Demonbane (Book 4)

by Ben Cassidy

  Olan turned his head and looked. “Great Eru in Pelos,” he breathed.

  Nadine’s daggers sliced through the air.

  Kendril leapt back. He shoved a chorus member dressed in a barbarian costume out of his way, then blocked both of the assassin’s attacks.

  Nadine somersaulted behind three peasant maidens holding buckets and fake geese, then tossed a throwing knife at the Ghostwalker.

  Kendril ducked.

  The blade spun off into the orchestra pit.

  There was a ripple of murmurs and hushed conversation through the large audience. Some people began to stand.

  Everyone on stage stared at Kendril and Nadine. A plump, blonde-haired woman dressed in a milkmaid’s outfit stood in the center of the stage. Her mouth was open so wide a frog could have leapt in.

  The orchestra began to falter. The whispers in the audience became more intense.

  Kendril and Nadine pushed out into the center of the stage, their blades ringing and whistling as they fought each other.

  Cast members scurried out of their way.

  In the audience someone laughed nervously.

  The orchestra’s playing ground to a discordant halt. The hall was now filled with the confused conversation of the audience members.

  One of the chorus members stepped towards Nadine with an extended arm.

  She whirled and slashed his throat.

  A cacophony of screams erupted from the audience.

  The actors bolted, running for either side of the stage. They tore at each other in their haste, shouting and yelling. One of the set pieces, a large wooden backdrop painted to resemble a Rajathan vineyard, came crashing down with a thunderous boom.

  Screams and shouts filled the opera house. The audience members began to stand, clawing their way to the exits.

  Nadine kicked a basket out of her way. She cocked her head at Kendril and smiled, her long knives at the ready.

  There was no time to reload another pistol. It was blade work now, fast and sharp.

  The problem was, Nadine was faster.

  Kendril staggered back. He was out of breath. His hands ached from where the iron pokers had bruised them the night before. A sudden weariness overtook him. He hadn’t slept in almost two days.

  He shook his head, blinking hard. Not now. He had to keep his wits and his focus.

  Nadine clucked her tongue. “Am I too much for you, handsome?”

  “Go to the Third Fire,” Kendril spat.

  He launched himself forward.

  Maklavir dropped next to Kara and covered her with a musty blanket.

  Joseph looked up. “Is that all you could find?”

  “Our friend brought it.” The diplomat inclined his head towards the door. “I must really have scared him. He threw the blanket at me and ran off.”

  “Let’s hope he’s not part of the cult.” Joseph wrapped Kara’s inert form in the blanket.

  She was still unconscious, but some color was slowly beginning to return to her face.

  Maklavir got up and moved to the desk. “Yes, well if the worst this cult does is throw blankets at us, I’d be tempted to join myself.”

  “Don’t joke like that.” Joseph rubbed the side of Kara’s face. “She’s still cold.”

  Maklavir grunted as he wrenched one of the drawers of the desk out. “Yes, well she was down in that freezing sewer with nothing more than that torn dress of hers on.” He crossed to the fire and tossed the wooden drawer on top of the blaze.

  Joseph pulled back the blanket. “It’s wet. And she’s still shivering.” He paused awkwardly. “We should probably…well, get it off her.”

  Maklavir crossed his arms. “Ah.”

  Joseph’s face turned bright red. “Don’t give me that. It’s—as long as she’s wearing it, she…I mean, she won’t—”

  Maklavir cocked an eyebrow. “Right.”

  Joseph leaned back and took a deep breath. His hands froze over the girl’s huddled form.

  There was an awkward pause.

  “Oh for Eru’s sake,” Maklavir said with a roll of his eyes, “step out of the way. You’re more prudish than a Baderan school mistress.”

  Joseph backed up a bit. He looked awkwardly away. “You’re sure you don’t…I mean do you need—?”

  Maklavir pulled back the blanket. “Trust me, if there is one thing I have plenty of experience with, it’s undressing a woman. Of course, usually they’re awake when I’m doing it.”

  Joseph shyly averted his eyes. He suddenly straightened up. “The music, it’s stopped.”

