Clarysa bit her lip. Would her brother agree to the plan? He was accustomed to giving orders, not accepting them.
To her relief, Edward saluted him. After a quick nod to Clarysa, he left to carry out the orders.
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Clarysa.”
She looked up into Stellan’s face. “Yes?”
“Find someone to help you move Lionel to my bedroom. Change his bandages as often as needed and keep him comfortable.”
Clarysa nodded. “I’ll take care of him. What are you going to do?”
Stellan clasped her hand and then turned sharply on a heel. He spoke over his shoulder. “I’m going to finish this.”
Clarysa watched him depart through a veil of tears. Behind her, Lionel lay on the brink of death. Before her, Stellan was heading into battle. It could very well be this cruelly brief reunion would be the last time she ever saw either one of them alive.
Chapter 40
Stellan left the hall of wounded, his heart racing. He had to defeat Sada. She was now controlling Pestilence through unknown magickal means–no doubt a gift from their father. As for her newfound strength, Stellan could only guess what terrible door she had opened to acquire it. He smacked a fist against the wall. I’m coming for you, bitch! One way or another, it ends now!
He tore down to the depths of his workroom. He grabbed bottles left and right. Regarding them on the battered wooden table, he frowned. None of these would do; none were powerful enough. But what else could he use? He didn’t have Sada’s training or resources.
His gaze drifted to the topmost shelf. The stranger’s gift still lay there, pulsing away as usual. The gift had nearly stolen his mind after he had dared to use its terrible power once before.
It’s the only way, he thought. Sada cannot succeed no matter what price I may pay.
He shoved a chair against the shelves and used it as an ersatz ladder. Up he went and reached into the darkness–a darkness broken only by the awful grayish-white glow.
* * * *
Stellan stepped forth onto the bloody battlefield.
Before him, the remaining soldiers of Aldebaran were stretching the limits of their abilities to hold the forces of Pestilence at bay. They fared poorly. Several of the men had become infected themselves and had turned on their comrades within minutes. Edward never stopped fighting, never stopped issuing orders, but he now led a troop that was rapidly shrinking in number.
Sada stood apart from the chaos, her mad features glowing with satisfaction–or insanity? “So good of you to join us again,” she said, projecting her voice with ease.
Stellan ignored her taunt. He set aside the sack he’d brought and drew a sword. The gleaming white hilt contrasted sharply with the black-as-pitch blade. He pointed the weapon toward his twin. “It ends now, Sada. It ends for fallen friends, for my beloved, and for Mother.” He punctuated each word with a thrust of the sword. “It. Ends. Now!”
His breathing was steady, even, his concentration utmost. He angled the sword back over his head. The blade glowed white-hot. Stellan’s entire frame shook as he channeled his magick. Perspiration ran in torrents down his face.
With a loud grunt, he aimed the sword toward Sada. The sword tip launched the luminous form of an ethereal woman, growing steadily in both size and power. She was transparent and beautiful, yet deadly in scope. She swept over the ranks of Pestilence, causing each to burst into flame.
But Sada had other plans. Her obsidian eyes flashed. The form of a ghostly wolf sprang from her body. This magickal familiar also grew in breadth and power until it reached the size of Stellan’s.
They clashed above the battlefield. The “wolf” tore at the throat of the “woman,” as strands of her long hair whipped around and attempted to strangle her opponent. Electricity ripped through the air, only for both forms to dissolve into nothingness–an effectual stalemate.
Stellan collapsed to the ground, mentally and physically drained. He had never attempted to manifest anything that size and scope before, and it had left him nearly depleted.
A broad smile stretched across Sada’s face. Stellan cursed. She seemed able to recover much faster.
She extended her arms high above her head. Particles of light formed and swirled about her lithe frame, concentrating on her hands as its epicenter. Something there began to take shape. She conjured forth a small black-and-purple butterfly. Its diaphanous wings beat softly as it poised upon her index finger.
Sada’s smile grew, radiant and warm. But Stellan knew the apparent sentiment was far, far from the truth.
Sada leaned forward and gently blew the gossamer creature forward with a kiss. It took to the air, flapping its wings as it grew larger and larger, finally reaching gargantuan proportions.
Stellan steeled himself. This was no simple sisterly kiss being blown his way. The lethal manifestation flapped through the air. As it neared, its head took on the appearance of the skull of Death.
He held his magickal sword out before him. The creature’s earsplitting shriek assailed his ears. Stellan slashed away as the butterfly’s mammoth wings enveloped him. He punctured one wing, then sought another opening. A second shriek sent a wave of agony through his head. He felt like tearing off his ears to make it stop.
Six powerful legs ripped into his flesh. Lavender flames engulfed his body. Stellan clenched his teeth against the stinging pain. He struggled to lift his sword, but two of the legs pinned his arms to his sides.
Hunter Red ran forward and attacked the butterfly with his sword, but to no effect. The mortal weapon passed right through the manifestation. The creature unfurled its proboscis and plunged the tip into Stellan’s neck. It was feeding its ravenous appetite by draining his life force. Weakness forced him to his knees. He was dying right there on the battlefield, and his mocking sister knew it.
One hope remained. Hunter Red had seen his share of otherworldly spectacles.
