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Stone and Wolf (Part 10)

Lyke's eyes flashed and his heart beat itself into a knot in his chest. The final chamber was just as large as the first, but instead of an upper level, this chamber had shelves. Stone shelves ten to twenty feet high lined the walls. They were filled with bits of stone armor, gems, measuring scales, and full, empty suits ready for use. At the other end of a long, pale green carpet was a dais. The ancient demon stood beside an altar built in the center of it. Above the altar hung a great stone pillar that had thousands of runes carved in a spiral around it. Laid out on the altar, under the pillar, was the body of Ilisha. One of her dainty paws lolled unceremoniously over the side, her mouth slightly open.

The demon spun to face Lyke with a flick of his flowing robes. Its long black fur on the top of its head waved as it did so. Its pale skin shone in the light of the full moon that streamed in from a high air vent, and the flickering orange light of magic fire around the room like torches. A giddy smile passed over its face causing its thin eyebrows to rise unnaturally high.

"Ah hah! You emerge victorious from your battle with my Minotaur!" He clapped his gloved hands together in a slow, mocking applause. "A great feat I suppose for one so untrained." He stopped clapping and threw a hand out to one side. A stone blade covered in runes materialized there. The runes shone a light green. Lyke griped his ancient sword hard and took a few stiff steps forward.

"I am not beaten yet." His eyes could scarcely focus on his enemy, and kept returning to Ilisha. From this distance, he couldn't tell if she still lived. "Tell me! Does she live!?" A burst of laughter issued from the ancient. The sound rose like the resonance of his violin and filled his mind with pain. His ears folded low.

"How noble of you, beast! You must first answer me this: How do you feel?" Lyke stood still, confused. What sorcery...?

"I'll not play along with any of your spells, ancient. I will die fighting you. I will not be subdued by sorcerer's trickery." The smile faded ever so slightly to a more amused expression.

"Do you feel drained? Like your very soul was being syphoned away each time you struck the Minotaur?" Lyke gasped.

"What!" He did feel on the very brink of death, and each twitch on a muscle was a conscious effort, but his soul? He barred his teeth and strode closer. "Your words are nothing!" The laughter came again and it froze Lyke in his tracks.

"My word is everything! You are in my domain, animal! As you landed each blow on your previous opponent, a part of your life energy was transferred directly to me! Just like your lovely mates was! I will enjoy watching the both of you being encased in stone!" The runes on his blade flashed brighter and he adopted a fighting stance; a strange one that threw Lyke off guard. It seemed he was wide open, but as he studied him, he noticed that even with the opening, he had no idea how to approach a target with that stance without being hit.

"What exactly do you want? What are you?" The smile returned.

"And the questions come. Do you know how many questions your mate asked me? She's an intelligent one. The best example I've seen of your race yet. Fear not, she lives. It would be a much greater effort on my part to create thralls of stone if the bodies were dead... Ah... but how things will change..."

"How so?" Lyke wanted to keep him talking as long as possible, if only to learn as much as he could before he died.

"With the soul of your mate, I was close to fulfilling the amount of energy required for my latest project: Infusing a much more capable soul in pure stone to create wondrous items and powerful monsters to serve me. With this power, I can set things back to the way they once where! Your kind will be slaves to the new and the old order under my reign, and your souls will feed my magical dominance! I might even be able to awaken some of the other ancients from their slumber of death to serve me also. And if any yet survive elsewhere, they will surely hear of my conquest and emerge to join me." Lyke edged a little closer, circling up to the right side of the dais to get a better view of Ilisha.

"You need sacrifices then? You seemed particularly interested in Ilisha. Why her? Why me?" The rune sword was pointed at him.

"Both your souls are strong, even for wolves. Yours... A little less so but... Well I'm not sure." A puzzled expression came over his face and his free hand stretched forward as if feeling Lyke's body from a distance. Lyke recoiled a bit as he felt something touch him inside. "Yes... I'm not sure what it is about yours. I have a scholarly interest in it. It is both weaker and stronger than your mates is, in different regards. I will find out what those are in detail once you are subdued and consumed in my experiments."

Lyke could now see Ilisha more clearly. She was as beautiful as ever, and to Lyke's relief, her coat of fur was intact. He could just make out a weak rise and fall of her chest.

