Chapter 16: Blitzkrieg: Part Two

  Ravananaer’s heart was pounding in his chest, a frantic beat driven by panic he was only just able to keep from showing on his face. It thundered in his ears as he tried to shape his power, as well as the power of the others that had been yielded to him.

  “Do not fail.”

  Skloris’ voice came out as a growl, his eyes fixed upon the sight of his golden blood dripping from the slash he had opened up on his own arm. The wound was trying to heal, the flames of the Wild Hunt flickering at its edges, but the centaur’s will held them at bay, letting his golden life fluid fall into the bowl the demi rakshasa held.

  Ichor, the blood of the Greek immortals. Skloris was the grandson of Cronos, and though the centaur was no god or titan, his immortality was his own, not some gift of the Hunt. Hi golden blood held power, power that could be harnessed, if one knew the right magic to use.

  “If you screw this up I’m going to rip out your liver and force you to eat it!”

  Old Hefnd was far less restrained in her words than Skloris. She’d been the harder to convince, being far more eager to rush back into battle with Kali than to donate blood to his plan, but in the end, Ravananaer had been able to persuade her. Now her strange purple-tinted blood was joining his and Skloris’ in the bowl.

  This had to work! It had to!

  The bastard son of Ravana gritted his teeth and tried to shut out the rest of the world as he focused on his task. All around him a thousand and one distractions clamoured for his attention! The Hunt was falling, he could feel it as more and more of his allies desperately drained the collective well of energy they all shared in an attempt to remain in the battle or to return to it. So many drawing upon it, he could feel them threatening to tear the pool of power apart!

  No. No, no, no! he could not let the Hunt fall! What would happen to him if it did? Where would he go?! Where would he be safe?! It had to survive! It had to!

  Desperately trying to swallow his fear and to keep it from showing on his face Ravananaer pushed more of his power into the bowl. Three streams of magic were already there, from Hefnd, Skloris and himself, already they twisted around each other, each trying to consume the others. It was the nature of beings like them, for even their essence to not play well with others even when freed from their veins. Still, that wasn’t a problem, he knew how to work with them.

  The magic of the bowl accepted his direction, forcing the opposing magics together, producing mutual annihilation and trapping the energies released. It wasn’t efficient or artful, but it was powerful and it was fast, and that was what he needed. The roiling mass of magical forces wanted out, and the bowl and his own skills let him channel them into a working of his choice.

  Curses were vicious and cruel workings of magic, but they were present across the entire world. It was the nature of all beings, be they mortal, spirits, fey or gods, to lash out at those who offended them. Be it inflicting illnesses, feeding their lives to a demon, stripping them of good fortune or driving them to madness, every culture and school of magic had found a way to visit misery upon their victims.

  His mother had had some talent in that area, and it was one of the things he had inherited from her. Awakening his divine blood had strengthened this skill, and during his travels the demi rakshasa had learned much, furthering his abilities. Ravananaer acknowledged that he would never be any sort of master in the craft, he could never create subtle and unseen curses that answered his will and bent the world to his desires. All he could create were the equivalent of mad dogs that he could aim and then release, nothing more.

  But that was what he wanted now, a curse, bloody and vicious, eager to tear and rend and destroy. That was what Ravananaer crafted, forcing the struggling energies into the form and temperament that he wanted. He felt it draw more upon him, feasting on his magic to help it complete the last few changes needed to reach completion. It drained him, sapped his strength, but it was finally ready. Putrid and malformed, but deadly and ready. That was what he aimed at the winged demigod. That was what he set loose on him!

  The amalgam of wild energies leapt up, soaring through the sky like an arrow loosed from a bow, its only target the winged figure its creator had been focused on. Ravananaer saw it fly, saw it strike, and saw the demigod fall!

  His heart leapt as he heard one of the angels call out in alarm, but he couldn’t let himself just bask! The demigod might be down, but there were still far too many threats. Kali, Athena, either of them could be a nightmare. If he wanted the Hunt to recover, to claw back from the defeat that almost took them, he needed to do more!

  Before he finished the thought he was already moving, running through the battlefield with a single target in mind, his strength returning to him as he recovered from forming the curse.

  His speed was great, and in only a few moments he was beside the huge mass of ice that encased Herne. Just by being close, he could feel the bitter chill radiating from it, a testament to the power that had formed it. Power enough to trap the Horned Hunter, at least for a time.

  Without hesitation, Ravananaer drew back his maces and then swung them into the ice! Once! Twice! Thrice! Each blow was backed by his considerable strength and enhanced further by the magical weapons he had looted from his father’s palace. Their impacts were thunderous, and he could see cracks starting to form in the ice.

  Not enough! Not deep enough nor fast enough! How long until one of the enemies noticed? Would he have Kali breathing down his neck any moment now?

