by Phil Tucker
Draumronin didn’t give the demon a chance to unleash its attack. Diving forward, the dragon opened wide its maw and poured out a livid gout of flame that seared the air. Eidolons appeared all around the ur-destraas; in their arms hung Sin Casters and Vothaks, and all of them yelled as they pointed at the demon and cast out vortices of black flame.
Tiron rose in his stirrups. “For the Black Wolves! For Iskra Kyferin! For the Empire!”
The ur-destraas was enveloped in black flame, its own crimson inferno pushed back and hemmed in by the assault. Draumronin’s breath knocked the demon back, drowning it in a deluge of fire, and Tiron saw the demon’s skin begin to bleach and petrify as Kyrra unleashed the full power of her gaze upon it.
“Die!” screamed Tiron. “Die, you whoreson bastard!”
The demon disappeared just before Draumronin speared through the space in which it had hovered. The dragon flared its wings, arresting its flight.
“Did we kill it?” Tiron gazed around the skies. “Where did it go?”
IT SEEKS TO ESCAPE, said Draumronin. LET US DENY IT.
The world disappeared, and they were suddenly above the demonic host, high up amidst wispy clouds. Through them Tiron could see the ur-destraas’ hellish crimson glow.
“Fuck,” Tiron whispered as he sank down onto the saddle. “It survived.” Rage and terror gripped his heart. “It fucking survived!”
Draumronin cut through the clouds, which parted to reveal their prey. The ur-destraas had survived, but it was grievously wounded: its lower half had succumbed to the medusa’s attack and now hung immobile and gray beneath it, dragging it down. Its black hide was hideously burned, revealing massive muscle fibers leaking copious amounts of steaming blood.
Draumronin opened its maw once more as the ur-destraas looked up, and Tiron could have sworn he saw fear in its alien visage; he saw it realize that its end was upon it. It threw up its arms and crossed them in front of its head in anticipation of the attack.
An attack that never came.
“Beware!” shouted the Ascendant, and a smoldering sphere of gold flickered into existence around them a moment before a huge demon would have collided with them from above.
The impact was punishing, and without the Ascendant’s protection, Tiron was sure it would have snapped Draumronin’s spine. They were smashed down out of the sky as if they had been swatted by the kragh’s Sky Father himself, and incandescent fire raged all around the Ascendant’s sphere as they fell. Tiron caught a glimpse of vast arms wrapped around the defensive globe, then a flash of the demon’s face: the second ur-destraas.
Draumronin’s roar was desperate. Tiron hurled his lance up at the demon’s visage, only to see the shaft turn to ash as it emerged from the golden sphere.
They were still plummeting toward the ground. The Ascendant’s wordless yell was joined by the cries of the Virtues and Kethe as they extended their palms toward the demon and poured white fire into the globe, bolstering its strength. A moment later, Tiron heard Tharok’s basso growl, and then a huge column of white light rose from the kragh, flooding the gold and nearly drowning it out, pushing the sphere’s surface ever outward.
They smashed to the ground with bone-jarring force. Tiron was knocked out of his saddle, but he managed to grab hold of the dragon’s spine before he could fall away altogether, wrenching his shoulder as he swung around.
He saw a number of Consecrated fall free, but not to the ground – he realized that they were still in midair. The third ur-destraas had struck them from below, arresting their fall. The Consecrated who fell through the golden sphere were immediately incinerated, their screams cut short.
I CANNOT HOLD, Draumronin roared in Tiron’s mind.
“Do something!” Tiron screamed at the Ascendant, who was hugging the dragon’s spine with both arms, his eyes changed into balls of golden flame. With a grunt, Tiron grabbed one of the crossbows that was lashed to the saddle and pulled it free only to see the bolt fall away into oblivion. He cursed and threw the crossbow at the demon below.
The Ascendant let go of the spine and floated free, rising into the air. He crossed his legs and placed his hands into the symbol of the triangle. Pulses of golden light began to emanate from him, flooding outward to bolster the sphere.
