by Paul S. Kemp
Rakon heard it, for he spun around, looked up and back, eyes wide, and saw Nix plummeting toward him. Nix thought the sorcerer shouted something at the sylph or the devil. The sylph tried to veer right but too late.
Egil and Nix plummeted into the sylph's form and the winds of the creature, like an undulating pillow, absorbed some of their speed, but not enough. They slammed into the devil and Rakon in a tangle of limbs and shouts and chaos.
Nix crashed hard into the devil's back, the impact knocking the air from his lungs, slamming his jaw forcefully on the creature's scaled back, and sending them both tumbling. The devil roared, his arms flailing.
Nix saw sparks, his vision blurred, faded to black, but he deliberately bit down hard on his tongue before he lost consciousness. Warm blood filled his mouth, but the sharpness of the pain brought back his senses.
The sylph keened, the alarmed sound in the wind all around them, and the air bearing them all swirled chaotically, as if the sylph had lost control of its own body. Nix separated from the devil, and the pillow of air below seemed to give way. He was falling, buffeted by ordinary winds, tumbling, shouting, the rapid spins of his descent ruining his perception.
Shouts sounded all around him, mixed with the alarmed high-pitched keening of the sylph. Emptiness all around him. A disorienting, heart-pounding fall. He thought he caught sight of Rusilla and Merelda floating free of the devil's grasp. Perhaps the devil had released them when Nix had crashed into the creature, but he couldn't be sure. At the moment, he couldn't sort up from down, could not fix on any one thing for longer than a heartbeat. Sky, devil, moon, the manse below. Sky, devil, moon, the ground rushing up to meet him.
He tensed in anticipation of impact but it did little to prepare him for it. His legs clipped the edge of the roof of the manse, flipping him head over heels as he fell the remaining distance to the hard floor of the unroofed, exposed room below. He landed on his back and the impact sent spikes of pain through his spine, chest, arms, and legs. Other loud thumps sounded near him, groans, the sound of wood cracking, the devil's snarl. Winds buffeted him, the agitated swirl of the sylph.
"You are safely arrived at the manse, master," the sylph said, its voice like the breeze. "My duty is performed and I go. Pray do not call me again for another decade."
The winds ebbed and all was silent. Nix tried to move his hands, his legs. They protested with pain but they moved. He hadn't heard anything break. The sylph must have slowed the fall enough to let him survive it, at least for the moment. He turned his head to the side and spit the blood he'd earned from biting his tongue.
If Nix had survived, then so had Rakon, and so had the devil.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nix had no time to evaluate himself more thoroughly. He lifted himself to all fours, to his knees, blinking, his vision swirling for a moment. He'd landed in the center of a summoning circle, the lead of its lines inlaid into the wood. The nonsense thought struck him that he'd been summoned out of the sky. He would've laughed aloud but his body hurt too much. There were other symbols carved or scribed or inlaid into the wood in other areas of the floor – an elemental circle, a thaumaturgic triangle, a binding diamond. They'd landed in a summoning chamber. Rakon's summoning chamber, which was open to the sky, to the vault of night, to Minnear, which shone full in the velvet of night.
A metal staircase stood in the center of the open room, supported by cracked scaffolds. The stairway – thirteen steps, Nix noted – ended in an elevated platform. There Abrak-Thyss lay, his huge body and serpentine arms flowing over the sides. Ichor dripped from the sphincters that ended his thick arms. The small eyes at the end of the arms were closed.
Nix shook his head to clear it, looked around. Rakon lay across the room, lifting himself off the floor with his hands, his face dazed, bloody, his skullcap askew, hair for the first time mussed. Egil was already on his feet, kneeling over Rusilla and Merelda, who lay near one another on the floor. The priest turned them over, put his ear to their mouth.
"Egil?" Nix called.
"They're alive," Egil answered, relief in his tone. "And untouched by the fiend, near as I can tell."
Rusilla groaned; her forefinger curled.
"And stirring!" Egil said. "Their eyes are open, Nix!"
"Get away from them!" Rakon said, his voice a hiss.
