Fury of a Demon

by Brian Naslund

  Normally, seeing a man survive a volley of bolts would have sent Cabbage fleeing in the opposite direction, but in this moment—with an explosive behind his breastplate—Cabbage managed to dig deep and find a little scrap of courage.

  He stepped forward. Pulled his bomb free and wound the timer to five seconds.

  “Any man who’s still got a bomb needs to throw it!” he shouted, then took a step and heaved.

  His bomb clattered to the ground at Vergun’s feet. More followed. Vergun didn’t move, and he didn’t stop smiling. Just stood there amongst a chorus of ticking clocks.

  The first detonation set off the rest. Dirt and broken cobblestones blasted into the air in a massive geyser of debris that lingered in the air like fog.

  When it settled, Vallen Vergun was still standing in the wreckage of the fountain. His skin had been replaced by black scales that armored his body like dragon’s hide. The scales along his ribs and right arm were broken and bleeding, but otherwise the explosives that had turned a city wall to rubble hadn’t had much of an impact on him. The scales shifted away from Vergun’s face like mud being washed away by a blast of water.

  Beneath the scales, Vergun’s pale skin was unharmed.

  Cabbage decided this was a good time to run away. He turned around, but before he could take his first cowardly step, a group of Wormwrot sprang from hiding places at the edges of the square and locked their bone-white tower shields into a wall that blocked the path of escape.

  All around the square, the same thing happened to the other roads leading out of the square.

  They were trapped.

  “Nowhere to run, little rats!” Vergun called. “Nothing to do but die.”

  Vergun charged. Blurred past Cabbage with a howl and a thrash that put him on his ass. The warden who’d been standing next to him went down, too. His throat was torn open. Somehow Cabbage had only taken a deep rent across his breastplate. Didn’t make sense, seeing as Bershad had gone for a decent flight when he’d been hit. Maybe the bombs had weakened him?

  Cabbage didn’t know, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to run away.

  He struggled to his feet just as Vergun made another horrible tear through their ranks, leaving a score of headless men in his wake. Willem was shouting something. The wardens were grouping up, doing their best to form a defense against Vergun’s attacks. Dying and dismembered wardens were everywhere.

  Vergun charged again, ripping through their meager line and leaving another trail of fallen wardens. He turned back, horrible red eyes searching for a fresh target and landing on Cabbage.

  Shit.

  Vergun charged. Cabbage closed his eyes. Wondered if it would hurt to have his head cut off.

  Instead of finding out, Cabbage heard a bone-crunching thud, followed by a wet shudder.

  Cabbage opened his eyes. Bershad had stepped in front of him at the last moment. Vergun’s claw was buried in Bershad’s shield. And Bershad’s spear was rammed through Vergun’s chest.

  “You and I are gonna finish this,” Bershad growled, pulling Vergun closer. “Right. Now.”

  93

  VERA

  Castle Malgrave

  Concussions sounded off all over the city as Vera, Felgor, and Oromir approached a postern gate of the castle.

  “I have a prisoner who needs to be detained in the castle!” Felgor said.

  “Prisoner?” the guard asked, looking at Vera. There should have been five soldiers with him, but they’d been peeled off to defend the city. “Are you drunk? We’re under attack. Just kill her.”

  “No, Private. I will not just kill her. She’s a high-priority asset, suspected of having intelligence on the very attack we now face. Master Ward wants to interview her himself.”

  The mention of Ward sparked the guard’s attention, along with the realization that he was speaking to a high-ranking skyship officer according to the epaulets on Felgor’s shoulders.

  “Sorry, sir. I didn’t realize.” He moved aside to give Felgor access to the lock. “Go ahead and use your seal.”

  “Lost it detaining the widow. Bitches fight like demons, you know?” He motioned to his swollen eye. “Let me use yours. I’ll get a replacement after I dump this rabble off in the cells.”

  The guard clearly didn’t like that, but his hesitation was cut short by another huge concussion—far larger and closer than the others.

  “Fuck it,” he said, digging the seal from his pocket. “I’m going inside, too.”

