Chapter Thirty-Two

The Battle for Creation

Foufell. The Hell of Hells.

An enclosed, cavernous hall, reeking of brimstone and blood. The rough-hewn walls were bristling with needle-sharp spines of rock. Some parts of the walls seemed more organic, leathery or even fleshy, breathing and pulsating wetly.

Shaped without rhyme or reason were many mirrors. More like liquid voids of tarnished silver than polished glass, through them could be glimpsed pieces of the world they knew, and some of places they knew not.

Above, thrashing against the stone ceiling like an entrapped animal, a storm of black and red clouds raged. Green lightning flashed and sparked, lashing out at everything and nothing.

All eyes were drawn to the middle of the chamber. Upon a throne of stone carved out of fury and spite sat their enemy: Terrorblade, the Demon Marauder, Devourer of Souls.

This was no flesh-proxy, no vessel unwilling or entrapped in a dark, fruitless bargain. This was the true form of their foe.

He raised his head, glaring at them with his sinister glowing green eyes. His face had no visible skin, it was as if he had only muscle exposed, dark crimson, blunt and grim. Two horns extended from the top of his head, glowing faintly at the tips. His body was sheathed in a metallic, segmented carapace. He had wings, if they could be called that. They seemed more likes fans of long, sharp blades. A glowing red jewel adorned the thick belt girded about his waist, holding up long lengths of hide covered in black scales.

'Brave of you to come to my domain, mortals.' Terrorblade murmured, his voice low but carrying. 'Brave and foolish. You would have been wise to flee to the furthest corners of the earth.'

'There is no wisdom in fleeing from you, Terrorblade.' Auroth stated. 'You would have returned sooner or later.'

'And yet you bring me what I seek: Slyrak's soul, and capable vessels—so many useful and powerful ones to choose from.' Terrorblade's eyes ranged over them hungrily. 'You, Winter Wyvern, would make a fine vessel until I could claim another Eldwurm. Yet imagine the power I would wield if I took the body of the little handmaiden.'

Mirana tensed. Her bow was lowered, but she drew back the string a little. Her narrowed eyes were fixed on Terrorblade.

'You needn't worry about the Dark Moon, Princess of the Sun.' Terrorblade chortled. 'You will be dead long before Mene returns, and She will be amongst my many victims when I claim my prize.

And you, Davion. You, I thank for bringing me what I seek.'

'I didn't come here to give you anything, Terrorblade.' Davion growled. 'None of us did.'

Terrorblade chuckled and slowly stood. He had to be at least eight feet tall. Two wicked blades flew from behind the throne and hovered next to Terrorblade's hands, not held by him, but subject to his whims.

'Do you believe that I can be overcome by a mere force of arms? What a sorry delusion you have laboured under!' He grinned. 'Your numbers will not help you. I have my own army.'

He spread his arms, and all about his flanks appeared a spectral host. They were barely corporeal, a shambling host not unlike the one they had faced in the mortal world. All of them had gaping wounds, chunks torn from their bodies, limbs missing. All of them had an empty void where their hearts should have been.

Davion recognised one of them. A paunchy man with a wide, flabby face. Frühling.

These were the souls of the ones Terrorblade had taken, some by dark bargains, others by force. They were like the shambling hordes they had fought at Dragon Keep—plentiful, but unskilled.

'These are but shadows,' Purist spoke quietly, gripping his hammer tightly. 'Pale spectres of Terrorblade's victims. They are many, but less than they were.'

'I can see the mirror we need to return.' Caewyn whispered. They followed the direction of her gaze, to a mirror behind Terrorblade and his victims. It was embedded in the sloping wall, a twisted silver mass through which the battlefield at Dragon Keep was visible.

Of course it would be there.

'Then we cut through this horde.' Eserren lifted her bardiche. 'Keep them off Davion, and clear a path to the mirror.'

'Caewyn, Aiushtha, Luna and I will take the other mirrors.' Mirana murmured as Caewyn climbed onto Aiushtha's back. 'Marci,' she looked over at her handmaiden. 'You know what to do, my friend.'

