Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,231

model prisoner, and she kept up her reputation now. She accepted the hit as Praehotec passed, the demon’s wing knocking her flat to the bed and blasting her breath away. Her instincts yelled for her to go to Luthien, to die beside him, for she knew that he could not defeat this monstrous beast. But her wits told her to inflict as much pain on wretched Paragor as she could, and so as she went flying downward, she tensed her muscles and threw herself into the fall, hitting the cushioned bed with enough force to bounce right back to a sitting position. The second cyclopian, half on the bed and half off, dazed by the weight of Praehotec’s wing, was more concerned with its companion, who was scrambling under the bed, than with Katerin.

The brute felt her arms come across its broad shoulders, the chain binding her wrists scraping its face as her wrists came down in front of its burly neck. In a split second, the cyclopian felt Katerin’s feet against its upper back, and she was pushing and tugging with all of her strength, her chained wrists tight across the one-eye’s throat.

The dominant thought in Paragor’s mind as he easily vanished from in front of Luthien’s mighty swing was that he had erred in keeping Praehotec so long. Before he ever came back to his corporeal form, the wizard knew that the demon would be going after Luthien, meaning to kill the young man and tear him apart, to punish the young Bedwyr, this legendary Crimson Shadow, for its defeat on the high tower of the Ministry.

Thowattle’s warnings of turning the young man into a martyr echoed in Paragor’s mind, and so his first attack, a beam of searing, crackling, white energy, was aimed not at Luthien, nor any of his companions, but at Praehotec.

The demon was close enough to Luthien by then that the wizard’s attack appeared to be an errant casting. The white bolt slammed Praehotec’s leathery wing, doing no real damage to the beast, but stopping its charge, slamming the monster against the far wall.

Luthien, fighting hard to curb his terror, lunged forward, thrusting Blind-Striker with all his strength. The mighty sword had been forged by the dwarves of the Iron Cross in ages past, its blade of beaten metal folded a thousand times. Now, after centuries of use, it was better than when it was forged, for as the blade wore down, each layer was harder than the previous. It sank deep into demon flesh. Luthien ignored the hot, greenish gore that erupted from Praehotec’s torn torso and pushed on, throwing all his weight behind the attack. Blind-Striker went in right up to its jewelled and golden hilt—the sculpted dragon rampant. The sharpened points of the sculpture’s upraised wings, the formidable cross-piece of the weapon, gouged small holes in the demon’s flesh.

Luthien, snarling and screaming, looked up into the demon’s fiery eyes, thinking he had won, thinking that no beast, not even a monster of the Abyss, could withstand such a strike.

Praehotec seemed in agony, green gore oozing from the wound, but gradually a wicked grin widened across the monster’s serpentine face. A trembling, clawed hand reached out to Luthien, who backed off to arm’s length only, not daring to withdraw the blade. A long, low growl came from the pained demon’s maw; Praehotec’s trembling, weakened hand caught Luthien by the front of his tunic and pushed him, the twelve-foot giant extending its long arm, driving Luthien back step by step, and since the young Bedwyr didn’t dare let go of Blind-Striker, the sword followed, sliding from the wound.

When Praehotec’s arm was fully extended, Blind-Striker was only a few inches deep in the monster’s chest. Luthien yanked it all the way out and snapped it straight up, nicking the bottom of Praehotec’s jaw. Before he could do any more harm, though, the demon clenched its hand tighter and yanked its arm out to the side, hurling Luthien back by the door.

The young Bedwyr came up in a roll to see Paragor casting straight at him. Through the open door Luthien dove, pulling it closed behind him.

The door slammed all the faster when Paragor’s blast of lightning hit it, splitting the wood right down the middle so that splinters followed Luthien out into the hall. Luthien was up again in an instant, meaning to charge right back in, but he had to dive aside as the door exploded and Praehotec burst through.

Luthien skittered behind the