  Fear gave him more strength, and his blows took on a frantic note as he kept on hammering away at the ice.

  Break! Break! Break, damn you!!!

  CRRNNK!!

  A sudden cracking note sounded out as the fractures that ran through the ice started to spread, even as he halted his attack. The demi rakshasa only had an instant to stumble back before a green and yellow inferno exploded from within the ice, shattering it. Ravananaer was barely able to duck under a shard of ice as big as his torso that nearly took his head off. All around him, he felt more drawing upon the Hunt’s collective well of power as others weren’t so lucky. Still, he had been successful!

  Herne sat upon his steed, wreathed in fire and glaring around him. His wooden spear seemed to glint in light of the fires around him and a palpable pressure surrounded him, a clear indication of the power he was gathering. His eyes caught sight of the demi rakshasa and paused for a moment.

  “Ah, Ravananaer. So you were the one to free me. As I should have expected.”

  What? Was that what he . . . Oh. It would seem that the son of Ravana was finding his reputation working overtime once more. Well, he was not going to correct misconceptions, especially not when they worked in his favour.

  “Come! Our foes shall learn the folly of attacking the Wild Hunt like this!”

  Herne’s words left no room for refusal, a testament to his determination. That was great as far as Ravananaer was concerned. The apparent leader of the enemies was down, and the Hunt had regained their own leader. With any luck that would be enough to turn things around! Sure, they still had a mystic knight, two angels and a pair of dangerous goddesses to deal with, but if Herne could rally the Hunt then they could be dealt with.

  Yes, things were starting to look up.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  “ADAM!!!”

  I heard Joan shout at me, but I wasn’t really in a position to answer as I fell.

  I didn't really know what had happened. One moment I was fighting Loraxis as he started to rise, the next . . . it felt as though I’d been slammed in the soul with a bucketful of cold and slimy filth! I hadn’t felt anything like that since that damned soul parasite thing had tried to eat me from the inside out.

  This . . . this was even more loathsome! The parasite might have been a horrific infestation trying to consume my soul, but at the very least it had been clean, for want of a better word. It had been a foreign entity within me, and though it had torn at me it had been defined and separate. This thing was a mass of rotten, decomposing, clashing energies. Whatever it was couldn’t continue to exist for long, its very nature was too unstable, and it was breaking down by the second.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t need very long. The second it hit me I felt it slip right in, and suddenly I was paralysed, unable to twitch a muscle, even my magic refused to answer me!

  I couldn’t fight back, I couldn’t even breathe, and then I felt my heart seize up. In that moment of stillness, as I fell to the ground, unable to do a thing, I really wondered if I was going to die.

  Then I felt something snap in my chest, and for an ice-cold second, I really thought that I’d just felt my heart give out! Then my right hand instinctively went to my chest, and I realised I could move again. More than that! I could breathe, my heart was beating, and my wings worked again.

  My magic responded smoothly as my wings snapped open and I brought myself to a hovering stop only a few feet from the ground.

  “Adam! Grace à Dieu! You live!”

  Joan’s voice reached me as I floated there, unsure of what had just happened. The saint remained in the air, firing blasts of light at the dragon that was still trying to reach the skies, but I could hear her as clearly as if she’d been standing beside me.

  “Uhhh . . . yeah,” I wasn’t quite sure how to answer, that had all just come out of nowhere, catching me completely flatfooted. “I . . . I think I’m okay.”

  “Adam, you were struck by a curse,” Joan’s voice was tinged with relief, but there was also barely controlled anger and concern there. “I only caught a glimpse of it, but what I saw seemed powerful. Are you certain you are well? Use your magic to check your body and soul. Such spells can have subtle and poisonous effects if you are not careful.”

  I idly waved an arm at a gangly centaur that had suddenly come charging at me from the side, a spear aimed to run me through. Magic followed the gesture, and stone spikes shot from the ground to impale the Hunter, running him through his human and horse bodies and leaving him caught in place. Another Hunter unable to move and unable to heal.

  I didn’t pay him much attention though, most of my focus was turned inward, looking for any trace of that putrid excuse for magic that had forced its way in.

  I found . . . nothing. I wasn’t too sure what I’d been expecting, but nothing at all hadn’t been on the list. I’d felt it latch onto me, onto my internal magic system and the flows of my life force. It had grabbed onto them like some sort of tar monster, sticky and clinging, impossible to dislodge, and now it was just gone, no trace left. How the hell did that happen? It had just stopped everything, my breathing, the blood in my veins, hell, I was pretty sure it had just started to get to work on freezing the thoughts before it . . .

  That thought made me pause, it had been just starting to attack my consciousness when I’d felt that snap in my chest. At the time I’d thought that it was my heart giving out, maybe just breaking under some sort of attack, but the next moment I’d been able to move again.

