An Enchanting Tale

Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty One

The incessant whining of spinning blades, and the clamor of daedric gears, drowned out the fury of bubbling lava. Deadlands was rife with heat, danger, and the war machine's ceaseless advance. Cautiously, S'maash and his group searched for a way inside. Locating a hatch at the rear's top portion, they made for it when it suddenly sprung open. A valkynaz covered in daedric armor hopped out.

"Death to intruders!" he grumbled.

The demon leapt off the machine and engaged the group in battle. As was custom, Zolara and Brelyna started a magickal flurry from the distance. S'maash and S'maath traded glances.

"Would you like me to go first," S'maath asked.

"Fine by me, but don't kill him. I'm going to bind this one for Falion," S'maash replied.

S'maath nodded, and not a second too soon; the valkynaz had closed the distance.

"Come, demon! Show me what you have," S'maath challenged.

The creature only grumbled and swung a daedric, war axe, a malevolent, crescent blade of black and red steel that pulsated with raw power. S'maath, in a wide stance, parried the blow with the tip of his sword. The elf licked his bottom lip as he tried to stare into the eyes of his opponent, who was wearing a full helmet.

The demon pulled with both hands causing the crescent blade of his axe to tug at the sword, but the dark elf shuffled forwards for balance. In reply, the demon thrust his axe into S'maath's chest. The sharp spike at the axe's head penetrated armor only slightly, yet enough for a little blood and pain. The valkynaz laughed.

Frost and lightning slowed the demon, but his brute force was cause for concern. S'maash, in his death-like, bonemold armor, stood with arms crossed, watching the battle. If need be, he was ready to cast healing hands, but for the time, he simply enjoyed watching and learning from his brother's movements, and the valkynaz's attacks.

"Bow before me, weakling," the demon called out.

"You're nothing, scum!"

Mer and demon continued to battle. It was apparent that S'maath was not only holding back for fun, but that the magickal onslaught from the support team was having a devastating effect. Finally, the demon took a knee. He looked up at S'maath, who raised his sword over his head.

"No," S'maash yelled.

He jumped in before his brother vanquished the opposition. With Falion's scroll in hand, he quickly read from the parchment. Upon completion, the scroll caught flame and was reduced to ash. A blue glow enveloped the valkynaz. He keeled over stiff, twitched once, then stood to dust off his armor. He looked down at the elves.

"How may I serve you," he asked, begrudgingly.

"For now, you can take me to the greater sigil stone," S'maash replied.

"Very well."

"Demon, what is your name," S'maash asked when the valkynaz started to walk off.

"Sultar Tuvik."

"Excellent. To the stone then."

Sultar led the group up several spikes protruding from the rear side of the war machine. While the points were sharp, the spikes were smooth at their base and functioned as a ladder up to the hatch from which Sultar Tuvik had sprung. After he dropped inside, the others followed suit.

The interior was not vastly dissimilar from the spires, but hard-looking steel and an orange glow obscured their path. Too many noisy gears churned away. The valkynaz continued to a narrow hallway that ultimately led to five doors; two on either side and one at the front of the enormous, inner carriage. He turned to face his master.