Marci nodded firmly, golden lights sparkling in her eyes. Auroth had changed into her natural form, cold vapours hissing between her teeth.

Davion smiled at Marci. Her face softened for a moment and she reached out, clasping his hand.

There was nothing more to say.

It was time to end this.

Davion pressed his sword into Marci's hand and let the song flow through his head. The scales burst from his skin and merged with his armour, and the great wings unfolded from his back as his body swelled. He was aware of Slyrak in his mind too, but he was still in control.

He charged, and the others followed in his wake.

Terrorblade bared his teeth and whirled his scythes. His horde, numerous if individually weak, moved to meet them.

Auroth flew overhead, spewing her freezing breath, cutting a swath through the remnants of Terrorblade's victims. A flash of light flared in the corner of Davion's eye. Marci swung the sword, slashing through five spectres with one swing. Their forms shattered into greenish fragments, dissipating into nothingness.

As Davion swung his fist at Terrorblade, Eserren, Garrisan Jorsen, Purist and Donté began to bludgeon and cut their way into the horde.

Terrorblade snarled and leapt away from Davion, responding with both scythes. Davion jumped back too, feeling one of the scythes bite into his scales. A shallow wound, but the scales were no defence against those fell weapons.

Around the edge of the chamber, Mirana and Caewyn, borne forth by Sagan and Aiushtha, loosed arrow and bolt at the mirrors. Luna rode before them, cutting down any foe in their path with her blade, Nova roaring and clawing at anything which strayed too close.

Ritterfau's armour erupted with light, too much for the remnants around him. He thrust forth his longsword, a spear of light racing to pierce the ragged forms of Terrorblade's victims. Spears of ice fell upon more of them as Rylai, covered by Jorsen, moved across the chamber. Auroth swooped overhead, hurling spells and unleashing her freezing breath with devastating effect.

Davion and Terrorblade continued to exchange blows. Davion just had to keep him busy for now. Even now, Fymryn, Rylai and Donté had reached the mirror leading back to Dragon Keep. Fymryn's shadowy copies kept drawing the enemy away, and crescents of darkness cast from her sword swept through their ranks. Rylai hurled shards and blocks of ice, throwing gusts of freezing wind laced with dagger-sharp shards. Bram's armour emitted forks of lightning, clearing a path for Garrisan and Eserren. Marci was scything her way through the hordes around Terrorblade and Davion, fire trailing from her loaned sword, her eyes glittering with light. Mirana and Caewyn were shattering the mirrors as Terrorblade fought Davion. He only needed one mirror, and they needed one to escape. The unwilling remnants of his victims kept coming, he had many to spare and cared not for how many he lost.

'Bram!' Ritterfau cried. 'Bram! Help me!'

He was beset by a large group of spectres, too many for him to overcome alone. Bram rushed towards Ritterfau, but he was too late. The hands of the remnants clawed into Ritterfau, passing through his armour, their shadowy weapons carving into him. His screams became blood-choked gurgles as they dragged him down.

Terrorblade's scythes slashed across Davion's chest again, cutting away more scales and drawing blood this time. Davion staggered back, one hand clutching at the wound. Fire erupted from his jaws.

Terrorblade's wings flashed out and he gracefully flew aside. He laughed as he lunged, attempting to spear Jorsen through the back.

Marci rushed forwards and swung Davion's sword into Terrorblade's arm, her mouth opening in a silent, feral yell.

Terrorblade recoiled and snarled, part of the carapace around his arm cracked. He leapt forwards, Marci charged, light beginning to erupt from her. Terrorblade's scythe missed, but he managed to strike her with a vicious backhand and set her sprawling. Jorsen moved to defend her, but Davion tackled Terrorblade and dragged him aside, powering blow after blow into his torso.

Terrorblade brought up his knee, shattering more dragon scales, and shoved Davion back. He saw Bram moving to flank him and whirled his scythes.

'Bram! Cover your eyes!' Caewyn had barely screamed the words before she launched her bolt. A flash of light made Terrorblade recoil and his swing went wide. It cut straight through Bram's sword, but missed his throat.

