The Warlord's Legacy (56 page)
“Not yet,” came the equally quiet reply. “He’s far too focused. I need him distracted.”
Corvis nodded. “How did you find us?” he asked, raising his voice once more.
/Didn’t have to. You’ve always been predictable, Corvis. As soon as I dropped “Master” Nenavar’s name, I knew you’d come here eventually. All I had to do was watch the place./
“I can’t believe the idiot didn’t have teleportation wards on his own home.”
/Oh, he did, more than you’d ever imagine. But he’d attuned them to
admit me. He so enjoyed summoning me to him at every whim, and after all, I couldn’t
possibly
hurt him, could I?/
Another nod. And of course, he’d have been able to carry Mellorin as well—or at worst, teleport her nearby and then physically open the door from within.
“Khanda, please …”
/Eh?/
“Let her go.” He hadn’t known he was going to say it until the words were out. “She’s taken Nenavar out for you, done what you needed her to. This is between us. Let her go.”
/Why, Corvis, that’s so sweet, I could just cry. Actually, I’d rather make someone else cry. It’s so much more fun./
“Khanda …”
Just keep talking, you bastard
. With every second, he could feel the pain of his wounds lessening, his strength growing …
/I’m keeping her, Corvis. She really wanted to be here for this. Besides, I think I’ve grown attached to the little lady—rather like a pet. I want her around to see what happens to you, and you to see some of what I’ll be doing to
her.
It’s not good for family to have secrets from each other, you know./
Corvis choked, fire roaring in his mind. And as it had before, his concentration wavered.
/Corvis …?/
Not merely the demon’s tone, but the set of his shoulders, bespoke a sudden suspicion.
/Corvis, what are you doing?/
“Damn it!” If Khanda had sensed the slow spring of magic flowing through their bodies, mending their hurts, they could wait no longer. “Are you ready?”
“No!” that voice insisted. “Corvis, I need more time!”
“Then I,” he growled, tensing muscles that should have been too weak to move, “need the Kholben Shiar.”
Beneath Corvis’s cloak and tunic—and, too, beneath the soil exposed by the rents in the floor—unseen things began to move …
“What? Where are you—?”
“Probably nowhere. You’ve just got me paranoid now. I want
to make sure nobody’s following—that Mavere didn’t somehow manage to signal anyone.”
“Paranoid indeed,” Jassion said. “But probably wise,” he acknowledged, riding on ahead.
Corvis wheeled his mount in a tight circle and galloped back the way they’d come, straining to keep one eye on the sky, the other on the road. As soon as he was well and truly out of sight of the others he reined the beast to a halt and raised an arm out before him.
Having been waiting for just that, or so it seemed, one of the crows circling above plummeted to alight upon his wrist. It was a bedraggled, sickly-looking thing, with drooping feathers and weeping eyes.
“I see you brought some friends,” Corvis said.
Wings rose and fell in what was probably meant as a shrug. “They followed me,” the crow told him. “Probably figured I knew something they didn’t. Or maybe they were curious about me.”
“Or maybe they’re just birds, and gods know why they do anything.”
“Or that, yes.”
Corvis lowered his wrist so she could hop onto the pommel of his saddle. “I was afraid I’d never see you again, Seilloah.”
“You almost didn’t,” she admitted.
“I’m sorry I—”
“No, Corvis,
I’m
sorry. Of
course
finding Mellorin and stopping Khanda take precedence. I don’t like it, but I understand it. It’s just—it hurts so much, you’ve no idea how much …”
“I understand,” he told her softly.
“You don’t. Not really.”
“No, not really. Seilloah …” He swallowed, reached up to wipe away tears he refused to shed. “Seilloah, if you want, I could—I could end it. Make it quick.”
Corvis didn’t understand how, but he swore he saw the beak flex into a sad smile. “No, dearest. Thank you—I know how much you didn’t want to offer that—but it’s not necessary. If I
want to end it, all I need do is stop fighting. Let the spell lapse. It’ll be over in seconds.”
“Then why …?”
“I thought about it. More than once, especially in the past few weeks, I very nearly did. But I couldn’t, not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Khanda. Corvis, I think I know how to beat him …”
C
ORVIS ROLLED TO HIS FEET
, his companions—all save Salia Mavere, whom Seilloah had not thought worth the effort to heal—following only seconds after. A small crow stuck its head out from within Corvis’s tunic, and from beneath the exposed soil erupted a squid-like array of roots and tendrils, drawn through the earth from the surrounding gardens and hedge. With uncanny speed they lashed out, some knocking Khanda and Nenavar aside, others wrapping like whips about Mellorin’s wrists. She cried out, and the Kholben Shiar plummeted earthward.
Even more tendrils intercepted them, flinging them hilt-first across the room. Seilloah dived from Corvis’s clothes and fluttered toward the cracked ceiling as he snagged the weapons in mid-flight. Sunder he clasped in his left fist, spinning it in an upright grip even as it shifted into its familiar shape. But Talon—Talon he whipped back behind his head and hurled back across the chamber. It tumbled end over end, forming into an axe not unlike Sunder itself, and struck …
Not Khanda, for the demon had not been Corvis’s target, but Nenavar. The old wizard’s body spasmed as his head split under the axe’s caress, and then lay forever still.
Everything went silent as death. Slowly, Khanda rose from where the writhing plants had flung him. With an angry grunt, he shoved Nenavar’s body off him, small gobbets of his former master’s brain and skull clinging to his face. Corvis spun Sunder smoothly through the air before him, ready for any response.
