Fury of a Demon

by Brian Naslund

  The Skojit answered that question by stalking over to Vergun’s head and stomping on it repeatedly, until there was nothing left but a pile of red mush and black scales.

  “Not likely,” said Castor.

  “The fuck do we do now?” asked Wren. “If they all charge the same shield wall, they’ll run us down. Only reason they didn’t figure that out yet is ’cause Vergun was tearing them apart. Should we fall back?”

  “Soon as we break shields, they’ll charge,” said a private.

  “The armada’s coming,” said Castor. “All we need to do is wait for them.”

  “If we do that, we’re gonna get a bunch of acolytes dropped on us, and they’ll kill us same as the Jaguars,” said Wren, which was a valid point.

  “Pargossian standoff is what we got here,” said the private.

  “You made that up.”

  “No I didn’t,” said Wren. “It’s when you got a three-sided standoff.”

  “We got two sides.”

  “The skyships are the third side.”

  “Both of you shut up,” said Castor.

  Whatever the situation was or wasn’t called, it was a bad one. Castor looked at Vergun’s corpse, then at the dying Bershad.

  He thought of that island off the coast of Dunfar, and the gold he’d amassed through bad deeds with the hopes of buying it. Suddenly, he didn’t want the gold anymore. Or the island.

  He just wanted to do the right thing, for once in his life.

  “Hold positions,” Castor ordered. “I’m going down there.”

  96

  BERSHAD

  Foggy Side Square

  Dawn was breaking over Floodhaven. Skyship engines rumbled in the distance. Bershad was dying.

  Goll rushed over with a leather pouch. Pulled out a lump of Gods Moss.

  “Ashlyn gave me some for emergencies,” he said, pressing it into Bershad’s mouth. “Finally, I’ll repay the debt that I owe you.”

  But nothing happened. No warmth. No knitting of his entrails. Nothing.

  “What’s the problem?” Goll asked, frowning. “Did I do it wrong?”

  “No, it’s me,” Bershad groaned. “Got nothing left.”

  “Does that mean you’re gonna turn into a tree?” Simeon asked.

  “I doubt it.” He looked at the wardens who’d gathered around, concern and sadness in their eyes. “But you all might want to consider clearing out, just in case.”

  “What about the plan?” Willem asked.

  “If Vera and Felgor haven’t gotten into the castle by now, they aren’t going to. You did your jobs. No point in getting more of you killed. Rush one of those shield walls. Get out of the city before the skyships arrive.”

  Willem shook his head. “I’m not leaving you to die alone in this square, Lord Bershad.”

  “He doesn’t have to die at all,” came a gruff voice with a Balarian accent.

  Men raised swords as they turned around to find an enormous Wormwrot soldier walking across the square. He approached without weapons. Arms outstretched. Bershad recognized him from the battle at the warren, and from Deepdale.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Willem asked.

  “Castor,” he said. Then he looked at Vergun’s corpse. “Seeing as he’s dead, I’m in charge of Wormwrot now.”

  “Pretty foolish first move you’re making as the commander. You got about five seconds to live.”

  Castor shrugged. “You lot have a little longer, but not much.” He pointed to the horizons, which were now dotted with skyships. “They’re gonna fill this city with acolytes when they get here.”

  “You came all the way down here to give us the news and die with us?”

  “No.” He pointed at Bershad. “If you let me and my men go without a fight, I’ll save his life. Might be he can cut you a path out of this mess.”

  “Dragonshit,” Willem growled.

  Castor turned to Bershad. “Back at Deepdale, you gave me the chance to run away for free. I fucked that up. All I’m asking for now is a second chance. And I’m willing to pay for it.”

  Bershad nodded. “You have it.”

  Castor knelt by Vergun’s corpse and dug a needle out of his pocket. Tossed it to Bershad.

  “That was the only thing keeping Vergun from madness. I’m thinking it’ll have a different kind of impact on you.”

  Bershad tried to pick up the needle, but was too weak.

