This is the third and final chapter of Celestial Wars, sequel to Celestial Matters. If you haven't read all that, then you should scamper off to read those first. You'll be lost if you don't.
For the rest of you, here we are, again.
We've made it to the end. I'd like to take this moment to give my thanks to Lady Ver for editing this story for me. She remains invaluable to me as I write these little tales. Any errors remaining are mine. I'd also like to warn you, gentle reader, that there is only a smattering of true erotica in this story until the final chapter. You've been warned.
Now, off we go once more.
*****
Chapter 13
Preparing
Many things must the righteous beware,
Lest they slip from the path of Prayer.
Fear a trinket that is ever chill,
And fright that makes a heartbeat still.
Fear darkness that flame cannot break,
And men that death cannot take.
But what the righteous should most fear,
Are the evils not always clear...
~Author Unknown
-Jonathan the Courageous-
Half a Millennium Ago
The dark of the young night held itself still as the demon's words echoed softly amongst the trees. Bitter cold air hung close to my skin, causing my flesh to crawl and my hair to stand on end.
The demon's red eyes gazed at me unblinking. They glowed a malevolent scarlet.
I slowly drew Gloria from her scabbard. The heavy armor that I wore clinked loudly as I moved. Its heavy weight was a familiar and comforting presence as I stood before the creature of evil. The demon's mouth twitched up at the corners. He was smiling at me.
I took a deep breath and centered myself. I thought of my goal. I thought of the songs that the bards would sing of me. I would be a legend. I would be the Undying Knight.
"You haven't answered me," the demon said calmly, his voice soft and mesmerizing.
I shook my head. "You are false, demon, for you have not truly answered me. So I pose the question to you again. I wager my soul in a duel for immortality. Do you accept?"
The demon's smile turned down into a frown. "You may think you are being clever," he said, "but if I accept, a ritual will have been completed, and I will have no choice but to take your soul should you lose."
I blinked. What did he mean by no choice? The black book stated plainly that all demons desired souls. The book said that amongst the Dark, the soul of a mortal was a delicacy.
For a brief moment I was unsure. If the book could be wrong about a demon's desire for a soul... perhaps it could be wrong about other things?
The demon twirled his sword in one hand. The blade was so dark... it looked like a piece of midnight.
It was too late now. The demon was summoned; my courage could not falter. "I ask you again, demon. Do you accept my terms?"
The monster that wore the face of a dark-haired youth cocked his head to the side. His ruby eyes looked me up and down once. Then, he shrugged. "So be it, mortal," the demon finally said. "I, Devnikolus the Unmaker, accept the stated terms."
The wind, which had been completely still, began to blow gently. It was as if the very heavens had been holding a baited breath. The frigid air grew even colder, making my eyes water.
The darkness amongst the surrounding trees deepened... and I saw wisps of shadow materialize on the outskirts of the clearing. Every moment or so I caught glimpses of demonic red eyes peering at me from between the branches.
There were more demons here... flitting about the forest.
"Do not fear," Devnikolus said. "They are here to watch. It has been many years since I have been challenged. The demons of my court are merely curious. They shall not interfere."
I nodded once. They were easy to ignore. They did not radiate power like Devnikolus did.
Devnikolus reversed his black sword in his hand so that the tip faced down. Then, he slowly sunk the point of his blade into the earth. "To begin our duel, touch the taper of your blade to the dirt."
I didn't reverse my grip like the demon had. That would leave me out of my guard, vulnerable to attack. Instead, I merely bent my wrist and gently touched Gloria to the ground.
The book had warned about demonic speed, but I hadn't truly believed until I saw the Demon Lord move.
It seemed as if he simply disappeared.
Suddenly, I felt a soft brush of wind tickle my back. I hurriedly dropped to the ground. My armor clanked loudly as I hit the grass.
I felt a rib bruise.
The demon's black sword whistled wickedly over my head through the space my neck had been half a moment before. I rolled quickly away, trying to reestablish space between us. Using the weight of my armor, I tipped backwards and regained my feet.
Devnikolus hadn't moved again. Instead, he stood still, his eyes watching me closely. He held his sword down by his side in a loose grip. "How did you do that?" he asked.
Now it was my turn to smile.
"I ducked."
The demon returned my smile. His flawless, pale face beamed at me with genuine amusement. "Yes," he said, "so you did."
He came at me again with the same blurring speed. I felt the earth shift slightly to my right... and I waited a split second before spinning away from the thrust that I knew would come at my heart.
Searing pain erupted on my shoulder as the demon's blade bit into my flesh.
Stupid,
I thought to myself.
A movement that is fast enough to dodge a man's thrust cannot evade a creature like this demon.
I took several quick steps backward. I put my free hand on my wounded shoulder. There was a rend in my pauldron. The demon's sword had punched through the steel like a crossbow bolt.
The strength that would be required to deal this wound is unimaginable.
Blood welled from my injury and spilled through my fingers. Hot throbbing agony lanced its way from my shoulder down my spine. My vision blurred as I blinked back tears.
I heard soft whispers from the shadows of the trees. The watching demons were discussing my injury.
"You did it again," Devnikolus said as he flicked my blood off his sword. "Once can be dismissed as luck. But twice? I am not the type of man to dismiss such things as coincidence."
I gingerly removed my hand from my shoulder. The bleeding had slowed. I was in no danger of growing weak from blood loss.