by Gail Dayton
"They're getting a bit restless in here as well. I think we've used up our welcome.” At the gate, a plump, obviously pregnant young woman stared worriedly through the bars, clutching a toddler in one arm and holding the hand of another small child who held the hand of one a bit older, perhaps Sky's age. When Padrey appeared with his niece, the woman gave a little cry and rushed forward to hug them, children trailing her like ducklings.
"She would not go with the others,” Obed said. “I take it this is the missing child?"
Kallista nodded. “And an extra. He may have family."
Padrey's sedil released him, then smacked his head. “Why didn't you tell me you married the Reinine?"
"Ow. Why does everyone keep doing that? I'm injured. Look.” He showed off his new scar, rubbing his head exaggeratedly.
"If you didn't deserve it, we wouldn't do it.” Kallista smacked him again, gently, and bowed. “I am Kallista Varyl. I hope our other iliasti have introduced themselves to you.” Quickly she introduced those who had been in the House with her.
"N-nanda Suverr,” the young woman stammered, hoisting the baby higher so she could bow.
"If I'd told you I married the Reinine,” Padrey said, “you wouldn't have believed me."
"I might,” Nanda protested.
Kallista looked around the street. Viyelle was right. The locals were getting restless, and most of these were not the poor, angry over losing work to the slaves. Here in the wealthy sector of town, the people owned slaves, or aspired to own them. They wouldn't appreciate losing them.
No one was throwing stones yet, or threatening attack. They merely gathered in clusters, muttering to one another, sending evil looks toward the Adaran troop gathered outside Penthili House. A block or so away, Kallista saw Samerics rounding the corner, coming to whip the crowd into a fury. Padrey had needed the time they had taken, and it hadn't cost them anything to take it. But the situation had changed.
"We should go,” she said. “Padrey, are you strong enough to ride alone?"
"Yeah. Fine."
Kallista wasn't sure she believed him, but she let it go as he swung onto the mount they'd brought from where he'd left it.
"Leyja, would you take Nanda up with you? Divide the rest among you and let's go.” Kallista mounted. “I'd like to check with the temple nathains, see if they've found anything—but if the streets are too rough, we'll go straight to the embassy."
"If things get too rough, you can put them to sleep like you did in there,” Torchay said, the red-haired boy clinging behind his saddle.
"I'd rather not. I won't run out of magic, but I could run out of strength.” Kallista watched as the last child, the littlest, was handed up to Aisse, and a pair of soldiers helped Nanda onto the horse in front of Leyja. “Besides, we don't want to terrify all of Mestada. It would be nice to have one or two of the locals on our side. Let's avoid trouble if we can."
Besides, who knew if the magic would come the next time she called it? She couldn't let them know that, of course. No use worrying them over something that might not happen again. If they stayed away from the riots, everything would be fine.
She signaled the captain and Kargyll led out.
Kallista studied the scowling Daryathi in their knots and clumps as she rode past them. Unease shivered down her spine. Danger prickled her skin. Worried, she reached for magic, and breathed a sigh of relief when it answered. She didn't see any demons nearby, but—she spun a thread of magic into a tracker-alarm, to hunt for trouble and warn them if trouble was found. She used the rest to build shields around their troop.
Something was still wrong.
What? Kallista rose in her stirrups to see beyond her bodyguards and the reduced escort. Nothing. Or nothing in particular. Nothing any different than it had been a few ticks past, before she felt this way.
She tried to sort out the wrongness. The air tasted off. Sounds echoed oddly. Colors twisted. She counted her links, tested them—maybe someone was ill. Gweric's cold could have spread—but everyone seemed fine. What in heaven could it be?
Another shiver of alarm, almost panic, whispered through her. It felt—she reached for the feeling, nearly caught hold before it faded to nothing. Her magic failing again? Was this how it felt? Was it leaving her completely?
Fighting down the panic, Kallista checked her shielding—standing strong—and her tracker magic. It hummed straight ahead. Had it found something? She couldn't tell. Nothing definite, then. But the magic was working.
