Rage of a Demon King (44 page)

“I would pass her servant notes,” said Jason. “She would write back to me. She promised that someday, when I was rich, she’d tell her father about me.”

Roo was stunned. Sylvia had played himself,
Duncan, and now Jason for fools. After a moment, Jason said, “Mr. Avery. Please, sir, forgive me.”

Looking about the woods, with Luis lying unconscious or perhaps dead across the clearing, with the women and children hiding up in a cave, Roo could only say, “It doesn’t matter, Jason. None of it matters.”

Softly Jason said, “She kissed me once, Mr. Avery. When no one was looking, as she got into her carriage, she leaned over and kissed my cheek.” Then his eyes rolled up into his head and he died.

Roo sat motionless, not knowing whether to cry or laugh. The boy had died thinking the murdering bitch was his perfect angel. Roo had not mentioned to anyone in the camp besides Luis that Sylvia was dead. Roo silently saluted her, for she had known what to do to get what she wanted from the men she had used. For Duncan, it had been the promise of power and money; for Jason, some child’s story of the princess and commoner finding true love—a kiss on the cheek and love notes; and for Roo? Roo laughed a bitter laugh as he let Jason’s head fall to the damp ground. He rose, thinking, For Roo she had promised a perfect love that doesn’t exist.

Before meeting Sylvia, Roo never had any idea that love was anything other than a myth believed by people less intelligent than he, or a useful lie to get a town girl to spread her legs, but never had he felt the lie of love to be so monstrous as he did at this minute. Even from the grave Sylvia haunted his thoughts. He reached Luis’s side thinking it unfathomable how three men could look at the same woman and see three different women, or how each could believe her lies so readily. And he couldn’t
understand how he could still feel such longing for her while detesting her so deeply.

Luis’s breathing was shallow, and his complexion was waxy. He groaned when Roo tried to move him, and tried to help as Roo picked him up, slipping his uninjured shoulder under Luis’s good arm. Half staggering, half dragging his friend, Roo tried to get him to the cave.

When he was a short distance from it, Helen Jacoby looked out, and when she saw Roo struggling to bring Luis to the mouth of the cave, she hurried down and helped the exhausted Roo.

They got Luis inside, and Roo discovered that the cave was large, though shallow. It was illuminated enough from outside that he could see everything clearly. Karli gasped as they entered the cave, and tears welled up in her eyes as she asked, “Jason?”

Roo shook his head.

Helen began tending to Luis while Karli tried to keep her own distress from further upsetting the children. “Who were they?” Karli asked.

“Deserters, from the Queen’s army.”

“Will there be more?” asked Helen.

“Undoubtedly,” answered Roo, resting on the cave floor a minute. “I don’t know if they’re going to be heading this way, but it means we have to be wary of any riders or men on foot we spy until we know for a fact they’re Kingdom soldiers.”

He sighed and stood up. “I need to find those horses and see if they have anything useful on them.” He also needed to bury Jason and the four dead men, but he thought it best not to speak of it.

Staggering down the hill, Roo saw that the wounded horse was only a few yards away, but the
other three had wandered up the hillside and were trying to eat the small patches of grass that grew around a small clearing. Roo wasn’t the expert that Erik was when it came to horses, but one look at the deep wound in the horse’s flank told him he wouldn’t recover without a healer’s aide; there was bone exposed and the horse limped as if hobbled.

He walked as calmly as he could to where the three horses grazed, and made clicking sounds and talked softly. Two of the horses started to move away, but one remained close enough for him to get his hands on its bridle. Roo checked the bedroll and found a few items of worth inside, a silver candlestick and some coins.

Roo tied the first horse’s reins to a branch on a deadfall and got the second. It also had a few items of worth on it, but nothing else of use.

The third horse was more interested in playing keep-away than in eating, so after Roo had chased it for about fifty yards, he started throwing rocks at it, attempting to drive it away so that should anyone else come across the wandering mount, it wouldn’t lead them back to Roo’s location.

Roo found one of Luis’s daggers still stuck in one of the dead men, and he pulled it out. He quickly put down the lame horse, whose screams caused the two remaining horses to shy. But he had tied them well enough that they remained where he had left them. Then he turned to the grisly task of searching the corpses.

