Page 47 of Gladiator Moon

“Wizard,” I say to Azul.

“Yes, Samantha?”

“Can you do magic again?”

Azul looks up at me, frowning. He lifts both hands experimentally, then grins. “Indeed! We are outside the nullification field. What would you have me do?”

“Anything useful.”

I look down. The demons look up. One points at me. Another hisses. Then several leap upward, propelled by powerful legs.

“Hurry, Azul!”

With gravity now close to normal, I flare my wings, slowing our descent. I hover just above the leaping demon’s reach.

The first flying demon reaches me. As it swings a massive curved blade up at me, I kick off from the pit’s rocky shaft and lift my legs in time to keep my feet from getting lopped off. My ice sword shoots downward, knocking his scimitar aside. Then I pivot and plant a boot squarely in its chest. The demon flies backward and crashes into two others while I flap up another few feet.

Another demon lunges at us. I fly up just enough to clear its clawed grasp, then bring down the pommel of my ice sword into its thick forehead. I am met with a satisfying sound of China dishes crashing. It collapses, unconscious or dead.

Three more rush me, jumping and flying.

“Azul!” I shout up at the wizard hanging onto my shoulder. “I need some magic. Now!”

Azul lifts a hand and directs it down. Blue sparks dance between his fingertips. The stone floor beneath the demons suddenly becomes slick. Two lose their footing, one falling flat on his back. Others crash into each other.

Another demon comes at me, claws extended. I slash, neatly cutting off all of its claws. It yelps and looks affronted. Black smoke pours from its fingertips.

Meanwhile, the shaft’s exit is filling up with more horned figures. Way too many for me and my ice sword, even with the help of my Temu wizard. Slippery floors aren’t going to cut it.

I dive for the arched exit, parrying sword and spears and claws, until we dive outside.

“Where’s the armory, Azul?”

“That door there!”

He points to a heavy wooden door. I aim for it, flapping my wings hard, leaving the confused demons scrabbling over each other in their effort to get their bearings. The door is indeed heavy-looking, made of dark wood held together with iron bands.

A demon flying on massive, leathery wings bears down on me as I near the door. No going around it or over it. It thrusts an iron spear at my chest. The bastard is playing for keeps and, unlike the palace guards, doesn’t seem to care as much for the safety of the young prince. Still, I keep the kid protected by parrying the spears, and kicking the face of the ugly thing. I send it wheeling sideways and skidding to stop on its horned forehead.

Next, purple light explodes from Azul’s fingertips. Several of the closest demons suddenly find their boots fused to the stone slabs.

At the armory door, I try the handle. Locked. Wouldn’t you know it?

Behind me, the demons regroup and charge. Pickles, still on my back, yelps. Azul slides off my shoulder and stumbles over to the door. He taps the lock with one long, E.T.-like finger. It even glows crimson. A moment later, the lock clicks open. Azul smiles, turns the handle, and shoulders his way inside. The prince and I follow immediately behind. I turn, slam the door shut, and throw the thick bolt home just as the roaring horde reaches us. They crash into the other side with enough force to shake the door in its frame and send a shudder through the surrounding wall.

Then I turn and face the armory. And stop cold. Because mounted upon the far wall, surrounded by dozens of ordinary-looking swords, axes, spears, and shields, is a weapon I recognize immediately. Its hilt, its guard, its proportions, its very essence screams: Devil Killer.

I smile.

Chapter Nineteen

I approach the Devil Killer slowly out of an abundance of respect and caution, and maybe some nerves, too.

The sword seems almost alive, resting there upon the wall. The metal is deep black, like the sword back home, so black it might have been forged from the devil’s own heart. Strange symbols crawl along the blade’s surface, moving just enough to convince me they aren’t engravings at all. What they are or what they mean, I have no idea. The sword back home has no such markings.

To think this thing has just been lying dormant down here is astonishing. Had the Dark One and his demons truly been unaware of the complete and total destruction such a sword could wreak upon them? If so, it suggests the weapon has likely never been used. But still, something about that doesn’t quite add up. Why keep such a weapon anywhere near the very creatures it was created to destroy?

In my world, only the Devil Killer can send demons and even the Devil himself back to the Origin. Such creatures obviously have little fear of hell, so eternal punishment seems rather pointless. Apparently, it is better to remove them from existence altogether and let the Origin sort them out.