The Elves of Cintra (54 page)

It wasn’t enough. The demon came at her so quickly that she barely had time to react. Fire lanced from her staff, burning into the creature, breaking through skin and scales and flesh and perhaps even bone. But it didn’t stop it. Ignoring her efforts to keep it at bay, it slammed into Angel, knocking her backward across the ice, knocking the wind from her lungs. Claws ripped and tore. Heavy limbs pounded. She felt streaks of fiery pain race up and down her body. She felt ribs snap. She felt her right arm go numb and her left leg collapse. She felt her joints loosen and her head spin. For a second, she thought she was going to break apart.

But she held on. She might have been finished then and there, but the demon had come at her so hard that its momentum carried it past her once again, across the frozen surface of the snow and into the rocks out of which it had come. It screamed and hissed as it flew past, claws digging at the ice, fighting to gain purchase, failing to do so. Angel saw it for only seconds, a dark shadowy nightmare, and she whipped her staff at its head and chased after it with her magic’s fire. Slowly, she staggered back to her feet, leaning heavily on the staff. The entire right side of her body was a mass of blood. She could barely keep herself upright. She pulled the all-weather cloak from her back and wrapped it around her injured arm, trying to cushion it against further damage. She couldn’t tell, but the bones of her forearm might already be broken. She grimaced. If so, they were not the only ones.

She watched the demon emerge from the rocks once more, slouching out of the shadows. It looked worse than she did, but it was still coming. She shook her head, despairing. She did not know what it would take to stop it, but she did not think it was anything she possessed.

The feeders, she thought darkly, massing all about them, were anticipating that they would feast on both.

The demon charged her again, not so quickly this time, its stamina sapped and its strength depleted. Even so, she could not get out of its way. She used the fire on its face, and as it slammed into her she shoved her bad arm, still wrapped in her cloak, and the length of her staff between its jaws to try to block away its teeth. Then, as fresh pain ratcheted through her, she did the one thing she had always known she must never do. She let go of her staff and with her hands freed, she ripped at the demon’s face with the serrated palms of her needle gloves.

A second time, she got lucky. One of the gloves caught the demon just above its good eye and tore downward across its face.

The cat thing shrieked in pain and rage, the entire half of its face turned into a red smear. As she struggled to break free of it, claws tore at her, opening fresh wounds. Angel ignored them, regaining her grip on her staff, calling up its magic the moment her fingers closed about its length. She thrust the demon away, watching it thrash in a blind frenzy as it slid backward. Still collapsed on her belly, she used her pain and rage to fuel the Word’s magic and sent it tearing into her adversary.

She screamed at it as she did so, in that instant little more than an animal herself.

The magic struck the demon with a fury that transcended anything of which Angel had thought herself capable. It exploded against the demon’s mangled head, bore into it and shattered it like glass. The head flew apart, gone in an instant. The body thrashed for long moments after, as if not yet aware that it was no longer whole, that it had nothing to guide it. Feeders descended on it, burying it in a mass of writhing shadows. It collapsed beneath them, shuddered once, and lay still.

Angel dropped to her knees, her staff gripped tightly in both hands, the fading magic of the Word’s fire licking at the smooth black ends like cat’s tongues. She stared at the demon’s corpse, not quite comprehending that it was lifeless. She waited for it to move. She waited for it to rise and come for her.

But the demon lay where it was, headless and lifeless. When the feeders began to drift away, Angel realized finally that it would not ever move again. She tried to lever herself up so that she could go to her friends. She had to find them and protect them. The other demon could have reached them by now and it would finish the job that this one started and the Loden would be lost and the Elves compromised and…

She struggled to rise but found that her legs would not work; her muscles were too weak. She could only get to her knees.

Then she could not even manage that, and she collapsed into blackness.

THIRTY-TWO

K
IRISIN STARED AT THE APPARITION
standing before him, trying to make himself accept that what he was seeing was real. “I thought you were dead!” he exclaimed in disbelief.

Old Culph chuckled. “Well, now, what led you to believe that, Kirisin?”

“Tragen found your body!”

“Is that what he told you?” Even in the near darkness, Kirisin could see his eyes twinkle. “Were you sad for me? Did you think the demons had found me out? Did you think they had caught and killed me?”

