The Black Shriving (Chronicles of the Black Gate Book 2) (37 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY

Kethe raced after Asho, sword in hand, wanting to scream in frustration and fury. What was wrong with him? She followed him through a massive archway and then stumbled to a stop beside him, wanting to hunch over, sucking in such a stream of power from the young Bythian that she saw spots dancing before her eyes. Instead, she gritted her teeth and dug deep for the strength to focus on the room, to take it in, to make sense of those words that had tolled like a bell. But it was hard. Things at the corners of her vision kept distorting, spinning and stretching away and turning her stomach. She wiped the back of her wrist across her eyes and then shook her head, trying to clear it.

She succeeded enough to see that they were standing on the uppermost of a set of broad steps that fanned down into the room below. Down there, a severe man with silver hair was sitting in a throne made of lead, high-backed and sharp-angled, its uppermost section wrought in the shape of an unreadable rune. At first glance the man seemed normal if dour, with a slit of a mouth and deeply sunken eyes, his receding iron-colored hair shorn close to his scalp. He was wearing clothing so black she couldn't make out its cut, but there was something to him – a grievous presence that reminded her of Ser Haug, her father's most loyal Black Knight and, when duty required it, his executioner. She shuddered. The way the man was gazing up at them made her want to take a step back, and he had yet to lift a finger.

"Who are you?" Asho stepped forward, his sword held out and to the side. His voice was strained, and Kethe seemed to hear it as if from a great distance.

The man on the throne lowered his chin to his chest and watched them from under his brows.

Her mouth still parched, she scanned the cavern but found no one else. Just the raw stone walls and the brilliant aurora flickering below the ceiling, oscillating through hues of sapphire and emerald.

Ashurina landed beside Mæva, large enough that the witch could have ridden her if she desired. She was rumbling deep in her chest – growling, Kethe realized, staring fixedly at the man on the throne.

"Who are you?" Asho's cry was a challenge, and he took a second step down.

No,
thought Kethe.
We have to run.
She felt the walls pressing in on her. They had to flee, but she knew it was already too late.

The man on the throne rose to his feet, each motion exquisitely controlled. Kethe could
feel
him, as if his very presence was pushing against her soul. Cracks appeared across the man's face and body: fiery, slender crevices from whose depths rushed vermillion flame, sheeting up and around him, cocooning him in living fire.

Then Kethe blinked, and the fire was gone. The cracks were gone. The man stood as before, but she knew what she had seen. She tried to swallow and failed.

It has been too long since a Flame Walker graced my halls.
The man's voice resonated in her mind and left her feeling polluted.
And you bring with you an Alabaster of rare power. I am pleased.

Mæva hissed. "Run! Asho, Kethe - this is our death - run!"

No one will leave without my permission,
said the man.
And when I am done, you will never desire to leave my side again.

Asho spun his blade in a series of arcs before him as he took another step down. The air had thickened so that Kethe felt as if everything were underwater. She inhaled deeply, gulping at the syrupy air, and she could feel Asho drinking in more power. Sweat was running down her brow. It was too much. She couldn't handle it; it was far too much -

No
.

She forced herself to stand straight. No matter that she felt like she was running a killing fever. She would not hang back, would not let Asho face this thing alone. Sword in hand, she stepped down beside him.

Sweat was running down his pallid skin, dripping off the point of his chin. His pale hair was wet and matted to his scalp. He was burning up too.

"What are you?" His voice, however, was calm. Stern. Demanding.

I am the master of this realm.
The man spread his arms and stepped off his throne's dais.
I am the lord and ruler of this perforation, the adjucator and overlord of this breach. It is mine, as are all who come through it.

Kethe heard Mæva hissing to Ashurina, something akin to threats and pleas. "You're a demon, then," she said, trying to keep her voice as calm as Asho's. "Nothing more."

The man smiled.
That I am. Do you know what I did with the last Alabaster who came down into these depths to challenge me?

Had he grown taller? Broader at the shoulder?

I bolted her to the wall. Drove spikes through wrist, pelvis, and knees. Then I mated with her. Poured my essence into her soul so that she could heal every wound I dealt. Over. And over. And over again. She was strong, but of course, not strong enough. Her mind broke. I think she still lives somewhere in these halls. You might meet her. You might be like her when you do.

"Asho," whispered Kethe, tears coming to her eyes.

It wasn't the threat, the words. It was the sheer wrongness of the air, how it cloyed at her throat. She had never been more aware of her spirit, of her soul, the intangible part of her that was uniquely Kethe, and how much danger it was in now.

Asho inhaled deeply. "Enough." He pointed his blade at the demon. "Enough."

The man again spread his arms.
Here I am, Flame Walker. Come at me.

Asho screamed and leaped.

Kethe's knees buckled, but she caught herself, then charged down the steps after him, screaming at the top of her lungs. Asho sailed through the air, sword raised in both hands, rising almost into the aurora's light before descending upon the man, who extended his hand up to Asho, utterly and lethally calm.

Shadows whipped into a frenzy, exploded out from behind the demon in a seething cloak of nightmare, then enveloped him, hid him from sight, devoured him, and he was gone.

Asho smashed down where the demon had been standing, his blade ringing loudly as he struck the throne. Kethe stumbled down the last few steps, turning, searching the cavern's corners, and immediately spotted the demon floating high in the air, waves of fire undulating from behind him, forming a curtain of flame that hid the cavern wall and mesmerized the eye.

The direct approach. I am circuitous. Earn your keep.

The man uttered a harsh, nonsensical word, and moans filled the air. Kethe whipped around in a circle. Dozens of shadow corpses were crawling down the walls like flies, their skulls almost luminous in comparison to their writhing, shadow-shrouded bones. Kethe backed up to where Asho was standing as the shadow corpses reached the cavern floor and flowed toward them without pause, rising to their feet, tails whipping behind them, hooked claws extended in a manner akin to pleading.

"Asho!" Mæva's cry cut through the demons' moans. "Take Ashurina! It's your last chance! You cannot survive this alone!"

"You ready?" Asho's voice was tight.

"No." Kethe slowly turned, blade held in both hands. "You?"

"No." There was a smile in his voice, however, and Kethe could feel the manic despair that he was riding. "I guess you were right. We're both going to die."

Tears flooded her eyes. She wiped them away angrily. "No." The demons were skittering ever closer, the sound of their moans mounting. "You were right. And I'm sorry - you
are
a true knight." She felt foolish, almost pathetic, but the sudden gleam in Asho's eye gave her a burst of strength.

Then the shadow corpses were upon them.

Hooked claws scythed toward their faces, skulls leered, shadows writhed.

Kethe stopped thinking. She let her terror flow into her limbs, let it become fury. She felt that impossible rush build within her, the sensation of being an incarnation of war, of being impossible to defeat, to stop, to even touch.

The demons didn't have a chance. Her sword flickered like silver lighting amongst them, and each hit did more than just slice them; it drained them of their essence, sucked shadows away and left them bleached and gray. She ducked, spun, threw herself into a forward roll, came up swinging.

Wave after wave of taint came from Asho. If anything, it was that buffeting that proved her greatest challenge; her focus would slip and her gorge would rise, then she would inhale sharply and regain control of her senses.

A line of fire scored across her thigh. The demons were an ocean around them, their number growing even as they were cut down. Her fury grew pitched. She shattered a skull with a horizontal strike, reversed her blade and plunged it behind her, wrenched it free and fell forward into a tight roll, lashing out on both sides to sever legs. A blow caught her shoulder, hooked under her armor and tore it free. She came up and took a blow across the chin. Her vision blanked out and she spun, fell heavily on the floor, rolled, swiped, screamed, came up swinging.

Asho leaped high into the air, spinning as he went, blade trailing shadow as he tore the demons apart. He fell back into the crowd and was lost from sight. Kethe heard Mæva screaming defiance, felt flashes of magic coming from the witch in great scything blasts. She hadn't abandoned them. The witch had chosen to stand and fight.

Kethe blocked a swiping claw, cutting it off in the process. Her blade was everywhere, but that was still not enough. The shadow corpses cared nothing for their wellbeing, made no attempt to block her blows, simply crowded in, swinging those wicked hooks in an attempt to dismember her. More were coming down the walls, dozens and dozens more. There was no end to them.

Her breath burned in her throat, her vision swam, and still she fought on, cursing them in every way she could till she couldn't spare the breath.

She heard Asho roar, and then black fire washed out over the massed ranks. The recoil from the taint slammed into her like a warhammer to the back of the head. She fell to her knees and dropped her sword, and blood splattered onto the ground beneath her. Her blood. Her head rang.
Get up, get up
. But she couldn't move. She heaved for breath, but it wouldn't come. She wanted to collapse. Instead, she let loose a dull moan, the only sound her frozen lungs could make, and lurched up. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. She couldn't see her blade.

Instead, she saw Asho. He too was heaving for breath as well, his armor torn and ruined, his face bloodied. He'd cleared a space around them and the shadow corpses were hanging back now.

Kethe's heart sank. There were hundreds of them, a wicked sea of skulls and ribs and spines encased in black tar and hissing shadow. The floor around them was littered with bleached bones from their discarded hosts.

Suddenly, her lungs unlocked, and she sucked in a deep, gasping breath. As Asho staggered over to her, she looked around for her blade, then felt her gaze being pulled up to the demon. He was still hanging in the air far above them, and she saw now that the sheets of flame that were rolling out from behind him were shaped like vast and glorious wings. He exuded power. Gone was his black clothing; he hung naked in the air before her, his ashen body without an ounce of fat, each muscle clearly delineated, his veins prominent like earthworms, his hands distended into claws.

But it was his eyes that drew her attention. They had disappeared altogether, and in their place were twin holes that seemed to lead to a different place, a glimpse into a canyon of flame that could never be contained within his skull. He smiled, and she shrank against Asho. The thought of being left alone with him made her soul quail. She'd die before she let herself be captured.

Impressive.
He sounded amused.
Raw power without finesse or control. I am surprised you have lived this long. Let us give you a challenge.

The demon extended both hands toward the Black Gate. He began to gesture and chant, speaking in a language that felt like nails being hammered into her skull. The black prism began to throb, ripples emanating out from its center.

"Asho," said Kethe.

"I know," he said. "Get your sword."

She crouched and nearly fell over. The air was sickly with magic. She was drowning.

Asho helped her stand. "Follow me," he said. "Come!"