  I was wearing the armour of Achilles over my t-shirt, leaving my arms bare, so it was a bit difficult to reach under it, but after a bit of fumbling I managed it. The T-shirt had a small breast pocket, part of the reason I’d chosen it. From that pocket, I pulled out a collection of silver and copper fragments, as well as feathers, beads and some bits of black string.

  I’d been saved by Emma’s fetish.

  As soon as the absurd thought ran through my head I had to stop a somewhat hysterical laugh from clawing its way up my throat and out of my mouth. Lord Above, she really had just saved my life, hadn’t she?

  I could remember the feeling of that vile mix of magic just . . . just slipping in! I’d had no protections or defences, nothing! How the hell hadn’t I had anything ready? My mind spun through scenarios and thoughts that began to edge towards panic. What if whoever attacked me sent another one? Emma’s gift was gone, broken, used up. Could I survive another?

  Another Hunter came at me, this time one of those creatures that seemed to be lacking skin and with inhuman features. It was being followed by three of the huge black dogs, all of them wreathed in the fire of the Wild Hunt, though it seemed to be flickering less energetically compared to before. The burning gold of fire answered my internal turmoil, and I vented my fear and frustrations by swallowing them all in a tide of flames that left only ashes behind.

  As childish as it might seem, that did make me feel better. Not all the way, but at least I wasn’t spiralling down into panic.

  Okay, I’d been hit by something nasty, but they hadn’t used anything like that in my past fights with the Hunt, and they hadn’t used it as soon as this fight started. Maybe . . . whoever had hit me with it couldn’t just pull it out casually? Did it cost something to make?

  Whatever the case, I couldn’t just run, we still needed the scabbard. So, what did that leave as options for me?

  The Helmet of Invisibility? For a moment it seemed like an attractive idea, then Hadriel called down more lightning and the idea of being invisible to my allies as well lost a lot of appeal. I didn’t want to end up as an accidental friendly fire.

  So . . . what does that leave me with? Damn it! I can’t hesitate, Loraxis was already getting height, despite the best efforts of Joan and Hadriel. He was just powering through everything they threw at him, I couldn’t see Lancelot anywhere, and Kali was engaged in fighting at least four enemies at once. We’d made a big splash and huge impact, but I could feel the tide starting to turn, slowly, sluggishly, but it was turning.

  And that meant there wasn’t any more time for me to get lost in my head. Yeah, I had worries, but all I could do was keep going.

  Flying up higher I concentrated on my halo. This thing was meant to help me, right? It was meant to be training wheels for my magic. At least until I got good control over it, then it shifted to being a booster. I’d already felt it working both ways, but it was the help I needed right now. I tried to push an idea at it, that I wanted a defence against what had attacked me before, that curse, that vile putrid thing that had slipped right into me, right past my shield and my armour. I wanted some way to keep it out, to stop it.

  I heard the note of my halo change, that constant crystal clear chime growing slightly lower. I also somehow felt the halo above me . . . change, the individual components hovering above me shifting position, altering the shape of my halo into something different.

  And I felt it! An absolute certainty that I had a defence against that curse now. Not impenetrable, not flawless, but it was something, and it was there. And, most importantly, I instinctively knew how it was being done, enough so that I was sure I could duplicate it with some practice! It was help, protection, and a lesson in one! If I had had more time, if I had been in calmer conditions, I’d have loved to sit down and see how far I could take this. Unfortunately, I had more pressing issues to deal with.

  Namely, a huge dragon that probably had a magic scabbard hidden in his mouth.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  Hadriel once more slammed both of her blades into the dragon’s neck with enough force to split a pit fiend in two!

  In response the dragon roared, thrashing its head to the side and ramming her with the side of its jaw. The red-winged angel was sent tumbling, her swords vanished and reappeared in her hands as she righted herself, shaking off the effects of the blow.

  Hadriel felt frustration start to boil in her gut as she stared at the huge beast. The gashes her blades had opened up should have been lethal to any vaguely mortal being, but between its size, sheer toughness and the power of the Hunt, the dragon just endured it all and kept going! Her lightning, which had been devastating to the Hunt in her initial attack, had proven even less effective, meaning that her swords were her best tools against the monster, but now even they weren’t enough.

  “YOU SHALL ALL BURN!”

  The roar of the dragon was almost an attack in and of itself! Hadriel felt her bones rattle from the sheer volume and was sure that had she been as fragile as a mortal her delicate eardrums would have probably burst under the assault.

  The flames that followed that roar, on the other hand, were very much an attack on their own.

  Hadriel dodged as best she could, but the roaring stream of dragon fire was as wide as a river! She felt the outermost feathers of her left wing singe in the heat of the flames brushing them. Further from her Joan also dodged but was unable to fully escape the torrent of fire. A shield of light sprang into being around her, barely keeping her from being burnt, but almost immediately the flames started to eat away at that shield, melting it as though it were nothing but a sheet of ice!

