‘Great and loving Slaanesh, I offer up this soul to thee,’ said N’Kari, twisting the currents of magic around him with his mind. The power thrilled through him. He felt an immense sense of satisfaction. His vengeance was almost complete.
All he had to was close his claw and twist and another descendant of accursed Aenarion would be gone. He paused for a moment to enjoy the sweet sensation of victory. After all there was going to be only one more opportunity to enjoy such a delicious sensation today.
He would make his last offering to his patron special he decided, something so depraved and unspeakable that the elves would remember it for the few paltry centuries their race would continue to exist. Yes, he thought, vengeance would be ecstatic indeed.
A wave of fire crashed into him and he screamed in agony. His claw spasmed open. The elf dropped from his grasp.
The power of Asuryan blazed through Teclis. It crackled like lightning, burned like volcanic flame. It struck N’Kari like a tidal wave. The daemon’s anguished howl was deafening. Its carapace blackened and cracked, greenish-purple pus leaked out and was consumed.
N’Kari turned his jewelled gaze on Teclis and beckoned lasciviously, using some sort of spell of compulsion and seduction. Filled as he was with the power of Asuryan it barely touched him.
Twin blazes of power emerged from his hands. The daemon howled and burned but it still lived. It moved towards Teclis, pushing against the blasts like a man pushing upstream against a strong river current. His great claw clicked together menacingly. Clearly, it intended to do with physical force what its magic had been unable to achieve – end Teclis’s life and cut off the source of the god-like destructive power aimed against it.
Teclis concentrated as hard as he could on burning it down, but he knew that he was too slow, and that he did not have time to achieve his goal.
Death came closer, step by step.
One moment, Tyrion knew he was doomed. The daemon was through playing cat and mouse with him. It was going to kill him.
The next moment the daemon was surrounded by a blaze of incandescent energy, screaming orgasmically in agony. It turned away from him towards Teclis. Its flesh was crisping, its carapace cracking like that of a crab baked too long in an oven too hot.
Tyrion took a moment to recover himself and assess the situation. Teclis had somehow conjured enough power to harm the daemon, if not to kill it, if such a thing was even possible. But something had not gone quite according to his twin’s plan. Perhaps he needed more time, which meant Tyrion was not done trying to get the daemon’s attention.
He sprang towards its back, aiming his sword at one of the cracks that had appeared in the carapace. This time the blade plunged home. He felt as if he were carving through flesh. The daemon was vulnerable.
N’Kari felt the sword blade slam into the gap in his armour. It hurt, but not as much as the magical flame did. He concentrated his mighty will on keeping himself moving forwards. The mage was the main threat. He could see that now. He had been duped into thinking only of one of the Blood of Aenarion while the other sought a way to destroy him.
This mage was another of the accursed descendants of the Phoenix King. Only one of them could channel so much of the god’s power unscathed. No other mortals could have endured such a divine contact for so long.
Perhaps this one would not survive it either. Mortals were so fragile. N’Kari could not risk the wait.
There would be no time to slay this one elegantly. Asuryan was using the mage as a vessel for his wrath, outraged as he was by N’Kari’s desecration of his shrine. The god would not care whether the mortal lived or died, only that his vengeance was fulfilled.
Five more steps, he told himself, and he would destroy the wizard and then take special pleasure in destroying the warrior to make up for the loss.
The daemon loomed over Teclis. Its great claw was wide open. Within moments it would lunge forward and snap him in two.
He would not survive that but it did not matter. He saw a way to save Tyrion. Swiftly he wove a knot of power and sent it arcing over the daemon to wrap itself around Tyrion’s blade, turning it temporarily into a new