Hellfire and Silver II

Hellfire and Silver II

Wurhi cursed beneath her breath.

A trio of swords rattled in her grip as she raced through the hall. The two bronze leaf-blades were the Vestulais, while the long ivory hilted sword, belonged to Kyembe.

Her own sword was shoved through a belt at her waist.

The lock had posed no problem; it opened with a single twist of her knife. On any other night, she would have enjoyed foiling one of the trove guardians prized contraptions. On this night, even the short time it took to open, was unbearable.

Throughout the building the din of violence grew, but seemed to have changed for the better. Blade spat against blade now. At last, some of Paradises other occupants had joined in mounting a resistance.

Now, if only her comrades had survived.

Calm down, Wurhi, she told herself. Kyembe and Cristabeltheyll be fine. Theyre both mad. And basically unkillable. The two mad Vestulai wont drop dead so easy either.

Yes. It would be so. Shed hand everyone their weapons - except for the saints; the small Zabyallan didnt even consider trying to lift that giant blade - and then theyd chop these monsters into dog meat.

Afterward

The thief cringed. There was no way that she could tell the Sengezian about the jewel now. He would abandon her in a heartbeat. Her teeth ground. She would abandon her in a heartbeat if she could. But who could have predicted that stealing it would have brought the abominable hounds of hell down on her?

Damn all the gods! she cursed.

At first light, she would march back to that spoiled brats estate and toss the jewel right over his wall.

Light flashed at the end of the hall.

Hellfire. A good sign. How strange had her life become when seeing hellfire had become a boon?

Let go of my leg! she heard Ippolytes voice. Die! Damn you!

Crack!

She reached the Vestulai just as they stove in the head of the last masked man in the hall. Wurhi glanced to the floor. Bodies littered the passage.

Here! she pushed their blades toward them.

At last! Thesiliea cried, dropping the poker and taking up her sword.

You took long enough! Ippolyte snatched her blade.

I almost died! Wurhi snapped.

As did we! the Vestulai fired back.

The Zabyallan drew her sword. Forget it! Lets just get down there and-

Vrooosh!

Hellfire roared close to the stairs. Close enough to sting her eyes and send all three women reeling back.

We must stop them! she heard Kyembe cry.

Stop what?

She quickly had her answer. Another pair ofdevils crested the stairs and were upon them.

The first lunged at Wurhi: bounding over the heads of the Vestulai. The second - the monstrous hulk of black fur - mounted a savage assault on the two warrior women. Yelping, Wurhi raised both swords - Kyembes and her own - toward the beast attacking her.

Crash!

The monster barrelled into her on all fours, its jaws nearly snapping off her nose.

She screamed.

Schnk.

The beasts weight impaled the blades through its chest as it bore her to the ground. It stiffened, but Wurhi knew well such injuries would not hold it back for long.

Yet, its attack ceased. It stared down at her, seemingly transfixed.

Squelch.

A strange liquid sound came from its flesh. She looked up at its wounds and gasped. Kyembes sword had driven deep - no doubt due to the beasts great bulk and the blades magic - but she could see its flesh closing around the wound.

Her own blade was dealing an altogether different effect.

The flesh surrounding her silver sword was writhingand shrinking. Fur retreated and sinew withered. The area around her blade softened. What formed - spanning about the size of a fist - was human flesh. No fur, nor beasts skin, nor sinewy mass.

Thats Berards signal! Its time to leave! Adelmar cried, rushing from the building.

But what about the others? Haldrych managed to force his mouth to say. In truth, the violence he had heard from within had broken his nerve some time ago. He lifted his robe as he ran.

Well regroup later! We must go, now! Adelmar cried again.

There was no need to tell Haldrych a third time.

Kyembe let out a shout of dismay when he crested the stairs.

Ippolyte and Thesiliea lay in spreading pools of their precious blood while the largest devil burst through a door ahead, disappearing from the hall. Wurhi struggled in its jaws. He heard another crash from the room beyond.

Wurhi! he cried, sprinting after them. He spied his sword gleaming on the stone near a dead man. He snatched it up.

Amitiyahs Tears! St. Cristabel immediately went to the Vestulai. She knelt over them. They yet live! My gods mercy may still heal their wounds! She raised her hands to spread the tears of Amitiyah. I must see to them! Go! Get the villain and rescue Wurhi!

That dog is mine! Kyembe pronounced.

He pursued the black-coated beast with long strides. The occupants of the chamber screamed once more as he rushed by, and a long howl issued from outside. He peered through the window.

The devil snatched Wurhi in its jaws and raced through the snow.

Stop, dog! Stop, damn you! He leapt onto the windowsill and plummeted to the snow below.

Whoosh! Thmp!

Landing in a half crouch on the balls of his feet, he bounced up and sprinted after them. His teeth grit. The snow sucked his every step, robbing him of swiftness and balance.

The black-coated monster shrank in the distance.

Stop! he roared, but knew it was futile.

Ahead, the beast reached the wall of Paradises grounds and vaulted to its top in a single bound. It gave him a quick glance, its eyes flashing.

Then, disappeared over the wall.

No! he cried. No! No! Wurhi!

He redoubled his speed, calling on every reserve he had ever used in the wilderness. A jump carried him halfway up the wall and he scaled the rest, leaping into the street below. He peered about. The beast was nowhere in sight.

Cursing, his eyes fell to the snow.

There! Tracks that were a cross of wolfs and mans.

He tore after them. There is no escape for you, beast! he roared. Drop her and I will consider letting you die quickly!

His roar echoed through a night that was slowly turning to dawn. None answered. Growling, he continued to follow the tracks. Prints of hoof, boot, and wrapped feet covered the road, but the monsters tread was unique: impossible to miss.

Schnch. Schnch.

His bare feet stung in the snow, but he bore the pain. It would only be a matter of time until he found them. The wind whispered through the sleeping city.

An odd change came over the tracks. What? he cried.

They shrank. The mark of the claw disappeared. They sank shallow in the snow.

Nonono

Now he followed the prints of bare human feet. Shortly after, the bare footprints vanished, replaced by cloth covered ones, like others on the road. Anger burned in Kyembes breast, but anger could not make his quarry easier to follow. As the trail weaved through the roads more traveled, they became harder to discern.

He came abruptly to a massive crossroad.

He stopped. No. No!

The tracks blended with countless others that had churned the snow throughout the day.

All looked similar. The tall Sengezian turned in place, peering desperately down each road.

Any of them could have been the one his quarry had taken.

Shaking with anger, The Spirit-Killer gripped the hilt of his sword. Damn you!

He charged down the eastern road, trusting his path to luck.

Yet, such good fortune did not walk with him this dawn. As if mocking him, fresh snowflakes began swirling from the sky, gently hiding what he sought. His wanderings took him deeper and deeper into the maze of Laexondael. Yet, no matter how hard he searched, he could find no sign of wolf or rat.

Wurhi of Zabyalla was gone.