Spirit Past (Book 8)

by Jeff Inlo

  His keen vision fixed on certain movements, and he immediately realized the gray soot was not natural. It did not move as ordinary smoke; did not rise up and slowly dissipate into the cooler air above. Instead, the dark swirls remained intact and even churned in circular patterns that defied all logic. The motion was almost hypnotizing, but Ryson soon started to make out distinct shapes.

  As he began to discern one form from another, the delver isolated individual darowks from within the swirling mass. He could not compare them to any animal he had ever seen for they had no solid form, but each individual creature was no larger than an ordinary rat. They rushed about in frenzied circles, but they had no legs on which to run or wings to soar. Instead, they dashed about the flames, their movements powered by nothing more than a force of will. Together, they appeared like one massive school of agitated fish, darting to the left and then the right as if hoping to avoid some large predator.

  Even as the demons continued their mad dance around the fireball, Ryson knew they were not within Uton's realm of existence. A thin, blurring film rotated around the flames in direct coordination with the movements of the wispy creatures. It was not a strong barrier by any means, but Ryson could not discount its existence. It was almost like a twisting soap bubble that refused to pop, and it contained the entire mass of swirling smoke.

  Ryson could not help but wonder what might happen if the barrier broke. He knew the darowks would no longer contain themselves to the hot winds around the fireball. He imagined the scene of them descending upon the city in one massive wave. He knew enough about the darowks to realize that such an invasion would bring far more than a drifting shadow to Connel. It would invite choking death to all of its people.

  Determined to keep the hazy demons at bay, Ryson refocused on his main goal. He was not completely certain why the infern needed to be guarded, but he understood that the death of a half-demon would enrage the demon sprites. Hoping to reach the infern as quickly as possible, he sprinted toward the flames shooting up from the crossroads ahead of him. With bounding leaps, he jumped from one rooftop to another and quickly reached his destination.

  Looking down upon the street leading eastward, he immediately noticed Dzeb moving cautiously ahead of Jure toward the building he stood upon. The delver called out and revealed everything he had observed. He recommended the wizard and giant remain a safe distance so they wouldn't provoke the infern.

  When he finished, Ryson heard movement to the south. Looking down the wide road that led directly to the half-demon, he spied a contingent of soldiers marching almost recklessly to the scene of the fire.

  "Jure!" Ryson shouted. "The town guard is moving up from the south, directly to your left. They're headed right for the infern."

  "I'll handle it!" Jure advised, and then turned to Dzeb. "Stay here and keep watch. Don't let anything get near the infern."

  After the behemoth nodded and set his calm sights on the roads and alleys nearby, Jure rushed down a side street. He intercepted the soldiers before they were in range of the half-demon. He spotted a sergeant leading the small platoon and directed his instructions to the tall and muscular guard holding a long spear.

  "Sergeant! You have to hold."

  The soldier halted, but appeared unhappy about the delay. He stared at the wizard and said nothing.

  "The infern ahead isn't causing any damage," Jure explained. "It's here as a sacrifice. If we harm it, it will open us up to a far worse attack."

  Still, the guard refused to speak. The soldiers behind him grunted angrily, some wished to shove past the wizard, but the sergeant held them back, though somewhat reluctantly.

  "It would be safer if you pulled back," Jure continued. "Actually, if you could relay a message to your captain, that would be a great help. Inform him that Enin is handling the situation and the guard must not engage any of the inferns."

  "The inferns must die," the sergeant finally responded with the cold edge of determination.

  Jure was taken aback by the rage within the response and by the grunts of agreement from the entire platoon. There was anger within them, and the wizard attributed it to the method of the half-demon's attack. He knew Connel had suffered losses to their food supplies by inferns burning crops. It was not beyond reason to expect a level of resentment against a display of demon fire. Still, Jure could not allow the soldiers to make an emotionally charged and critical mistake. He remained calm in the face of obvious fury as he tried to explain the extent of the peril Connel faced.

