Realms of Magic - Brian Thomsen King [104]
The warrior, his rekindled reflexes already in action, sprang back. Without conscious thought, he brought the enchanted sword Talon into play, interposing it between himself and whoever might wield the ancient battle-axe. "Shandt," he cried, "is that you?"
There was no answer, but in a second Orlando knew none would be forthcoming. With a swift and sudden motion, the axe Kesmarex lifted into the air. Lelanda's blood dripped from the blade, but no living hand wielded the weapon.
At last, Orlando understood. He had always known Shandt's blade was enchanted, but had never realized the full extent of its power. Now, years after the death of its owner, the weapon had tracked down the people it blamed for Shandt's death.
Describing a great arc in the air, Kesmarex swept toward the warrior. He fell back, uncertain how to attack a weapon that had no wielder. He jabbed feebly with Talon, but found that the axe was every bit as maneuver-able as it had been in Shandt's hand.
"You don't understand," Orlando cried. "We had no choice!" The battle-axe chopped at his legs, causing him to leap backward. When his feet touched the ground, he felt the soft earth shift and give way. He had landed squarely on Jolind's grave. Unable to retain his balance, Orlando toppled over and thudded hard on his back. The blade of the axe flashed through the air inches above his nose. Had he still been standing, it would certainly have severed his leg at the knee.
"Shandt was buying us time to escape!" he yelled. The axe, unheeding, swept upward as if it were being held aloft by its departed master. For a brief second, it hung there. Then, like the blade of a headsman at the block, Kesmarex plunged downward. Orlando tried to roll aside, but the enchanted blade sensed his intention and twisted to follow him. With a metallic crash, it smashed into the warrior's bronze breastplate, tearing through the amber metal and biting into the soft flesh beneath.
Pain burned through Orlando's body as clouds of red rolled across his vision. Talon fell from a nerveless hand, making no sound as it landed atop Jolind's newly dug grave. As the vengeful weapon drew back for its fatal strike, Orlando's hands clutched at the searing wound. His fingers touched jagged metal, exposed flesh, and warm, flowing blood.
And something else. Something smooth and warm and comforting: the amulet of Clanggedin Silverbeard. His fingers closed upon the medallion, and he snatched it clear of his neck. The silver chain upon which it hung stretched and snapped. As the great weapon began to sweep downward, Orlando held the holy symbol high.
"Shandt was my friend!" he cried. "I would have died to save him!"
Moonlight, sifting down from the cloudless sky, struck the glass dome and streamed down into the garden. It fell upon the fallen body of Lelanda, the druid's fresh grave, and the silver axe that sought to avenge its owner's death. Two pinpoints glinted brightly in the shaft of moonlight, one the blade edge and the other the pendant.
VI Orlando stepped back from the wall. He had returned Talon to its place and cocked his head left and right to make sure it was positioned properly. He reached out and lifted the hilt an imperceptible fraction of an inch.
"Don't worry," said Lelanda from the couch on which she lay. "You've got it right."
Orlando nodded and turned back to the table behind him. With his right hand, he reached tentatively for the great battle-axe Kesmarex, but something stopped his fingers just short of its haft. His other hand slipped to his neck and touched the silver pendant that hung from its recently repaired chain.
His thoughts drifted back to the battle in Jolind's garden. He remembered the great blade falling toward his head, the hollow sound of his voice as it filled the silent garden, and the flash of light that came when the holy symbol