by Rhyll Biest
Chapter 16
Adriel eyed the blanket of sour, pus-yellow cloud that rolled in as low as a hellhound crawling on its belly. It watched balefully as he and the others neared the fortress.
Tension weighed heavily in his gut as he rode past hundreds of legion soldiers lying in mud. They were strewn about like detritus picked from giant teeth.
Detritus. Discarded rubbish.
Would Valeda discard him once the war was over?
An image of her—white, deadly and beautiful—flashed before his eyes before he could stop it. What had she told him once? That feelings could be more dangerous than the enemy, liable to rend a demon apart without even the ceremony of a battle.
She’d been right.
He wanted to love her, but for her, love was a twisted thing kicked out of shape by her brother, something she wanted nothing to do with.
And there he’d been, trying desperately to hold onto her, while the tighter he grasped the more she slipped away from him. Just as his hold on his identity slipped away as the curse ate at him.
Even now it thundered in his ears, turning the throb of his companion’s hearts into the dismal beat of war drums. It turned his companion’s thoughts and feelings into scents he breathed in. Ipos was wary. Spark was eager. Justice was hungry for blood.
He signalled to them, forgetting for a moment that his armour bled seamlessly into the devouring darkness of the starless sky. ‘This way.’ He turned his dread mare towards the east side of the fortress. Five dozen or so enemy soldiers milled uneasily atop, watching, ready to pour boiling tar and oil from the parapets onto anyone who gathered at the bottom of the walls.
Adriel craned his neck to stare up at the tattered flag flying from the battlements. If Paimon wasn’t such a steaming turd he’d surrender, allowing his remaining legions to live. Instead he was wearing his royal denial pants and had holed up, leaving his remaining forces to fight to the death. For half a second, a familiar dire veil of red descended. He blinked it away, breathed the rage out and waited. The fear of turning into a hellhound in front of his troops now perched, a dark, macabre parrot on his shoulder, to incessantly whisper and chatter in his ear.
If they saw him change before their eyes, would they desert him?
What would happen then?
Pushing his fears away, he focused on the task at hand. He scanned the surrounds of the fortress and the nearby village. The war had made a meal of the town. Deserters swung from trees and signs, their strung-up bodies swaying in an ugly chastisement made more dismal by the groan of rope grinding against wood.
He looked away. The only demon that deserved to hang was Paimon.
A survey of the interrupted streets revealed dead and wounded demons littered everywhere, their sap running freely over stone to mingle with mud. By them lay objects out of place—an overturned chair with three legs, a wooden trunk. They were signs of a population fleeing the battle that had moved from fields and into marketplaces, businesses and homes. He eyed a half-demolished theatre, the gallery seating strewn with corpses.
Movement on the castle battlements caught his eye. Standing apart from the legion soldiers were three figures—one bronze-skinned male and two she-demons, one with green hair and one with yellow hair—a rainbow of hate ready to pour death and destruction on him and the others.
Justice gave a low growl as she stared up at them.
‘Ready?’ Adriel jerked his chin at the battlements.
Ipos simply nodded while Justice busied herself fastening her armour tighter. One part of him dreaded a maleficence battle, while the other was twitchy, eager to smash the heart of the enemy.
They dismounted and a soldier ran over to lead their dread mares away. Adriel nodded to Justice and Spark. ‘You’re on.’
Spark grinned then raised her hands and allowed a mass of plasma the size of a horror bird egg to form between them. The sting of ozone burned the air. ‘For the king.’
‘For the king,’ Adriel and the others murmured.
She hurled it high, unleashing a thunderous cascade of lightning that struck the fortress, the explosion so loud the ground trembled and everyone crouched and covered their ears. The smell of scorched granite and flesh blew their way.
Justice straightened and rubbed her hands together. ‘For me,’ she whispered as a fine ball of threads formed between her hands, each thread glowing hot. Rubbing her hands over and over she grew the threads into a football of fire.
Ipos took her by the elbow. ‘Now?’
She nodded, and Adriel and Justice rested their hands on Ipos. He was the best air-walker, faster than any of them.