"Your dreams will never come true, ancient." Lyke said without looking away from her. "You said yourself I had a strong soul... That is why you can never defeat me." His gaze shifted to the ancient. The smile was gone, replaced with an expressionless stare. His unnaturally large, black eyes were unblinking. There was several seconds of absolute silence. When the ancient's pale lips finally moved, it was more of a curt mutter than his previous shouts.

"You know... I made this Rune-Blade especially for killing wolves... You could call it Wolf-Bane, if you like... I see you took the liberty of stealing one of the old swords from the guard tower... A good blade, but there is no magic in it..." His stance widened and the sword was brought back to its original position. "Come. I'd like to test this blade, and to see your skills in person. I've observed you long enough to know how to defeat you." Lyke looked into the ancient's eyes and determined it was unlikely he was bluffing. He griped the hilt of the sword with acing paws and brought it up to a defensive position, taking a cautious step forward. Like a perfect mirror, the ancient followed his step in his black leather boots. Lyke paused momentarily, then shifted toward the altar. His opponent shifted quicker, taking a long stride to cut him off.

"Away from the altar! You will be with your mate for centuries to come, fear not." Lyke stepped farther around him, keeping his distance. There was no way to get close to the altar without engaging him. "Have you ever played chess, animal?"

"What?" In one rush of momentum, the ancient took several quick steps in and cut his sword out of the way. A flash of pain went searing through his side and he jumped back.

"You can't go too long before taking blood." As Lyke jumped back, he noticed only the flat of the blade had touched him, but still a bloody swath had been drawn in his fur. The runes of his opponent's blade were glowing darker near the tip where it had struck. Lyke's eyes went wide when he realized the blade merely had to touch him to draw blood. The smile returned to his opponent's face. "I made it well. I didn't have a chance to use it on your mate. She went down without a fight... You've got some spirit in you... That's what I love about your soul." He ran the tip of his tongue over his lips with a chuckle. Lyke knew if he had his strength back, he could take him with little effort. He would have to push past all his injuries and weakness to operate at peak efficiency for just a little longer. This ancient's technique was flashy, obscure, and quick, but sloppy, and undisciplined.

"You have made a grave miscalculation." Lyke said through gritted teeth. Energy flowed through his body. It was false energy that would result in his further injury, but it was all he had. His mind ignored his screaming muscles and joints and forced his legs to spring. His arms flashed forward to cleave at the ancient's guard. With a grunt of effort, his opponent's scrawny arms gave under the strain of the attack. He fled back a step and regained his composure.

"You have no strength left. You can't win!" The ancient cried. Lyke strode forward, his confidence growing. He pressed the attack, cutting at every angle to probe him for weaknesses in reaction time. All the blows were blocked, but his form was appalling. Initiate guardsmen back in his home village in the southlands could swing a piece of metal around better than this. Upward slashes seemed to be his weakness, so Lyke rushed inward and cut twice, arching around to deliver two upward moving strikes. The first was merely dodged, the second struck him in the chest, cutting his robes and digging into the flesh beyond by only a little finger width or so. The ancient gave a yelp and jumped back, nursing his wound. "Curses! You monster! You base, ruthless creature! I am your superior in every way but savagery! I thought I had weakened you enough..." He withdrew closer to the altar and threw his hands up to the ceiling, the sword disappearing in the process. "I thought I could toy with you, and put you down like the overgrown dog you are, but I see I must destroy you using means more familiar to me." Pale green light erupted from his hands and caused all of the thousands of runes on the pillar to shine. The room filled with their light, blocking out even the light of the moon. Lyke rushed forward to attack. One of the ancient's hands shot out in his direction. The sword in Lyke's hands shattered into hundreds of pieces and scattered over the floor. He retrieved his last spear, and it shattered. He reached for his knife, and it shattered before he even touched it. The ancient was screaming now. "No more distractions! I will end you! Catiria Grilliri Belovis! Vyn-Efteh En Shakre, Enveneris!" He began to chant out loud. Various series of runes lit up as he spoke.

Lyke took another step forward, but his knee gave out from under him with a twist of pain. He fell to his paws and knees. He was beaten...

