“Shit!” he exclaimed, hesitating only a second before sprinting down the hallway toward the chambers.
“Stop,” the guards at the end of the hallway said. “By whose authority are you traveling this hall?”
“Captain Falconer’s,” Esselles lied.
“Impossible. He is inside and he did not inform us anyone would be joining him.”
“He must have forgotten. I was to deliver a message and return with the answer.” Another wash of hatred and blood lust washed over him. He could feel and hear the demon’s thoughts loud and clear through the link. “I’m on the list,” Esselles said, turning so his badge was obstructed. “Esselles Hawkblood.”
The second guard pulled a scroll from a niche in the wall and began looking through the names.
At the same time, the wave of hatred grew suddenly stronger and it was mixed with a wave of delight so primal and malignant that it shocked Esselles. Oh shit, it’s happening, he thought. It’s now or never.
“He’s on the…” the guard began but never finished.
With his adrenaline already flowing, Esselles bowled into the one guard and ducked inside the reach of the second. He drew his sword and struck him across the back of the skull with the pommel. He grabbed the door and slipped through into the hallway beyond.
*
Rigalli Clyne heard the sound of combat down the hallway they just passed and stopped. “Back here,” he called to Batine.
They raced down the hallway toward the council chambers. Ahead of them, one of the guards was racing through the doorway, the other, lying on the ground, holding his head.
“He went through there,” the prone guard said with a wince.
Clyne threw the door fully open and raced through. The hall split in three directions, a myriad of rooms beyond. The guard had pulled up short at the intersection, unsure which direction Esselles had taken.
Clyne immediately took command. “You,” he said, pointing to the guard, “left. Batine, center. I’ll take right. Yell if you find him.”
*
Esselles had not needed to hesitate. As soon as he had hit the intersection, he knew where the demon was. The closer he got to the demon, the stronger the sending became.
A guardsman stepped out of one of the rooms as Esselles went running past.
“Come with me,” Esselles commanded without pause.
The guard stopped for a second, but then followed.
Esselles reached the door and never slowed down. He jumped, bringing the full weight of his shoulders against the union of the double doors. The wood splintered and the two doors swung open.
Esselles staggered from what awaited him inside the council chamber. The dual sensation of the demonic sending and the stench of fresh blood completely overwhelmed his senses. The guardsman who followed also pulled up in shock, but more from the carnage that was in front of them.
The room was littered with the slain and rent corpses of guards and barons. Immediately in front of them were two dead guards lying in pools of their own blood that poured out of gaping wounds at their throats. At the council table, two barons were sliced open and sprawled across the table. A third was a blackened husk against the far wall, his retainers burnt right beside him.
But none of this death or carnage struck Esselles as hard as what he saw at the head of the table. There, lying on his sword in a pool of his own blood was the form of his emperor, Bracconius Dhunami.
It only took an instant for Esselles to take it all in. He looked over to where the demon now stood. It had a baron trapped in the corner of the room. A guard, badly cut up, was interposing himself between his lord and his lord’s assailant.
The demon, upon seeing Esselles enter the room, flashed a wicked smile at him. The demon had clearly begun reverting to its natural form. Its smile had many more teeth than it should have, its shoulders were bulging through the guardsman uniform, and its hands ended in large, sharp claws.
The demon laughed and swung a powerful stroke that cut through the guard’s sword. The demon’s sword showered blue sparks as it sheared through its opponent’s weapon. Esselles knew they were more than the sparks of metal on metal. The demon was wielding an enchanted blade.
Esselles exchanged a glance with the guard who had followed him into the room and they split up and began approaching the demon, swords out.
The baron’s guard lunged and drove his broken sword into the demon’s abdomen, but the demon ignored it and with its clawed hand, tore out the throat of the guard. It pushed the guard away, a stream of crimson flowing from his neck, and approached the baron.
The baron was cowering in the corner. The demon dropped the sword, leapt onto the baron, and sank its teeth into the neck of the baron. It twisted its neck like a dog and pulled out a large chunk of the baron’s flesh, spitting it towards Esselles.
“Bastard,” Esselles cried as he raced towards the demon.
The demon bit down on the baron again, this time lifting its head back and swallowing the chunk of flesh, its eyes glowing with malice. The demon let go of the baron who slumped to the ground, further painting the floor red.
Esselles launched himself over the fallen guard, right toward the demon, but before he reached it, there was an audible pop and the demon was gone. Esselles crashed into the wall, dropping his sword in the process.
With a whoosh of displaced air, the demon appeared on the back of the guardsman who had entered with Esselles. It casually wrapped its big hands around the man’s head and with a violent twist, snapped his neck.
“I wanted to save you for last,” the demon hissed at Esselles. “This body of yours had been a prison. It will give me great pleasure to tear you limb from limb and eat you at my leisure.”
“Then come and get me,” Esselles said as he picked himself off of the floor. He saw the sword the demon had discarded in front of him and slipped his hand around the pommel. He felt a warmth spread through his hand.
“STOP!” came a shout from the doorway. Batine charged into the room.