  Joseph and Maklavir both looked at each other.

  “Kendril,” they said at the same time.

  The screams and yells of a thousand panicked people filled the opera house. Everyone was trying to flee down the aisles at once. It was sheer chaos.

  Oh, well. Kendril had never been much for the subtle approach anyways.

  Nadine parried his blow, then slid under his scything second attack. She aimed a stab up at his gut.

  He twisted, catching the edge of her long knife and deflecting it before it cut him open.

  She laughed.

  Regnuthu take her, she was actually having fun. And she wasn’t even breathing hard, for Eru’s sake. She was moving with such fluid, dexterous strikes that Kendril felt like a clumsy oaf in comparison. Her swordsmanship was outstanding, her footwork impeccable.

  And Kendril was beginning to suspect that she was deliberately playing with him. She wanted the panic, wanted the fleeing house of people to create even more chaos and confusion…

  It was the perfect cover for Bronwyn and Mina to escape.

  Kendril set his face. He was being played. And while he fought with this cursed assassin, Vorten’s fate was being sealed.

  He pressed in with another fierce attack, slashing both his blades in quick succession.

  She parried both strikes with ease, then skipped back towards the rear of the stage.

  “Bronwyn was right,” she said jauntily. “You are a lot of fun, Kendril.” She turned and ran up the flight of stairs that led to the faux castle wall backdrop behind them.

  Kendril clenched his hands hard on the hilts of his two swords, then followed quickly after her.

  The foyer was filled with screaming, jostling people, all desperate to get outside at once. They were shouting, cursing, pushing, and pulling on each other in the general panic.

  “Well,” said Tomas with his usual droll inflection, “this will definitely bring the gendarmes.”

  Olan stepped out of the way as a group of nobles hurried past him down the stairs. He stared down at the seething crowd below them. “Hamis?”

  The bearded Ghostwalker nodded. “Aye?”

  “You and Callen watch the doors. Don’t let anyone with the Soulbinder leave.”

  Hamis looked down at the crowd, then back at Olan. “How are we supposed to do that? Anyone of those people could have it.”

  “Then keep your eyes open for Dutraad’s wife or the witch,” Olan snapped.

  Callen gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what either of them look like.”

  Hamis shook his head. “Sorry, mate. Neither do I.”

  Olan shot a glance over towards Tomas.

  “Sorry,” the gaunt Ghostwalker replied to the unspoken question. “I’ve seen Lady Dutraad, but not the witch.” He glanced down at the panic below them. “But in that, I don’t think there’s any realistic way to find either of them, much less stop them.”

  Olan drew his sword. “We have to try. Change of plans. Tomas, you and Callen watch the doors. Hamis, you’re with me.”

  The burly Ghostwalker pulled out the double-handed sword that had been badly hidden under his black cloak. “Where are we going?”

  Olan turned towards the stairs. “We have to help Kendril before he gets himself killed.”

  Hamis followed after him, pushing several fleeing people out of his way. “I didn’t think you cared,” he shouted down at his commander.


  “I don’t,” Olan roared back over his shoulder. “But we need Kendril to find the witch!”

  “She’s breathing, at least.” Maklavir leaned away from Kara, and sat back against the wall. “And there’s some color back in her cheeks. I’d say that’s a good thing.”

  “Yes,” said Joseph anxiously. He glanced towards the open door of the dressing room. The distant sounds of screams, shouts, and the ceaseless pounding of feet came rolling down the hall into the room. “Can you hear it out there? It sounds like the whole bloody Void has opened up. Pure chaos.”

  “Yes, well that certainly sounds like Kendril’s work.” Maklavir gave a heavy sigh.

  Joseph put one hand on the hilt of his sword. He glanced down at Kara’s huddled form, his face torn with indecision.

  “I’ll stay with her,” Maklavir said softly.

  Joseph stared down at the girl. He drummed his fingers on the rapier handle. “I can’t go,” he said between his teeth. “I…can’t leave her. Not again.”

