Trephas hesitated a moment longer, then, behind him, Soulsplitter crashed again. Wheeling, he charged through the gap. He plucked his lance from his harness, howling a furious war cry as he plunged into the darkness.
"Reorx's beard," Dezra swore. "I thought he'd never leave!"
Caramon barked a rough laugh, blocking his opponent's darting knife. The blade scraped across his shield, and he shoved forward, throwing the satyr off-balance. Twisting, he drove the shredded stump of his sword through the goat-man's throat. He released the weapon, and it exploded a second time, this time leaving nothing but tangled metal.
Dezra cried out in pain then, and she fell, Hurach's knife stuck in her thigh. She landed on a fallen branch, winding herself, and lay on her side, writhing in pain. The satyr yanked his blade out of her leg, then leapt, aiming a downward thrust at her breast.
Seeing the upraised knife, Caramon ran, his massive legs straining. A red sun of rage kindled in his head and he let out a furious bellow, thrusting aside pain and weariness and age as he threw himself at the goat-man.
He struck Hurach shield-first, with the force of a rock-slide. The satyr flew back, his dagger flying from his grasp, then crashed down in a heap. Caramon landed on top of him, his face a mask of rage, and hammered his meaty fist into Hurach's face.
"Stay away from my daughter!" he thundered.
Yelling furiously, he pummeled the satyr again and again. Stubbornly, Hurach refused to black out; instead, he gathered his strength and tried to push Caramon off. Through the haze of rage, Caramon cast about for a weapon. But he had nothing. His sword was gone, his shield too cumbersome. Even the satyr's knife was out of reach. Finally, he yanked his dragon-winged helm off his head and slammed it against Hurach's nose.
With a crunch of bone and gristle, the satyr's face became a bloody ruin. Roaring like a maniac, Caramon struck him a second time, then a third. Finally, on the fourth blow, the tip of one of the helmet's bronze wings pierced the satyr's temple. Hurach bucked wildly, throwing Caramon off, then went limp.
The helmet, lodged in Hurach's skull, shivered a moment, then blew apart in a storm of jagged metal.
Caramon sat still, staring at the shards of his helm. After a moment, he became aware of movement beside him, and felt Dezra's hand on his shoulder. He looked up dazedly.
"I loved that helmet," he said. "I wore it for fifty years."
"I know," she said.
She crouched down in front of him, offering her hand. He let her pull him to his feet.
"You're hurt," he said, glancing at her wounded leg.
She shook her head. "It isn't bad. Hurts like the Abyss, but I can walk. Now come on-we've got to help Trephas."
She turned away, to help Borlos up. Caramon stared at Hurach's corpse a moment longer, then stooped and picked up a bloody piece of metaclass="underline" one of his helmet's wings. He turned it over in his hand, then rose with a sigh, tucking it into his belt. Grabbing a stout, heavy branch for a weapon, he joined the others, then went with them through the gap in the trees, toward the heart of the grove.
Chrethon's arms burned with fatigue as he brought Soulsplitter down on the Forestmaster's horn for the tenth time. There was a shallow notch in the Forestmaster's horn now, with tiny cracks radiating from it. The unicorn squeezed her eyes shut, her nostrils flaring with each gasping breath.
"Again!" boomed Grimbough.
Again! echoed its leaves.
Chrethon slumped. He wanted to rest, to ease his aching muscles, but the daemon tree wouldn't let him. Compelled by Grimbough's voice, he gripped the axe in both hands, aiming his next blow. He raised Soulsplitter high-
And then he heard it: hoofbeats, growing swiftly louder, coming through the trees. Lowering the axe, he turned.
With a roar, Trephas charged out of the gloom. He came on so fast that Chrethon almost forgot to dodge his spear. The lance, which had been aimed at Chrethon's heart, struck his left arm instead, cleaving through his wasted flesh. Its shaft snapped from the force of the blow, then Trephas slammed into Chrethon and they crashed to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.
They wrestled together a moment, kicking and clawing, then Chrethon pulled away, shoving Trephas off. As he did, Trephas grabbed the sword Chrethon wore on his harness. Steel rang as the blade slid from its scabbard, then they parted, scrambling to their feet.
They stood apart from each other, breathing hard, holding their weapons ready. Blood trickled down Trephas's chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.
Chrethon chose that moment to attack, Soulsplitter whirling. Trephas raised his sword to parry, then recognized the feint and leapt back as Chrethon suddenly reversed the blow and swung upward, aiming to cleave him from beneath. The axe struck flesh and bone, carving easily through both, and two fingers from Trephas's left hand fell to the ground.
Gasping in pain, Trephas snatched back his injured hand, then ducked as Soulsplitter parted the air above his head. He rose again, then swung his sword low, parrying a slash aimed at his legs. He struck Soulsplitter's haft, the force of the blow nearly jarring the blade from his hand.
Again they separated, circling each other. This time Trephas came on, swiping with his sword. The blade opened a gash in Chrethon's belly, but not deep enough to kill. The Skorenos swung in response, and Trephas leaped back… .
And stumbled.
Chrethon's face lit with maniacal joy as Trephas fell to his knees, dropping his sword. He raised Soulsplitter high to smite his defenseless foe.
Then he saw Trephas's eyes. His smile turned into a snarl as the centaur surged forward, slamming his shoulder into Chrethon's stomach. Air erupted from the Skorenos's lungs in a loud rush, and still Trephas continued to drive forward and up. Trephas flung his arms about Chrethon's waist, squeezing with all his strength. Chrethon gasped for breath, trying to swing Soulsplitter, but he had no room. Meanwhile, Trephas twisted and shoved, jerking him this way and that. Finally, Chrethon lost his balance, and the two fell to the ground once more. Soulsplitter flew from his grasp, landing out of reach.
Trephas shifted his hold, wrapping a sinewy arm around the Skorenos's throat. Inexorably, Chrethon began to choke. When he was wavering on the edge of unconsciousness, however, Trephas relented. Even in the red fury of battle, the centaur wasn't foolish enough to kill him with his bare hands. As Chrethon lay gasping on the ground, Trephas rose, went to pick up the sword he'd dropped, and limped back to the Skorenos's side.
Chrethon tried to rise, but couldn't. He raised his chin defiantly. "It's done," he said. "Finish me.”
Trephas drove the sword into the Skorenos's breast. Chrethon grimaced, let out a weak breath. The sword burst into a million pieces.
Silence fell over the vale. Even the storm seemed to abate as Lord Chrethon died. Then a deep, furious roar rose, almost inaudible at first, but gaining strength until it was louder than thunder, shaking the earth under Trephas's hooves. Grimbough's branches waved and writhed in rage. Trephas stared at the daemon tree, his eyes wide with fear.
Then the ground beneath him erupted, and thick, hairy roots burst forth. He had just enough time to cry out in terror as they coiled about him and dragged him down.
40
The others were almost to the edge of Grimbough's sward when Trephas screamed. Dezra stiffened, then broke into a run, limping toward the daemon tree.
"Dez, wait!" Caramon yelped. He grabbed for her, catching her wrist, but she shook him off. Then she was gone, vanishing into the shadows. "Damn and blast!" he swore as the trees writhed in her wake. "Borlos-"