She drew out another little thread, feeling a touch of smug triumph when it came skipping into her hands. The magic wasn't the problem. So what was?
Alarm, warning shivered along her nerves again and Kallista tossed the magic at it. The magic strengthened the feeling, clarified it, gave it a definite taste of ... Keldrey.
Goddess, oh Goddess, if Keldrey was that worried—the children—Kallista fumbled for magic to call the farspeaker she'd brought with her entourage. Taylin had been left at the embassy for just such emergencies, to call if help was needed.
Kallista's call slammed into a wall and shattered. A wall of—
"Ride," she shouted. “The embassy's under attack! Hurry."
The wall was demon-built, echoing her shielding, but black with malevolence. The demon couldn't get past the shields she'd built round the embassy—she hoped—but she couldn't get past the wall it had built. Not with her magic. Not at this distance.
"Who's attacking?” Joh asked. “How many?” He'd been an officer in Adara's army like Kallista had, but with the infantry. He had more experience planning actions like this one promised to be. Kallista wished she had something to tell him.
"I don't know. I can't get through to Taylin or anyone.” Kallista pushed her horse faster, despite the way it slipped on the cobbles at that speed.
Torchay caught her reins and forced her to slow. “If your horse falls and you break your neck, you won't reach them at all. And if you can't reach Taylin, how do you know they're under attack?"
"Keldrey,” she said. “I sensed Keldrey. He's that worried. The demon's built a shield wall around my shielding and it's blocking my magic. But Keldrey's ilias, even if he isn't marked. There's a link. Can't you feel it?"
Torchay shook his head, but he pushed their speed right to the edge of danger, just short of Kallista's recklessness. He obviously felt the same urgency she did, now she'd explained.
Kallista drew magic, needing to do something more than just ride, but when she called it, she didn't know what to do with it. She wanted to be close, right on top of the demon, so the magic would obliterate it with the first blow.
She held the magic, filling it with her anger and determination, with the demons’ names, and without warning, she could see it. Zughralithiss. As if she peered through a ship's telescope, the distance between them withered to nothing.
The demon shields shimmered darkly, half-hiding it behind them. She could see her own shields glowing around the embassy, holding the demon and its hordes between the two, in the wide street outside the front wall. The demon hovered, spread thin over the howling mob. The iron-barred gates held, so far.
A little pile of bodies lay crumpled in a semi-circle around the gates, where Adaran musket fire had taken a toll. As if through fog, Kallista could see movement in the outer court, soldiers firing, reloading and firing again. But the bodies created a protective barricade for the Daryathi to bring up their own few musketeers and crossbowmen to fire back.
"Joh.” Kallista called him over, described what she saw.
Rioters began to scale the walls, vulnerable because they were too narrow to post guards on top. Troopers picked the climbers off before they got inside, but soon there would be too many to shoot them all and the outer courtyard would have to be abandoned.
The demon flowed from one point to another, seeming to renew the Daryathi's fury wherever it went. It was anchored in one person—tall, white or gray-haired, probably a woman, Kallista couldn't tell more—but the dem
on seemed able to spread out from that anchor and directly influence everyone it touched. More Mestadans came through the demon shield to join their fellows, stirred up by Sameric fanatics.
Her horse reared and Kallista clutched at it with hands and legs, her attention jerked from the embassy ahead to those riding with her. They'd stopped; Torchay had stopped her horse.
"We're close,” he said when she looked at him. “We can't take babies into battle.” He gestured and Kallista turned to see the troop escort she'd sent to the embassy from Habadra House and a clutch of kilt-wearing slaves.
"The Adarans from Habadra are inside,” the officer in charge of the half-troop reported. “We were coming back to join you and found these."
"They're not all Penthili,” Padrey said. “Word's getting out."
"Is it true?” a young man among the slaves shouted. “Are you taking us all home?"
