“Perhaps not.” The blades flashed with sudden brightness as Gaelen spun into the Cha Baruk form called the Song of Death. “But the five-fold threads I’ve woven around it certainly do.” Steel whistled through the air and sliced through the demon’s midsection. The creature cried out, and his insubstantial form wavered.
Gaelen took advantage of Esan’s shock and distraction to slam a five-fold weave into theselkahrcrystal. The dark stone exploded in a shower of dust, and the demon portal collapsed. There! At least no other old friends or enemies would come to join the fight.
A hissing screech and a rush of cold air were the only warning he received as the demon swooped towards him. Gaelen spun round and fell back upon one knee, sword and five-fold shields raised to meet thedahl’reisendemon’s attack. Sparks exploded around them as magic and demon swords clashed.
Esan was a Fey from the powerful vel Morian line, and for nearly fifteen hundred years he’d also been a close friend and sparring partner. He’d been one of the few Fey capable of laying the sharp edge of his blade on Gaelen’s skin. Alive, that posed little problem. A little torn flesh and a bit of blood never robbed Gaelen of victory in the end. But now, the sharp edge of Esan’s demon blades held the promise of death more swift and sure than even red Fey’cha. Gaelen couldn’t afford the luxury of a single mistake.
He met Esan’s split-second lunge with a lightning-fast parry and attack. With his steel serving as an anchor for his five-fold weaves, Gaelen didn’t have to divide his concentration or expend vast amounts of energy to maintain his weaves. He could instead concentrate on the swordplay at hand, and at the moment, that was a very good thing.
Esan had never accepted defeat easily. Even as a demon, that much had not changed. Each clash of blades shivered down Gaelen’s arms and rattled his back teeth. Esan was not holding back his blows. This was no friendly sparring match; it was a fight to the death.
Gaelen had to work hard simply to survive each passing chime. He ducked and danced, leaping lightly from altar to floor to pew, spinning from one fluid form of Cha Baruk to another. His swords flashed in ever-moving arcs of beauty and death. Esan countered every blow.
“We must end this, my friend.” Each moment that passed put Ellysetta’s life in greater danger. “I can free you from this dark service, Esan.” Negotiating with a demon was futile, Gaelen knew. Yet some stubborn, unrelenting remnant of Fey loyalty made him try. This corrupt soul that now attacked him had once been a beloved friend and blade brother with a soul as bright as it now was dark. “Come, my brother; if any hint of Fey still remains in your soul, cease this battle and let me grant you peace.”
The demon snarled and advanced, blades flashing.
Gaelen countered with the whirling strokes of the Ring of Fire, but Esan’s attack was too fierce, too punishing. It drove him back, and he stumbled over an uneven tile in the floor. For a split second, Gaelen’s perfect form faltered. He held his blades too far apart—barely a handspan too much, but that was all the opening the demon needed.
The shadow blade sliced down with lethal accuracy.
And clashed in a shower of sparks against a shining, magic-girdedseyanisword.
“Your bladework’s good, but your footwork could use a little practice.” Kieran smirked.
“Cheeky git.” Gaelen drove his five-fold-powered swords deep into thedahl’reisendemon’s heart. The demon wailed and writhed as beams of magic pierced its darkness, sundering the grip of evil that held Esan’s soul in thrall. Gaelen poured power into his weaves. The shadowy figure shimmered, its dark, smoky form growing ever more translucent, like mist burning off in the Great Sun’s light.
“Go with peace, my brother. May the gods illuminate a path to guide you back into the Light.” When the last shadowy remnant of the demon faded, Gaelen leaned against a wall, resting his head on the back of his hands, and sucked in several deep, restorative breaths.
“No time for napping, Uncle!” Kieran chided. “We’ve got work to do!”
Gaelen forced himself back to his feet and sprinted after Kieran to join the others, who were once again weaving a five-fold assault on the Solarus door. “When this is done, puppy, and the Feyreisa is safe behind the Mists, I’m going to teach you respect for your elders.” He gave his sister’s son a smile dark with promise.
Kieran grinned. “You can try.”
“I never just try.” Tossing back the long strands of his hair, Gaelen frowned at the quintet’s five-fold weave. “That’s not going to work, vel Jelani. Five-fold isn’t enough.” His eyes met and held the Fey general’s. “Six-fold is her only chance. Will you stay your blades?”
Bel’s mouth went grim. “Weaving Azrahn is a banishing offense.”
“Save her first. Banish me later. Just don’t stab red in my belly until after we break through. Agreed?”
Bel searched the formerdahl’reisen’seyes for any hint of treachery but found only honest, stoic intent. “Agreed,” he said.
The next instant, an icy chill emanated from Gaelen, and Bel’s back teeth ached from the sudden cold and sickly sweet smell as a sixth rope of power formed.
Azrahn.
Bel couldn’t stop the instinctive clutch of horror that made him recoil a step from Gaelen. The formerdahl’reisen’sice-blue eyes had turned pure black, sparkling with red lights like deep, smoldering firepits. Those nightmare eyes met his gaze for an instant, then turned to concentrate on the spiraling weave of forbidden magic gathering in Gaelen’s hands.
Bel had never been this close to a Fey weaving Azrahn.
Fey law demanded Gaelen’s banishment or his death.
Instead, Bel opened his weave and let thedahl’reisenadd the ominously pulsing rope of dark power into the weave.
“Hold steady, Fey. Tighten the weave.” Shining threads condensed, magic concentrating into lines of blazing light. “Aim for the hinges. Now!”
The six-fold weave, a thick line of pure power, shot out. The door frame screeched and sparks flew as weave met enchanted metal. For several seconds, the first hinge resisted the Fey assault, spitting defiant sparks and radiating scattered destructive slivers of the weave in all directions. But strong as the magic-resistant construction of the Solarus door was, the concentrated assault of their weave, strengthened even further by that deadly sixth thread, was stronger. Slowly—far too slowly for Bel’s liking—the metal of the first hinge began to bubble, and then to melt.
