The Hammer and the Blade (38 page)

  Nix eyed the partially engorged member dangling between the trunks of the creature's legs.

  "Been a while for you, yeah? Gonna be a bit of a wait yet, fakker."

  The devil tensed and roared, his exhalation the stink of a charnel house. The eyes in both arms fixed on Nix and it charged, his tread shaking the floor.

  While backpedaling, Nix drew and threw his throwing daggers at the brute's torso, but the creature's hide turned them as well as plate armor. Nix pulled his hand axe as the creature lurched toward him. An arm lashed at him, toothy maw snapping, but he ducked under it, hacked at the arm with his axe. The axe's edge rang off the devil's hide, sending a shock up Nix's arm. He lunged forward and stabbed with his falchion but it, too, bounced off the creature's hide. He lurched backward as the devil tried to stomp him with one of the tree trunks of his legs. The impact vibrated the floor, caused Nix to stumble. The devil lumbered after him, his huge bulk pushing him back toward the edge of the room, which overlooked a fall down the escarpment.

  Egil roared and charged from the side, hammers held high. The devil whirled to face him, so Nix planted his feet and hurled his axe at the creature's mouth but missed. He cursed and took his falchion in both hands for better leverage.

  Egil sidestepped a crushing blow of one of the devil's arms, spun, and smashed both hammers down simultaneously on the appendage. Scales gave way with a wet crunch and the devil shrieked with pain. His wounded arm spasmed with agony. Egil whirled to parry a blow from the other arm but too slow. The thick serpent of the creature's arm hit Egil squarely in the chest and sent him flying backward across the room. He landed on his back near Rusilla and Merelda.

  "Shite," Nix said, and a backhand lash from the devil's arm snatched at him, caught him by the wrist, and jerked him toward the creature's chest maw. Panicked, Nix twisted and pulled, nearly dislocating his shoulder, but finally pulling himself free. The fanged mouth from the other arm lunged for him. He dodged it but the move sent him careening backward off balance. The devil plodded after him, an arm swinging crosswise for his head. Nix managed an overhand, two-handed strike with his falchion, chopped with all his strength. He grinned when he felt the blade bite into flesh. Black blood spurted from the squirming arm. The devil howled in rage, withdrew the arm, but advanced on him, his bulk inexorably driving him backward, his arms a nest of toothy snakes, snapping and biting.

  Nix retreated, waving his blade defensively, as a sphincter of teeth snapped closed a finger's width from his nose. He grabbed a dagger from his belt and flicked it underhand at the devil, but the creature's scales turned its point. He was running out of both options and room to maneuver.

  "Egil!" he shouted. "Get up!"

  Nix stumbled back from a swing of the devil's arm, but was too off balance to dodge the backswing. It hit him squarely in the back, drove the air from his lungs, and sent him careening into a wall, abrading his face. He ducked as one of the fanged sphincters lunged at his face and instead took a bite of the wall, removing a divot of plaster and wood. Nix spun into a crosscut, hoping to disembowel the devil, but his boots clung to the floor, slowing his movement. The devil lurched backward, arms waving menacingly.

  Nix cursed. He must have stepped in something sticky. He tried to maneuver, found his feet even more fixed to the floor.

  "What in the Pits!"

  He tried to dodge a swing of the devil's arm, but his stride, clutched by the floor, slowed him and the blow caught him in the abdomen, doubled him over, and sent him flying across the floor.

  Coughing, gasping, he clambered to his feet. His boots stuck to the floor again, more strongly this time. He put his weight on one foot to lift the other and the first sank ankle deep into the floor. He cursed, tried to pull his boot free but no use. He might as well have been standing in hardening quicklime.

  "Egil!"

  The devil roared as it turned to face him. Nix looked over to see Rakon lying on his belly, one hand caressing the floor, the other cupping his mouth, as if he were uttering secrets to the wood, and Nix supposed he was.

  "Egil!" Nix said. "I'm stuck! The sorcerer! Egil!"

  The priest sat up, his eyes bleary. He took in the situation at a glance.

  The devil lumbered for Nix, hissing, great mouth snapping, his arms a swarm of toothy snakes. The enspelled wood held Nix fast, his boots sunk into the floor almost to the ankle.

  "Egil!"

  Nix took his falchion in two hands, readied himself.

