness.
He could feel the power focused through the other members of the Hunting Party trying to win through to him, was dimly aware of McLeod and Peregrine and Aoife huddling together with linked hands, Magnus pouring energy toward him from the pilothouse, but all their efforts were in vain. Spawned from dimensions outside their experience, his attacker seemed impervious to their assault.
His left arm was crushed against his chest, trying una-vailingly to ward off the weight as his right arm sought a point of attack. The pressure of the prayer beads pressing into his wrist, against his sternum, recalled the beads' former owner. As physical consciousness dimmed, Adam momentarily cast himself free of his body in a desperate appeal to the Light. That appeal, resonating through the astral planes, was answered by another voice that seemed to call him back to Holy Island. Homing there in spirit, he became aware that the summoning presence was Tseten's.
Remember, you must separate the servant of evil from his demonic protectors, came Tseten's instruction.
Simultaneously came the words of exorcism that would make that separation, ancient words in an ancient language that spilled from Adam's lips as he was catapulted precipitously back into his body.
The pronouncement lent him a sudden surge of fresh strength. His attacker gave back, hissing in fury and alarm. Yanking his blade-hand free, Adam repeated his exhortation, slashing not at what pressed his body to the very brink of oblivion but at the submarine, and the man who directed the attack.
With a rending screech, what lay upon his chest withdrew in a writhing medusa-knot of serpents, coiling and recoiling, then rocketing skyward in a dissipating whirl. A third time Adam repeated his exhortation, now rising onto his elbows to stab his skean dubh toward the distant Tibetan monk in a gesture to answer that of the Phurba in his attacker's hand.
In that moment, a torn veil of cloud passed over the moon. The light dimmed on the surrounding water. As all eyes aboard the Lady G cast anxiously skyward, more clouds came boiling up over the horizon.
They converged on the two vessels from all sides, gathering density as they came. Colliding, they formed a churning vortex directly overhead. From the top of the submarine's conning tower, a bolt of blue lightning leapt skyward. Speared from below, the clouds split open, emptying a thunderous shower of hail down on the vessels below.
Ice-pellets the size of golf balls battered their way across the Lady Gregory's foredeck with a sound like machine-gun fire. The onslaught drove the Hunting Party back under cover as the projectiles hammered down from all sides. The hailstones grew larger, cracking off the roof like a rain of horseshoes. The waves rose in answer, leaping about in a welter of flying spume.
More lightning flashed, scything through the hail like serpents' tongues. One searing strike carried away the Lady G's radio antennae, sending blue fire crackling along the metal railings like corposants, the St. Elmo's fire of legend. Another stroke sheered off the after-rail, leaving a smoking hole in the metal bulkhead. Crowded next to Adam under the overhang of the cabin roof, Aoife shrieked at him through the din, wordlessly entreating him for respite.
Nothing in Adam's living experience had prepared him for this. But as his thoughts turned once again to Tseten, there came to him another unspoken directive. In that instant of communion, he saw himself once again suspended in inner space, encircled by the dance of the universe. With a Word, he plucked a star from the midst of that swirling pavane and set it aloft on the point of his skean dubh.
Stepping out into the storm, he lifted the blade over his head. A lotus blossom of supernal light opened outward from its point, unfolding above him like an umbrella. Hail bounced harmlessly aside, rolling off the deck into the sea. Still unfolding, the umbrella continued to expand, bringing the rest of the ship under its protection.
The storm of ice became a storm of fire. Hailstones ignited as they fell, smacking into the waves with bellows of rising steam. The sea began to seethe. From out of the depths came a serpentine stream of twisting flames, resolving as they surfaced into a phalanx of demonic forms. Hard-pressed, Adam began to waver.
"Huntsmen, to me!" he called to his companions. And braced himself to withstand the onrushing attack.
Eyes burning, mouths slavering, the demons bore down on the ship in a flying wedge. Cutting, thrusting, and parrying, Adam fended them off with sweeps of his blade as McLeod and Peregrine, Aoife and Magnus, came to stand with their backs to his, also drawing Eamonn into their protection.
But though they might lend defense, it must be Adam who essayed the attack. Bolstered by their fresh energy, by the full force of their combined wills, he took a renewed grip on his skean dubh and channelled into it all the power that was now at his command. Wielding that power like a scourge, he left his body behind and hurled himself in spirit across the intervening gulf of astral space, to strike where he sensed his adversary to be.
The Hailmaster saw him coming and rose to meet him. There was a ringing explosion like shattering bells as blade met blade on the astral. The Hailmaster parried Adam's first thrust with contemptuous ease. He struck back, and Adam uttered a cry as his adversary's blade point passed breathlessly close to his heart.
Even the near-miss seemed to burn. Teeth clenched, wholly focused, Adam renewed his attack, seeking for an opening that would enable him to disarm his opponent.
Instead, he found himself drawn into a bind. He tried and failed to pull out of the deadlock. As the Dark rose up triumphantly, Adam caught a glimpse of eyes of molten ruby, and a wrathful, multilimbed presence intent on breaking him, devouring him. Though all his being quaked with the effort, Adam summoned the full of his remaining strength and gave his blade a final, desperate wrench, knowing he would get no second chance.
But miraculously, his opponent's weapon gave way, the physical blade spinning from his hand in a glittering arc to splash into the sea even as its astral counterpart exploded in a shower of burning shards. In that instant, the bonds retaining Nagpo's demonic protectors were severed, and the entities fled away in a sudden implosion of black light.
The backlash slammed Adam backwards across the void with a dizzying sense of free-fall, followed by ajarring shock as his spirit-self re-entered his body. Arm benumbed to the elbow, he folded to his knees as the deck of the Lady Gregory swam back into focus around him. He raised his head to find himself surrounded by the faces of his friends. Before anyone could speak, there was a sudden rush of wind across the bow and an ear-piercing shriek from across the water.