Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (13 page)

“Run!” Bonny said.

Off they went, but not before Elu stabbed the beast again in the sole of its foot, prompting another howl.

Bonny led them to a second crossroads, turning left and then right. Rathburt was limping and complaining, and whatever magic he had temporarily wielded seemed to have once again gone dormant. The light from the torch barely extended beyond Ugga, but it became obvious they were being pursued. A strange cacophony hounded them, growing louder and more frightening.

Lucius heard Bonny scream. Only it sounded more like a high-pitched squeal.

In the dim torchlight, he could see large figures slipping toward them—from both directions.

“We’re trapped!” the pirate woman said. “We’ll have to fight our way out.”

Though his face felt hot and his vision blurry, Lucius managed to squeeze past her, holding the war club above his head and the
uttara
at waist level. The first of their assailants entered the torchlight: a Porisāda almost as large as Bard. The Mogol cannibal also wielded a war club, which glowed in response to the one Lucius held. Apparently the weapons were magically entwined.

There were more Porisādas behind the leader, and they too crept forward into the light. Lucius braced himself for attack, but he knew he was no match for these warriors. He found himself wishing Torg were with them.

Goodbye, Laylah,
he thought to himself.

That’s when he heard Ugga growl.

THOUGH UGGA’S vision was no better than that of his companions, his sense of smell was superior. He knew Bard’s scent better than anyone’s, but he had grown familiar with his other friends, as well. When the ghoulies had passed by them on the street, the stench had been overwhelming, assaulting his senses like a blast of foul wind. Even after they passed, the reek had lingered, making him want to vomit.

When the cave troll approached, Ugga smelled it before he saw it, turning just in time to counter the blow. Then Elu had come to the rescue, stabbing the beast with the dagger Master Hah-nah had given him.

What a brave little guy
!

After that, they ran like fools, stumbling down the dark alley as quick as they could. But even as they fled, Ugga could smell the approach of more pursuers, including ghoulies and vam-pie-ers. But there was something worse, a scent unfamiliar to the crossbreed. And it was growing in intensity. Even the ghoulies and vam-pie-ers fled from it, crawling up the walls and disappearing onto rooftops.

The crossbreed felt hairs on the back of his neck start to rise. Aggressive instincts from his former existence took over, and he started to growl.

BARD HEARD Ugga’s growl, but he had no time to turn and help his companion. The leader of the Porisādas pounded his war club against Lucius’, knocking the weapon out of the firstborn’s hand and driving him to the ground. Despite the cramped alleyway, Bard nocked an arrow, drew the feathers to his ear, and loosed it. The arrow zipped over Radburt’s left shoulder, passed within a hair of Bonny’s nose, and pierced the Porisāda chieftain in his heart.

With surprising agility, Missus Bonny met the next attacker, ducking under his club and stabbing him in the stomach with the point of her cutlass. But there was another behind the one she had just got—and many more beyond. In rapid succession, Bard loosed three more arrows, striking a different warrior each time. But for each fallen body, another immediately replaced it.

Bard cast down his bow and drew his daggers, which were carved from the talons of a mountain eagle—a present from Jord long ago. He squeezed past Rathburt, leaped over the fallen Lucius, and shoved Missus Bonny aside just in time to deflect a deadly blow. A poisoned dart struck the wall near his neck and another stuck in the sleeve of his coat, just missing his bicep. In a fit of anger Bard surged forward, wielding the daggers like claws. He was stronger than the wicked Mogols, and the close quarters worked to his advantage. At first the Porisādas were driven back, but then a dart found its mark, piercing Bard in the cheek. Instantly his vision clouded, and his legs went all wobbly.

As he collapsed, he heard Elu shouting in his high-pitched voice:

“A Daasa comes. A Daasa!”

WHEN THE BEAR-man growled, Elu ran to his side, ready to confront whatever approached. But what he saw next caused even his brave heart to quail. The oddly shaped creature that came forward was as thick as a boulder, the walls of the alley breaking apart as it passed. Three pairs of snapping fangs sprang from its round, brown head.

