Demonkin (16 page)

“Balazel,” Sera whispered.

The Mavoureen stood twice as tall as Byn, but half of that height was its grotesquely oversized head. It had glowing red eyes half as tall as Sera, and its muscular body rippled with strength. Its scales were thick and black, its mouth open to reveal teeth as long as swords.

“I’ll take him down.” Byn scribed Kermodo on his chest, growled deep, and charged Balazel. So impossibly brave. The Great Bear had taken Byn, body and soul, and it wouldn't be nearly enough.

Sera dashed after Byn. Attacking this demon was futile, but what else could they do? Wait and die? If they died here they would still have their souls, and their souls were all she cared about now.

She took the dream world and tossed a Hand of Breath. Balazel swatted it away and laughed. Byn swung his quarterstaff into one of the demon's glowing red eyes so hard his staff cracked. The effort took him off-balance.

Balazel snatched Byn's cloak and yanked him into the air. It held Byn at arm's length as he kicked and spun about, eyes bulging. He dropped his quarterstaff. He clutched at the clasp now choking him.

”Stop it!” Sera scribed a desperate Hand of Heat before a pain like chilled knives slipped through her back, through her chest. Her glyph faded as she dropped to her knees. Cold spread and Balazel leered.

A dark, misty demon tendril slipped through her chest. It wound in and through her, joined by others. Sera felt her lungs tighten.

Balazel sauntered forward as Byn's body dangled and spun. “Have you never experienced the touch of a defiler? Is it not exquisite?”

Jair's dead hands settled on Sera's shoulders. He pulled her up, smelling of dirt and death. Byn's face was purple now, his limbs hanging limp.

“Please.” Sera managed to whisper. “Don't kill him.”

“I'm not here to kill him, little one!” Balazel dropped Byn's unconscious body with a thump. “I'm going to take him home.”

“Don't.” Sera struggled to speak, to breathe, and each word cut her open inside. “Take me.”

“I will!” Balazel’s rancid breath made her gag as it loomed over her. “You hurt us, little one. All of us. Now we'll all journey to the Underside together. There, atop a sea of broken bodies, you will watch Paymon rip Byn apart.”

Paymon the Patriarch. Kara had mentioned him. Balazel grabbed Sera in one massive arm and tossed her over his shoulder, then did the same to Byn. It carried them off to be tortured in the dark.

Sera tried to move, tried to fight, but the defiler floated with Balazel and its tendrils sapped her will. Balazel walked from the library and out into the storms. Jair's silent corpse watched them go.

How was Balazel here, in their world? Torn's spectral storms would not hurt this demon — those storms only affected humans — but a Mavoureen could not enter their world without a gate. This simply was not possible!

“It's a shame, really,” Balazel said as it trudged beneath a roiling sky. “Soon, you won't care about any of this.”

Once they reached the gates of Terras, Sera saw Blue and Notch hanging from the walls. Equine terror twisted their once kind faces. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. What type of a monster slaughtered a horse?

“You’ll forget this world, this man,” Balazel said. “Your soul will become ours and you’ll know nothing but agony and fear. That's why we must hurry to the Underside. I need you to watch Byn suffer before you forget.”

Sera's execution glyph would end her, certainly, but that left Byn with Balazel. It would torture his soul like it had tortured Aryn’s, with knives and flames and racks. Sera could endure any fate but that.

“There is a way out,”
her demon whispered.
“I can free you from Balazel, fill you with my power. Trust me. Believe in me.”

“I can't trust you!”
Sera screamed inside her own head.
“You're a monster!”

“I want only the best for you, sweet child. Let me save you and yours from torment and pain. I love both of you so much.”

Sera could not remember why she resisted. Every reason she summoned was hollow and false. Balazel would torture her and Byn without end, unless they stopped him. She would stop him. She would do anything.

Why did she refuse to trust this kind voice in her head? Because it was a demon? Not all demons were the same. Because it had taken her against her will? She had given herself willingly when she scribed Davazet's glyph, made a bargain, and Sera judged that bargain fair.