Except, perhaps, for Khanda to simply stand gaping at him, jaw
moving silently. In all the years they’d known each other, in all the forms the demon had worn, Corvis had
never
seen him at a loss for words.
“You …” Even when he finally spoke, the words seemed almost too much for him. “You
bastard
!”
“Really, Khanda? That’s the best you can do?”
“Kaleb?” Mellorin appeared at his side, clutching her lacerated wrists. “Why is he calling you—”
But the demon ignored her, had eyes only for the man he hated most in all the world. “Do you have
any
idea how hard it is for a sorcerer to
take over
another’s conjuration? I don’t even know if there are any alive who could do it! I’m going to have to search for
years
before I find someone who can usurp Nenavar’s spell!”
“And until then, there’s no way to free you from the binding’s limitations. I know.” Corvis shrugged. “Weren’t you the one who just told me I ought to be trying to kill Nenavar? You were right. Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Kaleb,” Mellorin demanded, her tone far more insistent. “What’s he talking about?”
“Yes,
Kaleb.
” Corvis smiled grimly. “Tell her what I’m talking about.”
Khanda growled and shoved Mellorin aside, not hard, just enough to stagger her. “You,” the demon hissed, “are now officially more troublesome than you are fun. Good-bye, Corvis.”
Flames bridged the chamber. Stone cracked; brimstone-reeking smoke made for the holes above, seeking its own escape. Anticipating just such an attack, Corvis and the others dived aside. He continued rolling, rose and ran as Khanda spun, sweeping his hellfire across the far wall in swift pursuit.
Sweat poured down Corvis’s face, his heart pounded in his chest. Over the roaring fire he heard his daughter shouting, but what she said, or whether she addressed him or the man she knew as Kaleb, he couldn’t tell. He was nearing the end of the cellar, had nowhere else to dodge …
And the flames abruptly angled upward before ceasing entirely. At
Seilloah’s urging, the tendrils lashed at Khanda yet again, knocking him backward and disrupting his attack. For the second time in as many minutes, the room went abnormally, impossibly silent.
In that instant of calm, Corvis saw the others staring at him, nightmarish phantoms in the flickering light of the many small fires that illuminated the cellar. And he saw in their faces a growing despair, for what, really, could they do against such a foe?
Struggling to catch his breath, he gestured toward Khanda, who was even now rising once more to his feet. “Wound him! It’ll be enough!” He didn’t know if they heard, wasn’t even certain how loudly he’d spoken, but Jassion and Irrial both nodded all the same. They separated, advancing on the demon from different sides. In her right fist, the baroness clutched her dueling blade—better than nothing against Khanda, albeit only just—but Jassion’s hands remained empty.
Khanda stood tall, hands raised, and from above came the first hint of whistling—of the air itself splitting—as he prepared to call down another storm of undiluted eldritch force. Corvis cocked his arm back as though to hurl Sunder like he had Talon, and just as he’d hoped, Khanda flinched, allowing his spell to fade. Immortal the demon might be, but with the aid of the Kholben Shiar, they had taught him to fear
pain
.
The others lunged, taking advantage of that momentary distraction. Irrial’s blade sank deep into the meat of Khanda’s side; a mere sting, less than an inconvenience, but at least a start. Jassion, however, hurtled
past
his foe; stooped, instead, by Nenavar’s corpse and lifted Talon from the human wreckage. Clutching the hilt in both hands as it sculpted itself again into his great two-hander, he took a single step toward Khanda and offered a twisted smile.
The demon waved, and Jassion felt himself lifted from his feet, as had happened thrice before. This time, however, he recognized the gesture and twisted aside while thrusting with the demon-forged blade, as though parrying a corporeal weapon. Perhaps it helped, perhaps he’d simply avoided the worst of the spell, but he tumbled only a few yards before landing in an awkward crouch.
Seilloah’s roots and tendrils continued whipping themselves at
Khanda, forcing him to split his attentions, lest he be knocked aside or bound long enough for either Kholben Shiar to deliver up far greater torment.
Mellorin appeared suddenly at his side, her own dagger held before her. “Go!” she insisted, placing herself between her lover and her father’s relentless approach. “I can hold them long enough for you to get out!”
Corvis pulled up short just beyond his daughter’s reach, his eyes imploring, his soul shivering at the gleam in Khanda’s own.
“No …” The demon turned away, devoting his attention to Jassion and Irrial. “No, don’t keep him off me. Kill him.”
“
What
? No! Kaleb, I don’t think I’m—”
“
Kill him.
”
Her face gone slack in horrified disbelief, tears beginning to roll along her cheeks, Mellorin advanced on her father, blade held high.
“Mellorin!” Corvis stretched forth a hand, only to yank it back as her blade nearly took off the tips of his fingers. “Mellorin, stop!”
“I’m
trying
!” And he saw, then, the unsteady gait as she approached, the twitching and shuddering that ran through her limbs without slowing her movements one iota. “Oh, gods, what’s happening?”
Corvis backpedaled as fast as the loose rubble would permit, Sunder held defensively, casting about desperately for some solution. Time and again Mellorin’s blade struck, and each time he parried only to find himself faced with a new angle of attack. She was good, she was fast; better and faster than he’d ever have expected. He felt his chest swell with pride even as he wondered how to stop her. More than once she left herself open, and he felt the tug as Sunder, or perhaps his own instincts, goaded him to strike. But by every god and every damned soul, he
would not
!