It wasn’t working.
The stone transformation caused by the Bloodstone Blade caught up with Bale but he was not petrified himself. It seemed to stop just at the point where the Blood rose up from the ground to form his enormous body and would go no further. It did seem to have an adverse effect on the Blood Ferals who could no longer leap into and out of the river of Blood. Some of them attempted to merge with Bale himself only to find themselves rebuked with a giant backhand that sent them splattering across the ground and onto the horde of minions who were slowing down as their evil lord bellowed his rage at the world.
Bale pushed onward and though the petrifaction of the stone seemed to slow him somewhat he did not stop. It gave the slower of his minions a chance to catch up with him and the long, strung out army began to clump up a bit more.
Speaks turned and dove back toward where Cathal and Rhys awaited. A minute later he resumed his human form and stood before them. “It isn’t working. Bale is only slowing down and his army is clustering more tightly around him.”
Cathal shook his head, “Then our plan has failed. We must isolate him if possible. We cannot allow him the full strength of his army.” He started over toward the broad, smooth expanse of stone that had been a river of Blood only a few minutes ago. But before he could reach for the blade, a blast if icy frost ripped across he and Speaks. Both men were utterly surprised and cast about for the source of the attack.
Appearing in mid-air above them was the Blue Demoness, eyes filled with mindless hatred. She began to surge toward them with her giant scythe in hand.
Cathal reacted first and stepped in front of where the Bloodstone Blade remained plunged into the stone river, drawing his crackling bastard sword. He would not let her try and steal the weapon that they still hoped might be their salvation. He made ready to strike if she came any closer.
Speaks wasted no time either. He feared her weapon far less than the possibility that she might try and take the Bloodstone Blade. Knowing how slippery she could be, he called immediately on the Wild and limned her in a faint, flickering Faerie Fire.
The Demoness bore angrily down on the Druid and chopped at him with her huge weapon. He avoided the worst of the blow but suffered a cut across the arm as he backpedaled, doing his best to draw her away from the Bloodstone Blade. Cathal slashed at her as she went by leaving a deep cut across her abdomen that smoked with the lightning that played across his blade. He was reluctant to pursue her any further lest he leave the Bloodstone Blade unattended.
Many times she had fought these men and never had they killed her. Gella had cheated death since first they met at the bottom of the sinkhole in the Blackpeaks. But her frustration had grown with each failed confrontation and now as she was held in the unwilling thrall of her new master who instilled hatred and rage in his followers, she was determined that they would be the ones who were defeated this time. She raised her scythe high overhead and chopped downward at the robed one in front of her, delivering a terrible slash to his shoulder.
Speaks grimaced under the weight of the attack but glanced past her and knew what he must do. He spun away from her, barely avoiding another slash from her lengthy weapon and scrambled a dozen paces away from her bringing his arm up to shield himself. She started toward him preparing to finish him off but only managed a couple of steps before the world exploded around her.
First one and then another Fireball shot from Rhys’ outstretched wand as he plied his deadly magic swiftly, aided by magic that would Hasten his actions. Not all of his time in Sythia had been spent wooing elven princesses. Only most of it.
The heat of Gella’s rage was surpassed by the heat of the twin explosions and her body was torn completely in half. She spun, landing in two places. Her torso raised itself up on her arms for a moment as her hair burned away and she at last collapsed onto the flaming grass, never to rise again.
Cathal did not wish to waste any further time during which others of Bale’s minions might come to assault them. He sheathed his weapon and gripped the hilt of the Bloodstone Blade in both hands. Bracing both feet against the ground, his muscles strained and with a grinding sound the blade slipped free of its stony sheath. Cathal staggered back away from the Blood River as it began to resume its sanguine consistency.
The three men hurried back aboard the Flying Carpet and Rhys took them back into the air to return south where the true battle was to take place. As they rose into the late morning sky, Cathal leaned close to Speaks. “I fear,” he said, “that Lazarius is going to be furious with us for killing her without him.”
Speaks managed to actually laugh and wondered if it would be the last time. “If we’re still alive tomorrow, we’ll tell him then.”
And so it was that three friends went to do battle for the fate of the world with smiles on their faces.
