The shock wave blasted Alric into the air. He landed on his back in the dirt, but was on his feet in an instant, waving his hands in a desperate attempt to see what had happened. The crater was thick with blown-out dirt. He could hear Slorn’s wagon scrambling behind him, probably trying to right itself after the cannon’s kick, but he couldn’t see anything but yellow, billowing dust.
He’d taken two blind steps when the demon’s claws lashed out of the dust cloud and hit him hard in the shoulder. Alric went down with a shout, raising his sword instinctively to block the next blow. But the claws went right over him, thrashing wildly through the air.
Alric rolled clear, gripping his bleeding shoulder as the dust began to settle. The first thing he noticed was that several of his men were down, knocked over by the blast wave or taken out by the demon, he didn’t know. The cratered arena they’d been fighting in was now twice as deep, and he could see the outline of the demon at its center, still madly lashing out. Alric wiped the dust from his eyes with a bloody hand. How could it still be standing? Had the shot missed? But as his vision cleared, he saw the truth. The demon’s head was gone, blasted clean off, but the body was still fighting. It struck blindly, the claws stabbing out. As he watched, one of the random blows landed in the back of one of his downed men.
Alric shouted, but it was too late. The man screamed as the claw skewered him, and the demon stopped thrashing to lunge at its kill, dragging the man toward its ruined body as its claws began to eat his flesh right then and there, drinking in his power to heal its wounds.
“Shoot it again!” Alric shouted, scrambling up the edge of the crater. “Damn it, Slorn, shoot it again! Now!”
Miranda jumped down from the scrambling wagon, landing on her waiting ghosthound. The water followed her, sliding over her shoulders like a mantle as the hound cleared the distance to Alric in one jump.
“There aren’t any more shots,” she said as Gin slid to a stop. “We only had two.”
Alric gritted his teeth. “Then we do this the hard way.” Miranda jumped down. “What do you mean the har—Wait!”
But Alric was already gone. He charged through the dust cloud, picking up speed as he ran down the crater toward the demon, who was still eating its victim.
He launched himself off the slope, drawing his sword in a golden flash. Hungry and blind, the demon didn’t raise a claw to defend itself. Alric’s blow sliced into its back, his golden blade peeling through the demon’s shell and into its spine. The creature screamed, and the demon panic hammered Alric’s mind. But he was further than fear could reach. He pressed the blow, cutting down through the demon’s torso. It dropped the soldier and reached backward, clawing wildly at Alric, but it was too late. With a shout of triumph, Alric turned his sword and sliced up through the tissue that connected the seed to its host.
The demon howled. Claws ripped into Alric’s back and threw him down. He landed under the demon’s clawed feet. There was no time to dodge; the thrashing demon’s claws landed right on top of him. He closed his eyes, bracing for the explosion of pain as the demon’s foot ripped into his chest, but he felt nothing. He opened them again, staring up in amazement. The demon’s foot was on his chest, but there was no weight to it. The monster was still thrashing, but with every movement, bits of it were breaking away. The demon was crumbling like ash, breaking apart and floating away. Already, the fear was receding as the demon crumpled in on itself. By the time Alric managed to sit up, it was nothing more than a pile of black dust around a long, black seed.
Alric took a deep, pained breath. It was over. The demon was dead. He looked around, doing a quick count of his men. Two dead for certain, three more lying motionless, but the rest were pushing themselves up. Not bad considering what they’d faced without the Lord of Storms’ backup. But there was one loss he felt more than the others.
Alric looked down at the sword in his hands. The long, slender blade still glowed faintly with its own golden light, but the cutting edge was ravaged. Enormous chunks were missing, leaving great gaps all the way to the core of the blade.
“Dunelle,” he whispered. “My Last Sunlight. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You did what had to be done.” His sword’s ringing voice was warped and muffled with pain, but the pride in the words stood bold and clear. “It has been an honor to serve you, sir.”
The golden light grew dimmer as it spoke, and Alric felt tears in his eyes for the first time in a century. “The honor has been mine,” he whispered, laying the destroyed blade across his knees.