Bram swore and dived for a glint of metal: Ritterfau's sword. Several spectres lurched towards him. Purist pointed his hammer at them and shouted a quick invocation. The shambling remnants slowed to a jerky shuffle, caught by Purist's spell. Bram rose, cutting through the horde with Ritterfau's blade.

Terrorblade snarled and swung his scythes, bisecting a boulder of ice meant for him. Auroth dived at him, her claws extended. Terrorblade ducked and slashed at her as she passed. Blood rained down and Auroth screamed, losing control and spiralling, crashing and nearly squashing Donté. Blood coursed from her. She lay curled upon the ground, clutching at her stomach.

Terrorblade's bark of laughter was cut short when a streak of light collided with him. Marci's form was just visible through the blazing light as she flashed about him, striking him in a frenzy, hitting him like a rain of comets.

More mirrors shattered at Mirana loosed arrow after arrow. Aiushtha kept turning the spectres against each other, further thinning their ranks. But they were another force Terrorblade could afford to lose.

Terrorblade lashed out, and a lucky backhand struck Marci and sent her flying. Davion closed in again, his fist smashing into Terrorblade's face. Terrorblade roared, and a pulse of force and fear swept from him. Davion staggered back, and Terrorblade began to grow larger,

Terrorblade leapt into the air, forcing his ruinous power forth. His horns elongated, his wings almost filled the width of the chamber. Two bladed appendages erupted from his back and his form doubled in size, eldritch light spilling from fissures between his plates. His face became naught but a gaping maw filled with fell light, cold and ravenous.

Roaring with fury, he flung blasts of potent, hellish energy at his foes, his scythes flew about the chamber, spinning lethally through Terrorblade's shambling victims. Luna was nearly blown off Nova's back, a chunk of stone punched through her armour and into her side. Auroth was struck from the air as she flew at him again, landing in a heap. A blast struck Davion in the chest, hurling him back across the chamber, broken scales flying through the struggle to rise, blood pouring from his battered form, most his scales sundered or shattered, the hide underneath scored by blade and ruinous power.

Terrorblade advanced on him, recalling his scythes to his taloned hands.

Purist's hammer struck him in the side, sending him reeling. Fuming, he spun. A feral grin split his mouth as the scythe cut deep, spraying blood. Purist toppled, crying out as his side opened. Not a mortal mound, but he would be dead soon enough. Donte cried out Purist's name and tried to fight his way back to him, but there were too many remnants for him to overcome. Eserren was fighting for her life, an island under siege by tides of ghosts. They clawed at her armour, but she refused to relent, blasting them back and cutting them down in droves.

Mirana spun Sagan about and rushed in, seeing that Terrorblade was about to reach Davion. Her arrow struck him in the side of the head, sticking into the horn.

Terrorblade dived at her, scythes whirling. He saw Mirana's eyes widen as she realised her mistake. She tried to wrench Sagan aside.

Terrorblade's foot connected with Sagan, cracking bones, and the lunar-tiger collapsed, howling with pain. Mirana was thrown clear, her bow falling from her hand, now at Terrorblade's mercy.

Terrorblade laughed as he heard Davion yell Mirana's name, imagined Marci desperately trying to fight her way to the Princess. He brought the scythe down.

Garrisan did not hesitate. He got their first. He seized Mirana and threw her aside, and thus he finally gave his life in service to the Solar Throne.

Terrorblade's scythe pierced his lorica. Garrisan did not cry out. He merely grunted, glared at Terrorblade, then drove his spatha into the Demon's hand.

Terrorblade swung his arm, throwing Garrisan's body into the wall. He fell limply, at last having met his end in battle, giving his live for his future Empress.

Mirana spat out a hateful curse and loosed one of her few remaining arrows at Terrorblade. It struck him the chest, exploding into blue light and splitting his carapace.

Luna brought Nova round, cutting through several remnants as she fought her way to Mirana. She reached out and seized Mirana's arm, pulling her up on Nova's back. At Marci's command, Sagan limped to Eserren's position. She needed help defending Rylai and the badly injured Auroth.

'The last one!' Luna pointed her blade at a mirror high on the opposite wall.