“We all did!” Kirisin declared, relief flooding through him. “After Ailie and Erisha were killed, we thought the demons had gotten you, too! We didn’t have time to do more than make a quick check; we had to flee Arborlon right away.”

The old man ambled forward a few steps, dropping the beam of his solar torch and nodding his understanding. “You were right to do so. No point in taking unnecessary chances. I certainly didn’t. I waited until it was safe to do so, and then I followed you. I tracked you all the way here, to these caves.” He looked around. “Impressive, aren’t they? An Elven safehold.” He looked back quickly. “Did you find it? Did you find the Loden Elfstone? Do you have it?”

Kirisin held out his hand, revealing the Stone cupped within his curled fingers. “Inside the dragon’s maw. Guarded by the magic of Pancea Rolt Gotrin, just as you thought it might be. You were right about everything. We couldn’t have done this without you.” He shook his head. “I still can’t believe you’re alive. How did you manage to get here on your own?”

Culph shrugged. “Well, I had help. And I know a few things about getting places. Flying hot-air balloons is a skill I mastered some time back, for example. Come out of there, and I’ll tell you everything. We can take as much time as we need.”

Kirisin walked toward him, treading lightly on the dragon’s icy tongue, stepping carefully over its rows of teeth and out into the cavern chamber once more. He had his solar torch back on—it was working again—but he kept the light lowered so as not to blind the old man. Culph, for his part, had set down his own torch, letting its beam flood the space that separated them in a wide arc.

“I still can’t believe you made it all this way,” Kirisin said. “Or even that you managed to find us.”

“As I said, I had help.” The old man smiled. Then abruptly, as the boy stepped into the circle of his torchlight, he held up his hand. “That’s close enough. Why don’t you just stand where you are while we talk?”

Kirisin stopped short, surprised at the change in the other’s tone of voice. Then he caught sight of something just behind Culph, a figure slumped on the ground. Simralin. He recognized her clothing and blond hair. She lay motionless, blood on her face.

“Stay where you are, Kirisin,” Culph ordered quietly, and now he didn’t sound anything at all like Culph. “Don’t give your sister another thought. She’s fine where she is.”

Kirisin stared at Simralin’s still form and then at the old man. “What’s going on? What happened to her?”

“She took a blow to the head. A rather hard blow, I’m afraid. She’s a strong young woman.”

Kirisin stood frozen in place, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. “Did you do this?”

Culph shrugged, and then nodded. “I had to. She was a distraction.”

“A distraction? What are you talking about?” Kirisin blinked. Then a cold realization swept through him. “You,” he said quietly. “You’re the…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word
demon.
“All this time.”

The old man nodded. “All this time.”

Kirisin’s heart sank. He gestured toward his sister. “Did you kill her?”

“Kill her? No, that would serve no useful purpose. I just made sure she wouldn’t interfere with us. I need her alive so that you don’t do anything foolish while we talk. You won’t, will you? Do anything foolish? You won’t make me really hurt her, will you?”

Kirisin glared at him. “You killed Erisha. And Ailie. And you tried to kill me. Why didn’t you? If you wanted to stop us from finding the Loden, why didn’t you just finish the job and kill me, too?”

The old man cocked his head quizzically. “What makes you think I wanted to stop you from finding the Loden? From finding any of the Elfstones, for that matter? Finding them is what I wanted you to do, right from the first time you told me the Ellcrys spoke to you.”

He rocked back on his heels. “It’s not so complicated, really. You and Erisha were searching for the Elfstones. If you found them, you would use them to save the Ellcrys. I thought it an excellent idea. So I researched the matter. I found the information I needed right away—not all of it, but most. I found some of it in the histories and some of it in the private notes and journals of the old families. As keeper of those records, I had access to all of it. I just didn’t tell anyone what I had found. I made certain no one else found any of it, either.”

“But you were helping us!”

“Just enough so that you would do what was needed, Kirisin. Never more. I gave you those bits and pieces to keep you looking. I didn’t know what had become of the seeking-Stones after Pancea Rolt Gotrin’s death. I knew they were buried with her, but not where she was buried. Some things were kept secret even from me. But you and your friends figured it out, and you got possession of them. I couldn’t have done that, not as a demon and not even as old Culph, keeper of the Elven histories. It needed the right person, a Chosen committed to saving the most precious of the Elven talismans.”

