The Spirit Eater tloem-3

by Rachel Aaron

  The moment he stepped inside, the sunlight winked out. It was as though the cave’s mouth was a line the sunlight could not cross. Eli blinked in the dark, letting his eyes adjust. Slowly, he saw that the cave was piled with boxes, all made of the same gray, flimsy wood, and all of them unmarked. There was one right by Eli’s feet, and he nudged it experimentally. Whatever was in the box, it was horribly heavy, for the crate didn’t even budge, but the wood on the outside fell away in flakes, completely dead. Eli would have investigated further, but Karon was burning in his chest, reminding him to keep moving.

  Careful not to touch the fragile boxes, Eli edged his way past the stacks and started deeper into the cave. He walked for some time, stumbling in the thick, heavy dark. The cave floor was uneven and tilted upward, climbing toward the mountain’s peak. Eli crept low in the dark, keeping as silent as he could, but they didn’t see anyone, or anything, until suddenly, after nearly an hour of climbing, the cave opened up again. Eli blinked in the sudden brightness. The cave let out onto a cliff high above where they’d entered. He’d crossed the mountain as well, and as best as Eli could tell he was now on the opposite face from where he had entered, looking north. The view was spectacular. He could look down for miles on the peaks of the lesser mountains, snowcapped and silent in the afternoon sunshine. It was actually quite pretty, and Eli stood a moment, enjoying the scenery, until Karon made a little, terrified noise. Eli whirled around, arms up, ready to take on whatever demonseed or cult thrall was surely about to jump them. But there was no one. Just another view.

  Eli stood and stared, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He was looking down on a valley, a long, straight stretch between mountains just like the approach he’d taken to the Dead Mountain, only this valley obviously should not have been there. No natural formation of stone could have made a valley that straight. It ran like a road from the foot of the Dead Mountain due northwest, and wherever a mountain got in its way, that mountain was sundered, ripped apart in long, terrible gouges until only sheer cliffs remained.

  “What happened here?” Eli’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “I don’t want to know,” Karon whispered back. “But one thing is certain. Something ate those mountains.”

  “Ate?” Eli said. “What do you mean, ‘ate’?”

  “Look at the valley floor.”

  Eli looked, squinting to make sense of the tumbled impressions beneath the drifts of snow. Slowly, the random shapes came together to form enormous craters. He could see the great ripped-up places where mountains had been, but now nothing was left except piles of boulders, their faces as black and dead as the slope Eli stood on.

  Eli swallowed. “What eats a mountain?”

  “I already said I don’t want to know,” Karon rumbled, pulling farther back inside Eli’s body. “It’s like the demon of the mountain itself escaped and made a run for it, eating everything in its path.”

  “Come on,” Eli said. “If that had happened we’d all be dead. But you’re right; something came out.” He crept closer to the cliff edge, his eyes following the trail of destruction north and west toward the horizon. “I wonder where it was going. The only thing north of here is the Shaper Mountain.” He frowned, contemplating. “And I wonder what stopped it, and why I haven’t heard about it. I would like to think I’d know about something that eats mountains.”

  Karon’s burn began to singe. “Let’s just go.”

  Eli tore his eyes away from the destruction and set back to the task at hand. The path between the two cliffs was steep, narrow, and open. Had there been wind, the crossing would have been impossible, but this being the Dead Mountain, Eli was able to pick his way along the narrow going with little trouble. After a hundred feet, the path began to jackknife, taking them steeply upward toward the Dead Mountain’s knife-sharp peak. They saw no one as they went, not a guard, not a cultist, not a seed, nothing but dead stone and air. They walked so long Eli began to wonder if he’d missed something, for they were quickly running out of mountain. But just as he was about to suggest they turn around, the path ended abruptly at the mouth of a cave.