"Yes, it's true.” Kallista stood in her stirrups. “I am Kallista Reinine and I tell you so myself. I will take you all home. As soon as I deal with the demon-touched vermin that dare to attack my children."
"Let us fight with you,” another man cried.
"You have children of your own to protect.” Kallista signaled and the passengers were set down. “And news to share. Spread the word. Gather the rest of our people. Keep them safe. There are those in Mestada who would be happy to see you go. Ask them to help. As soon as I can, I will send soldiers to bring you safely in. Until then—” She looked the group over, trying to think what else she had to do. “Look after each other."
She settled back into the saddle as Kargyll gathered up her reunited troop. Before Kallista sank back into her magic, she murmured to Joh, “Give them their orders. I know you have a plan. Just get me close enough to destroy that demon."
"Yes, my Reinine.” Joh gave her a little bow and rode the few paces to confer with the captain.
"Joh—” Kallista called as she realized. “I may have to break though those demon-built shields before we can reach them. Let me ride a little closer and find out."
"We'll all ride a little closer.” Torchay hadn't let go of her reins.
Kallista let him do as he wished, sliding deep into the magic. The demon's walls loomed ahead of her, rising halfway to the heavens, spreading outward across the city's streets as the thing fed in the strength it gained from mortal rage and pain, hatred and death. The street where she stood made an inward bulge in the inverted bowl of the demon shield. Soon, if nothing changed, they would be encased—perhaps trapped—in a bubble.
Kallista sidled her horse closer, stretched out both hand and magic to touch it. She couldn't see it with physical eyes, but she felt it, so cold it burned. She jerked her hand away. Her magic slid along it, rain over glass, unable to find purchase or access.
The demon lifted, opened a trio of red glowing eyes, and turned them on her.
Godstruck. The unspoken naming shivered through her. For too long you have been a thorn in my side.
You've been a pain in my ass just as long, Zughralithiss. She hesitated. Khoriseth? Is that Khoriseth with you? In you?
The demon's blackness rippled, squeezed, thumped. The third eye vanished. And opened up again in a different part of the dark flow.
My offspring does not seem to want to be reintegrated. The demonstuff rippled again. It is an indigestible lump in my belly—or what passes for a belly among myself. I should never have split them off from me, allowed them independence. But they're all gone now, taken back into myself or destroyed by you. All but this miserable lump. Children are a sad disappointment, don't you agree?
My children are pure joy.
What lies. They quarrel. They disobey. They whine. Endlessly, they whine.
True. Kallista smiled. But they are a joy nonetheless. So why don't you let down this wall? I will rid you of your disappointment and return to my joy.
I think not. The demon billowed high, filling the space inside its shield. While we have had our chat, my—what is the word? Minion. Yes, my minions have breached your walls. They will carry me inside your shielding and I will destroy your joy and feed on your pain before I crush you into dust.
"No!" Kallista screamed, sending the magic she had been steadily building exploding outward. It crashed into the demon shield, and for a long agonizing moment, the shield held. Then, finally, it shattered.
Not all of it. Only an opening the width of the street where she and her godmarked and the troop could pour through into the riot-filled space in front of the embassy. The demon shield tried to mend itself as they rode. She held open a tiny gap and threw shielding back through, over the huddled slaves, before the demon's wall closed again, locking them inside.
"At a canter,” Captain Kargyll called. “Charge!"
The troop leaped ahead, spreading out to fill the street side to side, two ranks deep, facing the demon's forces. The first rank carried their carbines. The second held cavalry sabers, ready to take the lead after the volley was fired, to allow the first rank time to draw their sabers. There would be no time to reload.
Kallista spurred her mount, ready to charge after them, forgetting Torchay still held her reins. Her poor horse tried to obey, circling him, fighting for its head.
"We follow,” Torchay shouted at her. “But slower."
"Form up," Joh called.
Kallista fumed at the waste of time as her iliasti moved into positions they'd decided on without her. Obed and Fox took the lead in a wedge formation, with Joh and Leyja behind and outside them, Viyelle and Aisse in a third rank even further out. Kallista rode in the center, directly behind the two leaders, with Padrey and Torchay on either side of her.
