He raced out from behind his cover. Nabu saw him but was powerless to do anything; if he broke his concentration now, my arcane wall would steamroll him and turn him into a pile of rotten flesh and brittle bones. Fang grabbed the font in his jaws and charged up the steps near Nabu. With a jerk of his powerful neck, he flung the thing at the bishop.
Being hit by something that heavy and solid would have instantly killed even the biggest and strongest of men, but Nabu, in this form, was the closest thing there was to a demigod. Still, the force and momentum was enough to send him flying. He was hurled out of the beam of golden light and flung across the room. The marble altar stopped him mid-flight, his armored body leaving a crater in the delicate stonework.
His warhammer spiraled through the air, and a golden thread whipped across the hall to seize it. The warhammer was yanked in the opposite direction, and I saw Elyse catch it in her hands.
With no torrent of fire to hold it back, my Death wall had surged on ahead, plowing a passage of rot and destruction through the cathedral, carving out a huge rut in the floor at top speed before smashing out a side wall. I called it off and threw down the shield, panting. Using such intense power had really taken it out of me, but I still had enough strength to kick Nabu’s ass.
I charged over to the altar with Elyse, Rami, and my remaining skeletons racing along behind me. Nabu was struggling to his feet, groggy but still very much capable of fighting. Even though he was shrouded in shadows and a good distance from the stained glass windows, he had maintained the form of a hulking, eight-foot-tall warrior. His light and hammer had been taken, but I wasn’t about to underestimate him.
“The Blood God will rule with the Lord of Light as his servant,” he rasped, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
“I don’t give a fuck about the Patron of Menstruation or his buddy, the Prince of Prudes,” I said. “I’ve come here to help a friend get her bishopric back.”
Elyse’s hands were glowing with light as she prepared to use her rope, and Rami had a sai in each hand, while Sarge was holding his golden greatsword in a combat stance. I heard a distant rumbling and held up my hand before any of them could attack. It was followed by the sound of splintering wood as the locked doors were cracked open.
“You should have dealt with me sooner,” Nabu said over the sound of marching boots. From the side doors, about 20 guards entered, arrayed in chainmail armor and wielding spiked poleaxes.
Still, the time we’d bought had allowed me to weaken Nabu. And his soul wasn’t going to leave this place unless it traveled through Grave Oath. All these guards had achieved by coming here was to provide more souls for my dagger.
Chapter Sixteen
“You take the guards,” I called out to Elyse and Rami. Then I sent a command to my remaining skeletons, Sarge, and Fang to protect the women at all costs while I dealt with Nabu.
As massive and as strong as he was in this form, he was still just a fat old drunkard at his core. While my companions and my undead engaged the guards, Nabu and I squared up. His hands balled into fists within his golden gauntlets and started to glow with power, but even though he towered over me by a good two feet, a glint of fear appeared in his eyes, plain as day,.
From the way he moved as we circled each other, I could tell that my assumptions about his lack of close-combat abilities were correct. Every time he attempted to move closer to the cathedral’s center and so bathe himself in the moonlight, I forced him back into the shadows. He had the advantage of armor, but he obviously didn’t trust himself without his warhammer or his precious light. Without them, he was nervous and tentative. And those were two traits that got you killed.
“First, I will crush your puny skull,” Nabu said as the battle raged on around us, “and then, I will—”
I didn’t give him the chance to finish. I darted in for a feint, and he took a swing at me with his right fist. A powerful but clumsy blow flew past my face as I reared back. His armored fist crashed into the side of the altar in an explosive shower of marble fragments and stone dust. I made a quick mental note: if he did actually manage to hit me with those magic-enhanced fists, my head would pop like someone stomped on an arachne egg sack.
I darted in again, and he took another swing at me. This time, I predicted his attack and swept my dagger up toward his face. His other hand suddenly lashed out and gripped my wrist.
“I have you, little necromancer.” Nabu smiled and squeezed, and I felt my bones about to break under the pressure.
“I don’t think so.” I’d grabbed a throwing star from my belt, and I jammed it into his right eyeball with my free hand. A spiked end plunged through, and he howled as he tore it free. Blood poured from the wound in crimson rivulets, and a network of black veins blossomed from it.
“Nabu the One-Eye,” I said. “I don’t know, I kind of like it.”
He growled through the pain and tried to lunge for me with both hands. I sidestepped his amateurish attack and darted past him. Before he could whirl around, I gripped his upper arm and used all my strength to hurl him to the floor. Marble tiles shattered beneath his weight, and the ground trembled. His magical