Egil rose slowly, turned to look at the sorcerer. His heavy brows darkened, vowing violence.
Nix, too, rose. He wobbled, swayed, but stayed upright.
"Kill them both, Abrak-Thyss," Rakon said. He coughed, spit blood. "Then honor the Pact."
"Your devil is dead, sorcerer," Nix said, and drew his falchion. "There'll be no rapes in this house tonight. Just an execution."
Rakon chuckled, the sound broken and wet.
Wood creaked and cracked above Nix. He looked up, saw the eyes at the end of the devil's arms open, staring at him with menace.
"Shite," he whispered.
Rakon laughed louder.
"Egil…" Nix said.
"I see it," the priest answered. He put hafts in his hands, fixed his eyes on the devil. "Just something else I need to kill, then."
Behind the priest, the lone door that led back into the house flew open and a bent crone in the faded garb of a noblewoman tumbled through. Her gray hair stuck out from her head in wild tufts. Her crazed eyes, one of them marred to a half-open droop by a scar, took in the devil, Rakon, Rusilla and Merelda, Egil and Nix.
"Rakon!" she shrieked.
"Back inside, Mother," the sorcerer snapped.
But she didn't go back inside. She charged Egil, her thin hands bent like claws, a snarl revealing rotted teeth. Egil caught her up in his grasp while she clawed bloody furrows into his face. He lifted her from her feet and set her down firmly on the ground near the door.
"Sit, grandma!" Egil said, and stuck the head of his hammer in her face. "Do not move."
She snarled at him, hissed like a serpent, but stayed put as if planted there.
Above Nix, the wood platform at the top of the infernally numbered stairs cracked as the devil shifted his bulk, twisted and stood. His arms flailed, muscles rippled under the scaled form, and the mouth in his chest opened in a roar of triumph.
Nix backed off, treading on arcana, and the devil coiled himself and leaped from the top of the platform. His huge misshapen form landed with a thud that shook the floor.
Dry, reptilian stink filled Nix's nostrils. One of the devil's larger arms snaked sidewise to eye Egil, who stood over Rusilla and Merelda. The other jutted forward and eyed Nix, the mouth open and dripping ichor. The two smaller arms flexed and bent near the devil's mouth, a reflexive motion like those of an insect's mandibles.
Nix eyed the partially engorged member dangling between the trunks of the creature's legs.
"Been a while for you, yeah? Gonna be a bit of a wait yet, fakker."
The devil tensed and roared, his exhalation the stink of a charnel house. The eyes in both arms fixed on Nix and it charged, his tread shaking the floor.
While backpedaling, Nix drew and threw his throwing daggers at the brute's torso, but the creature's hide turned them as well as plate armor. Nix pulled his hand axe as the creature lurched toward him. An arm lashed at him, toothy maw snapping, but he ducked under it, hacked at the arm with his axe. The axe's edge rang off the devil's hide, sending a shock up Nix's arm. He lunged forward and stabbed with his falchion but it, too, bounced off the creature's hide. He lurched backward as the devil tried to stomp him with one of the tree trunks of his legs. The impact vibrated the floor, caused Nix to stumble. The devil lumbered after him, his huge bulk pushing him back toward the edge of the room, which overlooked a fall down the escarpment.
Egil roared and charged from the side, hammers held high. The devil whirled to face him, so Nix planted his feet and hurled his axe at the creature's mouth but missed. He cursed and took his falchion in both hands for better leverage.
Egil sidestepped a crushing blow of one of
the devil's arms, spun, and smashed both hammers down simultaneously on the appendage. Scales gave way with a wet crunch and the devil shrieked with pain. His wounded arm spasmed with agony. Egil whirled to parry a blow from the other arm but too slow. The thick serpent of the creature's arm hit Egil squarely in the chest and sent him flying backward across the room. He landed on his back near Rusilla and Merelda.
