Chapter 37

“Water Orb!” My first instinct turned out to be pointless; the chilly night air surrounding us had already been dried out by the dome of fire. The golf-ball sized sphere didn’t even reach the flames before it evaporated.

“It is getting closer,” said Mariko, joining me towards the middle of the trap.

I bit my tongue; no sense berating her for stating the obvious. Not when seconds counted.

It turned out she was already ahead of me. She had crouched down, her hands glowing with magical energy. Her nameless affinity went to work, vaporizing the soft soil beneath our feet.

“Clever plan; we’ll get under the…”

I was cut off by an orange flash and a deafening pop. The already heated air was scalding for an instant before it cooled again.

Well, relatively cooled. When I cracked my eyes open, the rings were still closing in on us. Mariko lay stunned, and I wasn’t feeling any better. What in the Hell was that?

A question for later. If I couldn’t douse the flames, then perhaps I could break the energy envelope that held them in place? I drew my borrowed longsword again, willing magic into the blade. I wished I still had my rune-reinforced beret, since I suspected what would happen when I popped the membranes. I removed my green capelet and tied it in place over my head. That will have to be enough.

“Hah!” The sword’s tip sang through the air. I couldn’t aim with my eyes covered, but I didn’t have to. The trap was cooperatively coming right towards us.

The runes in the green capelet lit up, and my exposed hands were scorched by the bursts of flame. I only stopped when the chill returned to the air around me, and I tossed aside the capelet.

Mariko had escaped unscathed. I hadn’t been so lucky, though my enchanted uniform had done its job. The back of my right hand was raw, and even the magically-enhanced sword was too hot to touch comfortably.

“Mariko!”

“I-I am fine,” she managed, levering herself up. “What happened?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Flamiwhorl… I mean, Flaming Ring doesn’t explode like that!”

“It is like that day with the bike,” she said.

A horrific crunch from the pen cut off our discussion, and I was reminded of our uninvited guest. The creature had made short work of the sheep, and I really wished I hadn’t seen it eat. A dark, rasp-like tongue was already scraping the last bits of flesh from the sheep’s bones, leaving a skeleton just like Brandur’s ram.

My wounded hand reluctant twisted into position. “Magic Bolt!” Perhaps if it doesn’t see me coming, it won’t be able to stop the spell?

No such luck. It pivoted to place its wings in the path of the spell. Instead of dissipating, the flashing blue orb glanced off, punching a basketball sized hole in the barn’s door. The sheep within began bleating in panic.

The creature paid me a stinging insult: it turned away and made its way over to the door. A slash of its taloned hand ripped through the deadbolt, and it kicked the door down.

“Hey, you! We aren’t done with you yet!”

“Kasasagi?”

Mariko was right to sound confused. What in Our Father Below’s name was I doing rushing in to defend a bunch of stupid sheep? I’d had more than my share of mutton during the last week, after all.

There was a smidge of method to my madness. If it was burning through so much magic to fly about, much less fight us, that explained its enormous appetite. We wanted the beast hungry. For all we knew, this wasn’t its full fighting potential.

Of course, I might have been offering it some nice steak à la Marlowe on a platter, but adrenaline tends to quiet such thoughts.

It took the bait, though, and spun about to face the new challenge. I was ready for it, though. “Fireball!”

I threw some extra oomph into the spell; I was going to show this pissant who was the real master of that spell. It seemed unbothered by the explosion, but the impact staggered it. Good, it can be hurt.

It responded by beating its wings twice; once to break the pull of gravity, and again to tackle me to the ground. The blow knocked the wind from my lungs; I struggled to back off, but it held me in place. Something hot spattered against my cheek, and I could just make out the trace of drool going back to its jagged maw.

“Get off him! Spectral Web!”

Mariko was on the other side of the fence, which was the best place for her. A mass of blue threads covered the creature’s face. It released me to claw at the covering, but it turned out its long talons were ill-suited to such delicate work.

I took advantage of Mariko’s distraction to get some distance, backing up to the edge of the pen. I spared her a grateful smile; I didn’t have the breath to waste on words.

I raised my hands to fire off another Celestial Arrow, but the creature wasn’t stupid. Even as it struggled against the quickly dissolving Spectral Web, it had raised its wings between us as a shield. Crouched down as it was, the leathery skin covered most of its body.

However, it couldn’t cover everywhere at once. “Fireball!” I put extra energy into the spell again, aiming for a gap near its ankles. It exploded, sending the beast stumbling back. I couldn’t make out any injuries in its pitch-black skin, but it seemed shaken.

I decided to use Bryndísar’s gift. The cane had stayed on my sword-belt, and I quickly leveled it at my target with my unburnt left hand. A mental command sent a bolt of jagged red energy right at the staggered creature. I could have made my own Bloody Lance, but I wanted to have as much distance between the ideas of ‘Soren’ and ‘demon’ as I could manage.

