by Ari Marmell
"Not yet," came the equally quiet reply. "He's far too focused. I need him distracted."
Corvis nodded. "How did you find us?" he asked, raising his voice once more.
/Didn't have to. You've always been predictable, Corvis. As soon as I dropped "Master" Nenavar's name, I knew you'd come here eventually. All I had to do was watch the place./
"I can't believe the idiot didn't have teleportation wards on his own home."
/Oh, he did, more than you'd ever imagine. But he'd attuned them to admit me. He so enjoyed summoning me to him at every whim, and after all, I couldn't possibly hurt him, could I?/
Another nod. And of course, he'd have been able to carry Mellorin as well-or at worst, teleport her nearby and then physically open the door from within.
"Khanda, please…"
/Eh?/
"Let her go." He hadn't known he was going to say it until the words were out. "She's taken Nenavar out for you, done what you needed her to. This is between us. Let her go."
/Why, Corvis, that's so sweet, I could just cry. Actually, I'd rather make someone else cry. It's so much more fun./
"Khanda…" Just keep talking, you bastard. With every second, he could feel the pain of his wounds lessening, his strength growing…
/I'm keeping her, Corvis. She really wanted to be here for this. Besides, I think I've grown attached to the little lady-rather like a pet. I want her around to see what happens to you, and you to see some of what I'll be doing to her. It's not good for family to have secrets from each other, you know./
Corvis choked, fire roaring in his mind. And as it had before, his concentration wavered.
/Corvis…?/ Not merely the demon's tone, but the set of his shoulders, bespoke a sudden suspicion. /Corvis, what are you doing?/
"Damn it!" If Khanda had sensed the slow spring of magic flowing through their bodies, mending their hurts, they could wait no longer. "Are you ready?"
"No!" that voice insisted. "Corvis, I need more time!"
"Then I," he growled, tensing muscles that should have been too weak to move, "need the Kholben Shiar."
Beneath Corvis's cloak and tunic-and, too, beneath the soil exposed by the rents in the floor-unseen things began to move…
"What? Where are you-?"
"Probably nowhere. You've just got me paranoid now. I want to make sure nobody's following-that Mavere didn't somehow manage to signal anyone."
"Paranoid indeed," Jassion said. "But probably wise," he acknowledged, riding on ahead.
Corvis wheeled his mount in a tight circle and galloped back the way they'd come, straining to keep one eye on the sky, the other on the road. As soon as he was well and truly out of sight of the others he reined the beast to a halt and raised an arm out before him.
Having been waiting for just that, or so it seemed, one of the crows circling above plummeted to alight upon his wrist. It was a bedraggled, sickly-looking thing, with drooping feathers and weeping eyes.
"I see you brought some friends," Corvis said.
Wings rose and fell in what was probably meant as a shrug. "They followed me," the crow told him. "Probably figured I knew something they didn't. Or maybe they were curious about me."
"Or maybe they're just birds, and gods know why they do anything."
"Or that, yes."
Corvis lowered his wrist so she could hop onto the pommel of his saddle. "I was afraid I'd never see you again, Seilloah."
"You almost didn't," she admitted.
"I'm sorry I-"
"No, Corvis, I'm sorry. Of course finding Mellorin and stopping Khanda take precedence. I don't like it, but I understand it. It's just-it hurts so much, you've no idea how much…"
"I understand," he told her softly.
"You don't. Not really."
"No, not really. Seilloah…" He swallowed, reached up to wipe away tears he refused to shed. "Seilloah, if you want, I could-I could end it. Make it quick."
Corvis didn't understand how, but he swore he saw the beak flex into a sad smile. "No, dearest. Thank you-I know how much you didn't want to offer that-but it's not necessary. If I want to end it, all I need do is stop fighting. Let the spell lapse. It'll be over in seconds."
"Then why…?"
"I thought about it. More than once, especially in the past few weeks, I very nearly did. But I couldn't, not yet."
"Why not?"
"Khanda. Corvis, I think I know how to beat him…" CORVIS ROLLED TO HIS FEET, his companions-all save Salia Mavere, whom Seilloah had not thought worth the effort to heal-following only seconds after. A small crow stuck its head out from within Corvis's tunic, and from beneath the exposed soil erupted a squid-like array of roots and tendrils, drawn through the earth from the surrounding gardens and hedge. With uncanny speed they lashed out, some knocking Khanda and Nenavar aside, others wrapping like whips about Mellorin's wrists. She cried out, and the Kholben Shiar plummeted earthward.
