Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian) (40 page)

“It is . . . unacceptable,” Zakaar replied, voice low but with an intensity that carried it far. He hesitated, and I felt a tremble go through him. This was the moment of decision: continue as Rhyzkahl’s ptarl or stand ground and face possibly unbearable consequences.

I slipped my arm around his waist.
I’m here for you.

Rhyzkahl sneered at my gesture, then he gave a slight nod. “Your opinion is duly noted, Zakaar. Perhaps it is time for you to leave your duties here and return to my realm.” He looked pointedly at my arm around Zakaar’s waist. “I fear you have formed unwise attachments that have warped your perspective.”

Zakaar tightened his arm around my shoulders, needing a support that went far beyond the physical. “I will gladly return to your realm if you turn from this path,” he announced, then extended his hand. “Take my hand, and we will go together.”

A low wind swirled around us, lifting Rhyzkahl’s white blond hair and setting the cattails on the lake swaying. The lord remained silent for nearly a full minute while he looked at Zakaar as if not quite certain who he was. The delay told me that Zakaar’s offer at least had him considering. More than I expected. “Zakaar, you have lost your direction,” he finally said. “It is you who must turn away, abandon these,” he waved a hand to encompass all that was Earth and humanity, “mayflies.”

Zakaar lowered his extended hand. Another bone-deep tremble went through him. “I am . . . so very sorry, Rhyzkahl,” he said, voice thick with pain.

If Rhyzkahl noticed Zakaar’s anguish, it didn’t affect him. “As am I,” he replied, mouth tight. “It is time to finish my business here. Step aside, ptarl.” He paused, smiled. “And bring Rowan to my side where she belongs.”

A burst of static had me wincing. “Kara!” Paul all but shouted in my ear. “Your name is
Kara
.”

I masked a smile and kept my arm firm around Zakaar’s waist. My posse was
awesome.
And Rhyzkahl was a parasite.

Off to my right I saw Kadir throw Asher to the ground hard. He planted a booted foot in Asher’s back then stared at Zakaar and Rhyzkahl with a look of combined horror and fascination on his face. Kadir was acting almost
human
, which was really starting to weird me out.

“No, Rhyzkahl,” Zakaar said. “I cannot,
will
not continue to be party to your machinations. I . . .” He paused, shaking, though it was only apparent to me because of my physical contact. When he spoke again his voice was strong and clear. “I renounce the ptarl bond.”

I wrapped both arms around Zakaar and held him firmly, letting him know I was here, would always be here for him. This was Rhyzkahl’s last opportunity to capitulate, and Zakaar’s last to back out.

But Rhyzkahl could only stare blankly, as uncomprehending as if Zakaar had suddenly announced he was a goldfish. “I do not understand.”

“I am breaking the bond,” Zakaar said, his trembles slowly easing. “Breaking the oath.”

Horror spread over Rhyzkahl’s face. “You cannot!” He shook his head in denial at the very idea. “The bond is inviolate,” he practically sputtered. “Zakaar, your time on Earth has driven you mad.”

Off to my right, Kadir reached down without ever shifting his eyes from us, gripped Asher by the hair at the back of his head then expertly slammed his forehead into the ground to leave the summoner stunned and limp. That done, he straightened, stepped over Asher and moved several feet closer to—as far as I could tell—get a better view. It reminded me oddly of tying up a pet dog to make sure it doesn’t run off while the owner steps away to look at something interesting.

Paul’s voice crackled in my ear. “Oh, man, the feeds are nuts! They totally shifted when you went up by Zack.” I flicked a quick glance over to Kadir as I realized it was the feeds—the potency flows—that had him so fascinated.

Zakaar slowly shook his head, eyes never leaving Rhyzkahl. “No, my time on Earth has brought me a breath of sanity.” He closed his eyes, and his focus grew palpable. Undoing the strands that held a several-thousand year old bond wouldn’t be an easy task, much like picking the lock of long-rusted prison chains, but I knew Zakaar was determined to find a way. I pygahed for both of us, supporting him physically and emotionally.

