Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (11 page)

“I am older than you can imagine.”

Jez didn’t feel his power, but his hands wove a ward
against illusion. It snapped into place, and the starry background shattered,
leaving a room made of gray stone with a brown ceiling. The being before him,
however, was no illusion, and it remained. Jez knew what it was, and he could
think of only one thing to do, a thing he’d hoped he’d never have to do again.
He closed his eyes and touched the terrible power within him, the power he’d
used when battling Dusan and the demon lord Marrowit. He didn’t draw fully,
though. Mortal flesh couldn’t contain that power, and he wasn’t willing to risk
the damage that drawing too deeply would do, but he did draw enough to change.

Jez’s robes became brilliant blue and a crystal sword
appeared on his belt, its weight comfortable on his hip. Pure white wings
emerged from his back and he floated off the ground.

“No, you aren’t.”

Surprise flashed across the shadow’s face, evident in
spite of its concealment. The form began to evaporate until Villia stood before
him, her eyes wide. Jez returned to his normal form as well and met Villia’s
gaze. She shuddered and looked away.

“You’re no limaph,” she said.

“No.”

“You’re a pharim.”

“So are you.”

Sharim looked at the ground and her shoulders slumped.
“I was.”

“Was?”

She lifted her head and Jez found himself searching
her eyes for some sign of the ancient knowledge he knew had to reside in her
mind, but they just seemed to be ordinary eyes. Tears welled up, but she
managed to keep from crying.

“Before I rebelled.” Her voice was barely above a
whisper.

Jez stared at her, shocked by what he’d heard. The
pharim rebellion had happened so long ago it was more myth than history. Some
of the pharim had rebelled against the Creator, and as punishment, they had
been cursed to wander the earth searching for a purpose forever denied to them.
The limaph, like Osmund, were descendants of these outcasts, but they had
vanished from history so long ago many didn’t believe in them. It was almost too
impossible to believe.

“You’re an afur.”

“Have you come to destroy me?”

“I didn’t even know you were here.”

She barked out a laugh and a single tear ran down her
cheek. “You are a pharim.”

Jez bit his lower lip but only hesitated for a second.
“You should probably sit. This is about Dusan.”

Jez spent the next several minutes explaining to
Villia everything that had happened since he first went to the Academy. Her
eyes widened at times but she never interrupted. Once he was done, she gingerly
poked his arm as if making sure he was really made of flesh. Apparently
unsatisfied, she did it again. When she tried a third time, he caught her
finger and she looked up at him. She smiled and Jez released her finger.

“I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“What about you?” Jez asked. “How did you end up
here?”

She shrugged. “I am a Veilspeaker.” She coughed. “At
least I was once. Where else would I be but influencing the politics of a
kingdom?”

Jez waved his hand at the ceiling. The stars weren’t
there, but he could see them in his mind.

“And this?”

The stars appeared and started a slow movement. Villia
didn’t look away from them as she spoke. “I do what I can to remember the time
before I rebelled, when I could walk among the stars.”

“Why were you leaving?”

“I heard the rumors. There were battle demons summoned
into the keep, and I want no part in that. My abilities are limited in direct
conflict. My power was distilled when I was banished from the Keep of the
Hosts, and my essence was bound to this world.”

Jez nodded in understanding. “You can be destroyed.”

“Please, let me go.”

“Dusan summoned a demon that threatened the whole
world. If Lina is trying to do something similar...” A thought struck him, and
he pulled the book from Lina’s quarters out of his robes and handed it to
Villia. “Can you read this?”

Villia flipped through the pages and nodded. “It’s
written in the language of the Knitos who died off thousands of years before
the first king of Ashtar was born. They were demon worshipers. Where did you
get it?”

“It was in Lina’s room, hidden behind an illusion.”

“She doesn’t know this language.”

“Are you sure?”

“Not entirely, but it would take years to learn. She’s
not old enough.”

“Does it talk about how to summon Marrowit?”

“That and more.” She turned the page and shook her
head. “There are summoning rituals for at least a dozen major demons and a host
of minor ones. This book should be destroyed.”

“We can’t,” Jez said. “Not yet. We don’t know what
Lina is trying to do. This might have a way to stop her.”

Suddenly, Jez’s nostrils flared with the scent of
sulfur. It came on so strong Jez felt dizzy and he had to hold onto the table
to avoid falling. A crystal fell to the ground, and it was only then that Jez
realized the ground had been shaking. Villia scooped the crystals off the
ground and returned them to the desk. She met his gaze.

“Assuming we’re not too late already.”

Jez looked from the door to Villia. She shifted the
pack on her shoulder, but she was obviously ready to leave.

“You are needed, Shadowguard,” she said.

“Promise me you won’t leave.”

She shook her head. “No. I will be gone within an
hour. If you did not come to the city because of me, then I will not submit to
your authority.”

Again, the ground shook, and his nostrils flared. “But
you’re a pharim. You’re supposed to protect people from demons.”

She smirked. “I was a pharim, and even then, I was a
manipulator, not a warrior. You and your kind were the defenders. I don’t
believe it is in you to stay and keep me here.”

“I could bind you.”

“You won’t. If what I suspect is true, you’ll need
your strength.”

“But...” the smell of sulfur surged. Jez looked back
to the door and moved to leave. Just before he started down the stairs, he
looked over his shoulder. “You’re right. You are not a pharim.”

Jez practically flew down the stairs.
He heard screaming before he reached the bottom. The crystal sword appeared in
his hand, and he barely gave a thought to his skin crawling in response to the
power pulsing inside of him. He burst into the corridor and ran right into a
group of chezamuts surrounding a pair of cowering servants. Their surprise
lasted only a second, but by then, Jez’s sword had cut shallow gashes in two of
them, and blue fire erupted from their wounds. Though it was only a shadow of a
true pharim’s weapon, the crystal sword had been created with the purpose of
fighting demons, and even seemingly insignificant wounds dealt to such
creatures could be devastating.

The demons howled and vanished. The
other two came at him, but without the dampening effects of the prison, he was
well prepared for them. The silver binding shot out of his hand, entering one
demon through the mouth and exploding out of the back of its head. Before it
even had a chance to cry out, Jez swung his arm, pulling the light along with
it. The beam split the final demon in two. The entire engagement had happened
over the space of half a dozen heartbeats, and the servants hadn’t even had a
chance to cry out.

“Are you all right?”

A golden haired woman nodded, though she couldn’t seem
to form words.

“Go into Villia’s tower,” he said. “You should be safe
there.”

He didn’t wait to see if she went. Sulfur wafted from
every direction. Down one hall, he saw a group of soldiers holding their own
against an eight foot tall creature that stood on two legs and had the head of
a raven. It was a kantu, a scout demon that was deadly in its own right. With a
flick of his hands, Jez shot a glowing ball of water at it which enveloped the
demon in a bubble. It howled for a second, trying to claw its way out, but
though the skin of the bubble seemed thin, it resisted the demon’s efforts.
Once it slashed, and its hand got stuck. It tried to pull out, but the skin
absorbed it, pulling the demon into the bubble. The kantu floated across the
surface, banging in an effort to break out. It floated up to the ceiling, and
when the bubble popped the demon was gone. Jez didn’t stop to speak to the
guards. Odds were good not every foe would be so easy to defeat. He needed
help. He turned down a hall and pushed open the door to the stairs leading to
the dungeon.

A familiar orange light flickered beneath. Jez rushed
down the stairs, emerging in the dungeon just as a demon flared and
disappeared. Ziary had once again burned through his bars and was fighting a
dozen demons of all shapes and sizes. His sword moved so fast it looked like a
fiery blur. He was keeping them at bay, but there were so many of them, and he
couldn’t spare any attention to attack without opening himself up to reprisal.
Orange motes bleeding from wounds on his chest and arms said he had already
made that sacrifice more than once. His right wing had been broken, and orange
liquid bled out, but he used the other to push away attackers. He was like a
living weapon, but he couldn’t last long.