Like all former soldiers, he found the idea of rifling the dead repugnant, yet he knew that anything of real worth would be on these men. He discovered three pouches of gold and one of gems. Roo put the
valuables on one of the two remaining horses and stockpiled the weapons. He had five daggers, a long knife, and six swords.

He carried these to the cave and deposited them inside. He asked Helen, “How’s Luis?”

“Not good,” she said softly. She looked at Roo and shook her head slightly.

Roo had seen enough wounds to know that Luis might not live through the night. He turned and went down the hill. He decided he’d move the horses after he disposed of the dead.

He had no shovel, so digging a grave was out of the question, unless he wanted to try to do it with one of the swords. He found a small fissure in the middle of the dry creek and rolled the dead into it. He hated the idea of burying Jason with the four deserters, but the safety of his family was more important than anything else.

He used the poorest of the six swords to dislodge dirt and cover the dead, then started carrying rocks to cover them. After an hour of this heavy labor, he was nearly exhausted and was on his knees piling up the rocks as best he could. He attempted to keep them below the lip of the fissure, so that when he sprinkled branches and leaves over it, anyone coming by might not notice the grave.

He was placing the last rock on the grave when something pushed him from behind.

Roo turned and was scrambling for the sword when he saw a curious horse looking him in the eye. The animal he had chased off had grown bored and returned, and had come down to see what he was doing. Finding the work uninteresting, the horse demanded Roo’s attention.

Roo reached out quickly and grabbed its reins. The horse shied and pulled back, yanking Roo to his feet. He yanked once, cried, “Whoa!” and let pressure off so the horse didn’t fly into a panic.

The animal responded and held its position. Roo led it to the others and tied it to the tree. He searched the blanket roll behind the horse’s saddle and found some more gold and a gem.

Roo looked around and tried to spot a better location to hide the horses, but couldn’t see one. If they were going to use them, he’d have to risk their being discovered.

Fatigue gripped him as he trudged up the hill. He thought it would be ironic in the extreme if he had gone to all the trouble of burying the five bodies only to have the three horses standing there give him away.

He looked at the dead horse and realized he’d have to attempt to cover it up before leaving, but decided he’d wait until the next day. Hiding the dead animal was pointless until he was ready to lead the living ones away.

He reached the cave mouth and found that Karli had distributed some more bread and pieces of cheese to the children. He took a hunk of each as it was handed to him and sat down. He couldn’t remember ever having been this tired.

Helen said, “His breathing is better, I think.”

Roo glanced over and couldn’t see any difference. “I think you’re right,” he lied.

Roo chewed on the bread, finding it was drying out as the days wore on. Still, it was food, as was the hard cheese, and he welcomed the taste.

“We have a skin of wine,” said Karli, and she handed it across to Roo.

He thanked her and took a mouthful. The wine tasted particularly piquant in combination with the yellow cheese, but Roo was glad for it.

Helen said, “What do we do?”

“There are three horses. If we can get Luis on one, and two of the children on each of the others, we can lead them out tomorrow.”

Helen looked at Luis and her expression was dubious, but she said nothing. Karli tried a brave smile and failed.

Roo chewed and swallowed, and let his body rest as best it could against the rocks. After finishing his food, he stumbled out of the cave and down the hill, and returned with the four blanket rolls used by the deserters. He didn’t care how filthy they were, these woods could get chilly at night and they couldn’t risk a fire.

After the blankets had been spread and everyone bedded down for the night, he sat staring into the night. Time passed and for all his fatigue he couldn’t risk sleeping.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Helen Jacoby appeared at his side, sitting down next to him. Softly, so as not to wake the others, she said, “I think he’s going to be all right.”

Roo whispered, “You’ve not seen a wounded man after he’s been strapped to a horse for a day or two. We may kill him if we move him.”

“Can’t we stay another day?”

Roo said, “No. And Luis would be the first to tell me to try to get you to safety. Each day brings more soldiers, from both sides, as well as more deserters into this area.”

Helen slipped her arm through his, putting her head on his shoulder as if it were the most natural
act. She hugged his arm, and he was acutely aware of her full breast pressed against him and the scent of her hair. At last she said, “Thank you, Roo.”

Roo said, “For what?”

