Despite the fact that the Shrike was many times his size, Ignatius bit into the bird demon’s leg, stabbing it repeatedly with his tail spike. The Shrike squawked with pain and alarm, losing its footing and falling back towards the pentacle. The Hydra took the opportunity without hesitation, lumbering forward and sinking all three sets of fangs into the Shrike’s neck. The momentum took the demons, in a tangle of writhing claws and teeth, to the very edge of the portal, screeching and howling like banshees.
‘Now, Ignatius!’ Fletcher yelled, wary of the demons falling through the unstable portal and losing them all for good. The imp rolled away from the melee and blasted a plume of flame, scorching the air above Trebius and the Shrike. That was the last straw. The bird demon took one last swipe at the Hydra with its talons, then leaped back into the portal with a disappointed squawk, leaving Trebius snapping at thin air. Moments later the portal closed up, shrinking into nothingness. The wyrdlights soon followed suit, dissipating in threads of blue light, until the room was pitch black. Lovett gave a deep sigh, then her body relaxed. Fletcher was relieved to feel her chest continue to raggedly rise and fall.
The noviciates roared in triumph, but their happiness was short-lived as they heard Lovett’s choked breathing in the darkness. As Fletcher sat her up and rubbed her back, Tarquin’s voice echoed beside him.
‘You idiot, Fletcher! The Shrike was going to be my next demon!’
A wyrdlight flickered the room into light from Tarquin’s hand, then the boy pointed an angry finger at him.
‘You’re so worried about our stupid teacher. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget!’
36
The Hydra advanced on Fletcher, hissing from its forked tongues. The heads waved hypnotically, swaying back and forth like cobras about to strike.
‘Solomon!’ Othello shouted, materialising the Golem into existence. The stone demon stomped in front of Trebius and squared up against it. Ignatius soon followed, snarling furiously. Together the two stood, daring the Hydra to try and pass.
‘So the dwarf decides to put his cards on the table. I’m not surprised. The weak often stick together,’ Tarquin drawled.
‘I’ll show you how weak I am. Come try me,’ Othello growled. He circled around to stand beside Fletcher.
‘There is no time for this! Can’t you see Captain Lovett is dying?’ Fletcher yelled, furious at both of them. The teacher’s breathing was becoming more and more difficult, her prone figure taking choking gulps of air as if every second was a struggle.
‘Let the half-man fight if he wants,’ Tarquin said, drawing a gasp from the others at his racial slur. Even Fletcher knew that the word ‘half-man’ was a hugely offensive term for dwarves. Othello’s hands balled into fists but he did not rise to the bait.
‘Shut your mouth! You don’t talk to him that way!’ Fletcher roared, rage flooding his veins like liquid fire.
‘The dwarf thinks that because one of his betters was forced to give him a demon of value, he is now their equal,’ Tarquin continued, unfazed. ‘I am going to show him he is wrong. Then I’ll kill your ridiculous little imp, Fletcher. Its fire tricks don’t scare Trebius.’ At the sound of its name the Hydra hissed and pawed at the ground.
‘Brother dearest, don’t hog all the fun. I want to duel too!’ Isadora stepped into the light. She curtsied, scraping the edge of the nearest pentacle as she did so. Thin strands of white light flew from the leather to form a shape, twisting and curling until her demon stood in the centre of the pentacle.
It appeared to be much like a large feline, yet it seemed to be almost bipedal, walking in a hunched crouch, like a jungle chimpanzee. Its thick fur was striped orange and black like a tiger, with powerful muscles that rippled underneath. A sabre-tooth’s enormous canines extended on either side of its mouth, both over four inches long and ending in needle points. Just like a Canid, this demon had an extra set of eyes behind the first.
‘Never seen a Felid before?’ Isadora said, catching Fletcher’s expression of wonder. ‘My Tamil is quite the specimen. You won’t see another like him in your lifetime. Mother dearest was kind enough to bequeath him to me. It was the least she could do after Tarquin was given Father’s pride and joy.’
Tamil yowled in excitement, his tail switching back and forth. He turned his blazing eyes on Ignatius, unsheathing a set of deadly claws with practised ease.
Fletcher gulped as the two demons advanced, his anger ebbing as reality sunk home. Both had likely been their parents’ primary demons, meaning they were extremely powerful. Even with Solomon supporting him, Fletcher was sure that Ignatius was outclassed. He willed Ignatius into firing a burst of orange flame in the air, but the noble demons barely flinched as the fire flared above them.