Demon Cycle 04 - The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  “We are not your servants, Par’chin,” Jardir said, “to be ordered to gaol duty.”

  “Ent no common gaol,” Arlen said. “You know what we’re holding.”

  Jardir stiffened at that. “Alagai Ka.”

  Arlen gave a curt nod. “I come back and find less than three of you here guarding, and our pact will indeed be broken.”

  Jardir bowed. “Do not allow yourselves to be seen. Save your people in the night, but the Daylight War is no longer ours.”

  Arlen scowled, but he nodded, turning to hold a hand out to Renna. She took it, holding tight to him even as they dissipated, as intimate as any connection of flesh. Linked, they slipped down a path to skate together.

  Renna skated back to the tower, clumsily solidifying a few inches off the ground. Night after night of Drawing and skating had left her dizzy and drained of magic, insides weak and burning from conducting so much power.

  The sudden drop twisted her ankle and sent her stumbling, but something caught her before she hit the ground. She tensed, ready to fight.

  “Peace, sister,” Shanvah said. “It is only me.”

  Renna shook her head, getting her feet under her and pushing away from the woman’s support. “Since when am I your sister?”

  “Since we shed blood together in the tomb of Kaji,” Shanvah said. “We are spear sisters now.”

  Her ankle throbbed painfully. Renna tried to heal it, but found she did not have the strength. She tried to Draw more power, but it made her whole body seem aflame. Easier to let the ankle throb.

  Renna looked to the horizon. The sky was lightening, but dawn was still an hour away. She needed to feed before then, or she would be useless in the coming day. “That only till sunrise, when we go back to being enemies?”

  Shanvah shrugged. “If the Shar’Dama Ka commands me to fight you, I will, Renna vah Harl, but it will not be as I would wish it. I see honor in you and the Par’chin, and I think Everam must have a plan for us.”

  “Wish it was that simple,” Renna said.

  “It is, and it isn’t,” Shanvah said. “Nothing on Ala is simple, or it would be as Heaven. Everam does not show his plan, but we know it is there.”

  “Ay,” Renna agreed, though she did not agree at all. The woman was wasting time she needed to hunt, especially on a sore ankle. She drew her knife. “Gonna hunt a bit. Get my strength back.”

  Shanvah nodded. “I will accompany you.”

  “Core you will,” Renna snapped.

  “You’re exhausted, sister,” Shanvah said. “There is safety in numbers.”

  Renna shook her head. “Don’t need a sitter. You’d only slow me down.”

  “But we …”

  Shanvah’s aura blossomed with genuine hurt, and it made Renna angry. “We’re what? Spear sisters? You think that means a corespawned thing to me when I just spent a week trying to save lives you desert rats put out in the night?”

  She grabbed at her vest, showing the deep crimson stains. “I’m covered in innocent blood because of your Shar’Dama Ka, Shanvah. Here, in the ripping night. So forgive me if I ent interested in having you at my back.”

  She turned away sharply, storming off into the night without another word.

  It was nearing dawn when Renna at last caught sight of her prey. The five of them had hunted the area around the tower down to nothing, and even as she ranged farther, many had already slipped back down to the Core’s embrace to shelter them from the sun.

  She had been tracking this demon for several minutes, and saw she was just in time. The field demon had retreated into the shelter of deep grass for the moment of vulnerability when it began to dematerialize. Lesser drones could not do it as quickly as the elite demons—or she herself—and they might as well be asleep for all they could defend themselves when they were in the dissipation trance.

  She saw its muscles relax as the trance began and pounced on its back, hooking an arm and her legs around the demon’s midsection as she rolled onto her back. The demon flailed and kicked helplessly as she drove her knife into its chest and pulled down sharply, laying its insides open.

  Light began to peek over the horizon, the coreflesh beginning to smoke and sizzle. Desperate, Renna thrust her hands into the open wound, clawing free whatever meat she could find and cramming it into her mouth before the sun could burn it away.

  There were several intense moments of messy mastication, and then a spark, as the ichor running down her chin caught fire. She cried out in surprise.

