The Spirit Eater tloem-3

by Rachel Aaron

  She fell to a crouch, her arms and legs spread out around her like a spider about to spring. When she opened her mouth, now horribly stretched to accommodate a growing set of jagged, razor teeth, the sound that came out wasn’t human at all.

  “You came to catch a demon, Lord of Storms,” the creature hissed. “Not butcher a man. I am your opponent now.”

  As she spoke, something else rode beneath the words, spreading through the canyon in an invisible wave. It struck Josef’s mind like a night terror, a primal fear that went to his core. He was not alone. Above him, the mountains began to shake, the stone squirming and sliding over itself in terror. Josef stumbled as the ground beneath his feet turned to jelly, and it was only with the Heart’s help that he saved his back from another slam as he went down. The whole pass was shaking now, forcing Josef to scramble for cover as boulders began to slide down from the cliffs. Within seconds, the whole ravine was thrashing in terror, all except for the place where Nico stood.

  The ground below Nico was no longer dull gray stone streaked with ice, but coal black and bone dry. Even in the dark it stood out from the surrounding, panicking stone. It was a blot, a circle of dead, quiet nothing spreading from her feet, and as it grew, so did Nico.

  She’s eating the mountain. The Heart’s voice boomed in Josef’s head. You have to stop her.

  Josef flinched at the edge on the Heart’s voice. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said the sword was afraid. He started to ask how he was supposed to do that when another voice crashed through his mind, crushing every other sound.

  Don’t move.

  The ravine froze. The mountains froze. Nico froze. Even Josef went perfectly still. Stones hung frozen in midfall and dust stood suspended in the air. Nothing dared to move. On the opposite edge of the pass, the Lord of Storms lowered his hands with a grim smile. His body was going fuzzy at the edges, little bits of his clothes fading back and forth from cloud to flesh while his sword flickered in his hand, the blade flashing between metal and a curved bolt of lightning.

  Josef’s eyes widened. He tried frantically to get his sword up, but he could no more move than he could hear the spirits’ voices. However, the Lord of Storms seemed to have forgotten him entirely. His attention was only for Nico.

  “You,” he said, his voice thick with something very close to joy. “It is you, isn’t it? I always knew. I always knew you weren’t dead. I had no proof, but I knew.” He threw out his empty hand and another sword, a perfect twin of the blade he grasped in his right, flashed into existence. “Now”—his face broke into a monstrous grin—“now we finish what we started.” He raised his swords for the charge. “Daughter of the Dead Mountain!”

  Across the frozen pass Nico screamed, a horrible sound of loss and mad anger woven through hundreds of voices, and vanished. She exploded from the shadows behind the Lord of Storms an instant later, her claws going for his back, just as he had struck Josef. The Lord of Storms turned without moving. One second his back was to her, and then his body flickered and he was facing her, meeting her blow with both blades, his face mad with joy as they crashed in a shower of sparks.

  * * *

  The Lord of Storms swept his swords with a roar, cutting a great gash in the mountainside. Nico dodged easily, flitting up through the shadows to the cliff top before launching herself down again, claws going straight for his unguarded head. She laughed as she flew, reveling in the intoxicating freedom of her power. Everything was so easy, so fast. Strength pounded through her limbs, banishing the pain, the fear, the constant worry. With all the power flowing through her there was simply no room for thought, no time for it. All that existed was her, the power, and the threat who must be killed. What did it matter if she couldn’t stop to remember why?

  She landed on the Lord of Storms with a gleeful scream, rending him from shoulder to ankle before he managed to flash away. For an intoxicating moment she could taste him on her fingers, a sharp mix of electricity and compressed power. Oh, what she could do with that power if only she could get more.

  “You’ll find me hard to chew, monster.” The Lord of Storms’ voice echoed through the ravine, and Nico turned just in time to see him blink back into existence, whole and uninjured as always.

  Nico frowned. Had she spoken out loud? Well, no matter. He’d chosen a bad place to reform; his back was full to the shadows. She grinned wide and prepared for another jump.

