Prince of Lies - James Lowder [54]
"There's no way around it," the death god muttered into the maelstrom and lifted Godsbane once more.
My love, beware! Mystra-
A bolt of sorcerous might struck Cyric in the back. The blow spun the Lord of the Dead around. Eyes wide with shock, he faced his attacker then glanced down at the smoking hole in his chest. Godsbane slipped from his numb fingers and clattered to the ground. Cyric slumped forward into a lifeless heap.
Mystra took a step toward the Prince of Lies, then stopped, startled motionless by the body before her. Had she so overestimated his power? He had no magical defense, but all the gods had innate powers granted them by their very godhood, not drawn from the weave of magic. The blow shouldn't have – no, couldn't have harmed him so mortally.
The Lady of Mysteries cursed and lunged forward, but she moved too late. A blade cut a trail down her back, from her shoulder to her waist. Pain blossomed at the core of her being as the sword tried to drag her lifeforce from her. Yet the wound was too shallow, the contact to brief for any real harm to be done.
"I'm amazed you attacked me here,Midnight," Cyric said. The Prince of Lies smirked at his lifeless twin then stalked toward the goddess. The light from the magical wall made his features look all the more demonic. "Pandemonium is a place of chaos, after all, and you should know I'm quite at home in chaos…"
Mystra backed to the glowing wall and created a magical buckler. "The Circle decreed this barrier should never be crossed by god or man," she shouted. "And without magic, you are no match for me, Cyric. Give this up before I'm forced to destroy you."
The mock corpse dissolved into a pile of ashes and was borne away on the cyclonic winds in the tunnel. The true Prince of Lies paused to take in his adversary's threatening stance then laughed. "You wouldn't kill me even if you could," he scoffed. "That would upset the Balance."
Cyric allowed the winds of chaos to flow over him, through him. He channeled their might like sorcerous energy and dissolved into a swarm of flies, which split into two smaller clouds. The winds tossed the buzzing insects to either side of Mystra. There, they reformed into twin images of the Lord of the Dead. Two identical rose-hued short swords bit into the goddess's arms, knocking the arcane shield from her grasp.
"But I care nothing for the Balance," the death god hissed.
Time-dusted memories of mortal pain and a sick sensation of fear crept into Mystra's mind. She felt the awful tug of Godsbane on her spirit, the leaching of her power and the tingling of energy as it dripped like blood from her wounds. Mustering the strength to fight back, she let her hands fall against the glowing prison wall. The raw magical essence pulsed against her fingers.
With a defiant shout, she tore two handfuls of energy from the curtain. The globs of power, drawn from the heart of the weave, flared in her grasp. Lithely they slithered up her arms, pushing the blades away and forming armor more adamantine than any forged by the dwarven gods or their minions. Mystra vanished, only to reappear a dozen yards away. Now she, too, held a weapon – a staff of light that burned like the sun itself.
Yet before she could lift the staff against Cyric it transformed into the dripping, razor-edged blade of Godsbane. Then the Prince of Lies was kneeling next to Mystra, gripping the sword by the hilt. Savagely he drew the blade through her hands as if her fingers were a living sheath. Godsbane dug deeply into the goddess's palms, nearly severing all the fingers of her left hand.
"I lured Leira to Pandemonium," the Prince of Lies cackled. "If there was anything left of her avatar it'd still be blowing around in here."
Cyric vanished as Mystra launched a glittering swarm of meteorites toward him. He rode on a swell in the winds until it left him standing high on the wall. "Killing her was even easier than killing