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  When I got within a few pace, Harold pointed his wand to the ground and then yanked it up. The earth obeyed his command and rose under his feet into a singular spire of earth. I stopped running, shocked by my masterful plan getting interrupted. Unless I grew wings, I sure as hell wasn't going to be getting in sword range anytime soon.

  Laughter came from atop the stone pillar, “Good hustle, but I think I shall avoid your sword.”

  “Think again,” I'd been channeling energy into my staff and now I was ready to use it.

  Normally I was all about cold energy and manipulation, but sometimes a girl just needed to let loose.

  I lowered my ward, and channeled that remaining energy into the tip of my staff. I could feel the collected power upon the point, pulsating with the desire to be unleashed upon the world.

  I did so by slamming the iron tip straight upon the rock and unleashing it in pure kinetic energy. Every shred of it came out in a roaring boom of energy that shook into the base, and sent it tumbling backwards. His impromptu height advantage became a falling pillar of ruin.

  It was a stupid decision.

  Stone fell all around me, but the momentum of the shifting rock favored my exertion of force. It sent the whole thing falling opposite of me. A sound of stone clashing with stone caused me to winch as the pillar collapsed to the ground, dust flying up and cover the air.

  The stone crumbling and the endless loud noise meant nothing to me. My mind was lost in a alien sensation that I'd never quite felt before.

  My magic was gone. Burned out by the last spell.

  It was a strange feeling, like having your eye suddenly not work. It wasn't a blackness but an absence of even that, an incapability to notice the constant winds of magic. It was terrible.

  There was a certain numbness to physical pain that I felt while being pelted with stones. The loss of my magic was far worse, utterly eclipsing the physical. Part of me wanted to lament the loss by crying on the ground, or throwing myself from a cliff. Mortals, I had nothing but respect for creatures who could live in such a miserable state. No doubt their ignorance manage to keep them sane.

  It was at times like these that I was glad I was a rational person. The sorrow was suppressed by fact. It would take weeks or months to recover from the burnout but, in time, it was possible. For now, I needed to continue the battle and see it through.

  Weary hands clasped the hilt of the blood knight's blade. I tossed aside my staff, it was useless to me for the time being, and gripped the blade with both hands. It couldn't have weighed more than a few pounds but it proved to be a challenge, my hands were shaking. I managed to put one foot in front of the other and strode into the rubble.

  Gerald's flares extinguished. The dark took hold and I hunted through in with a killers intent.

  I suddenly understood the bloodlust of lesser creatures. Wolves who hunted with a simple intent to kill their prey as though the rest of the world didn't exist. I understood it, because that was how I felt. Harold was my prey. My world. Until his blood drenched my coat, nothing else would matter. He might already be dead, crushed under the high ground he had been so quick to take. That didn't matter. I wasn't going to stop until Iheld his head in my hand.

  The darkness did make the searching hard. Eventually I decided that it would be best to simply sit still and wait for the ambient noise to finish. I propped myself behind a stone and waited, using my keen sense of hearing to notice anything out of place.

  It took a few minutes for the rubble to settle. Even then there was still the occasional tremor from the depths below or just small streams of loose soil that were displace by nothing more than a slight breeze. Those became white noise to me. I was searching for another type of sound. One with more impact and force displacement. I was looking for the steps of a man through the rubble. I got more than that.

  “Forhen!” Harold shouted from somewhere nearby.

  There was a thundering of energy as stones and rubble were thrown backward and away from him.

  I recognized the spell. It was a pulse, a releasing of kinetic energy it all direction about the caster. It was typically used against numerous foes when one was surrounded. It also did wonders to get out of rubble. It didn't make any light but I had more than enough noise to give me a target.

  The ground was too unstable for me to run. Hell, I was pushing it enough by not crawling on the ground. There also wasn't any time to be subtle. I was no longer trying to stealthy hide and wait. It was the time to wet my fangs and claim prey.

