The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key by Eldon Thompson Page A

breathed, though its lungs needed no air. It moved, provided the muscles and ligaments required to do so had not completely rotted away. Its body may have contained blood, but it sat stagnant in its veins. Since it did not require the functioning of organs, it did not have to feed, and was subject only superficially to the ravages of time. Left alone, an Illychar would live forever.”
    The harsh words resonated from his chest as if from the grave. Torin gripped tighter the Sword’s hilt, reflexively seeking its placating warmth, and saw that Marisha’s hand was clasped firmly about the Stone.
    “But this innate memory worked both ways, making an Illysp-possessed creature as susceptible to injury in death as in life. Even an eviscerated carcass, if pierced by an arrow where a vital organ had once been, might fall over dead. Not due to visible injury, but to what that injury would be if the creature were still alive. It was as though the mind understood—not the physical mind, but that of the deepest body or soul. For even a headless corpse could be resurrected to stumble around again; the same rules applied when the brain wasn’t there. It was all about perception, the primordial sense within.”
    “And the Illysp?” Marisha croaked. “What happened to the Illysp when its body was slain? Could it not simply inhabit another?”
    “No. Once an Illysp selected a coil, it was bound to it, inheriting its weaknesses along with its strengths. Convince an Illychar of its death, and the Illysp within was dispelled and could no longer sustain itself.”
    Torin found it odd that they continued to speak of these creatures in the past tense, as if their threat were far removed. For if that were so, he would not be here listening to this.
    “Then they can be fought,” he said, seeking assurance.
    “They can, and they were,” the gaunt-faced speaker rumbled. “Seizing the carefully preserved bodies of Finlorian dead, they rose up against Sabaoth and his people. With the influence of his Crimson Sword, the high king held them back for a time. But an Illychar was generally swifter and stronger than its host was in life, its physical attributes heightened by its savagery. They sensed pain, but ignored it, and were thus difficult to bring down. Furthermore, it was soon learned that a slain Illychar, while freed forever of one Illysp, could be possessed by another and reanimated again. And again, and again—forever, as long as an Illysp remained to claim it. And the number of Illysp in pure, spirit form was without end.”
    As he went on, the great figure seemed to lose some of his bluster, as if bent with resignation beneath the weight of his own account.
    “Had Sabaoth known how to command the Sword’s full fury, catastrophe might yet have been averted. But he did not, and pressed by the ever-increasing numbers of his parasitic enemy, he was overcome, killed, and possessed himself.”
    The man stared at Torin pointedly, as if the words alone were not enough to impress upon him the horror of this threat.
    “After that, the Illysp spread far and fast across the land of Tritos, as this island continent was named at the time. Many fled across the seas, counting themselves fortunate in that it seemed the Illysp did not care to follow. But many more stayed to fight a violent struggle for dominion of these shores. The Illychar ranks swelled with orcs and goblins, trolls and ogres—no creature was safe.”
    Trolls and ogres. The names resonated clearly in Torin’s mind, shedding grim light on his morning’s encounter with Rogun.
    “The Finlorians were without hope. But at least one group refused to surrender, a warrior sect made up of a handful of those descended from the first mortal wielders of the Swords of Asahiel during the Dragon Wars. It was this sacred company, the Vandari, who had been responsible for the preservation of the blades ever since, and who could not abide that their king and captain—along with one of the