It wouldn’t be enough. Tiron knew how deadly just one ur-destraas could be. Trying to hold off the direct attack of two of them? Impossible. With a wrenching cry, he pulled himself back up onto the saddle.
The shamans were screaming — not in pain, but in supplication. Holding on for dear life, Tiron watched as they raised their hands — several of them were shaken free in the process and fell to their deaths — and poured green fire into the air.
Not an attack. The green fire dissipated as quickly as it emerged from their claws.
One of the ur-destraas shrieked in pain. Tiron leaned over and saw that Kyrra was blasting it with her gaze. Her hair was writhing, forming a serpentine corona that blocked most of the searing light emanating from her eyes. The ur-destraas below them reared back, then smashed its fist through the golden sphere. It grabbed her about the torso and with a cry of victory tore her free of Draumronin’s claws and hurled her into the clouds.
The medusa fell away with a shriek of fury, her serpentine form writhing helplessly until she plunged into a cloud and was gone from view.
The Ascendant, the Virtues, and Tharok were all that were keeping them alive. Draumronin was laying about desperately with claws and flame, but every time a part of the dragon emerged from the tight confines of the sphere, it bellowed in agony.
We’ve lost, thought Tiron.
Demons of every size impacted the outside of the sphere until its exterior was completely smothered. Touching the golden light killed the smaller ones, but more appeared to take their place.
A green glow began to pulse from behind the demons, limning the hellish bodies around them. The shamans crowed out in victory. Tiron could only look on as a great pincer closed around the lower ur-destraas’ body, followed by a mass of tentacles that enshrouded its legs.
The demon flailed at its assailant with its flames, but to no avail; more and more appendages were wrapping around the demon’s body, pulling it away. Only then did Tiron see the rent in the sky from which the attack was coming— it was just like the tear in the fabric of reality that the shamans had opened in the mountains of the kragh, when they had summoned a spirit to kill the remaining shamans.
The ur-destraas turned its full attention toward the tear and began to pour a flood of flame into the crack. Tentacles cindered, claws blackened and shattered, but more demons poured through to take their place. They closed over the sphere where the ur-destraas had been, and it and its titanic battle were hidden from view.
CHAPTER 35
ASHO
The ur-destraas disappeared, and a second later, so did the dragon. Asho was left hovering in midair, gazing at the other Sin Casters and the eidolons in shock.
Power suffused him. The twin spikes he’d driven into his body so he would be able to remain standing were already half-gone; he was burning through their power at a terrifying rate, but while they lasted, they filled him with a delirious sense of invincibility. He felt as if he could torch and decapitate every demon before him — but even in his state of delusional might, he had only to glance around at the constellations of demons surrounding them to know he was doomed.
“Follow the demon!” he cried, drawing a third spike from the quiver at his hip. The eidolons obeyed his demands, and as one they disappeared, taking the Sin Casters and the Vothaks with them.
Asho rammed the third spike into his thigh, punching through the large muscle. He felt its edge scrape alongside the bone and slide free out the underside. The pain was immediately swept away by the tide of power that rushed through him.
Too much. The world blurred, and sounds dimmed. He could feel his very being burning away. Asho laughed, reached for the eidolon that had transported him here, and found it miss
ing.
It was simply gone. Had it abandoned him? Been destroyed?
“No matter,” Asho whispered, turning slowly as thousands of demons closed in on him from every side. “I’ll do this the old-fashioned way.”
With a scream that caused the demons before him to flinch, he flew straight up, palm extended, expelling a torrent of black fire that incinerated everything in his path. Up he speared, flying faster by the moment, the fire within his heart inexhaustible. He could feel the deluge of taint he was sending Kethe’s way and thought of severing it so as to not overwhelm her, but then he carried on.
A blade the size of a wagon appeared above him as an enormous demon teleported into being, swinging down at him with both hands on the hilt. Asho’s reflexes were so finely tuned that he contorted, parrying with impossible speed. The demon’s blade shattered, then it was gone.
Asho caught his balance just as a storm of smaller demons swarmed him, wrapping their arms around his torso, legs, and arms, pulling him down and away. Wherever they touched him, they poured forth flame.
