The Paladin dangled from the harness straps, twisting to avoid the terrible blows. He could not release his grip. If he were to fall backward, the weight of his armor would not let him rise again and he would be trampled to death. He groped blindly for his assailant, finding at last the weapons harness the demon wore strapped about his waist.
His fingers closed on the handle of a four-edge dirk. He wrenched the weapon free and buried it in the Mark’s knee where the jointed metal armor gaped open. The Mark shuddered, and the battle axe dropped from his nerveless fingers. The Paladin grappled with the demon, trying to yank him off balance, seeking to pull him clear of the harness seat. The wolf-serpent wheeled wildly, hissing with rage as he felt his rider slipping. The Mark clung desperately to the reins and harness straps, kicking out at the Paladin. Kneeling pads and armrests shattered like deadwood as the combatants careened through the center of the Heart, and howls rose from the demons caught within.
Then abruptly the Paladin jerked the four-edged dirk from the Mark’s armored knee and jammed it downward into the wolf-serpent’s shoulder where it joined the scaled body. The monster reared and bolted, throwing both knight and demon to the ground in a crash of armor.
The Paladin landed on hands and knees, fighting to keep his balance. Dizziness washed through him. The Mark sprawled a dozen feet away, but he lurched unsteadily to his feet despite the massive weight of his armor. Both hands reached down to a giant broadsword sheathed at his waist.
The Paladin heaved himself upright then and freed his own broadsword just as the Mark reached him. Sword blades hammered into each other in a frightening clash of metal, the sound ringing out against the sudden stillness. The Paladin was thrust back by the heavier form of the Mark, yet kept his feet. Again they lunged and again the swords hammered down. Back and forth across the Heart the combatants staggered as the broadswords rose and fell in the half light.
The Paladin experienced a sudden, unfamiliar sensation. He was losing this battle.
Then the Mark feinted and reversed the swing of his broadsword so that it cut downward in a sweeping motion toward the Paladin’s feet. It was a glancing blow that careened off the tarnished armor, yet it caught the knight by surprise and knocked him sideways. He went down heavily and his weapon spun out of reach. The Mark was atop him at once. The demon’s giant broadsword arced downward, and the blade caught and lodged in the Paladin’s shoulder plates, wedged between the joints. Had the Mark released the sword, it would have been the end of the Paladin. But the demon clung fast to the weapon, struggling to free it, refusing to let go. It gave the Paladin one last chance. Desperately he groped his way up the demon’s armored body, grappling for the weapons harness once more.
His fingers closed about the haft of the iron-headed mace.
The Paladin reared up, one hand clinging to the Mark’s armored body, the other bringing up the mace. The ridged crown crashed into the helmeted death’s head and the Mark shuddered. The Paladin swung the weapon upward a second time, the whole of his strength behind the blow. The visor split wide, and the face within was a nightmare of blood and twisted features. Silver light flared from the body of the Paladin. Once more the mace rose and fell, and the demon’s head disintegrated.
The Iron Mark tumbled to the earth, a shapeless mass of black metal. The Paladin rose slowly and stepped away. A stillness shrouded the Heart, a mantle of hushed silence that was its own terrifying sound. Then the wind rose with a howl, the thunder reverberated through the forest earth, the air swirled black with shadows and gloom, and the gateway to Abaddon opened suddenly about the demons. Howling and crying, they disappeared back into the netherworld.
The clearing stood empty once more. Gloom and shadows dissipated. The dawn’s new light fell across the Paladin as he climbed back astride his charger. The light gleamed on armor that was no longer tarnished or worn, but like new. The light flared, reflecting momentarily from the knight to the medallion worn by Landover’s King as he stood alone at the forefront of the dais.
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