“You’re right,” said Shane. “I don’t. But it doesn’t seem like we have much choice.”
At the foot of the staircase, Jorge held up his sword like a cross and said, “KNEEL.”
Shane staggered sideways and caught himself against the wall. The two remaining paladins charged up the steps, weapons at the ready, but Shane was already back on his feet. He lifted his head, his face a bloody mask, and roared, “Come and make me!”
In the silence that followed, Marguerite heard Jorge say, not very loudly, “Dammit, I really wanted that to work.”
The crossbowman next to her lifted his weapon and took aim, waiting for a clear shot. “No!”
Marguerite hissed.
He jerked back, startled. “What?”
“You’ll kill him!”
“That’s the idea, yes!”
The other bowman didn’t waste time arguing. Marguerite’s heart clenched at the loud thrum of the string, and was inordinately relieved when it struck Shane’s shield instead.
She didn’t get long to be relieved. Shane threw his shield down the steps, into the face of one of his opponents, slashed at the other one, then turned and ran.
Baying like hounds, the three remaining paladins of the Dreaming God gave chase.
COME ON…COME on…just a little farther… Shane’s breath was coming in sharp pants, but he was
almost there. If he could avoid taking a bolt long enough to reach the courtyard, he’d be in place for the final act of Wisdom’s little play.
It had been far too easy to play his part. He had dreaded crossing swords with his counterparts, until Kasha had staggered into his arms, coughing up blood even as she reported that two of her fellow archers were dead. Suddenly it had seemed a great deal easier. He only hoped that she’d made it to the roof in time.
Only one flight of steps and a corridor remained. The corridor was the worst. If Jorge had any sense, he’d order—
A crossbow bolt sizzled past his ear, close enough to tug at his hair.
—that.
The tide took him, sending him careening like a drunk down the hallway, harder to hit. They had to follow him, but he wasn’t going to do any good if he was full of holes by the time he got there. Just a little farther…
He turned the last corner, led on by the inexorable tug of the demon on his soul, and— there!
Shane raced through the archway into the courtyard and stumbled. Wisdom hung suspended in the air, arms outstretched, unnaturally still as only a demon could be. Even knowing what to expect, his first instinct was to freeze in his tracks.
With the Dreaming God’s people in hot pursuit, that would be tantamount to suicide. He caught himself and went forward instead. One quick glance upward, and he saw the archer standing there, arrow nocked and ready.
Wisdom hung in midair as he circled her. He heard the moment that the paladins arrived, heard the shouts of dismay and the stumble of feet as they halted.
Slowly, slowly, the demon descended. Shane caught it just as its feet touched the ground, and it sagged back into his arms. Across the channel, he felt the demon signal its readiness.
Not yet…not yet…
He looked over the demon’s shoulder to the paladins standing at the entrance to the courtyard. In another life, they might have been his brothers.
In this life…
Shane took a deep breath and shouted “Be prepared to bind it!” and rammed the sword low through Wisdom’s body. Through the gut, where it would be fatal, but not, potentially for hours.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered in the demon’s ear, as he turned himself to shield against a shot from the archer on the roof. “I will save your people, but I cannot let you go unbound.”
My god broke faith with me, but I will not break faith with my god.
He waited for pain, for punishment, for agony. Through the channel came a wash of sadness instead. Sadness—but no surprise.
The Dreaming God’s paladins ran toward him. Shane eased the falling body down and looked up into their ranks. Three paladins, with faces like avenging angels. “Bind it now,” he urged them. “That
blow won’t kill it, but I can’t swear it won’t try to jump.”
For a moment, they stood frozen, and then Jorge moved. He dropped to his knees next to Shane, slapped his palm against Wisdom’s forehead…and stopped.
“What?” said Shane. “What’s wrong?”
Something was wrong. It wasn’t the Dreaming God’s people. It wasn’t the channel with Wisdom.
It was the body itself, so unnaturally still in his arms, not the stillness of a demon but a different stillness entirely.
He grabbed the tip of his glove in his teeth and yanked it loose, laying his hand alongside Jorge’s.
The other paladin didn’t flinch, merely gazed at him steadily. His skin was hot, slick with sweat, but the skin beneath both their palms was the same temperature as the surrounding air.
“It’s dead,” Shane said numbly. “It’s already dead.”
I knew you’d never actually turn on them, Wisdom whispered through the channel.
“Where is it then?” said Jorge. “Where did it jump?”
“I…” Shane shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. It said it wanted me to kill it so that it could get back to hell without being bound. But it knew I was going to betray it. It knew.”
Jorge ground his teeth together, then slumped. He leaned forward, looking deeply into Shane’s eyes for a moment, then reached out and gripped his shoulder. “You should have known better than to deal with a demon,” he said, almost gently.
“I did know,” Shane said. He could already feel its presence draining away. “It was the only way to save the others.”
“I know why you did it. The Dreaming God prevent me from ever having to make the same choice… NOW STAND. ”
Shane felt only the reflexive twitch of obedience that any ordinary human felt. He stayed on his knees. Jorge sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I can’t tell,” he muttered. “Dreaming God help me, I can’t tell. The taint is there, but I don’t see the demon in you, but it was old and subtle and we were friends…”
“We were,” said Shane, acknowledging the past tense.
“We have our orders,” said one of the other paladins. Shane didn’t recognize him. No surprise there, really, it’s been a long time and there were always far more servants of the Dreaming God than the Saint.
“Right.” Jorge took a deep breath. “The priests felt that you were too dangerous to leave alive.
Probably I should kill you now. But you’ve surrendered, and so I must give you the choice. The water or the sword.”
A clean death, or being drowned over and over until I die and the demon leaves me. But there is no demon in me. The thought of his own death no longer had much power to move him, but where had Wisdom gone?
And then, suddenly, he knew. Shane lifted his eyes, past Jorge, past the other paladins, to the
roofline, where the archer was already gone.
FIFTY-TWO