But then I am struck by the demon’s mental command to rise, and I cannot resist. Like a loyal hound, Iraven springs to his feet and leaps to the demon king’s defense. My spear brothers rise less gracefully, but already their spears and shields are rising to point at my friends.
Alagai Ka has directed me to rise and confront Darin, but his attention is divided. I feel his irresistible will, but he is not in control of my limbs, or inside my head. I put my hands under me, crawling as I stumble to my feet. Not so far as to appear suspicious, but far enough to hook the armlet with a finger as I rise. I twist slightly to hide my arm from the demon’s sight as I clasp the armlet about my biceps and press my thumb against the tip of the little spear, shedding blood to seal the lock.
I can sense the demon’s injunction, but now the ward keeps his will at bay. Still I obey, feigning the same glassy look I’ve seen on other Sharum under demon control.
Alagai Ka wants me to smile at him. To reassure him. To draw him close, and then…
I shudder. What if the demon has already corrupted part of me, like he did Iraven? My brother did not know he was the demon king’s agent in the day. What if Darin lets me in close, and my body betrays me?
It’s a risk I have to take. By using Alagai Ka’s plan, perhaps I can buy just a few seconds more before the demon realizes he no longer controls me.
“Dar, it’s me.” My words are the barest breath, but even through the din of battle around us, I know he can hear them.
Darin remains wary as I take a step forward. He skitters back a step, lifting his mother’s knife, razor-sharp and hot with magic. “Think I’m stupid?”
I smile and spread my arms to show my empty hands—and the armlet. I see his eyes flick to it, and he relaxes slightly, but he does not lower the knife.
“I didn’t respect you like I should have, Darin Bales, but I never thought you were stupid.” I smile, giving him a secret wink. “Smart enough to make this look good.”
I ball a fist, but give him time to slip aside, revealing the game. I don’t pull the next blows, but I don’t need to. Slippery and at full speed, I can’t lay a knuckle on him and we both know it.
“Give me your knife.” I whisper the words under the sharp breath I blow out with my next punch.
Darin dances back, suddenly wary again. “Not a chance.”
Around us, the fight is raging. Selen puts a spear into Gorvan’s thigh, but if the big warrior even feels it, he gives no sign. He leans into the blow, whipping his shield across to crack her in the temple.
She stumbles, and my brothers bear her down, tossing aside her hora weapons and pulling off her helmet.
“Darin, please,” I breathe. Our window is fast closing. Soon all of us will be overwhelmed.
Arick is a strong fighter. Given a few years’ experience, he could be truly great. But he is no match for my brother. Iraven is through his guard in two moves, burying his spear in my cousin’s guts. Arick falls onto his back, desperately trying to keep his insides from spilling out.
Iraven raises his spear to finish the job, but Micha lets out another shriek, checking him. The grit must be shredding her throat to produce that grating wail, but it has the desired effect. Alagai Ka keens, and for a moment, his human drones waver.
Micha wastes no time, sprinting for the demon king, but even as the others under Alagai Ka’s control hesitate, Iraven intercepts her. The keening sound the demon is making must trigger commands planted deep in his subconscious to defend his master from harm.
Micha cannot maintain the cry as she moves to defend against this new foe. There is a chain at the end of her sickle, weighted at the end with a clenched, skeletal fist. She tangles it around Iraven’s spear, pulling it aside and moving close to strike with the sickle, but Iraven catches the blow easily on his shield.
Alagai Ka recovers, and so, too, do his human slaves. Rojvah catches the arm of the first to reach for her and strikes him in the throat with stiffened fingers as she twists to throw him into a stalagmite.
But the next is upon her before she resets. Her bone hanzhar takes his hand off at the wrist, but the crippling wound does nothing to stop him as he throws his arms around her, and more add to the press, pulling away her protections against the Father of Demons.
Darin sees it, too. He glances at Selen, on her feet and part of a wave of warriors coming for us. For a moment, his defenses waver, and I tackle him to the ground.
