Demon Cycle 04 - The Skull Throne

by Peter V. Brett

  Something stuck Inevera then, knocking her across the room. If she had not been strengthened by magic, the force would have left her broken and helpless. As it was, she was thrown like a doll and hit the floor with a jolt that sent pain lancing up her limbs and the wand clattering from her grasp. She looked in the direction the strike had come from, the room momentarily spinning.

  But then the whirl resolved into Dama’ting Asavi, who was supposed to be hundreds of miles away.

  Advising Jayan.

  “You killed my son,” Inevera said.

  “It was your own prophecy that spoke his doom.” Asavi put a hand to her breast. “Since the wise Damajah chose not to reveal it to her son, who was I to speak it to him?”

  He would not have listened, in any event, Inevera thought. But it did nothing to lessen the pain as the words cut into her, nor the anger blowing through her like a hurricane.

  Melan and Asavi spread out to opposite sides of the room, keeping Inevera between them so it became difficult to see them both at once. Their auras were brightening, each having activated a hora stone to strengthen herself for the fight to come. Their jewelry and the items in their hands all shone with power.

  Too much power for Inevera’s comfort. Her eyes flicked to her hora wand, but Melan kicked it farther away.

  Made from the limb of a demon prince, the weapon was more powerful than all Melan and Asavi’s hora combined. So powerful that Inevera had come to rely on it overmuch, and had few other items of offensive magic on her person. She took comfort, at least, that it was useless to her enemies without hours to study how she had positioned the wards of activation.

  But even disarmed Inevera was not defenseless, as Asavi learned when she raised a flame demon skull and sent a jet of fire at her. One of Inevera’s rings tingled and the fire became a breeze as it passed over her.

  Inevera wasted no time, darting right into the fire and kicking the skull from Asavi’s hands. She followed through into a full spin, meaning to drive an elbow into the woman’s throat, but Asavi was no novice to sharusahk. She slipped a hand under Inevera’s elbow and pulled it along its natural circuit as she dropped her own weight, attempting a takedown with wilting flower, a sharukin that would shatter the line of power in her leg.

  Inevera adapted quickly, turning her thigh to protect the convergence point. Asavi’s fingers missed only by an inch, but it was enough, and her leg remained planted as she used Asavi’s own momentum to drive her hard into the floor.

  But before she could press the advantage, Melan threw a handful of wind demon teeth at her. The wards cut into the teeth activated, sending them flying with speed to make the air crack.

  She threw a hand up, halfway between her face and chest. One of her bracelets was warded against wind demons, and a flare of magic protected her vitals.

  Other parts of her body were not so fortunate. Wind demon teeth were sharp as needles and thick as straw. One punched a hole through her stomach, another her hip.

  Inevera Drew hard on her jewelry again, healing the punctures, but two of the teeth were embedded in her thigh, and she did not have time to pull them free.

  She stomped down, but Asavi had already rolled out of the way and kicked back onto her feet. Melan was raising a tube made from the leathery wing of a wind demon, and she knew what was coming next.

  With nowhere to run, Inevera dropped to the ground just as the blast of wind struck her like the hand of Everam, slapping her down onto the floor so hard she felt floorboards crack beneath her.

  Asavi threw a wardstone as Inevera lifted her legs to kick herself upright. It skittered across the floor, leaving a trail of ice in its wake. Power enough to freeze an enemy solid.

  Inevera Drew on her ruby ring, the gold molded around a circlet of flame demon bone, and her body was filled with warmth to fend off the cold as she kicked the stone toward Melan.

  The woman had been readying another gust of wind when the cold stone came her way. Desperately she turned the tube of demon wing and loosed. She succeeded in blowing the stone away, but she foolishly aimed the blast at the floor, and the rebound knocked her from her feet.

  Inevera closed the distance between her and Asavi, driving pointed fingers into her shoulder. Asavi was not quick enough to block fully, but she tapped Inevera’s forearm just enough to protect her convergence point, turning a crippling blow into one merely painful.

