“What in the hells is that?” said Sly.
“Just run!” Niklaus shouted. “And get away from me. It’s after me alone.” He shoved Sly’s shoulder, sending the thief stumbling to the side.
“Tell that to the people it’s already mashed! I saw it! The thing’s covered with gray scales and has orange eyes, and you should see its fangs! As long as daggers! How do we stop it?”
Niklaus gasped for breath, mouth dry and chest burning. He took a left turn at a red-brick building. “Where were its horns?”
“What?”
“Its horns. How many and where?” Niklaus struggled to remember what he’d read from his journals on the hierarchy of demons. The problem was, there were many layers to the abyss and the hells, and no one had cataloged all the types. Maybe the Tainted Cabal had.
“Some coming from its back and shoulders,” said Sly.
He wasn’t out of breath. Bastard. “Any others?”
“Two twisted ones on its head.”
Damnation. “How long were they? What shape?” The road they were on ended at a T-junction. Niklaus took the street on the right.
“About my arm’s length,” replied Sly. “Twisted, but not like a ram’s, more like an antelope’s. They were thin.”
Niklaus slowed to a brisk walk to try to catch his breath. He glanced behind him. There was no sign of the demon, but he wasn’t fooled. There was no way he’d lost it. Maybe it had tired of barging through houses on either side of narrow streets and alleys and was circling around.
Thin horns, only slightly twisted. “How tall was it?”
Sly’s brow furrowed. “Eleven feet.”
Bloody hells. “How far are we from the harbor?”
“Two and a half miles. We can try to catch a carriage, which would be quickest.” His eyes took in the state of Niklaus’s clothes. “But you’re not looking presentable, so we mightn’t—”
“I get it.” It was too far to run. “What about any cliffs? Are there any close by?”
“There’s the sea cliffs down by the harbor, but they’re—”
“Too far,” cursed Niklaus. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let himself. Sylva Kalisia had given him a mission, which he’d fulfilled, but he needed to stay alive. How else would he find a way to join her . . . to partake of her promise to him? He had no desire to become a dead suitor, and he wanted so much more than that. He desired to both serve and to be her equal.
He dimly became aware of Sly shouting at him, tugging at his sleeve.
“What?” snarled Niklaus.
“You drifted off. There’s the Tower of the Forgotten. It’s an old place of worship and ritual, and it’s not far from here, but—”
“How high is it? As high as Shadow-Wraithe Tower? We need something at least that tall.”
Sly’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head. “Where are you from? Shadow-Wraithe Tower is a myth; no one’s seen it.”
“Is it?” Niklaus’s memory might have been fuzzy and full of holes, but he did remember seeing the tower, and only a few years ago. “Well, how high is the Tower of the Forgotten?”
“Three hundred and forty-seven feet. A scholar measured it once, but I’ve never climbed it myself.”
“Then we go there. Which way?”
“Follow me. It’s—”
Bricks exploded over them both as the wall beside them blasted outward. A force slammed into Niklaus, sending him tumbling across the cobblestones. Sharp pain erupted from his side as he rolled; then he hammered into the wall on the other side of the street.
He coughed as he breathed in dust, then blinked furiously, trying to clear his eyes. A deep thrum sounded from elephantine lungs, not unlike a beast’s growl. A dust-covered form beside him stirred, and fragments of brick tumbled to the ground from the body: Sly.
A massive shape moved in the cloud of dust eddying in the street. Niklaus caught a glimpse of boulder-like shoulders and spiked horns. Then an immense roar split the night, so loud it shook his eardrums. The air swirled, and the demon’s putrid breath almost made him gag.
Niklaus grabbed Sly by the arm and hauled him upright. The boy’s eyes had a dazed look, and a gash along one cheek leaked crimson.
A group of drunken revelers rushed onto the scene, looking askance at them and their bedraggled appearance.
“You two!” one man shouted, then to his fellows, “Call the City Guard! We’re under attack . . . or something!” He approached Niklaus and Sly, one hand moving to a gaudy-hilted dagger at his belt. He licked his lips, then glanced back toward his friends.