The demon whirled in his direction and raised an arm. Esselles took off at a dead sprint towards the demon. Batine threw a dagger at the demon, striking it in the chest. At the same time, the demon unleashed a bolt of energy that flashed toward Batine, crackling in the air as it traveled.
The energy enveloped Batine and he collapsed to the ground in a cry of pain. But Esselles kept his focus on the demon, driving the point of the enchanted blade into the back of the demon, just below the lower left portion of the rib cage.
“Thanks for the tip,” he added in cold determination and anger as he drove the sword in.
The demon let out a ghoulish howl of pain. Esselles’ hands were washed with a sizzling white energy and the sword crackled blue sparks as well. Adding to the pyrotechnics was a strange opalescence that formed around Esselles’ body. It provided a stark contrast to the bright green ichor that flowed from the demon’s wound.
The demon lurched forward, pulling itself off of Esselles blade. Esselles raised his sword for another strike, but was not able to complete it. The demon held out its hand and Esselles was struck in the chest by an unseen force, sending him flying backwards across the room. He landed in a crumpled heap by the edge of the table.
The demon stood up and was trying desperately to reach its back, but its arms, still not returned to their original length, could not adequately reach the wound. It was only able to partially close the wound, and as such, magical energy continued to flow out its back, causing an occasional spark or glow in the air.
Esselles got back to his feet and prepared for another assault of the demon. The demon brought both arms together in front of his chest and unleashed a massive energy bolt. It sizzled through the air and Esselles was only partially able to jump to the side. But the opalescence flared up again and the majority of the energy cascaded down the magical shield, burning into the stone floor. Though little made it through, it was enough to cause all of Esselles’ muscles to contract, and h
e collapsed to the floor in a spasm.
The demon roared out in anger. YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! it blasted into his head.
Esselles tried to retort, but his jaw muscles remained clenched. Then he remembered the link. But I’m not, am I.
The demon’s head turned toward the door. Esselles thought he could just barely make out the sounds of boots on stone. The demon turned back toward Esselles. I’ll be back for you later, it projected.
The demon walked toward one of the niches in the room and crouched to the ground. Meanwhile, Esselles was beginning to regain control of his muscles. He was able to crawl over to the dropped sword. Ahead of him, beyond the demon, a small black spot appeared in the air in front of the wall. It quickly expanded until it was a circle about four feet in diameter. The demon looked back at Esselles one more time, sending him mental visions of him being rent by the demon. The demon then turned toward the portal he had created.
Esselles was now able to stagger. He raced as fast as he could, but the demon dove through the portal before Esselles could reach it. He stood in front of the portal, watching it slowly draw in on itself.
His attention was grabbed by a shout of “NO!” from the doorway. He turned to see Rigalli Clyne and about five or six guards pour into the room. Esselles looked about the room, just as they did. He realized he was the only person standing and he held a bloodied sword.
The Uranthian warrior began to charge Esselles, racing toward the end of the council table. Behind him, another entered the room.
“HAWKBLOOD!?!” Landir cried out upon seeing him across the room.
Esselles began to panic. He began to raise his arms in submission, but it did not look like the Suregrave was going to stop.
His attention was again pulled away from the Uranthian as someone else pushed through the guards into the room. She was dressed in lavender and white and immediately ran towards the fallen emperor.
“FATHER!” she cried.
“Rashel?!” escaped Esselles’ surprised lips.
Clyne leapt over the chairs at the end of the table and was nearly upon him. Esselles’ mind raced along several tangents, all simultaneously, as Rashel cried out, “You’ve killed my father! You bastard!”
They think I did this. The emperor’s dead. Rashel is the emperor’s daughter? They think I killed the emperor. The Suregrave is going to slaughter me. The portal is still partly open, can’t they see it? I’ve got to get out of here. I’ve got to kill the demon. I’ve got to explain what’s happened. I’ve got to leave!
The last thought proved to be the decisive one. Esselles dove headlong through the tiny remains of the portal, barely getting his shoulders through.
Chapter Eighteen
“Get a mage in here,” Landir told the nearest guardsman, who, like most of the people in the room, stood in utter shock. “NOW!” he bellowed to wake the guardsman from his stupor. The guardsman scurried off.
“You too,” Landir said to another. “Find the nearest mage and bring him here.”
Outside the room, a commotion was growing.
“Where’s Vaneir?” Landir asked no one in particular. “Find him at once,” he ordered two other guardsmen.
“Clyne, Harton,” he called, “close and secure the doors. We don’t need things stirred up worse than they already are.” Landir made his way over to Rashel, who was sobbing, huddled over her father.
It appeared to take the Suregrave a moment to realize he had been addressed. Finally, he shook his head and joined the guard in closing and securing the door. Harton remained on the outside to take charge of admitting people to the room.
“Why’d he do it?” Clyne asked as he walked back over to Landir. “Why would a guardsman turn against his own emperor?”
“I don’t know,” Landir said. He grabbed Clyne’s arm and moved him away from Rashel. “Judging from the way he exited the room, he had outside assistance.”
