Death - Frees himself

Death lashed out once with the scythe in his free hand, just enough to make the demons jump back, and then threw all his focus into a single instant’s concentration.
Harvester flowed, becoming a single weapon once more. The scythe in Death’s free hand disappeared; the weapon in his left, pinned beneath the rock, became an ugly, thick-bladed knife.
The demons closed in once more, axes raised high. Straining every muscle, ignoring the searing pain shooting through those already torn and bleeding, the Horseman turned his wrist so that the blade pointed more or less upright, taking a small fraction of the stone’s weight.
Then, at Death’s silent command, Harvester again resumed its natural shape.
The scythe expanded instantly upward and outward, flinging the flaming rock aside. Death rolled, smothering the worst of the flames that had caught across his body, and then, he, too, was upright once more. The Phantom Guards howling on his heels, he bounded forward, limping but still swift.

***

Chapter 17