  With Inevera in close, Asavi caught her shoulder, holding her in place as her knee drove into Inevera’s kidney, once, again. Inevera accepted the blows for the chance to hook Asavi’s knee with her free arm, again taking the woman down. She snaked her other arm around Asavi’s leg as well, preparing to twist it from the socket.

  She was not able to complete the move, but it had the desired effect. Unwilling to let her lover be maimed, or to strike with magic while she was in its path, Melan moved in close to join the fight.

  Inevera had to drop Asavi’s leg to block Melan’s whip kick, striking a return blow to her chest that would have broken the breastplate of a normal woman. But Melan, too, was strengthened by magic, and resisted the blow as she fell back, kicking Inevera hard in the crotch.

  Unlike other points, where an inch meant the difference between striking a convergence or not, much of a woman’s power centered between her legs, and the target was difficult to miss. Nerve clusters screamed in pain and Inevera’s legs went momentarily weak. Asavi was ready, kicking at them and at last taking her down.

  Rather than be pulled, Inevera threw her weight into the fall, catching Asavi by the back of her neck and rolling to put the woman on top just in time to catch Melan’s driving knee in the back. Inevera kicked the two women into each other, rolling to her feet and sprinting across the room for her hora wand.

  As fast as she ran, Melan’s throw was faster. Like a glowing coal, the hora stone streaked through the air to land between her and the weapon, impact wards blowing a gaping hole in the floor and striking her with debris. She had no wards against wood, and it left her bloodied and pincushioned with splinters. Amidst the smoke and dust, she lost sight of her wand.

  There were shouts from outside, drawn to the commotion, but Asavi threw another impact stone at the doorway, collapsing the frame to prevent any from coming to Inevera’s aid.

  Again Inevera Drew for healing, but she felt the reservoir of power in her jewels dwindling. She could not continue depleting hora at this rate.

  Desperately, she reached into her hora pouch, closing her fingers about the familiar contours of her dice. She did not even need to look at them as she held them aloft and summoned light.

  Light wards were among the first nie’dama’ting carved into their dice, that they might work further by Everam’s light. Even a novice could do it. Melan and Asavi laughed at the effort.

  But Inevera’s dice were carved of mind demon bone, focused by pure electrum. The light she called shone like the sun itself, and the women shrieked, turning from the glare.

  By the time they caught their senses, Inevera had caught Asavi’s arm, torquing it back until she felt cartilage pop and the woman screamed.

  The move cost her a slash of Melan’s talons across the face. Blood began to flow into her eyes as she caught the follow-up blow and struck a convergence that sent Melan stumbling back.

  She had to pause to pull her forearm across her eyes, wiping the blood away. Again she Drew for healing, but this time she felt the well run dry as the bleeding slowed. Asavi camel-kicked her away, pausing as she too Drew for healing.

  The next minutes were a blur. Inevera was forced to focus almost entirely on defense as the women pressed her from both sides. They had come prepared, their auras continuing to glow brightly even as Inevera’s dimmed and she began to slow.

  More, Asavi and Melan had been fighting together their entire lives, designing their own sharukin to fight in perfect harmony. Blocking one opened Inevera to attacks from the other, and the women took full advantage.

  Inevera found herself missi
ng more and more blocks as her power waned, and the few counters she managed amidst the pummeling were easily blocked. It became clear they were toying with her, savoring the moment.

  “Accept your fate,” Melan said, landing a kick to the side of the head that sent Inevera reeling.

  “Everam has forsaken you,” Asavi said, kicking her back the other way.

  “It is your own fault,” Melan said, punching Inevera in the jaw so hard it took her feet from under her.

  Asavi was positioned to catch her as she fell, dropping to one knee and driving Inevera hard into it. Inevera coughed a spatter of blood as the air was blasted from her, and Asavi hurled her onto her back. “You have grown complacent in your power, coming into battle with little more than your dice, flawed since you coated them as the Evejah forbid.”

  Was it true? Had the dice turned from her? Had she truly fallen from Everam’s favor? If so, what had been her failing? Not confirming the death of the Par’chin? Coating her dice? Allowing Ahmann into Domin Sharum? What might she have done differently?

  But then she remembered something, and her hand dropped to her hora pouch.