Jez didn’t bother to try a binding. The wards on the
prison were still intact and would dampen any working he tried. Instead, he
lunged forward, severing the spine of a creature that looked like a wolf that
stood on two legs. It stiffened before disappearing in a cloud of smoke. Ziary
met his eyes for a second before refocusing his efforts on attack.

Jez’s sword cut down two more, and Ziary destroyed one
of his own. They met in the middle of the horde and turned away from each other
so they could fight back to back. The demons surged forward, but none got
close. They all fell to crystal sword or to flaming one. In mere seconds, the
demons were gone. Ziary winced as he turned back to Jez.

“Thanks. What’s going on?”

“The keep is under attack. Come on. I need your help.”
Ziary turned to look at his cell, but Jez shook his head. “We’ll take care of
that later. I don’t know how many there are, and I’ll need all the help I can
get. Let’s go.”

Ziary nodded. His broken wing twitched, and he
gestured with his sword for Jez to lead the way.

They headed toward the throne room,
moving as quickly as they could without risking an ambush. A few times, they
encountered people fleeing, and Jez directed them to Villia’s tower. Half a
dozen times, they ran into groups of demons battling soldiers. Most of the
time, the humans were losing, and only the arrival of Jez and Ziary turned the
tide. Once, though, they found a dozen men fighting half as many demons, and
the men were winning. Steel wasn’t as effective as the flame or crystal blades
Jez and Ziary bore, but it was enough. At each encounter, more soldiers joined
Jez. By the time they reached the throne room, thirty men had gathered around
them. Most were wounded, and one had an arm that hung limply by his side, but
they all carried looks of steely determination. The demons had invaded their
home, and they would be repelled.

The door to the throne room had been torn away, its
splintered remains lying just inside. A demon, at least ten feet tall and resembling
nothing so much as a statue of molten gold, clasped its hands together and
slammed them down at the throne where King Haziel huddled in utter terror. A
dozen other creatures, smaller but otherwise identical to the larger beast,
leapt at the king. Haziel screamed. As their attacks neared, however, a sphere
of violet energy appeared around the throne. With a flash of light, the demons
were driven back several feet. Bits of gold splashed to the ground and burned
holes into the stone. One of the smaller demons turned toward Jez and his
companions. It was no more than three feet tall. Its head was human-shaped and
bald. Its face had no features whatsoever, seeming to be only a flat plane of
molten metal.

“What are those things?” Ziary asked.

“I don’t know,” Jez said.

The demon pointed and cried out in a language Jez
couldn’t understand. He had no idea how the creature spoke without a mouth, but
the sound made the hairs on his arm stand on end. The other demons turned, and
though it had no eyes, Jez knew the largest one was focused on him.

“Keep the smaller ones off my back,” he said without
taking his eyes from his foe.

“Are you sure?” Ziary asked, but Jez was already
halfway across the room.

He lifted his sword and struck at the demon, but the
creature’s body parted, flowing like water, and Jez’s blade sliced through
empty air. Behind him, the sounds of battle erupted. He slashed again, but his
second strike was just as ineffectual as the first. The demon balled its fist
and rammed it into Jez’s side. The force of the impact sent pain shooting
through his body. The next thing Jez knew, he was leaning against the wall,
twenty feet away from the throne. A blackened circle had been burned into the
side of his robe.

Ziary and the soldiers had engaged the smaller
creatures, but they were having no more luck than Jez. The demon forms were too
fluid, and they kept flowing out of the way. He needed to do something to help.
The larger demon took a step toward him, but Jez was already weaving a binding.
He threw his hands toward the head creature, and a wintery blast shot forward,
enveloping the demon. In response to Jez’s will, the wind circled the room
catching all the others. It wasn’t intended to banish them. Banishing a demon
without knowing what it was could be a risky proposition, one that failed on
the first attempt more often than not. Trying to banish over a dozen would’ve
been suicide. He could, however, bind some of their power.

The demons stiffened for a second before continuing,
and a layer of frost crept over their skin. One of the soldiers slammed his axe
into a demon, and the blow shattered the creature. Man and demon alike stopped
and stared at the pieces as they evaporated. The surprise lasted only a moment
before the demons surged forward.