  * * *

  “I told you, explosions turn people into morons,” Felgor said as they moved up the tower.

  “That guard is going to get suspicious eventually,” said Vera.

  “Anything happening eventually doesn’t really mean much to us. Now what level are the detention cells on?”

  “Thirteen,” said Vera. “But Kira won’t be there. He keeps her higher up in the castle.”

  “Jolan might be,” said Oromir.

  “And Ashlyn,” said Felgor. “Trust me, having her on our side will make this whole thing much simpler. She turned a hundred grayskins to tatters on that bridge.”

  “Fine,” said Vera. “Take this hallway to the end.”

  Felgor continued leading them up the tower. They passed dozens of soldiers and engineers, but all of them were moving through the castle with either a clear purpose or abject panic, and nobody paid them much attention.

  When they reached the thirteenth floor, Felgor marched into the detention area.

  “Is the queen of Almira in one of these cells?” he asked the lone jailer.

  “The queen of Almira?” the jailer repeated.

  “Yeah. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Has this metal thing attached to one arm.”

  The jailer swallowed. “You are not supposed to—”

  Oromir drew his sword and stabbed the jailer in the throat. The jailer reeled backward, taking the blade with him. Oromir hopped over the desk and grabbed a ring of seals from the jailer’s belt. Moved to the first cell and started trying seals. The first four did nothing, but the fifth opened the door with a clank and a shudder.

  “Empty,” said Oromir, already moving to the next one.

  Felgor wandered around the room. On one side, there was a big crate that he started rooting through, throwing gloves, armor, weapons, and other sundry items on the floor.

  “What are you doing, Felgor?”

  “This is where they keep prisoners’ possessions,” he said. “I wanna see if I can find some boots that fit me a little better. These are real tight. Hey, what’s this thing? Some kind of whip?”

  Oromir froze. He was standing in front of the last cell, the seal to unlock it in his hand. He turned to Felgor.

  “Those belong to the prisoners?”

  “Yeah, but I have no idea what this thing is.”

  “I do.”

  Oromir turned back to the last cell. Started trying seals again. Vera crossed the room just as he got the door open.

  Garret was inside. Chained to the far wall.

  Oromir’s face twisted up with rage. “Gonna kill you.”

  Oromir rushed into the cell. Started beating Garret to death.

  Vera shouted for him to stop. When that did nothing, she came up behind Oromir and put him in a full body lock, then pulled him to the ground. Even then, Oromir kept struggling and shouting.

  “He needs to die,” Oromir hissed.

  Vera tightened her grip. “If you don’t calm down, I’ll keep squeezing and you’ll lose consciousness.”

  That finally got him to go still. Vera relaxed her grip and let Oromir up, but she stayed between him and Garret. Blood was dripping down the right side of Garret’s face from where Oromir had been hitting him.

  “How’d you end up in here?” she asked.

  “I told Osyrus Ward that I killed you, as promised. Then you showed up and stole Kira.”

  “Ward didn’t appreciate the deception.”

  “No.”

  “Well, I did.”

&
nbsp; Garret shrugged. “So, you came back for your empress again?”

  Vera nodded.

  Garret turned to Oromir. “And you came to kill me?”

  “I came for Jolan. But I’ll gladly kill you on the way.”

  Garret’s face was unreadable for a moment. “Do it, if you want. But I’m willing to help you reach Jolan.”

  “We don’t need your help,” said Oromir.

  The sound of someone inserting a seal into the door rattled behind them. It started to unlock.

  “Felgor!” Vera hissed.

  “On it,” he said, moving to the door and jamming a tool into his side of the lock, which caused a groaning strain of gears. The door opened, but only a hand’s width. A man’s eyes appeared on the other side, scanning the area.

  “It’s them! Get this open.”

  The man’s face disappeared, and was replaced by eight gray fingers straining to force the door open.

  “You sure you don’t need my help?” Garret asked. “Because I’m the only one who can fill that whip with current.”

  Felgor gave it a test thump against the door. Nothing much happened. “Think he’s telling the truth.”