As he turned back to Niklaus and Sly, an immense head emerged from the dust-laden mist. The reveler froze, mouth open, eyes fixed on the demon before him. Before he could move, the demon struck—the slash of a taloned hand. Flesh ripped. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed across the street and over Niklaus and Sly.
An entrance to a narrow alley was ten feet away. It would have to do. He had to put as much distance as possible between him and the city center. The demon would follow him. Niklaus threw one of Sly’s arms around his neck, shoved his shoulder into the thief’s armpit, then half-carried him into the alley. Sly stumbled, but he shook his head and steadied after a few moments.
“Shit, shit,” Sly said. “Are we dead?”
“No, we’re not bloody dead. Keep your feet moving!” The sound of the demon breaking walls and people’s pained screams and shouts of alarm faded gradually as they stumbled along the alley. “We have to keep to narrow streets,” Niklaus told Sly. “It’s the only way we can keep out of its reach until we reach the Tower of the Forgotten.”
“What in the bloody hells are we going to do at the tower?” shouted Sly. “Drop it on the thing?”
Niklaus shouldered Sly off him. If he was well enough to complain, he was well enough to walk by himself. “No, we’re going to push it off. Somehow. Come on, pick up the pace.” He broke into a jog.
“Push it off? Do you realize how stupid that sounds? It’s breaking through brick walls to get to you. Unless . . .” His eyes narrowed.
Niklaus got the feeling Sly was wondering how to use Niklaus as bait.
They crossed a wider street and were almost trampled by a horse-drawn carriage. The driver hauled on the reins, shouting curses at them.
Niklaus ignored him and ducked into another alley. “Which way?” he hissed.
The thief mumbled something under his breath. Whether a plea or a prayer, Niklaus didn’t know. Sly had wiped at the drops of blood splatter on his face, but only succeeded in streaking red lines across his skin.
Buildings and streets passed in a blurred frenzy. The chill mist swirled constantly around them, and mercifully the roads were relatively empty because of the fog. Sly stumbled and fell to the ground. His chest heaved as he struggled back to his feet. Niklaus urged him to keep moving.
“It’s not far now, is it?” Niklaus asked.
Sly shook his head, too winded to talk. They emerged from another narrow street and Sly stopped. “Here,” he managed to gasp.
Niklaus looked up, but couldn’t see a tower through the dense mist. Ahead of them, though, were large iron-reinforced doors set into a wall of gigantic black stones. At least the demon might not be able to fit through; that was something Niklaus hadn’t thought of.
“They’re locked at night,” said Sly. “The wardens don’t let anyone inside until daybreak.”
Niklaus unbuckled his sword belt and secured it around his hips. He drew his short sword and banged on the doors with the pommel, wincing in pain at his damaged hands. He could hear his hammering echo around a chamber inside.
“What wardens?” he said. “What are they warding? I thought this was a holy place.” He flicked a quick glance behind him. “There’s no sign of the demon . . . yet, but the mist could hide a herd of elephants.”
“What’s an elephant?”
“Never mind.” Niklaus continued hammering on the doors. “Is there another way in?”
“Only the sewers, if
you fancy a dip.”
There was a clunk and the sound of grinding gears. The doors opened a crack, revealing an elderly man with a straggly beard, garbed in a linen smock. He held a candle in one hand and squinted rheumy eyes at them.
“What is the meaning of this?” he sputtered. “This is the Tower of the Forgotten, and—”
As soon as the doors were ajar enough, Niklaus squeezed through them and ushered the old man aside. “Evacuate the tower if you can. There’s a demon on our trail, and it won’t be long until it gets here. Make yourself scarce; otherwise it will kill you.”
Ahead, at the far end of a chamber lined with stone statues, stood a wide staircase. It wound counterclockwise up the base of a cylindrical tower. Niklaus ran toward it, sword still in hand, boots clattering over the marble floor. He didn’t check if Sly followed. From now on, it was up to him to lure the demon to the highest point of the tower and throw it off. An eleven-foot-high horror baying for his blood.
Niklaus heard hurried steps behind him as he ascended the stairs and he gave a wry smile. Sly was brave enough to see this through. Or stupid enough.