Even more tendrils intercepted them, flinging them hilt-first across the room. Seilloah dived from Corvis's clothes and fluttered toward the cracked ceiling as he snagged the weapons in mid-flight. Sunder he clasped in his left fist, spinning it in an upright grip even as it shifted into its familiar shape. But Talon-Talon he whipped back behind his head and hurled back across the chamber. It tumbled end over end, forming into an axe not unlike Sunder itself, and struck…
Not Khanda, for the demon had not been Corvis's target, but Nenavar. The old wizard's body spasmed as his head split under the axe's caress, and then lay forever still.
Everything went silent as death. Slowly, Khanda rose from where the writhing plants had flung him. With an angry grunt, he shoved Nenavar's body off him, small gobbets of his former master's brain and skull clinging to his face. Corvis spun Sunder smoothly through the air before him, ready for any response.
Except, perhaps, for Khanda to simply stand gaping at him, jaw moving silently. In all the years they'd known each other, in all the forms the demon had worn, Corvis had never seen him at a loss for words.
"You…" Even when he finally spoke, the words seemed almost too much for him. "You bastard!"
"Really, Khanda? That's the best you can do?"
"Kaleb?" Mellorin appeared at his side, clutching her lacerated wrists. "Why is he calling you-"
But the demon ignored her, had eyes only for the man he hated most in all the world. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for a sorcerer to take over another's conjuration? I don't even know if there are any alive who could do it! I'm going to have to search for years before I find someone who can usurp Nenavar's spell!"
"And until then, there's no way to free you from the binding's limitations. I know." Corvis shrugged. "Weren't you the one who just told me I ought to be trying to kill Nenavar? You were right. Thanks for the suggestion."
"Kaleb," Mellorin demanded, her tone far more insistent. "What's he talking about?"
"Yes, Kaleb." Corvis smiled grimly. "Tell her what I'm talking about."
Khanda growled and shoved Mellorin aside, not hard, just enough to stagger her. "You," the demon hissed, "are now officially more troublesome than you are fun. Good-bye, Corvis."
Flames bridged the chamber. Stone cracked; brimstone-reeking smoke made for the holes above, seeking its own escape. Anticipating just such an attack, Corvis and the others dived aside. He continued rolling, rose and ran as Khanda spun, sweeping his hellfire across the far wall in swift pursuit.
Sweat poured down Corvis's face, his heart pounded in his chest. Over the roaring fire he heard his daughter shouting, but what she said, or whether she addressed him or the man she knew as Kaleb, he couldn't tell. He was nearing the end of the cellar, had nowhere else to dodge…
And the flames abruptly angled upward before ceasing entirely. At Seilloah's urging, the tendrils lashed at Khanda yet again, knocking him backward and disrupting his attack. For the second time in as many minutes, the room went abnormally, impossibly silent.
In that instant of calm, Corvis saw the
others staring at him, nightmarish phantoms in the flickering light of the many small fires that illuminated the cellar. And he saw in their faces a growing despair, for what, really, could they do against such a foe?
Struggling to catch his breath, he gestured toward Khanda, who was even now rising once more to his feet. "Wound him! It'll be enough!" He didn't know if they heard, wasn't even certain how loudly he'd spoken, but Jassion and Irrial both nodded all the same. They separated, advancing on the demon from different sides. In her right fist, the baroness clutched her dueling blade-better than nothing against Khanda, albeit only just-but Jassion's hands remained empty.
Khanda stood tall, hands raised, and from above came the first hint of whistling-of the air itself splitting-as he prepared to call down another storm of undiluted eldritch force. Corvis cocked his arm back as though to hurl Sunder like he had Talon, and just as he'd hoped, Khanda flinched, allowing his spell to fade. Immortal the demon might be, but with the aid of the Kholben Shiar, they had taught him to fear pain.