  Harold said some more words. A green orb of light illuminated the darkness just as I stepped in striking range. My blade came down.

  Sparks of arcane energy ripped through the air as the enchanted blade slashed cleanly through his ward – the magic dissipating to the touch.

  Harold turned his body to the side and raised an arm. It caught the blade in mid swing, stopping it from taking his head but it cut deeply into his flesh being stopped only by bone.

  I took joy in the sight of his blood.

  Harold let out a shriek of pain and, with his good hand, backhanded me across my face. The blow came in slow motion, adrenaline giving me time to react, but my body was sluggish. There was only time to brace myself and slightly lower my head. The next moment I found myself on the ground, blinded by pain as my head hit stone.

  There are certain times when one isn't quite aware but is also not unconscious. The first time I'd felt this sensation was during a car accident. It happened at a young age, ten or so, we were blindsided by a pickup truck in the countryside. I remembered a flash of light, pain and then I was in the back of ambulance sipping on a cup of hot chocolate. There had been no major injuries – no concussion that might have faded my memory. Even so, I didn't know what happened between those moments. A flash of light, to a cup of hot chocolate.

  That was shock. At least, I think it was. That moment of unawareness where you can't do anything or even remember how you got to where you were.

  That was how I felt.

  I hadn't been knocked unconscious but the blow to my head had made me lose focus on the waking world for some time. It was a struggle to fight back the fatigue, but I did. There was no single thought that helped me. Just time and the cold hatred that told me to keep on fighting.

  I was being dragged, a green light illuminated the ground.

  There was a pain upon my scalp. I came to realize that my long, blonde hair had been pulled together into a single bundle and that I was being hauled across the vast darkness. Everything hurt. I must have been pulled for some time as I could feel a burning on my backside where some of my skin was brushing against the floor. It was all I could to let out a deep groan of pain while my hands struggled to make the floor stop moving.

  “Thank the master,” Harold said as he continued to drag me, “I was worried you might have broken something in that stubborn head of yours. Almushil wouldn't like that.”

  I grunted something but no words came out. My mouth was too dry. I looked for anything of use and only noticed a trail of blood from my captor. That made me a little happy. At least my blade had done damage.

  “Yes yes, I know it hurts now but you needn't worry,” he cast a look down at me and grinned, “I'm a medical professional after all. A few days of fleshcrafting and those scars will go away. Can't have the master's newest concubine being so scuffed up.”

  I gave up trying to break free. Electing to bind my time. Somehow I managed to ask the question, “Why me?”

  “Always the same question. Always the same answer,” he said with a grin, “You have great potential. Magic would flow from your fingertips like a storm if you were as smart as you think you are. You are also a woman. Those are the traits most valuable to my master. It makes you his.”

  I coughed, dust filled my mouth, “Seems like a lot of work to rape someone.”

  A glint of light, the slightest reflection of something on the ground. It was hard, but I managed the strength to lift it up. A piece of rock,
heavy and hard. Enough to knock someone out if I managed to get the chance. I clasped onto it with everything I had.

  “Needn't you worry about that darling. You will be more than receptive to the master before the appointed time. All of the previous concubines were like you once – unwilling and headstrong. It doesn't take long to destroy a mind, I think you know that. Isolation, fear and the greatest manipulator of all, hope. My master had perfected these tools. I've never known anyone to withstand his torment for more than a few hours, yourself included. They all come out the same. Loyal, obedient zealots.... all too willing to offer their souls and body.”

  I shuddered.

  Almushil was a demon. A true evil of existence. I'd felt his presence in my mind once. It had turned me into a tool without my ever even knowing. That was from a brief contact. Almushil hadn't even been physically manifested, just a spirit. If I were brought before his true presence, I knew my soul would be forfeit.

  “You said he had other concubines. Why does he need another? He want a harem?”