'Get me over there!' Mirana yelled, fitting her last arrow to the bowstring.

Terrorblade snarled and flew at them. Marci collided with him again, her fists golden blurs as she unleashed a flurry of bone-shattering blows across Terrorblade's form. She spun into a series of kicks next, forcing him back. Any mortal creature would have quickly fell under the furious assault, and even Terrorblade fell back, pain such he had not felt for aeons causing him to howl.

Davion struck him again. Terrorblade lashed out, sending one of his scythes straight at Marci. Davion lunged for it, missed, and his momentum carried him too far.

The scythe plunged into his chest.

Marci's mouth tore open in a silent scream. Terrorblade languidly lashed out, throwing her back with a kick she barely managed to protect herself from. They would not take his victory from him. Davion's feelings for Marci had proved to be his undoing.

Fymryn leapt in front of Davion, her teeth bared and her blades raised. Terrorblade chuckled and lunged, driving his scythe through her heart.

Fymryn disappeared in a gust of shadowy mist.

Terrorblade stared, dumbfounded. His moment of confusion cost him dearly.

Pillars of ice surged up from the ground, binding around his wrists and dragging him lower. As he realised his mistake, the real Fymryn appeared on the other side of the chamber. With a cry of desperate effort, she hurled an arc of darkness at the last mirror, smashing it into a thousand impotent shards.

'Marci!' Mirana yelled. 'NOW!'

Terrorblade turned his head as a flare of brilliant honey-coloured light erupted, flying straight at him. Marci was holding Davion's sword in one hand, Purist's hammer in the other. She smashed the hammer into his face first, collapsing one side of Terrorblade's face, black ichor gushing everywhere. The sword came down next, cutting right though Terrorblade's right arm. She brought it round as Terrorblade screamed, spearing him through the chest, then using the hammer like a pile-driver, forcing it in up the hilt.

Terrorblade kicked out desperately, knocking the hammer from her hand. The hammer flew across the chamber, landing a few feet away from the mirror her allies defended. It did not stop her. She darted in, the light flaring from her burning his carapace even as her fists and feet battered him. Ichor gushed across her form, evaporating before it could touch her skin.

Marci darted aside as Davion charged in and drove his hand into the gaping wound in Terrorblade's chest, seizing the hilt of his sword. His eyes changed, turning yellow, the pupils forming into elliptical slits. Slyrak was in control again, and he was going to take away what Terrorblade had stolen.

Terrorblade tried to wrench himself away. Mirana's last arrow struck him the left eye, blasting it apart as well as part of his face. Marci leapt up, driving another powerful kick into his face.

'GO!' Slyrak bellowed. 'Through the mirror! Now!'

Auroth took on her human form with difficulty, blood pouring from her wounds. Aiushtha scooped her up and bore her and Caewyn back through the last mirror. Eserren and Jorsen continued to cover the retreat.

For the first time in existence, Terrorblade knew what it was like to experience his own power, to have a soul ripped from his body. Slyrak was tearing the souls of the Eldwurms from him, pulling them into his own body, merging them with his own soul. Slyrak's eyes flashed as he pulled the ravaged souls of Uldorak, Aethrak, Indrak and Vahdrak from Terrorblade. They could never be reborn as they had been, but they could now be replaced. All except for Vylgranox. Though his power could be torn from Terrorblade, never again would any like him roam the earth.

Slyrak staggered back, scales falling from his form as he lost control, shrinking, his wings drooping, one detaching entirely, allowing Davion to resume his human form, still clutching his sword, pulling it free of Terrorblade's chest.

Terrorblade bellowed with rage and pain, and finally wrenched his intact arm free of the block of ice.

'There's no time!' Jorsen yelled at Donté, who was trying to push past him and Eserren to reach Purist's body. 'We have to go!'

Marci seized Davion's arm, pulled it across her shoulders, and started to drag him away as Terrorblade stumbled towards them. Davion tried to grab Purist as they went.

Purist coughed and choked, blood pouring from his mouth. His eyes met Donté's, and he uttered a single command: 'Go.'

