blood spilled. A thick, black substance seeped from the wide cut but ceased flowing almost immediately. The stench magnified.
It was impossible for Melicard to see what condition his son was in, but the fact that Rennek had uttered no sound, had made no move, made the king’s heart pound with dread. Letting out a war cry, Melicard swung the sword with both hands. He fended off the claws on his left but did not manage to keep those on the right away. A shriek shot through the chamber as the claws ripped at the armor protecting his shoulder.
But now, just as he had planned, Melicard brought the sword back in the opposite direction, catching the monster behind the wing. The sharp blade easily slit through the membrane, then cut a thin slash across the throat.
His demonic foe backed away a step. More of the black substance seeped from the new wound. Melicard noted that the batlike creature found this last cut more dangerous than the first despite seeming no more injured by it than the previous one. The king struggled hard to determine why.
“Melicard!”
Erini’s voice stirred him from what he realized was an unnatural loss of focus. Melicard discovered the fiend about to rake what was left ofhis true face, taking with it his throat. The king reacted instinctively, first using the sword to slice off the oncoming claws and then turning the weapon toward the beast’s neck.
The well-honed blade neatly severed the head from the neck. The disgusting black substance splattered the king, but he refused to be daunted by it. Even despite the monstrous intruder’s having no head, Melicard jammed the sword through the chest for good measure.
The winged form collapsed. From almost the moment it struck the floor, it began to decay. Now at last Melicard was momentarily forced back. Abandoning the sword, which was lodged tight, he covered his mouth and nose and watched as the decay spread even to his weapon, rust swiftly corroding the metal.
Concern for his son sent Melicard leaping past the sickening mass. Rennek remained with his back turned to the door. Past the foot of his bed, the window through which the winged fiend had entered lay shattered. Melicard wondered what power the beast had wielded to nullify Erini’s precautions but decided that that could be discovered later.
“Rennek!” he called. When the child did not stir, the king went down on one knee and put a shaking hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Rennek stirred slightly. Blond locks inherited from his mother obscuring one eye, he sleepily peered at his father, smiled, then fell back asleep.
Erini pushed past Melicard, taking up her son by the shoulders. Behind her came an equally distraught Lynnette. The boy mumbled something to his mother but once more returned to his slumber.
“He’s all right,” Melicard quickly told his wife and daughter, he himself just as relieved to know that. “Though how the lad could sleep through that . . .”
“There was some sort of spell,” Erini replied, still hugging Rennek tight. “I can feel the residue of it . . . I can feel . . . Melicard . . . the foulness of it is awful! It’s . . . it’s like . . .”
He put an arm around her, which at the same time enabled him to touch his son. “I know.”
“The entire room is saturated with it. It feels very ancient!” She glanced past them to where only a continually shrinking mass of congealing matter marked the creature. Soon, all traces would be gone. “And that thing . . . that thing wasn’t alive, not in the sense that we know it . . . it was almost as if something had raised it from the dead . . . but not exactly . . .”
The king understood her confusion, although he was finally beginning to understand . . . understand and grow more filled with dread. Once, there had been a time during his vendetta—just before Erini had come into his life—when Melicard had turned to the darkness for his weapons, his answers. He had