  Truly evil laughter spilled from Harold's lips, “They didn't survive the mating. They used great spells to protect themselves. Regeneration wards, elixirs to protect from disease...things of that nature. It didn't matter. Almushil 'affection' tore them apart. It's in his nature.”

  Irena was starting to look like a very reasonable person by comparison. She drove a hard bargain but at least she didn't murder her lovers. Well, not that I knew. She was a vampire after all, they weren't exactly known for their restraint.

  “I'm honored,” I cough between words, “All of this for me.”

  “Don't flatter yourself. True, befriending Gerald and Natasha allowed me to get into contact with you, but my primary mission had simply been the destabilization of the region,” he stopped pulling for a moment and showed me his teeth, “Happy coincidence that you showed up.”

  That was when I pulled together what strength I had and struck. He'd made the mistake of pausing his constant pull for a moment. It allowed me enough leverage to push up with my leg, twisting my body so that I could bring the rock in my hand down upon his wrist. His eyes were closed in smug confidence. It gave me just a second of surprise and that was all I needed to slam his good hand with what little force my body provided.

  The rock hit home, there was a cracking of bone and then he howled, “Bitch!”

  I was a small thing, not weighing much and little of that was muscle. It all came crashing into his body in what might have been the sloppiest tackle of human history. If both of his arms weren't damage, Harold would have easily broken it and tossed me to the ground. He wasn't though. He was tired and worn out. A tumble from an earthen pillar of your own creation would do that. He hadn't even created a new ward after my sword broke his last one. I took him to the ground where both of us had the wind knocked out of us.

  He tried to kick me, I ignored his blows as we were close enough that they didn't pack the momentum needed for an effective attack.

  My targets were clear. His hands. Both of them were beaten up by my previous efforts. His right arm was hanging limp, a wound caused by my sword and his wrist had just taken a bit of rock – something had fractured in his wrist.

  Feral strength came to my as I clawed and squeezed upon his wounded limbs. This was no elegant duel of arcane master but a thuggish brawl of pain and savagery.

  He screamed out in pain when my fingers hooked in the sword wound. I dug into muscles and pulled. His body spasmed but he was far from dead.

  Harold brought up his other hand about. I blocked it and slammed my head down upon his. I'd never headbutted someone before, but I understood the theory. Forehead into nose. It was a strange sensation, like hitting a frozen sponge, but it had the desired effect.

  Harold recoiled. He then guarded his face with a hand, instinctively trying to protect himself from my assault.

  That gave me a moment to think. I needed to end this fight. I needed to kill Harold. Not just because I hated him, he was tied to the soulwell. Until his heart stopped beating, none of my efforts would mean a thing.

  Biting was a terribly undignified thing, reserved for animals or lovers. Yet there is always a time to cast aside dignity and become a beast. I choose that path.

  With pearly white teeth I learned down and bit upon his Adam's apple.

  It was strange to know how easily human flesh could be ripped away when one abandoned the mental barrier. It wasn't harder or any stronger than a juicy stake. Sure, there were muscles built in, but it was little compared to a human's ability to chop down and tear. There was a pounding on my shoulder and a muffled scream that reverberated through his throat. It was the death throws of a mad man.

  I paid no mind and just enjoyed the metallic taste that entered my mouth.

  My work was far from done. My hands joined in and began to work away at the connected bits, pulling them out of the way so I could tear at the more sensitive flesh.

  At some point I was thrown on my back, but Harold didn't have the strength to full dismount me. We tangled on the ground like a pair of lovers, my legs wrapped about his hips and my hands were always near his face and neck. Even my lips were on his skin but I doubt he enjoyed my touch. Though I enjoyed his. Frantic screams and flailing limbs told me I was doing a good job.

  With a viscous yank, I pulled clean a piece of deep tissue and gaze upon my enemy.

  Harold was dead. He had been for some time. I'd known it subconsciously but my bloodlust had compelled me to make sure by tearing apart his neck until I could see the white of his spine. I went back to work and didn't stop until his head was torn from his body – ripped off by my own hands and a rock that I used to break the bone.