Niklaus felt a dark sorcery growing outside the building. He frowned, not sure of what he was sensing through the gifts Sylva had bestowed upon him; then his eyes widened as he realized he’d made a possibly fatal mistake. What he felt was dark, deep, and primal: demon sorcery. The creature wasn’t just of a higher order, it was a rarity among its own kind.
If he had his journals, he might be able to . . . but he didn’t, and there was no time anyway.
“Run!” Niklaus shouted to Sly.
Before they’d even raced up half a spiral, a huge crash came from behind them as the sorcery unleashed and the solid wooden door shattered into matchsticks. Splinters and chunks flew through the air, some slamming into the old warden, who cried out in pain and crumpled to the floor.
An immense horned head jutted through the doorway, and massive shoulders slammed into the walls on either side, sending cracks shooting through the stonework. One more heave and blocks tumbled to the ground. The demon was inside. Its orange eyes looked straight at Niklaus, and it bellowed. Scarlet smeared its arms and torso, and blood and viscera dribbled from its mouth. It wiped crimson smears across the floor, and its long gray tongue lapped at the blood.
The warden cried out in fear and disappeared down a side corridor.
Shaking its head as if to clear it of the distraction, the demon whimpered, then turned to regard Niklaus. A faint violet glow covered its skin, which Niklaus recognized as a sorcerous shield.
“I see you,” it trumpeted, words malformed by its fanged mouth, but recognizable. “Come here.”
“Shit, shit,” said Sly.
“Run, you weasel,” Niklaus said. “And don’t look back.” Their blades would be useless against its shield.
As he spoke, the demon leaped. Graceful and lithe as a cat, it bounded across the chamber toward them, blocking any chance they could slip back outside. The only way was up.
Niklaus put on a burst of speed, pumping his legs as fast as he could. Sly caught up and overtook him. The thief’s face was pale and sweating, his mouth open in horror.
A quick glance behind confirmed the demon followed, fast, but not as quickly as it had rushed to the base of the stairs. It knew they were trapped. Its giant feet and hands left red smears on the floor and banister—the remains of its unfortunate victims.
“Follow my steps exactly,” said Sly as he continued his mad rush upward. The thief sprinted up the shadowy path, avoiding broken stairs, puddles, uneven cracks, reading the terrain at breathtaking speed. Obviously no stranger to fleeing in the dark in fear of his life.
Niklaus’s thighs began to burn, along with his lungs and throat. How high had they come? How much farther until they reached the top? It was their only chance to lure the demon over the side of the tower to its death, but it was lightning quick, and he couldn’t see a way to—
“Niklaus!” yelled Sly.
A whuff of fetid air gushed over them, stinking of sulfur and decayed meat. Niklaus reached for one of the vials in his pocket—and to his dismay found only one. He cursed. The other must have dropped out earlier. He had asked Matriarch Yolandi for more, but stable formulations were rare and expensive, and she’d already given him the last of her personal stash.
Niklaus turned just as the demon’s burst of speed brought it within striking distance. He flung the vial and it shattered on the step at the creature’s feet. Niklaus squeezed his eyes shut and covered his face with his arm.
The demon roared with pain as the stairwell filled with blinding light and intense heat. Niklaus jerked his head away from the alchemical reaction, stumbled and slammed his knee against the edge of a step. A sharp agony erupted in the joint, and he staggered away from the heat. Sly grabbed his arm and dragged him up, away from the bellowing demon.
Niklaus ran as best he could, his injured knee sending shooting pain through his leg. A few breaths later he couldn’t feel the heat from the alchemicals anymore, but his knee felt as if it were on fire. Only a faint light filtered up from below now, and they were shrouded in shadow.
“It’s not far,” Sly gasped. “One more flight.”
“I thought you’d never been here before.”
“I’ve been counting the steps and the windows. As agreed, I got you to the top. Now keep your side up and get rid of the demon. Think you can?”
“This isn’t my first demon, boy.”
“That wasn’t a yes.”
