Oath of Swords

“Ah, Bahzell,” Brandark’s tenor was u

Bahzell gritted his teeth, eyes fixed on the approaching demon. The Rage glittered within him, already reaching out to claim him, yet Brandark’s words echoed through it, and he felt a sudden, terrible suspicion. Had Tomanāk known this would happen? Worse, had he arranged for it to trap Bahzell into his service? Twelve hundred years of distrust shouted that the god had done just that, but only for an instant. Just long enough for him to recognize it . . . and reject it instantly. Tomanāk was the god of justice, and justice could be hard, but it didn’t lie-and neither did its patron.

More than that, there was no need for Tomanāk to entrap him. Not now. For Tomanāk had been right; Bahzell had only thought he knew what evil was. Now he saw its very embodiment flowing up the muddy slope towards him and realized the War God had known him better than he’d known himself. Bahzell Bahnakson could not look upon such horror and vileness, couldn’t picture it stalking someone else , and not fight it. His terror flashed like spits of lightning, and the oncoming demon turned his bowels to water as no mortal foe ever had. He wanted desperately to turn and flee once more, and it wasn’t the Rage that stopped him and stiffened his spine. It was outrage stronger even than his fear. The recognition of evil . . . and the knowledge, the acceptance, that it was what he’d been born and bred to fight.

“All right!” he howled to the wind. “If it’s wanting me you are, then have me you can!”

He raised his sword in both hands, and the steel flashed like a mirror as a bolt of savage blue lightning split the darkness. He felt it strike the five-foot blade, run down it, flare up his arms and stutter in his heart, and his lips drew back in the snarl of the Rage.

“Bahzell, no!” Brandark screamed. “I didn’t mean alone , you idiot!”

The Bloody Sword clutched at his friend’s harness, but too late. Bahzell launched himself down the slope at the armored monstrosity that shrieked his name, and a new war cry ripped from his throat in answer.

“Tomanāk! ” he bellowed, and the demon reared up on four legs, fa

Brandark shouted a despairing curse and floundered down the hill in Bahzell’s wake, then bounced back with a bone-shaking crash as he ran full tilt into an unseen barrier. He staggered back upright, smashing at the invisible wall with his sword and all the fury of his own Rage, but it refused to yield. He couldn’t pass it, couldn’t follow. He could only watch in sick horror as his best friend hurled himself at his titanic foe.

“BAHZELL! ” the demon thundered yet again, lashing out with talonlike claws thicker than Bahzell’s arm, but the Horse Stealer twisted impossibly, still hurtling forward. A slime-dripping claw grated along his mail, ripping away a shower of iron scales, and his sword whistled down in a two-handed blow. It struck like a steel avalanche, and eye-tearing blue light flashed as it sheared through segmented bony armor and flesh. Viscous blood spouted, and the monster shrieked and snatched the wounded limb back as if from the heart of a fire, but its other forelimb slashed in to strike Bahzell from behind.

The impact hurled him from his feet. He hit hard, bouncing through the muddy ash of the ancient forest fire, slithering on his belly, but somehow he retained his sword. He twisted around, slowing his headlong sprawl, and rolled back to his knees, and he was under the demon. Its belly loomed above him, plated in thick black scales, and the monster tossed its head, searching for its prey while it howled.

There was no more fear in Bahzell Bahnakson. The Rage was upon him, and something else came with it. A terrible something, equally bright yet hotter-a focused purpose, a total concentration, that melded with the Rage. It fa

Brandark slid down the invisible wall, and his eyes were huge as Bahzell lunged upright under the demon’s belly. The Horse Stealer glowed in the darkness, glittering with a blinding blue corona. A stab of brilliance flashed along his blade as he thrust straight upward, and the demon shrieked as three feet of flaming steel punched through its scales.

The monster hurled itself backward with a bubbling, head-lashing howl and curled its wounded forelimb against its body, twisting back and forth while thick, stinking blood pulsed from its belly. It stood that way for one endless second, staring at the hradani mite who’d dared set steel to its flesh, and Bahzell snarled into its faceted, insect eyes.

“Come on, then!” he bellowed, and the demon’s head swept down in a murderous arc. Its pincers plowed leaf mold and earth as they ripped back up in a stroke fit to disembowel a titan, and Bahzell stepped straight into them. He brought his blade down to meet them in a howling half-circle of light, and the splintering sound of that impact shook the forest.

Nothing mortal could have withstood the force of the demon’s attack, and Bahzell flew backward. He crashed into the oak it had torn to splinters and bounced from the riven trunk, but his explosive grunt of anguish was lost in the monster’s scream as its pincer split. Not even Bahzell’s stupendous blow could shear it off, but the slick black horn tore and cracked, dangling uselessly, and the Horse Stealer staggered back to his feet.

“Tomanāk! ” he bellowed once more, slashing out in a perfectly timed stroke, and the demon shrieked afresh as glowing steel split one huge eye. The maimed head jerked back and away, and then Bahzell was under it once more, and his sword spat blue fire as it sheared through the monster’s other foreleg.

Brandark Brandarkson crouched on his knees, fighting to believe his own eyes, as the demon crashed half on its side under the fury of Bahzell’s attack. It clawed back up, scattering mud and leaves and the splintered limbs of trees, and Bahzell’s sword crashed down again. Split scales spat shards of horn, blood spouted, and the demon screamed yet again-this time with a high, squealing note of panic-and scrabbled away from its tiny foe.

But Bahzell followed it, wading into its stench and fury, hurling blow after blow into its teeth. It clawed and bit, but it was half-blind, half-crippled by the damage to its limbs. Flailing wings kept it upright, yet it had lost its lizard-quick sureness. It floundered and beat at him, and he staggered under its massive blows, but he kept his footing, and his blade howled in his hands. He was too close for the demon’s fangs to get a clear stroke at him, and he was a thing of steel and wires, not flesh and bone. Tireless and implacable, absorbing the frantic blows he couldn’t avoid and striking again and again and again.

The demon slipped and half fell once more, then lunged up, wings beating madly, but that terrible blue sword smashed into its left wing. It sheared through gristle and muscle and bone, and the monster’s wordless bellow of agony filled the world. It turned on Bahzell with renewed fury, yet now it was the fury of desperation, and Bahzell howled Tomanāk’s name yet again and flung himself bodily upon it.

A boot lashed out, driving its toe into the spouting wound in the demon’s wing. A leg straightened, and Brandark stared in disbelief as Bahzell vaulted up onto the monster’s back. The creature shook itself, frantic to throw him off, but he flung his blade back over his shoulder, and even through the demon’s bellows, Brandark heard his grunt as he brought the sword down.