Then the music of the chimes began to fade, and the humans started to move.
Conalin watched the beast as it landed on the mosaic floor. ‘You have only moments to live, child,’ said Anharat. ‘I shall tear out your heart.’ The beast seemed to flicker for a moment, then it moved slowly forward, towering above the boy. Suddenly it dropped down, arms outstretched, its huge dark head lunging forward. Conalin leapt, plunging the sword deep into the thick, black neck. The talons swept down and settled over Conalin’s shoulder. But they did not pierce the skin. Gently the beast pushed Conalin aside. Cream-coloured ichor spilled from the wound as the sword was torn free. Anharat dragged himself up onto the dais. Conalin hacked at his back, the blade slashing open the skin. The demon crawled past the queen and hauled himself up onto the altar. Twisting he spread his wings and lay back. Conalin jumped up and holding his sword with both hands drove it down into Anharat’s chest. The boy stared down into the demon’s eyes. Only then did he realize that the creature had made no move to attack him.
Confused, Conalin released the sword. Anharat’s taloned fingers curled round the hilt. But he made no attempt to draw it forth.
‘Emsharas!’ whispered the demon.
A black shadow moved alongside Conalin. He swung to see the armoured knight moving towards the queen.
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‘No!’ he shouted. With no weapon he sprang at the knight. A mailed fist hit him with a back handed blow that spun him from his feet.
Bakilas struggled on, the Storm Sword still thrust deep in his belly. Clinging to life he raised his blade. Axiana backed away. ‘Do not harm my son,’ she pleaded. Twenty feet away Nogusta pushed himself to his knees and drew a knife. His arm snapped forward. The blade flashed through the air, plunging deep into Bakilas’s left eye. The Krayakin staggered back, then dragged the knife clear, hurling it to the floor. Nogusta tried to draw another. Then he passed out.
The sound of galloping hoofs filled the air. Bakilas turned to see a horseman with a cloak of fire bearing down upon him. Desperately he swung towards the queen and made one last attempt to reach her. Antikas Karios lifted the Storm Sword high and threw it with all his strength. The blade scythed through the air and slammed through Bakilas’s neck. The Krayakin crumpled and fell across the body of Anharat.
Casting aside the blazing cloak Antikas leapt from Starfire. The horse’s mane was aflame and the warrior smothered the fire with his hands. The gelding was burned across the lower body, and his legs were blistered and bleeding. Antikas himself had injuries to his arms and hands, and the skin over his cheek bone showed a vivid red burn.
Upon the dais Anharat’s body began to glow with a brilliant, blinding light which filled the temple. Temporarily blinded Antikas fell to his knees, his hands over his face.
Behind him he could hear the pounding of feet, and guessed the pillars of fire had vanished.
Hands grabbed him, hauling him upright. He opened
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his eyes. At first he could see only vague shapes. But then he saw the face of the White Wolf swim into focus.
‘That was a fine ride,’ said Banelion. Antikas gazed upon the altar. There was no sign now of the Demon Lord, nor of the dead Krayakin. Both had vanished.
Conalin ran to where Nogusta lay, and knelt down beside him. ‘I killed it,’ he said. ‘I killed the beast!’
Nogusta gave a weak smile. ‘You did well, my friend. I … am proud of you.’ He took the boy’s hand and lifted it to the talisman. ‘What … do … you see?’ he asked, his voice weak and fading.
Conalin closed his eyes. ‘I see a strange land, with purple mountains. The Krayakin are there. They are bewildered.’
‘What . . . else?’
‘I see a woman. She is tall and black and beautiful.’
Nogusta leaned against the boy. ‘I… see her too,’ he said. Kebra ran forward and threw himself down by Nogusta’s side.
‘Don’t you dare die on me!’ he said.