  “Joan!”

  A second shield snapped up around the resurrected saint, this one of colourless arcana. To the angel’s surprise, though it cracked and shuddered, it held against the onslaught of flames, protecting the saint until the torrent of dragon fire finally waned. Glancing down Hadriel saw Adam ascending once more, his face a mask of concentration as he maintained his shield about their ally.

  In truth, the angel was surprised by the sheer strength of the shield. She knew for a fact that only a week ago her charge had not been able to form such a sturdy defence. It was quite remarkable, the way he was growing, and served as proof for a private theory she had been assembling.

  “NO! FALL!”

  A titanic claw lashed out with far greater speed than it should have possessed. The wind howled as it moved, slamming into the shield protecting Joan and smashing it like glass before a Warhammer. Still, Joan was able to avoid it, the wings of her angelic form folding in as she dove, passing under the enormous limb by the width of a feather.

  “Hard to kill, isn’t she? Still, I suppose our Father would hardly have sent her here if she were one to fall so easily.”

  Hadriel’s head whipped around so fast that were she mortal her neck might well have snapped. The form beside her was the slim and shadowed form of the King of Hell, but this time it was more of a ghost, a pale transparent image rather than the creature of fire and darkness she had faced before.

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  Not that the difference seemed to hinder the effigy before her. Hadriel barely had time to cross her swords defensively before claws of shimmering green and yellow slammed into them. The attack was blocked, but the force behind it was relentless, forcing her down until her back and halo slammed into grass and dirt.

  “Oh? There is much less wrath there than before,” the figure said, his head cocking to the side in a way that should have resulted in broken vertebra as he stared down at her. “Did my words displease you when last we spoke?”

  The angel had to bite back a furious retort as she realised that the creature was right. It had unsettled her. Had that affected her more than she thought? Was she hesitating? Was she holding back?

  Again the claws came at her, one after another, left, right, left right! Fast and vicious, the power behind them as cruel and brutal as the words that accompanied them.

  “We weren’t able to finish our discussion last time,” he said, that damned smile still playing across his lips. “So tell me, have you figured out which is more likely? Will you Fall or will you simply fail? Will you allow your flaws to consume you, or will you hold back until your charge lies dead at your feet?”

  How?! How did he know just what to say to worm past her defences so effortlessly? That was her fear, the seed of doubt that had been eating at her. Would she fall if she gave in to violence? If she gave her full effort? Such thoughts had not concerned her before, but now they felt like a millstone about her neck!

  “Perhaps you shall enjoy the pit,” that wretched voice continued, unceasing despite her efforts. “To be able to strike down any you wish, to fully vent your rage and power, to show others how far you truly stand above them, does that not sound appealing?”

  She wanted to snap back a reply, but she could not afford the lapse in concentration. All she could do was continue to defend, turning the blows, being driven further and further back as she retreated in order to bleed off some of the force from the blows.

  “Tell me, if you saw that young demigod dead, would you really grieve? Would you even care? Or would it simply be a blow to your pride, knowing that you had failed? But also, wouldn’t you feel some relief, to not have to cater to him, a descendant of those jumped up apes, anymore?”

  She hated this! Hated that she could not simply ignore him! Hated that those words managed to reach some dark, ugly and terrified part of her that she had been blissfully ignorant of before. Hadriel grimaced as the claws met her swords and another shower of sparks lit the darkening night.

  So strong, and so right . . . how was she meant to fight that? In their last encounter he had retreated because the Hunt had left, but this time he would not be pulling back, he would continue until she retreated, or fell to him.

  Damnation! He was a shade, pale even compared to the effigy she had faced before, and he was still so strong! Thoughts of just how mighty his true self must be threatened to rise in her mind and swamp her, but the angel ruthlessly crushed them down. This imitation was something she had to deal with, and that was all it was, an imitation, a copy created by the Hunt’s magic.

  She almost froze as that thought flashed through her mind. Almost let a claw slip past her defences, but the skills gained from epochs of battle responded even without conscious thought. A sword parried the blow, and she flew back even as her mind processed the thought that had hit her like a thunderbolt!

  A fake. A copy. An imitation. This was not Satan she was facing. It was such a simple thing, but it was not something she had fully internalised until now. She had been so shocked to be facing the demonic aspect of the First Fallen Angel, the corrupted face of Lucifer himself, that she had not taken that in. The words had hurt because they were from the being that was once the greatest of angels, the one that had fallen so catastrophically that it had left a wound upon the Heavens that even the Father Himself had not been able to heal.