  “Got you covered, Flawless,” said Goll, grabbing it and injecting the contents into the side of his neck.

  The rush of regeneration flooded Bershad’s veins. His guts knitted back together in seconds. His muscles filled with the familiar strength of Gods Moss.

  “He truly is a demon,” muttered one warden.

  “I didn’t believe it,” said another. “Not really.”

  Castor just stared at him.

  Bershad stood up. “Why help me?”

  Castor shrugged. “Not like I’m some hero. Just trying to save my own skin. But I figure Terra’s better off without Osyrus Ward. And whether you’re a man or a demon or something in between, you’ve got the best odds of killing him.”

  Bershad motioned to the wall of dragon-bone shields. “Go.”

  Castor headed back the way that he’d come. The shield wall parted to let him pass. And a moment later, the Wormwrot dropped their shields and retreated down the avenues.

  “Any man who wants to follow their lead needs to do it now,” Bershad said, motioning to the skyships that were coming from all directions. “Might be you can get clear of this mess.”

  “Wormwrot might be able to fuck off like cowards,” said Willem. “But those skyships’ll hunt us all the way back the Dainwood. Personally, I’d rather die making a stand.”

  The rest of the wardens muttered agreement.

  Bershad nodded. Then he took a long, deep breath. If Jolan’s tincture had severed his connection to the Nomad, Ward’s seemed to be regrowing it. He could feel her again, somewhere to the south. The rush of cool air beneath her wings. The smell of boar blood on her claws.

  “I might have a way to even the field a bit,” he said, then closed his eyes and reached out to her.

  “Um, what’s he doing?” a warden asked.

  “I think he might be about to turn into a dragon,” said another.

  “That’s not how it works,” said Simeon.

  Bershad found her. She was two leagues up in the sky, and circling a bend in the Gorgon River that was lousy with turtles and wild boar.

  “Hello, old friend,” Bershad whispered. “Any chance you’re willing to help me out?”

  The Nomad stayed in her stubborn circle for a few moments, but eventually veered north, heading for him in a direct line.

  Bershad opened his eyes. Skyships were descending upon them from every direction, but the Nomad was flying twice as fast as they were.

  “Gather up those shields!” Bershad called to the men.

  Everyone rushed across the square to follow his orders. A few minutes later, everyone was back in a line, holding a dragon-bone shield. Willem held his up.

  “These are nice and all, but they won’t do much good if they bomb us.”

  “True,” Bershad agreed.

  The Nomad dropped from the rafters of the sky and slammed down onto the square—tail swishing and eyes focused.

  “But she and I are gonna make that difficult to do.”

  Bershad walked over to the dragon.

  “I know that I said I’d never do this to you. You’re not a fucking horse. But I promise it’ll just be the one time.”

  The Nomad blinked. Snorted. Then she lowered her head to the ground. He put his hand on the Nomad’s neck. The warmth of her gray scales flowed into his bloodstream and bones.

  Bershad climbed onto the back of the dragon.

  And she took him into the sky.

  97

  CABBAGE

  Foggy Side Square

  Everyone took a moment to stare at Bershad and the dragon as
they rose into the air.

  “Form up in the middle of the square!” Willem shouted, breaking the trance. “I need a circular shield wall and I need it right now!”

  Cabbage followed the orders, despite privately wishing that he had dragon he could ride out of this mess. The wardens seemed to click their shields together on instinct, but Cabbage struggled to get his lifted to the proper height.

  “This the first time you’ve made a fucking shield wall?” a warden hissed.

  “Yes! I’m a pirate, not a soldier.”

  He was still struggling when Simeon’s white gauntlet grabbed the top of his shield from behind and lifted it into the proper position.

  “Don’t worry about Cabbage,” Simeon growled. “I’ll make sure he stays in line.”

  Above, a skyship was burning directly toward them. When it was about a league away, Bershad and the dragon swooped in and sliced all of the cords around the levitation sack away, causing it to drop like a stone and explode against the rooftops. The second-closest ship saw what happened and veered away.

