When the object broke through the smoke, Gwendolyn looked up, her sister’s lifeblood staining her hands. Zollin had felt Andomina’s magical power wink out, like a candle snuffed between two fingers, but the dark, sinister magic had only grown. The fiery object slowed as it descended.
“The destroyer,” Offendorl said in awe.
The object seemed at first like a ball of flame, but then the flames pulled back and revealed a creature inside. The flames took the shape of great fiery wings. The creature was covered with black fur and had thick muscular legs and feet that resembled giant hooves. The feet touched down on the rooftop with a sound like thunder, the stone roof cracking under the iron-like hooves.
The creature’s upper body was similar in shape to a man’s, but was still covered in the short, black fur. Hulking muscles could be seen through the fur, and the creature’s face was anything but human. The face was almost like an empty space that had been filled in with flames. Eyes were visible, set deep into the waving flames. Hair hung down in oily ropes that outlined the fiery face. When the creature spoke, its voice was deep and carried to Zollin and Offendorl, who stood like statues watching what took place inside the ring of fire.
“You summoned me,” the creature said. “I am the destroyer. My name is destruction. You have spilled the blood of the innocent to call me forth. You shall be cursed as the queen of death.”
With that, the creature thrust one hand toward Gwendolyn. The movement happened fast and the hand seemed to plunge into her chest like a sword. The witch gasped in shock, pain, and surprise. Blood gushed from the wound, running down the front of Gwendolyn’s silky dress so that it clung to her body in a gruesome mockery of sensuality.
Then Gwendolyn’s face turned blood red. Her long hair fell from her head and the soft curves of her shoulders and hips thickened with muscles. Her fingers grew into pointed talons and her eyes began to shine with a wicked green light. Then she threw back her head and laughed.
“I give you an army to rule,” the creature said.
Then it held up it’s other arm and the ground began to shake. Zollin knew in that moment that escape was not possible. His fear was so great his chest began to ache with it. The castle rocked and swayed like a tall pine tree in a storm. The creature pulled its hand from Gwendolyn’s chest, leaving a ragged hole in her dress just below her breasts. Zollin saw the flesh take shape where a mortal wound should have been, and dark hair, almost as thick as the creature’s own fur, covered the wound. Gwendolyn’s shoulders were bare and no hair grew there, but the creamy white flesh was gone, replaced by the crimson that seemed to flow down from her face. Her neck thickened with veins, muscles, and tendons until it was much wider than before, the blood red skin pulled tight over the muscles and tendons so that they stood out. Zollin could almost see the blood pounding through the exposed veins.
Then the creature moved behind Gwendolyn, like a servant. The ground was still trembling and then it cracked, like the shell of a walnut. The crack tore the castle in two, causing Zollin to stumble back and then scramble away from the center of the rooftop where the split was. The roof tilted, but did not collapse. The buildings around the castle were not so lucky-they crumbled like ashen logs in a fireplace.
The air was filled with a horrible rending sound as the crack grew wider. Buildings fell, and then the city’s walls-the great, massive stone walls, once considered impregnable-crumbled. The crack stretched wider and wider, and screams could occasionally be heard. The Grand City was now in shambles, but Zollin could not see beyond the light from Gwendolyn’s ring of fire. The dark smoke-like clouds overhead had stretched as far as Zollin could see and grown so thick that the sunlight was completely blotted out.
Then, a new sound was heard. To Zollin it sounded like thousands of warhorses galloping across the field of battle. Smoke rose up from the crevice that had wrecked the city. The crack was still snaking its way east and west, opening up a gulf between the northern portion of Osla and the southern.
Offendorl was on the same side of the castle as Zollin, and both were clinging to the crenellated edge of the rooftop. Zollin felt completely lost in the darkness. A small part of him felt like a little boy again. There were nights after especially hard days with his father when he had lain in bed, the room in their small cottage completely dark, weeping for the mother he never knew. He had always felt out of place in Tranaugh Shire. He wasn’t skilled with his hands like his father, and didn’t make friends easily. He had felt invisible in the village, and utterly alone on those dark nights, almost without hope. He felt that same feeling now. He could see Offendorl in the dim light from the now distant ring of fire. He could see Gwendolyn, terrible and frightening as she gloried in the destruction around her, the nightmarish creature behind her impassive. Still, he felt completely alone.
Then Zollin thought of Brianna, her face clear in his mind. He felt both joy and sadness as he realized he would never see her again. He had loved and been loved by Brianna, and her memory was bittersweet. Then other faces appeared. His father’s face, determined yet loving. Mansel’s face, jovial and passionate. Kelvich, his late mentor, wise and also mischievous. Finally, Todrek’s face appeared. His oldest and best friend who had died in Tranaugh Shire. Guilt once more pierced Zollin’s heart as memories of his childhood friend flashed through his mind. Todrek had not wanted to follow Zollin from the village when the wizards and mercenaries from the Torr had attacked. Todrek had just married Brianna the night before. It had been the culmination of his friend’s dreams to take a wife and settle into life as an adult in the village. Zollin still imagined his friend, fat and happy, with children playing at his feet. That was what Todrek had wanted, but a mercenary’s blade had torn Todrek’s throat to ribbons and Zollin had been unable to save his life.
Then, shattering Zollin’s memories of the past, came the most hideous creatures he had ever seen. They rose on long oval wings like dragonflies. The wings buzzed with frenzied movement and the sound of thousands of the creatures rising from the rocky abyss was the rumble that Zollin thought sounded like galloping warhorses.
The creatures had bodies like horses, with short, thick legs and hooves, but from the chest up the creatures had the bodies of men. Shoulders and thickly muscled arms stretched out, with hands that were like claws. Their faces were oddly human, but their mouths were larger, and great, glistening fangs protruded from between their lips, reminding Zollin of the lions in the Northern Highlands. They also had long flowing hair that hung down past their shoulders to the middle of their backs. It was held in place by golden headbands. Their eyes had the same green glow as Gwendolyn’s now had.
But the worst part of all were the tails, which rose up from the thick, muscular hindquarters of their horse rumps and curled up over their backs. The tails were smooth and jointed, like the body of a spider. And on the tip of the tail was a massive stinger.
The creatures came in waves, pouring out of the dark crevice and swarming over everything in the city. Zollin didn’t think about what he was doing, but immediately began blasting the creatures with powerful bolts of magical energy. He didn’t give much thought to his magic, and the spells certainly weren’t sophisticated. He was fighting for his life and unleashing raw power that lit up the rooftop. Not far away, Offendorl was similarly engaged, sending streams of fire that burned the creatures up. Zollin’s energy attacks made the creatures shake violently, then fall to the ground in smoking heaps, their bodies blackened wherever the magical energy touched them.