“You’ve both gone mad,” Rodric said. “For my part, I do not plan to get near Voros Korom. But my bow is at your service, as always, Konrad. Perhaps I can hurt him with a lucky shot.”
“I will fight as well,” said Vili. “I am the quickest among us. If I can draw the demon’s attention, maybe you two can hit him when he isn’t looking.”
Ilona sighed. “Then I suppose I will have to fight as well. It seems that sticking together is our best chance.”
“This battle is no place for a woman,” Rodric said.
Ilona laughed. “All acolytes are trained in combat,” she said. “Specifically, we are trained to incapacitate men quickly.”
“To prevent sorcerers from using spells,” Domokos said.
“That’s right,” Ilona said. “Such skills may be useful against a demon who can flicker in and out of existence.”
“Very good,” I said, heartened by the spirit of the group, although I doubted very much that we were a match for Voros Korom and his horde. “Prepare as best you can. Rodric, you will coordinate our defense.”
“What will you be doing?”
“I must retreat to my room. I suspect my rapier will pose little danger to Voros Korom. If we are to have a chance, I must try to make use of what Eben has told me.”
*****
I spent the next five hours cursing Eben and trying in vain to channel tvari. Part of me suspected Eben had been deliberately vague about the process of summoning a kovet so that I wouldn’t try to face Voros Korom at Magas Komaron. Another part told me that my anger against Eben was interfering with my attempts at sorcery.
The truth was that I was afraid to let go of my hatred for Eben, even for a moment. I continually reminded myself that although Voros Korom was the current threat, the demon was not my real enemy. My enemy was Eben, who had stolen six years of my life, disfigured me, and violated Beata’s body, ultimately killing her. I had seen him exiled to Veszedelem, but that was not sufficient punishment. Not even close.
But if I did not first defeat Voros Korom, I would never have a chance to get my vengeance on Eben. And if I was going to defeat Voros Korom, I needed Eben’s help. More than that, I needed to trust him, at least to some degree. Domokos clearly knew a great deal about magic, but he was not a warlock. He knew little of kovets, and in some ways he knew less about Veszedelem than I did. If I was going to summon a kovet, I would have to do it on my own. And I would have to let go of my hatred for Eben, at least for today.
I had been pacing the room anxiously. I stretched, took several deep breaths, and then sat down cross-legged on the floor. I closed my eyes, breathing deep and slow. I allowed myself to forget for a moment about Beata. I let my hatred for Eben slip away. I forgot about Voros Korom, and Radovan, and Bolond. I forgot about my father and General Janos. I forgot about Bertrek, the officer who had caused me to be imprisoned for six years, and about Domokos, Ilona, Rodric, and Vili. I was aware of nothing but my own breathing. Then, slowly, I allowed my mind to drift toward the shadow world.
Before I reached Veszedelem, I pulled back. I had noticed before that it was possible to hover between the two worlds, with some of my awareness in each. It was a bit like balancing on a tightrope: my mind tended to want to go to one place or the other, and the realization that I was leaning toward one tended to result in overcorrection. After several “falls,” I began to get a feel for it. Once I could maintain my equilibrium between the two worlds without devoting all of my conscious attention to it, I reached out with my mind to explore that space. If the flow of tvari was to be found, it would be here.
After what seemed like several minutes, I became aware of something, the way you become aware of an after-image from a light after you close your eyes. The sensation I felt is almost impossible to describe; it was as if I existed in the space between the ticks of a clock, a single second expanded to infinity. What had seemed to be merely an insubstantial line, a demarcation between two realms, had become a place that was in some way more real than either of them. And that realness was composed of a vast flow of something that was neither solid nor liquid, neither energy nor matter. It somehow moved without going anywhere, and sustained reality without having any substance. I knew without a doubt that this was tvari.
I reached into the tvari with my mind the way you might dip your fingers into a stream. The stuff that was not stuff was somehow hot and cold, adamantine and insubstantial, moving at impossible speed and completely still. Part of my mind wanted to try to make sense of it. Another part warned me that if I tried, I would go mad.
