As Orn returned to his body, he had only a brief time to collect himself. Malliphina reached down, fumbling desperately with his belt, her head turned toward her hand. That was his moment. He clenched his gut and launched his forehead up into her cheek, stunning her. That was all he needed to shove her off of him.

Knowledge flooded into his mind. He suddenly understood the principles of summoning demons. From his momentary contact with Everrin’s mind, a flood of knowledge had poured into his own. Unaware precisely how he knew, he just knew, that it took six soul contracts in unison to bring a demon forth into this plane of existence. From this contact, he knew that the smallest nick from Skofnung temporarily disrupts a demon’s ability to phase shift between the two planes, thus blocking its return to its point of summons. Unbidden, all this knowledge came to him instantly.

She rolled away to his right as he regained his feet, swinging the sword Everrin had gifted him. The sword whistled as it sliced through the air. A joyful sound celebrating its freedom, after a millennium buried in a forgotten battlefield in a distant world.

The tip of the sword swished past a mere hair’s breadth from her throat, slicing some of her hair as it did. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, the flow of her hair, the look of shock on her face, the grace of her movements, and the way her hair flowed. He wondered at the misfortune of this beautiful life, snuffed out so callously for this malevolence to steal her body. His mind continued racing, as everything around him had slowed to a crawl. As she regained her feet, he grabbed his shield and closed in on her.

From behind her back, she pulled the sword he had dropped earlier, brandishing it. They began circling each other, throwing faints and touching blades. The two continued thus for several minutes, yet to Orn, it seemed much longer. Back and forth they fenced, teasing out and testing one another’s defences in a graceful dance of death. The occasional contact between their swords erupted in blue sparks and a sharp ringing that sounded almost musical in its clarity.

Seeing an opening, Malliphina lunged forward, stabbing toward his exposed midriff, which he swatted away with a slight flex of his left wrist, turning his shield inward. Orn retaliated with an overhead chop, which she deflected by sweeping her sword to her left in an upward sweeping arc. In response, he took the blow to his sword, bent his arm, jabbed toward her head with his right elbow, which she ducked and leant over to his right.

He felt a momentary sense of elation as he followed his elbow by extending his arm into a backhanded slash. The tip of his blade scored a deep gash into her back, eliciting an inhuman screech as she stumbled forward several steps, falling onto her hands and knees. She looked back over her shoulder from the ground. Her expression showed her pain and fear, as the consecrated blade had opened the flesh that contained her presence.

She attempted to surround herself with the dark mist, but it wouldn’t coalesce. The expression changed from fear to abject panic. He stalked towards her, hefting his sword, getting a feel for its balance. In desperation, she held the sword in front of her as she scrambled to her feet.

The wounding sealed her powers for a short time, thus breaking her hold over the people she had enthralled. The citizens that woke up looked around themselves, some looking about themselves in confusion. Yet others screamed in anguish at the blood of people who they had slaughtered staining their hands.

Her face changed from panic to pleading. “You don’t have to do this. Please, stop. I can make you happy! I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll be yours always! Don’t do this… Master.”

If the corpse she was occupying was still living, she would have shed tears, but alas, it was a corpse. He felt a slight pang of guilt as he stalked steadily toward her. “I am sorry, but this is how it must be. You didn’t belong here, and yet you came. You could have gone back to where you belong, or you could have refused to cause harm, but you did not. Know that what I am about to do brings me no joy, nor triumph, only emptiness.”

Her face became anguished and her voice shrank, as she began sobbing while shaking her head in a desperate plea for mercy. “Please, Master, don’t do this to me.”

Orn hesitated, as sympathy for this poor creature welled up in his chest, and his sword and shield began lowering. He felt a haze slowly filtering over his mind. His shield dropped to the ground, and he shook his head. He came to his senses just in time to turn his shoulders, narrowly avoiding Malliphina’s sword thrust directed at his throat. Taking several steps back, he focused on the air between his left thumb and forefinger, sliding the air particles past each other in opposing circles. The friction created caused the very air in that small space to erupt into a blue flame. He dragged his blade through the space between his fingers, transferring the flame onto his sword.

Malliphina’s eyes widened, her face taking on a look of abject terror at the sight of the blade on fire that had caused her such agony without it. She stood still, trapped between the conflicting need to flee or attack. Her face switched to anger and hatred as she finally decided on trying to end the threat once and for all. She held her sword ready, peeled her lips back, and unleashed a feral scream as she charged at Orn.

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As the former priestess’ body, occupied by the demoness Malliphina, charged toward him, he inhaled calmly and parried her blade with a slight flick to the side, and plunged his blade straight through her chest. The momentum of her charge forced her into his arms as the sword passed through her chest. Her mouth was agape, as her empty sockets turned up to him, a look of disbelief. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Instead, smoke began billowing out of her mouth, nose, ears, and eye sockets. He had to dash back and push her off him.

