Demonkin (21 page)

His was a noble cause — horrific, but noble — and Jyllith knew now Divad truly believed this was the best way to save the people of the Five Provinces. Divad would save them the only way he knew how, even if the cost of doing that was his own eternal torture. When it came time to close this portal, Jyllith was going to regret killing him.

“Come.” Divad set out across the broken quarry. “The sun is setting and you must be famished. We'll eat, and after we do I'll tell you everything.”

Jyllith followed and considered all the possible reasons Hecata would oppose Divad's plan, betray him by helping her. Was Hecata competing with her husband for power, hoping to deny him a victory in the Five Provinces? Or was she playing an even deeper game?

Jyllith couldn't know, and even the thought of Hecata's black eyes drove rational thoughts from her mind. Whatever Hecata's reasons, Divad now trusted Jyllith. Jyllith would make the best of that.

She had much to do before she killed herself.

AFTER DINNER, AS PROMISED, JYLLITH followed Divad to his study. Ancient scrolls covered Divad's battered wooden desk. A decrepit looking rocking chair sat under a curtained window, next to a single bed, neat and tucked. Divad unfurled a scroll and spread it open on his desk.

“Here,” he said. “This is how we end all wars.”

Complex interlocking glyphs covered Divad's scroll. Jyllith understood none of them, but did recognize the distinctive curving style and spiky lines of demon glyphs. The scroll looked ancient, possibly as old as the books in the Terras library. Had Cantrall brought it from Terras?

“What am I looking at?” Jyllith asked.

“The portal in that cave only allows one Mavoureen through at a time, and the cost is great. Magesand, more than you can imagine. We've used it all, but that portal was never my only plan.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I can't trust anyone else. Five days from now marks a rare convergence in the Underside, the day their realm and ours are closest. On that day, two people must scribe these glyphs together on either side of a gate or doorway. I chose the south gate of Knoll Point.”

“So you want me to help you scribe these glyphs?” Jyllith stared at the flowing lines. “These will open a gateway?” Something about these glyphs tugged at her mind, but she could not pin it down.

“These glyphs,” Divad said, “will forever link our world with the Underside. This is the same set of glyphs the Terras elders used so many years ago.”

Jyllith had thought those glyphs lost, that curse destroyed. Evidently, she and everyone else in the Five Provinces had thought wrong.

“Once that gate opens,” Divad said, “no one still living can close it. The last mage capable of closing a gate was Torn, and he is long since dead.”

Divad was incorrect — there was at least one woman still alive who
could
close a Mavoureen gate — but if he did not know about Kara, Jyllith would not betray her. If Jyllith failed to stop Divad, Kara might have to.

“After we open the gate,” Divad said, “Paymon's army will take over the Five Provinces. With Rain crushed, Mynt and Tellvan at war, and Metla Tassau and Rillan both gone, no army will stand against him for long. Once Paymon rules us, all provinces will have lasting peace.”

“You're certain.” Jyllith needed to know exactly how committed he was to this insanity. “What if Paymon simply kills us all?”

“He won't do that.” Divad fixed her with a truly earnest gaze. “Like the Five, Paymon craves the worship of souls. So long as we turn our faith from the Five to the Mavoureen, he will rule us fairly. That is what these ancient conflicts are about. Our souls.”

“How is Paymon any better than the Five?”

“The Five refuse to intervene in our world's wars.” Divad walked to the window overlooking the rocking chair, gripped the decrepit back. “They watch as we rape and murder and torture each other. They let it happen.”

Divad rocked the chair without looking at it, voice low. “They let it happen to my wife. I prayed to the Five harder than I've prayed for anything, but that did not stop those men from cutting my Paula apart.”

With his back turned, Jyllith felt free to examine the glyphs on the scroll. The curvy, spiky lines itched at the inside of her mind. She could almost feel Hecata looming over her, demanding she understand.

“The Mavoureen will stop all that,” Divad said. “I know how they rule, and they tolerate no war or torture.”

“At least none they don't inflict themselves,” Jyllith said.

“As I said, only to those who deserve it.”

“What you're suggesting, then, is we trade our freedom for safety.” Jyllith could swear the strange glyphs
moved
. “You really think that's right?”

