filled his nostrils, so strong that he thought he might retch up his breakfast. He could feel the sludge crawling through the Magelord’s arteries, could hear the rattling of the tyrant’s heart as it fought to pump fouled blood through his body.
Then he sensed it. A third presence besides himself and the subconscious mind of Salazar. It was unnatural and cold and full of malign intent. He reached for it and it recoiled. It felt dead. He clenched his teeth together and probed deeper, grabbed hold of the presence and began to thought-mine…
He stood upon grey wastes of ash and bone and watched the robed figures scurrying to meet him. They dared challenge him here, in his domain? Humanity’s hubris knew no bounds!
With a thought he raised a thousand thousand corpses from the dead wastes, sent them lurching towards the invaders in a wall of clawing limbs and snapping teeth a mile deep. A handful of wizards were torn apart, but then magic flared from the intruders, arcing up and back down to erupt in a wave of explosions that obliterated his army. Fragments of bone exploded into the air, a cloud of white dust so thick it momentarily blotted out the monochrome sky.
He snarled, skull visage twisting in anger. Then he exhaled mightily, and from his mouth issued a billowing darkness that swept towards the invaders. Three of them were caught up in it before they had time to raise their magical barriers, dancing in agony as the flesh was stripped from their bones. Their naked skeletons eventually toppled to the ground, breaking apart in the places where even their sinews had been consumed.
The rest of the insects had evaded the cloud, surrounding themselves in globes of energy or miniature whirlwinds that dissipated the pestilence before it could reach them. One of the wizards stepped forwards, an old man wrapped in scarlet cloth. The interloper raised both hands and a gigantic web of glowing energy shot from his outstretched palms.
He roared as the web landed on him and burned through his rotting flesh. He tried desperately to pull it off, but something massive hit him from the side and sent him crashing to his knees. It was a mammoth, as tall at the shoulder as he was at the thigh. It shifted shape and became a man, naked from the waist up and rippling with muscle. The wizard shifted again, and suddenly a huge eagle was before him, clawing at his eyes.
Missiles of the brightest energy struck him from all sides. The barrage of magic poured endlessly from his assailants as he struggled to free himself. He swatted at the eagle, and then saw movement below him. He raised one foot and crushed a man beneath it, felt bones crunch and bodily fluids splatter around his ankle. Even so, the pain was overwhelming…
Eremul gasped. He was witnessing the final moments of a god. But how? He felt the Magelord’s consciousness beginning to stir. He reached out to it and was immediately assailed by a hundred thoughts and memories. One thread was brighter than the others, so he latched onto it…
The Reaver was on his knees. They had lost Raurin, and Zayab, and countless others, but they were winning. The god was unable to shake off the snare he had thrown. Mithradates clawed at the Reaver’s eyes, tearing a gaping hole in the left orb with his talons. Foul pus welled out and the god screamed in pain. He saw Balamar crushed by one of those massive hoofed feet, leaving a broken pile of gore beneath.
He glanced to his right. Marius watched the carnage with his hands clasped around his corpulent waist, his eyes fixed on the face of the ailing god.
‘Marius,’ he snarled. ‘We almost have him! What are you doing?’
The other wizard started as if surprised. He wiped at the sweat on his brow, smoothed his robe down over his paunch. ‘Catching my breath,’ he replied. ‘Let’s finish this.’
Snaking tendrils of blue light erupted from the big man’s palms and enveloped the Reaver, twining around the golden web that had entrapped him. The reinforced weave began to constrict, tugging tighter around its victim. Skin split and bones cracked as the god was compressed. With a final scream, the Reaver exploded in a torrential shower of black blood and whirling energy.
As the carnage settled, he noticed that Marius had a small smile on his face.
Eremul’s head swam. He had just beheld the death of a god. And not just