  Eli stopped in his tracks. This was not like the cave they’d come in through. That at least had been somewhat normal, just an opening in the stone. This was like looking into a pool of ink. No light penetrated past the stone’s edge. Instead, the cave’s darkness seemed to press outward like a living thing, moving subtly just beyond what Eli could see. He stared into the blackness, waiting for Karon to say something, but the lava spirit was silent. For a moment, Eli seriously considered turning back, but the idea of having to explain to Josef that he’d chickened out gave Eli the burst of courage he needed. With a final breath of the cold, thin air, Eli lurched forward and stepped into the dark.

  The blackness swallowed him as soon as he moved. All light vanished, and for a moment Eli stood there groping like a blind man. He was on the edge of turning back around when he realized that, despite this, he could still see. The dark was total, and yet it did not obscure his surroundings. He was standing at the apex of a large, circular cave. Perfectly circular, he realized, as though it had been cut into the stone with inhuman precision. The floor was smooth underfoot, the black stone polished to a slick edge except for the pattern cut deep into its surface. Eli followed the grooves with his eyes through the strange not-dark, biting his lip as the familiar symbol came into focus. It was Benehime’s mark.

  Eli swallowed. Now that he knew what he was looking at, what he saw directly ahead of him suddenly became much more terrifying. At the center of the room, standing at the place where the lines of the Lady’s mark came together, was a man. He was dressed in the same dark robes as the cultists of the valley below, but unlike them, this man was not stooped or downtrodden. He stood straight and haughty, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that only emphasized how skeletally thin he was, and his eyes glowed with a cold light that illuminated nothing.

  For a long, long moment, no one spoke. Eli stood frozen at the edge of the circle, his boots just touching its outer border. Karon’s mad fear was burning through him, mixing with his own until the urge to run was so strong it was physically painful to remain still. But Eli did not move. He stood his ground, clamping down as hard as he could on the terror while Slorn’s voice played over and over again through his head.

  Demons feed on fear.

  After almost a minute of silence, the man at the center of the circle began to chuckle. “Very brave, little favorite.”

  Eli winced. There was something horribly wrong with the man’s voice. It was far too deep for his thin frame, and there was something wrong with the tone. It was like an inner harmonic was missing, leaving only the shell of a voice. But even the strangeness could not mask the power that reverberated through it.

  “You did an excellent job getting past my servants,” the man said. “Of course, since I knew weeks ago that you were coming, you needn’t have bothered. They had orders to escort you up.”

  “How hospitable,” Eli said slowly. “And who are you?”

  “Come, now,” the man said, laughing. “You know who I am. Your little lava spirit certainly does.”

  Eli crossed his arms over Karon’s burn, shielding the terrified spirit. “Humor me.”

  “My kind do not indulge in the conceit of names,” the man said, walking forward. “But my children call me the Master of the Dead Mountain.”

  There was something horribly wrong with the way the man walked. It was jerky, unnatural, like there was something inside his skin moving just a hair faster than his flesh.

  “Of course,” the man said, stopping a bare inch from the edge of the circle, so close Eli could smell his flesh rotting. “Your mistress gave me another name.”

  “Yes,” Eli said, making sure he was firmly outside the circle of the Shepherdess’s seal. “Demon.”

  “There.” The strange, horrible voice hummed with satisfaction. “Was that so hard?”

  The demon smiled at Eli’s sour
look and turned on his heel, marching back across the seal with that horrible jerky walk until he was at the opposite side of the cavern. “As I said, I knew you were coming, and I know why you’re here.” The demon put out his hand, brushing the wall where it touched the circle’s edge. All at once, the stone began to change. It sank away from his touch in places and rose to meet it at others, forming an intricate carving of tiny mountains, valleys, and seabeds across the curve of the wall. Eli watched in amazement as a perfect map of the world emerged from the dark stone, and not just the Council Kingdoms, but the Frozen Lands of the far north and the great realm of the Immortal Empress herself, far across the Barrier Sea. As the land took shape, other things appeared as well. Small, black shapes seeped from the black stone. Round, multilegged buglike things with shells like liquid tar. They rose from the stone and crouched on the continents, tiny antennae quivering whenever the demon’s hand passed near.