Besides, it left my mouth free for more important tasks… like cursing my luck. “Blast those wings!” When it wasn’t flying, it only took a twitch to raise its built-in shields. That attack seemed more telling, as the black wings glowed and smoked afterwards.

Not much of a comfort when it bounded ahead again, smacking the cane from my grasp.

“Lovely Fireworks!” Mariko came to my aid again. It wasn’t as helpful as another Magic Bolt right then, but the dazzling lights stopped its charge.

I sprang over the fence to bolted away to get some distance. It was clear to me that we were chipping away at its defenses, and I was doing better at range than up close.

It seemed to have reached the same conclusion, clearing the fence with a single stroke of its wings. It didn’t seem to want to fly anymore, which I took as a sign it was nearing the edges of its magical reserves. It proved damned fast on its cloven hooves, and I realized I would have a chance for one spell before it caught me.

Well, if it was going to play for keeps, I would, too. I set aside any thoughts of secrecy. Let’s see how you like demonic acid! “Ruhspont!”

The damp, early morning air coalesced into a single point, forming a green sphere the size of a baseball. A wave of my hand sent it spattering in a wide arc at the charging demon.

Its wings proved no defense against the hissing spray. Sizzling holes opened in the leathery membrane, revealing an agonized face. It skidded to a halt, its enormous wings flapping desperately to try and remove the remnants of my Rough Spout. The creature cursed in a Low Demonic. A bit slurred, given its pronounced muzzle and enormous teeth, but the accent was unmistakable.

That’s no mindless beast, then. I hesitated; not out of any mercy, but I spent a moment in calculation. Was this being the agent of whoever had sent the Beckers after us? If it wasn’t, it seemed like too much of a coincidence. I had an opening, but what if I was slaying the only being who could tell me what I was up against?

“You speak; what are you?” I demanded in a slightly rusty High Demonic. I cast a Svalinn’s Wrath, forming a black energy sword in my left hand. I wasn’t as strong with that one, but my burned right hand was starting to pain me. Hopefully it doesn’t notice the blade is in my off hand.

“Ya understand me?” The acid had run its course, and it lowered its wings to get a better look at me.

“Obviously,” I spat. There was something about using the mother tongue that brought out my snippy side. “Again, what are you, and who sent you? Don’t be all day about it.”

“A human wizard that speaks Demonic? How?”

I leveled the blade at it. “I’m asking the questions here. Unless you’d like to taste my blade? Or perhaps you’d care for another acid bath?”

Its milky white eyes narrowed as it studied me, before widening in shock. “Malthus?”

There was my name again. “If you don’t want to talk, then…” I’d been inching closer, and I had the winged creature in my sword’s range. I tensed up, ready to strike.

“Malthus!” I was forced on my back heels as its clawed hands swiped at me. Svalinn’s Wrath origin as a defensive spell saved me, as the sturdy energy sword survived three barely-parried slashes. “Our Father Below smiles on me today! I never thought I’d see ya again!”

“You…” I grunted, as I brought my wounded hand to steady my grip on the sword’s hilt. “You have me at a disadvantage.”

“I almost didn’t recognize ya without yer horn nubs, manlet!” Its attacks became wilder, which is what saved me from his onslaught. “I’ve changed too, ya saw to that!”

He stopped his onslaught, his white orbs narrowing again. “Ya’ve got no idea.” I could see the steam rising from his fanged mouth, just as with mine. However, I was panting from exertion, but he was quivering with fury. “Ya destroyed me, and ya have no Enemy-damned clue who I am!”

I gulped; suddenly the energy sword seemed insufficient, but I didn’t dare let it go. I’d never get off another spell at this distance. “Surely it can’t be as bad as all that. I’m sure I’d remember—”

“Yer the face I see when I’m shivering in a mud hole! When I spent my days hiding from damn humans, living like a wild animal!” He sprang ahead, his claws tracing deadly arcs through the air. I could keep up with my sword, but I didn’t have the same rage to fuel my attacks as him. “How could ya forget me?”

“I’m bad with faces,” I grunted. I thought I saw an opening in his uncontrolled attacks.

I did not, and he laid me flat with a single kick from his hooves. I inhaled, and regretted it, feeling the familiar burn of a broken rib.

He loomed over me, planting his foot on my cracked chest. “Tell ya what, I won’t strip the meat from that woman’s bones if ya can tell me who I am.”

I didn’t bother saying Mariko wasn’t part of it, like I might have with a human. Whatever he was, he had been a devil once, that was clear, and asking for mercy would only ensure he would go after her. “Can I have a hint?” My voice was barely a wheeze.

“Grand General Girdan’s painting,” he spat. “Tell me ya can recall that much.”

Painting, painting… My mind raced, trying to think of what this deformed thing could be referring to. I didn’t think the truth would set me free, but I was trying to buy seconds. If I could get my hands free, I had a golden opportunity to tag it with another spell.

Then it struck me.

“Mulciber?” I croaked out.