Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (10 page)

Jez shook his head. “You don’t understand. She doesn’t
like me, but she hates him. She got that scar six months ago, and she still
keeps that illusion over it. If she actually summons an upper level demon, who
do you think she’ll send it after first?”

Osmund was pacing back and forth in
his cell. The small room only allowed him to take three steps before he had to
turn around and go the other way. His anger was almost tangible, and there
seemed to be a faint glow around him. Jez thought he could smell something
burning, but he told himself it was only his imagination. When Osmund saw Jez,
his expressions softened, but Jez could still see the anger just beneath the
surface.

“Well, this is new,” Jez said.

“What is?”

“You. Normally, when you get thrown in the dungeon,
you’re so depressed you’ll barely look up. I don’t think you stood up even once
last time.”

“This is different,” Osmund said in a voice that
wasn’t quite a shout.

“How so?”

“This time, I’m innocent. Do you know how you’re going
to get me out of here?”

“Not yet. We know it was Lina who actually killed
those men, or at least she summoned the demons who did.”

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.”

Osmund shrugged. “Jez, I don’t know. She’s a spoiled
brat, but I don’t think she’d summon demons to kill someone, and why would she
send them against her own people instead of me?”

Jez shrugged. “I’ve given up trying to understand
politics.”

“This isn’t politics. It’s common sense. Besides, do
you really think she could? She didn’t go the Academy for that long, and I
don’t think she’s ever studied summoning.”

“That was six months ago,” Jez said, “and there places
besides the Academy where things like that can be learned.”

Osmund rolled his eyes. “Jez, be serious. She’s not
going to learn to summon a demon of the third order in six months.”

“Maybe not, but that’s obviously not stopping her from
summoning lesser demons.”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you defending her?”

“Because if we’re wrong, I don’t want the real
summoner to get away.”

“Look, I just came down here to warn you. Lina might
send demons after you. Can you defend yourself?”

Osmund lifted a hand and wrinkled his brow in
concentration. His hand took on a cherry red glow, and a curl of smoke rose
from his fingers, but the light faded after a second.

“The wards around this place keep me from using any
ordinary magic, but I think I can still transform.”

“Be careful,” Jez said. “I still don’t know what kind
of demons these are. We’re doing what we can to get you out.”

“All right. Remember, court politics can be almost as
dangerous as battle. You be careful yourself.”

“I will.”

Jez walked toward the stairs up, somewhat surprised
that he didn’t see guards anywhere. He was halfway across the dungeon when his
nose wrinkled at the smell of sulfur. He turned just in time to see three demons
emerge from the shadows.

The demons were covered in red scales
and stood nearly as tall as Osmund himself. Their legs ended in cloven hooves,
and their knees bent backward. Each hand had six bronze claws that almost
seemed to glow with their own inner fire. Sinuous tongues flickered out of long
faces, and curved horns rested atop their heads. Red hot flames burned in their
eyes. Jez had studied these creatures at the Academy. They were chezamuts, the
foot soldiers of the abyss.

Instantly, Jez’s hands started weaving patterns in the
air. He forced power into them, and a silver beam of light shot forward toward
the nearest demon. It should have impaled the beast and sent it back to the
abyss, but though the wards on the dungeon were concentrated in the prison
cells, they didn’t stop at the bars, and they weakened any magic used in the
prison. The light splashed against the demon’s chest, driving it back a few
inches. The demon snarled, the fire in its eyes intensifying. It took a step toward
Jez, and he started weaving the binding again, intending to pour even more
power into it.

Before he could release, there was a flash of light
from Osmund’s cell. When it faded, Osmund was gone. In his place was a winged
creature even taller than Osmund himself. Though his wings didn’t move, he
floated several inches above the ground. He wore scarlet robes that reminded
Jez of blood. He had pale skin and eyes that burned even hotter than those of
the demons. He closed his fist and a sword appeared in his hand, its blade
shrouded in red flame. The same sword that had given Lina her scar.