“Whoa, coooool,” Paul breathed. “Now things are coiling and going all over the place.”

Kadir took another step forward. Rhyzkahl jerked as if stung. “Zakaar!” For the first time fear flickered in his eyes. “Cease!”

“There is no stopping now,” Zakaar said in a voice full of sorrow. Uncertainty flooded to me from Mzatal, as if echoing Rhyzkahl’s experience. I touched him, sought to soothe him.

A weird non-physical vibration went through me, and Rhyzkahl jerked again, harder. Kadir’s eyes narrowed, head swiveling this way and that as he tried to assess the shifting flows. I caught a hint of movement behind me and to my right, and I glanced back to see Paul on his feet, lips slightly parted as he focused on his tablet, a bizarro mirror of Lord Creepshow’s fascination.

Abruptly, Kadir spun and moved back to Asher, seized him by the hair and dragged him to the node, then literally threw him in. The summoner disappeared with a weird
pop
, but Kadir remained and turned back to watch, having put the pet dog in the kennel.

Rhyzkahl dropped to his knees, face a mask of anguish and loss. “No. No! Come back to me,” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Zakaar!”

A sliver of pity wormed its way in, and I allowed it to remain for now. None of the lords had ever been without a ptarl.
Ever.
I couldn’t even think of a human parallel. Divorce? Not even close. Losing a limb? Horrible, but not unthinkable. Losing a loved one? A tragic part of existence, but an accepted one.

Zakaar’s arm tightened around me as I
felt
him reach for the last strand. One final cut to sever an unbreakable bond. “
Tah si firkh
. I’m here for you,” I said softly, held him to me.

His breath came in short gasps as he remained poised above that last strand. Then he tensed, every muscle rigid as iron, and made the final cut to free himself.

Rhyzkahl let out a strangled cry and fell to his hands and knees. His blade, Xhan, tumbled out of his grasp as he stared at nothing, face stricken with unimaginable loss. “Zakaar,” he pleaded.

The tension abruptly fled Zakaar, and his knees buckled. Taken off guard, I managed to lower him to the ground with a bit of control, then knelt beside him and cradled him to me while I murmured
I am here, I love you
over and over.

Zakaar, his face twisted in tormented sadness, jerked heavily, much as Rhyzkahl had done, as a low anguished noise issued from his throat. A wave of desolate despair swept over me from him. Eyes still on Rhyzkahl, he gave me a brief mental touch, like the brush of a phantom’s fingers, then vanished.

Unbalanced by Zack’s abrupt departure, I barely caught myself before going sprawling and struggled quickly back to my feet. Worry for Zack swept through me, followed by a wave of frustration. He’d sacrificed himself and now he needed support more than ever. An agonized cry broke through my thoughts, snapped me back to the here and now.

Rhyzkahl crumpled to his side then rolled to his back, eyes wide as he began to puke. With a stunned look on his face, Kadir stepped smoothly forward and rolled Rhyzkahl to his side, then set a foot on his shoulder to hold him there so he wouldn’t drown in vomit. His eyes came to me, and I felt his slicing regard. Did he fear that his own ptarl, Helori, would follow Zakaar’s example? Or did he hope for it, estranged as they were?

“Kara,” I heard Mzatal say from behind me, plea in his voice. “Come back.”

I returned to Mzatal’s side, and guilt stabbed me at the shock in his face, his unsteady breath, his uncertainty.
I should have warned him somehow.
“I’m here, Boss.”

“Kara. Zharkat.” I watched him visibly fight for focus. Now that the unthinkable had happened to Rhyzkahl, the other lords knew it was possible and could conceivably happen to them. “They are not done,” he said. “Jesral and Amkir.”

“Hold it together, Boss,” I told him, centering for us both. “Focus on the now. It’s all good.” A peal of thunder startled me, and a moment later rain pattered down in hard and fierce drops for several seconds then stopped again.