“For being a kind and caring man. You’ve done everything for my babies a father would. You’ve protected us when other men would have left us in ruin and without resources.”

They were quiet a long time, and then Roo felt warmth on his shoulder as her tears soaked into the fabric of his shirt. He patted her hand and could think of nothing to say.

After a silent time, she reached up and turned his head toward hers. She kissed him lightly on the lips, then softly she said, “You’re a good man, Roo. The children love you.” After a pause, she said, “And I love you.”

Roo was silent; then he said, “You’re the best woman I know, Helen. I admire you.” He dropped his head, as if unable to look into her eyes, though how much she could see in this darkness was problematic. “And I’d be a liar if I said I haven’t thought about you, as a man thinks of women, but to tell you the truth, I find that I can’t bring myself to believe in love.”

She said nothing for a long time, then rose silently and returned to the children. Roo sat alone through the rest of the night.

Miranda paced.

Macros said, “Will you stop that, please?”

She sat. For days they had been studying the site of the rift between Midkemia and Shila, and had discovered that it had unusual properties.

Macros had spent a great deal of time investigating the structure of the magic involved and had arrived at the conclusion that the rift had been sealed from this side. He had voiced his suspicions to Miranda, who had said she had no idea what he was talking about.

Miranda said, “How long are you going to stare at that thing?”

“Until I know what it is I’m dealing with.”

She sighed. “What else do you need to know?”

“Well, there is a great deal I would like to know. I would like to know how the Pantathians have succeeded in creating a rift that Pug couldn’t detect. I’d like to know how
they managed to create one that’s different in several significant properties from any I’ve ever seen. This is very much like those rifts created by the accidental combination of ton much magic, yet it also behaves in some very stable ways, much like the artificial rifts the Tsurani created. But what has me most concerned is that it has qualities of magic I’ve never thought of, let alone encountered. This one is almost ‘organic,’ if I had to find a word to use, something almost alive.”

“Alive?”

“Most rifts are like tunnels or doorways. This one is like a . . . wound.”

“You’re not serious?”

“Observe,” he said, and he waved his hand. Mystic energies came into being, a shimmering gate of blue-white light, woven closed with strands of what appeared to be blue-green energy, a threading of lines so tight nothing could squeeze through.

“The whiter light is the energy pulse of the rift. Notice how it seems to move slightly, like a thing breathing.”

“Energy pulse?”

“Each occurrence of magic leaves a signature, a pattern of forces that can tell you a great deal about what has taken place. Rifts are both unique and common. They are unique in that each acts in a particular way, in where it comes from and where it goes to, but common in that they share many properties. This one is more unique than common. In fact, it’s completely unique.” He rubbed his chin. “I would love to have the opportunity to study the rift to the demon realm. It might give me a clue to who built this one.” He sat back with a sigh. “I’m certain it wasn’t the Pantathians. Someone else gave them the tools to do this.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” He pointed at the rift. “This one was opened from the other side. If you get a chance to study enough of these fissures in space and time, you’ll be able to tell the difference between the sending side and the receiving side, or if it’s a two-way gate—this is a two-way gate.” He shook his head in obvious wonder. “Now, this other energy,” he said, pointing to the weaving, “this is even stranger.”

“What is it?”

“A barrier, obviously, but one that puzzles me.” He motioned for her to come closer. “What do you see here?” he asked, pointing to several of the strands.

“Dark green strands.”

“Hmmm. To me they’re more of a lime color. Anyway, look closer.”

She leaned forward and studied the strands. “There’s something irregular about this.”

“Yes!” he said with delight. “I think they have been sundered and reconnected.”

“By whom?”

Macros sat. “If what Hanam has told us is entirely accurate, he was the uninvited guest when the third demon was sent through. I suspect the first two encountered Pantathians. The first one fought and killed many, while the second, this Jakan, slipped away to safety. The first demon may have been the one you witnessed when you came here with Calis: the huge killer, driven mad or mindless by the Pantathians’ magic.”

“So Jakan slipped away, started sneaking around the halls, killing as he went and building up his strength,” Miranda said.

“Yes. Eventually the Pantathians rallied, and sealed this rift again.”

“That must have been when we found their deepest enclave and killed those high priests.”

Macros nodded. “I wondered what happened to the first demon.”