Ziary took a step forward and slashed. The bars melted
before his blow, and Jez was left with a streak of light in his vision. Ziary
looked at the demons and his eyes brightened. He spread his wings, shedding a
light almost too bright to look at. Jez had seen that light blister the skin of
people Ziary perceived as evil, but the demons just roared. Two lunged at Ziary
while the third ran at Jez.

If not for his training with the sword, Jez would’ve
been cut down in the space of a few heartbeats. The demon slashed with its
claws, but Jez jumped back. His hand fell to his belt, but Dusan’s sword wasn’t
there. He cursed himself for leaving it in the room and instead, he wove a
quick binding, pouring three times as much power as such a working would
normally require. A sphere of darkness shot forward, splashing against the
demon’s face. Its eyes went dark, and the creature let out a bellow that shook
the room.

Jez danced several steps back as his fingers crafted
the silver binding again. This time, he put everything he had into it. It
crashed into the demon, making the air vibrate with silent thunder. The demon
showed its teeth, jagged things that looked like dancing flames. It took a step
forward, and for a moment, Jez thought it would kill him in spite of the
binding, but as it took another step, its skin cracked. Scales flaked off
revealing pure white light underneath. It tried to roar, but music drifted out
of its open mouth. White lines that looked almost like tears appeared on its
cheek. It looked at Jez and for a second, he wondered if it would speak, but
instead, the light inside burst, enveloping the creature. When it faded, the
demon was gone, and Jez fell to his knees, completely drained.

Ziary was holding his own against the demons. Every
slash of the claws was met with burning blade, and their teeth never found his
flesh, but the demons evaded most of his attacks outright and managed to
deflect the rest on their claws. It looked more like a dance than a battle; all
three combatants moved with a liquid grace far beyond what any human could
achieve. Neither side could gain an advantage over the other. Jez tried to
summon his power. Anything he could do, any distraction, even a temporary one,
should allow Ziary to take out his foes, but pushing his binding through the
prison wards had taken everything he had.

The demons struck from two different directions. Ziary
caught one attack on his blade. Without even looking, he batted the other away
by hitting the demon’s hand with his fist. He didn’t, however, see the kick
that went into his side. There was a sound like cracking bone as the kick tore
through cloth and flesh alike. He cried out as motes of orange light bled from
the wound. A demon lunged at him, he tried to react but was too slow, and its
teeth latched onto his shoulder. Ziary screamed.

Jez forced himself to his feet and leapt at the demon
closest to him. He crashed into it with all the force of a butterfly running into
a stone wall, and the demon reacted no more than the wall would have. Pain
lanced down Jez’s arm. The demon looked down at him and showed Jez its teeth.
It opened its mouth.

It was all the opening Ziary needed.

Heedless of the one clamped onto his shoulder, the
scion lashed out with his sword, taking the head of the one going for Jez. It
screamed, its body transmuting to fire before becoming a pillar of smoke that
reeked so badly of sulfur that Jez gagged. The eyes of the one biting Osmund
brightened as it tried to ram its claws into him, but with only one foe, Ziary
turned his full attention on his attacker. He caught the demon’s arm by the
wrist and drove his sword into the creature’s chest. The chezamut screamed
before it too puffed out of existence. Ziary turned his burning eyes to Jez.

“Osmund?” Jez asked trying his best to keep his voice
steady.

Ziary could be an unforgiving enemy, descended from
those pharim tasked with destroying evil, and if he perceived the slightest
wrong in Jez, he would attack without hesitation. Jez didn’t have the strength
to stop him right now. Ziary nodded.

“He still hasn’t woken up from whatever working
Marrowit put on him.” The voice speaking was Osmund’s, not the peculiar double
voice of Ziary. “I’m still in control.”

“Maybe you should change back. It would probably be
bad if anyone saw you free.”

Ziary nodded and his form seemed to melt away leaving
Osmund in his place. The wounds he’d suffered in the fight were gone, though
Jez noticed that he clutched the side where the demon had kicked him. Osmund
looked at the remnants of the bars to his cell.

“How are we going to explain this?”

“We were attacked,” Jez said. “You defended yourself.”