Niklaus’s plan required the second, now missing, vial. Maybe if he could anger the demon, force it not to think clearly, he might be able to goad it into charging. “I’ll think of something.”
“Shit.”
“Save your breath.”
Very quickly they heard the demon’s thudding strides and felt the stairs vibrating underfoot as it resumed its chase.
“There!” Sly said.
Up ahead, the stairs ended at a dark square. Pale light from the moon Chandra limned the opening, as if beckoning them toward it. Now all they had to do was reach it alive.
Niklaus continued to climb, his senses attuned to what was behind him as the demon closed the gap between them with alarming swiftness. If he didn’t come up with another plan, the demon would slaughter him. His name and dream would be gone. The irony wasn’t lost on him: he was going to die in the Tower of the Forgotten.
Sly drew a dagger and waved it in front of him. “Maybe we can delay it.”
“No chance of that,” Niklaus said. He took the last steps two at a time, ignoring the pain in his knee. He rushed through the doorway and the night sky opened up around him. Stars twinkled in the darkness. A sliver of Chandra looked down upon him, and thoughts of Sylva rushed into his mind . . . Niklaus pushed them aside, hoping she would forgive him.
“It’s right behind us!” said Sly.
Blood and damnation.
A low parapet surrounded a circular space. Niklaus grabbed Sly by the arm and pushed him away. The thief slipped into the shadows and became invisible. Niklaus hoped he’d stay out of harm’s way.
Niklaus ducked around the structure the stairs exited from. He limped to the far edge just as the demon burst from the stairwell. Its massive horned head swayed as it searched for Niklaus, making deep whuffing sounds like a furnace bellows.
The demon turned and caught sight of Niklaus. It was his first clear view of the infernal creature. It looked like the demons he’d previously encountered, but bigger and with more horns protruding from its head and back. A hard scaled skin covered it, and its taloned hands were knob-knuckled. They looked like they could draw blood from a stone.
The demon reared with feline grace, its mammoth head low to the ground, talons scraping across the stone. It bayed, a savage noise torn from its throat. Niklaus clapped his hands over his ears. His shoulders bunched; his neck hair stood on end. From this high, the demon’s cry would have been heard across the city. Around the tower, d
ogs began to bark and howl, and cats’ yowling joined the chorus.
Niklaus took a step back, but his heel hit the parapet. It was hundreds of feet down, and there was a demon focused on tearing him limb from limb. All his training, all his experience, hadn’t prepared him for a creature such as this. The sheer strength and savageness of the creature was like nothing he’d ever faced before.
There was no time left to him. It was now or death.
He drew both swords. They hissed eagerly from their sheaths. Niklaus ran at the demon, swords licking out, striking the demon’s shield—and bouncing off. Niklaus grunted, attacked again, searching for a weak spot. Its head was out of reach.
The demon roared and slashed at him. Niklaus ducked under the talons and pressed forward, his blades struck the shield and were rebuffed.
Then the demon’s hand smashed into his side. Niklaus flew through the air, then tumbled across the roof. His whole right side and arm went numb and useless. With a clang, his long sword slipped from nerveless fingers.
Groaning in pain, Niklaus dragged himself a few feet to the parapet. He struggled to his feet and turned. Bellowing like an enraged bull, the demon lashed out, talons whistling through the air. Niklaus ducked, crying out as agony from his injured side flowed through him.
A bottle smashed against the demon’s hide, splashing it with liquid. The strong scent caused the demon to snort, distracted for an instant. More bottles followed, shattering and dousing the demon with spirits, which trickled off and formed a puddle on the ground. It turned, and Sly vanished back into the shadows.
“No!” Niklaus shouted.
Immediately, the demon turned to face him, orange eyes squinting. Its sinuous neck twisted its horned head back and forth, as if it expected attack from another side. But sensing nothing, it fixed its attention on Niklaus.
“Come on, you ugly bastard!” Niklaus dropped his short sword and waved his arms frantically while lifting one foot and placing it on the parapet behind him.
Letting out a rumbling huff, the demon took a tentative step toward him. Niklaus put his other foot on the parapet and balanced there, still waving like a madman.
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