  “You’ll do no more good in here,” Maklavir said firmly. “I’ll keep the fire going and watch over her. Kendril may very well need you.”

  Joseph hesitated by the door. He looked over at Maklavir, the agony showing on his face.

  “As Eru is my witness,” the diplomat said, “I swear to you that no harm will come to her. Now go.”

  Joseph nodded. He gave Kara one last look, then ran out the door.

  Kendril reached the top of the set. He prayed the structure was sturdy. It was painted to look like an old stone Rajathan wall about fifteen feet high. Really it was made out of flimsy wood. It was probably safe enough for singing extras walking and standing on it.

  Whether it was designed for a life-and-death struggle was another matter entirely.

  Kendril dropped into an attack position.

  Nadine lunged at him almost as soon as he cleared the stairs. Her blades flickered through the air, whispering poisoned death.

  Blades clanged in rapid succession as Kendril blocked the blows, then swung a return strike at the assassin’s head.

  Nadine ducked under the blow, then straightened and attacked again.

  Kendril was still out of breath, and the run up the stairs hadn’t helped. His whole body ached, his head was throbbing, and even the old crossbow wound in his side was flaring up with pain again. He gave a ragged breath, fighting through the pain of his weary body.

  Nadine jumped back. She sprang over a box that was wedged against the wall.

  Kendril should have followed relentlessly. Instead he paused for a moment, trying desperately to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart.

  With one swift motion Nadine sheathed both her daggers, then flipped the hooded robe she wore back from her shoulders.

  The dark cloak fell in a heap to the ground around her feet. Underneath the loose-fitting robe the assassin was dressed in form-fitting leather armor. Daggers and throwing stars were tucked into specially-designed pockets on her legs and vest.

  Kendril stared, confused and wary.

  Nadine winked at him, then vaulted over the side of the battlements.

  Kendril rushed to the edge.

  The assassin caught an out-jutting section of the set, swung around it to lessen her fall, then landed as gracefully as a cat on the wooden stage below. She turned her head back to look up. Her long brown ponytail twisted across her shoulder like a snake. The white half-mask she wore gleamed in the light of the stage’s glow-globes.

  Fifteen feet. Kendril could already hear his ankle snapping from the fall. He took a deep breath and prepared to jump.

  Nadine whipped back an arm.

  The air hissed and flashed as several small throwing blades leapt forward.

  Kendril instinctively jumped back, using the wall as cover.

  Nothing happened.

  “Goodbye, Kendril,” the assassin called out.

  Kendril rose from hiding. He heard a snapping, tearing sound above his head.

  He looked up.

  There, twenty feet above him, hung a massive set-piece, shaped in the form of an absurdly-exaggerated beast of the Void. It lurched downwards suddenly as one of the ropes holding it up snapped, cut by Nadine’s throwing blades.

  A second rope was already fraying and twisting badly.

  “Ashes,” Kendril spat. He turned for the stairs.

  The rope broke, and the set piece came crashing down.

  Chapter 13

  Kara moaned softly. Her head moved just slightly underneath the blanket.

  Maklavir slid over next to her. “Kara? Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes blinked slowly open. She turned her head sluggishly. “Mak…Makl--?”

  “Yes, it’s me.” He stroked her face gently with his hand. Her cheek was cold. “Joseph has gone to help Kendril. You gave us quite a fright.”

  “So…cold…” she whispered. Her eyes slipped shut.

  Alarmed, Maklavir bent in closer. His hand was still on her cheek. “Kara?” He glanced up at the fire. He had already thrown another of the desk drawers onto the blaze.

  “Mak…Maggli…” she murmured. Her voice was drowsy and slurred, her eyes closed.

  Maklavir leaned in. He kissed her on the lips.

  She sighed softly.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Kara, I promise.”

  “Mmm.” Her head settled back down to the floor. Her breathing became slow and steady again in sleep.

  Maklavir scooted back to the wall. His hands were shaking.

  Where had that come from? He looked guiltily at the door.

  No sign of Joseph, thank Eru.

