focus for Asuryan’s power so that even if he died, the god would be able to use it.
Tyrion’s sword glowed as if it had just emerged from the forge. For a moment, Teclis feared the surge of power would prove too much for it, that the metal would melt, that the blade would prove useless, but it was a good blade, of ancient elven make, and it endured.
The thing was done.
Tyrion’s sword blazed like a weapon of legend, like Aenarion’s Sunfang in the tales. He did not know how it had happened and he did not care.
He drove it down between the daemon’s shoulder blades. It burned through N’Kari’s flesh, scorching it. A sickly sweet stench of corruption and narcotic incense filled the air. Tyrion drove it home again with all his might, aiming towards where the heart would be in an elf.
He had no idea whether even this blade could kill a daemon, but he was going to find out.
Searing agony burned between N’Kari’s shoulder blades. He had thought the pain could not get any worse. He was wrong. The mage had done something new and terrible.
Even as the power of his onslaught decreased, he had transferred some of the god’s force to the warrior. N’Kari could kill the mage now but if he did so all the god’s power would flow into the sword. It already held more than enough to destroy this physical form. If he turned to defend himself, he might be able to slay the warrior but only at the cost of giving the mage a chance to escape.
It was a hard choice, to forgo part of his vengeance and wait for the time to recreate his form. The one good thing about the situation was that his victims were elves. If one of them survived it would most likely live through the hundred years it would take N’Kari to return to this world. He could take his vengeance then.
N’Kari decided to kill the mage. It was better to be certain under the circumstances.
The daemon did not turn. Tyrion knew why. It was going to slay his brother. It was determined to kill one of the Blood of Aenarion and that was the option most likely to succeed.
He leapt over the daemon, using its shattered shoulder carapace as a springboard, twisting in the air to bring himself down in front of the daemon, between it and Teclis. With his free hand he pushed his brother away even as he turned to strike.
He felt fast, faster than he ever had. The blade seemed to move of its own will in his hand. He drove the blazing sword forward, striking the daemon with the power of a thunderbolt. He struck it again and again. The daemon reeled back, howling and cursing, great chunks torn from its flesh by the power of the blade, wounds cauterised by the cleansing flame.
The twins drove N’Kari from the chamber of the sacred flame, through the long corridors until they emerged on a ledge in the side of the ziggurat, looking down upon the sea. Tyrion recognised it as the place he had come to after passing the test of the priests of Asuryan. It seemed appropriate. He felt as if he had passed another test.
The daemon seemed to be fading in the sunlight, mist emerging from its charred skin. Perhaps it sought to escape.
Tyrion kept pushing forward, smiting as he went. Teclis sent more bolts of magic crashing into the daemon. N’Kari staggered away, making for the great balcony overlooking the sea.
Tyrion struck again and again. N’Kari turned at bay, claw held high, bellowing defiance. He seemed to have given up on thoughts of escape. He was going to make his last stand and now he would be at his most dangerous.
Tyrion brought his blade down in a thunderous arc. The force of the blow, combined with the daemon’s enormous weight, drove it through the banister. It tumbled headlong towards the sea below, disintegrating like a meteor hitting air, burning up like a falling star and disappearing even before it had hit the waters far, far below.
Tyrion let out a long sigh of relief. Teclis limped into place beside him. He looked exhausted and his hair and clothing were scorched.
‘I think it’s over,’ said Tyrion.
‘It’s not over, you know,’ said Teclis. The two of them stood at the very top of the temple. The clouds had blown away and the sky was a clear, brilliant blue. Below them, the elves had