“I know it is.” The floor creaked and Jyllith's eyes snapped to Divad. “Anything is better than what I saw the night those Mynt soldiers butchered my wife. Humans have proven, over and over, that free will is a mistake.”

Jyllith had not seen her own family butchered. She had hidden in a cabinet, hearing the sounds, and had only seen the aftermath. How much worse would it have been if Cantrall had made her watch?

“I don't care how peace comes to us,” Divad said, “so long as it comes. That's why I need you to help me. That is why you’re here.”

“Then tell me this.” Jyllith held his gaze. “We've only just met. Why not ask the others? You’ve known all them for years.”

“The others, brave as they are, do not understand sacrifice as we do. They have never put others before themselves.” Divad shuddered. “These glyphs come at great cost. The mages who scribe them become Paymon's playthings. After we open that gate he'll tear our souls apart.”

Jyllith knew there was more to it. “What about the people here? What will happen to them when Paymon comes?”

“He'll treat them fairly.”

“You can't really believe that. He's going to murder them all, or worse, do to them what he'll do to us.”

“He won't. I have his word.”

“His word isn't worth the breath he said it with!”

“You must trust me. I have planned this for a very long time. I know what I'm doing.”

Divad's tale about his wife and daughter tugged at Jyllith. She had to turn him away from this, bring him to his senses. She had to try.

“I know you're willing to risk yourself, and I'd gladly take that risk with you. But how can we risk this village's people? Their children? If we demand their sacrifice and torture, how are we better than the Mynt?”

“And what if Paymon does take this village?” Divad asked. “Won't hundreds of other villages be saved? Isn't sacrificing a few hundred people to save hundreds of thousands a worthwhile risk? Or did you and Cantrall have some other reason for slaughtering Taven's Hamlet?”

“What we do,” Cantrall told Jyllith, “we do to save our world. The safety of its people is more important than any one person, including you or I.”

Jyllith stared at Cantrall's kind, wise face through her tears. In the distance, the people of Taven's Hamlet screamed. Revenants were cutting them down and Jyllith could not stop thinking about her family, how Talos had been torn apart. Was another little girl crying over her dead mother right now? Begging her to wake up?

“Tell me you understand,” Cantrall said.

Jyllith blocked out the cacophony of revenants putting men, women, and children to the sword. She blocked out her memories of shaking her mother's corpse. “I do.”

Jyllith understood the horror those families endured, and still she let this happen. Had she grown so callous in her years with Cantrall? If that was true, why did every last one of those screams rip her apart?

Divad watched her, and Jyllith knew he was a moment away from ordering Spike to tear her apart. He had revealed everything. Nothing would satisfy him now but unconditional acceptance.

“Tell me you understand,” Cantrall begged.

Jyllith took a shuddering breath. “I understand.” Her spiteful demon stirred in her head. “We can't let these wars continue. If it's the only way...”

“It is.” Divad shuddered with relief. “Everyone in Knoll Point will be safe. Our new masters will never harm them.”

“Then I'll help you do this.” Divad remained committed, and that meant Jyllith
would
murder him. “What about the others?”

“They may not know everything we now plan,” Divad said, “but they'll be ready when it’s time. Don't worry about them.”

“I need time to think. I need to clear my head.” She needed to plot.

“I understand.” Divad stepped past her and opened the door. “Five days from now, at dawn, we open the portal.”

“Thank you for trusting me with this.” Jyllith stepped into the hall and found Spike waiting, single eye narrowed at her. “I won't disappoint you.”

“We’ll save the world together, Jyllith,” Cantrall said. “We’ll ensure no one ever suffers like your family again.”

Jyllith strode past Divad's davenger and down the stairs. Divad was lost to her. There was only one person in this entire town she could trust, one person who would refuse to let Divad sacrifice Knoll Point. She had five days to convince Andar she was telling the truth.

Five days to convince him not to kill her.

ARYN’S NERVOUS STOMACH CHURNED. The sun had risen and Tania was late. He watched Xander pace back and forth in front of the
Gentleman's Haunt
, Honest Jack's modest tavern. It catered to off-duty legionnaires and militia.

