The Rise of the Demon Prince

by Robert Kroese

  The ridgeline slowly descended and widened into a shallow slope that led to a small canyon, beyond which were several small hills. By the time I reached the bottom of the canyon, I could hear the howls of the monsters behind me. Forcing myself not to look back, I continued running until I reached the hill. Gasping for breath, I risked a glance over my shoulder as I climbed. The demons were still nearly a quarter mile off but gaining on me. I pushed onward.

  I surmounted the next hill, and the one after that, finding myself looking out across the unbroken plain. In the distance, Sotetseg beckoned. I ran down the hill toward it. As I neared the plain, though, I realized it was farther away than it looked. Sotetseg was still over a mile away. I doubted I could reach it before the beasts overtook me. I’d begun wishing I had tried to find a cave where I could hide—or at least force the beasts to attack me one at a time, rather than all at once. But I could not hide forever, and in any case it was a vain hope now.

  By the time I reached the plain, the demons were less than two hundred yards behind me and still gaining. My lungs burned and my legs ached. The creatures showed no sign of slowing. There was no way I was going to make it to the keep. I turned to face them, my hand going to my side, where I ordinarily kept my rapier. It wasn’t there, of course: I’d lost it when I stabbed Voros Korom.

  As I waited for the demons to overwhelm me, I was struck by a sense of familiarity. I knew this place. Although the plain was almost completely flat and uniform closer to Sotetseg, there was enough variation in the terrain here that I was certain I had stood in this very spot. The appearance of the nearby hills confirmed it. Every time I appeared in Veszedelem, it was in this same place. And somehow, intending only to take the most direct route through the hills, I had ended up here again. Why?

  I had asked Eben why I always arrived in the same place, but he hadn’t given me an answer. Was there something special about this spot? Something Eben didn’t want to tell me? If this place held some special power, might it be possible for me to transport my physical body back to Orszag from here? My military experience screamed at me to stand and fight, to at least make the demons work for their victory. But I didn’t have the luxury of opting for a valiant death when survival was a possibility, no matter how remote. The demons were now only a stone’s throw away. I closed my eyes and forced myself to forget them.

  I allowed my mind to drift to the in-between place, from where I could observe (if that’s the word) both Veszedelem and Orszag. This time, though, my physical body was on the other side of the line. I reached out toward it with my mind, but it was as immovable as stone. There was no way I could pull my body over the barrier between the worlds.

  Recalling how I had created the kovet, I turned my mind toward the flow of tvari and pulled some of the stuff toward me. When I had as much as I could hold, I let go, allowing it to flow into my body until it permeated every atom of my being. In all likelihood, the tvari would tear my body apart, but as I was facing imminent death, I had nothing to lose. Perhaps I could at least kill a few of the demons at the same time.

  To my surprise, the tvari flowed into my body like water into a glass. When my body had absorbed as much tvari as it could hold, the flow stopped. I still held the other end of the tvari, which now formed a sort of tether between my consciousness and my body. I pulled on the tether and felt a momentary flash of panic as my consciousness moved toward my body, rather than vice versa. I quickly realized, however, that this was only a matter of perception: neither my consciousness nor my body was actually moving; I was closing a sort of metaphysical gap between the two. There was no longer any “in-between”; in fact, there never was. What I had perceived as physical distance between Veszedelem and the in-between was simply the difference between two different modes of perception. I had no more moved from one place to another than a man who first has his hands clamped over his ears and then puts them over his eyes instead. By the same token, neither were Veszedelem and Orszag two different places. They were the same place perceived in two different ways. Tvari now seemed to me not so much a sort of substance or energy, but rather a source of awareness. By tapping into the “flow” of tvari, I was actually expanding my own ability to perceive and act on the universe around me. That universe was made up of Veszedelem, my own world, and an infinity of other “worlds” that were each only facets of reality. And by releasing the tvari, I could allow myself to again to be restricted to a narrower form of awareness, which I would experience as traveling to one particular world. Now that I saw it, I could hardly believe it was so easy. I let my mind drift back to the well-worn track of perception that I’d come to associate with my own world, like a man lapsing into his native tongue the moment he returns to his hometown. The tvari left me, and I felt something cold and hard against my cheek.