  The Lord of Storms lowered his swords. “How much longer will this farce go on?”

  Nico shifted, unsure at this new ruse.

  “The years you spent in starvation with the thief must have damaged you,” he said, thrusting his sword at her. “This is barely worth my time. Look at you, nearly human, too weak to even damage my human shade. Any of my League could cut you down as you are now.”

  Nico answered by slipping through the shadows behind him, leaping at his open back. He spun and met her halfway, lightning swords cutting deep into her wrists. She screamed in pain and danced back while the Lord of Storms looked on with disgust.

  “I have seen you hover in the sky on impossible wings,” he sneered. “Blacker than night and larger than the mountain that spawned you. I have seen you eat Great Spirits like a wolf eats rabbits. Do not insult me by pretending at this weakness!”

  He vanished only to reappear behind Nico, his long swords pressed against her throat. “Let go,” he hissed in her ear. “Let go and we shall fight as never before. I have been hobbled and bored these past years, a slave to that woman’s fancies. Give me something to feel alive again or I will kill you here.”

  Really, my Lord of Storms? You would sacrifice the lives of innocent spirits for a good fight?

  “Really, my Lord of Storms?” Nico whispered, her throat fluttering against the swords as she breathed. “You would sacrifice the lives of innocent spirits for a good fight?”

  The blades at her neck drew closer. “Spirits are sheep,” he said bitterly. “Stupid, panicky creatures. I am the Shepherdess’s dog, sworn to keep predators from the flock. If a few sheep are killed in the wolf catching, what does it matter? So long as the wolf is killed, the dog is free to do what it likes. And it’s been so long since I had a real challenge.” The blades drew closer still.

  Nico flitted away, emerging from the shadows at the other end of the ravine clutching her bleeding throat. Deep in her mind, a feeling of wrongness nagged at her. She shouldn’t be doing this, but why? It was so hard to concentrate.

  Forget it. The Master’s voice flooded her mind, cold and dark and reassuringly strong. You’re home, Nico. You don’t have to think anymore. You don’t have to try. Go to sleep. Put yourself in my hands and I will awaken you to your full potential. Then we’ll see if our dear Lord of Storms stays so cocky.

  Nico almost cried as the relief washed over her. She’d been fighting for so long, what or how she couldn’t remember, but she felt the tiredness in her bones. But everything was different now. The Master was with her. She could give in. Already she was relaxing into the welcome dark. As she sank, she could hear a girl’s voice screaming, crying. It sounded so familiar, but Nico couldn’t be bothered to turn and see. She was so tired.

  There’s a good girl.

  Just as the last bits of her mind began to sink into the dark at the heart of her soul, something extraordinary happened. All at once, the mountain silence was broken by a deep, ringing gong. The sound of it shook the ground below her feet and forced her eyes open. Across the ravine, the Lord of Storms stood against the cliff, a surprised expression on his face and the great iron length of the Heart of War sticking out of his chest, pinning him to the stone like a butterfly on a board. For a second, all was still, and then, with a great rumbling roar, the Heart’s spirit burst open, and the weight of a mountain slammed down.

  Nico went down flat on her back, pinned to the icy stone, unable to move. Even the Lord of Storms was still, crushed by the mountain’s weight. A few feet from her, at the edge of the ravine, a man pushed himself
to his knees, then to his feet. She watched him get up, amazed that he was moving, for he was covered in blood. He stood a moment, steadying his large frame on his shaky feet, and started to hobble toward her, his scarred face terrifying in its determination.

  “Nico.” His voice was as bloody as the rest of him. “You told me you would never give up.”

  Nico hissed and struggled, but the mountain’s weight held her flat. The man didn’t seem hindered at all. He limped over and fell to his knees beside her. “What you’re doing isn’t fighting,” he said softly. “It isn’t moving forward. It isn’t making anyone stronger. So long as you want to keep trying, keep fighting, I’ll fight beside you. But if you’ve truly given up, then I’ll save the Lord of Storms the trouble and kill you myself.” He sat back and met her eyes with a calm, serious gaze. “Are you still with us, Nico?”