Jesral abruptly threw off the potency net that had held him. He looked just as shaken and freaked as Mzatal, but his focus returned as he concentrated on the situation at hand. Three quick strides brought him to where the blade, Xhan, lay on the ground between him and Rhyzkahl. He stooped to pick it up, then dropped it with a curse and shook his hand as if it had burned him. Jaw set, he pulled a cloth from an inside pocket of his jacket, doubled it, then carefully retrieved the blade and tucked it away. With that accomplished his attention shifted to Amkir, who still lay pinned on the ground. The two lords’ eyes met. Jesral gave a slight nod. Amkir returned it.

Those two are up to something,
I thought—and had no time to do anything more.

Jesral’s head swiveled toward me, and he lifted a hand, even as Amkir gestured to where Idris lay bound behind Mzatal. In the next heartbeat I let out a hoarse scream as the sigils on my body flared in hideous reminder of the agony that had formed them. Distantly, I heard Idris cry out, and I realized Amkir must have activated a recall implant in Idris. Like an arcane homing device, the recall was intended to return its subject to the one who placed it. But because Idris was still behind Mzatal’s protections, it could only pull; like tying a rope around someone’s middle and then attempting to yank them through a chain link fence. Pull the rope hard enough and something has to give.

Jesral twisted his hand, and instantly my agony ratcheted up and flashed in quick sequence through each of the eleven sigil scars of the lords, before settling into a steady white-hot burn. My vision went grey, and I staggered, saved from falling as Mzatal threw an arm out and pulled me back against him. The agony abated very slightly with the contact, but behind me Idris gave another pain-filled cry.

A primal scream of fury and frustration burst from Mzatal. His resources were exhausted, and I sensed his awareness that he could perhaps save either Idris or me, but not both. And then even that awareness burned away in the fury that seethed within him.

Jesral closed his fingers, and a pinpoint of searing heat like a tiny sun burned over my sternum. Red tinged my vision, and I shuddered then looked down at the arm around my waist. Why was Mzatal holding me? I began to struggle against the hold. No. I needed to return to Jesral, to Rhyzkahl.

“Kara! Kara!” Paul’s voice yanked me back to myself.

Breathing raggedly, I ceased my struggles. The sigils still throbbed, but I knew who I was. I tried to touch Mzatal through our connection, but his focus was fully on the storm as he called it closer, pulled the lightning and power to him.

Amkir snarled and tightened his hand. Idris screamed again as though being ripped apart, even as thunder pounded across the lawn. Jesral exuded cold, calm focus, a vulpine smile curving his mouth as he twisted his hand again. I jerked in Mzatal’s hold, screamed, “
KARA,
” through a closing veil of
rakkuhr
red. Mzatal raised his arm, and I
felt
him bring the lightning through Khatur. The strike came to the blade in a blinding flash that drove all hint of the red haze from me, and in the next instant the lightning split to slam into the two enemy lords. Jesral flew back nearly a dozen feet and landed in a crumpled, smoking heap not far from Rhyzkahl. But Amkir took the strike solidly, pinned down as he was, and barely had time to utter a choked scream as it seared over and through him.

The pain in the sigils stopped as suddenly as if a switch had been thrown. I dragged in a breath and leaned heavily on Mzatal as I fought to get my equilibrium back. Instead of the exhilaration of the lightning I’d experienced on the mini-nexus, this ripped through me with near-sentient wrath, disturbing and familiar.
The essence blade.

I heard Paul give an unsteady laugh, and when I looked over I saw him curled on the ground a few feet away with one arm over his head and the other holding his tablet tightly to his chest. He lifted his head, gave me a wavering grin. “That was so cool,” he breathed.

I gave him a weak smile in response. Easy to enjoy the light show when one was in a Mzatal-made protective cocoon. A dozen or so feet beyond him, Bryce knelt with a hand on Idris’s shoulder, expression tight as Idris’s body twitched.