Adriel drew a biting, cold breath of nothing before searing smoke filled his lungs. He dropped into a crouch as Justice flung her football of fire at the nearest enemy—Borus instead of the two poisonous she-demons.
Their plan had gone off track already.
The ball of flame arced in a spiralling descent towards the pyro-demon who ducked out of its way. It exploded in a burst of burning threads upon the stone and those demons standing nearby choked on the thousands of fiery cinders that thickened the air. As Borus fled, Justice and Spark chased after him.
Adriel searched for Ursus and Disarli. Sword at the ready, he peered through the smoke and fire. Fuck it, he’d never find them this way. The lack of visibility almost made him walk into a giant cauldron of hot liquid and an enthusiastic sword that was swung by a legion soldier. As he beheaded the other demon, he braked, the stench wafting from the pot giving him pause. Ice trickled down his spine. The mixture in the cauldron was not hot oil but rendered-down mud snakes with artificially enhanced putrefaction. Rot-sap.
He’d seen it used once before on a hapless legion, the mess of foul, polluting liquid infecting its victims immediately, causing their skin to erupt in lesions and decay as they tried to claw their distorted eyeballs out while choking on putrescent screams. The tainted soil of the battle had grown only the most noxious of weeds for centuries, weeds that had been fenced off to save burying all the dead grazing animals that piled up overnight.
Two heartbeats approached him through the smoke.
He parried an attack by a soldier, and he was uneasily peering through the smoke to locate the second heartbeat when something hit him hard in the back. Twisting, he stumbled and came face to face with Ursus. Her toxic yellow hair fanned out in the wind, and her aura was a yellow cloud of putrescence, stoking the air with death. Instead of a sword she carried a small silk pouch.
Ipos appeared behind her and stabbed her deep through the neck before gasping, choking, and falling to his knees with a hand over his lower face.
Adriel turned to parry the swing of an enemy sword. He dispatched the soldier with a thrust and turned to heal his friend, only to find him already dead, his lips an odd blue colour.
Where was that yellow-eyed, murderous bitch? He stilled, listening for her heartbeat, unable to keep himself from picturing ripping it free from her chest.
Something thudded against his back and he whirled to face his attacker.
Ursus grinned at him, yellow eyes mischievous. ‘I thought you’d be more fun than this, captain.’
He lunged for her but another legion soldier came between them and by the time he’d felled him the she-demon had darted out of sight.
Cursing, he raised a hand to his back. Something tickled, wriggled there.
He choked as searing pain engulfed his back, forcing him to his knees. Unable to reach beneath his armour to tear at whatever was in his flesh, he threw himself to the ground and writhed, creeping dread oozing through his veins as invisible creatures bored into him, tunnelling and sliding through his flesh like hot needles. A sickly grey worm dropped onto the battlement stone at his feet and wriggled, blind and helpless.
Weeping worms.
He retched with repugnance. His gaze nailed to the cast-off worm, he pictured the others eating into his flesh, burying through to destroy his organs in a joyful, haemorrhagic orgy.
&n
bsp; A boot scraped the stone behind him.
Don’t turn around.
If he turned, he would find Ursus waiting, ready to breath poison in his face. Desperate, he crawled away from her to the far edge of the battlements. As fast as he self-repaired, the weeping worms bored back into him, making his body into a buffet. Consciousness tried to creep away.
Valeda …
The world fell silent.
As he struggled, facedown, against the darkness, hands tore at his armour. A cool palm rested on his back, numbing the pain.
Valeda?
‘Are they gone? All of them?’
‘Yes, darling, they’re all gone.’ It was a cool, feminine voice and for a wild second he knew his wife had come to his rescue, before logic and the faint aroma of aniseed erased his hope.
The she-demon touching him was not his wife.
The roof of his mouth ached as fangs tried to push their way out. Everything flattened as the number of scents on the wind multiplied by ten. No, not now. Not now.
Cheek pressed into the cold, gritty stone of the battlements, Adriel willed the hellhound to recede before flinging himself to one side, bowling over the she-demon. He grabbed hold of her arm, the bones frail beneath his hand.
A yellow gaze met his, bright with malice. Ursus.