She looked around in desperation as the flames consumed the soul essence of her being. Her body began smouldering as flames shot out of her eyes. The demon opened her mouth to scream, but instead of sound, blue flames spewed forth. Soon her whole body was an inferno as all the souls she had consumed over eons burned, along with the very essence of her being. With one last flare, the once priestess’ body turned to powdery ash, carried off by a breeze. Malliphina was no more.

Orn fell to his knees, the sword tumbling from his grip. He stared at his hands and began weeping. All the tension, the fear and the tragedy flooded out of him as though his tears were flushing the taint of these weeks through his eyes. It was at that moment Briga arrived. Seeing Orn, she raced over to him, falling to her knees before him, and wrapping him in her arms.

She pulled back from him after a few moments. “Are you hurt? What happened? Where is the demon?”

He glanced up at her through his tears, but he could not articulate his thoughts into words, overwhelmed as he was. Instead, he shook his head as the tears flowed from his eyes. She pulled him back into her embrace. “It will be all right, my love. It will be all right.”

While she held him, Orn’s family had arrived. His mother raced to them when she saw them on their knees. “What happened? Orn, are you all right?”

Briga turned to Venna. “He is unharmed, but we should get him out of here.”

Erik and Vylder knelt on either side of him, raising him up to his feet, and helped him to walk back to the senate building. Venna saw the now extinguished sword on the ground and stretched her hand out to pick it up.

Briga’s face filled with panic as she watched Venna reach for the sword. “Wait!”

“What? What is it?”

“Careful. That sword may not be safe. It is not of this world. Allow me.” She crouched over the handle and tentatively touched her fingertips to it. It felt warm to her touch, but otherwise unremarkable. “It’s all right.” Briga picked up the sword and passed it to Venna with reverence.

“Whose sword is this? I have never seen its like.”

“It comes from my father’s old world. It is a living blade that contains the twelve souls of a king’s personal guard. A king who lived long ago in a world beyond the stars. He must have given it to Orn.”

“I shall have to have a talk with him about how to show proper regard for gifts and the people who give them.”

Briga voiced the delightful musical sound of her laughter. “Let it lie, Mother dear. He is a little preoccupied. I think he can be forgiven… just this once.” Venna joined in laughing, and arm in arm, Goddess and warrior followed behind the men of their strange family.

Orn had finally regained his composure and was walking on his own. He turned to his father with a questioning look. “Has anyone tried to figure out where that Scipio fellow went?”

“They believe he fled to his estate. But there is no guarantee that he is still there.”

“We should check anyway. Erik? You up for a ride in the Nevan countryside?”

Erik was about to respond when Vylder turned Orn by his shoulders to face him. “Wait a minute. If we go, we all go together.”

“Oh, my sword!” Orn turned to race back to the scene of his duel, only to see his mother and betrothed, arm in arm, laughing together. His mother arched her right brow. “Did you lose something, son?”

Orn looked sheepish. “Thank you, Mother. I love you.”

She smiled as she shook her head and passed his sword to him. “You shall need a scabbard for your sword, son.”

Briga cleared her throat. “Actually, he does not need a scabbard. Orn, focus on the sword and in your mind see the sword becoming one with you. The sword should merge with you and be ready to wield when you will it into your hand.”

He did as she instructed and the sword seemed to absorb into his arm. Both he and his mother gasped at the unsettling sight they had just beheld.

Venna broke the silence first. “Well, that was certainly not something you see every day.”

Orn, still staring at his arm in bewilderment, finally managed a single utterance. “Huh.”

The three of them caught up with Vylder and Erik and headed to the giant building at the end of the largest street in the largest city of the empire. Once they reached it, Orn signalled to Thayn.

The prince jogged over, his face showing a subdued elation. “I can only guess that your meeting went pretty much as intended, what with the dispersal of the unruly crowd that was gathering.”

In response to the prince’s quip, Orn cocked his head to one side with a sardonic smile on his face before turning serious. “The one responsible for the crowd is dead. We need horses, though. I want to check the home of this Scipio person. He was behind all this. We also need to figure out the five others that were involved in summoning the demon. I have recently learnt that it takes six. We know Scipio is one, because when he disappeared, the demon showed up.”

“Well, I am certain the knights won’t mind us borrowing their horses.”

Marius had approached the gradually increasing gathering. “No need. We have a full stable of messenger horses at your disposal. They will get you there a lot faster. We breed them for speed.”

Thayn smiled at the man he was becoming fast friends with. “Well, that is most kind of Your Worship. We will take you up on that. Lead the way, good sir, and by all means, join us if you will.”