  "Killing them won't help. Do you see the fireball? Demons are in the smoke. If one infern is harmed, they'll attack."

  "Let them!"

  The ignorance of the challenge surprised the wizard further. Jure believed he was dealing with nothing more than simple arrogance. The soldiers were agitated and spoiling for a fight. They probably had no idea of the darkness that waited to fall upon them.

  "You don't understand, if this..."

  The sergeant didn't allow the wizard to continue. He struck Jure across the chest with the stout wooden handle of his spear. With the wizard stunned and prone on the ground, the soldier towered over him.

  "It's you who doesn't understand," the guard growled. "We are here to kill the infern, and nothing will stand in our way!"

  Jure gasped for breath. His chest ached with every heave. He struggled to bring in air as he fought to maintain consciousness. Confused and hurt, he reached out to the magic to gather his wits and his strength, As he did, he sensed something wrong with the soldiers before him.

  He stared up at the sergeant but looked beyond the guard's face. He gazed deep into the magical aura and noted a strong flow of blurred energy. There was no color, but the surge of magic could not be denied.

  "Macheve," the wizard whispered.

  Jure knew the soldier was under the influence of the serp. The colorless magic came from Reiculf, but the intent to influence was undoubtedly serp in nature.

  The sergeant heard the wizard's murmur, and thus, so did Macheve. The serp, hiding somewhere in the city, could not allow Jure to live, and she gave new instructions to the tall soldier.

  The sergeant raised his spear and prepared to jam the sharp point into Jure's heart. The soldier's eyes rolled over white. He let out a scream of pure hate as he readied the weapon for a downward plunge.

  Jure was caught unprepared. He still fought for every breath and his chest burned from the pain of the sergeant's initial strike. He never imagined he would be assaulted and had no defensive spell at the ready. He was no match physically for the muscular guard, and even as he tried to roll away, he knew he moved too slowly to avoid the attack. All he managed was to roll over on to his hands and knees. Rather than skewering his heart, he believed the spear would probably sever his spine.

  Right when he expected a stab of searing pain, the magic within him exploded of its own accord. He cast no spell, placed no directive within the energy. A blast of power deflected the spear and sent every guard sprawling, but the energy unleashed itself without any conscious instruction from the wizard.

  Jure finally struggled to his feet even as the soldiers remained momentarily stunned by the blast. He looked over the jumbled mass of guards in complete bewilderment. He knew the force blast came from within him, but he also knew he cast no spell.

  Unwilling to accept the outcome as simple luck or some unconscious reflex, he remained near the area of conflict. He probed the remnants of the spell which saved him, searched for clues for its origin and purpose.

  Only a portion of the magic was his own, with unmistakable links to his magical core. The remainder of the energy was clean, untainted by any individual's desire or inherent ability. He could not trace its origins back to any previous spell or even to any natural flow across the land. It did not come from the billowing winds above the city or from the clouds rolling across the horizon, nor did it flow in from the fields surrounding Connel or from the forest far in the distance.

  The more he tried to grasp the
energy, the more it eluded him. He could only follow it back to the discharge that saved his life. Beyond that one clear line, it offered no distinct trail. Every shred of magic somehow came from within him, but he remained certain that most of it was never his to shape in any deliberate spell. It was a power beyond his control. It saved his life, but not by his own resolve.

  "That's twice," Jure muttered, as he recalled the first time his life was spared by a power he could not explain.

  He would have liked to analyze the magic with greater care, but the soldiers were quickly regaining their focus. They would soon all be on their feet, and the wizard remained convinced that Macheve was in control of their actions. Running back toward Dzeb, he called out to the giant.

  "Soldiers are coming. They're going to attack the infern. We can't let that happen!"

  Ryson had seen the confrontation and heard the wizard's warning. He climbed down to the street and met with the wizard and giant.

  "You're sure it's Macheve?" the delver questioned.