  There was a sudden slash, a shining spearpoint cleaving the grass like a scythe. Shanvah stood there, spear raised to attack. But then she started, seeing the demon corpse.

  Immediately she leapt back, bowing deeply. “Apologies for not heeding your request, sister, but I was concerned. When you cried out, I thought …”

  She looked up. “But of course not. You are Renna vah Harl, and no demon can stand against …”

  Her aura was lost in the rising sun, but Shanvah’s eyes told Renna enough. She knew.

  “Shanvah, wait …” she began, but the woman turned and raced away.

  Everyone was back in the yard by the time Renna made it back, standing in the shadow of the tower. Shanvah was on her knees, head on the ground. Shanjat was holding his spear.

  Arlen and Jardir looked ready to fight again, this time once and for all.

  All eyes turned to her as she approached. Shanvah leapt to her feet, spear pointed Renna’s way. “She is a servant of Nie!”

  “Impossible,” Jardir said. “She stood with us against Alagai Ka himself.”

  “She has been corrupted,” Shanvah said. “Before Everam, on my honor and hope of Heaven, I swear, Deliverer. With my own eyes I saw her feasting on the foul meat of the alagai.”

  “Impossible,” Jardir said again, pointing to the rising sun. He and the others were still in semidarkness, but Renna stood fully in the light. “How could any servant of Nie stand in Everam radiance if …”

  But then he turned sharply, looking at Arlen. He closed the distance between them in a second, grabbing Arlen’s hands as he probed deeper into his aura.

  “It’s true,” Jardir whispered. “Everam preserve us, I trusted you, and all along, you served Nie.”

  “Corespawn it, stop acting the ripping fool!” Arlen shouted.

  “Why else would you profane your body with … !”

  Arlen growled, shoving Jardir away so hard Shanjat had to leap out of the way to avoid being hit. Everyone tensed for battle, but Arlen held his ground, making no effort to continue the fight. “You have the stones to ask why?! Night, you think I wanted this?”

  He pointed an angry finger at Jardir. “This is your doing, same as the ripping ink.”

  “Now it is you being the fool, Par’chin,” Jardir said. “I did not force demon meat down your throat.”

  “No, you and Shanjat and the others left me for dead in the corespawned desert,” Arlen snapped, “after beating me, robbing me, and trying to throw me to the demons for having the audacity to win the first night’s alagai’sharak in three thousand years.”

  Shanvah looked to Shanjat, eyes wide. “Father, this cannot be true.”

  The tip of Shanjat’s ready spear dipped as he turned to her. “It is true, daughter. We dishonored ourselves with what we had to do that night, but the Par’chin had stolen the Spear of Kaji, and could not be allowed to keep it.”

  “You parse words worse than any khaffit in the bazaar,” Arlen spat. “No one had seen the spear in over three thousand years. Its power belongs to all humanity, and I brought it to Jardir honorably, to share with you.”

  “The Sharum will be silent!” Jardir snapped, his gaze never leaving Arlen. “You parse words, too, Par’chin. None of this explains why you have eaten of this foul meat.”

  “Don’t it?” Arlen said. “Said yourself there was no food in Anoch Sun. It was why your people violated that place worse than the mind demons when you came through. Didn’t have time to be respectful
. You just wanted to loot the place.”

  “I warn you, Par’chin …” Jardir began.

  “Don’t deny it,” Arlen said. “Being Shar’Dama Ka means making the big decisions, ay? Then take responsibility for them.”

  “I do,” Jardir said evenly.

  “Me, too,” Arlen said. “I wanted the secrets of Anoch Sun as much as you did. When I stumbled back to the Oasis of Dawn and warded my flesh, I had enough food to escape the desert …”

  “Or return to Anoch Sun,” Jardir finished.

  Arlen nodded. “Spent a long time there, studying. Demons were the only thing to eat. Had to survive, I was to pass on what I learned.”

  He raised a finger. “But I left the place just like I found it. Bet your people didn’t even notice I’d been there. So which of us is honoring Everam and battling Nie better?”

  Jardir sneered. “Speak not of Everam and Nie, Par’chin. You believe in neither.”

