Part V--Götterdämmerung (Battle of the Gods)
In the Dead Plains, bleak and desolate, Good and Evil met in a horrific clash of inconceivable power, and the world trembled under the onslaught. The ley lines realigned from this new epicentre and rang deafeningly with the outrushing energy. The earth around Tollossus and the Nameless One vaporized, and the rays from the resulting crater split the crust for hundreds of miles around. Both gods were thrown back, each stunned by the other's strength, but within moments they were again locked in deadly conflict. The forces surrounding them writhed and intensified. Deep fissures opened, splitting the mantle, straining to gash open the very core of the planet, as earthquakes rumbled across the oceans and continents. Tidal waves flooded the islands and coasts and volcanoes long thought extinct exploded, as the fabric of the world twisted and flexed under the unimaginable inundation of divine power.
Like iron filings to a lodestone, scores of thousands of battle-hardened veterans from the deadly war between Good and Evil were drawn to the battlefield. Snatched from their accustomed places they found themselves arrayed at the sides of their gods, facing in single combat their most hated and despised enemies. The black sky reflected the strobing, actinic lights of magical detonations and echoed with the crash of steel and the screams of the dying. A once-beautiful woman, flesh blackened and bubbling from the full impact of a dragon's fetid breath, still struggled to rise, a pristine sword clutched in her acid-riddled hand and implacable hatred still clearly visible on her ruined face. She screamed out a name, but the sound emerged as a whisper from her swollen throat, one so faint that only keen elven hearing could have discerned it. "Tiger..." The elven General looked around hurriedly, trying to locate who was calling him. At first glance he didn't recognize Mage-Colonel Brittany, despite sixty years of acquaintance--and grudging respect. He knelt beside the broken figure, seeking to help her, but she shook her head and pushed him away. She croaked out, "No time, Tige, and I'm already dead. This--" she wrapped his hand around the hilt of her sword, "is Cador's-Bane. It will kill him--not just dispel or banish, but forever kill the Arch-Devil! His soul will be obliterated--but, Tige, it demands your life in exchange. I tried, but I couldn't get close enough. You're the only sonuvabitch I know who's mean enough and stubborn enough to have a chance, and crazy enough not to count the cost." Tiger Deuce stroked her hair as she tried for her trademark leering grin; she almost managed it before death claimed her. The leader of the Homestead Strike Team rolled his neck, then took up her sword, his face newly alight with a wholly diabolical smile. "I do this for you, Ter...my beloved son."
An old man wandered across the killing field, seemingly oblivious to the carnage and chaos that surrounded him. He muttered under his breath, "M' magic...he stole my magic..." A tiny man dressed in cream-and-brown looked curiously after him, but soon found himself too deep in combat to spare much thought for one demented former Mage...
A towering Paladin swung and swung again, his sword cleaving a swath through the milling throng. His raven circled above his head, watching and screeching dire warnings. Mathias strove to reach the Nameless One, to smite the loathsome enemy, but found his path blocked by a kilted Vampire wielding a claymore, his red eyes burning fiercely, his fangs exposed in the parody of a smile. The two fighters met with a mighty exchange of blow and parry, too well matched for either to claim an easy victory. That scene was repeated hundreds of times across the combat zone, but confrontations between mismatched adversaries occurred thousands of times more often. A motherly little figure, small, plump and blonde, spoke a word of power, and gravity vanished from the area in front of her. Yet even as the squad of barbarian fighters that threatened the sweet-faced mage fell screaming up into the sky, a cleric--a tiny lovely half-elven girl--who had done no more than stop to heal a fallen comrade, was pierced through the heart by a random arrow. No one could even tell which side had fired it...
Tiger Deuce raced through the agonized screams, the raging flames, the flashing blades, the noxious fumes, intent upon his single prey. Cador's Bane glittered in his hand, as hungry as he to spill demon blood, to drain demon life. Cador stood guard beside the Nameless One, protecting his Evil Sovereign from other assailants and casting his vicious spells at the Lord of Good at every opportunity. He laughed with spiteful glee, for Tollossus was weakening. The Nameless One had absorbed three of the Artefacts into himself, and that advantage was becoming more and more apparent as the epic battle continued. It caught the demon by surprise when a streak of agony lanced across his flank. No weapon before had ever touched him...With a howl of rage he whirled to confront the author of his pain. Tiger laughed and thrust out again. Cador eyes blazed with fury as he attempted to cast a lightning bolt at his attacker, but Tiger's sword deflected the shaft of light harmlessly skyward, then stabbed again, opening another wound from which black ichor spurted.
The Nameless One spoke harshly, "Are you incapable of handling a mere mortal, my son? I trained you better than that! Finish him! NOW!"
