Nightlord: Sunset

by Garon Whited

  It was evil. It was hungry. And it was quite willing to serve me as long as it got planted in someone’s flesh. Amoral to the extreme. Whoever created this thing had no sense of personal scruple. And whatever had been put in this blade, it was more sinister, evil, and ugly than a dragon. By far.

  I got to my feet in time to be ready for his next charge. He swung at me with Firebrand—my sword was still trying to burn his hand off, but that hit from the fork must have been exhausting—and I ducked. Now months of patient practice made themselves felt. While Tobias was still faster than I, he had no experience with a sword; I went under his clumsy swing and straight for him. I got inside his guard before he could check the swing—there are disadvantages to a big sword!—and grappled him with my bad arm. There, body-to-body, I shoved his own knife up under his ribs and into his heart.

  We stood there, very still, for a long moment. He looked at me as though I’d committed some unpardonable breach of manners, like farting in church or belching at the dinner-table. It was an expression of wide-eyed surprise, frozen for a stretched and timeless instant, while we stared at each other. Then the moment snapped and time came flooding back. His fingers opened and Firebrand fell ringingly to the stone. Tobias took a staggering step back, looked down at the knife-hilt projecting from his body, then slipped to his knees.

  The knife started to pulse, blackly.

  Bad sign. I grabbed Firebrand—I heard it mutter something; I think it was “ouch”—and hurried to the block Shada was on. She was laid out on the slab, obviously for sacrifice. She seemed uninjured. She hadn’t been tied down, not even tied up. I tried to rouse her, but couldn’t get her attention; her eyes were unfocused, glassy. I put one hand on her arm, preparatory to lifting her, slinging her over my shoulder, and running like hell.

  I froze at the sound of a voice.

  “Well done,” Tobias said, behind me. His voice sounded… different. More sibilant and richer, if that makes any sense. The sound of it was still recognizably his voice, but different. Different in a way I’d only heard from Tamara’s throat. I felt a cold sensation at the idea that Someone might be using Tobias’ dead body for His own purposes…

  I let go of Shada and slowly turned around. He was standing right behind me, holding the hilt of the knife. The blade was missing. He dropped it and it shattered at his feet. His missing hand was back, after a fashion; the member that grew from the charred stump of his arm was bloody, almost flayed. Bone projected through the pulsing, red flesh. It was slick and stiff, awkward—but visibly improving.

  “Well done?” I echoed. My right arm was almost in shape; a moment or three longer and I’d see if his resistance to injury extended to bisection. With luck, not even the Father of Darkness could hold him together. Without it, I was purely and completely screwed.

  Along with the planet. Plate. World, anyway.

  “Well done indeed, cousin. Thank you for bringing me in.”

  That’s when I saw the eyes. The Eyes. I remembered them from a dream. I looked over my shoulder and saw the Thing that had been mimicking Tobias—or, perhaps, using him as a puppet?—was no longer there.

  It was here. Standing in front of me, barely an arm’s length away, in Tobias’ flesh.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, watching it carefully, trying to judge its balance—and avoid those Eyes.

  “The dagger was the key,” it replied, smiling with Tobias’ mouth. “When you took his life with the dagger, you gave that life to me. Now I am the Devourer cloaked in flesh! I need fear no light. Darkness will devour the world.”

  Megalomaniacs worry me. Powerful ones make me downright nervous. Megalomaniac demons I’ve accidentally helped to take on physical form are the worst of all.

  “I thought you were the Father of Darkness,” I confessed.

  He/It laughed. “No, no. He is more powerful than you think, little cousin; He is the emptiness at the end of all things. If He were to move against you, even the demigods that came to your defense would be snuffed.”

  My arm was almost healed. I kept him talking.

  “What about the Mother of Flame? She stood him off before.”

  The laughter was shocking. It was a laugh of profound amusement. It was the laugh of something not even vaguely human. It sent chills up my spine.

