swords met. Semiazas’ power was immense. The blow pummelled Sam’s own blade down onto his chest.
Above him, Semiazas leered. “Let’s continue this somewhere more comfortable, shall we?”
Before Sam had time to respond, the world around them blurred, shadows gathered and then parted suddenly to reveal a familiar scorched landscape. Hell. They were back in Hell, a place that Sam had hoped to never visit again. Somehow, his brother was able to travel between the planes without the aid of a pentagram.
Sam was still on his back, Semiazas perched above him, his blade resting almost casually against Sam’s own. Sam could tell from his brother’s body language that he felt he had the advantage. This was his home turf, a place where his powers were strongest. Semiazas had miscalculated though. He either didn’t know that Sam had already been to this realm or assumed that Sam would be disorientated enough for Semiazas to quickly finish his brother. Either way, he was wrong.
As soon as Sam breathed in the sulphuric stink of the place, renewed strength filled him. He grinned savagely and surged to his feet, throwing his brother backwards and off-guard. Sam found himself on an island of rock, hundreds of metres tall, completely surrounded by a vast pit of blazing hell-fire. The foul winds of Hell buffeted him but he welcomed them, breathing deeply, enjoying the feeling of power they inspired in him.
Semiazas’ confident sneer disappeared to be replaced by something akin to shock. He paused, looking at his brother in a new light.
“I see you find this place more to your liking.”Semiazas shrugged. “No matter. I think you’ll find that your powers are no match for mine here.”
He gestured with his hand. Tendrils of impenetrable blackness leapt from his open palm to wrap themselves around Sam. He tried to cut them but both blades passed harmlessly through the midnight tentacles as if they didn’t exist. As Semiazas watched, smiling, they began to constrict him.
He felt his breath shorten. He was beginning to black out. The black serpentine bonds were going to end his life, here, in the pit of Hell.
Then, a vision appeared unbidden in his mind’s eye. Aimi. She was holding her hand out to him. He felt a resurgence of power course through him. He had to fight this, had to defeat his brother. For the sake of Aimi.
He summoned some internal strength that he didn’t know he possessed. Taking a mighty breath, he expanded his chest and cast off the constricting bands. They evaporated like morning mist, freeing him. He stood before his brother somewhat unsteadily, taking a few hasty breaths.
Once again, Semiazas looked shocked. “I don’t know how you did that, but it will make no difference to the final outcome.”
He strode forward confidently, his sword above his head, then he struck quickly, supremely confident that Sam would be unable to withstand the attack given his stunned state.
He was wrong. Sam brought his blade down in a vicious parry, taking his opponent off-guard. His riposte almost skewered Semiazias who dodged nimbly aside.
Sam resumed his guard position, circling warily around his opponent. Red eyes stared into red eyes, sizing each other up, gauging weaknesses. They were well matched, his brother and he, with identical strength and reflexes. Semiazas had been well trained; Satan obviously had access to sword-masters in Hell.
Semiazas attacked again, this time thrusting straight out. Sam moved to block but it was a feint. The blade twirled under his defence and he felt a burning sensation as it struck home, slicing cleanly through the flak jacket he wore and biting deep into his chest. He winced in pain and immediately felt weaker. With open dismay, he noticed that Semiazas’ blade seemed to be glowing as if it fed on his injury.
“Do you like my blade?” Semiazas sneered. “It’s called Soulstealer for a reason. Forged in these very hell fires over two thousand years ago. It feeds on life-force.”
Sensing the advantage, Semiazas attacked with renewed vigour. It was all Sam could do to defend, forcing him back towards the rocky precipice. Semiazas’ blade seemed to be everywhere at once, moving with such speed that even Sam struggled to see it. Soulstealer struck home again and again, leaving bloody trails on the top of Sam’s thigh, on both arms. Each time the cursed sword struck home, Sam felt his strength ebbing, and he was at a serious disadvantage with only one blade. Semiazas, he admitted, was a better swordsman than he. Two blades would even things out. If only he had his wakizashi.
Semiazas had forced him right to the very brink of the precipice. Sam risked a glance downwards and the sheer drop made his head swim. Even if he survived the fall, he doubted whether he would actually be able to survive immolation in the fires of Hell. He simply couldn’t let this fight go on for much longer; he would have to end it quickly or Semiazas would wear him down or just force him into the pit. Soon, he would be too weak to hold his blade.
As the edge began to crumble away, he lost his balance momentarily. Instantly, Semiazas moved in to take advantage, preparing to run Sam through.
This is it, thought Sam. It’s over. I’ve lost. There was no possible way he could turn the blade aside.
“Hey!” Both men turned at the sound of the voice.
Standing nonchalantly on the other side of the rocky island was a creature Sam recognized. Samyaza the Grigori.
“Thought this would even things up a bit. Here, catch.”
He tossed something through the air. It glittered as it tumbled and Sam immediately recognized it. His wakizashi.
Semiazas, taken aback by the appearance of the Watcher, failed to intercept the blade as it arched over his head. Sam caught it with his free hand and immediately went back on the offensive, forcing Semiazas backwards, moving away from the edge.
Sam fought with renewed confidence. Both blades became extensions of his hands, moving with blinding skill and swiftness. Semiazas continued to retreat, his face a grim mask of concentration. Nearby, the Grigori watched dispassionately.
Then, just as Sam thought he had Semiazas on the run, his brother did the unexpected. Pivoting on his heel and dropping to one knee, Semiazas spun so quickly that even Sam couldn’t follow. His blade scythed out at waist level with enough power to slice clean through rock. Sam knew he couldn’t block this. The strength and momentum generated was simply too much. Without a great deal of tactical awareness or even conscious thought, he leapt upwards and almost made it. Almost.
He felt the lower part of his left leg come in contact with the blade and knew immediately that it was bad. A surge of pain flashed through him, so intense he almost blacked out again. When his vision cleared, he found himself prone on the ground. His brother was standing over him again, the point of his sword pressed up against Sam’s heart. This was starting to become a regular occurrence.
“Well, well, well,” said a smooth voice so well oiled it could only belong to one … being. Satan had returned home.
Through the haze of his pain, Sam swivelled his head in the same direction that his brother was staring.
Satan stood on the opposite side of the rock finger to the Watcher. He was not alone. Joshua and Aimi were with him, Aimi still captive, a knife at her throat.
“Father,” said Semiazas. “Now you will see who is the stronger.” He readied his blade to plunge into Sam’s heart.
The Father of Lies simply nodded. “Yes, we will.”
Semiazas’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded.
His father never got the chance to reply. This was Sam’s moment. Despite the crippling injury and pain, he had to use this distraction. Both of his swords were still, unbelievably, gripped in his hands. Other than when they were knocked out of his hands, Hikari had taught him never to release his swords, regardless of how much pain he suffered. He remembered past training sessions when his master would hit his hands as hard as he could with bamboo staves, trying to make him drop his weapons. Sam never had. At least, not until today.
It was testament to Semiazas’s power that Sam had already lost his grip on his weapons once today. But old habits died hard. Even in semi-consciousness, he’d retained his grip. He wasn’t about to waste this opportunity.
He powered upwards with both swords, using all his remaining strength. His wakizashi went wide but he felt the katana bite into his brother’s flesh with a satisfying judder. It wasn’t a life threatening injury but it just could even things up slightly. Semiazas cried out and leapt backwards, clutching his side.
Ignoring the immense pain and the wave of dizziness that threatened to overcome him, Sam stood, clearly