Miranda looked around. “Dead? I hope.”

Macros laughed. “If he’s still around, I think the two of us can deal with him. He won’t have had much to eat, and from what you told me, he didn’t appear to have much of a mind left.”

Miranda said, “It’s hard to appraise the intellect of a demon when it’s embroiled in a battle with a dozen Pathathian serpent priests.”

“True,” he agreed. “There are three different ways we could approach this. We could wait to see if something else tries to break through from the other side. Or we could attempt to unwrap these barrier forces, letting whatever is on the other side come through unaided. Or we could destroy the barrier and go through to the other side.”

“I like the fourth choice.”

“Which is?”

“We do our best to reinforce the barrier.”

Macros shook his head. “No, that won’t do.”

“Why not?”

Macros looked at his daughter. “I take it you haven’t studied rifts much?”

“Not at all. I know next to nothing about them.”

Macros shrugged. “Well, there’s a large volume of my work on the subject in Pug’s library. But given we can’t risk the time to return there and wait while you study, let me sum up: no matter what barriers we add to those already in existence, as long as the rift
exists it can be opened. We not only have to destroy it, we have to ensure that the demons don’t create another.”

“I was under the impression the demons followed the Pantathian rift,” Miranda said. “Or is there something else here you’re not telling me?”

“Not really. Just that it’s foolish to make assumptions. We both know we have things locked away up here.” He tapped his head with his forefinger. “We both feel comfortable that the knowledge is locked away for a good reason, but we are foolish not to draw a few likely conclusions from the fact of that hidden knowledge.”

“Such as?”

“Such as there may be yet another player who had a hand in the creation of these rifts. From what we know, the demons seized the advantage when the mad priests of Ahsart opened the seal between their realm and Shila, but no one has asked who built that portal in the first place. Why were the priests of Ahsart driven to open the rift to the demon realm? What compulsion or obsession involved them in that particular idiocy?

“We also know that the Pantathians came here easily with the Saaur, yet the demons must struggle to come here, and given the conflict between them, they are not allies.”

“Or at least allies who had a falling out.”

“That’s possible,” admitted her father.

Miranda said, “Well, we can chat about this until the world ends. What do you suggest?”

“We wait. I have a feeling that when Pug and Hanam finish on their side of the rift, things might get lively here.”

Miranda sighed. “Do we have the time?”

Macros shrugged. “Enough for a few more days.”

She stood. “Then I’m going to transport to Sorcerer’s Isle and get a bath. I’ll bring back some food.”

Macros shook his head. “Don’t bother. Tell Gathis I’ll be along shortly. I’ll visit with him while I eat there. It will be good to see him again. Then I intend to take a bath as well.”

She smiled. “Good. I wasn’t going to say anything . . .”

He returned her smile. “I know I haven’t been a father to you, but I must say I’m pleased with the woman I see here.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly.

“Before you go, I would like to know one thing.”

“What?”

“Pug?”

“What about him?”

“Are you going to wed?”

“If he asks me,” she said. “I love him and think we could have a good life together.”

Macros said, “I have demonstrated without question no expertise when it comes to falling in love.” He sighed in memory. “Your mother was a woman of remarkable beauty and uncommon guile. I can’t claim I was young, but I was inexperienced, and at first our time together was pleasant.” He frowned as he said, “Your birth was something neither one of us dealt with well, and for that I apologize.”

Miranda said, “What’s done is done.”

“True, but at least I can say I regret some of it.”

“Only some of it?”

“Well, I do like how you turned out, and if I could I don’t know what I would change, for to change anything in your past would risk turning you into less than you are now.”

“Or more?”

He smiled. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

She smiled at her father. “Thank you for that.”

“I mean it.” He sat back and stared at the rift. “Pug is fortunate, and if he doesn’t ask you, you do the asking. I think you need each other.”

“I thought you said you had no expertise.”

“It’s a father’s prerogative to give unwelcome advice. Now run along and take your bath.”

She vanished, and he sighed. He let regrets about past failings fade into the background as he returned his attention to the rift and wondered what was happening on the other side.

Pug stood panting, his robe torn and his face bathed in perspiration. He and Hanam had fought a battle with six man-size fliers, and the conflict had come close to ending their quest.