  “That was not the Father you saw, hovering there in the void!” It said. “That was I! I, who broke the lying goddess’ church of Fire. I, who led men to invent a god of light! I, who drank deep of their faith and grew strong! Now I live within the world while she gnashes teeth and watches. Her use for you is done, and she drops her tools when there is no further use for them. Now join with me, little cousin, for I will have you at my right hand and make you lord over the kings of the world!”

  Demons lie a lot. That’s a comfort, of a sort. But I think the smarter ones also like to gloat. If what he said was true, then the Mother of Fire wasn’t a duality with the Father of Darkness. Instead, She was a demigod, a lesser god—an equal to this Thing in Tobias’ flesh.

  I’d have prayed it wasn’t so, but to whom? Nothing seemed to be going right, tonight. Well, maybe I could change that…

  “Why should I?” I asked. “Why should I help you in any way?”

  “Fool!” It snapped. “Who do you think drove this feeble cleric to madness? Who twisted his words? Who found you a dozen times, yet said nothing? Who put fear in his heart of your world’s weapons, and so kept them from this place? Who watched over you like a father over a son, guarding and protecting you? You have a debt to me!”

  I thought about that for a bit. That would fit. It would make so much sense… but as for his motivation…

  “I don’t think so,” I answered, shifting my grip on Firebrand. My arm was feeling fine and I was about as ready as I could be. “I think you owe me. You used me as a scapegoat and a target to drive Tobias crazy and to keep yourself here—you used me to get into this world!”

  I brought Firebrand up in a vertical slash, meaning to hit him in the crotch and carry on up to the brainpan. Instead, I found myself hit almost before I even started—hit and pushed. He/It had been expecting something, I guess. Both of Tobias’ hands shot out, connecting with my chest, and sent me hurtling up and backward over the altar, over Shada…

  …and over the edge.

  The only thing I could think was This is so gonna suck when I hit that mess of Things. What I actually said was more along the lines of, “Oh, sssshhhhhhhiiiiiiii—”

  I passed the edge. A few billion claws reached hungrily for me.

  I landed in a cloud of blackness. One second, claws and teeth and talons as far as the eye could see—the next, complete darkness. It was like floating in ink. All around, I could hear whimpering and whining and not a little slavering and yowling, but I didn’t feel a thing.

  You should not be inside, said a voice. I didn’t recognize it. I was about to make an angry remark—I was terrified out of my mind; if I stopped to consider how frightened I was, I wouldn’t have time to be angry—but someone else answered first.

  “Why not?” Tobias/Devourer answered. “Because You will not be? I found a way! I did!”

  If I had desired incarnation, I would have done so long ago.

  “I desired it. I have it! Nothing will keep me from devouring the world!”

  I felt movement. The blow that knocked me out of the world had cracked ribs; they hurt a bit, but were mending rapidly. My arm was as good as new, too. Wherever I was going, I decided not to fight it. I wasn’t being harmed and it was a lot better than being eaten alive by Things in the outer darkness of the world. Still, I was worried. What sort of entity could have rescued me?

  I was afraid I knew the answer. Something in my blood knew the answer, that’s certain.

  I was in the clutches of the Father of Darkness.

  “Firebrand?” I whispered.

  Aaaaagh, came the faint reply.

  “Are you going to live?”

  A few… weeks in a… furn
ace… would be… good.

  “Gotcha.”

  The voice of the cloud continued while I conferred with Firebrand.

  Little demon, you cannot devour the world. Or, rather, you are capable of it, but cannot be allowed to do so.

  “You would prevent it?” I could almost hear the look of stunned surprise. “WHY?”

  If you devour the world, it will simply be made anew—and the barriers about that one will be even harder to breach. No. The game must be played on the board we have.

  “Game? You speak of games? The purpose of games is to win!”

  Not so, little demon. The purpose of games is to play.

  A snort of derision. “Play, then, while You can. Coddle Your pawn and keep it from my brethren if You will. Prize it and pamper it, or rend it at Your leisure. I shall take the world and consume it, bite by slow bite, and enjoy it to the crumbs.”

  The voice of the cloud laughed. It boomed like thunder until I thought I would go deaf. I tensed, trying to see through the all-encompassing murk. The sense of movement ceased.