  “Here,” the demon said, stretching up to point at one particularly large black beetle crawling far to the east of the great black point marking the Dead Mountain, somewhere in the coastal foothills of the Sleeping Mountains. “This is where you’ll find Sted. If you hurry, you might even catch him before that bear-headed friend of yours does.” He looked at Eli, his face all concern. “And I would hurry. Between the two of us, Slorn doesn’t stand a chance.”

  Eli just stared at him, utterly speechless for once in his life. This encounter had taken a sharp turn from horrifying to bizarre. “Wait,” he said. “Wait, wait, wait, what are you doing?”

  The demon looked hurt. “I’m helping you.”

  “Yes,” Eli said. “Why?” He pointed at the map, so confused he almost stretched his arms over the seal before he caught himself. “Why show me this? Why tell me where Sted is? You know I can’t possibly trust you.”

  “You came here specifically to see this map,” the demon said, dropping his arms. “If you can’t trust me, why did you even bother?”

  Eli snapped his jaw shut. He couldn’t tell the demon that spying on the map would have made the information much more trustworthy than having the thing presented to him. But what was really getting under his skin was how much the creature knew. How did the demon know they were after Slorn? How had it known he was coming? It was a powerful, powerful creature with a wide network of spies, so he was willing to accept a certain amount of omniscience, but this was getting downright uncomfortable.

  “Come now, Eli,” the demon said when the thief’s silence had stretched on too long. “You and I both know I’m your last shot. Old Gredit won’t tell you anything without payment. I’m giving you this for free. You can either take it and save your friend or go back to stealing kings and stocking that charming little museum of a town you keep as a monument to your own audacity.”

  “How do you know all this?” Eli shouted. He regretted the words as soon as they were out. If there was anything he knew about demons, it was that you never showed them a weakness. But if all his secrets were hanging in the open air, he had to know how.

  Across the blackness, the creature inside the puppet suit of flesh grinned wide. “My dear thief,” he said. “A father sees everything through the eyes of his children, and my children are very, very watchful.”

  Eli’s stomach dropped to his feet as everything fell into place. “Nico.”

  The creature smiled wider still. “First rule of thievery,” he quoted. “The last place a man looks is under his own feet.”

  Eli took a step back. “I’m going now,” he said, keeping his voice carefully flat. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t thank you for your help.”

  “I never expected you to,” the demon said with a toothy smile. “Good-bye, Eli Monpress. I’ll be watching.”

  Eli’s mouth twitched, but he kept his face blank. He walked backward, his eyes locked on the demon’s glowing gaze until, at last, he reached the cave mouth. The afternoon sunlight hit him like a hammer, and Eli stumbled, blinking in the brightness. As soon as he could see again, he was off, sprinting down the mountain as fast as his legs could carry him with no care at all for how much noise he made.

  “I don’t believe it,” he hissed. “She’s been playing us for fools this whole time. How could I have been so stupid? Awakening and going back? Skipping through shadows like it’s nothing? She’s been his little creature this whole time, and I ate it up. I believed that drivel about fighting for her humanity. She’s nothing but a little spy.”

  “Eli,” Karon said in a warning tone. “Remember that the demon is a trickster. You can’t trust anything he says.”

  “Trust has nothing to do with it,” Eli snarled. “He made his case clear enough.”

  Karon’s heat flickered under his skin. “What are you going to do?”

  “First, I’m getting off this mountain,” Eli said, slowing down to navigate the thin strip of path between the cliffs where he’d stopped before to gawk at the horrible destruction left by the thing that ate mountains. “Then, I don’t know. Nothing at first. Josef is going to be the linchpin in all of this. I’ll have to break it to him slowly.”

  “I still don’t understand why,” Karon said. “Why would the demon put all this energy into spying on you?”

  “Because I’m the favorite,” Eli said bitterly. “Because I’m the greatest thief in the world. Because spirits listen to me whether I want them to or not. Because I’m the key to Benehime, who locked him up in the first place.”

  “Then why would he let you know he was watching?”

  “I don’t know!” Eli shouted. “There are so many angles going on, I don’t know which way is up anymore. But trust me, I’m going to find out.”

  “Just watch out you don’t break your team when you do,” Karon muttered.

  Eli had no answer to that. He plunged ahead, racing for the tunnel he’d taken up here from the cultists’ encampment. He was so intent on getting off the demon’s land, he didn’t even notice the enormous storm clouds on the other side of the mountain, blackening the entire mountain range where he’d left Josef and Nico.

  CHAPTER

  10

  When the Lord of Storms’ sword cut into Josef’s back, Nico lost control. She raged against the pressure holding her down, muscles burning as she fought to stand and attack the smug man made of storms who stood over Josef. She wanted to rip him open, to eat him whole, to punch that smug look off his face.

  All she managed was to lift her head a fraction off the stone before the Lord of Storms’ command slammed it down again.

  She turned her cheek against the ground with a frustrated sob. She was so worthless. Across the ravine there was a soft, wet thump as the Lord of Storms turned Josef’s body over with his boot. She heard the hateful sound of his haughty voice, followed by Josef’s hacking cough. Nico began to shake. She couldn’t even lift her head to see him, but she knew, completely and instantly, that Josef was dying. He was dying, and she couldn’t save him. Couldn’t do anything.

  She stopped, holding her breath. This was where the voice would speak, offer her power. But her head was silent. The waiting stretched on. She could hear the Lord of Storms telling Josef to stand. Stand and face his death. She heard Josef moving, the great ringing sound of the Heart as he thrust it into the stone to pull himself up. The horrible shallowness of his breath as his life bled out of him.

  And still, the voice stayed silent. All she could hear was the pathetic, doomed sound of Josef’s breathing as he stood to face his death. A death she couldn’t even turn her head to see.

  Suddenly and without warning, a rage like she’d never felt ripped through her. If this was how it ended, why was she holding out? What did any of her sacrifices mean if Josef died? The Lord of Storms would kill her as soon as he finished Josef. Why was she even trying?

  A good question.

  Nico gritted her teeth. Fine. She didn’t care anymore.

  “You win,” she whispered against the stone. “Give it back.”

  The words hung in the air, hea
vy and irretrievable. Slowly, languidly, the voice answered.

  No.

  Nico choked. “But you said—”

  You want power? Power to save your swordsman?

  She nodded.

  Then prove it. Beg.

  Something inside Nico began to tremble. “What?”

  Beg for Josef’s life. The voice spoke each word slowly, pointedly. My gifts are for obedient children. You’ve been quite the pain in my side, little lost seed. If you want my help, beg for my forgiveness.

  Nico’s breath came in shallow, tiny gasps. Across the silent pass, she could hear the crackle of the Lord of Storms as he raised his sword, hear the soft drip of Josef’s blood as it hit the stone. She had no more time.

  She squeezed her eyes shut with a sob and pressed her forehead into the ground.

  “Please,” she whispered, dragging the word out like a vital organ. “Give my power back. Let me save him.”

  Deep in her soul, she felt the voice smile. Say it.

  “Please,” Nico whispered again. “Master.”

  Pain and power hit her like a wall, and the world went black. Nico screamed as her body wrenched itself from the stone, a high, keening sound that grew less and less human with each passing second. Inside her, the seed rose like bile, clawing its way to the front of her mind as deep, triumphant laughter filled her ears.

  The Master’s voice wiped out all other sound. Welcome home, little slave.

  The last thing Nico saw was Josef’s face, pale and horrified, before the blackness ate everything.

  Nico’s scream echoed off the icy walls, repeating over and over in the frozen silence. For a long moment the three of them, Josef, Nico, and the Lord of Storms, stood frozen, and then Nico began to change. Her shaking stopped. She grew taller, her skeletal body rounding out, muscles forming under skin that was no longer pale but growing dusky and hard. With a horrible crack, her broken bone reset itself as her arms stretched out, her fingers lengthening and sharpening until they barely looked human at all. But the worst by far was her eyes. It nearly made Josef sick to watch. Her eyes were stretched wider than any human’s should be, the dark irises fading behind an eerie yellow glow.