The others lunged, taking advantage of that momentary distraction. Irrial's blade sank deep into the meat of Khanda's side; a mere sting, less than an inconvenience, but at least a start. Jassion, however, hurtled past his foe; stooped, instead, by Nenavar's corpse and lifted Talon from the human wreckage. Clutching the hilt in both hands as it sculpted itself again into his great two-hander, he took a single step toward Khanda and offered a twisted smile.
The demon waved, and Jassion felt himself lifted from his feet, as had happened thrice before. This time, however, he recognized the gesture and twisted aside while thrusting with the demon-forged blade, as though parrying a corporeal weapon. Perhaps it helped, perhaps he'd simply avoided the worst of the spell, but he tumbled only a few yards before landing in an awkward crouch.
Seilloah's roots and tendrils continued whipping themselves at Khanda, forcing him to split his attentions, lest he be knocked aside or bound long enough for either Kholben Shiar to deliver up far greater torment.
Mellorin appeared suddenly at his side, her own dagger held before her. "Go!" she insisted, placing herself between her lover and her father's relentless approach. "I can hold them long enough for you to get out!"
Corvis pulled up short just beyond his daughter's reach, his eyes imploring, his soul shivering at the gleam in Khanda's own.
"No…" The demon turned away, devoting his attention to Jassion and Irrial. "No, don't keep him off me. Kill him."
"What? No! Kaleb, I don't think I'm-"
"Kill him."
Her face gone slack in horrified disbelief, tears beginning to roll along her cheeks, Mellorin advanced on her father, blade held high.
"Mellorin!" Corvis stretched forth a hand, only to yank it back as her blade nearly took off the tips of his fingers. "Mellorin, stop!"
"I'm trying!" And he saw, then, the unsteady gait as she approached, the twitching and shuddering that ran through her limbs without slowing her movements one iota. "Oh, gods, what's happening?"
Corvis backpedaled as fast as the loose rubble would permit, Sunder held defensively, casting about desperately for some solution. Time and again Mellorin's blade struck, and each time he parried only to find himself faced with a new angle of attack. She was good, she was fast; better and faster than he'd ever have expected. He felt his chest swell with pride even as he wondered how to stop her. More than once she left herself open, and he felt the tug as Sunder, or perhaps his own instincts, goaded him to strike. But by every god and every damned soul, he would not!
Over her shoulder, he saw Khanda hurling himself about like an acrobat, spinning between Seilloah's tendrils, always just beyond reach of Jassion's furiously hacking blade. Now and again, bursts of fire or shrieking levinbolts would hurtle from the demon's fists, pour from his eyes. Thanks to the speed and magics of the Kholben Shiar, the baron avoided or even parried most of them, but burns across his arms and chest showed where a few had found their mark.
Corvis saw, too, the witch fluttering in the corner above, raining feathers and bloody pus as her strength ebbed, the corruption spread through her latest-her last?-body.
And then Corvis's boot came down on a rough chunk of stone, and he found himself flailing. With a cry of infinite despair, Mellorin lunged.
Still he could have stopped her, could have cut her down with Sunder before the dagger fell. Still he would not.
White-hot agony yanked at his entire body like an angry puppeteer as her blade plunged deep into his left side. He coughed twice, felt the slick steel slide from his flesh as he staggered. Groaning, he pressed his left hand to the wound, felt liquid warmth between his fingers.
"Daddy? I'm so sorry, Daddy…" Even as she wept, she came at him again, bloody knife poised, and it was all he could do to stay ahead of her.
"Sorry?" Khanda's mocking laugh echoed through the cellar. "This is what you wanted, Mellorin! Ah, fickle youth…"
A shadow fell across Mellorin and the baroness appeared behind, hands outstretched to wrestle the blade away. The girl spun a brutal kick into Irrial's knee and continued on, ignoring the other woman as she collapsed to the floor.
"Corvis…" It came from above, the caw of a wounded bird. "Corvis, I can't hold on much longer. If it doesn't happen soon…"
"Aw, poor Corvis." Again from Khanda, literally dancing away from Jassion's blade. He wasn't even trying to attack anymore, wasn't throwing fire or arcane bolts. He was, Corvis realized with a choking mouthful of bile, enjoying the show. "Did your little plan fall apart? Did you smuggle poor, dying Seilloah here for nothing?"