Though the fire was agonizing, it didn’t maim his flesh. Asho screamed and struggled to free his arm, throwing off demons only to have more and more appear around him. They latched on to him and held him tightly, layering themselves over each other until he couldn’t even see the sky.
It would take too long to absorb them all. Fury burst out of him, and with it an explosion of his black fire that torched the demons and sent them spinning in every direction. Those who survived the blast disappeared. Asho knew he didn’t have time to gather his wits; he picked a random direction and flew as fast as he could, screaming as he hacked his way through an endless wall of demons that flickered in and out of existence around him.
Curtains of crimson flame washed over him, and claws scored his frame, but the power from the three spikes kept the damage at bay. On he flew, ever faster, darting around demons who materialized before him, ducking blades and diving through clouds of fire.
Higher and higher, until he saw Draumronin falling. The dragon was immersed in shimmering gold, wrapped in chains of crimson fire. An ur-destraas was clinging to it even as hundreds of demons pressed their attack.
Asho took a deep breath and prepared to launch himself to help, then checked himself. Iskra’s words rang through his mind: Nothing else matters.
The pain it caused him to turn away was nearly crippling. Asho cried out in frustration and horror as he searched the skies.
There! A dozen eidolons had ringed a crippled ur-destraas and were tormenting it with blasts of flame.
Asho’s strength was fading. Frustration boiled up within him, and in a flash he incinerated the gem in his gut, unleashing the mal’orem.
Who dares demand that I…
The mal’orem got no further. Asho immediately absorbed its essence, paying no heed to its shriek of outrage. He overwhelmed its furious defenses as he absorbed its power, bolstering the flagging amounts from the dwindling spikes.
With a scream he hurled himself upwards, blasting his way through the final ranks of demons that appeared before him, and without hesitation he flew right at the ur-destraas. It was ignoring the attacks with its head lowered, its shoulders hunched, and its arms crossed before its face. Was it overwhelmed?
Just before Asho drew close enough to attack, he saw its petrified lower legs glow with an inner light, and then the stone that encased its limbs shattered and fell away.
The ur-destraas screamed in victory as snakes of flame burst from its chest, torching a half-dozen of the eidolons all at once. Asho turned his attack into a desperate dodge, spinning away and under, and came to a complete halt just as a snake of flame cut before him. Gasping, he dove over it, tumbling as he was clipped in the shoulder. A full third of the shafts disappeared as they absorbed the horrendous damage, and then he was hovering in front of the ur-destraas itself.
Raising his blade, Asho yelled his defiance full into the demon’s face — and then froze. His scream died on his lips.
The demon’s ribcage was empty. No one was hanging within its immortal flames.
Zephyr wasn’t there.
CHAPTER 36
Audsley
“Then go, and give those demons a taste of true hell!”
Erenthil’s voice rang out across the meadow, and then they were gone: Draumronin, his riders, Kyrra, the eidolons and their Sin Casters. In a moment, the stonecloud seemed all but deserted.
For a second, Audsley thought he wouldn’t be able to follow them, to force his tightly bound demon to lead him into the thick of the battle. He wanted nothing more than to remain alone beside this tree, in the cool dark, Aedelbert on his shoulder, letting the others bear the burden. To let events take their course without him. But then, before Erenthil could take notice of him, he reached up and took Aedelbert in his hands.
“I’m going to have to go, dear friend.” He scratched Aedelbert behind the ear. “Be patient. Be wise. Let me take all the unnecessary risks, all right?”
“Mmmrhkhao?” Aedelbert said plaintively.
“I can’t promise that. But I’ll do my best. If I can, I’ll return to you. Be brave.”
He set Aedelbert on the ground, took a step back, and turned his attention inward.
Hr’ck Zavash? Ready?
The demon was already bound and transfixed by rays of light. One entered its mouth, ran down its gullet, and pierced its body to emerge from its Black Gate. Others transfixed it from the sides, piercing it repeatedly until it could only shiver in agony. It mewled in the depths of Audsley’s mind.
