Chapter Twenty-Seven
Another Mend Flesh flowed into Halia. She groaned as the last of the pain from her father's attack vanished. Leo held out a weary hand to her. She took it and he hauled her to her feet, her blessed sword lying on the ground.
Leo groaned. He stood naked before her, his protective spells banished. Isatu paced the room. It was too small for her. The throne room was huge, but not big enough for a dragoness. Halia bent down and picked up her father's sword.
Tears stung her eyes.
"What did your father become?" asked Leo. "He said he was a saint? A returned hero? Is that a thing?"
Halia tried to speak, but emotion choked her voice.
"It is not," said Fara. The elf stepped into the throne room. She held her journal in one hand, her phoenix quill in the other. "I know not how he occurred. Spirits do not return. No such event has ever been recorded in the annals of the Great Library of Lyrialiasa. Further, he had been imbued with darkness. That blood that was spurting out of him was power being fed into him by the Lord and Lady of Darkness themselves. They have declared war on you."
"He wanted to kill me, too," Halia whispered, shaking.
Then Leo's arms were around her. She closed her eyes and melted into him. She hugged him back, her body trembling. It was all so much. She had wanted to walk in her father's footsteps. To be as mighty a hero as him. They had come from a long line of heroes who wielded her blessed blade. Men and women who had fought the dungeon builders.
And what had she done? Fallen in love with a dungeon builder.
A good man. I love a good man. Not a monster. Not
Fuegin
or one of the other foul things. Leo will change this world if he's given a chance. It can end. All this pain and suffering.
Her goddess agreed. Lady Sherida had blessed Halia.
But the Gods of Darkness had other ideas.
"Was that even your father?" Leo asked.
The words startled her. She pulled from his embrace to stare him in the eyes. "It had his appearance."
"And? What sort of man was your father?"
A smile spread on Halia's lips. "The greatest of men. A loving and patient father. A devoted husband. He hated leaving us, but he did it to protect us and the world. He was the best of men, Leo."
"So was that him?"
Halia considered his words. "No. Not the father I knew. That was... a shadow."
Leo held her tight again. She closed her eyes as she savored his strength about her. Her hands stroked his back. Her head rested on his shoulder. The dungeon felt so empty. All the monster girls were gone. Only four individuals stood in his dungeon.
Halia couldn't remember when so few had survived.
"We are going to have to find a way to hurt him," Leo said, pulling away from her. "He's fast and can take wounds."
"My mouth almost killed him, Lord Leo," growled Isatu. Despite how her voice rumbled at such deep registries, she still had a feminine cast to her words.
"Unless I find another Mana Vein, I won't get to use you again like this," Leo said. "We need something else.
"Death magic, maybe," Fara said.
"What?" Leo snapped his gaze to the elf.
"If he's been returned to life, then maybe death magic is more effective. And we have the Blessed Blade of Light. Anguin's own weapon. It is interesting that he was returned by the opposite of what he served."
"This is the Blessed Blade of Light?" gasped Halia. She touched the hilt of her sword.
The elf blinked her large, violet eyes. "You did not know? But you are Anguin's daughter. He was the wielder of that blade, and when he died, it appeared in your hands."
"Yes," Halia said. She swallowed. "I didn't know. My father died before he could train me."
"There were once twelve blessed blades," Fara said. "As far as I know, yours is the only one that remains. The others were lost when the heroes who wielded them perished and their bloodlines went extinct. The blades can only be recalled to the direct descendant of the last wielder. A son or daughter. A line of firstborn heirs stretching back to those first twelve gifted the blades to stand against the first dungeon builder."
"Okay," Leo said. "That's something. Any way we can keep him from being recalled when he gets his ass kicked?"
Fara frowned. "I don't know. But your Strobe spell definitely distracted him. He could parry your Dazzling Sword, but it did hurt him when you sacrificed Paanee."
Leo shifted his shoulders and looked down at his feet. Halia could feel the shame radiating off him.
"Didn't kill him."
"You failed to cut him in half." Fara glanced at Halia. "I suspect the Blessed Blade is the key. The weapon forged by the Lord and Lady of Light thrust against the soul returned from death by the Lord and Lady of Darkness."
"So I have to kill my own father?" Halia swallowed. She had a hard time fighting him. He disarmed her too easily. The disappointment on his face had so shaken her, he had nearly killed her. "I'm not sure I can."
Leo cupped her face. "I understand."
He kissed her. She closed her eyes. It was a comforting and loving kiss. He wasn't disappointed in her that she couldn't fight her father. He had been twisted into something repugnant. She had to find the courage to free him. There was no other way, was there? She had to be strong. She had to overcome her emotions and thrust her sword into his guts.
For Leo. For her family here.
She broke the kiss, not sure if she could find that strength.
Leo stroked her cheek for one more moment and then turned to Fara. "How do I get death magic? I'll have to kill a dungeon builder with it." Leo swallowed. "And we don't even know that it will help."
"My father had Death," Isatu said, her voice a deep rumble.
"Your father?" Leo asked. He turned to her. "Who is your father?"
"Meskalamdug." Isatu sat on her hunches. "He tamed my mother, Girru, a mighty fire dragoness. They made me before they died. Mother used to tell me all about Father while I was in my egg. How he had come to this world from another, how he had been given the power of Death by the Soul of the Word. And how he was looking for the Word. The one who had brought him here."