  “And still better at your religion than you!” Arlen said, crossing his arms.

  “You ate alagai meat,” Jardir said. “Do you honestly think you can keep from being corrupted by it?”

  Arlen laughed. “You’re such a ripping hypocrite! Your entire life, your rise to power, your conquest, all of it was dictated by alagai hora, and you talk to me of corruption? How in your twisted logic does the voice of Everam come from demon bones?”

  Jardir pursed his lips. “I have often wondered that, myself, but their power cannot be denied.”

  “Of course not,” Arlen said. “You can see the ripping magic.” He pointed to the spear. “The Spear of Kaji has a demon bone core. So does the crown.

  “Magic ent evil, and corelings ent foot soldiers in some eternal space war,” Arlen continued. “Just animals, like us. Animals that spent millions of years living deep in Ala, bathed in the power of the Core. Evolved to absorb and hold some of that power, and we’ve learned to turn it against them. That’s all.”

  He held up a warded fist. “Tattoos give me power, but no more than your scars. Real power comes from eating the meat. That’s why I can dissipate and draw wards in the air. Do things you need your spear and crown for, or can’t do at all. Got my own demon bone core now.”

  “If they are just animals as you say,” Jardir said, “you risk becoming one of them yourself, if you continue on this course.”

  “Know that,” Arlen said. “Ent eaten demon in years, but the power seems here to stay.”

  “But you allow your jiwah to risk it, too,” Jardir said.

  Arlen laughed again, but it was not a condescending sound this time. His mirth was genuine. “Allow? Have you met Renna Bales? There’s no allowing her.”

  “Corespawned right,” Renna said, taking his hand.

  Arlen looked at her, love in his eyes, but kept taking to Jardir. “Asked her not to, but she knows what’s at stake, and has been trying to catch up. Thinks I’ll mist down to the Core and try to take on the alagai without her, she doesn’t.”

  “Don’t say it like it’s some crazy notion,” Renna said. “Told me yourself it calls to you. Hear it too, now that I’m skating. But that ent a fight we can win alone.”

  She expected Jardir to be aghast at the thought of the Core calling them, but he only nodded. “Nie’s call is strong, but indeed, you must resist. All Ala depends upon us. Put your faith in Everam and He will keep you strong.”

  Arlen shook his head. “Never been much good at putting faith anywhere but in me and mine.”

  Jardir reached out gently, touching Arlen’s chest. “Everam is inside you, my friend. Whether we created Him, or He created us, is irrelevant. He is the Light inside you when all else is dark. He is the Voice that whispers right from wrong. He is the Strength you drew upon in your desert trials. He is the Hope that you carry in this mad scheme.” He smiled. “He is the Stubborn inside you that refuses to admit the truth I bring.”

  Arlen smiled. “Grant you that last, at least.”

  “Now that the cat’s out, might be we don’t need the prisoner.” Renna said. “There’s a shortcut to down below for all of us.”

  Arlen shook his head. “Don’t trust anyone, even myself, to dissipate too close to the Core. Be like dumping a bucket into a river and expecting it to stay upstream.”

  Jardir crossed his arms. “Hypocrisy or not, my warriors I will not profane our bodies with alagai meat.”

  There were enthusiastic nods from Shanvah and Shanjat, and Renna could see the relief in their eyes.

  “So we do it the hard way,” Arlen agreed. “But for that, we need a way to get that ripping demon to talk.”

  CHAPTER 14

  THE PRISONER

  333 AR AUTUMN

  The Consort huddled at the center of the warding, presenting as little flesh as possible to the cursed day star.

  His captors had been thorough. The chain and locks were carefully crafted from a true metal, and their warding was strong. They burned against his skin, keeping him corporeal.

  His cell was circular and bereft of furnishing. Colored stones lined the floor, cemented into a mosaic of warding that would keep him trapped even if he escaped the chain. The warding pulled at his magic with such strength the Consort needed to keep his power buried deep, lest it be drained.

  There would be no restoring lost energy, for the demon prince’s cell was high above the surface, with no vents to Draw from. The Consort powered his own prison, and was determined to give it as little as possible. He sipped at the store carefully.

