Halfway to the demon stone walls, Deckard joined alongside her.
“Not far now,” said Deckard. “I can see the walls over the rooftops.”
Elaine sailed overhead, flying on feather sprites and guided by strings like a kite. She called to them.
“What’s the plan?”
“Those walls.” Melissa pointed at the black barriers with her spear as Elaine descended to land ahead of them.
“Good,” said Elaine. “Then what?
Deckard scowled.
“Normally I'd have us call on the most powerful magic we have to blast him into the well. I suspect that’s not going to work against an ascended demon.”
“That means...” Elaine’s jaw dropped. “Saben is that monster?”
“He must have tried using Azel as a sacra form,” said Deckard.
“That changes things,” said Elaine. “We need to try to save him if we can.”
“Why?” said Melissa.
“He’s just a human. He wanted revenge on a maladrite but now I don't think he can stop himself.”
“We’ll take that beast down one way or the other,” said Deckard.
Elaine nodded.
“Melissa, do you still have your iron bane?”
Melissa felt the sturdy bane in her palm where she held the spear.
“Yeah. It didn't transform with the others.”
“If we can get you to the demon's chest, possibly we could blast it out.”
The demon rampaged toward them, smashing buildings into rubble.
The three of them ran. Melissa helped Elaine move faster, holding her arm as Deckard glided alongside them. Despite her sprites and Melissa’s help, Elaine began to fall behind. She darted into an alleyway.
Deckard toward Melissa.
“If she can't keep up. She must go another way.”
Melissa nodded. I’m not losing another friend today.
“A demon like Azel is a greater threat when it’s enraged.”
“We made it pretty angry,” Melissa agreed.
The demon stone walls loomed ahead, just a block away.
“If we get him close we can trap him against them,” Deckard said. “If we inflict enough pain he’ll abandon that form.”
“And that will be the end of the fight.”
“Right,” said Deckard.
The two of them led the demon toward the walls. The huge black structures rose before them, the box to hold the beast.
Deckard glanced at Melissa.
“Careful with your here,” he said. “That stone is almost entirely unbreakable.”
“He can't break it either,” said Melissa.
“Only the most powerful demons can break demon stone,” said Deckard.
“He’s a demon, though.”
“And so are you, in your sacra form, but don’t think that means those walls will fall.”
Melissa circled within the walls, turning toward the massive demon prowling toward them. He moved slower now, growling low in his throat. The sound became deafening as the demon drew near.
The demon howled. A wave of sound blasted Deckard and Melissa. They both flew off their feet and smashed into the demon stone. The unyielding black stone bounced Melissa onto the cobbled street. She shook, rattled, but with her pain mostly covered by the form of Fanhedon and her iron skin.
Melissa got to her feet. She turned to Deckard as he drifted to the ground.
“I have an idea,” she said.
Deckard waved to her.
Melissa jumped toward the top of the walls. Despite the lack of feather sprites, she made it to the top in one leap. Planting her feet, she faced Azel.
The demon leapt, sailing over the buildings and streets toward the wall. He clung to the side and swatted at her with his claws.
She hurled her spear. The reinforced point sliced through his hand and smashed into his shoulder. Blood weltered into the streets below but the demon did not change.
Deckard appeared beside her, then darted away in an instant. He appeared beside the demon's head and delivered a punch to the demon’s skull. The demon flew from the wall, his fingers pried free by sprites. He tumbled onto the street between the two sections of unyielding wall.
Whatever broke these walls, Melissa thought, was stronger than this demon. She caught her spear when Deckard hurled to her.
She spun and then jumped onto Azel. The demon writhed as Melissa landed squarely on his chest. She thrusting her spear toward his heart.
Such a blow killed the king of Nassio and can kill you too, Saben.
Fear filled Azel’s huge eyes. A creeping sense of doom approached Melissa from within. Claws crashed together, trying to swat Melissa. She danced away along his belly, leaving her spear impaling the demon through the chest. Not deep enough, she thought, as she darted forward and retrieved the weapon. Blood welled her from the weapon’s point.
Melissa stood on Azel’s stomach. Another set of arms swung overhead. More limbs appeared before her. She darted out of their reach and delivered a strike to the demon’s side.
Deckard landed. His sprites and banes sliced into the demon's flesh, drawing blood from dozens of wounds. The demon swore, writhed, and raged. Explosive sound waves smashed against the demon stone walls. The reverberations came back at them.
“No,” the demon rasped. “I do not die.”
Deckard pinned down more demon limbs. Melissa for her spear. The fatal blow still must fall.
She seized the weapon, but before she could strike, another demon stepped into view, a face identical to the massive demon beneath them.
The new Azel grinned.
“I'm not Saben,” he said. “That thing below still is. I can live without him at last. So kill him if you can.”
The demon sprang off his larger copy and dropped to the ground. Melissa grimaced. She hurled her spear after him, piercing the back of one knee.
Melissa turned to Deckard. She couldn’t ask her question before Deckard nodded.
“I can exorcise Saben,” he said. “You get the other one.”
“I’m going.” Melissa leapt from the huge demon's chest and landed beside the smaller Azel.