  Oromir fumed as he looked from the door to Garret and back to the door. He pulled a bomb from behind his breastplate.

  Vera stepped closer to him. “You need to save that,” she said. “Let Garret help.”

  The door jerked open another half stride.

  Oromir cursed, put the bomb away, then entered the cell and started trying the seals on the machine controlling Garret’s irons. “Once Jolan is safe, I am going to kill you.”

  “If you don’t move faster, the grayskin’s going to kill us all!” Felgor yelled.

  The door jerked halfway open. The acolyte shoved through.

  Felgor ran away from it, sprinting down the hallway as Oromir finally got the chains open. Garret was out of the cell before they hit the floor. He grabbed the whip from Felgor and slipped his hand into the grip. Squeezed.

  A ripple of current shuddered through the whip, bringing it to life.

  He snapped it around the neck of the grayskin. There was a blinding light and a hot pop.

  When Vera’s vision returned, the grayskin’s brains were all over the walls.

  There were four Wormwrot soldiers behind it. Garret snapped the whip across their faces, killing them in a single sweep.

  He turned around to face them. Energy still coursing through the cord. Vera relaxed her muscles. Got ready to dodge an attack, if that’s what Garret decided to do.

  But Garret cut power to the whip.

  “Kira’s chamber is the closest,” he said. “Follow me.”

  * * *

  Garret killed two acolytes and twenty-three Wormwrot on the way to Kira’s chamber. Left their steaming corpses littering the hallways and stairwells of Castle Malgrave. But when they reached the level directly beneath Kira’s chamber—which was a large, open room occupied by ten Wormwrot and five of Ward’s scurrying engineers—Vera stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

  “Leave me one of the engineers.”

  He nodded. Then went to work.

  When it was done, the whole room smelled like burning hair. The engineer Garret had spared was covered in the blood of his comrades and quaking with fear.

  Vera approached. Drew her dagger.

  “Please don’t kill me, I’m just a junior assistant!”

  “If you want to live, you need to answer my questions truthfully.”

  “Anything! I’ll tell you anything!”

  “How many acolytes are guarding Kira?”

  “T-T-Ten.”

  “He’s lying,” said Oromir. “Trying to scare us.”

  “I’m not!” the engineer piped. “After you k-killed the behemoth acolyte, Seven-Zero-Nine, Ward decided a single point of failure wasn’t the best strategy, so he stationed ten war acolytes around the room. All angles covered. Always.”

  Vera turned to Garret. Raised her eyebrow.

  “Ten is a problem,” he said.

  She nodded. Turned back to the engineer. “Is Ashlyn Malgrave in there?”

  The engineer shook his head. “Ward keeps her in the upper workshops.”

  “What about Jolan?” asked Oromir.

  “The alchemist boy? He’s up there, too. Ward is trying to unlock the system they built, but he’s having trouble. A huge amount of resources have already been diverted to the upper levels.”

  Vera tried to think. There was no way for them to get past ten acolytes. Just no way. Their best bet was to draw them out.

  She turned back to the engineer.

  “Do junior assistants have access to the upper workshops?”

  He nodded.

  “And do you know a route to the top that has as few acolytes as possible?”

  He thought about that. Lip quivering. “Through the amphibian experiments, then up through the tonic refinery. Ward doesn’t have enough acolytes left to guard low-priority workshops like that.”

  “Good.” Vera hauled the engineer to his feet and shoved him over to Oromir. “Lead these men up there.”

  She put a hand on Garret’s shoulder.

  “I need the acolytes drawn away from Kira.”

  Garret nodded. “I’ll get it done.”

  94

  CABBAGE

  Foggy Side Square

  Vergun struggled to wrench his claw loose from the dragon-bone shield while Bershad dug and twisted the spear deeper into his chest. While they were locked in that terrible embrace, several wardens tried stabbing and cutting at Vergun with their swords. Their blades bent and broke. Didn’t do any damage.

  Bershad’s spear was the only thing capable of breaking through Vergun’s monstrous hide.