"Nah Eirvi, Din Sare, Orchillium..." The ancient paused and looked back. "Finally down are you?" Lyke almost nodded in agreement. His jaw wobbled and a single tear rolled off his face. He reached back and retrieved his violin. The hand shot forth once more, but the violin did not shatter. "You have one last song to play, beast? You are a man after my own heart. Let's hear it. I will grant you this privilege while I charge my spell... On Arden, Sestimari, No Tillaria." Lyke put the bow on the strings and played the first note of his and Ilisha's song. Another tear fell and hit the ground in beat with the next note. I need you now, Ilisha... I need you forever... I suppose I'll get one of those soon... But please hear this before the end... He stifled a small sob and almost missed the next note, his head bowed low. You got caught Ilisha... But I bet you would know how to get out of here... Oh...Moon... I'm such a fool... I tried. I really did. I've never fought so hard, and never cared so much about one thing before in my life. All I wanted was for you to come back home... In case something like this might happen... Oh, listen to me! It doesn't matter now. I just need you, Ilisha. Hear this song, and know I did everything for you.

Lyke stopped playing, drawing the song to a close with a wavering string. His eyes opened (He didn't realize he had closed them) and he set his gaze on Ilisha's face. He was paralyzed with awe when he saw one of her eyes wide open, staring back at him. The ancient called out.

"Finished? Good! So am I!" His hands made eccentric patterns in the air and the whole column shone twice as bright, illuminating the farthest corners of the room. "Say goodbye to your precious mate you ani-" He was cut short when he looked back at where Lyke was staring. Ilisha sprung up and rammed her paw on the bottom of the column. The light flickered rapidly, distorting Lyke's vision. Both she and the ancient screamed in pain. Through the blinding, flashing light, he heard Ilisha's voice clear over the wails of agony.

"Kill him! I've sealed his power! Kill him!" The silhouette of both Ilisha and the ancient was cast in front of the pillar of light; both where doubled over, one hand clutching their chests, the other stretched for the pillar. Lyke picked himself up, dropping his violin.

"Ilisha! You can't hold it! You'll die!" He stumbled forward to the ancient, stopping a few feet from him.

"Do it now! I can't hold it any mo-" Lyke watched in horror as the image of Ilisha vomited blood over the altar. The liquid spilled over the sides and spattered on the floor.

"No!" Lyke closed the distance between himself and the ancient, and he took the little man by his head.

"What are you doing!" The ancient wailed. "No! No, no, no, no!" He twisted and turned in Lyke's grasp. It reminded him of a crying pup. Lunging out, Lyke wrapped his muzzle around his neck. Then with a rending bite, he felt the sweet release of open arteries in his mouth and on his face. The ancient roared a bloody call of desperation. It was sorrowful, but was cut short by a series of convulsions that sent him tumbling out of Lyke's grasp to splay out on the stone.

"Ilisha!" Lyke turned back to the altar, fear in his eyes. "It's done! Let it go!" She did so, falling back to the surface of the altar with a brilliant flash from the column. Then all went dark for a moment. Lyke knelt there in the dark, wheezing, aching, and blind. Then the light of the full moon shone back through the air vent high above, casting a silver glow on the blood on the altar. He crawled to it, suddenly aware that he was very cold. As he did so, his right paw brushed something hard on the ground. It was warm. As many green runes flared to life, he realized it was The Wolf-Bane Sword. By the light of the runes, he saw the ancient with his fingers buried in his throat. The sword was laid out beside him. It hadn't hurt Lyke when his brushed up against it, so he took it up. The runes still shone and he felt no pain from it. Using it as a lamp of sorts, he managed to find his violin, and climb the rest of the way up the dais to the altar. He stretched his free paw to Ilisha, prodding her.

"Ilisha..." He stopped and took several deep breaths through the mouth before continuing. "It's done... He's dead, you did it." There was no response. He used the side of the altar to pull himself up. He moved the sword over her face. She was not moving, and her eyes were shut tight. Her face was set in a mask of pain. With his free arm, he took her around her chest, dragging her off the altar with a thud. He was too weak to carry her, so he let her fall. Then, he set to marching back for the door, her body dragging behind him, smearing the blood of the ancient over the floor. Her fur was a paintbrush, and he carved a swath of red all the way to the door. He strapped the sword to his side and took the cold metal of the door handle in his paw.

"It would be a shame to die right now, Ilisha... A real shame..." With this, he pulled open the door, only to fall backwards with the effort. The floor rushed up to meet him and the room spun twice in a circle before he picked himself back up. Luckily the door was open. "Half way there already..." He took her up again, and he set off for the stairs. If he could die in the open moonlight, stretched out on that grass on the plains... That would be just beautiful. Cradling the body of his mate, living or dead, it didn't matter now, and just watch the moon set over the mountains. That was what he was fighting for now.