One of the creatures alone would not be any match for either of them, but three on Pug and three on the Saaur Loremaster had proved a close thing. Hanam feasted on the three remaining dead demons. Pug had vaporized the other three.

He watched in fascination as Hanam ate flesh and drank energies. As he shifted his perceptions, he could see how the Saaur Loremaster had used his intelligence to subvert the creature. When he was finished eating, Hanam said, “This feast will make it easier for me to concentrate.”

“How far have we to go?”

“The demons are not that clever, but they are being driven to wider patrols looking for anything to eat.” Pointing to the bits of flesh thrown around the rocks on which they stood, he said, “These would have been required to bring back anything they found to Cibul, to feed those captains attempting to open the rift to your world.” He glanced around, as if apprehensive about further detection. “By traveling along this course, we avoid many of the demons.”

“We have been flying over ice and mountains for a day and more,” said Pug.

“True.” The demon form pointed to the south. “There we will find Cibul. We may be able to come close before we have to hide ourselves from demon sense. And be warned, the spells you use to confound the simple demons may not suffice for the captains and lords.”

“I will do what needs to be done.”

“Then we must plan,” Hanam said. “I have no wish to continue this life. My soul begs to be joined with my brothers in the Sky Horde, here on Shila. So here is what I propose. Let me attack whichever great lord we may discover, drawing off any guards and servants nearby. That will give, you time to examine and close the rift to the demon realm. ”

Pug said, “A brave plan, but I don’t know if it will gain me enough time. There are things here that worry me. I have the vanity to think I know as much about the nature of rift magic as anyone, including Macros, and until I saw the empty altar at Ahsart, I would have told you that an open rift could not be moved in the fashion you describe. That means there are forces at play beyond my knowledge. It may also mean that closing the rift may be beyond my ability.”

“What will you do if that is the case?”

Pug said, “I will do the only thing I can think of: destroy the rift to Midkemia and hope that is enough.”

“With Macros attempting the same feat from the other side, will you be able to?”

“Undoubtedly one of us will succeed.”

“Then let us go among them and do what we can.”

The demon figure launched himself outward, with a snap of gigantic wings, gliding down the mountain slope rather than flying. He let his downward speed build up, and then, with a flex of his wings, he was soaring high in the air. Pug used his magic to fly after him.

They dove and flew close to the ground, in the hope of avoiding detection. Pug glanced to the west and saw the sun set. The lack of light would help a little, though demons saw at night almost as well as cats.

Above a world devastated by forces alien to anything Pug had witnessed in his life they flew; from trees to grass, from humans to the smallest insect, the lands around the once-great city of Cibul were devoid of life. Pug could sense it was more than the destruction of war or forest fire, where the land was burned, for there a sign of life would be seen here or there, even if only a blade of grass.

Here there was nothing.

They were within a mile of the city when Hanam said, “Cloak our passage, magician.”

Pug forced his mind into the difficult task of rendering the two of them invisible while flying. He felt terrible pain from the unusual exertion but accomplished
the requirements for both without faltering. For a few minutes the pain lingered, then it began to lessen as Pug mastered this combination of magics.

As they flew over the city, several demons below turned to look up, as if sensing something, but none gave alarm. Pug hoped they would reach their destination soon.

Hanam landed in what had once been a lush garden, and now was a burned-out mass of dead plants on rock. No moss or lichen, algae or mold clung to the tiniest corner of this formerly flourishing place.

Once they were safely inside a vast hall, Pug dropped the spell of invisibility. “Are you all right?” asked the Saaur Loremaster.

“It will take a minute for me to regain my strength. I need to catch my breath.” Pug managed a smile. “It’s getting easier to do this, but I’d rather not have to practice in the future under these conditions.”

“Understood. Abide here awhile. I will be back.”

So saying, the Saaur Loremaster in demon body left the room. Pug sat on the wreckage of a once-grand bed, on a piece large enough to provide him a comfortable resting place. The faint evening light could not hide the opulence of the residence. A Saaur noble of rank had slept here, perhaps the leader or his primary consort.

Pug heard a faint scuffle outside and was on his feet as Hanam entered, carrying a struggling demon by the head. As Pug watched, the Saaur cracked the skull and drank the creature’s life energies.