Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (32 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

Angela’s mouth pulled into a feral smile, displaying glistening white fangs.

“Icarus made her especially for you,” Vile said. “What do you think?”

Ravyn stared at the demon, willing any semblance of the old Angela to spring to life. The demon’s face was a mask of stone. No compassion or human emotion surfaced. No hint of recognition dawned in her reptilian eyes.

“I think she’s an abomination,” she said as Angela’s smile twisted into a snarl. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

The demon hissed, the sound piercing Ravyn’s heart. This wasn’t Angela. This wasn’t her friend. Vile’s laughter echoed off the cavern walls and stirred the gathered demons’ agitation. The crowd surrounded them to make a fighting circle.

“You will fight,” Vile shouted above the din.

A large gong sounded from somewhere near the dais, and Ravyn had no time to react. Angela lunged and Ravyn dove to the right, scarcely missing the deadly talons trained toward her neck. She rolled and came to her feet. Vile’s booming laugh mocked her as Ravyn struggled to find her focus amid the whooping cries and shrieks of the demon horde.

She took a deep breath and exhaled all traces of fragmented thought and emotion. This was a demon. Not her friend. Ravyn knew Vile hoped the image of Angela would weaken her resolve.
She is not Angela. She is not Angela.
A calming silence blanketed Ravyn, giving her mind the blessed peace she needed to focus. She was fighting for her life and for everything she and the Bringers believed in.

Angela lunged, and again Ravyn dove out of the way and moved to her feet. She pivoted to face the demon. She knew the old Angela had no special powers, but the creature fought with single-minded determination. The demon spun and caught Ravyn in the chest with her foot, propelling her backward and into the crowd of Bane.

Her skin crawled as the demons’ groping hands hoisted her up and tossed her back into the circle. She landed on her feet, stumbled, and dropped into a roll, landing next to Angela. Ravyn crouched and swept the demon’s legs out from under her.

Angela lost her balance and tucked into a smooth tumble, spinning gracefully to her feet. She grabbed a long staff from an armor-clad demon and advanced on Ravyn, swinging the barb-tipped weapon in a wide arc.

Ravyn knew Vile wanted her to use her powers, but she wouldn’t. Even if it meant dying here in the Shadow World among the Bane, she wouldn’t bend to his demands. The barbs missed her head by inches as she ducked and leapt toward the weapon. Ravyn yanked, trying to pry the staff free. The demon’s arms tangled as Ravyn twisted the stick. Driven by survival, she let the momentum carry her, hauled the demon over her body, and slammed her to the ground.

Angela released the staff and grabbed Ravyn’s ankle, jerking her foot out from under her. She crashed to the dirt floor, her breath knocked from her lungs. As Ravyn went down, her head struck a stone. Pain speared her skull and she lay dazed, unable to move.

Vile’s laughter boomed.

Ravyn’s body refused to obey her mental command to get up and fight.

Pain. Fire. Anger. All three burned through Ravyn, goading her to attack.

Before Ravyn could recover, Angela closed her taloned fingers around Ravyn’s throat. Life slowly squeezed from her body as the demon’s grip tightened. Angela’s knees and legs pinned Ravyn’s shoulders and arms to the ground, making it impossible for her to strike back. Fire pulsed under her skin, demanding its freedom, but she couldn’t move. She gasped as the stranglehold compressed.

A tug pulled at her hand. She struggled to identify the sensation as blackness seeped around her vision. This was something she should know. Something she needed. Her fingers inched toward her boot and she realized what she was feeling. She unfolded her knee and straightened her leg, shaking her foot in the air directly over her hand. The dagger slid free from her boot and dropped. A wave of relief washed through her when the knife’s handle landed in the center of her palm.

Her lungs burned. With a surge of panic, she bent her wrist and sliced Angela’s ankle. The demon screeched and moved her leg, releasing Ravyn’s arm.
Kill or be killed
. She silenced her conscience as she swung the blade upward and plunged the dagger deep into Angela’s heart.

