“Gods have mercy on us all,” he said on a thin breath, his gaze rising up and up as the awakened demon grew in size until it brushed the ceiling, a colossus made up of every foul and sharp thing that had plagued humanity from the dawn of time. It left an oily smear where it scraped the ceiling, a smear that soon drooled toward the floor in dull black droplets of some foul ichor.
Gharek instinctively ducked and covered his head, shuddering at the anticipation of being splashed on. Zaredis did the same. The oozing black rain fell but never struck them, stopped by the wedge’s invisible barrier. Rurian’s ward had a roof.
“I’ve seen horrors of the battlefield,” Zaredis said, his voice stricken as he straightened and gazed at the demon with wide eyes. “But not this. Never this.”
Gharek too had seen the brutality and hard death of a battlefield but this demon surpassed any nightmare memory of the worst atrocities committed on the field. This thing defined atrocity.
As if insulted by the general’s remark, the demon hurled itself at them, only to bounce back with a frustrated scream. It did it over and over again, rabid in its efforts to reach prey.
Rurian had finished his invocation. “Now, my lord!” He had to shout above the cacophony. “Take the Windcry so we may escape this place!”
Zaredis jogged to the table and snatched up the fragile artifact. He held it like an infant in his arms and raced back to where Rurian and Gharek waited. Intent on not dropping his prize and triumphant over claiming it, he made a careless misstep and jogged too close to the weak part of Rurian’s ward.
“Too close!” Gharek bellowed a warning.
Too late.
The demon, seeing an opportunity, slammed into that side of the wedge with all its formidable might. The ward held, barely, but the force of the impact made Zaredis fall. He had the presence of mind to pitch the Windcry to the man closest to him, and Gharek caught it just as the general went down, the tip of his left foot sliding outside of the wedge’s protection.
The general’s terrified howl matched the demon’s victorious shriek as skeletal fingers made of shadow and stronger than steel grasped Zaredis’s boot, prepared to yank him fully across the ward line. Gharek was certain he was about to witness the thing paint the walls red with Zaredis’s blood and entrails.
Rurian leapt toward his liege, using all his strength to hold him inside the wedge.
In that moment time slowed to a crawl, and the cat’s-paw’s thoughts raced far ahead of it. The demon’s gnarled fingers wrapping around the general’s foot. Zaredis bellowing for help as he tried to squirm back across the ward’s protective line. Rurian’s desperate expression as he wrapped his arms around his lord’s shoulders and held on, the cords in his neck rigid with the effort. AllGharek had to do was toss the Windcry aside and sprint for the door and freedom while the demon did away with his biggest problem. Rurian wouldn’t stop him, too busy trying to save Zaredis, and he couldn’t drop the ward that protected them all and provided clear passage to the door. By the time the mage lost any hope of saving the general and chased after him, Gharek would be long gone. He’d be free of Zaredis’s threat, and with Estred no longer a hostage, he’d find her and Siora, rescue them, and disappear into the hinterlands beyond the Empire’s reach.
Those considerations were lightning flashes in his mind, swift and bright, as he watched the barbarian mage struggle to keep his lord from becoming demon food.I know nothing of nobility, he’d told Siora.
Her gaze, once so condemning, had rested on him, soft with compassion and a spark of something that had robbed him of breath: admiration.But everything of devotion, she’d said.Your love for Estred should inspire you to be a better man, not a worse one.
Beggar maid of untapped power and an ear for the dead. He’d sought and found comfort in her arms and wisdom in her words. She was right. Love, especially that of a parent for a child, should fuel courage instead of ruthlessness.
“Fuck,” he growled and set the Windcry down. “I’m going to regret this.”
Rurian called out spells that kept Zaredis still inside the ward but had no impact on the demon itself. Gharek was a cat’s-paw, not a mage. He couldn’t cast a spell, but he was good with a blade. He grabbed the sword Zaredis had dropped when he fell, prayed to any useless god listening for mercy, and stepped outside the wedge enough to bring the sword down on the demon’s handgripping the general’s foot. The blade sliced through both with ease. Zaredis screamed as did the demon, one in agony, the other in fury.
Rurian snapped Zaredis back across the ward’s barrier, leaving a red smear where the man’s foot bled into the stones. Gharek darted back across the ward, narrowly avoiding a clawed swipe from the enraged demon that would have disemboweled him on the spot.
Heart thundering in his chest and his ears, he abandoned the sword to scoop up the Windcry and assist Rurian in helping Zaredis stand. “We have to get out of here,” he said. “Half of Domora has heard the demon’s shrieking. A pack of guards will be down here in no time.”
Rurian nodded. “Hold him up.” He abandoned the two for a moment to retrieve the sword Gharek had dropped. The general was pale, shivering. Gharek didn’t think he’d bleed to death, but he was in danger of passing out.
“You cut off my toes, cat’s-paw,” he accused in a faintly slurred voice.
“Be glad it wasn’t your head, general.” Gharek stumbled a little as Zaredis swayed hard against him.
Rurian returned to share the burden. He held Zaredis’s sword in his free hand.
“I hope you know how to use that,” Gharek said. “Because your master can’t at the moment.” He had to shout to be heard, the demon’s fury so loud, he was nearly deafened by the noise.
“The door,” Rurian shouted back. “Just get through the door. We’ll worry about the rest later.”
To Gharek’s amazement they managed to escape the chamberwith their skins still attached, and the Windcry unbroken and in their possession, though Zaredis had left his toes behind with the demon.
A touch of color had returned to the injured man’s skin, though sweat poured down his face, and he clenched his jaw with every limp into the corridor. Despite the pain and the bloody wound that was once his toes, he was focused solely on the artifact. “The Windcry,” he said between gritted teeth. “Where is it?”
Gharek held it up. “Never let it be said you’re easily distracted from your goals.”
Zaredis offered him a weak smile. “But they aren’t your priorities.” The smile fell away. “I release you from your obligation.” Gharek inhaled sharply. “Consider my clemency a debt repaid for you saving my life. Now save your woman and daughter.”