Rage of a Demon King (Serpentwar Book 3)

Greylock turned and grabbed the Prince of Krondor’s tunic. To lay hands on royalty was a hanging offense, but at that moment he wasn’t a General offering insult to his liege lord, he was the old Swordmaster of Darkmoor training an impulsive young soldier. ‘Highness, your position is here. And if you go get yourself killed, and we win this war, then I have some very difficult explaining to the King and I would rather be spared that conversation with your father. Be a good lad and do your job, and we’ll do ours.’ He released Patrick’s tunic, then brushed aside an imaginary speck of dirt, saying, ‘I think that’s it.’ Turning toward the door, he said, ‘Erik, shall we go?’

 

 

Erik followed, leaving a chastened ruler, who swore as he realized his commander was correct.

 

 

 

 

 

The demon bellowed as he swooped down toward the abandoned city of Sethanon. He challenged any who might interfere with his goal, and none answered.

 

Jakan landed before a destroyed gate, leading into a burned-out keep. He looked around and saw no one.

 

Something called to him and he felt frustrated he could not locate the origin of the call. He turned, bellowing a challenge toward every compass point. No one answered.

 

Screaming his rage to the sky, he set out searching, looking for something to fight, someone to kill, the source of the calling that sang to him, pulling him toward a goal he didn’t understand, but one which filled him with a hunger that surpassed anything he had known before. Then a thought came to the demon. The demon didn’t recognize that the thought was not his own, that a vast and evil being an unimaginable distance away was reaching out to plant in the demon’s mind knowledge: how to reach the Lifestone.

 

 

 

 

 

Nakor looked upward. No one heard the demon roar, but they sensed it. ‘He’s near.’

 

Tomas nodded, holding the golden blade in his hand. He glanced at Pug and said, ‘I didn’t realize how much I missed this.’

 

Pug said, ‘I really wish you didn’t have to use it.’

 

Miranda said, ‘I feel the same way.’

 

All waited as the demon above stalked the city, searching for the source of his hunger. ‘Maybe he won’t find us,’ Nakor said.

 

‘Want to bet on that?’ asked Miranda.

 

Nakor grinned. ‘No.’

 

Pug said, ‘If he doesn’t figure out how to shift his place in time slightly, he could look for us for years and not find us.’

 

Nakor said, ‘If he’s stupid, maybe, but I think the Nameless One might turn him in the right direction.’

 

‘Right,’ said Miranda, glancing upward. ‘You would think of that.’

 

Again they felt the demon’s rage, reverberating through the ground into the chamber.

 

Miranda looked at Calis, who stood with eyes closed and hands on the Lifestone. The gem was now half the size it had been when they had found it, and the specks of green energy were flying through them constantly. Miranda said, ‘Nakor, you look younger.’

 

Nakor grinned. ‘Am I handsome yet?’

 

Miranda laughed. ‘Hardly, but you do look younger.’

 

‘It’s the Iifestone,’ said Pug. ‘It’s rejuvenating us.’

 

Miranda’s forehead furrowed. ‘That explains it,’ she said as she put her hand on her stomach.

 

‘What?’ asked Nakor.

 

‘Cramps. I haven’t had them for a hundred and fifty years.’

 

Nakor laughed.

 

Suddenly the room erupted in a howl of rage, echoing through the rocks from above.

 

‘I think,’ said Nakor, ‘he’s very close.’

 

 

 

 

 

Erik stood on the wall overlooking the main gate. A huge ram was being rolled toward the outer wall and Manfred shouted, ‘Fire!’

 

Catapults unleashed a veritable rain of rocks, and many of the attackers were struck down, but the ram rolled toward them. It had a wooden roof, protecting the men below, and Manfred said, ‘If they breach this gate, they’re into the inner city. We can’t fight house to house. We’ll nave to fall back to the citadel.’ Erik said, ‘Reinforcements are on the way.’

 

‘Well, they’d better get here in the next hour,’ said Manfred. ‘Otherwise we’re going to be overrun.’ He turned and shouted, ‘Oil!’

 

Cauldrons of hot oil were poured over the wall, showering scalding death over those below. Men screamed and some retreated, but another wave rushed the wall, carrying scaling ladders.

 

‘Down!’ shouted Greylock, and Erik and his half-brother both acted instinctively, ducking behind the wall over the main gate to the city as a hundred arrows flew overhead.

 

Men who had been slow to react screamed, many falling from the wall into the city streets.

 

Manfred crouched next to Erik, both with their backs against the cold stone of the city walls. Manfred looked around at the injured and dying. ‘If your reinforcements don’t get here in the next ten minutes, I’m giving the order to withdraw.’

 

Erik, hunkering down, said, ‘They can’t get here in ten minutes.’

 

‘Well, then we’d better begin an orderly withdrawal.’ He turned to a man in the tabard of Darkmoor, with a sergeant’s chevrons embroidered above his heart. ‘Tell the men to withdraw by sections. Start at the south wall, and get them to High Street. We’ll fight our way back from there. Destroy the catapults. We can’t allow them to be turned on us.’

 

A thunder of hooves and Erik risked a glance between two merlons. Saaur riders were massing at the far end of the gate. Erik said, ‘Manfred, as soon as that gate is open, you’re going to have a company of Saaur riders coming through!’

 

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