A part of Elu wanted to run. He saw a hole at the bottom of the wall just large enough for his body, and he imagined himself crawling inside and escaping. Afterward he would find Torg and Laylah.
Who could blame him?
One of them had to survive to tell the story of the others. It was the smart thing to do.

But Elu had a warrior’s courage, and his concern for his friends overwhelmed his desire to flee. He raised the Tugarian dagger and waved it in front of him. Blue fire leapt from the blade. The ruined Daasa halted for a moment, then came forward again. Elu braced himself, knowing he would prick the beast at least once before he was squished.

Instead of lunging, the Daasa stopped a pace away from Ugga, leaned back on its powerful haunches, and then hurdled Elu’s companions, crushing down on the Porisādas. The Daasa continued forward, fast as a Buffelo, driving the rest of the warriors back and clearing the way for the others.

Bonny tossed the torch to Rathburt and then helped Lucius to his feet. The firstborn still held his
uttara
, but his war club lay on the ground. Rathburt knelt over Bard and plucked the dart from his cheek. The trapper remained pale and lifeless.

“We have to run,” Bonny shouted. “Follow the Daasa!”

Ugga reached down, picked up Bard, and slung him over his shoulder. Rathburt grabbed Lucius’ war club, and Elu scooped up Bard’s bow. As a group, they chased after Bonny. Lucius’ right shoulder seemed to Elu to be off-kilter, and his arm dangled limply, but he kept up the quick pace. The Daasa turned left, then right, then left again, and suddenly they were charging out of the alley. Before them was a vast open area teeming with Mogols, monsters, and pirates. Elu stopped and sighed. Surely they were doomed.

RATHBURT STOOD in the street and stared at the tumult, his eyes adjusting slowly to the morning light. Bard was hurt, maybe dying; Lucius also was injured. But even worse, the six of them—seven if you counted the ruined Daasa—had come face to face with an army of Mogols, pirates, and monsters. For one of the few times in his life, Rathburt found himself wishing Torg was with them. Showoff or not, he at least would be able to conjure enough magic to put up a respectable fight.

Still, Rathburt was not afraid. An eerie calm had come over him, sweeping away his cowardice. He held his staff in his right hand and Lucius’ war club in his left and prepared to meet his doom.

I’m no
warrior
, he thought,
but I’ll get at least one of you boogers.

Even as his enemies closed around him, Rathburt felt a sudden surge of energy rush over his body—like a blast of wind filled with fire—causing him to cry out. The next moment, an enormous explosion shook Duccarita, and a great pillar of flame rose from an inner portion of the city. Shards of fiery wood, thrown high into the air, tumbled upon them like meteors, stunning the Mogols and pirates. Some of them ran, and others covered their faces, but the bravest raised their weapons and shouted words of defiance.

At that moment, the sun peeked over the eastern wall of Duccarita. The blinding light reflected off swords, daggers, and helms. In addition to all their other problems, Rathburt saw that there were golden soldiers in attendance. Could it get any worse? He shielded his eyes and stared.

Suddenly, as if leaping from the bedrock itself, a Daasa, transformed from timid to monstrous, sprang from a hole in the stone. Dozens, then hundreds, then thousands followed, emerging from the slave pits in a rush of rage. As if in a feeding frenzy, the horrid-looking beasts tore into their captors. Now even the bravest fled. But it was no use. The Daasa were too many and too fierce. The City of Thieves would soon be overrun.

An angry Daasa approached within a single pace. Rathburt had no desire to harm the creature. Even if he managed to kill it, he couldn’t kill the rest. He lowered the war club and his staff, exposing his neck to the beast’s clapping fangs.

But the Daasa did not attack. Instead, it raced off in search of other prey.

They mean us no harm. We are protected
.

At that moment Torg and Laylah appeared, walking toward them hand-in-hand, both as naked as the day they were born. The wizard held the Silver Sword in his free hand; the sorceress carried Obhasa. The Daasa avoided them as well, but killed everyone and everything else. The streets began to clear. The City of Thieves was being cleansed of its sinful keepers.

“Modesty is not your finest quality,
Torgon
,” Rathburt whispered to himself. “Do you never tire of showing off?”

