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A few skeletons attacked, hoping to stop the heroes but Ghul Lykos wolfed out and tore into the dark forces like a fire through a dry cornfield. Sykaryn barreled out and grabbed a sword from a fallen skeleton and started bashing them into dust. Even Miniver and Esmerelda did their part, the old man defending the girl with a club as she began zapping the zombies and ghouls with her weak purple lightning bolts.
Daemona fought her way toward Harlin. “You made it how?”
“I could still read, I just couldn’t speak. So, I hopped to the next page until he read the right spell, and here I am.”
“I’m glad,” she said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. Harlin had been there for her through some terrible fights. Who knew hated enemies could become friends? Either way, Daemona was proud to call Harlin her friend now.
“I just had to have the book in front of me to point it out to him. But nobody let me, I was stuck in a satchel, you know.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
Harlin said, “I understand.”
“I was getting tired of carrying you.”
Harlin smirked at her but quickly shifted his focus to defending himself against the wave of undead minions.
Ghul Lykos bowled over the skeletons and ghouls until he reached Ivy. He knelt and gently picked her up. She looked like she was sleeping, with a pale, chilled look about her. Two tiny puncture marks leaked drips of blood from her swan-like neck, and the werewolf raised his head and howled a deafening cry of pain and loss.
“Come, Ghul Lykos!” Sykaryn shouted. “Show me what you are made of and let us finally defeat this evil that has befouled your lands.” Daemona blinked in surprise as Ghul Lykos fell silent. He gingerly propped Ivy against the stone wall and took his place next to his princess, fighting with a new, fierce determination as he tore at foe after foe. I guess she’s not all talk after all, Daemona thought to herself as Sykaryn skillfully dispatched ghouls and goblins in droves.
Just as every wave of skeletons and dark creature were beaten back, a new throng moved forward. Ghul Tark himself was levitating a few feet from the floor. He casually reached and plucked the crossbow bolt from his chest and snarled, “It will take so much more than that for you fools to defeat me.”
Chapter 19:
A wave of skeletal warriors charged in from some dark and unknown quarter and the heroes found themselves nearly overwhelmed in that horrid push of bone and steel. But they rallied and fought together with all their might.
Ghul Lykos roared his contempt. His slashing claws shattered both bone and iron as he batted away the myriad foes in an effort to reach Ghul Tark.
Sykaryn swung her sword with expert finesse, relishing the challenge as she cleaved through her dark enemies like a great stone in a river.
Miniver and Esmerelda contributed to the fight, she with her pulsing light witch powers shooting concussive purple lightning blasts and he with a staff, watching over her. Anytime a skeleton or ghoul came too close, he would bash it over the head if she didn’t get it first. They made a remarkable team, the young and the old together.
Daemona ported through the throng, slicing and dicing, feeling incredibly accomplished and proud until a semi-familiar form appeared in the room’s darkest corner. At first it was a simple bobbing light, then it was a hooded figure with a gigantic scythe. Harlin and Ghul Lykos said this was a wisp? No way! This is the very specter of death! She panicked, the memory of its dark aura nearly overpowering her. She would keep fighting, she had to, but she would fight somewhere else.
Then it was beside her.
Her eyes widened in gripping fear and she blinked away, but it was still beside her, matching her every move—every port—every possible space she could flee too. She ported to the empty floor above in the long lonely hallway and there the Death Spectre met her, cackling deeply like wind in a hollow cavern.
The horrid menace swung its great scythe at her and she just barely dodged, but noticed a few of her white hairs floating in the air, cut free by the monstrous, deadly weapon. She lanced back with her daggers, but these did nothing despite piercing the dark maroon cloak of the specter.
Did it just laugh?
She ported away. She couldn’t fight something that could not be harmed.
Then it was beside her once again. She dodged away, porting to every corner and floor of the monstrous mansion, and still the fiend was ever beside her, swinging its deadly blade and laughing. It’s laughing at me!
Anger finally came to Daemona, pouring out like water from a drinking vessel. When she stopped running and turned to the skull faced ghost, it paused. The scythe flew from the Death Spectre’s grasp and buried itself in the wall beside her. She hadn’t dodged this time. It had missed. A killer ghost could miss. She lunged forward and sliced the dark cloak to ribbons, all the while shouting, “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not afraid of you!”
Now it was the specter’s turn to try and flee. As she cut its vaporous cloak to pieces, it seemed to shrink before her very eyes. It became smaller and smaller until it was a ball of coiling black strips of fabric. She pin cushioned these to the floor, still shouting at it, until it completely vanished.
Daemona was breathing hard. She looked, and realized she was still in the basement chamber, surrounded by both her friends and enemies. They had all paused and were looking at her.
Harlin, Ghul Lykos, and the others cheered. “You did it!”
Daemona was unsure of what they had seen but took heart at their words and turned to face Ghul Tark and the rest of his boneheads.
“You have only defeated but one of my champions,” said Ghul Tark. “Behold, another!” He threw his cloak over his own shoulders and dropped and spun about like a cyclone. His form twisted and grew and then, unbelievably, they were facing a giant, monstrous vampire bat.