  Somewhere inside her, deeper than the dark she longed to escape into, deeper than the Master’s iron, undefeatable power, a tiny, sobbing voice answered, “Yes.”

  “Then take another breath,” said Josef. “And come back.”

  Don’t listen, the Master said. He’s sabotaging you. He doesn’t want you to be stronger than him.

  Nico pushed the voice down with a firm mental hand. “No,” she said.

  She spoke with her own voice now, the small, pathetic thing crawling up from the depths it had been pushed into, and all at once, her spirit poured open. She ripped the darkness that had claimed her mind, shredding it to nothing, pushing free. Her body convulsed against her, clinging to the strength, the power, but she threw the demon gifts away. The second she cast them aside, the pain flooded back, and she screamed in agony as her body withered back to its true, bony shape. Her vision went dark as the nightsight left her, and her eyes burned as the demon light faded. But even as she transformed from powerful being to shuddering wreck, Nico began to sob with relief. Despite all odds, despite the terrible pain, she had not lost herself. She was still human.

  Well, mostly.

  When she could open her eyes again, she looked down at her once broken left arm, squinting in the dark. What she saw didn’t surprise her, but knowing made it no less terrifying. There, growing out of her shoulder where her left arm should have been, was a demon claw. Its skin was as black as the Dead Mountain, and the curled hand had claws instead of fingers. The limb was awkward and ugly, far too long for her small body. Experimentally, she tried moving it, and the pain that followed sent spots dancing over her vision. When she could breathe again she clutched the arm to her side as best she could under the Heart’s enormous pressure, belatedly trying to hide the hideous thing from Josef.

  But Josef just looked at her with dry interest. “Can’t change it back?”

  Nico shook her head.

  A reminder—the Master’s voice was hard and cutting—of what you threw away. When will you learn, idiot girl? You can’t stop being what you are just because you say so. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine, and I will have you in the end.

  “Not if I can help it,” Nico grumbled, less sure than she would have liked.

  We’ll see. The Master’s voice sweetened. Just remember, I didn’t force this on you. You begged to have your power back. It’s only a matter of time before you beg again. When that happens, Nico, there will be no turning back.

  To make the point, her demon arm began to burn. Nico clutched it to her side, closing her eyes against the sudden tears of pain. Josef stayed on his knees beside her, waiting patiently until she opened them again.

  “I’m sorry I can’t let you up yet,” he said, his voice straining. “The Heart’s the only thing keeping the Lord of Storms from ripping us both apart.”

  Nico nodded, glad that she had an excuse to stay on her back. “What are we going to do?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Josef said, grabbing her coat and tossing it over her.

  The coat began trying to wrap itself around her as soon as it landed, but Nico paid no attention. “We have to treat your wounds,” she said, eyeing the blood on the ground with growing fear.

  “I’m fine for now,” Josef said. “The Heart is helping me. It’s been carrying me this whole time.”

  Nico shook her head. “Still, you have to do something before—”

  Josef raised his hand sharply and she snapped her mouth shut, confused. Then she felt it as well. Deep below the crushing weight that held her down, something was pushing back. Overhead, the dark clouds churned in a great vortex, flashing with lightning as a howling wind blew ice in horizontal sheets across the ravine’s top. The stone cliffs began to groan as the Heart fought back, but the storm was quickly growing into a hurricane, and the Heart, powerful as it was, was still just a sword.

  With a scrape of metal, the black blade slid out of the stone, landing with a resounding clang at the Lord of Storms’ feet. As it fell, the mountainous weight vanished, and the Lord of Storms stepped forward, his face pale as lightning and contorted with rage. He walked toward them, growing larger with every step as entire pieces of his body swirled between solid flesh and looming storm. His swords were no longer even a semblance of mundane weapons, but two controlled bolts of hissing blue lightning clutched in his hands.