  The priest hurled his hammers in rapid succession. One flew for Rakon with fearsome velocity, flipping head over haft, and slammed into the sorcerer's unprotected side. Whatever whispers Rakon had been making to the floor ended with broken ribs and a howl of pain. He curled up, gasping, coughing blood.

  The priest's second hammer hummed as it flew at Abrak-Thyss, striking the devil in the chest, in his open mouth, turning his roar into a shriek of pain as the weapon shattered a tooth. The enraged, pained devil bit the haft in two and spit head and handle to the floor, but the blow had done its work, halting the creature's charge at Nix.

  Nix pulled at his boots with his hands but even with Rakon disabled he could not get them free. His stream of expletives would have shamed a crew of seamen.

  Egil pulled his crowbar and held it in both hands, eyeing the devil.

  "This worked well on your sibling, darkspawn. Let's take its measure on you."

  The devil charged Egil and the priest answered in kind.

  Unable to dislodge his boots from the melted stone, Nix slit his boot laces with the dagger he kept in his boot and pulled his bare feet free. He looked up in time to see one of the devil's serpentine arms catch Egil on the run and send him spinning and cursing to the ground. Another arm darted in, serpentlike, the fanged mouth at its end biting for Egil's face, but the priest caught the arm in the vise of his grip and stopped it a few fingers' width from his face. The mouth snapped open and closed, dripping spit in its hungry lust for flesh.

  Teeth gritted, arm shaking, Egil used his free hand to slam the claw end of his crowbar into the creature's arm. The crowbar bit deep into the devil's hide, drawing a spurt of blood and a squeal of pain. The devil reflexively pulled back his arm, and the sudden motion jerked Egil, off balance and staggering, toward the creature.

  Seizing the opportunity, one of the smaller mandible arms caught Egil about the waist and lifted him bodily toward the fang-lined, cavernous mouth in the creature's chest. The priest squirmed in the devil's grasp, legs kicking, curses flying, as the devil drew him toward a mouth that could bite him in half.

  Nix charged barefoot across the roof, falchion held in a two-handed grip, shouting oaths.

  Egil's roar answered the devil's hungry growl and when he was close enough, Egil slammed the crowbar he still clutched into the devil's teeth. The blow shattered another tooth and fragments of it flew in all directions. The devil shrieked with agony, spasmed with pain, and reflexively hurled Egil across the rooftop. The priest hit the wall near the door, near the old woman, and sagged to the ground once more.

  The devil whirled to face Nix, arms coiled for a strike, but Nix did not slow. He parried a swing of the devil's arm, rode the momentum of the parry into a spin, leaped over a swing from the other arm, and slashed downward at the creature's shoulder. His blade rang off the scales, and he bounded backward. A fanged mouth snapped at his ear. He ducked as the mouth bit again and the teeth collected a tithe of his hair rather than his flesh. He unleashed a twisting backhand swing of his falchion and the blade cut into the devil's arm. Teeth snapped all around him as he spun, slashed, twisted, and leaped. He loosed a furious onslaught of slashes and stabs, his blade mostly bouncing off the devil's hide, but occasionally opening a scratch. The devil's arms swarmed around him, the fanged mouths snapping in the air, snatching at his clothes. He tried to lead the creature toward the edge of the floor that overlooked the Shelf, hoping to somehow trick the devil into falling over the side, but the devil did not come near when Nix retreated to the edge.

  Egil stirred, one leg bending at the knee. Rakon, too, was trying to rise, still coughing and spitting blood. The devil cared nothing for either. He roared and lumbered at Nix.

  Nix darted to the side, slashing defensively with his blade. He stumbled over the lead line of a thaumaturgic triangle and went down. He whirled to see the twin mouths on the end of the devil's arms streaking toward his face. He rolled to his side but too slow. One of the mouths closed on his arm, the sphincter of fangs twisting as it clamped down.

  Blinding pain summoned a shout of agony from Nix. Blood poured from the wound, the devil's arm pulsing grotesquely as it nursed fluid from his arm. Nix slashed down with his falchion to dislodge the bite, once, twice, and the creature released his arm in a spray of blood.

  He staggered backward, bleeding profusely, already weakening. The devil did not relent. His arms flailed for him, his mouths snarled and snapped, as he moved toward Nix on the thick cylinders of his legs.

