Sandus inhaled. “So the boy was right. You’re still alive.”
“Technically? No. I’m not.” Gadrith held his hands up, letting the full sleeves of his long black robes fall back against his elbows. “Shall we finish this? Once and for all time?”
Sandus stared at the demon, then at Gadrith. “The last time we fought, you lost. Have you forgotten that now I am Emperor?”
“Oh, I have never forgotten. You are what I made you.”
Xaltorath turned away from them and started toward the center of the City. He reached over and tossed a shopkeeper to his death, splattering the back of his skull against a brick wall.
“So, who shall you deal with first, Your Majesty?” Gadrith said. “The demon prince? Or the man who destroyed your family? Would you like to know what I did with the soul of your wife? I’m willing to go into explicit detail.”
Sandus’s nostrils flared. He chanted in a foreign tongue. Balls of deadly energy formed around his hands. He answered by tossing them straight at Gadrith the Twisted.
He expected it to be the beginning volley of an epic mage duel, the first round of a fight that only he could handle, because Gadrith was so very dangerous.
Instead, Gadrith took the blows to the chest, gritting his teeth together in a horrible smile. He sank to his knees while the energy burned his skin and consumed his body.
Gadrith laughed as he died.
Too late, Emperor Sandus realized his terrible mistake.
* * *
“We can’t stay here while the City burns,” Tyentso said to Teraeth.
The vané chewed on his thumb as the church to his goddess* filled with bodies, living and dead. Refugees poured inside—thinking they could find shelter here from the demons ravaging the City.
But even the Cathedral of Thaena wasn’t safe. The demons would come there too.
“I’m not capable of taking on a demon prince,” Teraeth admitted. “Even my arrogance has its limits.”
“Clear the way,” a deep voice bellowed, and the people who stood over Kihrin’s corpse looked up to see Qoran Milligreest and a group of soldiers carrying someone on a cloak.
Tyentso’s eyes widened. “I thought he was in Khorvesh.”
“He’s the High General,” Teraeth whispered. “Someone must have brought him back through a gate.”
Therin tore his gaze away from his son’s corpse as he heard Milligreest’s voice. His breath caught. “Is that … Is that Jarith?”
The soldiers laid Jarith’s body down on the floor in what clear space was available. There was no obvious injury on the man, but that did not change that he was dead, his face frozen midscream.
Milligreest said to Therin, “Can he be Returned?” His voice was even and tight, thick as iron bars.
“I’m not sure—” Therin bent down to look at Jarith. It was as if he had never stopped being a priest, the old ways returning to him by instinct.
“If a demon tore his soul out, there’s nothing that can be done,” Tyentso said. “I’m sorry, Qoran.”
The High General’s head whipped up at the sound. He looked at her, brows drawn together as he tried to place a voice he hadn’t heard in twenty years. Recognition dawned, and the man shook his head. “Raverí, you shouldn’t have come back.”
“Never knew what was good for me,” Tyentso answered. She turned to Teraeth. “Give us a moment?”
Teraeth frowned at her and the High General, then nodded as he returned to Lady Miya’s side. Therin followed, either to give Tyentso and the High General their privacy or because he was protective of Miya around males of her own kind.
“How bad is it?” Tyentso asked.
Qoran scowled. “As grim as I’ve ever seen it. Why have you—”
She laid a hand on his arm. “That can wait. First, I have to deal with Gadrith.”
“You won’t need to,” Qoran said. “Gadrith’s the only thing that’s gone right so far.”
Tyentso’s expression tightened. “What?”
Qoran shrugged. “Sandus killed him. At least we only have to worry about Xaltorath.”
“Sandus killed…” Tyentso exhaled. “That bastard. That slimy morgage-sucking, goat-raping demon’s cunt!”*
The High General blinked at her, taken aback by the naked anger of her words.
Tyentso leaned up and kissed Qoran on the cheek. “I’ve missed you, Qoran. But Sandus is dead, and Gadrith is very much alive. You and the others need to stop Xaltorath. I’ll take care of my … husband.”
She turned away from him and ran outside into the burning night.
83: XALTORATH’S DAUGHTER
The hunting demons came back the second time, quiet save for the occasional soft growl from the dogs. No doubt it was one thing to skirt the edges of the dragon’s lake domain, and quite another to come near when the dragon might be injured, angry … hungry.
They inspected the edge of the water until they were certain that there was no dragon about to descend on them—and then continued with their search. The demons gave shouts of triumph as they found the body of the unconscious woman.
The hunt master dismounted, motioning to two of his men to grab the woman by the arms and hold her up in the air. He grabbed her chin and turned her head from side to side. She was tall and lean. A single stripe of hair ran from her upper forehead to the base of her neck, black or crimson, depending on how the light struck it. The skin of her face was a red-brown hue, but her hands were black.
The demon laughed and said something. Then he pulled a knife from his belt and moved to slice open the woman’s throat.
Kihrin stepped out from his hiding space and whistled to draw their attention. He spun the gold spear in his right hand with practiced ease. “Why are you doing that, buck-head? She’s one of yours, isn’t she?”
The horned demon turned, surprised and pleased. **So quaint. You think that all our kind are friends? The strong prey on the weak. It is the only law.**
“Really?” Kihrin chuckled. “That’s … stupid. Impressively stupid. I know demons aren’t smart, but no wonder you all lost the last war. Step away from her. I didn’t leave her there for you to kill.”
The demon licked his knife before he put it back to the unconscious woman’s throat. **Drop your weapon and surrender, or I feed on her soul.**
“Again with you being an idiot,” Kihrin said. “You really can’t help yourself, can you? I’m not saving her from you. I’m giving you a chance to leave here and go back to your masters before it’s too late. Take it.”
The demon laughed. **You’ll take on all of us? By yourself?**
Kihrin smiled with the warmth of a man who didn’t believe himself outmatched. “You must be young. Tell me, did your masters even bother to tell you just who it was you hunted tonight?”
The demon’s expression hid in shadow, but his growl carried through the air well enough. **A boy. A boy not yet past his first quarter-century, no matter the vané blood that runs through dead veins. A boy named Kihrin.**
“This life, sure. Didn’t Xaltorath tell who I used to be? He has to know. I’ll give you one last chance…”