  “I’m through playing,” he said, his voice true rumbling thunder as he raised the lightning in his hands. “This ends now.”

  Nico could only stare at the bright death coming toward them, but beside her, she felt Josef start to stand. Of course, she thought, he would never sit for his death. Jaw clenching, Nico started to stand as well, clutching her useless black arm as she struggled to her feet.

  The Lord of Storms began to charge, raising his lightning swords with a shout of pure rage as he barreled toward them. Standing beside Josef, Nico squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the strike.

  But the blow never came.

  She waited, confused, before slowly opening her eyes. Then she blinked them again, not sure of what they showed her.

  Eli stood between them and the Lord of Storms. He was still in his black thief suit, and he was standing with his arms out, perfectly still. The Lord of Storms was still as well, his lightning blades a scarce half inch from Eli’s forehead.

  At first Nico didn’t understand why the Lord of Storms had stopped, or how he could have stopped a blow with such momentum. Then she saw it. Just above Eli’s head, sticking out through a white line in reality, was a pure white hand. It reached through the air, the long, shapely fingers clutched around the Lord of Storms’ lightning swords. The ravine was deathly silent. Nothing made a sound. Even the Lord of Storms was still, a horrified expression on his white face. In the stillness, a second line appeared beside the Lord of Storms, and another white hand shot out to grab him around the throat. The Lord of Storms made a frantic, choking sound, and then, in the space it took to blink, he was gone. The Lord of Storms had simply vanished. The white hands were gone too; so were the dark clouds overhead and the howling wind, leaving them alone in the now silent ravine.

  Eli turned around, taking off his mask. “You all right, Josef?”

  Josef looked at him a second and started to say something, but before he could get out a sound his eyes rolled back in his head and he toppled over, landing on the stone with a horrible, folding crunch.

  “Josef!” Nico and Eli cried together, dropping to their knees beside the swordsman.

  “Powers,” Eli muttered, looking around. “I didn’t know he had this much blood in him.” He reached down and grabbed Josef’s shoulder, grunting with effort as he lifted the swordsman to get a look at the wound on his back. When he saw it, his face went white.

  “His back is filleted,” he said, turning to Nico. “How long did he fight like this?”

  “I—” Nico stopped, shuddering as she remembered the dark haze that had consumed her mind for part of the fight. “I’m not sure. Things happened quickly.”

  Eli looked at her, but not like he usually did. Not slyly or openly or with one of his too congenial smiles. No, he looke
d at her like he was seeing her for the first time, and Nico felt something clench inside her.

  He knew.

  He knows everything, the voice whispered.

  At her side, the black, monstrous arm began to burn, and Nico clenched it closer under the drape of her coat, glad that this at least was hidden from Eli’s piercing glare.

  Finally, Eli turned his eyes back to Josef. “We need to get him medical attention,” he said softly. “And we’re not going to find that here. Let’s start with getting him to the Heart. Where is it?”

  Nico pointed across the ravine to the great crater in the wall where the Lord of Storms had been pinned. It was so dark now she couldn’t even see the Heart’s shape on the ground, but she could feel it, a large, angry presence in the dark.

  Eli nodded and slid his arms under Josef’s. “Help me. He’s a lug, but we’ve a better chance of moving him than the Heart.”

  Nico nodded and moved to Josef’s feet, grabbing one with her good arm and one with her demon claw through her coat. If Eli noticed the strange arrangement, he gave no sign. Together, grunting with effort, they lifted Josef off the ground and shuffled him over to his sword. They nearly dropped him when they reached it, but found the final bit of strength to put the swordsman down gently before flopping on the ground beside him, panting.

  “I like the muscles more when he’s the one carrying them,” Eli groaned, leaning back against the shattered cliff face. He reached out and wrapped Josef’s hand around the Heart’s hilt. The unconscious grimace on the swordsman’s face eased at the contact, and his breathing grew less shallow, but he still looked deathly pale.

  “We have to get him to help,” Nico said.

  “I know that,” Eli snapped, whipping his head to look at her. “Where are your manacles?”