He drew deep, prepared to suck her very marrow out with his speed drain, to drag her power through her pores until she bled. He drank with greedy thirst, ignoring the boundaries of their separate bodies, the bump of her pelvis against his as he held her down.
Laughter forced his eyes open.
‘What a naughty boy you are.’ Ursus yanked her arm free
He blinked. Why hadn’t she killed him? Why had she let him heal himself? Weeping worms lay scattered about him, writhing and curling in blind rhythm. His skin crawled, both at the sight of them and what he’d done—he’d touched her toxic skin to juice up. Already a mild paralysis stole through his hand, spreading up his arm.
She laughed. ‘Can you stand? Or do I need to carry you to my king?’
Her tinkling laughter grated on his nerves and at first he put the tension in his jaw and the red haze that clouded his eyes down to her taunt. Until his skin rippled.
Bitch. It was his last rational thought as he fell to all fours, his nose twitching, sight greying and flattening out, and his ears pinned back against his head.
As the change consumed him, she bestowed upon him her most loving death stare, her yellow eyes wide, her scent rancid with poison. And something grazed his ears before settling about his neck and tightening.
A noose.
He bared his fangs and snarled, his hackles on end as he twisted to face the second enemy. He stared into the mould green eyes of the she-demon, savouring the way her heart went wild in her chest.
Something tugged at his insides, but hesitantly, as though confused by his non-demon composition.
His skin twitched and prickled as her haemorrhagic power caressed him, inviting him to collapse from within. Although he growled and snapped, his nose warned him that mauling the she-demon would kill him. She wore the foul stench of putridity like a heavy cloak.
Disarli.
He hunkered down to await a better opportunity for escape.
‘You were right. We can’t use our gifts on him when he’s in that form.’ The green-haired she-demon’s tone was equal parts surprise and disappointment. She carried two ropes and slipped the second noose around his neck.
‘I told you so.’ Ursus took the second rope and tugged it tight. ‘Now, let’s go walkies. And don’t make me use this.’ Disarli raised a long-handled goad with a razor-sharp hook designed to cut through the thick pelt and flesh of a recalcitrant hellhound.
He bared his fangs.
***
Valeda grabbed the discarded scythe as Cadere advanced on Lore. The handle was so cold it burned her hands but she used it to bar Cadere’s way despite the blisters it raised. What voices did the archdemon of decay hear? Very unpleasant ones, probably. Valeda wasn’t going to let her torture Lore.
Back away, back away, the voices within her whispered in alarm. But Valeda stood firm, determined to protect Lore. ‘Leave her alone. Can’t you see she’s beaten?’
Cadere’s mottled green eyes flashed with anger. ‘Get out of my way.’
Cinna moved between them. ‘Now, now, ladies, let’s not maim and disable over trifles.’
Cadere cocked her head and studied Cinna for a long moment before her hand rested on Cinna’s shoulder. Any other demon would have fallen dead on the spot, but Cinna, as a necro and a child of decay, was left unharmed.
Cadere smiled. ‘You’re one of mine, little one, I won’t hurt you.’
Cinna smiled. ‘Thank you.’ She slid a gold ring from her pocket and held it out on her open palm. ‘I stole this earlier today. May I offer it to you?’
Cadere took it, turning it towards the candlelight to study the ruby stone. ‘It’s pretty, thank you.’
‘Does my brother bring you stolen treasure?’
Cadere hesitated before answering. ‘No.’
Cinna rolled her eyes. ‘I knew it. My brother was always such a self-centred lump. If I were your protégé, I would bring you a mountain of stolen things every day to feed your glory.’
Cadere’s finger stroked the handle of her whip before she jerked it free from Lore’s neck. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, and I would ask for nothing in return but to serve you. I bet my brother does nothing but ask for things.’
Cadere’s awful gaze shifted to Valeda. ‘He does.’
Valeda shuddered. It wasn’t hard to guess what her brother had asked Cadere for.
Cinna sighed. ‘And I bet he’s stupid enough to offer you lots of dead in return. Like every dimension isn’t already filled with dead.’