The demon stiffened, her hold loosening on Ravyn’s neck. Air rushed into her lungs and she gasped. The blood pounding through her head calmed as her vision cleared. Angela stared down at Ravyn, her yellow eyes swirling, giving way to shades of blue. A low sigh hissed from her body as she fell sideways, clutching the dagger’s hilt, her breaths coming in short, measured gasps.

A thick silence fell over the hall.

Ravyn rolled to her knees and crouched over Angela. Tears slid down her cheeks as the eyes of her old friend stared back at her from the demon’s body. Peace brightened her face.

“Ra-a-vyn,” she whispered. Angela’s face went slack as death crept through her body. She convulsed once and her muscles tightened, then settled against the packed earth. A low sigh rattled from her lungs as her body relaxed and her eyes stared, unseeing, to the sky.

Ravyn moved to close Angela’s eyes but recoiled as a glistening white essence escaped from Angela’s mouth. The glimmering mist gathered and hesitated. With caution, Ravyn skimmed her finger along the gossamer tendrils, unsure of what she was seeing. The essence coiled around her hand. Confusion enveloped her, followed by happiness as the mist’s awareness shifted. The threads drifted up her arm, filling her with love and joy.

“You’re free,” Ravyn said. Tears of pain turned to tears of joy. “Go.”

The vapor hovered.

“Go!” Her shout echoed through the chamber as she urged Angela’s spirit on before another Bane captured and imprisoned it.

In a sudden explosion, Angela’s soul burst free from its demon shell and spiraled upward. Ravyn gripped the dagger and pulled it free. The body splintered and crumbled to ash. The breeze from Angela’s ascending soul scattered the gray flakes across the stone floor, erasing all reminders of her former friend.

Ravyn gazed at the dagger, its weight binding itself to her hand. Understanding flooded her—the drawing in the journal, the passage that flowed like water through her mind, and the release of Angela’s soul.

Ravyn now understood what she held. An immortal weapon.

The crescendo of Vile’s rage shocked her back to the present.

“Impossible.” He slammed his fist against the arm of his throne. Bones shattered and sprayed the demons cowering nearby. Vile shot from the seat and stalked to the edge of the dais, but stopped as if unwilling to draw any closer to her. “What did you do?”

She said nothing. The pull from the dagger increased and she cradled the knife against her heart, suddenly comforted and no longer afraid. The weapon pulsed against her chest, warming the spot directly over her heart. She closed her eyes, accepting her fate as the sequence of events since she left the abbey crystallized. She stilled herself and opened her eyes to stare at the Demon King.

“Answer me,” Vile shouted.

Ravyn took her time choosing her words. “She’s free. Angela is no longer your prisoner.”

His wings flared as he bared his fangs and looked to the ceiling. A thunderous roar erupted from him, shaking the cave and sending tremors through Ravyn. She cringed inwardly, but didn’t move when Vile leveled his blazing glare at her.

“You,” he said, pointing a black, curved talon at her, “will not follow your friend through the Veil. You will spend eternity locked inside me.”

“No.” The word rushed from her as if he’d punched her in the stomach. Bile rose in her throat. Not die? Not pass through the Veil? She shook her head and clutched the knife to her chest. Never would she let herself be locked to Vile for an eternity of torture.

“You will never have my power.” She flipped the knife around and pointed the blade at her chest. The blade dug into her flesh. “You will never have me.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Rhys soared close behind Icarus as the demon spiraled toward the earth. Icarus folded his wings when they approached a large hole in the mountain. On first glance, Rhys didn’t see the entrance on the plateau, but as the gap yawned before him he tucked his wings and followed Icarus into the bowels of the Shadow World.

They descended through the dank blackness. In dragon form, his vision distinguished living creatures from their life forces. Icarus’s aura glowed hot in the center of his body, fading to gray as it fanned out toward the edges. Most demons pulsed black or murky gray with no variation in color, but the center of Icarus’s body nearly blinded Rhys’s dragon vision.