The demon in her head had helped her find that harvenger in Highridge Pass. It had helped her save Kara and save Byn, save everyone. She owed this Mavoureen, and what was her soul when weighed against Byn's?

Sera's terror faded, her mind going clear. Her life made sense at last. Why had it taken her so damn long?

“Do you trust me, sweet child?”

Sera accepted her demon’s love for her, accepted her fate.
“I trust you.”
Bliss filled her fading, fragile mind.
“Please. Save us. What must I do?”

Her demon showed her.

ARYN WATCHED AS TANIA EMERGED from the postern door leading through the inner walls that protected Tarna's royal palace. He could not see her expression and that frustrated him. Tania
was
alone and had returned far quicker than he had expected. How much trouble was Kara in?

Tania motioned for Aryn to follow. They walked a good distance from the postern and stopped by a cart of some sort. Its owner was absent and it smelled of raw fish.

“We can't visit Kara,” Tania said, “and I don't know why.”

Aryn considered the facts before speaking. He suspected Tania was evaluating everything he said or did, and oddly enough, that comforted him. He was being given an opportunity to excel, again, and the opportunity to be
good
at something had eluded him for far too long.

A year ago, Tania's tales of the
andux orn
would have seemed like nonsense, but Aryn had seen enough demon glyphs to know that their world needed Valar and his agents. What Aryn did not know, yet, is if he could become one of them.

Murder, even to save a soul, was a lot to ask.

“Someone above you forbid us to see Kara,” Aryn said, after thinking it through. “Given what I've seen of the respect most accord you, including those in the military, that puts the culprit in the king's inner circle.”

“My thoughts as well.” Tania leaned against the cart. “Valar's name carries weight, even with those who don't know exactly what he does, and few deny him any favor.”

“Prince Beren is King Haven's military advisor, and Royal Adept Anylus advises him in matters of glyphs. Therefore, Anylus denied you. Prince Beren has no reason to stop us, not when you're tracking a Demonkin Kara aided and abetted.”

Aryn almost said “if you're tracking Sera” but he caught himself. How could he kill Sera? He loved her. Yet would a man who loved her let the Mavoureen steal her soul?

Aryn no longer envied Byn. He pitied him. Byn was a good man, despite his history with Aryn, and neither he or Sera deserved to face such a horrific choice. They deserved a life they would never have.

Tania rested her shoulder against his arm, simple contact that made him feel appreciated and warm. He liked how she could do that. He liked a lot of things about her.

“We've done what we came to do,” Tania said. “King Haven knows the Mavoureen have entered our world. The demon general who busted his gates saw to that. So what would you suggest we do next?”

Aryn considered. King Haven and Anylus were already using every resource they had to counter the Mavoureen threat. Kara, even in protective custody, would be far safer than she had been at Solyr.

What about Trell? He remained Abaddon's captive and so far as Aryn knew, no one had gone after them. Could they track down Abaddon and free Trell? Could he use Davazet’s glyph on Abaddon if he got close? Would that glyph even affect something that had no living flesh?

“We don't know enough to make a decision.” Aryn pushed off the cart. “You have contacts here, right? Let's see what they have to say. Take a day to gather accounts of the attack and get some idea how the king plans to react. That also gives us time to get your arm fixed.”

Aryn longed to go after Trell straightaway, but Abaddon had killed dozens of soldiers and blown a tower apart. They needed a better plan than “glyph Davazet on him and hope for the best.”

Tania pushed off the cart and walked.  Aryn followed, pleased she had accepted his logic. Correct choices remained satisfying.

“Aryn!” someone called from behind him. A woman.

Aryn froze, then cursed himself and kept walking. He had likely just failed another test. Valar had sent another
andux orn
to bait him, call out his true name to see if he would react.

“Aryn! Wait!”

Why was that voice so familiar? Tania cut through the crowd and Aryn followed close, head down and hood clutched close around his head. How could anyone know who he was in this hood?