Corvis snarled something, but the words that crossed the cellar were Mellorin's, not his own. "Kaleb! Gods, Kaleb, don't make me do this! Please…"
"I admit," Khanda continued, "it's not as efficient as Selakrian's charm, but it seems to be doing the trick, doesn't it? Of course, it'd be a lot harder if part of her hadn't already wanted to see you dead. Poor abandoned waif. But if it makes you feel better, it's mostly me. I told you, I've complete control of my physical form-and I've spent many a night these past weeks leaving tiny parts of that form in sweet little Mellorin. And now look. Why, the result is almost as much fun as the process!"
Corvis stumbled once more, so violently was he trembling, and only Sunder's unnatural speed enabled him to parry the stroke that followed. Thick blood soaked his trousers, left a trail across the floor, and with every step his wound pumped another spurt of his life.
"Daddy, please! You have to fight back! Please don't let me do this!" But he could not. Another stroke of the dagger and Sunder went spinning across the room, knocked from a broken and bleeding hand.
"Do you suppose I'm fortunate enough," Khanda asked, slicing one of Seilloah's roots with the edge of his bare hand, "that she might conceive? If so, Corvis, I hope you'll be good enough to let us name the child after you. It was you, after all, who brought us together."
Corvis was screaming unintelligible, bestial sounds. Veins stood out in his neck and across his forehead; spittle hung from the corner of his lips. Irrial was back on her feet, struggling to reach them, to do something, but with her limp she had trouble even walking, certainly could not keep up with his constant retreat or Mellorin's relentless advance. Even Salia Mavere, it appeared, was trying now to lend a hand, but she could only crawl and stagger from where she'd been thrown, looking for some way to help.
Mellorin closed, her dagger flashing…
THROUGH HIS BURNING FURY, through his constant slashes and thrusts at a target who evaded his every effort with inhuman grace, Jassion still managed to keep track of what was happening to the others. He saw the Terror of the East forced into retreat, saw blood spilling from his side, and in his soul, he rejoiced. No matter what threat Khanda posed, an uncountable array of wrongs would be set right by Rebaine's death; no matter what the warlord and Seilloah had planned, surely he, with Talon, could serve just as well. The time had finally come for retribution for Denathere, for all Imphallion…
For Jassion, and for the sister who was ripped from him.
But then, as he swung Talon, he saw his sister, saw Tyannon not as the girl he remembered from so long ago, but as he'd seen her months before, for the first time in his adult life. He saw her face, staring, imploring. And he saw, too, Mellorin's eyes, horrified as she'd taken her first unwilling steps toward Rebaine.
He saw, and he knew that neither woman-none of his family-could live with what she was about to do.
And Jassion, the Baron of Braetlyn, abandoned his fight with Khanda to save the life of the Terror of the East-and the soul of the Terror's daughter.
"Irrial! Catch!"
Corvis heard the call, saw Jassion sprinting his way, tossing Talon at the limping baroness as he neared. The distance between them was not vast, but broken pebbles shifted beneath his feet, slowing his headlong plunge, and Mellorin's dagger rose ever higher.
Rose… and stopped.
Steel glinted, seeming to dance in the flickering firelight. Inches separated father from daughter, and the old warlord knew he should already be dead.
Mellorin's blade, her hand, her entire body shuddered, muscle and flesh warring against each other. Dried lips split and bled, so tightly were they compressed together. She cried out once, in pain or fury Corvis could not tell, and then she was moving again, once more a slave to Khanda's whims. But in that one moment of rebellion, she'd bought Jassion the extra seconds he'd needed. She heard his footsteps, turned to face her charging uncle, thrust with the vicious weapon.
Jassion made no move to stop her. He twisted so that the dagger grated across his chain-armored ribs, winced with pain as several links parted, and then slammed into his niece, carrying them both to the floor. He lay atop her, pinning her with his bulk, fighting to grab at her wrists. He saw hope flare in her features, even as she bucked and thrashed beneath him, struggling to break free.
"Oh, no, this will never do." Flame again roared from Khanda's hands, reducing the intervening tendrils to ash, but it approached slowly, a tide rather than a rushing river. The demon, Corvis realized, wanted to force Jassion to release the young woman, rather than simply char them both to nothing. He struggled to close on Khanda, and found he could scarcely walk. The agony in his side flared, his legs turned to so much paste, and he collapsed to an awkward crouch.