  Opening my eyes, I found that I was lying on the icy grass of the courtyard in front of Magas Komaron. I sat up and heard a voice call my name. Turning, I saw Vili running toward me. An arrow shot past at a sharp angle overhead. I glanced up and saw the head of Voros Korom, just visible over the battlement at the top of the tower. Wraiths whirled around him, held at bay by flashes of yellow light emanating from somewhere out of sight.

  Vili helped me to my feet. Rodric and Ilona approached.

  “That’s the last of my arrows,” Rodric said. “It’s up to Domokos now. What happened to you? I thought you’d vanished.”

  “I’ll explain later,” I panted, locating my rapier on the ground where Voros Korom must have hurled it. I went to the rapier, picked it up, and ran toward the steps to the tower. So exhausted was I from my flight from the monsters and my manipulation of the tvari that I had to stop halfway up the stairs to rest. Sweat soaked my clothes and my legs were on fire. I heard Rodric shouting from below.

  “Konrad, no! You cannot fight the wraiths! Let Domokos—”

  The rest of his words were lost to my hearing as I forced myself to continue up the stairs. By the time I reached the top, Voros Korom had Domokos backed against the eastern battlement, wraiths swarming angrily about them. Hovering just above the palm of Domokos’s right hand was a flickering yellow glow. It was barely holding the wraiths off, and it faded rapidly as I watched. Voros Korom approached slowly, clearly on guard. Despite the direness of our circumstances, I had to smile: the demon hadn’t expected this level of resistance.

  “Voros Korom!” I shouted, drawing my rapier. “We have unfinished business!” It was a foolish thing to do, but I couldn’t let Domokos face the demon alone. And perhaps if I distracted him for a moment, Domokos might have a chance to fight him off.

  Voros Korom turned to look at me, shock registering on his face. He hesitated for a moment and then pointed at me. “Kill him,” he said. The wraiths screamed toward me. The light in Domokos’s hand winked out. Domokos fell to his knees before Voros Korom.

  I stood there like a fool, gripping my rapier, which would do exactly nothing against the wraiths. Having no more tricks up my sleeve, I faced my doom with my eyes wide open. Would the wraiths kill me or merely assimilate me? I wondered if the latter fate would be worse than being a slave to Szarvas Gyerek. I would know soon enough.

  Chapter Twelve

  A hundred contorted faces howled at me, and I felt the cold embrace of ghostly arms. And then, suddenly: nothing.

  The wraiths had disappeared, amid the sound of stone sliding on stone. The howls of Voros Korom receded in the distance. I saw now that a large section of the tower—where Voros Korom and Domokos had been standing—had disappeared.

  I ran to the edge and looked down to see the hunk of stone disappear into the shadows of the canyon far below. Rodric, Vili and Ilona soon joined me.

  “What happened?” Vili asked.

  “Domokos fooled him,” I said. “Pulled him in close and then used his sorcery to break off a section of the tower.”

  “He saved us,” Rodric said.

  “Is Voros Korom dead?” Ilona asked.

  I didn’t answer. For some tim
e, we stared into the blackness, unable to discern anything. The wind gradually died and the moon passed behind the peak of a mountain, plunging Magas Komaron into darkness. At last I saw the flickering of ghostly lights far below. The wraiths remained, which could only mean that Voros Korom was still alive. For nearly an hour, the wraiths circled like vultures over a dying animal. Then they began to move slowly north, away from the mountain. We breathed a collective sigh of relief: it seemed that Voros Korom had had enough for tonight.

  “Come,” I said. “Let’s get some sleep.”

  *****

  The next day there was no sign of Voros Korom or Domokos. Perhaps Domokos had managed to save himself, but more likely his body lay broken at the bottom of some crevice. He had saved our lives, but we could not expect any more help from him. Voros Korom lived, and we had to assume that he would attack Nagyvaros on the next full moon.

