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Though the skeletons’ limbs are cast into dozens of tiny fragments, I half expect them to reassemble themselves. They don’t, however. I suppose the dark magic whirring inside Natharius’s blade has shattered the spell reanimating their decayed corpses.
“Yanli!” Taria’s voice echoes through the hall. The golden shield explodes. Blinding light flashes through the darkness, causing the undead to stumble back. Those nearest erupt into flames. The holy fire consumes their decayed bones, leaving only ash.
The intensity causes even Natharius to stagger back. But the Void Prince soon recovers, his attention returning to Mulgath.
Natharius strides forth, his blade swinging toward the necromancer. His attack leaves me exposed to the surrounding undead, since I’m no longer safely behind his wings. Fortunately, Taria’s spell keeps them disoriented a moment longer, providing me with the opportunity I need.
“Laxus,”I say.
In the next breath, I’m standing beside Caya and Juron, Zephyr safely behind us all.
Then the undead recover from Taria’s explosion, their rotten hands reaching out for us.
“Ignira!”I cry, using the aether remaining from my teleportation spell to conjure a swift fireball. I hurl the flames at the nearest undead.
A thud sounds as Caya’s blade beheads a skeleton. Its skull falls onto the onyx floor.
“Mizarel!” comes Taria’s shout. A beacon of holy light shines in her hands. She holds her palms out to her enemies, and a golden beam shoots forth. The light slices through several undead, and they wither away, their decrepit bodies unable to withstand a powerful attack of holy magic.
Behind, Natharius’s sword slams toward Mulgath. Before the obsidian blade can reach the necromancer, he conjures a shield of dark magic. It cracks under Natharius’s sword, but the barrier holds fast.
Though both Taria’s and my attacks obliterate several of the undead, more stalk forth to take their place.
“Ignir’alas!”
Wings of fire burst from my fingers. They soar upward through the vaulted ceiling before plummeting down to the hordes of undead. A dozen undead are destroyed by the spell.
Taria releases another barrage of holy fire. She too defeats many of the undead. Our attacks continue, steadily plowing through our countless enemies.
Though I haven’t yet recovered from the wisps siphoning my power, there’s no choice but to keep drawing on aether and conjuring spells. In the back of my mind, I feel fatigue gnawing on my consciousness. But I fight past the exhaustion, knowing if I falter for even a moment then the hordes of undead will consume both me and my allies.
A piercing crack rings through the hall as Natharius shatters Mulgath’s shield. Before the demon’s blade can reach the necromancer, Mulgath sends a blast of dark magic hurling forth. Natharius steps away, narrowly avoiding it.
Too busy glancing back over my shoulder at Natharius, I’m slow to notice the undead nearest me. It’s the reanimated bones of a bear, its claws sweeping toward me.
Before the bear can reach me, Juron’s blade crashes into its paw. His sword shatters the bones, leaving the undead bear critically wounded. Juron’s attack offers me plenty of time to mutterigniraand hurl a ferocious fireball at the bear. The flames slam into it and obliterate its bones.
I glance across at Juron and lift my head in a silent thanks. He doesn’t have the chance to acknowledge the gesture, too busy slashing his shining sword out at the next undead.
I turn back to my own enemies, continuing to blast through skeleton after skeleton. Maybe it’s only my wishful thinking, but it seems that the hordes of undead are finally waning.
Though my enemies seem to lessen, so is my energy. Already the dark walls are spinning around me, and my aim is growing clumsier. A few spells miss, and many more barely strike their target. The ferocity of my attacks is also rapidly decreasing. My fireballs are little more than flickering flames. I don’t know how I’ll keep holding off the undead.
Taria seems to be faring only marginally better. The priestess’s once blinding magic is now so faint that the shadows threaten to consume it.
But before the remaining undead can overwhelm us, a crash thunders through the hall. As do Mulgath’s piercing howls.
The floor shakes. I stumble, struggling to find my balance as the ground beneath trembles. Only when all falls silent does the floor stabilize.
I glance over my shoulder to where Natharius and Mulgath fight before the obsidian throne.
The Void Prince’s blade is wedged within the onyx floor, and Mulgath lies beneath it.
Defeated.
thirty-one
Theundeadfreezeatthe sight of their master defeated by the Void Prince’s sword.
