I am an Orien, with Orien powers freed.
With a howl that would have challenged the cry of a demon, Vaddi released this welling power.
“Vaddi!” screamed Zemella, for the youth had disappeared.
“What in Khyber—” gasped Fallarond, looking about him in fear.
“There!” said Nyam. “Beside the vampire!”
Vaddi had transported, made the brief leap across the void, and appeared beside the hooded Murughel. The latter reacted swiftly, blocking Vaddi’s sword thrust that would have run Caerzaal through. The Murughel brought the haft of his own sword down, intending to knock Vaddi senseless with a blow to the temple, but the youth ducked away, using his new power to accelerate his movements. He beat away the Murughel’s sword and rammed the point of his own blade into the hood, the blade grinding on neck bone and cutting it in two, but the Murughel still moved, flinging a ball of light from his free hand.
Vaddi dodged as the light fizzed past his ear and splattered apart on the stones behind him. Again Vaddi drove his blade forward and this time the head of the hooded Murughel swung forward on the creature’s chest. Caerzaal kicked the crippled Murughel aside and stood before Vaddi with his own sword raised. It glowed faintly red, as though the blood of its many victims had been trapped inside it, giving it greater power. The blade wove a dazzling pattern, blurring in a cloud that made it seem as though a dozen such blades cut the air.
Behind him, Vaddi heard a shrill scream and knew that Sethis had emerged from the pit. He dared not look back. From beyond Caerzaal, a score of his own warriors came forward out of the darkness, more silent and death-like than the Murughel.
“You have no advantage, Vaddi,” said Caerzaal as his blade clashed with the elf blade in a cloud of hissing sparks. “Hand me the horn. I will send Sethis back and set your friends free.”
Vaddi was only too aware of the immense bulk of Sethis as it boiled up from the depths, its massive head blocking out the moonlight, weaving this way and that, now several scores of feet above the rim of the pit. Beyond Sethis, the remaining rows of the Murughel still waited in statuesque silence, as if mesmerised. Behind them, creeping forth from the darkness of the jungle, the Madwood’s own regiments of creatures slid, hopped, and crawled up the stairway to the pyramid, eager to pay homage to the horrific god of the depths.
Vaddi pulled open his shirt and took out the horn. He held it up, and in the gleaming light of moons and stars, Caerzaal’s face lit up with crimson fire, a look of intense lust in his eyes.
“Shall I defy us all and give it to Sethis himself?” said Vaddi.
“No!” screamed Caerzaal.
Vaddi realized he had struck a nerve. Perhaps there was a way to defy the Emerald Claw. He drew back his hand, Erethindel held high, and made as if to toss the horn into the pit.
“Vaddi, don’t release it!” came another cry.
It was Zemella, Vaddi turned for an instant, his glance taking her in at the edge of vision, shaking her head frantically. In that second, Caerzaal struck, his sword swinging across and striking a glancing blow that rang against the horn itself.
Vaddi felt a tremendous charge of energy, his fingers, hand and upper arm rendered numb. The horn was torn from his grip and flew back toward the pit. Caerzaal staggered forward, eyes riveted on the sacred object as it hit the paving slabs and rolled onward. Vaddi did not turn to see what had happened. Instead he ran his blade up under the rib cage of the vampire with such force that he lifted him from the ground. As Caerzaal’s body fell backward, the elf blade firmly held in place by the sheer power of the strike, he pulled Vaddi over with him, and they crashed down to the stone. Vaddi’s face was inches from that of the vampire. His eyes still gleamed with malice, as though the dreadful strike had merely scratched him.
Erethindel rolled to within inches of the lip of the pit. As he struggled, Vaddi saw Nyam and Zemella standing rigidly, not daring to move while the questing head of Sethis hovered. He saw it like a titanic cloud above them, swinging this way and that, eyeless but with an open mouth the size of a cave, triple-ringed with needle-like teeth. It exhaled a foetid breath worse than any sewer, a gust that swept the company further back. Somewhere behind them, Vaddi heard the voice of Tallamorn lifted in a chant.
Vaddi realized that Caerzaal could not control Sethis while locked with him. The beast must be confused, for the huge serpent head still swung this way and that, momentarily indecisive. For all its size, Vaddi guessed, it must lack a real brain, relying on the power of its callers to guide it in this alien light!
He heard the Deathguard adding their voices to that of the necromancer, and as their combined chant swelled, Sethis swung round, now facing the Murughel and the swarming denizens of the Madwood beyond.
Fallarond raced across the stones to where Vaddi was being drawn closer and closer into the embrace of the vampire. Caerzaal, drenched in blood from the wound inflicted upon him, laughed as he locked his arms about Vaddi and tried to drag the youth’s neck down to where he could sink his fangs into it. Vaddi could hardly move. He strained to call upon his powers to snap free, but Caerzaal, too, had access to immense supernatural power.
Something dragged at his shoulder, and Vaddi was hauled partially aside. There was a blur of light descending in an arc of stars. Caerzaal screamed, the sound almost deafening Vaddi.
Fallarond had pulled him aside sufficiently enough to use his sword, and with the blade had cut clean through the neck of the vampire. Caerzaal’s scream ceased as the head sprang away in a bloody fountain and skittered across the stones before coming to rest in a pool of its own gore. For a while Vaddi still felt the vile grip of the vampire’s arms, but Fallarond hacked them ruthlessly aside, freeing the youth.
“The horn!” cried Vaddi as he lurched to his feet.
Both turned. They saw where the horn had come to a stop, so precariously close to the lip of the pit. A few feet from it, the scaly body of Sethis still wove from side to side, but the beast, now directed by Tallamorn’s sorcery, had focused its attention and its appetite on the forces below. The massed ranks of the enemy, fronted by the remaining Murughel, waited in apprehensive silence. Instead of coming to witness a sacrifice, they were to be that very sacrifice. Sethis opened its immense mouth and dipped down, sucking up a score of hapless victims, the rows of teeth closing over its writhing feast.
Vaddi realized that Fallarond was reluctant to go to where the horn had fallen. The Deathguard commander nodded to him, but as the youth sheathed his weapon and prepared to fetch the horn, another vast shadow fell across this nightmare arena. Instinctively Vaddi and Fallarond ducked down as that shadow lowered over them. They heard members of the Deathguard letting loose arrows up into the night sky at whatever new horror the Madwood had unleashed.
Vaddi saw then what had come. It was not of the Madwood’s making. It was a soarwing.
Perched upon its shoulders, hunched forward, directing the aerial monster, was its rider, only partially glimpsed, but surely Aarnamor. In spite of its huge bulk, the soarwing glided gracefully overhead, swooping down with deliberate intent. Its claws were huge and could have lifted a man with ease, but it was focused on one thing only—Erethindel. Too late Vaddi realized its purpose and ran forward. The underbelly of the soarwing struck him a glancing blow, enough to bowl him from his feet. As he struck the stones, he saw the claw tip curl around the horn.
Then it was lifted, gone from sight. The soarwing swerved to avoid the massive bulk of Sethis and rose up into the darkness of the night.
“Two riders!” cried Fallarond, helping Vaddi to his feet.
Vaddi gazed upwards in fury. “Two? Then the second was Cellester. He has part of his prize.”