  A freezing wind continued to buffet Magas Komaron for another week. Rodric, Vili and Ilona spent their time telling each other stories and practicing with their weapons. When I felt strong enough, I began to meet again with Eben. He was often unavailable, busy with some task for Szarvas Gyerek or some other project of which he would speak only in the most cryptic way. It was clear that Eben was plotting something, manipulating Szarvas Gyerek in some manner, but I could not determine more than that. In any case, I could only go to our meeting place and wait for him, hoping he would impart some morsel of information about the shadow world or working with tvari. If I was to defeat Voros Korom, I would need as much help as I could get.

  The wind finally died on the eighth day after the full moon. The air warmed significantly in the early afternoon and promised to remain above freezing during the night. We spent another night at Magas Komaron rather than brave the ice-covered steps. By the next morning, most of the ice had thawed. We packed up, taking what provisions we could find, and climbed down to the foot of the mountain. Rodric wanted to look for Domokos, but I reluctantly overruled him. We could not afford to waste a day trekking to the north side of the mountain to look for a corpse. If we were to have any chance of rallying a defense against Voros Korom, we needed to get to Nagyvaros as quickly as possible. I swore that if we survived the attack, we would return to bury Domokos and set up a monument to him. Seeing that he would not be getting any support from Ilona or Vili, Rodric acquiesced. We headed west toward the Plain of Savlos.

  Ilona said little. Whatever her motivation for seeking Magas Komaron, there was no reason for her to stay. The last pupil of Varastis was dead, and the beacon would shine no more. I supposed this would be welcome news at Delivaros, but Ilona didn’t seem particularly happy. Maybe with Varastis dead, she would be unable to use her success to ingratiate herself with the leadership of the acolytes. Or maybe, given the fact that sorcery seemed the only defense against Voros Korom, she was rethinking the acolytes’ teachings on such matters. In any case, she seemed resigned to remaining with our party until we reached the plain.

  We would not have to traverse the mountains by way of the tunnel filled with poisonous gas; Domokos had told me of a secret pass about ten miles to the north. We camped on a plateau for the night and reached the pass the next morning. It was easy enough to find from this side, following Domokos’s instructions. We wended our way along the bottom of a narrow canyon for several miles until we came to a path that zigzagged across the eastern face of the mountain that towered nearly a half-mile over us. At the steeper places, stone stairs had been cut into the mountain. After an exhausting climb of nearly two hours, we found ourselves at the mouth of a narrow tunnel. We followed the tunnel for several hundred yards, eventually emerging onto a small stone platform overlooking the plain. I had been wondering why Bolond had sent us to the deadly tunnel when there was another option, but now I saw: below us was a sheer rock wall nearly fifty feet high, and below that was a steep slope of what appeared to be loose gravel and shale that gradually flattened toward the base of the mountain. Getting down was going to be a challenge; climbing up would have been impossible.

  We had just enough rope to tie one end around an outcropping of rock just inside the tunnel and dangle the other end to the beginning of the gravel slope below. Vili went first, climbing hand-over-hand down the rope with his feet against the rock face. When he got to the end of the rope, he let go, landing on the gravel and sliding another thirty feet before coming to a halt, half-standing, half-lying with his belly against the slope. He crept sideways a few feet, sliding nearly as far downward as he did so. I went next.

  Heavier and not as graceful as Vili, I did not stop until I’d slid nearly a hundred feet. Rodric came next and fared even worse: unable to keep his feet under him, he tumbled head over heels until he was nearly halfway down the slope. He lay unmoving on the rocks, the blood smeared across his face visible even from my position nearly two hundred yards above him. Vili and I half-climbed, half-skidded down the mountain toward him. Hearing the skittering of rocks above me, I rolled aside just in time to avoid Ilona as she slid past. She stopped about twenty feet farther down.

  Rodric was up and moving by the time the three of us reached him. He was banged up and bleeding badly from a cut over his left eye but did not seem to be seriously injured. His bow was intact, but he was able to recover only one arrow from those he had salvaged from Magas Komaron. Rodric wiped the blood from his eyes and continued down the mountainside. The slope was not as steep here, and he managed to keep his feet. I followed at what I hoped was a safe distance, and Vili and Ilona came after.