“Stop, Aryn!” Someone grabbed his shoulder, a thin hand with a strong grip. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry.” He ripped his shoulder free and walked. “Don't know any Aryn.” Then he stopped, struck by this familiar dream form. He knew this woman. He had met her in the mountains overlooking the Martial Steppes.

“Missus Tanner?” Despite his worry, Aryn could not deny Kara's mother. She must have come to see her daughter and been turned away. How long had she been here?

Aryn glanced behind him to find Tania waiting at the entrance to another black stick building. Aryn considered, turned to Ona, and beckoned for her to follow. Tania led them both inside that building.

“My lady!” A man behind what was likely the bar bowed when Tania entered. “What will you have?”

“A nap, please.” Tania did not sound like she was joking.

The unnamed barkeep led them through the empty tavern to a stock room. It remained early in the day and Aryn suspected those who spent their coin here were sleeping off the prior night. The barkeep knelt by a closed trap door.

Aryn could see that door in the dream world, the structure more apparent than it would be with real eyes. Using the dream world for his eyes had advantages, as well. The barkeep pulled the trap door open.

“You will not be disturbed.” The man bowed, one arm still holding the door upright.

Tania glanced at them. “Watch your step.” She hopped into the hole and climbed down a wooden ladder.

Aryn turned to Ona after Tania disappeared. “How did you know it was me?”

“Hmm?” Ona straightened. “Oh. Your walk.”

“My walk?”

“You walk like a noble, straight and tall and proper. No one with such a bearing would wear that ratty cloak, nor would they wear gloves in this heat. It was an educated guess.”

Aryn felt his face heat. If Ona had identified him so easily, others could as well. He would need to learn to walk differently, to slouch and shuffle. He would need a better way to hide his hands than gloves.

“Are we going down there?” Ona's voice held no hesitation, no worry.

“Yes,” Aryn said. “You can trust us.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” Ona climbed down the ladder.

The barkeep motioned with his free hand. “And you, sir.”

Aryn considered the man. He should cultivate contacts in Tarna, soon, so why not begin here? This man was already friendly with the
andux orn
.

“I appreciate your courtesy to my sister.” Aryn hoped the man would interpret
sister
the way he wanted. “If I need a nap, may I count on your hospitality?”

Even as a child in Locke, Aryn had quickly learned who among his father's staff could be relied upon for favors or indulgences. Getting what he wanted was as simple as finding the right person and pitching it in the right way. Then, of course, he still had all his skin. Making new friends would be more complicated now.

The barkeep shifted and Aryn cursed his inability to see faces. Reading expressions had been another of his skills, knowing when someone was interested or annoyed. He would adapt, perhaps listen to tone.

“Naturally,” Aryn said, “I would owe you a favor.”

The barkeep offered his free hand, still holding the trap door upright. Aryn shook it and held back a grin. He had gained an ally!

“The name's Honest Jack, good sir. You may call upon my hospitality any time.”

Aryn clambered down the ladder, well satisfied. Honest Jack closed the trapdoor, but Aryn heard no lock. He assumed the room below was lit by a lantern or torches, because Ona had not complained about the dark.

Kara’s mother waited at the bottom of the ladder, with Tania. Tania
tsked
and shook her head. “Oh, Aryn.”

“What?”

“A favor.” Tania sighed. “Well. You'll learn.” She turned on Ona and extended both hands. “Ona Tanner? I'm Tania Lace. It's a pleasure to meet you.”

“Is it? You just led me into a hole.” Ona looked to Aryn and did not take Tania’s hands. “Is what Kara did so horrible?”

Aryn grimaced. “All we know is King Haven placed Kara in protective custody. We aren't certain if they know Kara helped Sera escape Tarna ... aiding a Demonkin ... but if Anylus denied us, I'd hazard they have some idea. They know Kara lied about something.”

“Anylus denied me too. Her own mother.” Ona placed hands on hips. “He would not tell me anything, and
that
vexes me.” She turned back to Tania. “May I ask what business you have with my daughter?”

“Let's sit.” Tania backed away. “I plot better over a cup of tea.” She led them to a table and chairs in the center of the square root cellar.