He’s slippery as ever, but I’m not trying to hold or harm him. Just to get through. “Pipes,” I grunt as we roll in the filth. “Give me the knife and play your pipes.”
Darin says nothing, but he solidifies, offering little resistance as I twist the knife from his grip. I reverse my grip, hiding the blade with my forearm, away from Alagai Ka.
Micha has managed to divest Iraven of his spear. It lies a few feet from them, tangled with her sickle and chain. She fights instead with a bone flail, but it is ineffective against Iraven’s shield. I see his arm dart behind his back, pulling a punch dagger from his belt.
I want to cry out as he bats her weapon aside and moves in, but Alagai Ka is watching their battle, and I dare not draw his attention as Darin raises the pipes to his lips.
The sound comes just as Iraven drives his punch dagger into the center of my sister’s chest. A jarring series of notes, impossibly loud, drown out my scream as I take two steps forward and throw the knife with all of my strength.
Alagai Ka again puts his taloned hands to his head, twisting to look our way. As the blade sails end over end toward his bulbous head, Micha coughs blood, dropping to her knees.
The demon’s eyes widen, and he reacts faster than I would have thought possible, sketching a glowing defensive ward in the air before him. A normal weapon would bounce off it as surely as striking a wall.
But Renna Bales’ knife is no ordinary weapon. Powerful wards are etched along the blade and its bone handle, which glows like the blessed weapons of sharik hora. It flies through the barrier as easily as air, burying itself in the side of the demon’s head.
Alagai Ka’s mental whispers, vibrating in the air all around us, suddenly cease. Selen and my spear brothers, closing in on us, fall limp again.
Even Iraven comes back to something of himself. “Sister?” He reaches a hand out to Micha, but she slaps it aside. The gesture is enough to take her balance, and she falls over, aura dimming fast as blood continues to pump from her body.
Every fiber of my being wants to go to her, to stem the flow of blood, or simply to hold her close.
My nanny, my tutor, my true sister, is dying, and I should be with her.
But Alagai Ka isn’t dead, yet.
I try to embrace the pain, but it is impossible, so I let it out, screaming as I turn away from her, charging the demon king as he staggers backward, grasping blindly for the handle of the knife. His leathery fingers sizzle and smoke as they close around the warded bone. Still he perseveres, hissing and snarling as the ash-gray flesh on his hand chars black.
The knife doesn’t come free with the first tug, and I am there before the second, punching the demon hard in the head. He reels from the blow and I turn a full circuit, smashing the armlet against the opposite side of his skull. There’s a satisfying impact and a flash of magic as the mind ward connects.
I press the assault, hitting as hard and fast as I can, always focused on the demon’s conical skull. The only hope I have against this creature is to keep him dazed and off balance until I can get hold of the knife and cut off his head.
Already, Alagai Ka is adapting. Bone and leathery skin thicken, toughen, protecting his brain from new blows while his innate magic heals the contusions from the old.
I catch hold of the knife handle, blade still stuck lengthwise in the thick bone of the demon’s skull. I yank the handle back and forth, and feel a rush of pleasure as Alagai Ka shrie
ks in agony. Feedback magic kicks up my arm, driving off the pain and exhaustion as I step around the demon to put him in a submission hold.
Darin circles us, wrapped in his warded cloak as he plays his pipes. The demon shrieks and thrashes, jerking the blade loose from his skull. I bury it in his throat, instead, but lack the leverage to sever his neck.
Rojvah lends her voice to Darin’s pipes. Again the demon tries to keen, activating Iraven’s conditioning, but he chokes on steel and ichor, instead.
I glance at Iraven, on his knees, staring down numbly at Micha’s cooling form.
With renewed strength, I push the blade deeper into Alagai Ka’s throat. The price of killing him is already too high, but anything less dishonors my sister’s memory.
The demon’s burned hand latches on to my wrist, his grip grinding the bones against one another. I bite down, channeling the pain into power as I resist his pull, muscles vibrating with the strain.