The demon worked her spear out of his leg. He whirled and threw it back at her. She caught the weapon as the point slashed across her forearm.
She looked at the wound of broken metal as all too human blood pooled within it.
Azel grimaced.
“Looks like we're evenly matched for the moment,” he said.
Melissa motioned them closer with her spear.
Saben
Saben opened his eyes.
He lay on a street of cold stone all of it drenched with black fluid.
Deckard, Hadrian offer him his hand.
“Get up,” said Deckard, “you caused enough trouble. Time to help solve it for once.”
Saben grimaced. He grabbed the immortal’s bloody hand. Deckard pulled him to his feet as easily as one would lift a child.
“What happened?” asked Saben.
Before Deckard could answer, a wave of memories flooded Saben’s mind. He recalled everything the demon had done using him as a host. He recalled the destruction rock across the city. He recalled losing control. He hated the feeling of the demon dominating his mind. He turned to Deckard.
“Now I remember.”
Deckard motioned toward a shadowy figure following feminine shape made of polished steel and holding a spear. Fanhedon, Saben remembered.
“That demon of steel,” he said, “Is that Melissa?”
“Yes,” said Deckard. “She finally achieved her sacra form.”
Saben felt his back. The worst damage there was the discoloration of his clothes from the black fluid left in Azel’s wake. The spear wounds and other damage inflicted during his time as Azel were gone.
“I exorcised the demon,” said Deckard. “You should recover, physically.”
Saben took a step toward Deckard. He glowered at the black mass around them. What remai
ned of the buildings around the two demon stone walls were coated in viscous demon remains.
“You two stopped me.”
“Together, yes. Now...” Deckard turned his back on Saben. “...We need to finish the fight.”
Melissa
She turned Fanhedon's emotionless mask toward Azel.
Azel met her gaze with a ferocious glare that morphed into a hideous smile.
“It's just like old times, another demon, come to stop me. Another demon envious of my power.”
“I'm no demon,” she said.
“You also fell, Fanhedon?”
Fanhedon spoke for Melissa.
“Yes, I am a sacra form now. AS you were.”
The demon grunted.
“I’ll put you out of your misery.”
Azel wrapped his hands around a piece of debris, a board, fallen from the building. He lifted it in two bizarrely angled forearms.
“I will win this fight.”
“No,” said Melissa. “You won't.”
“And who will stop me? You? I contain a multitude of beings. That is my power as an ascended demon. I can take as many forms I need.”
“You can shapeshift?”
“I can replicate,’ said Azel. “As I have already done. There will be more than one Azel in the city soon. We will spread across the world. We will enjoy our freedom, our rebirth.”
Melissa faced the demon down the length of her spear, it’s length already coated in black blood. The weapon’s tip still gleamed bright.
“I believe you'll try your best to escape,” she said, “but I'll have to stop you.”
“Try,” said Azel. He leapt at her. His teeth bared. His claws rippled through the air. His board swung at her spear. She broke the shard of debris to splinters with a single strike of her weapon.
The demon bowled into her, avoiding the point of the spear. Claws rained down on Fanhedon’s armor. Melissa rolled over and over, battling Azel, losing her spear in the process. She fought hand and fist against the might of Azel's four massive limbs. He continued to grow, and she watched additional arms sprout from his back. He’s replicating.
No, Melissa thought, I have to stop him. Her ability to fight one demon like him would be moot if he created a copy.
The demon pounded Fanhedon’s face. Azel's claws tore at the masked sacra form’s armored helm.
Azel rebounded. Melissa’s head smashed against the cobblestones. She remained conscious and alert despite the pain. She lashed out, taking Azel to the ground. She sprang up. Fanhedon’s dagger-like heels planted in the dirt where cobblestones had been worn away. She delivered a solid blow against Azel. He flew backward, skating on dislodged stones.
Melissa charged after the demon, moving erratically. Her vision began to blur.
Fanhedon spoke in her mind.
“He did me much harm,” said the demon, “Such blows would have killed you.”
“I know.” Melissa took a deep breath and jumped at Azel. Her blows rained upon him. His claws lashed out, tossing her backward. She braced for the impact and struck the wall of a building nearby. The wall collapsed behind her. Her steely limbs fell limp. For a moment, she used the only strength she had to stay standing.
“I must go,” said Fanhedon, “good luck my young ally.”
“No,” said Melissa, “I can't do this without you.”
“You must,” said Fanhedon. “The pain is too great.”
“You said I would die if I took a blow from him,” Melissa said, “don't let that happen.”
Fanhedon grimaced mentally.
“I'll try what I can,” her sacra demon said. “Azel is too strong, an ascended.”
Melissa staggered forward as the demon rounded on her once more. Azel pounced. Halfway through the air to her, a cloud sprites entangled him. His legs skidded backward, landing on cobbles and tearing up more stones. Elaine stood behind the demon, holding a lash of her sprites.
“I’m not too late,” she panted.
“Perfect, actually,” said Melissa. She retrieved her spear from where it had fallen and turned to face Azel once more. Her iron bane reinforced the weapon. She hurled it at the demon. The point passed through Azel's back and pinned him to the stone of the hill’s slope. He fought to stand. Saben and Deckard joined Melissa and Elaine. Saben grasped his greatsword in both hands. He drove the weapon through the demon's head. The blade carved flesh and bone. The demon seized in rage and slashed in every direction.