Some of the stuff flowed into me (or had I flowed into it?), and I felt a surge of great strength and debilitating weakness. I was seized by the urge to get rid of the tvari, or to divest myself of it. But there was no place for it to go, nowhere I could escape from it. It was like being in a cyclone, or having a cyclone inside of me. And it was growing stronger. I managed to tear my mind away from the vast flow of tvari, but the maelstrom continued to howl inside of me. I wanted nothing more than to leave that place, but somehow I knew that if I brought the tvari back to my world, it would destroy me. The “realness” of pure tvari is too great for our world—perhaps too great for any world. It would tear my body apart.
Desperate for a way to separate myself from the tvari, I cast some of my awareness to the shadow world and found what I was looking for. From my vantagepoint between the worlds, I could see the shadowy substance that underlay the world of Veszedelem. See is the wrong word; it was as if I was perceiving with some entirely new faculty that had been dormant until now, something akin to seeing or hearing, but at the same time entirely different.
The shadowy substance flowed like murky water into the space left behind by the fleeing tvari. I reached into it, pulling away a glob of the stuff and held it before me. I allowed the tvari to flow into the glob until it pulsed and undulated with something like life. The glob lost its spherical shape, parts of it elongating into stubby pseudopods that slowly grew into tentacles. The tentacles swept about, furiously searching for something to grasp, some way for the creature to apply its will to its surroundings. I drew back in fear, realizing too late that I was falling back into the material world. The thing came with me.
I lay on my back on the floor in my room, with the kovet writhing on top of me. It was nearly as large as I, with a dozen or more tentacles of varying lengths protruding in random places from its misshapen body. It was the color of shadow, visible only as an obscuration of its surroundings. Ice cold to the touch but having no weight, it nevertheless pinned me down by adhering the ends of its tentacles to the stone floor. I screamed orders at the thing, trying to make it bow to my will, but it was no use: the kovet had a mind, or at least a will, of its own. But how was that possible? Had I inadvertently imbued it with intention? As one of its tentacles wrapped around my neck, choking me, I recalled what I had been feeling when I summoned the thing: fear—specifically, fear that the kovet would turn against me. I had made my fear into a reality.
The kovet had wrapped its tentacles around my wrists and ankles, paralyzing me. I could not breathe, and the harder I struggled, the faster my strength left me. My fingers went numb and my vision began to cloud. In a few seconds, I would lose consciousness, and soon after that, I would be dead, killed by my first attempt at sorcery. Voros Korom would kill my friends and destroy Nagyvaros. Eben would never pay for what he had done to Beata. My only consolation was that if I died here, I would not have to spend eternity in the service of Szarvas Gyerek. Or was I wrong about that as well? Would I die only to find myself reborn in the bowels of Sotetseg?
The door to the room flew open and someone came inside. I could not make out who; my head was pinned in place and my vision had gone almost completely dark. As my awareness faded, I heard someone speaking words I could not understand. Then there was a sudden flash of heat and light, and I felt the creature’s grip on my throat slacken. I gasped for air. Fuzzy shapes moved around me. I heard shouting and felt finger
s grasping at the tentacles around my wrists. Finally the thing came free, and I lay there for some time, coughing and wheezing. I sat up to see Rodric, Vili and Ilona a few feet away, still struggling with the kovet. Domokos stood just inside the doorway, trembling and leaning with his hand against the wall.
I crawled toward the kovet and grasped one of its tentacles, which it was trying to wrap around Rodric’s throat. Whatever Domokos had done to the creature had weakened it significantly, but even so it took all my strength to pin down that one appendage. Vili and Ilona were each clutching a tentacle, and Rodric lay on his side, gripping two of them to his chest. The thing’s remaining appendages writhed wildly in the air, unable to get a hold on anything. The creature gradually faded, losing strength as it did so, until we all lay there, panting, our hands clutching at vapor.
“The good news,” wheezed Domokos after a moment, “is that my defensive spell works.”
“What the devil was that thing?” Rodric asked, getting slowly to his feet.
“It’s called a kovet,” Ilona said coldly. “It’s sorcery.”