  “They warned me,” she croaked.

  “Eh?” Melan asked.

  “The dice.” Inevera gasped as she reached into the pouch. “They warned me my power would be challenged. Everam has not forsaken me. This is just another test.”

  It was forbidden in the Evejah to Draw on one’s dice for anything save light and foretelling, lest the hora might become so drained as to cause false foretellings. More, the items were the most precious thing a dama’ting owned. They were her key to the white, her guide through life, the heart of her power. No dama’ting would risk harm to her dice.

  But Inevera had already lost her dice once, leaving her blind until she could carve a new set. The price was high, but she was stronger for paying it.

  Now, she had dice carved from a mind demon’s bones, and coated in electrum. She closed her fingers about the seven dice, Drawing hard on their power for one last burst of strength and speed.

  Melan and Asavi had not expected the move, but neither were they caught unaware. As Inevera came back, they moved in perfect sync, Asavi to block, and Melan to counter.

  Faster than asps a moment ago, the women now seemed to move like plodding camels. Inevera’s kick connected with Asavi’s chest before her hands were in place to block, knocking her back with plenty of time to pivot and catch Melan’s attack, pulling her into a throw that sent her clear across the room.

  At a safe distance, both women reached for their hora pouches once more, but Inevera was faster, raising the fist that clutched her dice and pointing a finger, her sharp nail tracing a cold ward in the air.

  Asavi literally froze, a thin rime of white coating her skin. Inevera had not intended to kill her—yet—but she had not anticipated the raw power of the dice. The woman’s aura snuffed like a candle.

  Melan shrieked, letting loose a blast of lightning, but Inevera turned, sketching a quick Drawing in the air. Her hand tingled as the energy was absorbed back into the dice.

  Gaping, Melan fumbled with her hora pouch, pulling free another fistful of wind demon teeth. Propulsion wards activated as she threw, but Inevera traced the ward in reverse, and the teeth ripped back through the thrower.

  Melan gave a sharp cry and fell back, groaning and laboring for breath, riddled with holes. Inevera kept her dice in hand, ready to ward, but the woman’s aura gave no sign that she might continue the battle.

  “Killed … Asavi …” Melan said through clenched teeth.

  “The same fate she wanted for me,” Inevera noted. “But you don’t fear cold, do you, Melan?” She drew quick wards in the air, and a bright flame hovered above her hand. “Fire has ever been your bane.”

  Melan flinched, crying in pain as she curled reflexively, clutching her scarred hand close. “I will tell you nothing!”

  Inevera laughed. “I have my dice, little sister. I need nothing you can tell me. Any value you might still hold vanished the moment you mentioned my mother.”

  “Forgive our failure, Damajah,” Micha begged when Inevera revived her. Jarvah was only just stirring from the healing magic when one of Inevera’s earrings began to vibrate, signaling that someone had entered one of the secret passages the spear sisters used.

  Be silent, Inevera’s hands signaled. She flicked her fingers, and Micha helped get Jarvah out of sight as Inevera raised her hora wand.

  The hidden door opened silently, but it was no attacker. Instead she found Ashia, with Kajivah slung over her shoulder and a bundle strapped to her chest. The spear sister’s robes were torn and wet with blood, her white veil splotched red. She left bloody footprints behind her.

  “Succor, I beg, Damajah.” Ashia laid Kajivah down and uncovered the bundle, revealing her infant son.

  “What has happened?” Inevera demanded, moving to inspect the woman’s wounds. There were bruises and superficial cuts, but a spear had pierced her abdomen and come clear through. She was pale, her aura dim. She would need hora magic if she was to survive.

  “Jayan is dead,” Ashia said, “his forces shattered.”

  Inevera nodded. “I know.”

  “The shar’dama killed their Damaji and took control of the tribes in response,” Ashia said. “All save Maji, who was defeated.”

  This was news, and dire. It had been Inevera’s intention all along that Ahmann’s dama sons take control of the tribes, but at a time of her own choosing. The idiots risked everything, and she realized just how far her control of them had slipped.

  “And Ashan?” she asked, already guessing the answer.