Deckard shot bane darts through the demon’s arms and legs, pinning his limbs to the ground.
The demon screamed. Melissa's ears rejected the wretched, terrible sound. She hated it and the sentiment of the ancient spirit, reborn in an infantile fury. The demon does not deserve to scream. Melissa thought of the destruction in the city and her dead friend. She wanted to roar in rage. She wanted to hurt this demon beyond belief itself.
“Keep attacking,” said Deckard. “We need to hurt him as much as we can.”
They delivered strikes and blows, hammering pain upon pain to bring the demon’s agony to an ultimate point. Melissa used the last of the strength left in her sacra form and dropped onto the demon's chest to start tearing at his flesh with Fanhedon’s gleaming fingers. Her demon limbs ripped through flesh and bone toward to ventricles. Blood gouted everywhere. She lost her grip. The demon faded from her body. Melissa became herself.
She had to return her iron bane to her body just keep her feet. She continued smashing the demon's head into the stone, blow after blow, anger turning into force. Azel collapsed on himself. Finally, his body vanished into the air. He had fallen.
All that remained was a single scroll rolled up in the center of the stains of blood. The script gleamed black, the color his blood.
Deckard picked up the scroll.
He turned to Melissa and Saben.
“One must never take a demon lightly.”
Elaine ran to Melissa’s side as she pulled herself off the humanoid stain where the demon fell. Melissa gripped Elaine’s hand tightly. Her other fist clenched and unclenched. She looked down at her hand, bloodied and raw, and stained with black from tearing at the demon's body. Seemingly the only evidence of Azel now remaining beyond the black gore was the hate in her heart and stench in the air.
“It's over,” said Elaine.
I know, said Melissa softly. “I just...”
Elaine patted her shoulder.
“I know,” she said, “it took too much to get here.”
Folt
The waves lapped against the hull of the lone fortress ship as it cut its way up the bay toward Nassio. Absent the king and with Havindas wounded and resting, Folt served as captain for the moment. He watched the shoreline through the slits in the metal dome. No one was coming after them.
He turned from the helm, grateful to Voratome Drake for his gift of success. After losing all of the other members of the fist, and the reptile king who had been there supposed master, Folt felt lighter than he had in a long time.
Only the memory of the fear in Suya’s eyes dogged him. He hated the way she’d stared, hated the words she’d said. He—
A voice from below the helm interrupted his thoughts.
“Folt is your name, is it not?”
The voice belonged to a stranger and was accompanied by the quiet, discordant song of countless banes.
Folt looked for the speaker. At the stairs to the main deck stood the figure of a slim being, humanoid, androgynous, naked.
The sound of the bane song made him unmistakable.
“You are Drake’s scion?” said Folt.
The youthful, almost feminine face turned toward him.
“Yes.”
“Have you any idea why your father wanted you brought to the surface?”
“He thinks I belong here.”
“We paid a heavy price to retrieve you,” said Folt. “All the more, that puts me at your service.”
“And I in your debt,” said the demon scion. “I am, after a
ll, only half-demon. I would never have escaped the wells alone.”
“I know,” said Folt. “But you are the master here.” He fell to one knee in full view of the young demon.
The pale face of the demon turned red.
“Please, no need.”
“Forgive me, but there is a need,” said Folt, rising. He motioned to the ship and the crew. “You see, you are now the King of Nassio.”
All around them, the remaining Vakari bowed to their new liege. The demon looked about, then nodded to each one in turn. He said nothing, but one by one the lizardmen arose and went to their work.
The ship continued north in a kind of reverent silence reserved for temples in mourning, and discipline rarely found at sea.
Saben
Jaswei and Rond followed him as he trudged toward the mires of Linien. The bay was aflame with conflict, so they stuck to the seaside roads of Lowenrane rather than go by water. Havindas could not have sold his sister and the other villagers into slavery in Tancuon. Once they reached the marshes, Saben and the others would turn east once more.
He grumbled a curse on the uncertainty of the vakari roads and canals that lay ahead. His eyes searched the bay for ships. So far, nothing remained on the horizon but blue.
Jaswei touched his shoulder.
“Look,” she said, pointing toward the beach a quarter-mile away. A young boy and girl supported each other as they marched north. Jaswei inhaled sharply. “Is that?”
Rond shook his head.
“They’re trouble, for sure.”
Saben folded his arms, then left the road to approach Heen and Rina. The children who helped form the Fist of Havindas hardly looked threatening, alone and wounded. Rond stifled his disagreement with a groan. Jaswei ran ahead, waving to the two on the beach.
“Hey,” she called, “Over here!”
Heen turned toward them, tears visible in his eyes as they draw closer. Rina’s stance went taut and defensive. Heen limped toward Saben and Jaswei.
“What happened to the others?” Jaswei asked as they drew close.
“Deel,” said Heen, “he’s dead.”
“Uigara and Folt?” asked Saben.
“Don’t care,” said Rina.
Demon Scroll Page 39