  Maklavir closed his eyes and banged the back of his head reproachfully against the wall. “Steady on, Maklavir. Get a hold of yourself.”

  He opened his eyes again, and looked over at Kara’s sleeping form.

  Tuldor’s beard, she was naked under that blanket—

  A huge crashing roar like a cannon shot echoed down the corridor outside the dressing room.

  Maklavir jumped to his feet.

  What on Zanthora—?

  Flying debris sprayed from the collapsing set piece in a billowing cloud of sawdust and pieces of wood.

  The Void creature shattered in two pieces. One of its wings cracked off and slapped with a boom against the back of the stage. A faux tower crumpled under the impact, taking out the red curtain that covered the side of the stage as it fell.

  Fire flashed from the Void creature’s nostrils, spurts of flame that licked the demolished castle wall. The pyrotechnics, designed for a controlled fiery burst at the climax of the opera, raged out of control.

  Flames began to lick and caress the shattered set piece, climbing higher and higher on the heap of broken wood.

  Nadine licked her lips, relishing the sight of all the destruction she had caused.

  There was no sign of Kendril. The Ghostwalker was undoubtedly buried under a ton of broken set.

  Correction. Broken, burning set.

  Nadine allowed herself a quick sigh. All too disappointingly easy. The Ghostwalker had been slow, granted, and a little on the clumsy side, but the way Bronwyn had spoken of him, Nadine had been expecting something a little…well, more.

  Almost reluctantly, Nadine turned towards the orchestra pit.

  Two other Ghostwalkers were there. One held a longsword, the other a two-handed greatsword.

  “Surrender yourself!” Olan called.

  Nadine felt her heart lift a little.

  Apparently the fun wasn’t all over just yet….

  Callen struggled to see into the mass of people down below them. “What are we even looking for?”

  “Ashes if I know.” Tomas bit back an even nastier response. He gripped the railing, his eyes flashing back and forth over the fleeing guests. Surely these doors weren’t the only exit to the theater? How did they even know that the witch would come this way? And what if Kendril already had the Soulbinder, or had killed the witch himself?

  I
n that case, they were wasting time sightseeing out here when they could be back in the theater, actually—

  He saw them.

  Tomas stared for a moment, stunned into temporary inaction.

  There were two of them, Lady Dutraad and another dark-haired woman that Tomas could only assume was the witch Kendril had mentioned. They were both strolling casually towards the doors.

  And there, hanging around Lady Dutraad’s neck in plain sight, was the Soulbinder.

  Tomas felt his stomach lurch at the sight of it. It was pure evil, a sphere of darkness that absorbed the light. The glow-globes even seemed to dim as the Soulbinder moved past them.

  “There,” Tomas said, grabbing Callen’s arm. “The two women. Quickly, let’s go.”

  He turned for the stairs.

  And then it hit him. Lady Dutraad and the witch.

  They weren’t even trying to hide.

  Nadine raised her hands to show that she was unarmed. “More Ghostwalkers? This really is my lucky night.”

  Olan watched her suspiciously. He motioned to Hamis. “Disarm her.”

  The bald Ghostwalker nodded, then moved towards the assassin.

  Nadine cast innocent eyes on Hamis. “So, the girl with the white hair? She was one of you?”

  He paused. A flicker of anger and worry crossed his face.

  “She was very pretty.” Nadine smiled. “It was a pity to kill her.”

  “Hamis,” Olan said slowly and quietly, “get her weapons. We need her to find the witch.”

  Hamis bared his teeth. He hesitated.

  He was enraged, unsettled, torn between following his commander’s orders and just lashing out with the sword in his hands.

  Nadine could see it all in his eyes.

  Perfect.

  She leapt forward, cartwheeling across the stage so quickly that neither Ghostwalker even had a moment to react.

  No knives this time, she decided. Kendril had been so disappointing as an opponent, she needed a little fun as compensation.

  Hamis reacted a second too slow. He swung his massive sword in a two-handed swipe.

  Clumsy and rushed.

  Nadine ducked under the attack.

  The blade actually swished less than six inches from her face.