“A former mage of Malustreure who has waited all this time to seek revenge?” Clyne asked.
“Quite possibly,” Landir answered in a hushed tone. “I just can’t believe he’d do it. Not him.” He looked about the room. “I also wonder how he managed to take out this many guards. I mean he was a good swordsman, but not that good. At least not from what he demonstrated in training.”
“The element of surprise can only explain the first few,” Clyne said, looking about the room, trying to read the battle. “From the looks of things, I would say he took the two guards at the door before they even realized anything was amiss. Then it looks like he attacked the Urigrave. However, I find it hard to believe he could get from the door to the Urigrave without anyone intervening. Yet, none fell along that path.” He knelt by one of the guard corpses to examine the wounds.
“What makes you think he attacked the emperor immediately after the guards at the door?” Landir asked.
“I looked at his sword strap. It is broken, not undone. He also had a large wound in his side. I know the Urigrave. He would never expose himself like that. Unless he were desperately trying to draw his sword.
“Yet, if Hawkblood had had to work his way to the Urigrave, he would have had time to draw his sword. That’s why I’m convinced he came there next. Almost everyone else in the room had their swords drawn. The Urigrave did not. It is still underneath him.”
They looked over to the fallen form of the emperor. Clyne squinted. “Wait a minute. That’s not the Urigrave’s sword.”
They walked over to the emperor’s body and knelt down next to him briefly. They then stepped back out of Rashel’s hearing.
“No, that’s clearly a standard guardsman’s blade. He must have clutched it to him to keep Hawkblood from using it,” Landir said.
“But then his sword is missing. Hawkblood must have it,” Clyne said, the sound of anger creeping in his voice. “Now that I think of it, the sword he was holding as he dove through the wall could well have been the Urigrave’s.”
“Captain,” one of Landir’s sergeants called. “Come take a look at this wound.”
Landir and Clyne walked over. “What is it?” Landir asked.
“Teeth marks,” the sergeant said.
“Look at the size and spacing of the teeth,” Clyne said, running his finger across the jagged wound. “About twice that of a human’s, both in size of the jaw and size of the teeth. Whoever did this, it was not our guardsman.”
“Demon?” Landir conjectured.
“It could certainly explain his escape method. And what happened to Batine,” Clyne added.
“Batine? What about him?” Landir asked.
“That’s him,” Clyne said, pointing to the charred body on the floor. “He got here ahead of me.”
“My gods, I didn’t recognize him,” Landir said.
“I wouldn’t have either, had I not known he was here. We had been chasing Hawkblood together,” Clyne explained.
“Where is that mage?” Landir asked in frustration. As if summoned by the question, the door opened and the guard who had found him ushered in a young mage.
“Can you contact your master?” Landir asked. “Have him come at once.”
“Not directly, no,” he answered. “The Master was back at the guild. I’ve sent someone outside the castle to contact him. The castle protections prevent us from contacting him directly.”
“How adept are you?” Landir asked.
“Not very, I am sorry to say. I was stationed at the secondary duty station in order to signal any alerts and send any communiqués within the castle.”
“Can you contact Vaneir?” Landir asked.
“I will try, sir, but the chief of security is difficult to locate if he does not wish to be located,” the young mage explained.
“Well, he knows there is a third order alert in effect. I imagine he will be making himself available. Please try.”
“Yes, sir.” The mage sat down and concentrated, sending out his consciousness in search of the mental signature of the chief of security. The trance did
not last long, as Landir had predicted. “I have contact, sir,” he told the captain.
“Inform him that the emperor and four barons have been slain. The assailants have fled magically,” Landir instructed him.
The mage’s face blanched upon hearing the news of the death of his emperor, but he sent the message anyway. “Sir, he says there is a commotion at the ecclesiastical gate and he believes it to be the assailant. He is closing in and will inform shortly.”
“Thank you, young man,” Landir said. “Any word on Balderon yet?”
“Yes. I have just been informed he has entered through the royal entrance, and…” He let his sentence drop as a portal opened up in front of them and the mage stepped through.
Balderon looked about the room, both with normal vision and with his magical senses. “The emperor is still alive,” he stated almost immediately.
Audible sighs of relief were heard throughout the room.
“What?” Rashel asked, moving away from her father as if she were fearful she might harm him further.
“He wears magical protections that place him in stasis if his body receives too great a shock. The device then tries to repair the damage done. I can see it still working on his body, but while in stasis, his life signs are virtually non-existent.”
Rashel’s sobbing renewed, but this time they were tears of joy.
“That is great news, my lord. We feared the assailant, or assailants, had slain him,” Landir said.
“Were there any witnesses?” Balderon asked.
“Not of the actual combat,” Clyne answered. “Only of the escape. He dove through the wall on the far side of the council table.”
“A gate?!” Balderon asked rhetorically.
“Pardon?” Clyne asked.
“A magical gate. Similar to how I entered the room,” Balderon explained.
“We believe so. He dove forward and disappeared into the wall. I could see a small black circle in front of him, about two or three feet in diameter.”
Demonified (Hawkblood Chronicles Book 1) Page 20