  Nix's eyes fell to the floor and a desperate stratagem occurred to him. He acted before he'd thought it through. He circled wide to draw the devil toward the binding circle inlaid into the wood. The moment the devil stepped within it, Nix dove forward on his belly, touched the activating glyph on the circle, and shouted a word in the Language of Creation.

  Instantly the circle flared and a translucent green sphere of power encapsulated the devil: another prison for Abrak-Thyss, albeit a temporary one.

  Realizing what had happened, the creature roared with frustration.

  Nix scrabbled backward, bleeding, breathing hard, while the devil flailed his arms and railed his anger against his binding. Where he struck the sphere, sparks of energy flew. Nix knew the circle would not hold for long. He didn't know the proper incantation to use the glyph properly, and even if he did he doubted it could have held Abrak-Thyss for long.

  "Stay there," he said to the creature, but couldn't even muster a grin.

  Still bleeding from his shoulder, he turned around to find Rakon standing and Egil on all fours, coughing. The sorcerer eyed the bound devil, Nix, then Egil. Fear entered his expression and he ran for the half-open door. He staggered as he went, favoring his side, and Nix thought he'd make it, but Egil saw him, roared, scrambled to his feet, and proved the faster. The priest tackled Rakon right before the door and they went down in a scrum of arms and legs. The sorcerer was no match for Egil's strength and size, and almost instantly the priest was astride him, his huge fists slamming into Rakon's head and face again and again.

  Rakon shrieked, wailed as blood sprayed, bone crunched, and teeth flew. The sorcerer held his hands up, feebly trying to grab Egil's thick arms or deflect the priest's furious onslaught, but to no avail. The old woman near the door looked on, a dazed look in her eyes, her hand to her mouth in shock.

  "Egil!" Nix called, and stumbled toward him, trying to stanch the blood leaking from his shoulder.

  But the priest either did not hear him or did not acknowledge him.

  "Your own sisters!" Egil said, and hammered Rakon's face again, again. "Your own sisters! We saw it, you fakking monster! We saw it!"

  The devil shrieked in rage, the binding circle sizzling as he tried to break free.

  "Your own sisters!" Egil said again, repeating the phrase with every punch, the words a vengeful incantation.

  Rakon went limp under him and still Egil did not stop. The priest would beat Rakon to death if Nix did not stop him.

  "Your own sisters!"

  Nix staggered to his friend's side, caught his right hand by the wrist.

  Egil whirled on him, tears in his eyes, left hand cocked.

  "You can't beat it out of you by beating him!" Nix said.

  The priest stared at him, blinking, pain in his eyes.

  "You can't, Egil," Nix said, more softly. "We saw it. We
felt
it, at least in part. It'll never be out."

  Egil lowered his fists, looked over at the old woman. There were tears in her eyes, too. Egil slouched, started to weep.

  Rakon groaned, his face a broken, bloody mess.

  Behind them, the devil raged in his prison.

  They didn't have much time.

  "I have an idea," Nix said, staring at Rakon.

  Egil looked up, his bushy brows raised in a question.

  Nix glanced over at the old woman, who was trembling against the wall. "Get her for me, Egil."

  "Nix…"

  "I'm not going to hurt her. You know me better than that." He nodded at Rakon. "I'm going to hurt
him
. Get me Rusilla, if you'd prefer."

  The devil's attack on the binding circle grew frenetic, his rage-filled slams against the magic causing it to spark and flare.

  "Hurry," Nix said.

  While Egil gathered Rusilla, Nix tore a strip of his clothing and did his best to tie off his shoulder wound. Egil laid Rusilla down gently on the floor near Nix. Her eyes were open and she stared into Nix's face.

  "I'm touching only your hand," Nix said to her, not sure if she could hear him.

  He took her hand in his, removed the transmutation wand from his satchel, and activated it with a word in the Mages' Tongue. Once more the gold cap glowed and the wand warmed in his hand.

  "What are you doing?" Egil asked.

  "Watch," he said, and touched it to Rusilla.

  "I still don't see…" the priest said.

  Nix then touched the wand to Rakon. "Let him experience what he intended for them."

  Rakon's eyes snapped open as the magic poured into him. As the transformation began, his eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream.