The dragon roared, lunged forward as if to finish Riven, and Cale struck. He chose a dark spot in the crook of the dragon's back where his long neck met his chest. Shadowstepping, he put his hands on the creature's scales and cast a spell that poured baleful energy into the dragon.
Scales cracked and blood seeped through the fissures. The dragon roared, spun around, and the abrupt motion sent Cale flying. Before he could interpose his blade, the dragon's jaws snapped closed on his thigh and jerked him into the air.
Cale screamed as the dragon shook him. His regenerative flesh could not keep up with the injuries and he felt his leg tearing away.
Magadon's calm but strained voice carried over the battlefield. "Give in to it," he said, and Cale did not know to whom or what Magadon was speaking.
Cale, upside down in the dragon's jaws, caught a glimpse of the mindmage. An ochre light haloed his entire body, and the veins in his brow, face, and bared arms stood out like latticework. The same ochre light formed around Furlinastis's head. The dragon's eyes-normally as black as onyx-turned as white as Magadon's.
The dragon dropped Cale and he hit the swamp in a heap. Adrenaline and his shadow flesh allowed him to endure the pain, and he leaned on his sword to climb to his feet.
Seemingly dazed, the dragon slowly lowered its head to eye level between Cale and Riven. The huge reptile extended its neck, exposing the smaller, softer, violet scales of its throat. The shadows around the creature swirled.
"Strike," Magadon said, his voice cracking. "The urge will not last for long."
Cale and Riven looked at each other in surprise.
"Strike!" Magadon said.
Cale and Riven lunged forward and struck as one. Weaveshear opened a deep gash in the dragon's throat, just below its jaw. Riven's magically enlarged sabers slashed chasms so deep into the dragon's throat that he nearly beheaded the creature. Black blood gushed from the wounds, soaking them, flooding the swamp.
Furlinastis recovered his senses only in time to die. The dragon reared back, his head flopping grotesquely. He tried to roar but instead gave only a deep, bubbling gurgle through the gashes in his throat. He flapped his wings, shook, and collapsed into the swamp.
Magadon gasped and sagged. Cale and Riven stared at the enormous carcass in stunned silence. As they looked on, the shadow shroud around the dragon churned and darkened. Faces formed from the shadows and swirled in the darkness.
"Mags?" Cale said over his shoulder. The mindmage was weakened and remained stuck in the rock the dragon's spell had transformed.
"Finish it, Cale," Magadon said.
Cale took off his mask and clutched it in a fist. He held Weaveshear loosely in his other hand. "Kesson Rel," he called. His heart rattled his ribs; his breath came hard.
The faces vanished and several smaller shadows separated from the larger shroud. They formed a semi-circle before Cale and Riven and assumed humanoid forms, their outlines shifting like smoke. Hooded cloaks hid their hands and faces.
The one in the center threw back his hood to reveal the face of a man. Short black hair topped a high-browed, angular face adorned with a neat beard. The man looked into Cale's and Riven's faces.
I am Avnon Des the Seer. I was a servant and priest of the Shadowlord, as were all of those with me. You are the Chosen of the Shadowlord in this age.
Cale had no time for such nonsense. "We are taking back what Kesson Rel stole."
Avnon smiled softly. What Kesson Rel took was given him, not stolen.
Cale brandished Weaveshear. "I don't care. I want it. I want him."
The man smiled gently. It is not ours to give.
Behind the assembled priests, the rest of the shroud roiled and formed a towering, amorphous form roughly like a man. Wild eyes looked out of a chiseled face. Horns jutted from his brow. He was Volumvax, or the rest of Volumvax, and he was Kesson Rel.
Kesson Rel raised his arms to the shadowy sky and unleashed a shout of such combined rage and glee that it dwarfed even the dragon's roar.
In answer, flashes of green lightning crosscut the sky.
Cale and Riven shared a look and bounded past Avnon and his fellow priests, blades bare.
"Wait…" Avnon said.
"Low," Riven said.
"High," Cale answered, and shouted at Kesson. "Kesson Rel!"
Kesson took no notice of them.
Riven slashed low at Kesson's legs and Cale stabbed Weaveshear through his chest. Their blades passed through his shadowy form without contact.
Kesson turned his gaze to them and his mouth twisted with contempt. He looked up to the sky and thunder boomed. He vanished.
"No!" Magadon screamed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
30 Uktar, the Year of Lightning Storms
As Rivalen flew back toward Selgaunt, he intoned ward after ward, shielding himself from lightning, cold, fire, and projectiles. He surrounded himself in a translucent sphere of energy that would entirely block lesser spells.
Below him, dozens of Saerloonian soldiers lay dead on the smoking plains, burned by the alchemical fire thrown by the trebuchets. But the rest of the army straddled Selgaunt's toppled wall. Fully half the army fought within the city, while the rest waited for the way to clear for them so they could push through.
Saerloonian soldiers in the rear ranks spotted him as he approached, pointed. A hail of crossbow bolts and a storm of magical energy greeted his arrival. His wards and the shadowstuff in his flesh repelled all of it.
He hovered, pointed an open palm at each side of the breach in the wall, and recited arcane words while crossbow bolts bounced off his flesh and spells lit the air. When he finished casting, a wall of gray stone materialized from nothingness and spanned the breach. Rivalen's magic melded to the wall, sealing off Selgaunt and cutting the Saerloonian army in half.
He followed up immediately with one of his most powerful necromantic spells. Choosing one of the fat Saerloonian wizards he had seen summoning the earth elementals earlier, he recited the incantation. A wave of gray magical energy went forth from his hands, to the Saerloonian wizard, and outward from the wizard in a circle twenty paces in diameter. His spell pulled every drop of liquid from every Saerloonian in the sphere. Pink fluid burst from noses, eyes, ears, groin, and pooled on the ground to form a macabre pond. Men screamed, but only for a moment before their desiccated corpses splashed to the ground in their own fluids. Hundreds died in the span of three breaths. Rivalen offered their death shrieks to Shar. Shouts of fear and anger rose from the army.
Leevoth and his soldiers are to assist the Selgauntans within the city, he sent to Brennus. No krinth. Join me here for sport, if you wish. But hurry.
Hurry? Brennus said. There are thousands of Saerloonians.
Not for long, Rivalen answered.
A ball of flame exploded around him, soaking him in fire. His wards shielded him. He spotted the mage who had cast it and incanted his own spell. A green beam shot from his finger, struck the gray-robed mage in the chest, and reduced him to dust.
More crossbow bolts thumped off his flesh. Two bolts, presumably enchanted, sunk into his thigh and shoulder. He grunted with pain while his regenerative flesh pushed them out and healed the wounds.
He flew down just above the army. More bolts slammed into him. Three sank into his limbs. He endured the pain, let it fuel his burgeoning anger. Upturned faces stared at him with eyes full of fear, anger, awe. He looked down on them and intoned the words to a spell that would infuse him with unholy power. The shadows swirled around him as energy gathered. Some among the Saerloonians broke and ran.