  But before it did, two hulking shapes dropped from the gunwale.

  “Were those grayskins?” Cabbage asked.

  “Not sure,” Simeon muttered.

  Ten seconds later, two grayskins careened out of an alley at speed, charging the shield wall.

  “Yup, those were grayskins,” said Simeon.

  “What do we do?” a warden down the line muttered.

  “Hold up your fucking shields!” Simeon shouted. “Hold ’em off as long as you can.”

  When the grayskins were fifty strides from their shield wall, they scattered in opposite directions. One of them hit the shield next to Cabbage with a shuddering impact that nearly tore Cabbage’s arm off. The men around him grunted and shouted. The grayskin screamed and clawed at their shields.

  Simeon reached over the wall and tore its head off. The grayskin crumpled.

  On the far side of their circle, the other grayskin broke through, stomping over two men and raking another man’s back apart. Simeon threw the head at the grayskin’s legs, dropping it to its knees. Then he charged over, picked up a fallen bone shield, and beat the monster to death with a series of curses and snarls.

  “We’re so fucked,” a warden next to Cabbage muttered.

  “No, we’re not,” Willem said, stepping onto the lip of the fountain. “Close that gap in the shield wall! Stay focused! We can fend them off so long as Bershad prevents them from coming at us in large numbers. Just need to give Simeon enough time to take care of them.”

  “Works,” said Simeon. Cracking his neck and holding the shield like a bludgeon.

  98

  JOLAN

  Castle Malgrave, Level 57

  Jolan sat alone in the workshop for a long time, listening to the skyship engines and the screams.

  Eventually, an acolyte came for him.

  “Follow,” it said.

  The acolyte took Jolan to a chamber high in the King’s Tower. Osyrus Ward was waiting for him in a circular room that was ringed by thick glass instead of walls. There were telescopes set up in various positions around the room.

  “Jolan. Welcome to my observatory.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I’ve brought you here so that we might watch the Jaguar Army’s destruction together,” he said. “They started off quite well, but I’m afraid the tide of battle has taken a turn. Please, feel free to observe through this telescope.”

  Jolan approached the telescope and looked down on the battle. His heart sank.

  The Jaguar Army had cut a swath of smoke and destruction through the city, but they’d been cornered in a big square, and were desperately trying to hold a shield wall together against the onslaught of the acolytes being dropped by the skyships. There were scores of corpses strewn around the square. Any of them could be Oromir. Any of them could be Willem.

  Three acolytes attacked the shield wall. Simeon killed one right away, but the other two ripped five wardens apart before Simeon got to them.

  The shield wall got a little smaller as men squeezed closer, filling the gaps left by their fallen comrades.

  The Nomad streaked across the sky above, heading directly at a combat ship. The ship turned and released a volley of ballista bolts, forcing the Nomad to duck away. Most of the bolts missed, but one of them tore a line of scales off her back, leaving a bloody ravine from shoulder to tail.

  She and Bershad couldn’t keep this up forever. And without their protection, the Jaguars would be dead in minutes.

  “They have lost,” Osyrus said. “But they need not all be killed. Unlock Ashlyn’s arm, and I will allow them to leave the city with their lives.”

  Jolan squeezed his fingernails into his palms, trying to think.

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?”

  “Because I respect you, Jolan. I respect your intellect, and your accomplishments. I have no desire to kill the warriors in that square, I just want access to Ashlyn’s apparatus.”

  Jolan knew that Osyrus was lying. But he also remembered what he’d said before.

  Everyone breaks eventually.

  Ashlyn would resist Ward’s torture for as long as she could. She might last days, even weeks. But she would break. Ward was simply using the Jaguar’s destruction as a chance to expedite access to her power. One way or another, he was going to get what he wanted. The only question was time.

  But if Jolan could get into the room where Ashlyn was being held and connect her to the astrolabe, there was a chance she could escape before Osyrus took control of her. A small chance.