  It may have seemed unnecessary, but I'd already encountered one undead that day. Cutting a head off tended to end that possibility.

  Adrenaline ended, pain took hold and I collapsed on the ground.

  Darkness swirled about me, pure and relenting in its depth. It was the sort of darkness that I feared, the reason I kept my light on at night. Within it could lurk any number of evil creatures or even Almushil himself. It had taken time to kill Harold. Maybe even time enough for the demon to manifest from the soulwells.

  My paranoia took to new heights when I saw movement in the shadows of darkness. I closed my eyes, a child once more, and just hoped that if there was anything there it would pass me by. It must have, no monster grabbed me.

  Curling up on the ground, cold with the cooled blood of enemy, I began to shiver as fatigue took its toll. My eyes closed. I only hoped that no more monsters lurked in the darkness. And that, if they did, they would at least kill me quickly. I didn't have the energy to put up a futile fight.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Light filled my eyes, blinding me and causing me to awake in a spastic motion. A hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me down to the ground. Another soon joined the first and before I knew it I was being immobilized as light continued to overwhelm my sight.

  The brightness disappeared and I saw an odd looking man. He was dressed as though he were in a warzone with a helmet, vest and what looked to be a number of military accessories strapped over his chest. Upon his chest was an usual symbol that I didn't recognize – a shield over which a sword and torch were crossed.

  “Easy girl,” he said, his tone light and chipper with a distinctly English accent, “You may be a bit confused, you just took a hell of a beating, but we got you now. We aren't here to hurt you so just relax while I assess the damage.”

  The taste of blood in my mouth dissolved all confusion. It was Harold's. He was dead and these folks must have been the reinforcements I called in.

  “Took you long enough.”

  He grinned at that, “Arbor sends his regards. Would have been in sooner but you wizards known a thing or two about defensive magic. Had to create a small enough breech so that we could manage the soulwells and send fire teams through.”

  I raised an eyebrow, “You knew about the soulwells.”
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  “The briefing mentioned something like that was a possibility. Didn't take our magic boys long to imply the rest on account of all the spooks running over the place. That woman, Natasha, she confirmed the rest and helped us get everything under control.”

  “What about the others?” I asked, my voice hoarse, “The safe room i-”

  He put a finger to my lip and brought out a canteen from the side of his belt. He pressed the container against my lips and I lapped at the water like a dehydrated puppy.

  “Mixed news, lots of dead but most of the children got out alright. A justicar was holding them behind a barrier. Bastard's ward was being battered by a bunch of the reanimated dead, but he somehow managed to hold it together long enough for us to make it through.”

  I let out a sigh of relief.

  Not everything went well today. Who knew how many wizards were murdered or how many creatures had slipped forth from the abyss, but I could take some semblance of comfort in knowing that Gerald was still alive. It didn't do much to help against the fact that Ethan and Jessica, people I wanted to help, were dead, but you couldn't always save everyone. With a nod I closed my eyes and allowed the man to continue his work.

  He ran a number of test on me. Not with needles or blood samples, but basic things to insure I didn't have some hidden brain or spinal damage. It was a professional affair with a lot of prodding and me winching, but everything seemed to be intact... everything but my magic.

  It was still gone and would be for some time. The sensation felt odd, as if the world were drained of purpose. If I were to never reconnect with my magic, I knew I'd go mad.

  The medic seemed content and ordered that a stretcher be brought to carry me out. That was a good thing. It meant that the battle had died down to the point they could afford the luxury of evacuating the wounded.

  It took time but a number of lights began to appear from the darkness. Light that came at the end of a gun, dozens of them in fanned out formations. They also wore some strange cover to their face that I figured must have aided them to see in the dark. I was just happy for more light. The darkness had been beaten back and once more I survived it. No monster came for me in my slumber though I wouldn't have been surprised if some lurked in this place.