  But . . . why should she pay attention to an effigy? This was not the real thing, it was as true as a cheap photograph from obsolete mortal devices. It had an echo of the original’s power and knowledge, but it was just that, an echo!

  Was she so weak that she would fall to nothing more than an echo? Was that all she was worth?!

  She felt her lips peel back from her teeth as she saw the next blow coming, and this time she didn’t block. Instead, she shifted her sword, turning the blade’s edge to meet the claws. It was a move she was familiar with, that she had performed so many times it might as well have been her own name!

  “Maybe you won’t maybe you’ll-”

  His words cut off as the blade cut between his fingers, digging into the semi-transparent, but still very solid, flesh there. There was a brief resistance, then the sword slid in the claws passing it by as flesh and muscles gave way, then ceased as the edge hit unseen bones. In the next instant, Hadriel wrenched the sword to the side, the movement splitting the entire hand apart, the bones holding, but the muscles and cartilage, supernatural though they might be, snapped and popped out of place.

  “You-”

  Again, she did not let him speak! Instead, she drove a heel into his chest throwing him back and away as though he had just been hit by a cannonball. His flickering greenish-yellow form was sent tumbling, granting her a precious instant to take in the battlefield around her.

  The dragon was still ascending, but it was being slowed by Joan and Adam as they worked together to bombard it with a variety of attacks. The creature might be a small mountain of scales and muscles, but even it could not force its way through freely. Below much of the battle was obscured by a new cloud of dust and smoke, but she could make out the huge form of the demigod in bear form and could hear Kali’s crazed laughter as she fought. More forms like the one she fought, forms composed of the sulphurish fire of the Hunt, flicker about, mixed in with the forms of the Hunters as they tried to rally, but she could see them going out in places and guessed that either Lancelot or Athena were at work there.

  It was chaos, there was no other word for it. But this time the chaos did not work in the Wild Hunt’s favour, this time it served her side.

  She had no more time to observe though, because she was darting after the form of her enemy, lightning crackling along the edges of her sword as she swung at him, a blow aimed to cleave him apart if it struck true.

  “Really, are you just giving into-”

  He blocked, but her other sword was already following, aiming for his neck!

  “Such aggression, such viciousness. Do you think that-”

  He ducked, but she let the momentum of her swing carry her around, spinning her as she brought her first sword around once more, the other following it.

  “That is too-”

  This time it was her enemy that had to cross his arms, the scales and spikes of his forearms letting him block her blades in a shower of spark, only to then duck as her foot nearly struck his left temple.

  “I am saying-”

  Her mouth opened, and like some sort of dragon, she exhaled a thin torrent of lightning, a burning bar of crackling energy that struck him in the chest, searing his ghostly flesh.

  “Will you-”

  Both swords came down in overhead chops, a move more suited to a butcher than a warrior, but the power behind them was undeniable.

  “LET ME SPEAK!!!”

  “You have nothing worth hearing.”

  She did not roar or shout her reply. Instead, she spoke it as though addressing someone in conversation.

  It was so simple. She was not weak, and he was not overwhelming. All he had done was bring her weaknesses to the surface and let her slowly drown in them without even noticing. She had hesitated, flinched, given ground, refused to draw on her full strength. Fear of her pride, fear of her violence, fear of failure, all of them had held her back as thoroughly as if she had been wrapped in weights and chains!

  What was it she had heard Adam say on one occasion when he had been frustrated? Ah, yes. Screw that!!! She was not entirely sure as to the exact meaning, but the sentiment was one that she could agree with.

  She felt as though a weight had fallen from her back. Yes, what this effigy had said was true, but the speaker was a whisp, a shadow, a reflection that had escaped a mirror! She was Hadriel, a soldier of the High Heavens and Angel of Swords! She would not Fall, and she would not fail!

  Some small part of her was amazed at how that simple resolution had changed the entire flow of the battle for her. What had seemed overwhelming before was just a challenge now, a high hurdle, but not an impassable one. She had to wonder if there had been some other magic at play, something that weakened her power as her resolve had faltered. But that was all at the back of her mind, mere background chatter that she paid no heed to.

  All her focus was upon the deadly weave of blades and claws that she was dealing with as she and her foe poured on the speed, the air between them becoming a blur of flashing silver and sulphurous green. She could feel her lips drawing back into a grin, an unfamiliar expression for her, but one that she could not repress. This . . . there was an exhilaration to her battle that had not been there before, but which she liked!

  Yes! She would seize victory here, then she would rejoin Adam, bring down that dragon and then defeat the Hunt! She could-

  The blow to her head came out of nowhere. One instant she was beginning to drive the effigy back, the next there was a flash of gold and an impact rattled her head, her vision flashing and her thoughts scattering! Her foe took full advantage, and claws came for her, aimed at her heart!