  There were wards outside the walls, as well. Wards to keep his prison hidden from prying eyes, both human and the drones that no doubt combed the surface, seeking sign of him. The Consort had tried to reach out to them, but the forbiddance was too strong. For the first time, his mind was cut off from both the base impulses of his drones and the beautiful complexity of his brethren’s thoughts. The silence was maddening.

  But worse than even that indignity was the day star. Thick curtains had been pulled over the windows of the cell, overlapping and lashed tight. The darkness was so complete the surface stock were blind, but to the demon prince, even the barest light filtering in through the weaves was agony, sapping his strength and burning his skin. It was all the demon could do to squeeze his lidless eyes tight and curl on the floor until darkness returned.

  At last, the star set, and the demon made a few quick, efficient motions to sit himself upright despite the unevenly wrapped lengths of chain that bound him. Slowly, the Consort Drew a bit of power, healing the flesh beneath an ever-thickening armor of burned and dead flesh.

  Again he Drew, a spark for sustenance. His captors wisely did not get close enough to feed him.

  Last, he shifted, pulling a particular lock against his flesh as he focused a last bit of power into it, slowly eroding the metal. Too much, and the chain would pull the power away, but just a touch could wear it like water dripping on stone.

  The demon had studied his chains for half a cycle now, and knew them intimately. Shatter three locks at the shackle, and much of his mobility would be restored. Break two more links, and he could slip the chain.

  Once free of the chain, he would need to disable the mosaic to dissipate out of the prison. That would go more quickly, but the patterns suggested he would not progress far enough before one of his captors noticed the attempt. Even the weakest of them could pull the curtain with a flick of the wrist, and sunrise mark his end.

  The Consort could afford to be patient. It would be many cycles before he was ready to shatter the chain, and much could change in that time. The human minds wanted him alive, and it was a good opportunity to study and probe their weaknesses.

  It was a delightful irony that the very shackles they used to keep him corporeal prevented the Consort from reshaping his throat and mouth to allow him to replicate the crude grunting that passed for speech among the surface stock. He could understand their questions, but not answer them.

  This frustrated the minds, deepening the rifts between them. Unif
iers they might be, but like any human, they were stupid. Emotional. Barely more intelligent that mimics.

  Most of all, they were mortal. The time would come when their vigilance failed, and he would be free.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE WARDED CHILDREN

  333 AR WINTER

  “Corespawned if I’m letting you put your oily desert hands on my little girl!”

  Leesha looked up, her hands full of a man’s intestine, to see a thick-armed Laktonian man and his teenage son looming with balled fists over tiny Amanvah. The apprentices assisting her were all frozen with fear. Jizell, too, had paused in her surgery, but she could no more stop and involve herself than Leesha.

  Amanvah did not seem perturbed. “If I do not, she will die.”

  “Ay, whose ripping fault is that?” the boy cried. “You desert rats killed Mum and ran us out into the night!”

  “Do not blame me for your cowardice and inability to protect your sister,” Amanvah said. “Stand aside.”

  “Core I will,” the man said, grabbing her arm. Sikvah took a step forward, but the man’s son sidestepped to block her path.

  Amanvah looked down as if he had rubbed shit on her white robe, pristine despite the hours she had spent in the surgery with Leesha. Then her hand shot up, snaking around the man’s giant biceps and into his armpit. She stepped back in a half turn, bringing the man’s arm out straight until the elbow locked. She twisted slightly, and the man roared with pain.

  Amanvah used the locked arm to guide the man like a puppet, swinging him away from the operating table and right into his son. A well-placed kick set the boy stumbling toward the doors, and Amanvah walked the screaming man straight back after him, sweeping both men out of the room as easily as dust into a pan.

  She let the man’s arm go as the doors swung open, delivering a mule-kick into his solar plexus that sent both flying through the air, one landing heavily atop the other. Dozens of women working triage looked up in shock.

  Leesha turned to Roni. “Get out there and find the biggest Cutters you can. Post them at the surgery door and tell them I will bite their ripping heads off if anyone other than patients and Gatherers is allowed in.”