"Shite," Nix said, and a backhand lash from the devil's arm snatched at him, caught him by the wrist, and jerked him toward the creature's chest maw. Panicked, Nix twisted and pulled, nearly dislocating his shoulder, but finally pulling himself free. The fanged mouth from the other arm lunged for him. He dodged it but the move sent him careening backward off balance. The devil plodded after him, an arm swinging crosswise for his head. Nix managed an overhand, two-handed strike with his falchion, chopped with all his strength. He grinned when he felt the blade bite into flesh. Black blood spurted from the squirming arm. The devil howled in rage, withdrew the arm, but advanced on him, his bulk inexorably driving him backward, his arms a nest of toothy snakes, snapping and biting.
Nix retreated, waving his blade defensively, as a sphincter of teeth snapped closed a finger's width from his nose. He grabbed a dagger from his belt and flicked it underhand at the devil, but the creature's scales turned its point. He was running out of both options and room to maneuver.
"Egil!" he shouted. "Get up!"
Nix stumbled back from a swing of the devil's arm, but was too off balance to dodge the backswing. It hit him squarely in the back, drove the air from his lungs, and sent him careening into a wall, abrading his face. He ducked as one of the fanged sphincters lunged at his face and instead took a bite of the wall, removing a divot of plaster and wood. Nix spun into a crosscut, hoping to disembowel the devil, but his boots clung to the floor, slowing his movement. The devil lurched backward, arms waving menacingly.
Nix cursed. He must have stepped in something sticky. He tried to maneuver, found his feet even more fixed to the floor.
"What in the Pits!"
He tried to dodge a swing of the devil's arm, but his stride, clutched by the floor, slowed him and the blow caught him in the abdomen, doubled him over, and sent him flying across the floor.
Coughing, gasping, he clambered to his feet. His boots stuck to the floor again, more strongly this time. He put his weight on one foot to lift the other and the first sank ankle deep into the floor. He cursed, tried to pull his boot free but no use. He might as well have been standing in hardening quicklime.
"Egil!"
The devil roared as it turned to face him. Nix looked over to see Rakon lying on his belly, one hand caressing the floor, the other cupping his mouth, as if he were uttering secrets to the wood, and Nix supposed he was.
"Egil!" Nix said. "I'm stuck! The sorcerer! Egil!"
The priest sat up, his eyes bleary. He took in the situation at a glance.
The devil lumbered for Nix, hissing, great mouth snapping, his arms a swarm of toothy snakes. The enspelled wood held Nix fast, his boots sunk into the floor almost to the ankle.
"Egil!"
Nix took his falchion in two hands, readied himself.
The priest hurled his hammers in rapid succession. One flew for Rakon with fearsome velocity, flipping head over haft, and slammed into the sorcerer's unprotected side. Whatever whispers Rakon had been making to the floor ended with broken ribs and a howl of pain. He curled up, gasping, coughing blood.
The priest's second hammer hummed as it flew at Abrak-Thyss, striking the devil in the chest, in his open mouth, turning his roar into a shriek of pain as the weapon shattered a tooth. The enraged, pained devil bit the haft in two and spit head and handle to the floor, but the blow had done its work, halting the creature's charge at Nix.
Nix pulled at his boots with his hands but even with Rakon disabled he could not get them free. His stream of expletives would have shamed a crew of seamen.
Egil pulled his crowbar and held it in both hands, eyeing the devil.
"This worked well on your sibling, darkspawn. Let's take its measure on you."
The devil charged Egil and the priest answered in kind.
Unable to dislodge his boots from the melted stone, Nix slit his boot laces with the dagger he kept in his boot and pulled his bare feet free. He looked up in time to see one of the devil's serpentine arms catch Egil on the run and send him spinning and cursing to the ground. Another arm darted in, serpentlike, the fanged mouth at its end biting for Egil's face, but the priest caught the arm in the vise of his grip and stopped it a few fingers' width from his face. The mouth snapped open and closed, dripping spit in its hungry lust for flesh.
Teeth gritted, arm shaking, Egil used his free hand to slam the claw end of his crowbar into the creature's arm. The crowbar bit deep into the devil's hide, drawing a spurt of blood and a squeal of pain. The devil reflexively pulled back his arm, and the sudden motion jerked Egil, off balance and staggering, toward the creature.