“Sorcery is our only chance against Voros Korom,” I snapped hoarsely, rubbing my throat. In truth, I was as angry with myself as I was with her. I could have gotten us all killed.
“This is something you learned from Eben?” Rodric asked, helping me to my feet. He helped me up and the others stood as well.
“Apparently not learned as well as I thought,” I said.
“You fool,” Ilona said. “You think you can defeat evil with more evil?”
“Kovets are not evil,” Domokos said. “But they are powerful. I’ve never seen one that size. If you could control a kovet like that, it would be a powerful weapon against Voros Korom.”
“You cannot be serious,” Ilona said. “A monster like that poses more threat to us than to Voros Korom.”
“Ilona is right,” said Rodric. “I am willing to face Voros Korom and his horde, but I would prefer not to die before they even get here. What were you thinking, Konrad?”
Domokos spoke before I could answer. “I did not mean to suggest that Konrad attempt to summon a kovet to use against Voros Korom tonight. The brand gives him tremendous power, but he has not had time to learn to use it. My suggestion, again, would be to allow me to face Voros Korom alone. Hide below the castle. Keep yourselves alive so that you can face Voros Korom when you are ready.”
“That seems wise to me,” Ilona said.
“Then you agree with Eben the warlock,” I replied.
Ilona shrugged.
Rodric shook his head. “I will not cower in a cellar while Domokos faces Voros Korom alone.”
“Nor will I,” I said. “This changes nothing. We face Voros Korom together.”
Chapter Ten
We spent the rest of the day doing what we could to prepare for the attack. Vili, who had spent the most time around the wraiths, had already advised the others how to avoid them. The wraiths had been at their strongest near the center of the ruins of Romok; fifty paces or so outside the ruins they faded to nothingness. If they fed on energy from Voros Korom in the same way, we were safe as long as we stayed outside that radius. Rodric had once been able to reliably hit a bullseye at a hundred yards, but of course archery targets do not move and blink in and out of existence at will. He was the only member of our party with a bow; my rapier and the daggers carried by Ilona and Vili would avail us little.
The wraiths could move faster than any man, but because each of them was composed of the souls of hundreds of individuals, they could be indecisive and slow to react. Vili claimed that by dodging suddenly and doubling back, one could evade them—at least for a time. Having seen Vili employ this tactic with minimal success, I was skeptical, but we would have to exploit every possible advantage if we were going to have a chance at holding off Voros Korom and his horde. Vili claimed the wraiths were also attracted to movement: given two targets, they tended to go for whichever one seemed to have more energy.
The plan Rodric had devised was simple: he would fire arrows at Voros Korom from a distance, hoping to blind him or at least slow him down. Vili would try to draw the wraiths away from Domokos, who would use his magic to repel those who tried to get near Rodric. Meanwhile, Ilona and I would hide in the shadows, looking for openings to attack Voros Korom. Ilona had discovered a staff, which she had cut down to a fighting stick. I observed her practicing with it in the courtyard for a few minutes and must admit to being impressed. I didn’t see what good it was going to do against a twenty-foot tall demon with skin like tree bark, though. I supposed she might kneecap him. Of course, I doubted my rapier would serve me any better.
We paused in our preparations for dinner just before dusk. We had seen no sign of Voros Korom, but we had not expected to. The wraiths had no power during the day. In all likelihood, Voros Korom would wait until the full moon was high in the sky to attack.
As the last light faded in the west, the wind continued to howl. The temperature had remained below freezing all day, which meant that the steps to Magas Komaron were still sheathed in ice. As the full moon rose over the distant range, I held out some slight hope that the demon would not be able to reach us under such conditions—and then I saw a glow of bluish-white light undulating at the eastern foot of the mountain.
The patch of light grew steadily larger and brighter, until I could make out the individual wraiths darting like ghostly mantas over the slope of the mountain. From my position at the top of the eastern tower of Magas Komaron, I could not yet make out Voros Korom, but I knew he was at the epicenter of that glow. Rodric and the others stood nearby, watching silently. There was nothing we could do but wait.