"Can we go now?” she asked caustically. “Before the demon kills my children?"
"We're already moving,” Torchay growled back. “You're no’ in this alone, woman, and I'll thank you to remember that."
Blast the man and his attitude. Kallista reached for the magic, cursing when it responded sluggishly. “Padrey, what are you doing?"
"Nothing. Riding.” He gave her a bewildered look.
Kallista swore and hauled hard on the magic. She stretched, looking past Obed and Fox as the carbine volley sounded and rioters fell. She regretted the necessity, but she needed to save her magic—her strength—for the demon. She couldn't put them to sleep like she had the others. The magic never ran dry, but her strength was all too finite, and she'd been flinging magic with abandon for hours. The second rank surged ahead and crashed into the mob, breaking it apart, crushing it under flying hooves. The first rank followed, sabers flashing.
The crowd disintegrated, screaming as they fled. The troopers didn't pursue, fighting straight ahead, clearing a path to the wide-open outer gate.
Her magic rushed toward her in a sudden gust and Kallista scrambled to grab it, managing to stay astride only by instinct and years of riding. What was wrong with this stupid magic? She had a demon to fight. She didn't need to fight her magic too.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The wedge of her godmarked hit the remnants of the mob, scattering it further, dealing sharply with those still inclined to fight. Kallista shaped her magic, gifted it with both demon names, and as she plunged through the gate, she let it fly.
The hunter shape of the magic arrowed straight toward the demon where the spiderweb shape she'd made clung, wrapped around it to prevent escape. The dark destroying veil dissolved the demon's substance, eating through it like acid on stone. The demon shrieked, recoiled, sent claws lashing out.
It struck just as Kallista saw the gaping inner gate. Terror for her children blended with the sharp pain of the demon attack, tearing a scream from her throat. She had to save them.
She threw herself from her horse and dashed ahead, through the inner gate, across the courtyard into the embassy.
"Kallista, wait!"
Torchay's shout was noted and dismissed. She couldn't wait. Her children needed her.
Darting through wide chambers and down narrow corridors,
Kallista drew magic, struggling with its erratic response. She swore as she fought it. Where was this attitude coming from? She did not have time to stop and straighten out her iliasti.
The magic bucked and she slapped it down. She shook it, willing it to behave, to do what she wanted it to do, as she ran blindly ahead. Straight into the arms of Daryathi champions.
Kallista laughed as one of them snatched her up, pinning her arms to her sides. She didn't need hands to use her magic. These men had no idea what she could do. She split off part of the magic and shaped it. Just as she pushed it out to drop them in their tracks, it crumbled. Vaporized into nothingness.
No! Not again.
She heard Torchay bellow her name as her captor bore her off, leaving his comrades to fight. She heard the clash of steel as her men attacked the champions behind her. Obed would be at Torchay's side, fighting with his usual silence. Fox—yes, that was his shout. Kallista tested her links, counted them, shielded them. They were all there. So why wasn't the magic?
She couldn't even reach through the links and touch it inside them. It was there. She could sense it. But she couldn't touch it.
Bouncing over the shoulder of the champion in the unpainted kilt as he carried her deeper into her residence, Kallista called her old magic, the lightning that had come to her when she was leaving childhood. With her hands pinned against her hips this way, she would burn herself as badly as the man who carried her, but she didn't care. She wanted free. She needed to save her babies.
But if she broke free now, she would be alone in the midst of the demon's minions with her magic gone missing. And if she didn't free herself, they would carry her to the leader of this attack—and that person's demonic rider.
And her magic had gone missing.
She wanted to reach the demon. But with her magic. Without it, she was as helpless as one of the slaves she'd just freed, as one of her children. Where had it gone?
Once more, she reached back down the links with her godmarked, almost dove bodily through them to grab hold of her magic. It slipped through her grasp like minnows in a pond. The sound of fighting grew louder again. She was out of time.
