Yanus looked almost curiously at the blade protruding from his chest. Rhanu's growl rumbled from his chest as he gave the blade a vicious twist. Yanus jerked convulsively, snarling in pain and rage. He craned around, crackling bone and popping tendons in his neck until his head twisted completely backward. Blood stained his misshapen lips when he stared down at Rhanu.
His smile was bestial.
With an ear-splitting yowl, he dissipated into fog. His misty form swung to Rhanu's side where he reformed, unmarked from the critical wound. His sword was quicksilver, glimmering as it whirred.
Crimson mist sparkled from Rhanu's chest when the blade slashed. His weapons clattered uselessly to the snow. A roar filled his ears as a wave of agony slammed into him. He saw Han sail through the air like a toy soldier. He heard Marcellus howl in rage, and the sickening sounds of Yanus' laughter. The world turned scarlet. It was his blood, and it was everywhere.
Chapter 39: Nyori
Nyori's stomach twisted when Rhanu slowly crumpled. His eyes were closed, his face reposed when he fell face forward into the blood-soaked snow. She immediately ran toward him, praying she could reach him in time. Praying Yanus would not kill her before she could get there.
Han gave an enraged shout and shot forward with his sword glittering like newly formed ice. It sliced through Yanus' black armor with hardly a sound. Steaming black blood spurted, mixing with Rhanu's crimson stains in the snow. Yanus snarled and flung his hand forward. The air flashed, and Han sailed across the battleground as though weightless before striking a tall spruce tree with a cracking sound. A blanket of snow fell from the branches and nearly buried him.
Marcellus faced Yanus alone. His sword was raised in an attack stance, his gaze steady on the monster before him.
Meshella collapsed in front of Nyori. Her akhkharu foe stomped his boot in her back and raised his weapon. Nyori swung Eymunder. The orb flashed, and the impact jolted her arms as the akhkharu sprawled head over heels. But he rose just as quickly and flung a hand toward Nyori. She gasped as a force slammed against Eymunder, which repelled the blow's impact. She staggered backward as her attacker skittered insect-like, trying to flank her. His head tilted as though he tried to figure out how she evaded the attack.
The long coat he wore made her think of snake scales. It glimmered like armor, yet was flexible as fabric. A lace cloak, Yanus had called it. Nyori recalled the akhkharu that first pursued her in the Dragonspine had worn such outfits. Whatever the material was, it shielded them from the sun and allowed them to retain access to their powers. Nyori held Eymunder's amber orb toward her foe to keep him at bay. Her heart pounded as the noises encircled her: Yanus' deranged laughter, screams of dying Huntsmen, Fregeror's bear-like roars, the savage clash of steel. She had studied the scroll Ayna gave her, but finding the correct words of Apokrypy was next to impossible. Her focus shattered every time her opponent moved.
Clutching his side, Fregeror staggered to reach them. The other akhkharu battled with Shiru, who appeared a match for his opponent. Their blades rang almost musically as they blurred against one another. Dradyn and a few of the surviving Huntsmen ran to aid Marcellus. Yanus cut down two of them without even slowing.
Meshella shrieked wordlessly and launched herself at the akhkharu that Nyori faced. Fregeror had found his ax and attacked as well. Nyori stepped back hesitantly, trying to figure out how to use her abilities without harming her friends. The slight respite allowed her to regain her focus. Her Inner Mind opened, allowing her to find the command best fitted to aid everyone.
The answer was Marcellus. But not as he was. Not as a man.
She raised Eymunder to the sky and traced the formation of the required Glyphs. The characters glowed golden against the cloud-smothered sky as she voiced the command that would blot out the sun.
"Etu kuan asbutu."
Eymunder's light immediately winked out. The sky did soon after. It was just midday, but the sun vanished, turning their surroundings pitch black as though the night had returned with a vengeance. Only silhouettes were visible, shadows battling across the snow that glittered as though it somehow harnessed some of the dead sun's light.
The wind shifted, a cold blast that tried to cool the fever of the battleground. It swelled with the force of a sudden storm, casting powdery snow into Nyori's eyes. She shielded her face and peered at the nearby hilltop. Something moved in the rippling shadows. An inky form took shape, darker than the night that surrounded it. A bone-chilling scream reverberated through the trees, so piercing that it temporarily stilled the battlefield. Even Yanus paused as he turned to behold the creature that galloped toward them.
The Night Mare was there before anyone could react, drenching the air with her challenging scream. The stench of sulfur stung Nyori's nostrils as flames seared across the snow. When Yanus turned again, the Reaver strode through the fire to meet him. The black-armored knight was nearly as tall as Yanus, and its great ebony sword seemed to dim the light even further. Yanus met his opponent with his jagged teeth clenched in a fierce grin.
Gale force winds tore through the glade, billowing their cloaks and forcing the trees to bend in prostration as sheets of snow were flung across the glade. Light flashed when the Reaver's blade rang against Yanus'. Neither gave quarter, but matched stroke for savage stroke. Snowdrifts collapsed from the force of their blows, casting powder in the air that shimmered like starlight.
The other akhkharu panicked at the appearance of the Reaver. They disengaged and tried to flee, but the Night Mare ran them down. Their screams rang in the air as they were trampled under silver-shod hooves and finished by the unearthly flames she exhaled. As they expired in bursts of fluttering ashes, she turned to her master.
The Reaver drove Yanus back with a barrage of swiftly executed attacks. Yanus no longer grinned. His hideous face was fixed in concentration; spittle flew from his lips as he snarled. The Reaver's eyes blazed as it pressed against its foe. Snow exploded from their steps, icy sparks that fanned across the air.
Splitting the air with her scream, the Night Mare ran straight toward them. Her silvery hooves flashed with every powerful stride. Their blades clashed a final time just as she reached them. Nyori shielded her face as the air rippled in the wake. Only Eymunder's protective shield kept her from being bowled over. The other Huntsmen toppled from the force, flung backward as the remaining snow fluttered from the trees in a cascade of glittering powder.
As suddenly as it began, it was over. Though the scream of the Night Mare still hung in the air, all three had vanished. The night gave way to day so quickly it was as if the phenomenon had never occurred.
Nyori winced at the sudden sunlight. It was still muted by cloud cover, but compared to the earlier darkness it was nearly blinding. She hesitantly surveyed the battleground. The skirmish was over. Even the snowstorm had dissipated as though drained of its energy. Most of the Huntsmen lay dead or dying, and smoldering piles of glowing ash marked where the akhkharu had been destroyed. Nyori stared at the concave of trampled snow and injured trees that had shed their canvas of snow. It was as though an explosion had racked the glade. She stumbled forward.
"Marcellus…"
There was no sign of him or Yanus. Legend said Night Mares could ride the shadows, traveling between realms and crossing vast distances in a heartbeat. Wherever the Night Mare took them, it was far away from where Nyori stood. She hugged herself for warmth, wondering if she would ever see him again.