The Last Book Of Swords : Shieldbreaker’s Story by Saberhagen Fred Page B

Mark. Still worse even than a triumphant Mark.
           Orcus of old legend, the equal at least of Arridu in strength, peerless even among demons in sheer malignity, and somehow now rendered immune to Sightblinder’s control…
           But in the next moment the figure was transformed again, and the Dark King beheld Ardneh himself, a body looking squarish and half-mechanical, ancient and utterly terrible to demons; the implacable enemy as well of wizards who preferred demons to humanity.
           And yet again, repeatedly, Vilkata’s perception of the figure changed. Flickering in rapid succession, there came an image, more an intimation, of Vilkata’s own archrival in evil magic, Wood—then he was certain he was seeing Wood, pretending to be Orcus. Then vice-versa.
           And now once more he beheld Prince Mark, fully armed with the Sword of Force, immune to any influence Skulltwister could exert. …
           Whipsawed by these various possibilities, the Dark King was left in a state of terror beyond thought, worse than what could have been evoked by any single, simple presence. His instinctive reaction was to pull a trigger of enchantment, to activate a long-prepared reflex of flight.
           He knew that his Enemy, whatever mask It wore, whatever powers It wielded, was One. Certainly someone, a single being, had slipped inside Vilkata’s ring of ferocious demonic bodyguards, had confused and blinded them, neutralized them, with such ease and strength that they might as well not have been there at all.
     
    * * *
     
           And in these moments of Vilkata’s freezing terror, the young Prince approaching, his deliberate strides now bringing him almost within Sword’s-length of his foe, his own perception now feverishly enhanced by holding Sightblinder, was able to do more than recognize with absolute certainty his father’s great and almost lifelong enemy the Dark King.
           Now Stephen found himself empowered, even compelled, to study the man, in the most chilling and disgusting detail.
           The face strongly featured, except for the ghastly empty eyesockets—a face looking neither young nor old—the clothing, rather nondescript for a great king and wizard—the pallid, powerful body.
           With a feeling of unutterable loathing, the young Prince stepped forward and willed to strike with the Sword in his right hand.
           And, at the same time, the thought existing simultaneously, Stephen consciously reminded himself that he must be ready to try to rid himself of Shieldbreaker on short notice, should his enemy at the last instant be unarmed. Then he, Stephen, would have to use the weapon in his other hand instead; use Sightblinder as a simple piece of sharpened, weighty steel, a physical killing device like any other sword. The Swords were all of them, save Woundhealer, effective in that simple deadly way.
     
    * * *
     
           And Vilkata in that same instant, overwhelmed by a mind-bending agony of fear, instinctively raised his own weapon, and at the same time willed with all his soul his magical escape. …
     
    * * *
     
           The man’s body was almost completely dematerialized in flight before metal clashed on metal and one phase of the gods’ great magic broke against another.
           In the almost instantaneous surge of combat, the Sword of Force responded at once to the movement of Vilkata’s Sword, and simultaneously to Stephen’s will to kill. There was a jar of opposition, an instant of overwhelming violence—the Mindsword was blasted into splinters.
           A stunning explosion accompanied the clash, an echo in the ears of Stephen of the recent blast in which Dragonslicer had perished. This latest detonation stung at Karel’s helpless, fallen body, and wounded more than one of the converted people who happened to be standing near. The demons nearby too felt pain from the passage of those smoking