Donté still refused, and took a ghostly dagger in the side as he tried to fight his way forwards. Fymrynn decided for him, tackling him and shoving him through the mirror, falling through with him. Luna grabbed Mirana's arm and tried to send her through next. Mirana refused to let go of her arm, nor did she want to leave. As Luna tried to force her through she tripped, lost her balance, and they both fell through the mirror. Nova followed them, along with Bram.

Marci continued to drag Davion and Purist, the light fading away, her eyes turning back to pale brown. It was taking all of her stubborn will just to keep going now, her strength waning after unleashing her power.

At a nod from Eserren, Jorsen went next. That left her, Rylai, Sagan, Marci, Davion and Purist. She could have cut down the small handful of remnants easily, but Terrorblade was another matter. They had assaulted him with such strength, yet they had only wounded him.

And one of them had to remain behind to destroy the last mirror, or this would all be for naught.

Rylai was struggling to stand, the effort of casting her spells taking a toll on her. Eserren sighed and pushed her through the mirror. One less potential victim for Terrorblade. She would have liked to have said goodbye to Caewyn, for it looked like she would be the one who remained.

But she would do so willingly if it meant stopping Terrorblade.

Marci wasn't going to allow that though. She whistled sharply at Sagan even as Terrorblade closed in.

Sagan turned and batted Eserren with his paws, sending her through next. He turned and howled, not wanting to leave Marci. Another sharp whistle made him whimper, still unwilling to leave her, but he turned and reluctantly stepped through the mirror.

Davion stumbled and fell heavily. Purist dropped beside him as Marci lost her footing.

Terrorblade roared, redoubling his efforts, gathering speed, his wounds beginning to heal. His scythes spun through the air, returning to his hands.

Marci saw all of this, and knew what she had to do.

Davion had to live. He had to escape, for the sake of the world and all of Creation.

And one of them had to remain behind to shatter the last mirror. Purist was dying, and Davion could not stay.

Mirana was safe now. She would return to the Imperium and take her rightful place, and they would find some way to free the souls of the dead Eldwurms from Davion.

It had to be her.

Marci looked down at Davion, and once again, he saw regret in her soft eyes. Just like he had on the mountains, when she had nearly given her life to save others.

Others before herself. Always.

Always.

Before he could speak, Marci seized him. Using what little strength she had left, she hurled him through the mirror.

She heard him crying out, calling her name, saw him tumbling through the mirror, losing his grip on his sword.

He would live. The world would endure.

Marci plucked a throwing knife from her belt, then turned and faced Terrorblade.

Bellowing with a rage horrendous enough to make gods quail, Terrorblade threw himself at her. No more did he care about his plan failing. Now he wanted only to kill her, to inflict so hideous a death upon her that she would have begged never to have existed.

A strong hand gripped her arm, encased in a bloodied, ruined gauntlet.

Purist forced himself to his feet, his mouth moving as he finished his prayer. In his eyes was urgency and desperation, but not for himself.

Marci moved to tear him away, to throw him through the mirror next. But her strength was all but spent, and though she may have been stronger, she was smaller and lighter.

Purist lifted her off her feet, staggered forwards a few steps, then threw her with all of his might.

Helplessly, Marci tumbled through the air. Her back struck the mirror. It was like passing through a freezing waterfall, and the shock tore away her breath. She fell into a roiling tunnel of cold darkness, pulled inexorably through the void.

Her last sight of Foulfell was through the mirror. It was something she would never forget for as long as she lived.

Purist seized his blessed hammer. Though she could not hear him, she saw his lips mouth as he uttered a last prayer to the Omniscience he had served so loyally. Terrorblade leapt, his scythes and claws descending upon the Omniknight.

The hammer struck first.

Purist caught Marci's eye as the mirror collapsed. Though he faced a terrible death at Terrorblade's hand, his expression was peaceful. He was content.

He smiled as the shards burned away, sealing Foulfell forever.

Marci felt tears on her cheeks. She had always been so willing to sacrifice herself for those she cared for, for those she loved.

Purist had given his life for her.

Now she spun in the darkness, unable to see, lost. Purist might have saved her from Terrorblade, but he had severed the connection between the Hells and the mortal world.