But even with the knife stealing some of the demon king’s magic and feeding it to me, I can no more match this ancient creature’s strength than I can his will. Slowly, he draws the blade from his body.
It doesn’t matter. Alagai Ka cannot see Selen, wrapped in her Cloak of Unsight, enter the fight. She charges in from the side, the point of her blessed spear aimed at the demon king’s jutting ribs. I need only hold him a moment more. When she strikes, I will stop resisting the demon’s pull, tearing the knife free to cut off his head once and for all.
But whether by a sixth sense or one of the five, again the demon senses the attack in time to react. He twists with savage strength, putting me right in the path of the oncoming spear.
Selen attempts to pull the blow, but there’s too much force and too little time. I feel it punch though my robes and deep into my side.
“Night, Sel!” I cry.
“Sorry!” Selen shouts, but she doesn’t lose focus, letting go her spear and dodging around me to press the attack before Alagai Ka can escape. She balls a fist, and I see she is wearing the chained bracelet of warded rings that she bought in the Majah bazaar all those months ago. Her punch strikes like a thunderbolt, shattering the demon’s jaw before he can keen again.
The bone spearpoint in my side doesn’t hurt, but there is a…wrongness to its presence in my body, like a pebble in my sandal. I dare not pull it out. Even if I don’t bleed to death, it may have struck something vital. Like Micha and Chadan, I may be a martyr to this cause.
The Sharum pray for a glorious death fighting alagai. They dream of it. We lost ourselves in the fantasy of it every night before charging into the Maze. But now that I am faced with one, I don’t want it. I want to kill Alagai Ka. I will die in the attempt if I must. But in my heart, I want to live.
I twist the knife, doing as much damage as I can as Selen pummels the demon. Alagai Ka is stronger, but I have leverage in my hold, and keep his hands from covering his ears as Darin and Rojvah continue their musical assault.
My spear brothers are recovering from the demon’s control, groaning and fumbling their helmets back on. Some have already gotten groggily to their feet.
There is no time to coddle them. “To arms, warriors of Majah! Sharak Ka is upon you! We have Alagai Ka! Kill the Father of Demons, and earn everlasting glory!”
The words snap them to attention, awakening the hope that lies at the heart of all warriors—to be remembered in deed long after they have taken the lonely path.
Many still have their spears. Others pull secondary weapons—warded knives, batons, hatchets. Some have only their fists. But all of them move toward the mind demon, and my hopes begin to rise.
Just a few moments more, and it will be over. But still the demon forces out my wrist, inch by agonizing inch, until at last, Renna’s knife slips free. The moment the weapon’s point is drawn from its flesh, Alagai Ka dissipates, slipping into the greatward and riding it to Creator knows where.
Selen and I collapse into each other as the demon vanishes. I scream as the spear tears from my body and we hit the ground.
“Sorry, Olive!” Selen says again, holding me close as she puts pressure on my wound. Charged with magic, the wound clots quickly, but I don’t know what internal damage there might be.
All of us cast about, searching. The demon might still be close, or he could be licking his wounds a thousand miles away in Safehold.
A sound rises in the void between stalagmite mounds, like autumn leaves blown by a hurricane. A flight of wind demons the size of barn owls swarms out of the darkness, filling the air with leathern wings and lashing talons.
Selen covers us as a demon slams into her bone shield. It gives a piercing cry, scales scorching black, and before it can escape, I sever one of its wings with the knife.
A clatter of talons is the only warning as a storm of sand demons flow around the stalagmites like water.
I pass Selen the knife and take up her spear, the tip still wet with my blood. “Warriors of Majah, form around me!”
My brothers know their work, forming a shield wall with me at its center, surrounding Darin, Rojvah, and the wounded. Those without shields cluster inside the shell, ready to assist as warriors fall, or alagai get through. Selen takes my right side, Faseek and Gorvan my left. Even Arick is on his feet, makeup running from his ashen face as he holds his wound closed and adds his shield to the wall.