"Yes, Sire!" Cador gasped, and struck Tiger with his closed fist. Tiger's head jerked back and blood gushed from his mouth. He spat out several teeth and stabbed again, this time burying his blade deeply in Cador's shoulder. Cador howled again, this time as much in surprise as in pain. He affixed his gaze upon the elven ranger and attempted to cast a fireball, but the path of the projectile diverted to strike the tip of Tiger's sword. The blade glowed red for a moment, then the heat dissipated without causing any damage at all. Cador licked his lips nervously, the beginnings of fear flickering in his eyes. Tiger struck again, his blade sinking through the demon's chest, then ripped downward ferociously. As much in agony as in fury, the Demon Prince screamed, seizing hold of Tiger's throat with both clawed hands. Tiger fought desperately, not to loosen Cador's grip but to free Cador's Bane from the malevolent creature's torso. Feeling his own consciousness ebbing away, feeling the foul stench of Cador's breath upon his swollen face, he managed to jerk the blade loose with a convulsive tug. He reversed grip to strike underhanded, and in a last vicious gesture, jabbed deeply into the demon's nave, burying the blade up to the hilt. From within the core of the evil creature's body, Cador's Bane glowed with a blinding blue light, causing both demon and elven ranger to illuminate eerily, their skeletons visible through the mangled flesh, their outlines casting shadows like will-o'-the-wisps for several score of yards. Tiger's scream of triumph blended with Cador's own of utter failure to deafen those nearby. The bodies of both Cador, Demon Prince, and Tiger Deuce, Elven General, crumbled into fine piles of ash, but the magical blade fell, unmarked and untarnished, to the ground.
The wandering, senile old man abruptly froze. He shuddered violently, his eyes widened and then clarity returned to his expression, along with phenomenal intellect. "I remember," he breathed, his words sounding grateful as a prayer, and then, bold and triumphant, his voice rang out, "I remember! The demon thief is dead! My mind and my magic have been restored to me!" Magnificent in his new-found strength he spun to face the Nameless One.
Head thrown back and hair whipping in the gusting winds Magus Fyrinn Dalekin began chanting, softly at first, but then gaining in magical intensity until the verses resounded over the field, even over the horrific noise of battle:
Raziel Mallaithe, in your blackest hour,
With your True Name I bind you, and strip you of power!
Raziel Mallaithe, son of a whore,
Brothel-born vermin, you are nameless no more.
Raziel Mallaithe, who feeds on pain,
With your Name do I bind you, no more will you reign
Raziel Mallaithe, fiend from Hell,
NEVER on Haven will you dwell!
Raziel Mallaithe, your name you erased.
With the Dagger of Kamui, you stole Estoc's place.
Raziel Mallaithe, Asmodeus' spawn,
And Cador's sire, your might is gone!
The formerly Nameless One was enraged. He was forced to break off his battle with Tollossus to confront this dangerous upstart. He glared at the Mage and started his counter-measures to obliterate him, fighting the undeniable power of Fyrinn's binding spells. How dare he? A mere mortal...HOW DARE HE?
Broken and bleeding the mighty Tollossus had fallen to his knees, his colossal chest heaving with exhaustion...and something close to sobs. He was outmatched; he was nearly spent, but Raziel was still strong. The Artefacts...the Artefacts gave him reservoirs of incredible power that Tollossus couldn't match. A gentle god was Tollossus, benevolent, but neither omniscient nor omnipotent. He reproached himself for declining Calabash's offers to teach him the arts of war; he felt anguish at the thought of his beloved disciples crushed beneath the fist of the vicious monster he confronted. The Mage's chant rang in his ears...
Raziel Mallaithe, Asmodeus' spawn,
And Cador's sire, your might is gone!
Tollossus stretched out his hand and Cador's Bane flew to land comfortably in his grip, the greatsword seeming no more than a dagger to the immense deity. Like father, like son...like son, like father? Perhaps...perhaps our only chance, if the Mage fails to bind him... he thought grimly. Slowly he pulled himself to his feet.
It was the briefest of hesitations, the slightest stutter, as the chant rang out, repeating and repeating, forcing the God of Evil into submission. The briefest of hesitations...but that was enough. In that split second Raziel Mallaithe cast a fireball that immolated the old Mage...and Tollossus slammed Cador's Bane all the way to the hilt into the Demon God's brain. The blinding light of a soul destroyed flashed again, but this time magnified to unendurable brightness by the divine power so abruptly released. The heat and glare incinerated all those within half a mile. The ordeal seemed to go on for hours, yet in reality only heartbeats had passed. Next came the scorching air, rushing out from the fireball, flattening every obstacle with gale force winds. The earth shuddered and groaned, for the blast travelled down as well. One fissure plunged through the mantle, splitting it wide and exposing the liquid inner core. The vent released the pressure, twisted the very shape of the planet, and the solid core began to flux and flow. The world of Haven began to crumble...