To Aletheia. Erenthil must sense my teleporting there first. Use my image of the stonecloud. Take us now!
The demon sought to resist, but Audsley caused the spears of light to incandesce, searing the demon’s flesh. As it howled around the beam that filled its throat, it exercised its power and they fell through the world only to appear in the center of a maelstrom.
Demons everywhere. Aletheia plowing a canyon through the land below. Screams, roars, explosions of flame. Eyes gleaming as they turned to regard him, claws flexing, tails whipping. More demons than he could encompass, and he couldn’t see his friends.
Now! To the chamber I’m envisioning!
The demon fought him. It could sense the terror in Audsley’s voice and yearned for even more. It knew that by balking, it might hurt its master.
Hr’ck Zavash, I compel you!
Audsley moved the beams of light an inch apart, causing the demon’s body to stretch and rip. The demon howled once more, and as a phalanx of demons swooped down upon the magister, he fell into darkness…
And appeared in Erenthil’s private chamber, high in the mountains. Audsley staggered, weak-kneed, and nearly fell. Instead, he gripped the window ledge and stared, wide-eyed with shock, out at the glittering peaks. That had been close. A second longer, and he’d have been torn asunder.
Gulping, he straightened. And…nothing happened. No eidolons appeared to tear him apart. Audsley held his breath for a few more seconds, waiting, waiting, hand raised to unleash what would no doubt be a pitiful puff of a fireball at any custodians that might appear, and then relaxed again.
“Thank you, thank you,” he whispered, hurrying to the great codex on its stand.
This was a true gamble, a wager that Erenthil wouldn’t leave valuable servants idle at a moment like this, when everything was on the line. Still, it didn’t stop Audsley’s heart from pounding madly or sweat from coursing down his brow and back. It was too easy to imagine having died moments ago, toasted by a placid eidolon who then flickered away just as quickly as it had arrived.
“No, no. Such is not to be my fate, at least not yet. Not yet.” Audsley hesitated as he stared down at the massive tome. Its cover was made of black leather, its title etched in gold.
Being a Lexicon of Demon Names.
“Oh, Erenthil, won’t you be pleased.” Audsley opened the book and flipped through the first few pages until he found a table of contents
. “Where are you...?” He scanned the list. It was divided by demon ranks, which were in turn subdivided into separate categories: Confirmed, Suspected, Disproven, Lost.
At the bottom of the page was the rank he desired to see: ur-destraas.
“You black-hearted cad,” Audsley said as he flipped carefully to the back of the book. “But with a little luck, your secrets will be revealed.”
The title page of the final section was gorgeously illustrated, depicting a stylized ur-destraas wrapped in serpents of flame, standing in what seemed a literal hell. Audsley shivered and turned the page to find an introduction to the demon’s type. “No time, no time,” he whispered, turning further pages. Finally, he reached the first and most important subcategory: Confirmed.
With but three entries, it was mercifully brief. Audsley skimmed the paragraphs of the first entry, thrilling despite the urgency of the moment at the account of how the ur-destraas had been bound by a cadre of Flame Walkers of legendary power. How it was called from the Black Gate, fought, defeated, and then bound in the depths of Starkadr, the crown jewel of that fallen stonecloud’s demonic arsenal which finally allowed it to rise into the air.
“Come on. Where is it…? Ah. Here. Ghash’la’karn Izmul’drr’ack Offash’sammaz D’sil’varan.” Audsley whispered the name and felt the demon in the depths of his mind shiver in terror.
He closed the book. “You had the name all along. But why not share it?”
He stared blankly at the wall. Giving Asho and the others the demon’s name would have been a huge boon in their fight against it. So why withhold the name? He had to know their forces would be gutted by a full on fight with the ur-destraas. Was he counting on that?
Audsley’s thoughts grew fever-pitched, and then he shook his head to clear it. The only reason he could want their forces to be greatly weakened would be for him to take advantage of our losses. If Asho and the others were able to overcome the demon through brute force, they would be in no condition to resist Erenthil thereafter. And if they failed?