  Even beset by pain and disorientation her skills served her well. Almost without conscious thought a sword came up to intercept the lethal blow. Her strength was as scattered as her thoughts though, and the block folded like paper. Still, it saved her life, the claws that should have torn her heart instead ripped out her side. It was a grievous and bloody wound, but one she could survive.

  Hadriel plummeted, her flight gone, her divinity no longer holding her aloft. It was her only option, the only chance to leave the battle that she could take. The dust and smoke swallowed her up, and her last thought before she struck the ground was to wonder just what had happened.

  --------------------------------------------------------

  I didn’t see it when Hadriel got sneak-attacked, but I felt it when she fell.

  As the battle had been progressing I’d started to notice that something was . . . changing. I’d been using enormous amounts of magic, but even as each of my attacks expended themselves, and each shield broke, the energy that made them up seemed to hang around, just floating in the air like some sort of invisible mist. Somehow I was aware through that mist. Not perfectly, not completely, but I could sense things through it. It wasn’t sight or touch, I didn’t feel through it, but I was aware of where things were in it, their position, their movements.

  It was more than vague impressions, but it was less than if I was looking at them, useful, but just one more thing I was going to have to work on to get a better handle on it.

  I’d been aware of Hadriel moving closer to me as she fought someone, but with a dragon big enough to eat the average car in one bite coming at me, I didn’t have much time to spare to watch her. I didn’t think I needed to. She’d been struggling, but then she seemed to hit her stride and was turning the tide.

  Then something had come spinning through the air and her head from behind. The impact had been enough that I could sense it through the magic, as sort of shockwave passing through it, and the sound . . . Under any other circumstances, it might have almost been comical, that Hadriel’s head made a noise like that when it got hit. But the way that she just fell afterwards sucked out any sort of humour.

  Instead, I got angry!

  With one hand I gathered Arcana, colourless energy condensing into a telekinetic bolt as large as a grapefruit. In the next instant, I launched it even though the target was behind and below me. The TK bolt curved through the air, acting more like a guided missile than a blast of magical energy, seeking the target I had sensed but not seen and slamming into them with enough force to send them crashing to the ground as well. I did it all on instinct, not really aware of it until after I’d done it. A useful skill, one more skill for the ever-growing list I had to work on.

  My other hand reached for the sky, and as the stars began to become obscured by darkening skies I felt a pressure begin to grow in my head.

  I’d practised using two magics at once before, but that had been on a smaller scale. What I was doing now . . . yeah, it was about as far from small scale as you could get without bringing nukes into the equation.

  Joan was still raining down lasers on Loraxis, her constant barrage not hurting him much, but certainly slowing him down, and that was giving me time to work. The problem was that I didn’t know how long she could keep it up. I knew her angel form wasn’t something she could maintain forever, and if she had a finite time in it then was she burning through it by pushing herself like this? Something I should have thought of sooner.

  Well, she was buying me time, so I used it!

  My brain started to feel as though my skull was shrinking around it, but I kept going, pushing more magic and will up into the sky. The last time I’d done this was when I was fighting Etienne, and back then I’d been running more on desperation and instinct than anything else. I had a bit of a better idea of what I was doing this time, but it was still tough as hell!

  Above me, the sky had turned black. Clouds and darkness merged to turn the sky into a solid lightless mass that seemed to be churning. As I poured more power into it, the sky above me started to moan, then howl as a wind picked up.

  I saw the moment when the dragon realised what was happening. Those burning eyes in their face of red scales darted from Joan to the sky, back to Joan, and then to me, realisation sparking in them, followed by anger and determination. He opened his jaws and I could see the fire building at the back of his throat. Joan redoubled her attacks, her barrage of beams falling away in favour of a single continuous beam of intense light that slammed into the dragon’s head, visibly searing the scales and cracking them. Still, he held on, darting his head this way and that so the beam hit his forehead and horns, the most armoured parts of his head, rather than his more vulnerable spots.

  It bought me just enough time though, and as the dragon’s fire was almost ready I brought my hand down as though yanking something down from the sky!

  My head throbbed with pain, a dull hammering that felt as though my heart was inside my skull and punching my brain with every beat. Still, I kept it together as I felt the clouds above respond to my will. Lightning crackled through the cloud cover, that and the beams of light Joan was firing off and the fires below were the only illumination since the stars and moon had been blotted out. In that intermittent light, I could see a huge shape making its way down, as though some incomprehensibly huge titan was reaching down with a cruelly taloned finger, seeking something to crush!

  “Joan, make some room!”

  I shouted at the angelic saint as I backed off. I knew what was coming, I even had some control over it, but even so, I wasn’t willing to get too close. I knew I was tough, but I wasn’t sure I was tough enough to survive something like that.