“Assuming they believe us.”

Jez pointed to the ground. The imprint of clawed feet
had been burned into the stone.

“That should be proof enough for anyone.”

A full minute after the demons had been
banished, the guards rushed into the dungeon. The first one, a man who looked
like he enjoyed pastries a little too much, saw Osmund and cried out. Those
behind him drew swords so quickly one almost dropped her weapon. Osmund smirked
at them but made no threatening move. The captain opened another cell and
gestured to Osmund. The boy was obviously trying not to laugh as he stepped
inside. The guards started calming once he was safely put away, but that
changed when Jez showed them the charred footprint in the stone.

“What could do that?”

“A demon being banished,” Jez said. “We were
attacked.”

“You can’t be...”

The guard stopped when Jez narrowed his eyes. He took
a step back, keeping his eyes locked on the footprint. He uttered a few terse
words, and one of the other soldiers ran up the stairs to get a binder to
confirm Jez’s story. Jez clasped Osmund’s hand and left the guards to their
work. Apparently, the guard that went up ahead of him didn’t keep his mouth
shut because everyone was talking about the demon footprint, though Jez
supposed it was better to have it widely known so Varin or Lina couldn’t sweep
it under the rug. He considered going straight to Haziel to bring his
accusation against Lina, but he thought better of it. Varin had shown how
easily he could manipulate a situation like that. Instead, he made his way to
the top of the south tower to Villia’s workshop. He pulled the door open to
find Villia on the other side reaching for the handle. She had a pack slung
over her shoulder. The desk in the room behind her had been cleared and the
rest of the room was empty. Even the floor had been wiped clean. He looked from
her to the empty workshop.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m leaving.”

“I can see that. Why? I need your help.”

She tried to push past him, but he held his ground and
gave her a hard stare. She shook her head.

“The kind of help you need, I can’t give.”

She waved her hand and faded from view. Footsteps came
from behind him, and he turned to see her walking away. He reached for her, but
realized his mistake and brought his arm to the side just in time to catch the
invisible woman trying to walk past him. He pulled water from the air and
doused her leaving an outline floating next to him.

“Let me pass, boy,” she said. “You have no authority
over me.”

“Please,” Jez said. “I don’t know how to deal with the
king.”

The watery outline took a step back into the room. Jez
followed, but before he could say anything, the room went dark. Stars appeared
above them and swirled across the ceiling. The sun rose in the east, though it
did nothing to banish the darkness. In the west, the full moon appeared and
began its slow ascent through the illusionary sky. Spheres came into being and
began circling him. Some had thin rings around them, and Jez had the impression
that they were huge, larger than the entire world.

“The king?” Villia’s voice came from everywhere at
once. Jez tried to reach for his power, but a barrier appeared cutting him off.
“You would try to force me to help you with the king? To aid in your petty
squabbles? Insolent child. You cannot begin to understand my concerns. I have
done things you cannot comprehend.”

“Lina is summoning demons!”

“What is one more mortal summoning demons?”

“Mortal? Are you something else?”

“I will leave now. You will not interfere.”

Jez moved to where he remembered the door being. Pain
blossomed in his chest, and he had to put a hand against a wall he couldn’t see
to support himself. He used his power to claw at the barrier shielding him, but
it might as well have been a mountain for all it reacted.

“How are you doing this?”

“You have no idea what I can do.”

One of the spheres passed through him, and he felt
nothing.

They’re illusions.

“I have seen more than you can imagine.”

Pain filled him, but Jez forced himself to ignore it.

It’s all illusions.

He remembered his first illusion class. Master Kerag
had said that a master illusionist could deceive all twelve senses. The five
standard ones and the seven relating to the seven dominions.

Including protection.

The barrier was still there, but Jez reached for his
power anyway. A being appeared in front of him, clothed in robes of violet
light. Its face looked vaguely human, but it wore a hood that shrouded its
features in shadows, all except for twin points of purple light. Bird-like
wings emerged from its back, translucent and almost seeming to be made of
shadows, though like the ceiling, stars moved across the feathers.