What Aryn judged to be a full teapot sat on the table, along with cups. The black lines of those objects in the dream world remained recognizable, if indistinct. Aryn also saw the distinctive shimmer of Heat. Did Honest Jack keep hot tea in his cellar in case an
andux orn
needed a nap?

Tania pulled a chair out for Ona, a gesture Aryn found endearing. Ona murmured a thank you before she sat. Tania kicked another chair and sent it skidding toward Aryn. She sat herself in a third.

“Thanks,” Aryn snarked, as he imagined the face he couldn't see wearing a taunting smirk. If only he could see that face, just once!

“Here's what we know.” Tania poured them all tea. “Mavoureen now walk our world in the flesh. King Haven and his advisors must believe Kara omitted details about what happened at Terras, and her omission has likely become a sore point.”

“Because of Abaddon,” Ona said.

“That demon’s murder spree ruffled feathers and tore them out.”

Ona glanced at Aryn and sipped her tea. “You know about Terras.” Aryn suspected Ona had narrowed her eyes at him.

“I know everything,” Tania said, “and Aryn has convinced me that your daughter deserves our help. So tell me. How can I help you?”

Ona took another sip. Aryn tried his tea and gasped, finding it vexingly hot. He almost chuckled at the thought of a man who had survived the flames of Heat burning his fragile tongue on a cup of hot tea.

Ona set down her cup. “Everything Kara has done, she did to save our world and to save me. I'm not letting her rot in any cell for any reason, whether it be gilded or adjacent to the king. I want her out of there.”

“Are you sure that's wise?” Aryn asked. “She's safe where she is.”

“No,” Ona said, “she's not.”

Tania leapt from her chair and raised her hand, then simply ceased to move. As if she was paralyzed. Aryn scrambled out of his chair and spun to face a new threat, a big man standing at the bottom of the ladder.

That man had one arm outstretched. He had painted a distinctive blood glyph on empty air. Aryn had seen that glyph only once before, when Xander Honuron used it to paralyze Trell after punching Melyssa Honuron in the face. Kara's father had found them, and he might be annoyed.

“Ona,” Xander growled. “What's going on?”

Ona stood and sighed. “Calm down, dear. They're here to help us.”

“Really.” Xander did not muss his glyph.

“Mister Honuron?” Aryn pulled back his hood and stepped forward. “Remember me?”

Xander snorted. “It's not you I'm worried about.”

“This is Tania. She's a friend.” Aryn walked over to Tania and rested one hand on her raised arm, marveling at muscles drawn taut. “She's already saved my life more than once, and she fought beside me against Davazet. I trust her with my life.”

“
Mmph
,” Tania added helpfully.

“Dear,” Ona said, walking to her husband. “I came here of my own free will.” She looked up the ladder. “Just what did you do to poor Honest Jack?”

Xander mussed his glyph. Tania gasped and stumbled forward, but Aryn caught her. She did not try to glyph again. She knew better now.

“Jack's sleeping it off.” Xander sounded almost apologetic as he pointed at his wife. “You vanished!”

Xander must have seen two strange people lead Ona into a tavern and thought the worst. How had he raised the trap door, climbed down the ladder, and found them without making a sound? Kara's father remained a powerful mage.

“That's my fault, Mister Honuron.” Tania offered an elegant curtsey. “May I call you Xander? Kara's freedom is a delicate topic, and I thought it best not to gossip beneath the palace and its lovely windows.”

“You shouldn't think when it involves my wife.” Xander grunted. “But fine. Talk.”

“Tea?” Tania raised a half-empty cup.

Aryn burst out laughing. Xander stiffened and Aryn knew how much Tania had just angered him, again, without doing anything remotely inappropriate. Tania delighted in tweaking people.

“We're not going to break Kara out.” Ona gripped Xander's arm. “I told you I would find another option. I've found it now.”

Aryn looked between the two of them. “You were going to...?” He glanced at Tania for help.

Xander patted Ona's hand. “You'd do well to be cautious of Mynt justice, Aryn Locke, especially where Adept Anylus is concerned. The man is a snake.”