  Fool,It said, coldly amused. You are no longer a player in the game—players cannot stand upon the board. You have made yourself a piece. A powerful piece, to be sure, but a piece nonetheless. Pieces do not dictate terms to the players.

  “If I am a piece, then why not use me? Work with me! Help me!”

  Because you are a poor piece, the voice answered, and that I will not tolerate.

  Uncertainty. “What… what do You mean?”

  Lights. I could see again! And stone! I was no longer beyond the edge; instead, I was falling face-first to the floor, a dozen yards from Tobias, right on top of—

  Knight takes bishop, said the darkness. Tobias’ body, fifty feet away, turned at the sound of my thud. I lay face-down for a moment, scrambling to shift Firebrand to my left hand…

  “Ha!” sneered the Thing in Tobias’ body. It marched across the stone floor, saying, “Give it back, will You? Then there shall be a double sacrifice to breach the barrier. I shall have that many more demons at my command. The conquest of the world shall be all the swifter!”

  A heavy boot cracked down on my left forearm, breaking it. I didn’t think my arm could be broken by anything short of a thirty-pound sledge. I let out a muffled grunt of pain. Firebrand came loose from my grip. I started to get up, my right arm still folded under me, when I felt a hand close on the nape of my neck. Another closed on the back of my belt. I was lifted, as easily and effortlessly as a grown man lifts a baby. With me suspended overhead like a prize lamb, Tobias’ body marched toward the altar.

  My right hand held the fork.

  I stabbed down as far as I could, aiming for the middle of his back; I’m either a good shot, or I finally got lucky—it centered on his spine, one tine to either side. He cried out, a wordless roar of agony, and convulsed, sending me flying. I crashed against the altar while he twisted and arched. The magic of the weapon drew out his essence and fed it back to him again. He shivered and twitched as though he were holding a live wire in his teeth. He thrashed, reaching for the fork, but it was almost exactly in the center of his back—impossible for a human body to reach and grasp.

  It took me a second to clear my head; the impact against the altar had rattled my skull, probably cracked it. When I realized the Thing in Tobias was distracted, I scrambled widely around him and snatched up Firebrand. I swayed a little as I stood up, but the disorientation of the head-blow was rapidly fading. I already had a plan.

  Enchantments are usually pretty efficient, but they take up some power on their own to maintain themselves. If that amulet and fork kept going, the Thing would lose power steadily. If I could keep it busy while that happened, eventually I could wear it down. And if it stayed distracted for just a few more seconds, immediate and radical neck surgery looked like a really good distraction.

  But no. When I turned, Tobias’ form was changing. His skin was darkening and turning more glossy-smooth. Those Eyes were growing larger and began to glow with an inner, hungry light. The head lengthened, became more predatory; the magical fork looked like the beginning—or the remains—of some strange crest. Most importantly for him/it, the arms were lengthening. The physical form of Tobias was taking on the shape of the Devourer incarnate.

  A shot thundered through the air. I looked wildly around. Another shot sounded and I spotted the flare of the muzzle. Keria was at the opening of the tunnel. To either side of her, I saw several men—most of them were magicians, but Linnaeus was also present—coming through the opening. To my surprise, one of them was Ander.

  I’ll be damned, thought I. The cavalry doesn’t always show up late!

  Keria had my pistol in her hands and was sighting down the length of her arms. She fired again and again, whenever she came to bear on her target. I’ve wondered where that pistol went, but never found time to seek it. She was missing consistently—I doubt she’d ever fired a gun before, and the range was pretty extreme—but the Devourer didn’t know much about guns either; it didn’t try to take cover.

  The Devourer looked at her for the space of two shots, then turned its attention to me.

  “A pet of yours, perhaps?” it asked. “I shall crack her bones and savor the—” it broke off, because one of Keria’s shots finally found its mark. The top quarter of the Devourer’s skull lifted off. At nearly a quarter-mile range—with a pistol!—that was either incredible luck or someone getting clever with a spell. My money was on the spell; nobody can get that lucky.