  “You win,” Jolan whispered. “I’ll unlock her.”

  “A wise decision,” said Osyrus.

  Jolan’s mind rushed to come up with a reasonable explanation for what needed to happen next, but he knew he couldn’t hesitate. Better to say what he needed and explain it later.

  “We had an astrolabe with us on the bridge. I need it back, and I need to see Ashlyn to unlock the bands. We paired the two systems together.”

  “Impossible. We recovered no such tool.”

  Jolan knew that Ward was calling his bluff. His only option was to double down.

  “You brought me back here on the remote chance I could prove useful, but left our tools on the bridge? We are both extremely intelligent people, Osyrus. Spare me the dragonshit. I can’t unlock Ashlyn’s arms without that astrolabe.”

  “That means that should you lose the astrolabe, you would also lose access to her power forever. Why subject yourselves to such a risky requirement?”

  “I would have thought that was obvious,” Jolan said, stalling for time to come up with a decent explanation.

  “It is not obvious to me.”

  Think. Think. Think.

  “We did it to prevent this exact situation from happening,” said Jolan. “We knew it was possible for one of us to give up the code, but pairing it with an object makes the system impregnable. It was Ashlyn’s idea. I’m the only other person who knows about it. The only person she trusted.”

  Jolan hung his head in manufactured shame. Osyrus smiled.

  “Very well, Jolan. You’ll have your precious astrolabe. Follow me.”

  99

  ASHLYN

  Castle Malgrave, Level 60

  Osyrus had been telling the truth. His spiders were tireless. They’d been shocking her for hours and hours.

  Each shock was slightly stronger than the one before it. At first, they made Ashlyn’s stomach twist and her teeth grit. Now, they made her bones burn. She was drenched in sweat. Her fingers were shaking.

  Ward came and went. He would occasionally remind her the torture would stop as soon as she unlocked her arm, but Ashlyn stayed silent. Eventually, he became impatient and called for one of his lackeys.

  “Stay with her, Nebbin,” Ward had said. “Let me know when she breaks.”

  Then he’d stormed off.

  That had been hours ago. Nebbin alternated between adjusting d
ifferent dials and switches on the wall of machinery and watching her with distracted curiosity. The acolyte who still guarded the room stared at her blankly, as her breaths came out ragged and wet.

  Ashlyn was trying to decide if it was still worth the effort of trying not to piss herself when Osyrus Ward returned. He’d brought Jolan with him.

  “Anything?” Ward asked Nebbin.

  He shook his head.

  Ward snapped his fingers. The spiders stopped their electrical onslaught.

  “Jolan,” she said, relief flooding her body, both from the sight of him and the ceasing of the shocks. “Are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” He swallowed. “Ashlyn. The Jaguar Army is being slaughtered in the city. I don’t have a choice.”

  Ashlyn glanced at Osyrus, then back to him.

  “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no. You can’t unlock it.”

  “They’ll die,” Jolan pressed.

  “If you do this, Osyrus will kill far more people than the ones fighting in Floodhaven. Please, Jolan. You have to see the bigger picture.”

  Jolan’s eyes were glassy. He knelt next to her. “You always saw the bigger picture, Ashlyn. And you were always stronger than me. But I can’t bear to watch any more of my friends die.”

  Ashlyn expected him to start turning her bands in the unlocking sequence, but instead, he removed the astrolabe from the pocket of his robes. Set it down next to her.

  “I’m going to reverse your kill switch,” he said. “I’m sorry, Ashlyn.”

  She realized what Jolan was doing. And she saw the part that she needed to play.

  “You weak fool,” she hissed as he wired her to the astrolabe. “You coward!”

  Jolan didn’t respond. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. She had no idea the boy was such a good actor.

  Once the astrolabe was connected, Jolan started turning her bands in the thirty-seven-step reactivation sequence.

  Ashlyn used the time to quiet her mind. To focus. She didn’t know how much time she would have to find a viable lodestone loop in the room, but she knew it wouldn’t be long.