  "It's more than just Macheve. She's using Reiculf's power to influence the soldiers."

  "Which means she probably can influence more."

  "Much more," Jure agreed. "Maybe the whole city."

  #

  Enin teleported to a spot directly in front of Gnafil. They both stood in the center of a wide street. Gnafil appeared at first to be completely focused on the fireball in the sky, but slowly he turned his gaze upon the wizard and smiled.

  "That was almost too easy," Gnafil snarled, but the voice was not his. It was Reiculf's.

  "Easy?" Enin question. "No, not easy. If you're going to take me, you're going to have to shut down the gateway."

  "And why is that?"

  "You can't fight me and feed the spell at the same time."

  "Really?" the half-demon asked.

  To answer his own question, the infern released a blast of orange energy meant to trap the wizard in a cage of flames.

  Enin responded instantly. Two circles of white energy ripped through the flames, breaking apart the cage and dousing the fire.

  "So you really wish to stand and fight?" Reiculf questioned through the half-demon's mouth.

  "It won't be a fight," the wizard responded, "at least not one you can win. Creating a dimensional window suspended in the sky indefinitely takes far more energy than any infern can produce."

  "I am not depending on the infern's magic."

  "I realize you can feed your own energy into him," Enin answered directly to the daokiln, "but there are still limits to what you can do."

  "Limits? You have no idea of the vastness of my energy. My power extends across history. I am the culmination of every transgression ever committed. I grow stronger with every day."

  "But you cannot feed all that energy through a single vessel such as an infern and expect it to hold. As I said, there are limits."

  "Then let us test those limits further."

  Gnafil sent another wave of fire toward the wizard. The flames fell short, but the raging temperatures surrounded Enin like a glass lid. The spell was not meant to scorch the wizard, but rather to engulf him with just enough heat to burn away the air around him, force him into unconsciousness.

  Rather than feed the flames with flowing winds, Enin pulled cool air from high above to fall down upon the blaze like a hammer on an anvil. The ground shook as the heat was stamped away and the flames were snuffed out from the force of the strike.

  "Your attempts are weak," Enin chided the daokiln. "I understand the magic and how much can flow through the land. I've seen surges of energy as vast as the sea, but I know there are limits to containment. It is possible you wield even greater energy, but you cannot put all of it through a single infern... not in one wave and hope that Gnafil will not be torn apart."

  "You understand nothing!"

  Enin looked over his shoulder at the source of the warning. It did not come from the infern... or from Reiculf. It came from Ansas.

  "Stay out of this," Enin cautioned. "I'm not going to allow darowks to terrorize Connel."

  "At this point, that would be the least of our worries," the sorcerer scolded. "The threat of the darowks was only meant to draw you out into the open. They've already succeeded."

  "No! The demons remain in Demonspawn. It is only Gnafil that we have to defeat."

  "Not Gnafil... Reiculf."

  The half-demon did not respond. He appeared to enjoy the conflict between the two spell casters as he silently watched them argue.

  "Reiculf may be able to reach out into Uton through Gnafil," Enin insisted, "but the infern limits what he can do."

  "Those limits are not enough to save you. He will take you, and through you, he will destroy Connel... and then all of Uton."

  "No, he won't. You're forgetting the fireball."

  "What about it?"

  "We both know it's a dimensional gateway. It may be closed, but keeping such a window in existence indefinitely is a tremendous drain of energy. Reiculf can't send all of that energy through Gnafil and then send additional magic to overpower me. The infern would explode."

  "You idiot!" Ansas roared. "Do you think the energy for that fireball is still coming from Gnafil?"

  "Where else could it be coming from?"

  "Demonspawn... directly from Reiculf! Gnafil only cast the initial spell. Once it was created, Reiculf could feed it with energy without having to use the infern!"

  "That's not possible," Enin protested. "It's a closed window! It's not open."

  "It doesn't have to be! All it has to do is create a connection between here and Demonspawn. Don't you think it does that?"