I looked back at the lords who’d started this bullshit. Both Jesral and Amkir lay moaning, heavily burned, and clearly not an immediate threat, though Jesral struggled to get up. Mzatal’s arm remained an iron band around my middle, and I felt his rage couple with the sentience of the blade and go even darker.

“Boss. It’s done.” I pulled vainly at his arm. “It’s cool now,” I said, but he didn’t seem to hear me. I twisted to see his face, deep dread rising at the wrath that contorted his features. “Mzatal?” I sought to touch him, but a wall of anger blocked all else.

Once again he called the lightning to him. I bit back a shriek, covered my head with my arms as thunder slammed into us, and Mzatal danced the searing power over Jesral and Amkir. The two jerked and writhed beneath the assault for at least a dozen heartbeats, then Mzatal pulled it all into himself, restoring exhausted resources and supercharging.

“Stop!” I yelled at him as soon as he released the strike, but before I could take a breath to say anything more he called it again, this time enhancing it with potency and feeding it through Khatur. Blue-tinged blasts smashed into Farouche’s mansion and the Ops building, fully orchestrated by Mzatal. His breath hissed between his teeth as he raked the potency-fueled lightning over the house. Screams and shouts sounded from within as flames leapt in the lightning’s wake, and in seconds people began to boil out, fleeing like rats from a sinking ship.

I screamed at him to stop, pummeled him with my fists, but he remained utterly distant, lost in his fury and vengeance. His lips pulled back from his teeth, and I felt the power within him build like a charging capacitor. “No, Boss. Mzatal!
No!
”

I squeezed my eyes shut in pure protective instinct, and in the next instant a flash of potency burst from him. Heat seared over me, though dampened by Mzatal’s own aura and shields, but I heard a scream of agony, quickly cut off.
Paul. That was Paul!

Heart pounding, I lifted my head. Everything within a ten foot radius was incinerated to powdered ash—all save the crumpled heap that was Paul. Most of his clothing was gone or seared and stuck to the raw and smoking burns covering his body. His hair had burned away, and one ear was missing. He lay curled on his side, arms crossed over his chest to protect the melted slag that was all that remained of his tablet.

Nausea rose in my throat. Paul’s shielding had saved him from being cremated alive, but hadn’t been enough to fully protect him. It had been meant for bullets and arcane strikes, not a mini-armageddon.

I looked past him to see Bryce and Idris several feet outside the circle of destruction. Bryce had thrown himself over Idris to shield him, but he looked up now. Naked horror filled his eyes. “Paul! Oh god, no . . . Paul!” He lurched to his feet, then dropped to cover Idris again as Mzatal called the lightning and connected upward. The clouds took on a blue glow as multiple thin lightning streaks hissed and crackled incessantly over the entire area like electrified serpents. Rain whipped down, sizzling through the power to land with stinging force.

Bryce found an opening, stumbled up and managed to run-stagger to Paul. “No.
NO!
” he cried out in wrenching anguish as he dropped to his knees by the crumpled form, desperately searching for any sign of life. “Paul!” He dragged the molten remains of the tablet from Paul’s chest, then recoiled as a layer of ruined flesh came with it, leaving a gruesome wound of exposed ribs and sternum.

Seizing Mzatal’s head, I fought to touch him, to reach him, only to find a maelstrom of rage and grief. Desperate, I struck him hard with closed fists. “No!” I screamed over the unending thunder. “Stop! You’re hurting people!” I pried my hand beneath his fingers, twisted with moves learned from Gestamar. Mzatal’s grip loosened, and I stumbled free of his grasp, yet I didn’t think he was even aware I’d done so.

Singed hair lay wet and slick against Kadir’s skull as he limped toward me, and a vicious and twisted burn marked a forked path from face to thigh down his left side. He staggered as a random strike hit a few feet from him, but continued inexorably forward, teeth bared as he looked beyond me. I yanked my gaze around to see Ryan standing several feet behind Mzatal, a few inches within the blasted circle.