The fact that Aryn could even
see
the sun still thrilled him. The way its light played across the wooden slats of the tavern seemed so clear. Tania had shown him many amazing things last night, but the clarity with which he now saw the world was the most impressive.

His dream world sight was now far more detailed than jagged lines. Those lines still existed — this sight was built upon the dream world — but the space between the lines held detail now, like a drawing made from colored chalk. More than Aryn thought to ever see again.

The living were the strangest things in his new sight. Aryn saw now what waited inside them, not the skin the wore. Orange impressions of their true selves. As Tania had once said, Aryn saw their souls.

Xander's soul was particularly jagged today. Tania said that the way a soul looked in this enhanced dream world reflected how the person saw themselves, and when someone felt strong emotion, it distorted their soul — that self image — like a pebble in a calm pond.

Xander's soul quivered and spiked, ripples of distortion traveling down his body in waves, and the most curious thing about his self image was that it lacked a beard. Was that a reminder of his younger years? Did Xander still think of himself as clean-shaven?

The most wonderful discovery about Aryn's new sight was that he finally saw Tania's face, at least as she saw herself. Her face was soft, round, and entirely unlike the painted and pinched faces of noble women. She had a small nose, full cheeks, and full lips that made all sorts of amused smirks. Just thinking of her made Aryn smile.

Aryn toyed with the weight of his new quarterstaff, garrison surplus Honest Jack had brought after Tania showed Aryn how to see. His bargain was already paying dividends. It felt good to hold a staff again, even if this one was not weighted like the staff Davazet had snapped in half.

As the sun rose the sparsely populated street filled with traders, beggars, and messengers hurrying to and from the royal complex. Xander paced, heedless of those his large, scowling form drove aside, and Aryn knew there was no point in asking him to stop. If Ona could not calm Xander down, Aryn stood little chance.

Xander was certainly frustrated by Tania's absence and worried for his daughter. Aryn worried too, but mainly about Tania. Where was she? They had fallen asleep, back-to-back, in Honest Jack's basement. When he woke in the night, she was gone and he was cold.

Honest Jack had rapped loudly at first light, probably because Tania had instructed him to do so. Aryn had emerged from the cellar, bleary eyed, to find the smiling barkeep holding out a plate of sliced cheese and fruit.

“At your service, my boy,” the man said, but he was likely already considering his favor.

Aryn had downed the food and stepped outside to find Xander pacing, Ona waiting, and no Tania in sight. It had been like that since.

“It's been too long,” Ona said.

“Just trust her.” Aryn marveled at how steady Ona's self image remained. “Tania's on our side. She'll be here.” Ona's soul remained as still as a quiet lake.

“You understand trusting is difficult for my husband. One of Tania's order tried to murder him. Most consider that impolite.”

“Tania would never betray us.” They had been through too much, together. “I don't know what happened with Valar, Anylus, or Xander, but I know Tania. She'll get us to Kara. You have my word.”

The street was emptying out. It was almost empty now, and Aryn only then realized what that meant. Someone had closed off the street. He stood and hissed at Xander, but Kara's father paid no notice.

Armor clanked and men shouted orders. Legionnaires stomped out, filling both ends of the narrow parkway. They marched forward with shields locked and spears raised.

Xander raised hands and scribed glyphs. Aryn could not let this escalate because no matter who won, Kara would lose. He sprinted into the street and grabbed Xander's wrists, mussing his glyphs.

“Stop!” Aryn shouted. “We can't fight them!”

Xander shoved Aryn with enough force to knock him down. “Your little demon hunter betrayed us.” He beckoned for Ona as his hands burst into flame, massive fireballs ready to blast legionnaires apart. “To me!”

A ball of ice dropped from open sky and melted around Xander's hands. Aryn knew then a Lifewarden hid nearby, a mage who wielded water like a weapon. Aryn slammed his quarterstaff against the back of Xander's head.

Xander dropped, groaning in the street. Ona glared and that only made Aryn’s guilt worse. Her once calm soul form trembled like Xander's now, and why wouldn't it? So far as Ona knew, Aryn had betrayed them both.