  She must have heard me, because Joan was suddenly flying back, still releasing blasts of light, but not as fiercely as she had before. The dragon shook his head, his eyes blinking as he tried to clear them after the destructive beams had probably dazzled him. Then it reared back and released a torrent of dragon fire, the huge jet even greater than the one I’d barely survived before. Still, I wasn’t worried, not this time.

  But before the huge stream of flames could reach me they were snatched away, dragged into the descending finger, revealing what it was.

  The fire twisted, being sucked up into what had been shown as an incredibly concentrated tornado! The fire swept up and through it, as though the sky itself was hungry and feeding through the twister I’d conjured up. All that dragon fire, a torrent that could have razed a skyscraper to the ground, sucked away and spread across the sky, only to fade in the next moment.

  As it turned out, yes, dragons could emote, and the stare of bafflement and incredulity on the massive reptile’s face could have been comedy gold. Unfortunately, at that moment my head felt as though it was caught in a slowly tightening vice. The strain of keeping that tornado contained, and not dragging everyone on the battlefield into a vortex of three hundred miles per hour winds. Well, keep it contained and move it towards the dragon.

  Loraxis saw the danger coming, but by that point, it was too late. He had trusted in his flame too much and had not given himself enough time to dodge. I saw his wings start to beat even more fiercely as he strove for distance, but I was lessening my hold on the tornado’s winds as they drew closer to him. A dragon was a mighty being, but my magic was dragging down one of the most deadly weather phenomena in the world down on his head, and he just wasn’t fast enough!

  Huge as he was, his form was still swallowed up by the twisting column of wind and dust. For a moment I saw more flame light up the inside of the cyclone, further testament to the sheer power of the dragon, but even that was dragged away. I held on for a moment longer, even as the pressure in my head continued to grow . . . then I let go.

  Instantly I felt the difference. My halo started to emit a soothing hum, and the tornado immediately began to dissipate, taking the clouds that had been choking the sky with it. It all happened so fast that if I hadn’t already known magic was involved I could have thought of no other explanation.

  “Adam . . . what was that? Qu'est-ce que tu as fait?"

  Joan hovered next to me, her face calm, but visibly masking some shock.

  “I couldn’t think of anything else to hit him with.” I replied, half joking half serious.

  “Impressionnante,” she commented. “Your power continues to grow.”

  “Not enough though.” I could feel a tired smile tugging at my lips as I waved at the sky. My strength was quickly coming back, but I still felt wrung out. “I don’t think I’ll be able to pull that off again any time soon.”

  Maybe the French Saint would have replied, but anything she might have said was cut off as a huge form fell from the sky. It plummeted past us as if I’d actually managed to call down a meteor, and it hit the earth below with such force that a crater formed and the battle beneath us momentarily stopped.

  It was Loraxis, but the massive dragon was now in a sorry state. Both his wings were broken, crumpled at painful angles, the membrane torn and bones snapped. Crimson scales were cracked all over his body, in some places missing entirely as though they had been torn off. He tried to move, but I could see that at least both the limbs on his left side had been broken by his fall, with the other side being hidden from me by one of his mangled wings. His whole body was covered in wounds, many of them burning with the fire of the Hunt, but others simply leaking blood that somehow glittered in the night. The fires of the Wild Hunt were visibly weak though, unable to cover his whole form. I’d seen him heal from terrible wounds before, like when Kali hurt him, but now he was healing so slowly . . .

  His head rose . . . and then fell, the muscles in his neck giving out. And as the huge head hit the ground I saw something shiny fall from his mouth!

  At first, I thought it was more of his glittering blood, more evidence of his injuries. But then I caught a flash of gold, and I was reacting before I had time to think. Arcana reached out and wrapped around it, pulling it to me so fast someone watching might have thought it was an arrow fired at me. Then it was in my arms, and it felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

  The scabbard, Arthur’s scabbard, I had it again!

  I didn’t have time for more than a momentary surge of joy though. The next moment I was frantically dodging, trying to avoid a trio of wickedly sharp wooden spears singing through the air, a boulder of ice flying like a cannonball and a massive golden club spinning fast enough to make the air whine!

  My shield snapped up in time to deflect the spears but cracked under the boulder. It slowed it though, enough for me to throw myself to the side. I wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge the golden mace though, it caught my left wing, hitting the bones with crushing force, enough that I felt something crunch under the feathers.

  I didn’t plummet, but I did find myself in a downward spiral. The energy pathways in my wings weren’t essential for my flight, but they helped a lot. That injury had disrupted them, and I couldn’t fix it soon enough. Joan was quickly beside me, a sphere of hard light forming around me and slowing my fall until my feet touched the dirt in a controlled landing. I hadn’t been in any real danger, but without her help, my landing would not have been anywhere near as graceful, so I was grateful.

  I still clutched the sheath in my arms, hugging it as if I was afraid it would run away. And that fear might not have been too far from the truth.

  The battlefield was oddly hushed, as though some sort of unspoken halt had been called. Athena, Lancelot and Kali stepped out of the smoke and dust to flank me, each of them largely unharmed, though visibly battle-worn. Hadriel emerged to hover slightly to the side, both her swords ready and a grim expression on a bruised face. Behind us, I heard the loud thumps of a huge form drawing closer, and my new awareness let me know that Mato had decided to join us. Joan was the last to arrive, descending from the sky to touch down just behind me.

  Across from us, Loraxis’ huge body was slumped, but those eyes focused on me with laser-like intensity, never shifting, never blinking. He couldn’t move, but I could see his wounds slowly healing. But so slowly, I knew that our plan had worked, the power of the Hunt itself was wounded, failing. I didn’t know how badly it was hurt, or how long it would last, but for now, it was enough.

  For a moment I considered calling a retreat. We had the scabbard, the Wild Hunt was wounded and scattered, and we could just fly away, literally. We’d be back in the UK before daybreak, and we could have the sheath back to King Arthur, safe and secure. There were a couple of flaws with that plan though. Firstly, it would leave the Hunt behind us, ready to cause trouble because I was sure that they’d be holding a grudge. Without the scabbard, they might choose to hunt me or Mato or go after some other innocent demigod. I wasn’t too sure how I was going to fix that, but I was sure I didn’t want it hanging behind me, ready to stab me in the back.

  The second problem was that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get my allies to leave. Hadriel looked really ticked off, enough that I was guessing that she was taking the earlier sneak attack on her very personally. And then there was Kali. She was grinning like a madwoman, her fists literally dripping blood that wasn’t hers, her chest heaving with the deep breaths of someone having a good time, and her eyes practically burning. If I did say we were leaving . . . well, I didn’t think she’d attack me, but it would probably be a close thing.

  “Return it!”

  The words came out harsh and tight, as though the speaker did not even want to voice their demand. Instead, the were someone who’d rather just attack, and were only just holding themselves back. At first, I wasn’t sure who had spoken, but then I felt them getting closer through my new awareness.

  Herne led them, as they came around the broken form of the dragon. The remnants of the Hunt. The big centaur followed the Horned Hunter, as did Ravananaer, and the crazy woman Kali had been fighting. Following them were ragged groups that quickly merged to form a greater whole. It wasn’t the hoard that the Hunt had been before, but there were still many of them, over a hundred at the very least.

  The green and yellow fire of the Hunt was playing across all of them, and none seemed to be free of wounds, but that wasn’t stopping them. I could see them, ready to fight, unwilling to back down.

  “Return the scabbard!”

  Herne’s voice cracked like a whip. He was on foot, his horse gone, and flames played across a gouge that ran from his right shoulder to his left hip. It was a wound that would have crippled a mortal but did seem to even slow him down. He stood tall, burning eyes glaring at us.

  “My king’s scabbard shall be returned to him.”

  Lancelot’s reply left no room for negotiation, it was as unyielding as a block of iron.

  “We need it.”

  Iron met iron as Herne didn’t waver.

  “Your greed is no reason for my king to be weakened or for his kingdom to be endangered.” The Knight of the Lake replied.

  “We do not abandon our own!”

  The one that spoke was the dragon, as Loraxis heaved himself up onto his feet. One limb was still visibly broken, but it didn’t stop him. Like a mountain moving he rose, fire flickering in his jaws as his eyes remained locked on the scabbard.

  “And we shall not.”

  Herne raised his spear, and the fire of the Hunt played across it, growing brighter and brighter, transforming the weapon into something almost blinding.

  “Few have ever pushed us to this degree,” the Horned Hunter’s voice came out of the light, respect clear in it, but also edged with anger and frustration. “This is where we make our stand!”

  The burning spear flared brighter . . . and then went out as though a switch had been thrown. For a moment I just blinked, unsure of what was going on, then, one by one, starting at the back and coming closer to us, the members of the Hunt burst into flames.

  This wasn’t like before, this time the flames weren’t playing across them or flickering at the edges of their wounds. This time they were the fuel for the fire, the Hunt was burning itself!

  As I realised this more flames burst up around Loraxis, but the flames didn’t burn him, instead I heard snaps and cracks as bones crunched back into place, as scales repaired and regrew. As his wings spread and healed. The fires also flared up, forming ghostly forms, hundreds, maybe even thousands of them!

  In an instant, the momentum of the battle shifted. Where before I’d felt like we were winning, I felt only pressure and a looming dread.

  “Okay, this might not be good.”

  The murmur came from the side, and I was surprised to realise that it was Kali who’d spoken. Her grin was gone, and for the first time since I’d met her, she looked . . . worried? Concerned?

  What had the Hunt done?!