The approach of the wraiths indicated that Voros Korom was not coming up the steps, as we’d expected, but rather climbing directly up the eastern side of the mountain. It seemed impossible—there were few handholds and the mountainside was a near-vertical wall of rock in some places—but the wraiths continued to rise. Nearly an hour after we first spotted the wraiths, Vili pointed out a human-like shape clawing its way up the rock. I laughed inwardly at my hope that the walls of the castle would delay the demon for some time: he’d climbed a half-mile of sheer rock wall in less than an hour.
Still, it would take some time for him to reach the castle, during which he would be exposed to attack. Deciding to make the most of the situation, we climbed back down the stairs of the tower and made our way to the top of the eastern wall. The wraiths were now within a hundred yards of the foot of the castle; in the moonlight the dark, flickering figure of Voros Korom was clearly visible against the rock face farther down. Rodric didn’t dare risk an arrow from this distance, as he had only eighteen of them left. But Domokos found another use for his magic: speaking an incantation, he touched the base of one of the massive merlons of the battlement in front of us, causing the mortar to crack and fall away. Rodric, Vili and I put our shoulders against the merlon, causing it to roll off its base and tumble down the mountainside. The hunk of rock struck Voros Korom on the shoulder, nearly knocking him off the cliff. But after a moment’s pause, Voros Korom continued to climb.
Encouraged, we repeated the maneuver twice more, but the merlons went wide of their target. We were now panting and sweating from exertion despite the cold, and Domokos was trembling from the effort of casting spells. But knowing this was our best hope of stopping Voros Korom, we didn’t dare let up.
We had to roll the next merlon several yards to get it into position. By the time we let it go, the wraiths had reached the bottom of the castle wall. This merlon would have struck its target, but Voros Korom vanished for a split second just as it reached him. The merlon plummeted to the ground. We had only enough time to move one more into position before the wraiths reached us.
Domokos staggered to the merlon and placed his hand on it. I was too fatigued to be of any use, so I let Ilona take my place. She, Rodric and Vili maneuvered it into position over Voros Korom and heaved it off the wall. It was a near-per
fect shot, striking Voros Korom directly on the top of his skull. The demon’s left hand came off the cliff, and for a moment he hung there unmoving, like a stunned animal. So intent were we on the attack that we failed to notice one of the wraiths sliding silently up the wall toward us. Its diaphanous form almost invisible in the moonlight, the wraith had little strength this far from Voros Korom, but I knew from experience that even the touch of a weakened wraith was dangerous.
“Get back!” I cried, and the others complied—except for Vili, who had climbed onto what remained of the battlement. I realized that I’d been mistaken: Vili had seen the wraith. He had been waiting for it.
I sprang onto the battlement, my feet skittering on loose mortar. For a terrifying split-second, I was certain that I was going to slide into Vili and knock him off the wall, but I skidded to a stop a few inches behind him. The wraith had reached Vili’s feet, and Vili stood transfixed by the undulating series of hands, mouths, and other body parts spilling out of the apparition. As it rose slowly toward us, I could hear cackles, screams and moans coming toward me as if through a long tunnel. I threw an arm around Vili, trying to pull him back, but dared not move too quickly lest I slip and send us both hurtling over the edge. Vili leaned forward, resisting my efforts.
By all rights, Vili and I should already have been dead. I’d been struck in the shoulder by a wraith at the ruins of Romok, and my entire arm had been paralyzed for several minutes. If the wraith were to move a few inches toward Vili’s legs, he would collapse and we’d both plunge to our deaths. But instead, it continued to rise slowly until it the bulk of it was level with Vili’s face. The cackles and screams grew louder, and I realized the thing was fighting against itself.
“Vili!” cried a voice from the maelstrom.
“Father?” Vili said.
“Vili…” the voice cried again, nearly drowned out by screams. “Run!”
Vili’s body went slack, and we tumbled backwards off the battlement. The fight within the wraith had concluded; it now surged toward us at terrifying speed. Rodric caught me as I fell, and the three of us tumbled to the stone floor. We lay there dazed as the wraith swept forward to consume us.
The Rise of the Demon Prince Page 9
