But I am not content.
Rage burns like wildfire through my consciousness. It is born in the mind of the fiend and dwarfs everything else in my mindscape. Its fire consumes the weak barricades of conscience that try to stem its spread. What little of the man that remains in me flees before it. Bits of regret, guilt, love, leak out of the conflagration of my rage and flee my mind.
I am hate.
And I am power.
My mind reaches out into the world, senses the minds of other creatures, some of whom are responsible for what happened to me. My hate is indiscriminate.
With a slight effort of will, I cause Sakkors to move toward the Shadowstorm.
Kesson pronounced the last word of the disjunction and it shredded Rivalen's sphere of anti-magic. Rivalen rolled over, felt in the grass for his holy symbol, found it, and closed his hand over the cold metal. He climbed to his feet, hissing with pain.
Agony blurred his vision. His withered arm hung limp from his shoulder. The shadows enshrouding him had cushioned his fall, but the impact had still ruined his body. Shattered ribs stabbed into his lungs, filling them with blood, and his wet breathing bubbled. One ankle was shattered, causing him to hobble. A ringing sounded in his ears. Shadows spun around him as his regenerative flesh tried to undo the worst of the damage.
Across from him, Kesson, too, climbed to his feet, his dark eyes fixed on Rivalen. One of the bones of his forearm jutted from his dark skin. One of his white horns had broken at the halfway point. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth. His breathing was rapid, labored, his eyes glazed. No doubt he, too, had shattered ribs and a cracked skull.
Rivalen heard the sizzle of a triggered contingency and in an instant, all of Kesson's wounds healed. Rivalen cursed as Kesson spread his wings, glared at Rivalen, and mouthed words of power. Energy gathered in both his hands.
Rivalen stumbled backward, clutching the holy symbol of Shar, and incanted a counterspell. His words rose in opposition to Kesson's as he pitted his power against the burgeoning energies gathering in Kesson's hands.
The magical ring on his finger warmed, and the connection opened. Rivalen felt anger pouring through the mental link. It filled Rivalen's mind, caused pressure behind his eyes, and broke his concentration on the counterspell.
I know what you did to our mother, Brennus said. You murdered her in a meadow of flowers.
The shadows spun around Rivalen. His thoughts spun similarly. He backed away from Kesson, backed away from Brennus's accusation, all while triggering a defensive ring, amulet, and necklace.
Brennus-
Say nothing! Brennus said. I will not hear your denials, your rationalizations! You murdered my mother!
The anger pouring through the connection turned to grief. Rivalen knew that Brennus was sobbing. He had no time for it.
Kesson advanced on him, wings drawn in, power in his hand.
Rivalen tried to gather his thoughts, cast his own spell, but his brother's words had scrambled his concentration better than anything Kesson could have said or done. He found it difficult to take hold of his thoughts. They raced around from possibility to possibility. He could pin none of them down.
I wish you to die, Brennus said.
You may get that wish, Rivalen said, and flew into the air.
Brennus seemed not to hear him. But you are my brother and it will not be by my hand. The spell sequence I provided to you before will kill you if you use it.
Rivalen had nothing around him but air yet he felt walls closing in on him, his plans unravelling before his eyes, the thread of his life being pulled from the weave of history.
I will not cause your death but neither will I cause your deification. I will simply hate you forever.
The words pained Rivalen faintly. He had felt closer to Brennus than other members of his family.
I have not told the Most High, Brennus answered. Nor will I. This is between us, Rivalen. And it will be between us forever.
Rivalen understood Brennus's meaning. He had lost his brother. Soon he would lose his life. He was about to speak when a surge of surprise carried through the connection
What is it? he asked
Sakkors is moving, Brennus answered, and cut off the connection.
Rivalen glanced back and saw Kesson touch himself with his right hand as he completed a spell-an illusion, perhaps- that caused his form to shimmer for an instant, after which he extended his left hand at Rivalen and fired a line of orange energy that Rivalen could not avoid.
Rivalen screamed as his body exploded and he fell back to earth.
Broken bones and damaged organs caused Furlinastis to roar with pain. Blood poured out of him, fountaining around the giant's sword that spiked his chest. He was dying, vaguely aware of the Lathanderians forming up somewhere near him.
Unable to take revenge on Kesson Rel, he decided to take it on Kesson Rel's creatures.
Lurching forward into a mass of giants, he crushed two under his body, impaled another on his right claw, pulled the giant to his mouth, and bit him half. The blood and flesh fired his rage and he roared anew.
The giants shouted and bounded forward. Blades rained down on Furlinastis's scales. Giants shadowstepped atop his back, tried to drive their blades down into his spine. He lurched, throwing them off of him, crushed another under his body, and tore the arm off another with his fangs.
But some of the giants' blows penetrated his scales. Furlinastis leaked shadows and blood. He was slowing, weakening.
Cale and Riven stepped through the darkness and materialized two strides behind Kesson Rel, in time to watch Rivalen's body burst in a shower of blood as veins and arteries exploded outward from his flesh. The Shadovar prince fell to the ground in a twitching heap of glistening gore. Shadows still streamed from his ruined body.
"High," Cale said.
"Low," Riven answered, and both lunged forward, blades bare.
Cale took a two-handed slash across Kesson's throat; Riven stabbed his sabres in the middle of Kesson's back.
Their blades passed through him as if he were air.
"Illusion," Cale said, as the image disappeared. Riven cursed.
Kesson's voice, intoning a spell, carried on the wind from somewhere to their right. They whirled, sought him, saw nothing.
Holding his mask, Cale spoke a brief prayer and a circle of force radiated outward from him in all directions to about twenty paces, countering invisibility in its path.
Kesson appeared, hovering low over the plains, energy gathering in both his hands.
"I have Rivalen," Cale said, and winced as a wave of Mogadon's mental energy caused a spike of pain in his head. "Go."
Riven nodded, and charged Kesson.
I am power, Magadon said in Cale's head, his voice an echo of Mephistopheles's. And I am hate.
Riven threw one of his enchanted sabres at Kesson as he charged. The curved blade, poorly balanced for throwing, cut an irregular arc through the air and struck Kesson in the shoulder. If the blade cut flesh, Riven couldn't tell. He could tell that it had no effect on Kesson's casting.
Kesson's dark eyes fixed on Riven. He flapped his wings, pointed both hands.
Cale shadowstepped to Rivalen's side and gagged at the stench. The Shadovar's body had been opened, as if his skin had been unbuttoned and the vitals pulled forth. One of his arms was little more than a withered stick.
Blood vessels, tendons, intestines all lay in a twisted heap on the ruins of his flesh. His eyes fixed on Cale, still aglow, filled with rage and pain. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing more emerged than a wet gurgle. Cale saw that Rivalen's hand still held his holy symbol, slicked with his blood. Perhaps the Shadovar's regenerative flesh would heal him in time. Perhaps not.