Light and sound and heat and rain pummeled me from all directions, but I ruthlessly shut it out, stood before Mzatal and focused solely on him. Glowing with raging power, he planted his feet and raised Khatur high. The bizarre lightning stopped and the thunder ceased, but I knew Mzatal wasn’t finished. Deep terror filled me as I sensed him draw power. The burst that so grievously injured Paul would be a mere spark compared to what he sought to do now.

“Ryan!” I shouted, desperate. “I can’t reach him. Help me reach him!” I swiveled to Kadir. “Both of you! Do something to help me!” Lord Creepshow wasn’t an ally by any stretch of the imagination, but right now we were
all
at risk of obliteration.

In answer, Kadir lowered his head and began to trace. Ryan gave a guttural cry, his features shifting weirdly as he called potency between his hands into a crude ball. I returned my full focus to Mzatal and called to him with everything I had.
Zharkat. Zharkat. You will slay me. Cease, my love. I beg you. You will slay me.

A flicker, a whisper of response, the barest brush of awareness of me. He still drew power, still raged, yet it was a needed chink in the otherwise impenetrable wall.

Rain lashed down, plastering the dress against my body and blinding me. I reached again, called to him, shut out all but Mzatal. Distantly, I felt Kadir and Szerain prepare, then bit back my scream as they struck—Szerain with a crude hammer blow of potency in Mzatal’s back, and Kadir with a superbly elegant burst that covered Mzatal’s skin in a network of azure neon like freakish varicose veins.

Please. You must stop. You will kill us all.

The potency burned over Mzatal. It got his attention, but it was my presence and touch that riveted him. He breathed heavily through bared and clenched teeth, held the strike.

“Zharkat,” I said, weeping. “Boss. Please stop.”

His eyes found mine. He was lost—in the grief and anger and
power
, and in the need to vent all of it. His body trembled with the effort of keeping it in check.

I threw my arms around him as if I could help him hold the strike back. My focus widened, and now I took in everything happening around us.

Bryce knelt by Paul, performing CPR with desperate efficiency, exposed bone beneath his hands.
“C’mon, kid, God damn it, come on!”
Ryan had collapsed to his back, features completely his. Kadir watched with cautious intensity as he prepared another strike. Idris lay curled on his side, eyes wide and staring, jaw slack.

Mzatal felt it
all
through me—the destruction, the pain, the fear, the death—and his control of the fury wavered.

“Mzatal. Send Khatur away,” I ordered, using every means of communication I had with him. “Send the blade away. NOW!”

His eyes locked on mine, as hard as silver-grey flint—unyielding, uncompromising, but still holding the catastrophic potency at bay.

Boss. Zharkat. Beloved
, I called to him.
Feel me. Remember yourself. Be right here. Right now. With me.

Breath hissing through his teeth, Mzatal shifted his grip on the blade. For a horrific second I thought he intended to drive it through me, but then he let out a harsh growling cry and slashed the blade down across his forearm to open a deep gash. Luminescent blood sizzled and vaporized on the blade, and I staggered, nausea rising, as I
felt
Khatur take the offering. In the next heartbeat, the blade disappeared from Mzatal’s hand, banished.

Mzatal shook with the intensity of the gathered potency, the cumulation of black anger I couldn’t fathom. He still maintained enough control to keep it leashed, but not for much longer. Even now it ripped at him. I felt the pressure build—a sealed volcano, poised to explode, and when it did Mzatal would stand alone in the middle of a blasted crater.

“Down. Down!” I urged him. “Ground it into the earth and to the lake.”

He let out a tortured cry, dropped to his knees, and flattened his palms on the ground. I went with him, kept my arms around him, called to him.

The lake
, I told him.
Send it to the lake.
The world trembled. A narrow fissure split the ground between us and the water, a crack of earthen lightning. An instant later the lake erupted into a boiling cauldron.