The demon flared his wings, slowing his dive. Rhys followed suit. The tips of his own wings scraped the sides of the walls, igniting sparks as his scales dragged against the stone. Icarus landed on a large ledge and pointed to another on the opposite side. Far below, Rhys made out the glow of torches spilling from a doorway.

“The ledges become progressively smaller as we descend,” Icarus said in a low voice. “You are too large in dragon form. I will have to carry you down from here.”

Rhys sneered, a low grumble erupting from deep within his throat. Imps clinging to the wall cheeped and scurried away from him.

“If you do not change, you will land in front of the chamber, alerting everybody to our presence.” Icarus smirked. “Trust me, Bringer, I don’t like touching you any more than you like touching me.”

With a mere thought, Rhys transformed to his human body, his clothes reforming over his flesh as the scales melted. The beast roared in protest, but 300 years of experience gave him ultimate control. Leaping across the expanse, Icarus spread his wings and landed softly behind him.

“No talons,” Rhys said.

Icarus locked his massive arms around Rhys’s chest. “But of course,” he said, and stepped off the rocky ledge.

Powerful wings expanded, catching the rising currents that swirled up the tube. They descended with much more grace than Rhys thought possible and landed on a ledge about eight feet above the chamber’s doorway. Icarus released him and stepped away. He turned to face the demon, keeping his back to the rock wall.

“Thank you,” Rhys said. The words sounded wrong.

“I’d say that it was my pleasure,” Icarus said, “but it wasn’t.”

Rhys ignored the insult. “What now?”

“Do what you do best. Save the damsel. But I suggest you don’t dally, Bringer. Your lady is in trouble.” Icarus took a step back and jumped from the ledge before landing gracefully on the ground below. “And I will give you one more gift tonight. Vile doesn’t know you’re a full-blood. Use that to your advantage.”

Before Rhys could say anything, the demon disappeared down a dark corridor, leaving him to fight this battle alone. He vaulted from the ledge and landed in the shadows, scanned the corridor, but sensed nothing more than the imps.

The entire Bane population must be inside the chamber. An abrading sting chewed at his body. He reinforced his shields, struggling to block out the sensation. Ravyn was close. And she was alive. His body thrummed from her vibrations. He sent up a prayer of thanks.

Rhys crept to the edge of the doorway and peered into the hall. Demons filled the chamber, brown imps hanging from the walls and ceiling like fat, giant bats. And in the middle of the chaos stood Ravyn.

“You will never have me!” she screamed.

He sagged in relief. There was still a chance of getting her out of the Shadow World alive. He inched closer, straining to hear what she was saying.

She appeared strong and unafraid. Her words drifted to him on the cold currents of air. “In death there is life, in sacrifice return.”

Warmth spread through him.

“All barriers destroyed and evil be spurned.”

Pain sizzled across the place where he’d been stabbed as a boy by Vile. Rhys pressed his hand to his chest, leaning against the stone doorway. He grabbed at the rock for balance as his world started to spin.

“No hindrance remain, from our blood be renewed.”

As her words wrapped around him, his body seized and his knees buckled. Unable to stand, he slid down the stone wall.

Pain. Fire. Rebirth.

Heat raced up his spine, followed by ice. He fell on all fours and gritted his teeth against the searing blanket spreading across his back. Rhys lifted his head, trying to locate Ravyn, but his vision blurred. He pulled his body across the ground, his need to protect her driving him forward. He wouldn’t fail her, not this time. Balanced on his hands and knees, his vision finally cleared to see Ravyn standing in the middle of the chamber. What was she doing?

She cradled his dagger against her chest, the tip poised over her heart. Someone screamed. A man? A demon? Rhys tried to call to her but his throat constricted, choking off his cry. Fire engulfed him.

“That which was taken, settle in those who Bring true.”

Ravyn plunged the blade into her heart.

A howl ripped from Rhys’s throat, finally finding voice within his tempest of pain. Her body crumpled to the ground. He reached for her but couldn’t move.

