The Shield of Weeping Ghosts - James P. Davis [75]
Closer now he could see the battling shadows through the snow. Thaena's cries drew him to his left. He found her on hands and knees, struggling to stand. Something caught his foot and he tripped, falling on his right shoulder. The body of yet another sellsword lay beneath him. Pushing himself up, his aching limbs straining to keep moving, he watched as a nighthaunt dived for the ethran.
Duras fought valiantly barely a stride away from her, unable to see the looming threat. The spell poured from Bastun's lips on reflex. It was fast, and he had no time to think. Thaenas head turned. She had pulled off her mask, baring the face he had not seen in almost seventeen years. The woman that looked upon him was the echo of the girl he had known, the despair in her eyes crushing him in its intensity.
Magic coursed through his arm, and flashes of light appeared at his fingertips. Motes of blazing brilliance flew from his hand and into the nighthaunt s path. Its eyes blinked, and it shook its horned head to avoid the light that popped and burst in its face. It turned and wheeled away, swiping at the clinging bits of arcane illumination that followed. Though harmless, the spell had been enough for the moment.
More light exploded from his right, and he found Anilya defending her men. Rising to one knee he watched the dtfrthan making slow progress toward Thaena, and fear brought him to his feet. She had not yet seen him, and the spell he brought to mind would put her deception to rest alongside the nighthaunts' victims. The Breath hung heavy at his side as if more substantial in the presence of one who sought its power.
A thud shook the stones beside him. Flinching and raising his axe, he stared at the body of a sellsword, legs bent at odd angles, face buried in the snow. The hairs on Bastun's neck stood on end, and he whirled in time to catch sight of the nighthaunt before being tackled to the ground. The axe flew from his hand as cold claws found his throat.
Instinctively he held the blank face back, his hands slipping on the nighthaunt s slick, leathery skin. He kicked and squirmed in its grasp, gripping the curling horns and twisting to get away. Beating wings churned snow into his eyes, and the things long tail whipped around his ankles. Blinking, he managed to see Anilya kneeling close to Thaena, waving her hands in the midst of casting.
"No! Thaena!" He yelled, but the nighthaunt held him fast and pushed with unnatural strength on his chest. He fought for air and strained to hold back the unraveling pit of darkness that erupted between the creature's horns. The pale eyes became pools of shadow, bottomless and hungry. Fine threads of curling black mist stretched and brushed through his mask, tracing thin lines of pain on his cheek. He could feel himself being drawn into the swirling vortex.
He turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut. Desperate, he let go with his left hand and fumbled through the snow for his axe. The darkness drew closer, drawing the energy from his body. He choked as the emptiness touched him. His flailing hand found nothing, and he groaned before brushing against hard metal pinned against his leg.
Grabbing hold of the object he tugged and pulled it free from beneath him. Swinging blindly he connected with the nighthaunt's head. Bits of horn broke away and bounced off his mask. The shadows disappeared, and his spirit rushed back from the edge of the nighthaunt's dark hunger. Opening his eyes he met the glazed orbs of the beast and swung again, the wavy blade of the Breath biting through wing and shoulder.
The nighthaunt panicked, releasing his throat and legs and kicking away. Bastun followed, stabbing the ancient blade into the creature before it scrambled out of reach. The beast crawled over the side of the wall and disappeared. Turning back to the battle, he found Thaena gone, but he heard her voice calling out to