Only Iraven keeps to his knees, cradling Micha in his arms inside our wall.
I am not the only one to notice. Prince Iraven is Sharum Ka. He should be commanding this group, not me. But there is no time to question it. No time for anything, as the wind demons circle around the cavern for another pass and the sand demons reach the shield wall.
“Everam is watching, brothers and sisters!” I cry as the killing begins. “Make Him proud!”
60
CORRUPTED
There is a clash of talons and sparking magic as the sand demons launch themselves at our shields. I strike over the edge of Selen’s shield, skewering the alagai and threatening to tear open my wound. I didn’t much feel the cut, but my nerves scream at the ripping of flesh just begun to knit.
Braced against the impact, Arick groans and staggers a step, but he does not yield. My brothers work their spears over the wall, killing more of the demons, but it will not be enough.
We’re going to die here. All of us. Alagai Ka has failed to turn us into his willing slaves, so he will wipe us out, that none might betray what really happened here.
But then, rising above the shouts and shrieks, I hear Darin’s pipes and Rojvah’s voice. The two entwine their music with rising power, but it isn’t the Song of Waning, or some other composition I know. I don’t think it’s a composition at all. It’s something improvised to meet the moment, and without the demon king’s influence, his drones cannot resist it.
Wind demons shriek as they fly to echolocate objects around them, and the presence of their fellows. They bank in perfect formation, beginning another dive. The duo take those sounds and reflect back a corrupted version.
The effect is almost instantaneous. Demons begin colliding in midair and instinctively lashing out with teeth and claws. Others miscalculate their flight paths, crashing into walls, stalactites, the ground, at high speed. A handful bounce off the shield wall, but none make it over our defenses.
My warriors are quick to finish off the stunned and wounded demons as Rojvah changes her song and Darin continues to improvise around it. They turn their power to the sand demons, and the alagai scrabble back from us in terror, turning to flee into the many tunnels leading into the cavern.
The remaining wind demons are next, sent flocking back to wherever they came from. Before long, there isn’t a living demon anywhere in sight. This, more than anything, convinces me.
I turn to Gorvan and Faseek. “Alagai Ka has fled the field. Make litters for the wounded. We must return to th
e Holy City before he can gather strength to return.”
My brothers punch fists to their chests. “Your will, Prince Olive,” Faseek says. “It is a great victory.”
I say nothing, and the men get to work.
“They ent wrong,” Selen says. “Just getting out alive is a win.”
I spit on the ground, watching Rojvah continue her song even as she tends her brother’s wounds. Chadan and Micha have gone cold, just like hundreds of my brothers since we entered this Creator-forsaken place.
“There’s no win, Sel,” I say. “We paid in blood and have nothing to show for it but loss.”
“We could have killed him,” Selen says. “We were close. I felt it.”
I nod. “I felt it, too. But now he’s gone, and he ent stupid enough to expose himself again. He’ll wait, and plot, and come at us when we’re not looking, from a direction we don’t expect.”
Selen gives me a doubtful look. “How can you know so much about what that thing was thinking?”
“Because I was in his head.”
* * *
—
“Get away from my sister,” I tell Iraven, who still kneels with Micha’s cold body across his lap. His bloody punch dagger lies on the stone beside them.
My brother does not move. “She’s my sister, too.”
“It didn’t stop you from killing her.”
“Nor were you able to resist putting your arm around Darin Bales’ throat.” There is no fight in Iraven’s tone, only a weary resignation.
“The Father of Lies made all of us into slaves.” Drillmaster Zim of the Spears of the Desert is Iraven’s closest lieutenant. He stands close by and others are listening, a reminder that though the men follow me for the moment, Iraven is Sharum Ka, and they are sworn to serve him.
I don’t look at the drillmaster, eyes fixed on my brother. “Were you the demon king’s slave when you kidnapped her? When you took Micha from her wife—her life?”
The Desert Prince Page 66