  Eventually, Vergun managed to pull free from the shield, which sent both men stumbling away from each other in a spray of white bone shards and black scales. There was a big chunk of shield missing, and a massive hole in Vergun’s chest that closed in a heartbeat and was replaced by a circle of black scales.

  Some brave, stupid warden in an orange mask jumped on Vergun’s back, trying to choke him. He got his skull sheared apart for the effort.

  That put a stop to the heroics. Instead, the wardens formed a wide ring around Bershad and Vergun.

  “I’m glad you survived that little swim down the Gorgon,” Vergun said, circling. “After all the times I’ve tried to kill you, it would have been disappointing for the river to do it for me.”

  Bershad raised the shield and tucked his spear. “Make your move, asshole.”

  Vergun dashed forward. Cabbage couldn’t follow exactly what happened when they clashed together, but when they separated again, there was another chunk of shield on the ground, Bershad had a hunk of meat missing from his shoulder, and Vergun had a fresh hole in his stomach.

  Vergun’s wound healed in seconds.

  Bershad’s just kept bleeding.

  “What’s the matter, Silas? Running low on that demonic potency?”

  Bershad raised his shield again, grunting at the pain it brought.

  “Come on. Let’s finish this.”

  They clashed together again and again and again.

  Bershad skewered Vergun each time—through the stomach, the chest, even straight through his jaw once. All the injuries healed immediately.

  Meanwhile, Bershad’s shield got a little smaller each time. Wasn’t long before Bershad was holding a broken scrap of bone that wasn’t much bigger than a dinner plate. He was bleeding from the arm and thigh and neck. His shoulders sagged. Feet moved clumsy and slow.

  Vergun charged again. Pushed the scrap of shield away, then jammed his claw deep into Bershad’s belly. He dropped the spear. Vergun squeezed down on his guts, then shoved him backward, leaving a stream of entrails across the square.

  A few wardens charged. Got divided by Vergun’s claw for their trouble.

  Cabbage dropped to his knees. Tears filled his eyes.

  Bershad scuttled b
ackward, moving across the square. The ring of wardens parted to let him pass.

  Vergun followed him.

  “To be honest, I expected more of a challenge,” Vergun said. “Some great duel, the two demons of Terra, ripping each other apart while their armies watched!”

  Vergun raised his arms, as if basking in the cheers of some unseen crowd.

  “It was foolish of you to come for me,” he continued, dropping his arms. “You were never going to kill me.”

  “Wasn’t trying to kill you,” Bershad groaned. He pointed to the bell tower that overlooked the square. “I was just trying to get you in range of my friend.”

  Cabbage looked up, saw a flicker of white armor, and smiled.

  Simeon jumped off the tower and slammed the entirety of his weight and momentum onto Vergun’s shoulders, which dislocated them with a horrific crunch. Then he pulled Vergun into a bear hug and squeezed. Vergun thrashed and struggled against the hold. Simeon’s armor strained and wheezed against the pressure—scales and gears popping apart and bouncing along the cobblestones. But Simeon held firm.

  That’s when Cabbage saw something that shouldn’t have been possible.

  Silas Bershad stood up again.

  He limped toward Vergun, clutching his own guts against the remains of his stomach with one hand. He drew a bone dagger from his belt with the other.

  Rammed it through Vergun’s throat.

  “This is for killing Rowan.” Bershad ripped the dagger out of Vergun’s throat, slicing the tendons apart. “And for killing my donkey.”

  He grabbed a fistful of Vergun’s hair and yanked.

  95

  CASTOR

  Foggy Side Square

  Castor had climbed onto the roof of an abandoned coffeehouse to watch Vergun destroy the Jaguars, so he had a very clear view of the Skojit jumping off the bell tower.

  He had an even better view of Silas Bershad tearing Vergun’s head off.

  The decapitation seemed to sap the last of the dragonslayer’s strength. He fell to his knees. Dropped Vergun’s head and let go of his own guts.

  “Fuck,” hissed the man next to Castor. A sergeant named Wren. “Can Vergun heal from that?”