  Enin began to see the sorcerer's point, but there remained questions he could not answer. The spells Gnafil used to try and capture him were weak at best. He was able to cast them aside with hardly an effort.

  "If that's true, then why hasn't he used his full power against me?"

  "He's playing with you!"

  Gnafil finally decided to speak, but once again, it was Reiculf's voice that raged out from the infern's mouth.

  "He's right," the monster admitted, "I enjoy playing with my prey. I like watching you squirm in vain hope. I believe you still have such hope. Why don't you try attacking me directly?"

  "Don't do it!" Ansas cautioned. "He wants you to open a channel, a pathway he can use to take control of you."

  "Stay out of this, sorcerer," the infern growled.

  Ansas would not heed the warning. A ring of ebony power formed around his clenched fists, and he threw the spell at Enin before either the wizard or the half-demon could react.

  "Don't fight it!" Ansas warned.

  "What is it?" Enin demanded.

  "Temporary transformation. It will alter the remnant of my magic that remains inside of you. Reiculf will not be able to link to you as long as the energy remains in flux."

  Suddenly enraged, Gnafil cast a spell of his own, but rather than burnt amber energy, he called on the pure power of Reiculf. Three rings of colorless magic formed around the infern's body. He let them loose upon Enin, hoping to take hold of the wizard, but Ansas' spell disrupted the attempt.

  The infern screamed in fury as he pressed harder against the spell that spoiled his grasp. Large streams of energy raged out of the half-demon like a flooded river overflowing its banks.

  "I can't hold this for long," Ansas shouted. "Get us out of here!"

  Enin cast a quick spell of teleportation, and the wizard and sorcerer disappeared.

  Gnafil ended his attempt to invade Enin's consciousness even as Reiculf roared in frustration. The half-demon knew he could not fail his master again. He quickly scanned the residual waves of magic from Enin's spell. He cast his own incantation of teleportation and followed the trail.

  Chapter 21

  "The guards are under the influence of the serp," Haven warned the elf elder. "The daokiln's magic is being unleashed upon them all."

  Her own magic had revealed the truth. Even Reiculf's decei
tful power could not hide from the light of the elf sorceress. Haven saw the ripples of hateful influence which urged the human soldiers toward the flames in the eastern section of Connel.

  "They will try to kill the infern to incite the darowks to enter Uton," Holli added. "We must not allow that to happen, but we also must avoid injuring the humans. They are not responsible for their actions."

  Both Holli and Haven looked to Shantree for instruction. They might have stood within a human city, but they could not deny their heritage. Even for Holli, who had been exiled from the elf camp, the elves would follow the lead of their elder.

  Though uncomfortable with her surroundings—a maze of tall buildings, many bearing clear evidence of dwarf design and construction—Shantree willingly took command. She remained silent at first, but only to assess the full measure of the calamity they faced.

  Shantree was not an elf guard, not trained in the ways of battle, but she had faced difficult decisions and trying times during her relatively short period of authority. She pulled upon the wisdom gained during such trials as she searched for a response.

  The elder glanced down several streets. She did not need the keen eyesight of an elf to see the unfolding tragedy. The city was in turmoil, no doubt the work of the daokiln, and further chaos would be unleashed by the city's own protectors.

  Human soldiers were advancing upon the infern from every direction. They were heavily armed and their intentions were clear. They showed no fear of the wave of fire flaring into the midday sky. They were going to kill the infern.

  For its part, the infern ignored the approaching soldiers. It was either under the direct influence of Macheve... or the daokiln himself. It displayed no concern for its own safety and revealed no aggression toward the guards. It could have redirected the demon fire to defend its position, but it refused to send the flames in any direction other than up into the sky.

  Despite the half-demon's apparent restraint, Shantree realized the benign gesture was nothing more than a ploy. The infern had no real love for the humans or their city. It had been placed within the confines of Connel to serve as a sacrifice.