Keys to the Demon Prison (Fablehaven #5)(120)
Seth glanced at the sword. "So what now? Do I have to pass a test?"
"I have waited a long time for the arrival of one worthy to wield Vasilis. Some candidates have been slain by the Standing Dead. The rest were slain by me, after I examined their minds. Your need is just, as are your intentions. Should you fail, Vasilis will have been honorably employed. Should you succeed, the Singing Sisters will serve as suitable guardians. They will certainly never wield it. The sword is yours under one condition."
"What?"
"You use it to dispatch me, then put to rest the Standing Dead."
Seth stared at the pathetic zombie. He had almost forgotten that part of his mission was to rid this area of evil. "But you're nice."
"Many would disagree. I prolonged my life unnaturally. Please remedy this mistake, or I will have to slay you and wait for another. Believe me, Seth, you will be killing me in self-defense. My death is the only way for both of us to get what we need."
"What about the Standing Dead?" Seth asked.
"I created them," Morisant said. "A mindless undead legion, loyal only to me. After my capture, I turned them into effective guardians. It will be a mercy to unmake them. Not to mention, you must keep your promise to the Totem Wall, or you will never escape with your life. Will you do as I ask? Don't lie, I will know."
"I'll do it," Seth said, thinking of Coulter, and of his family.
"Thank you," Morisant said with great relief.
"Do you have any advice? Can you help me? If Zzyzx falls, I'm not sure what to do."
"You're on the proper course, in ways you may not yet understand. I tried to design Zzyzx intelligently. I am glad that Bracken is with you. Try to get word to Agad. He could be useful. Ancient magic bound the demons; ancient magic might save you. Not to minimize the threat. This horde of demons is stronger than any force you could possibly muster. Should the chance arise, give Bracken and Agad my regards. Thank them for me, and please convey that I hold no grudges."
"Is there any trick to the sword?" Seth asked.
"None. Vasilis reflects and reinforces the heart and mind of the wielder. As a young, loyal, courageous, well-intentioned shadow charmer, you should find the sword formidable in your grasp. I see you have a sister. Fairykind. That could prove interesting." Morisant paused as if lost to internal musings.
"You were saying?" Seth prompted.
Morisant snapped out of his stupor. "The sheath rests beside the door. Do not unsheathe the blade more often than necessary. Should you fall, no enemy can claim Vasilis, only a friend. In life, the sword can only be given away voluntarily. A single caution? Vasilis is powerful, and power can have an adverse effect on the heart and mind, which can in turn alter the sword. Many have acquired the sword while walking in the light, only to lose it in darkness."
"I'll do my best," Seth promised.
"Coulter would be proud. Now, Seth Sorenson, I hereby transfer Vasilis into your care, on condition that you release me and my fellow abominations from our necrotic prisons. Take up the sword and keep your promise."
Seth crossed the room to where the sword stuck out of the ground. He could hardly believe he had made it this far. Maybe he really would keep his promise to Coulter! Maybe he would find a way to stop the demons and save his family.
When he grabbed the hilt, warmth flooded through him. The dark blade burst into red flames, and the white radiance became scarlet. The blade came out of the ground easily. The sword felt less like something in his grasp and more like an extension of his arm. His emotions were magnified--his fury at Graulas keener, his sense of purpose clearer, the concern for his family more poignant. The courage he had struggled to find when facing the Standing Dead now seemed to spring from an unending well.
Seth whirled to face Morisant. The undead wizard looked even more wretched by the blazing red light.
"Yes," the wizard said, obviously delighted. "You will be most formidable."
Seth strode forward and raised the sword. He knew what he had to do, yet he hesitated.
"You promised, Seth," the wizard reminded him. "It is a true act of mercy." The wizard raised his voice. "Let it be known that Morisant the Magnificent died in possession of himself! Better late than never."
The pathetic ruin of a man closed his eyes, and Seth brought the sword down with a fiery whoosh. Morisant instantly burst into flames. Within seconds his corrupted flesh had been entirely consumed.
Seth walked out of the room to where the Standing Dead waited in their columns and rows. Was it his imagination, or did Vasilis feel eager in his hands, tugging him forward? As he stalked through the room cutting down the Standing Dead, setting those tinder-dry corpses ablaze, he found himself wondering if he was wielding the sword, or if the sword was wielding him. The weapon felt alive in his hands, seemingly rejoicing at the massacre. Or was he the one rejoicing? Minutes ago, these burning figures had tried to kill him. Now he was mowing through them like the Grim Reaper during a manic phase. Every swing of the sword felt so natural, so perfect, it was as if he were performing some violent, predestined dance. Without screams, without blood, without any evidence of pain, the Standing Dead crumbled to ash around him, until he stood alone, surveying the empty room by the flaming glare of his sword.