TORG WAS growing weary of being naked so much. Often when he wielded his magic, he could preserve his clothing with a protective sheath of blue energy. But when Laylah had released his chaotic power, his pirate outfit had been incinerated, as had hers. Silly as they were, he’d become fond of his colorful new clothes. At least they were warm. He wished he had Jord’s ability to conjure magical clothing, but that highly convenient art surpassed him.

When a pair of terrified pirates tried to run past him, he reached out and banged their heads together, cracking their skulls. Then he removed their knee-length jackets and gave one to the sorceress.

“Here is my first present to you, my love,” Torg said. “I made it myself.”

Laylah laughed. “Why, thank you. I’ll treasure it always, even if it does stink like cigars.”

The carnage continued all around them, but Torg paid it little heed. His concerns over how Lucius initially would manage the Daasa no longer worried him. It was obvious the creatures were grateful for being rescued and knew whom to credit for it. But would that be enough for them to follow Lucius into battle against deadly enemies? That remained to be seen.

Amid the confusion, Torg noticed Ugga leaning over Bard, who was lying motionless on the street. He and Laylah raced over and knelt beside the handsome trapper. When Ugga saw Torg, his broad face brightened.

“Master Hah-nah, ya must help me Bard. A nasty dart stuck him in the face, and he is dying, I swears.”

Torg saw a tiny prick of blood on Bard’s cheek, just above his beard. A purple ring had expanded around it. He took Obhasa from Laylah.

“This must be done quickly,” he said to the others. “Form a circle around us and be certain nothing disturbs me. I need to concentrate.”

Torg lowered the rounded head of Obhasa and held it a finger-length above Bard’s cheek. A tendril of blue-green flame, thin as a human hair, sprang from the staff and leapt into the wound, vaporizing the poison that lingered near the surface. Then Torg touched the wound with his sensitive fingertips, sensing that some of the poison already was working its way into Bard’s brain. Torg willed more healing energy into the wound, until the trapper’s entire face became encased in magical fire. Suddenly Bard’s back arched and body convulsed. Without hesitation, Torg pressed his mouth against Bard’s, exhaling healing essence into his companion’s lungs. Bard’s body went limp, but the color slowly returned to his face.

Ugga sobbed. “Have ya healed him, Master Hah-nah? Have ya saved me Bard with a kiss?”

“The Mogols use terrible poisons that usually kill within moments, but Bard is stronger than most,” Torg responded. “He’ll sleep a little bit, but I believe he’ll be fine when he wakes. It was close. A while longer, and it might have been too late.”

Bonny tugged on the sleeve of Torg’s new coat.

“Lucius is hurt too,” the pirate woman said, motioning to the firstborn, who tottered nearby.

“I’ll be all right,” Lucius said with a grimace, but his right shoulder drooped, and his arm was swollen throughout its length.

“He saved me from a Porisāda,” Bonny said, her eyes full of adoration. “Can you heal him like you healed Bard?”

Torg walked over to Lucius. “I can heal you. But it might be a while before you regain full strength in the arm.”

“Do I have any choice? I won’t be much good at leading my new army the way I am now.”

Torg smiled. “From the looks of your arm, a bone has been broken. And your shoulder needs to be forced back into place. That might hurt the worst.”

Lucius nodded and gritted his teeth. When it was over, the firstborn’s arm and shoulder were healed, and his posture returned to normal. This relieved Bonny, but she finally noticed that Rakkhati was not among them, giving Torg a quizzical look.

“Rakkhati did not survive the horror of the
Mahanta pEpa
,” Torg said to her.

Bonny’s dark eyes filled with tears. “I will miss him so much. He rescued me from the streets and introduced me to the glory of
Ekadeva
, the
One God
. I was a terrible person before I repented.”

The pirate woman then took Lucius’ left hand in hers. “I’m a good woman now,” she said to the firstborn. “With Rakkhati gone, I have nowhere to go. Can I come along with you? I promise not to cause trouble. And I can fight better than you might think.”

Lucius smiled at her. “My lady, it would be an honor if you joined me. As for your past, it can’t be any worse than mine. But I can’t swear to you that I’ll ever believe in
Ekadeva, Uppādetar
or any other. In fact, right now I’m sick and tired of gods of any kind.”