She was trapped in the cold void. Alone. Helpless.

She collided with something hard and familiar, something large.

A weak orange glow bloomed. She saw now that she had collided with Davion.

They were both lost here.

Light began to seep into the darkness, pushing in as if through cracks in glass panes. It was bright, brilliant silver and white.

Marci had no idea what it meant, yet it seemed somehow familiar—and frightening.

Maybe this was how it ended for them.

Marci looked into Davion's eyes. At least if she was going to die here, she would be with him.

Davion smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her, hugging her against his chest. Even now, she felt safe and content in his arms.

They clung to each other as the light broke through, enveloping them both.


Mirana paced back and forth anxiously, her bow discarded upon the ground. The others waited, no more patiently than she did. She was weeping as she paced, weeping for Garrisan, weeping out of worry for Davion and her beloved Marci.

Donté was weeping too, knowing that they had left Purist behind to die. He was not exactly angry with Fymryn, he knew that her intentions had been good, and that she was hardly uncaring. But it had cost him dearly to leave his friend to his fate. Auroth was sat against a broken catapult, letting Aiushtha tend to her wounds.

Rylai had collapsed shortly after emerging from the portal, still alive, but too exhausted to stand. Eserren and Caewyn were keeping an eye on her.

'It's a shame about Garrisan.' Eserren murmured at last. 'I'm sorry for your loss, Mirana. He was a good man. He died with courage and honour.'

'I would rather he had not died at all.' Mirana muttered.

'It was what he wanted.' Donté sighed. 'Purist… he would also have been glad to give his life for this cause, for us. He was a true friend, and the best of his Order.'

'They will be remembered.' Eserren vowed. 'Garrisan, Purist, Ritterfau, all those who gave their lives to stop Terrorblade.'

'Yes.' Auroth nodded. 'They will. I will make sure of that.'

Jorsen and Bram were both silent. Bram was still holding Ritterfau's sword. Jorsen looked oddly haunted. He and Davion had rarely gotten along, and he had once agreed with Kaden when it came to Davion's affliction, and what to do about Marci and her strange power. He might have helped them in the end, but it seemed that he still regretted what he had done before.

Sagan grunted as Luna checked his injuries. He was dejected, paying more attention to the portal than Luna, no doubt hoping that Marci would emerge soon. Nova rested next to him, perhaps trying to comfort him with her presence. Luna had intended to remain behind, to give her life, to perhaps do one good thing before she died.

She did not blame Mirana. She blamed herself. If she had not tripped… but what was done was done. She was here now. She would live, for now. She just hoped that the price was not too steep, she wasn't worth better lives.

Around them, survivors were starting to gather. Dierdd had tried to coax Fymryn away, but she refused to go, not until she knew what had happened to Marci and Davion.

The Fellspeakers could no longer maintain the portal. It would close very soon. If Marci and Davion did not emerge soon, they would be forever lost in the void between worlds. There they would remain for all eternity, in an everlasting darkness in which time had neither meaning nor dominion.

The portal flared.

Mirana stopped pacing and stared at it, as if she could pull her friends through by force of will. The others all gazed upon it, hoping, praying, wishing.

The portal flared once more, and something dropped at Mirana's feet with a clang.

The portal buzzed, made a strange pulsing, sucking noise, then folded in on itself and vanished. Gone. Closed forever.

Mirana slowly knelt and reached out, touching the object with trembling fingers.

It was Davion's sword.

'Where are they?' Fymryn demanded. 'Why aren't they here?'

'They didn't make it through in time.' Auroth murmured sadly. 'They trapped Terrorblade, but they can't return.'

Eserren stood and advanced on the nearest Warlock, towering over him. 'Bring them back. Open another portal.'

'We can't.'

'Do it!' Eserren snapped. 'Open another portal!'

'We can't!' the Warlock retorted. 'Foulfell is forever closed to us.'

Eserren opened her mouth to speak, then slowly closed it again. She knew that he was right. She lowered her head, her soft sigh of resignation lost as Mirana tipped her head back, a wail of anguish echoing into the night.