‘You’re very astute.’ Cadere eyed Cinna, the ghost of a flirtatious smile curling her black lips.
‘I try my humble best.’ Cinna looked down at her feet.
A speculative gleam lit Cadere’s green eyes. ‘If I make you my protégé, will you expect me to kill your brother? Spare your sister here?’
Cinna locked eyes with Valeda. Trust me, her eyes said. ‘No, I serve you. It’s not my place to expect anything.’
Cadere busied herself hitching her whip to her belt but Valeda caught her pleased expression. Manipulated by a master of the art and not even aware of it.
‘Well, I won’t kill your brother but I will spare your sister. I’ve always been gracious and not at all petty.’ She glanced at the dying Lore, and her fractured eyes filled with contempt. ‘I’m done here. Come along, my protégé.’ She wrapped her mud-coloured arm around Cinna. ‘Would you like to steal some things with me?’
‘I’d like nothing better.’
The two of them disappeared in a cloud of dust and ash.
Lilith’s tits, how had Cinna known Cadere was as big a klepto as her? Something to ask her later. Valeda sagged as all the tension left her body. She’d been a hair’s-breadth from being struck down by the archdemon of decay. But she had survived.
‘Psst, Valeda, is it safe to come out? Is crazy-pants gone? Cadere?’
She recognised her sister’s voice. ‘It’s safe.’
Semya stepped out from behind the doorway, alone.
Valeda frowned. ‘Where’s Lymenia?’
‘Gone to check on Hakan’s troops. Although I think she’s secretly embarrassed at backing down from a fight, even if it was with an archdemon.’
Valeda gave a soft snort. ‘She showed some sense for once in her life; maybe she’s finally grown a brain.’
Semya flicked her a worried look. ‘I hope Cinna knows what she’s doing by hitching her wagon to Cadere.’
‘I do too.’ Valeda frowned at the shattered roof of bones. Without being able to see the moons it was impossible to measure the pass of time. ‘Can you check on Adriel’s troops? They may be ready to make their move on Paimon’s fortress now. Let me know if they
need extra help.’
Semya nodded. ‘What are you going to do?’
Valeda’s gaze shifted to Lore.
‘Oh.’ Semya pulled a face. She recognised dying when she saw it.
Once her sister had departed, Valeda knelt by her old mentor. The archdemon’s breath came in rasping pants. Threads of green riddled her white gaze. ‘My Valeda. You’ve always served knowledge, been loyal to it. You’re still my loyal one, aren’t you?’
Ah, cunning Lore, afraid at the end.
We’re all afraid at the end, her imaginary friends whispered.
Valeda took her hand. ‘Yes, I’m still loyal to knowledge.’ That much was true, though now she’d learned the worth of other things.
Lore gasped. ‘I wanted so much more. An eternity of learning.’
Valeda bit her lip.
‘What? What is it?’
‘I used to think that was all I wanted.’
‘And now?’ Lore grimaced in pain.
‘I think I’ve been starving myself of other things.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Then Lore did something Valeda hadn’t ever seen her do before. She cried. Milky tears ran down her cheeks to drip from her chin as she gently took her shaking hand from Valeda’s. She twisted the gold ring on her finger. ‘You want your heart? It’s yours. Take it from my finger. And take this.’ She drew something from her pocket and opened her palm. Another ring, plain silver to look at. But Valeda guessed what it really was—Lore’s maleficence. The voices within her clamoured, jealous and greedy at once. Give it to us.
‘No, I can’t take it. Use it to heal yourself.’
The archdemon stared at the silver ring. ‘Perhaps if I hadn’t given you that other bit of maleficence I could have survived this.’ She closed her eyes again. ‘Although I could probably recover from this if I killed you now and drained you.’
Valeda stiffened.
‘But I don’t want to do that. I’m tired. So take this.’ She pressed the silver ring into Valeda’s hand. ‘And, as my chosen successor, pursue all the mysteries on your own.’
The ring was so cold it burned Valeda’s palm, but she tightened her fingers around its vibrating power. Lore’s successor? The honour was so huge Valeda could barely wrap her head around it. Valeda Ronove, the archdemon of All Knowledge.