“The
One God
will change you, but I promise not to bother you about it. We’ll win our war first and talk about God later.”

Lucius said, “Fair enough.”

Torg agreed.
Fair enough
.

WHEN BONNY came to him and offered her services in battle, Lucius was stunned again. Why she cared so much about him was baffling, but he wasn’t about to complain. In a short time he had grown quite fond of the red-haired pirate. Any time he thought of her, his emotional pain over losing Laylah became far more tolerable to bear.

However, something entirely new distracted Lucius even more than his injuries or feelings for Bonny. A source he could not identify assaulted a portion of his mind, as if someone or something was trying to communicate with him in a language he could not comprehend.

Bonny noticed his strange expression and patted his back. “Are you all right, sweety? Is the pain still bugging you? Maybe you should sit down and rest.”

Lucius heard her voice, but it sounded far away.

“Firstborn, what disturbs you?” said the wizard, who also noticed his distraction.

“I’m not sure,” Lucius muttered. “There’s a weird sort of buzzing in my head. Could one of those darts have hit me? Wait
 . . .
listen
 . . .
can’t you hear it?”

Laylah moved beside Torg. “The Daasa are making all kinds of noise,” the sorceress said to Lucius. “It sounds as if they’re tearing down half the city. Is that what you mean?”

But Lucius could not understand her. The noise inside his head continued to intensify. Lucius’ vision began to blur, and his legs went out from under him again. This time Bonny caught him and lowered him gently to the ground. Now he was barely lucid, his mind spiraling out of control.

In a series of frenetic memories, the firstborn found himself reliving his life—backward.

He was in Avici, helping Laylah escape.

He was humiliated by Mala in the training grounds east of Uccheda.

He was reporting nervously to Invictus.

He was riding in a wagon from Kilesa to Avici.

He was being taught to read and write in the learning academies deep in the catacombs of Kilesa.

He was rising, twisting, tearing out of a pod of clingy goo, taking his first gasps of air. Invictus was there with his scientists and magicians, watching his birth with fascination. Lucius could see the shredded remains of the body that had borne him. It was swollen, pink, and splattered.

It once had been a Daasa.

In sudden comprehension, Lucius realized with horror that Invictus was using the living bodies of the pink-skinned creatures to magically breed his army of newborns. No wonder the sorcerer had been resistant to Mala’s requests to tame Duccarita. Invictus needed the
Mahanta pEpa
to prevent the Daasa from shape-shifting, not so that he could torture them, but so that he could use their bodies as birthing chambers.

Lucius had been the first to be born this way.

The Daasa, in effect, were his kin. They shared the same flesh.

And the same oneness of mind.

Lucius sat up and let out a shout, nearly giving Bonny a heart attack.

“You bastaaaarrrrd!” he screamed with all his might.

“What’s wrong with Master Loo-shus?” he heard Ugga saying. Somehow the crossbreed’s gentle voice brought Lucius back to full awareness. The others stood in front of him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and concern.

“For Anna’s sake,” Rathburt whined. “Not even
The Torgon
ever scared me that bad. Are you trying to end all our lives?”

But Lucius wasn’t listening. “Jord must have known. That’s why she brought us here. She must have
known
. But how is that possible? Did she
see
?”

“See what?” Ugga and Rathburt said in perplexed unison.

“What Invictus has done. Of all his cruel acts, this is the worst.”

Though the others remained baffled, Torg seemed to intuit what Lucius was trying to say. The wizard turned and faced the slave pits, raising Obhasa aloft. A burst of blue flame, laced with tendrils of green, scorched the air like dragon fire. “Behold!” he shouted in a voice so loud even Lucius was startled. “The army of the
Pathamaja
(Firstborn) has won its first battle. And now it returns to its general!”

Only what returned was not ten thousand monsters with clapping fangs and swollen bodies. Instead, the Daasa had reverted to their gentler form. One by one, they wandered up, their pink faces beaming like children without a care in the world.

“Aaaaah
 . . .
” Bonny said.

Lucius felt the same kind of affection. And when he stepped forward, the first of the returning Daasa gathered around him. Some even lay on their backs, like submissive dogs wanting their tummies scratched.