Maarg had made a pact with someone to have those odd creatures who looked like Pantathians open the rift to the Saaur world and to this world. But that was Maarg’s worry. Let him rot on Shila or return to the demon realm and its limited pleasures. Jakan was the only one of his kind on this world, and his power was growing by the day.
He glanced at his left arm and saw the tremendous growth that had occurred. The last human he had devoured he had swallowed whole, and he had found a wonderful moment of delight as the creature screamed for almost a full minute inside his gullet. And now he was pleased to see the human’s face appearing on his belly. He flexed his shoulders and felt his great wings nearly touch the sides and tops of the pavilion. He would have to have it enlarged. The illusion of the Emerald Queen could move easily through the tent, but Jakan was now close to twenty feet tall, and as long as he fed, he would continue to grow. For a brief instant, he considered limiting his feeding, then dismissed the idea as too alien.
He ducked as he moved under the tent flap held open for the Queen by her guards. Fadawah and Tithulta appeared to be following at a respectable distance; no one without magic sight could see the mystic chains and collars Jakan had fashioned to keep them in tow.
The nearby army saw the Emerald Queen reach the large tent she had erected for the wounded. She entered and found a few soldiers attempting to tend the dying. ‘Leave,’ she commanded, and those able to do so obeyed, for most suspected what was about to happen.
Jakan moved to the first man, unconscious but still alive.
The demon scooped him up with one hand and bit his head off, swallowing it. The blood and life forces that ran down the demon’s throat filled him with an almost painful pleasure. Never had a demon risen so rapidly, become so powerful, and still had so much potential before him. He would be the mightiest Demon King in the history of the race! Nothing would withstand his march, and when he had devoured this planet, he would use the rift knowledge these people possessed to reach other worlds. Eventually, he thought, I will be a god!
He turned toward a man who could barely move for his injuries, but whose eyes were wide with terror as he attempted to crawl away from the horror he had just witnessed. Jakan realized that, in his bloodlust, he had let his illusion drop, and now sick and dying men moaned in terror. Grinning, with blood still running down his chin, Jakan moved to the man and impaled him on a single talon, lifting him twitching before him. Then with a snap, he devoured him, delighting in the feel of the twitching body sliding down his huge gullet. Never has there been one such as I, he thought.
Jakan turned to his puppet, Fadawah, and said, ‘Order the attack! We overrun the puny humans today!’
The vacant eyes of Fadawah didn’t register any reaction. He turned and stuck his head outside the tent and said, ‘Order all units to attack!’
Soon, thought Jakan, I will feast on thousands and then I will reach this place, Sethanon, and see what it is that calls me there.
Calis smiled. ‘It’s like untying a knot!’
He had two hands upon the lifestone and the pulsing green light was bathing him, washing over him, infusing him. Though he didn’t move a muscle, he had never looked more animated, alive and powerful to those who knew him.
His father came to stand next to him and asked, ‘What do you see?’
‘Father,’ said Calis, enraptured, ‘I see everything!’
A six-foot-tall spinning column of green energy sprang up atop the gem, and undulated with a keening sound. Faces flickered in the flame, and Tomas’s golden blade came to the ready.
‘The Valheru!’ he said in a hoarse whisper, his every sense tuned and ready for battle.
‘No,’ said Calis. ‘This is but an echo of their former existence. What they sought to become eluded them. What they returned to recover was never theirs.’ He turned to look at his father. ‘Stand ready.’
‘For what?’
‘For the change.’ Calis closed his eyes, and the flame shot upward, into the ceiling of the cavern, and ran along the rocky surface, fanning out in a circle. As it spread out from the point of impact, it thinned, diminishing to nothing more than a faint green overlaying the golden shimmer of Nakor’s protective screen.
Tomas dropped to his knees, the sword falling from his hands, as a moan of pain escaped him. He clutched his chest and stomach, as if in agony. Pug rushed to his side, saying, ‘What is it?’
Tomas’s teeth were clenched and he shook. He was unable to answer.
Calis said, ‘That which was Valheru is returned to the world.’ Pug left Tomas and came to Calis’s side. ‘Will he live?’
‘He will,’ answered Cabs. ‘He is more than Valheru. As am I.’