The tightening eased and his shaking stopped, tears running unfettered down his cheeks. He dug his fingers into the rock and forced himself to move toward Ravyn’s lifeless body.

“No.” The word repeated over and over in his mind. This wasn’t possible. She wasn’t dead. Rhys stepped into the silent hall. As the fire drained away, rage took its place, filling and consuming him. He snarled at the gawking demons, allowing the dragon to have its way. The Bane stumbled away from him, jostling and bumping each other.

Only yards away now, she lay with her hand gently curved around the delicate handle of his blade. Grief sliced through him. His dagger. The gift he’d given her, and the gift that had taken her from him.

A large demon launched from the dais and landed inches from Ravyn, crouching over her. His wings folded around her body and he roared. “She’s mine.”

Vile.
Energy burned through Rhys. With barely a thought or intent, he shifted and changed to his dragon form. He and the beast were one, no longer at odds, no longer one without the other. His powers coalesced and filled every cell. Strength surged through his mind, body, and spirit.

Demons screamed, climbing over each other in an effort to flee the dragon’s path. He lifted his head and roared. The walls trembled and the ceiling quaked. Small stones and dirt cascaded over the frantic crowd. Vile moved as if to scoop up Ravyn, and Rhys spun. The tip of his spiked tail hammered the demon’s body, sending him crashing into the dense rock wall.

Vile plummeted to the floor, his wings crumpling under his massive frame as he rolled and came to his feet. Rhys swung his head toward the demon and released a jet of fire. Vile catapulted himself into the air, narrowly avoiding the flames. He landed on a ledge twenty feet above the throne room. The demon’s stare raked along Rhys’s scales as he glared down at him.

“How?” the demon yelled.

Rhys spewed another stream of fire at the ledge, forcing Vile higher. The Demon King’s injured wings struggled to lift his mass. He clawed at the rock, digging his talons into the wall, and hoisted himself onto the next ledge. The outcropping was too high for Rhys to blast. The dragon roared and loosed a jet of fire anyway. The beast wanted its prey.

“Attack the dragon,” Vile yelled from his perch.

Rhys coiled his body around Ravyn and snapped at the approaching horde. They would not touch or defile her. Hadn’t these abominations done enough? With a blast of fire, he sprayed the shrieking mob.

Cries of agony swelled. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air and clogged his nostrils. The demons turned and scattered toward every doorway.

“Stop, you gutless cowards,” Vile yelled. “Get back here and fight.”

Rhys lifted his head and jettisoned another stream of flames. Vile jumped back and disappeared from Rhys’s view. Ignoring the chaos and tortured wails, he shifted back to human form and knelt over Ravyn. His hand shook as he reached for the knife protruding from her. Grief consumed him and he stopped, unwilling—
unable
—to pull the dagger from her body. No amount of revenge would bring her back.

With Ravyn’s warm body cradled in his arms, he strode from the throne room and into the dark corridor.

Icarus stood at the entrance of a black tunnel. He stared at Rhys, his demon gaze fluctuating from glowing yellow to swirling silver. He didn’t speak.

Rhys waited. Would he have to fight Icarus? One last trial before he could take Ravyn home?

Icarus flared his wings and Rhys tensed. “Calm yourself, Bringer.”

The demon moved to stand behind him, slipped his arms around Rhys’s chest, and pushed off from the ground. Icarus’s wings struggled to lift the extra weight. They slowly climbed, the huge fans elevating them until they reached the large outcropping Rhys had landed on as a dragon.

The demon dropped him and Ravyn onto the ledge but didn’t settle. “It’s up to you now, Bringer.”

“Thank you.” The words didn’t seem enough and yet didn’t seem deserved.

“Perhaps you’ll return the favor one day, Rhys Blackwell.”

Shivers crept across Rhys’s skin as the demon spoke his name. The only favor he planned on returning was his death. He stared, saying nothing.

A wicked smile spread across Icarus’s face a second before he folded his wings and dove back into the Shadow World.