Seizing the opportunity, one of the smaller mandible arms caught Egil about the waist and lifted him bodily toward the fang-lined, cavernous mouth in the creature's chest. The priest squirmed in the devil's grasp, legs kicking, curses flying, as the devil drew him toward a mouth that could bite him in half.
Nix charged barefoot across the roof, falchion held in a two-handed grip, shouting oaths.
Egil's roar answered the devil's hungry growl and when he was close enough, Egil slammed the crowbar he still clutched into the devil's teeth. The blow shattered another tooth and fragments of it flew in all directions. The devil shrieked with agony, spasmed with pain, and reflexively hurled Egil across the rooftop. The priest hit the wall near the door, near the old woman, and sagged to the ground once more.
The devil whirled to face Nix, arms coiled for a strike, but Nix did not slow. He parried a swing of the devil's arm, rode the momentum of the parry into a spin, leaped over a swing from the other arm, and slashed downward at the creature's shoulder. His blade rang off the scales, and he bounded backward. A fanged mouth snapped at his ear. He ducked as the mouth bit again and the teeth collected a tithe of his hair rather than his flesh. He unleashed a twisting backhand swing of his falchion and the blade cut into the devil's arm. Teeth snapped all around him as he spun, slashed, twisted, and leaped. He loosed a furious onslaught of slashes and stabs, his blade mostly bouncing off the devil's hide, but occasionally opening a scratch. The devil's arms swarmed around him, the fanged mouths snapping in the air, snatching at his clothes. He tried to lead the creature toward the edge of the floor that overlooked the Shelf, hoping to somehow trick the devil into falling over the side, but the devil did not come near when Nix retreated to the edge.
Egil stirred, one leg bending at the knee. Rakon, too, was trying to rise, still coughing and spitting blood. The devil cared nothing for either. He roared and lumbered at Nix.
Nix darted to the side, slashing defensively with his blade. He stumbled over the lead line of a thaumaturgic triangle and went down. He whirled to see the twin mouths on the end of the devil's arms streaking toward his face. He rolled to his side but too slow. One of the mouths closed on his arm, the sphincter of fangs twisting as it clamped down.
Blinding pain summoned a shout of agony from Nix. Blood poured from the wound, the devil's arm pulsing grotesquely as it nursed fluid from his arm. Nix slashed down with his falchion to dislodge the bite, once, twice, and the creature released his arm in a spray of blood.
He staggered backward, bleeding profusely, already weakening. The devil did not relent. His arms flailed for him, his mouths snarled and snapped, as he moved toward Nix on the thick cylinders of his legs.
Nix's eyes fell to the floor and a desperate stratagem occurred to him. He acted before he'd thought it through. He circled wide to draw the devil toward the binding circle inlaid into the wood. The moment the devil stepped within it, Nix dove forward on his belly, touched the activating glyph on the circle, and shouted a word in the Language of C
reation.
Instantly the circle flared and a translucent green sphere of power encapsulated the devil: another prison for Abrak-Thyss, albeit a temporary one.
Realizing what had happened, the creature roared with frustration.
Nix scrabbled backward, bleeding, breathing hard, while the devil flailed his arms and railed his anger against his binding. Where he struck the sphere, sparks of energy flew. Nix knew the circle would not hold for long. He didn't know the proper incantation to use the glyph properly, and even if he did he doubted it could have held Abrak-Thyss for long.
"Stay there," he said to the creature, but couldn't even muster a grin.
Still bleeding from his shoulder, he turned around to find Rakon standing and Egil on all fours, coughing. The sorcerer eyed the bound devil, Nix, then Egil. Fear entered his expression and he ran for the half-open door. He staggered as he went, favoring his side, and Nix thought he'd make it, but Egil saw him, roared, scrambled to his feet, and proved the faster. The priest tackled Rakon right before the door and they went down in a scrum of arms and legs. The sorcerer was no match for Egil's strength and size, and almost instantly the priest was astride him, his huge fists slamming into Rakon's head and face again and again.
