The Iron Ghost (50 page)

‘I doubt that you do,’ said Dallen, with a raised eyebrow. His fingers brushed the bear’s tooth that hung at his neck. ‘To him I am no longer his son, Sebastian. He would likely kill me on sight.’

‘Even your father wouldn’t want a demon-worshipping murderer as a neighbour, I’m sure of it.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Particularly a warmling one.’

Dallen ignored his attempt to lighten the mood.

‘I still think you would stand a better chance of succeeding if I were there. The more weapons the better, surely?’

Sebastian reached out and put his hand on Dallen’s arm, the solid shape of his muscles clear through the thin cloth of his sleeves.

‘I won’t lie to you, Dallen. Whether this succeeds or not is largely down to luck. Another sword arm will not help us. And it would put you in danger.’

Dallen did smile at that, although his eyes were still cold.

‘Is it the place of a warmling to tell Narhl royalty when they should or shouldn’t risk their lives?’

‘I – no. Dallen, I know we haven’t known each other very long,’ Sebastian felt his cheeks grow warm, and he glanced back to the fire to make sure the others were still sleeping, ‘but I care about you. I want you. I . . .’ He shook his head. ‘It has been a long time for me, and in the past I have failed to protect those I loved. I won’t fail that way again.’

Dallen stepped fully into the circle of his arms and kissed him, softly at first and then with a growing heat. Sebastian pulled the prince closer, wondering at the icy touch of his fingers as they pressed at his neck, remembering the night they had spent alone outside the cave. All at once it was very difficult to remain standing with any dignity, and he pulled away slightly.

Dallen glared up at him.

‘Go, then,’ he said eventually. ‘Take this with you, though.’ He pulled the cord from around his neck and passed it to Sebastian. Up close the bear tooth was carved with a series of interlocking wyverns. His fingers, when he touched Sebastian’s, were icy cold, and with a shiver he recalled his skin in the darkness, smooth and unyielding as stone. ‘It is the token of a prince, in our lands.’ He tipped his head to one side, not quite a nod. ‘If you show that to my people, they may listen to you.’

Sebastian took the cord and slipped it around his own neck, trying not to think of Crowleo and the blue glass globe he’d given him.

‘I will come back,’ he said.

‘See that you do.’ Dallen took a slow breath. There were beads of sweat on his forehead. ‘I will hold you to your oath, Sir Sebastian.’

‘And what should I do?’

It was still dark, with only the faintest band of indigo to the east promising an end to the night. They were as ready as they were going to be, but Nuava was taking some convincing.

‘You look after Mendrick,’ said Wydrin. She had already drawn her weapons, Frostling and Glassheart held loosely in either hand. Frith stood next to her, his hood drawn up to cast his face in shadow. They had all pretended not to notice how difficult it was for him to simply climb to his feet. ‘And keep an eye on our good prince here too.’

Dallen, standing away from the embers of their fire, smiled faintly.

‘This is our best plan, Nuava,’ said Sebastian. He tried to sound more confident than he felt, but the girl just looked at him with wide eyes. She was standing with one arm looped around the werken’s stone neck, as if she could gain strength from his solid shape. ‘You and Dallen should move deeper into the forest, further away from the city, where you can’t be seen. We don’t know exactly what will happen, but if it can be done, we will kill Joah Demonsworn. And we must do it before he kills more of your people.’

‘He will not stop,’ agreed Frith. His voice was a whisper in the dark. ‘He has no care for anything save the accumulation and control of power.’

‘Wait, and watch,’ said Wydrin. ‘It’ll be over soon, one way or another.’

Nuava nodded reluctantly.

‘Let’s do it,’ said Frith, ‘before I fall over.’

Sebastian stepped back and linked an arm through Frith’s, while Wydrin took the other. He made sure to catch Dallen’s eye again, although he found he had nothing to say.

‘When you’re ready, princeling,’ said Wydrin. ‘Let’s go end this bastard.’

Frith tensed, and the darkness of the forest around them began to swirl and twist. There was a terrible wrenching sensation, and, next to him, Sebastian was sure that he would be dashed to the ground, and then the night sky was gone, replaced by a metal ceiling studded with baleful red lights. They were in a large circular room dominated by what looked like a glass tank in an iron wall, and all around them were scattered work tables and benches; just in front of one stood Joah Demonsworn, one side of his face red and glistening, while Ip, grubby faced and short of hair, sat on the table next to him.

There was a beat of silence, during which Sebastian caught Frith’s agonised gasp as the magic exacted its toll, and then all hell broke loose.

Wydrin leapt forward, diving straight for Joah with her sword extended in a killing blow – it drew his eyes to her, and Sebastian took the chance to head to the other side of the mage, drawing the god-blade up and to one side.

A single blow,
he thought,
and it’s over.

The demon was screaming, the face of Ip twisted into something inhuman, and with a blink Joah seemed to come back to himself. Immediately a wave of invisible force flew at them across the small room, flinging Wydrin back into one of the long tables, while Sebastian staggered back a few paces.

‘Kill them!’ screamed Bezcavar through Ip’s throat. ‘Do it now!’

A fireball surged across Sebastian’s field of vision, exploding just next to where Ip crouched, and he glanced back to see Frith, leaning heavily against the wall with one hand held shakily out in front of him. Sebastian pushed himself forward again, bringing the god-blade around for a second attempt. It sang in his hands, and he could hear a faint whine as it cut through the air, but before he could even get close to Joah, he saw the indigo blade turn suddenly white, and his fingers were a frost-bitten agony. He cried out, trying to drop the sword, but it was frozen into his hands, a thick layer of ice dulling its wicked edge.

‘Quickly,’ cried the demon, ‘kill the knight first! Crush his bones! In my name, Joah! In my name.’

Joah turned towards him, his brown eyes still faintly puzzled – one side of his face was a bloody ruin – and it was as if a huge hand wrapped around Sebastian’s chest and began to squeeze. The sensation moved up his body, ethereal fingers closing around his throat.

‘That’s it!’ Ip was crowing, actually dancing from foot to foot. ‘I want to see the blood run from his eyes, my sweet, I want to—’

‘Wait!’

Wydrin had climbed on top of one of the tables. She had sheathed both her weapons, and was holding out her empty hands, palms out. For a brief moment there was stillness in the room as everyone turned to look at her. Sebastian felt the last of his breath whistling in his throat.

‘Wait,’ she said again, ‘Demon, I have a proposition for you. Stop throttling my friend, and I promise I will make it worth your while.’

‘You think I could want anything more than to see Sebastian Carverson, oath breaker, die with his own blood on his lips?’ answered Bezcavar, but the girl gestured to Joah and abruptly the crushing pain in Sebastian’s chest and throat vanished. He gasped awkwardly and half collapsed onto the floor.

‘I know exactly what you want, demon,’ said Wydrin. ‘And I’m going to give it to you.’

‘Wydrin,’ Frith’s voice was barely there, and Sebastian could see that the young lord was now kneeling on the floor, his strength completely gone. ‘Wydrin, what are you doing?’

‘See, I know something about you, demon.’ Wydrin walked along the table and idly pushed a bottle off the edge with her boot. It hit the metal floor with a tinkling crash. ‘About this whole deal you have here. Your host has to be willing. Am I right?’

‘No,’ said Sebastian. His throat was an agony but he forced the words out anyway, because he could see where this was going. ‘Wydrin, listen to me.’

‘Your host has to be willing, and young Ip was. What else did she have to live for? They were going to sacrifice her at that temple eventually anyway. But she’s just a human child, and it will take years before she’s the sort of host you can really have fun with.’ Wydrin paused, and scratched her nose. ‘I can see from the bruises on your face, Bezcavar, that you haven’t been having much fun lately.’

‘Get to the point, whore creature,’ snapped Bezcavar.

Wydrin stopped, looking steadily at the girl and ignoring the rest of them.

‘Let Sebastian go and heal Frith of his sickness. Restore him fully, and I will be your willing host.’

Sebastian shoved himself to his feet, still trying to pry his fingers away from the frozen sword.

‘I’m older than Ip by quite a bit,’ continued Wydrin, ‘but I’m not so old. I’m young, and strong, and I have all the skills of a fighter raised in Crosshaven. And it’s been said I don’t scrub up so bad, given enough patience and soap.’

Ip turned to Joah.

‘What do you think?’

Joah Demonsworn looked at Ip, and Sebastian saw so much in that look: desperation, loneliness. Hope. With a new host for the demon, and Frith restored, the mage would have everything he could want, however warped that might be. Joah nodded his head the tiniest fraction and Sebastian knew that it was already too late.

‘Wydrin, no!’ he bellowed. Frith was trying to get to his feet, trying to do something – the hood had fallen back and the look of horror on his ravaged face was stark.

Ip shrugged, one narrow shoulder rising and falling. ‘It is done.’

Frith cried out as he was suddenly enveloped in a glowing, ruby red mist. Wydrin drew Frostling again.

‘Demon, if you look to double-cross me—’

‘Stop whining, human,’ Bezcavar flapped one slim hand impatiently. ‘I am doing as you asked.’

The red mist faded back into nothing, and Frith stood up, looking mildly stunned. His skin was back to its more usual warm brown, and the dark circles were gone from his eyes. He was standing up straight again, and even the emaciated cast had vanished from his wiry form – he looked as well as Sebastian had ever seen him, even after the healing waters of the Mages’ lake.

‘How are you feeling, princeling?’

Frith shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Wydrin, of all the ridiculous, foolish things you’ve ever done—’

‘That sounds more like it.’ Wydrin beckoned to the demon. ‘Come on, then, shorty, a deal’s a deal.’

It happened so quickly that later Sebastian would examine his memories over and over, sure he must have missed something. The child Ip dropped to the floor in an ungainly heap, and Wydrin rocked backwards, nearly falling off the table. Joah, who still looked somewhat lost, glanced between the two of them uncertainly.

‘Wydrin?’ Frith’s voice was stronger now, and filled with dread. ‘What have you done?’

There were a few beats of silence. Sebastian found that he could not take his eyes from Wydrin. She was shaking her head like a dog with a wasp in its mouth, and then abruptly she stopped and grinned. Her eyes were filled with blood.

‘Now this is much better,’ she said, and her voice wasn’t her voice at all.

‘Demon,’ Sebastian edged forward, the god-blade held out in front of him. ‘You will vacate that body at once.’

Frith stared at the woman on the table. Save for the eyes it still looked like Wydrin, but there was a subtle difference in the way she was standing, an uprightness that felt a million miles away from her usual poised swagger.

‘What are you going to do, good sir knight?’ said Bezcavar with Wydrin’s mouth. ‘Run your friend through? Cut off her head? I don’t really see you doing that.’

‘It was a mistake,’ said Sebastian. He was speaking through gritted teeth. ‘She didn’t mean it. Take it back.’

‘Oh, but she did. It’s fascinating really, but she’s rather fond of both of you.’ Wydrin frowned ponderously, an expression Frith had never seen her pull before. ‘I can tell, you know, when someone is truly willing. All part of being a demon. Now that I’m in here, in her head, it’s darker than I was expecting. All the things she never said. Especially to you.’ The demon turned Wydrin’s head so that the blood-filled eyes were gazing directly at Frith. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you’ve done to inspire such loyalty.’

‘Wydrin.’ There was a rushing sensation in Frith’s chest. ‘Wydrin, are you still in there?’

‘Oh, she’s still here, but I have her firmly under control. I know better than to let this one . . . to let this one . . . out . . . I . . .’

The demon shook its head again, frowning fiercely, and for the briefest second the eyes flickered back to their more usual green. Wydrin staggered as though she’d been struck in the stomach.

‘Stop that,’ came Bezcavar’s voice again, although now there was a note of panic.

‘Wydrin!’ Frith tried to meet her eyes. ‘Wydrin, I know you can hear me. You have to fight it!’

‘Come back to us, Wyd,’ Sebastian reached out a hand to her, ‘you’re stronger than it.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong!’ Wydrin grinned, her eyes bloody again. ‘I am not some cloak to be shrugged back off again, and I—’ She screamed suddenly, a howl of frustration and pain. She staggered back and half jumped, half fell off the table, landing at the bottom of the steps leading up to the Rivener aperture. She glanced up at them, and her eyes were green again.

‘Get out of here, you idiots,’ she said, before running up the rest of the steps and jumping down into the Rivening chamber. She hit the floor in there, writhing in the violet light as though she’d fallen into a pit of snakes.

‘No!’

Frith ran, meaning to smash the glass open and drag her out, but the light of the Rivener shimmered, and he saw her eyes roll up to the whites as something wraith-like and barely visible streamed from her body. He had time to see her shiver convulsively, once, and then the floor below her opened, dropping her body out of sight.

For the briefest second, Frith found he could hardly breathe, and then he felt the Edenier blossom in his chest – a pure, white light, a power he’d never even guessed at before. It was as if he were the taper, and he was ready to burn the entire world.