“I should have killed you centuries ago, Focalor.” The paladin’s voice sounded dull and raspy from years of disuse.

“Kill me! I gave up everything I was for you, Aowin. Now I’m trapped on this wretched world. But once I’ve killed you I’ll reclaim my place in hell.”

Focalor’s power blazed around him, a muddy gray haze, not quite the corrupt darkness of a true demon and not the golden light of a mortal sorcerer. The ragged remains of the paladin’s barrier vanished as she drew the energy back into herself and her sword. Both weapon and wielder glowed with pure white light.

If either of them remained aware of Connor they gave no sign. That suited the exhausted warlock. He scrambled back to the doorway and hunkered down to watch the show. He needed time to let his badly depleted soul force regenerate.

Focalor raised his claws and a pillar of gray flames roared down on Aowin. The flames splashed down over her shield. When the torrent subsided she stood unharmed in a circle of charred stone.

“You always start with the same attack.” She shook her head. “Poor, predictable Focalor.”

She raised her sword and Connor expected the white arrows. Focalor blurred and reappeared beside Aowin. He backhanded her hard enough to snap her head aside. He hammered a fist into her stomach, doubling her over.

“Predictable am I?” Focalor raised his hand high for a clubbing blow to her head.

Aowin sped up. Her sword swung in a crossing slash.

Focalor’s hand went flying, spraying black blood all over the white stone. He grasped his stump and snarled.

Aowin sneered as her sword burned the black blood away. “Did I say predictable? I meant pathetic.”

She showed no ill effects from the heavy blows. The great sword went up and power flowed into it. When it reached its highest point Focalor smiled and thrust his dripping wrist at her face.

Mingled blood and flame sprayed into Aowin’s face.

She gagged and staggered back, pawing at her face. Focalor formed a new hand of pure soul force. He drove straightened fingers into her stomach. When he ripped them back they were stained red.

Aowin moaned and held a hand to her stomach. Focalor loomed over her. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Connor studied the paladin. Power flowed to her wound. “Finish her before she heals!”

Focalor looked back at him.

Bad move.

Aowin chose her moment well. She drove her great sword one handed into Focalor’s chest up to the hilt. Purifying light burst from the blade.

Focalor screamed.

He tried to back away from the heavenly blade, but the paladin wouldn’t give him an inch. She poured more power into her weapon. White light burst from cracks in Focalor’s arms and legs. He roared even louder.

Connor gathered his power. It wouldn’t be long now.

Light shot out the demon’s mouth and eyes. A final blinding flash filled the throne room. When Connor’s vision cleared there was no sign of Focalor. Aowin stood panting, her soul force depleted.

Perfect.

Connor conjured a black blade of dense soul force and walked over. “That was impressive.”

She looked up at him and he swung. Aowin’s head hit the ground, eyes wide with shock. Connor smiled down at her.

Now where was the key?

He patted her pockets, but found them empty. Four buckles held the silver mail in place and once he unfastened them he tossed it aside and shook his singed fingers. On a chain around her neck was a small round seal marked with the rune of opening. He yanked it and snapped the chain.

Connor now had everything he needed to claim the crystal.