“I know. We must find it quickly.”
She brought up her wand, held it outstretched, pointing toward Mawdoor.
But there was no time. It happened quickly. The earth began to shake. Maida screamed. The old people tripped over themselves to escape.
Then there was silence. There wasn’t a single breath of life for one very long moment.
Mawdoor was standing now, his wand in his right hand, and in his left hand he held a golden sword. “I will kill you with this, prince. I searched far and wide for a sword that would pierce a wizard’s heart and freeze it in his chest.”
32
“WELL, NOW, MAWDOOR,” the prince said, legs apart, hands on his hips, “this is all very interesting. You fashioned a special golden sword, just for me?”
“I have always hated your wit, prince. But soon you will speak no more. After I have mated with Brecia, I will burn that oak forest of hers, pile rocks until the trees flatten and the earth beneath them gives way, and let her grieve for all the ghosts who will be no more. Brecia, you brought up the cask, that was devious of you. Once the prince is dead, I will teach you a lesson even a witch won’t forget.”
Brecia spoke softly, blowing the words at Mawdoor, as she spoke. “Your feet burn, Mawdoor, burn, burn, burn.”
He jumped three feet into the air, and his golden sword fell from his hand.
The prince was on him in a minute, moving so quickly he was nearly a blur. Mawdoor’s sword was in his hand the next instant, and he yelled as he aimed the brilliant golden point at the prince’s chest.
The prince didn’t have a sword, but he had a knife. It was in his hand, come up to Mawdoor’s throat, when the skies turned utterly black. There were voices, loud voices, all around them, screaming, and the voices were converging on Mawdoor and the prince.
“Kill him!”
The screaming voices suddenly took shape. Hundreds, no, thousands of crows swooped down upon the prince, covering him, their great black wings flapping wildly all around him.
Mawdoor stood back, the tip of his golden sword buried in the ground at his feet, and he was laughing.
Suddenly a dozen of the black crows went flying through the air, landing hard on the ground, dead. More fell away, all dead. The prince was standing there, slapping his hands in a circle around him, a protective circle that shielded him and killed anything that touched it.
Mawdoor roared and came at him again, the golden sword raised.
Brecia saw that the prince was covered with blood from the birds stabbing him with their beaks before he’d gotten the shield into place. She yelled in fury and aimed her wand at Mawdoor. “Bend the golden sword around his neck!”
But the sword kept coming toward the prince.
And now winged creatures swooped down. They were demons—a score of black demons flying straight at him—and at their center was a great red demon, the most powerful, the most dangerous of all demons. They were Mawdoor’s kin. He’d alerted them, brought them here.
Brecia shouted as she waved her wand, “Demon blood scorch the earth!”
The red demon drew back and looked at her, and Brecia thought she would die of fear at the malevolence in those red eyes. Nothing happened. She felt as helpless as a mortal, an awful feeling.
The prince knew he had little time. Demons were the worst, nearly invincible, and there were so many of them. Mawdoor had done things correctly this time.
A demon broke away and came right at him. He felt long claws dig into his face. He couldn’t see, couldn’t see. He pictured Mawdoor in his mind’s eye and flung his knife.
He heard a loud yell but couldn’t see where his knife had struck.
Three more demons were on him now, and he couldn’t get them away. The pain was hideous, worse than the assassin’s sword in his heart. He saw the red demon hovering, waiting for the black demons to hold him. Then it would come in for the kill.
He fought, breaking necks, arms, legs, but there were just too many. He used all his power, but the demons were from another realm, a realm not touched by a wizard’s magic, and Mawdoor had brought them here, doubtless a favor for his long-dead father. He felt Brecia’s magic slamming against the demons, but nothing helped.
She knew the demons would kill him, rip him to pieces, and knew he was helpless against them. She had to hurry.
She yelled, “Bring me the key!”
In that instant, the key was her hand. She stuck the small key in the cask lock and turned it. The lid flew open. Brecia raised the cask toward Mawdoor and yelled, “Come inside, Mawdoor, for all eternity! Your demons with you!”