  The Thing staggered back, twitching. I can only think that having physical flesh gave it some physical limitations. No matter how mystical you are, if you need a body, you need a brain. When it goes, so does some control. It flailed around, trying to keep its balance, moving erratically and with difficulty until it crashed backward into the altar. That just drove the fork even deeper into its body and probably severely damaged its spine; it didn’t even try to rise. It paused for a moment to reorient itself and possibly get some measure of coordination back. I lifted Firebrand and started to approach as it reached back with one taloned hand to pull out the fork.

  Touching the haft was a bad idea. The low-level draw the fork’s enchantment was exerting must have been nothing but a persistent nuisance to something like the Devourer. But with half its brain blown into bloody chunks, it apparently forgot that grabbing the fork would reinforce the connection and amplify the amount of power it sucked out.

  My vampire eyes watched the circuit of power flood with energy, winding up like a sound system’s feedback. Unlike the screech of a sound system, it didn’t top out; it kept climbing… and climbing… both visually and audibly. I could sense both the fork and the pendant—both powerfully enchanted items—being horribly mistreated. They were obviously never meant to carry such a load.

  I decided to get away; I could smell disaster. I ran for it but, like Lot’s wife, I couldn’t help it; I looked over my shoulder to see what happened.

  The magic came undone. The enchantment broke under the strain and the magical artifacts let go not only of their rapidly-cycling charge, but the very magic that went into their making.

  The explosion was impressive. It started as a white glare in the shape of the Devourer and rapidly expanded, becoming a half-sphere. It grew, blazing brighter than a star, until it was about sixty feet across. At that point, it started to lose some of its luminescence. The front of the blast wave reminded me of old video footage of the first hydrogen bomb test, only smaller—and closer. It continued to expand, dissipating as it did, carrying with it a shockwave and a blast of heat.

  The shockwave hit like a driver, with me as the golf ball.

  It couldn’t have been more than a moment I was out. The rock against which I lay was cracked and my whole body hurt. I was both mending and hungry. I could smell smoke and burned flesh; I think that was me, but I didn’t feel it. It took me a moment to realize Keria was beside me, shaking me with both hands. Linnaeus was on the other side, trying to prop
me up, but watching everything that was going on. We were several rows up in the stands; I’m pretty sure that’s where I’d landed.

  Below me, spreading out, were several magicians—I recognized T’yl and his bodyguard-armor. They were chanting and gesturing, launching spells to slow or slay the Things that poured in over the edge of the world. Ander was with them, cloaked in a mantle of yellow-white fire and blasting any Thing that came within arm’s reach.

  Ah. The Mage’s Door in the Academy. I wish I’d taken time to see the Academy. They must have a very nice library. I wonder how Ander got set on fire? Poor guy. Maybe I should go down there and help.

  I wasn’t feeling all that coherent.

  The Things beyond the world’s edge were scattered; they were a lot closer to the center of the effect and rather bunched up. While they hadn’t had anything to be thrown against, the sphere of primary action looked pretty lethal. It hadn’t been a half-sphere; it had been a whole sphere, disintegrating even the rock beneath it. A lot of the Things were simply gone.

  The ones that survived were the less dangerous sort; they hadn’t been able to muscle up as close to the upcoming sacrifice, so they hadn’t taken the full impact of the blast. Still, I had a feeling a lot more would be coming. I found I didn’t mind. It should have worried me, but it didn’t—because, while I saw many items of interest, only a few registered on my consciousness.

  The surviving Things—now only several hundred, and most of them obviously hurt—were pouring out of the empty void and into the world. That was okay. It wasn’t what really got my attention, though.

  There was a neat, semicircular bite taken out of the world’s edge. Cracks radiated outward from it over most of the courtyard like a madman’s conception of spokes in a wheel. The center of that semicircle had been the Devourer. That was a good thing, in and of itself, but…

  …immediately behind it had been an altar…

  …and Shada.

  Shada is gone. Dark-haired and beautiful…

  “You must rise!” Keria screamed. It was the first sound I heard since the blast. “We have not the power to both hold these at bay and seal the barrier! You must rise and take up arms!”