“But that could just as easily have been Erisha!” Kirisin was incensed. “Why did you kill her?”

The demon shrugged. “Killing her was a way to make you run, you and your sister and the Knight of the Word. I needed you to leave the Cintra and go off on your own where you could be dealt with more easily. And of course, I needed you to go looking for the Loden. In any case, Erisha was never the one who was meant to wield the Elfstones. Any fool could tell that she was too weak-minded to do what was needed. It was always you. You were the strong one. You were the one who was determined. Killing her was the perfect way to fuel that determination.”

He smiled, and that smile stung like salt on an open wound. “I have lived among the Elves as old Culph for a long time. Years. Before that, I was someone else. Before that, someone else again. But my disguise as Culph was the most useful of them all because it gave me access to everything crucial to understanding the history of the Elves. I could research their lore and discover their weaknesses. It was clear to all of us who serve the Void that at some point they would have to be dealt with. The question was when. And how it was to be done. They were a sizable nation, albeit less populous than humans. But still, a force with which to be reckoned. What was to be done with them when it was time to act? I watched and waited over the years, knowing the time was coming and the answers must be found. Old Culph, hardly more than a part of the King’s furniture, was never suspected.”

Having survived the first few minutes of the old man’s admission of who and what he was, Kirisin was beginning to look for a way out of this mess. He had no plan other than to keep Culph talking—keep the
demon
talking, he corrected himself bitterly, for
demon
was what the thing that masqueraded as Culph was. As long as he kept it talking, he had a chance to find a way to escape. It didn’t seem to be armed, didn’t seem to have any weapon at all. But it had managed to overcome Simralin, perhaps even to kill her. Kirisin hated himself for thinking it, but he didn’t know if he believed that his sister was still alive.

Bitterness welled up, so strong it made him want to throw caution aside and attack the thing standing in front of him. But he held himself in check—talking, talking, and all the while searching for a solution to his dilemma.

He had a sudden burst of inspired hope. He had forgotten about Angel! She was still out there and coming his way. Maybe she would reach him in time to help!

But then he remembered that the demon wouldn’t have come alone; it would have brought that thing with it. “Where is your…the other demon, the one that tracked Angel?”

The demon smiled. “Both are outside. Renewing an old rivalry, I believe. If it ends the way I expect it will, we won’t see either of them again.” It folded its bony arms across its chest. “As I told you before, I had help in this business. But I think any need for that sort of help is at an end.”

Kirisin’s mouth tightened. “Maybe things won’t work out the way you think. Maybe you’ll be sorry you ever used us like this.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” The demon made a dismissive gesture. “In any case, it won’t affect us. I made sure we wouldn’t be disturbed. This time belongs just to you and me, Kirisin. So let’s make the best use of it. You are owed an explanation, and you shall have it.” It paused. “Do you want to know about the King? Do you want to know why he was so determined to stop you?”

“I would guess it had something to do with you,” the boy answered. He was gripping the Loden so tightly that the sharp edges were cutting into his palm. He relaxed his grip and slipped the Elfstone into his pocket. “Did you tell the King something that frightened him?” he asked, still trying to gain time.

“Very good. I did exactly that. I told him that I had found evidence that the Loden was created to shield the Ellcrys—which, of course, is true. I also told him that the wielder of the Stone was at considerable risk from the magic if it was invoked. I told him the lore revealed that the user of the Loden was bound to the magic, and the binding was almost always fatal. The Stone sapped the user’s lifeblood. Once summoned, the magic claimed the user’s life as its own. I convinced him that his daughter would die as a result. He was desperate for an alternative, but I told him there wasn’t any. The Ellcrys had made her choice, and the first summoned was the Chosen who must respond. His only option, I explained, was to let her complete her term as Chosen and force the tree to choose another. A Chosen no longer in service would not be acceptable. I convinced him that the tree was in no immediate danger and he could afford to wait. He was eager to believe this. He would have done almost anything to save his daughter.”