  Eventually we got to a place where the slope was gentle enough that we could walk-climb downward without any great risk of slipping. It was another hour before we reached a place where we could walk normally. Two hours later, we finally reached level ground at the bottom of a shallow canyon. We took a moment to rest and tend to our scrapes and cuts and then followed the canyon south for several miles until we’d reached the place where we’d left the horses. We were relieved to find that although they were hungry and agitated, they seemed unharmed. Ember neighed and pranced excitedly when she saw me, and then reproached me with a brusque nuzzle against the side of my head. We fed and watered the horses from our supplies and spent some time grooming and comforting them. By this time, the sun was hidden behind the mountains and we were exhausted. We made camp for the night. Our location was hidden from view on all sides by hills, so I instructed Vili to try to find some firewood.

  Vili returned a few minutes later and told me there was something I needed to see. I asked Rodric and Ilona to remain with the horses while I followed Vili into the hills to the northwest. I asked him where we were going, but he insisted that I needed to see it for myself. As we reached the crest of the hill, I saw why: a few miles to the north, the plain was dotted with thousands of small fires. That could mean only one thing: the Barbaroki were on the move.

  “Where do you think they broke through?” Vili asked.

  “Kozepes, probably,” I said. “The Eastern Army is relying on the Fourth Division to defend the passes at Asztal and Tavaska. The Barbaroki wouldn’t have camped this close to Tabor Nev if they were in any danger of attack. Most likely they sent a small force through at Asztal, hoping to draw the janissaries southward, while moving the bulk of their troops through Kozepes. General Janos would not have fallen for such a ruse, but I have no doubt General Bertrek did.”

  “Then there is nothing to prevent the Barbaroki from riding across the plain to Nagyvaros.”

  “So it would seem. Come, we need to tell the others.”

  When we returned to camp, I saw that Rodric had started a fire. Given our proximity to the Barbaroki, I considered telling him to squelch it, but the night promised to be cold, and the Barbaroki would not see the fire unless they sent scouts into the hills, which seemed unlikely. We gathered around the fire and Vili and I told them what we had seen.

  “It appears that everyone has decided to attack Nagyvaros at once,” Ilona said.

  “They will reach Nagyvaros b
efore Voros Korom,” Rodric said.

  “For all the good it will do them,” I said. “Even an army of ten thousand Barbaroki cannot defeat Voros Korom.”

  “We nearly defeated him,” Ilona said.

  “No, we did not,” I said. “We had a sorcerer and the best archer in Orszag on our side, not to mention a nearly unassailable defensive position, and we still would all have been killed if it weren’t for Domokos sacrificing himself. An army alone would be worse than useless against the wraiths. The wraiths will absorb the defenders and grow stronger.”

  “Looking on the bright side,” Rodric added, “Voros Korom will eliminate the Barbarok menace for good.”

  “Nagyvaros would be better off ruled by the Barbaroki than by Voros Korom,” I said.

  “What if we warned them?” Vili asked. “They might not be so eager to attack Nagyvaros if they know Voros Korom has designs on it.”

  “The Barbaroki have been planning this attack for forty years,” I said. “They would not turn back now even if certain death awaited them beyond the gates of Nagyvaros. But perhaps we can ally with them against Voros Korom.”

  “The Barbaroki are our enemies,” Rodric said. “I may have deserted the janissaries, but I will not willingly aid those savages.”

  “It may be the only chance we have,” I said. “If, as I suspect, the Fourth Division is more than a hundred miles south of here, there is nothing to prevent the Barbaroki from crossing the Plain of Savlos. Nagyvaros could hold off a small force until the janissaries arrive, but judging by those fires, that Barbarok army numbers at least ten thousand. If they start across the plain tomorrow, they will hold Nagyvaros in a week.”

  “Then Voros Korom will be their problem,” Rodric said.

  “And mine,” I reminded him. “I am not so easily rid of my burden.”