  “My father is dead,” Ashia said. “Asome sits the Skull Throne.”

  Worse, still. She had already lost Jayan. It would be devastating if she were forced to kill Asome, as well.

  “I turned to Asukaji when the slaughter began,” Ashia said, “just in time to catch a chain around my throat as he tried to kill me.”

  “Then your brother, too, is dead,” Inevera guessed.

  Ashia nodded, coughing blood, then, and swayed on her knees. Inevera signaled and Micha and Jarvah were there in an instant. “Take the child.”

  Jarvah reached out, but Ashia tightened her grasp reflexively and Kaji began to cry. Ashia squinted as if she did not recognize her spear sister, confusion and fear in her aura.

  That more than anything frightened Inevera. When had she ever seen fear in Ashia’s aura? Not even when the alagai built greatwards around the city.

  “By Everam and my hope of Heaven, I swear I will not harm him, sister,” Jarvah said. “Please. The Damajah must see to your injuries.”

  Ashia shook her head, and some of the confusion left her aura. “I have walked the abyss to protect my son tonight, sister. I will not be parted from him.”

  “You will not be parted,” Inevera said. “You have my word. But you may clutch too tightly when the magic takes you. Let your spear sister hold Kaji. They will not leave your side.”

  Ashia nodded, relaxing her grip. Jarvah took Kaji, holding the thrashing infant beneath the armpits at arm’s length. She looked like she would prefer fighting a rock demon. The Sharum’ting, denied their own childhoods, had none of a mother’s instincts.

  Inevera snatched the child from her, bundling his limbs tightly in the blanket. She took the neat bundle and pushed it into the crook of Jarvah’s elbow. “Micha, take the Holy Mother down to the vault. We will meet you there shortly. Go quickly and tell no one.”

  “Yes, Damajah.” Micha bowed and vanished.

  Inevera swept into the throne room at dawn, her Damaji’ting sister-wives at her heel. The room was already filled with dama and Sharum, causing a great din at the news. Before them, their second sons lined the path to the throne, save for Belina, who glared hatred at Damaji Aleveran. Aleverak’s eldest son, Aleveran had taken the place of his father to lead the Majah—at least for now.

  None of the Damaji’ting approved of their sons’ coup
, but ties of blood ran deeply in them all. Inevera felt it herself, looking up the steps to Asome, his face grim, eyes still puffed from tears no doubt shed over Asukaji.

  There is always a price to power, my son, she thought. Even now, sympathy for the boy mingled with the pain of Jayan’s loss. Some might claim the younger killed the elder, but the truth of the dice was harsher. Asome had goaded his brother, but it was Jayan who defeated himself.

  “It is good to see you well, Mother. I feared for you last night.” Asome had wisely uncovered the windows of the throne room, filling it with light that bounced around the room on dozens of new mirrors, but Inevera did not need to read his aura to know the lie.

  “I fear for all of us,” Inevera said, continuing on as her sister-wives took their place left of the throne, opposite the new Damaji. “So much that I have taken Kajivah and my grandson into my custody. For their own protection, of course.”

  “Of course.” Asome grit his teeth as she began to ascend the steps. She knew he wanted to stop her—every man in the room did—but while it was one thing to have your mother quietly killed, it was another to attack the Damajah in the light of day before the entire court.

  “And Ashia?” Asome asked. “My traitorous wife must face justice for killing her brother and my palace guards.”

  Inevera resisted the urge to laugh at the irony. “I am afraid your Jiwah Ka was mortally wounded in the battle, my son.”

  Asome pursed his lips, clearly doubting. “They must be returned, now that the danger is past. I would see the body of my wife, Kaji must lead his tribe, and my holy grandmother …”

  Inevera topped the steps and met his eyes, and he did not dare finish the sentence. As Shar’Dama Ka, Asome’s power exceeded her own, but it was untested, and they both knew Inevera could have both of the hostages killed long before he found them.

  “The danger is not past!” Inevera said loudly, her voice echoing through the room. “I have consulted the alagai hora, and the dice foretell doom, should they leave my protection.”

  She did not bow, striding as an equal to her bed of pillows beside the throne.