Veilspeaker (Pharim War Book 2) (18 page)

“What was that about?” Osmund asked.

“They were controlled,” Jez said. “He released them.”

It happened a few more times, but each encounter had
the same result. On occasion Shamarion would wave a hand and the wall or floor
would ripple revealing a glowing rune which he burned out. Jez recognized one
as the broken crown of Maries.

“Will that hurt him in some way?” Jez asked.

“Probably not,” Shamarion said, “but it’s possible.
Come, I can feel him gathering power.”

Jez nodded and realized he could feel the same thing.
The air felt wrong, and it wasn’t just the ever present scent of sulfur. He
held out his hand and summoned his sword. A second later, Villia did the same.
Shamarion glared at her but she gave no response. Osmund looked at the three
pharim weapons and sighed. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again,
they were the burning eyes of Ziary. The scion’s form replaced his a second
later, and he drew his own weapon. The guards at the door to the throne room
barely had time to bring their hands to their hilts before they were hit by
Shamarion’s sparks. They looked at each other in confusion, though one drew his
sword and held it up. Whether it was due to actual loyalty or out of a
realization that he probably shouldn’t let just anyone into the throne room,
Jez had no idea. Still, before the unearthly forms of Ziary and Shamarion, his
blade shook in his hands. Ziary didn’t even resort to his own weapon. His hand
darted forward and struck the guard on the wrist, sending the sword clattering
to the ground. The others moved to draw their swords, but Ziary glared at them,
his eyes glowing even brighter, and they took a step back. Shamarion actually
looked disappointed.

“Disgraceful.”

“Did you actually want them to fight?” Jez asked.

“They are
guardians
. They should not abandon
their duty.”

Jez shook his head but didn’t reply, and they moved
past the terrified guards. Shamarion flicked a finger and the metal-framed
doors swung inward. Sharim stood near one wall of the throne room with his
hands raised. He was at the edge of a circle of glowing runes. In the center,
Haziel sat on his throne. The king stared blankly in front of him, and he
seemed to be having trouble keeping his eyes open. The purple barrier
periodically flashed around him, but each time, it was a little fainter. As it
faded, the king slumped a little more. Strands of power emanating from the circle
latched to the barrier and drained its power, feeding it to the being standing
next to Haziel.

The demon was the same size and shape as a human but
with red eyes and blue skin. His hair, a darker shade of blue, had been cut
short. His body was lean but with the same whipcord strength that many of the
truly dangerous swordsmen had, those who relied on skill rather than brute
strength. Unlike every other demon Jez had seen, this one wore clothes. His
uniform was the white cloth that Jez had so often seen on officers at formal
functions. A diving eagle token had been pinned to the right side of his chest,
the sign of the supreme commander of the forces of Ashtar, a position that
should have been held by the queen.
 
He
had other metals pinned beneath it. Jez didn’t recognize most, but one was in
the shape of the broken crown of Maries.

Sharim lowered his hands and laughed. All the
uncertainty was gone from his voice. “You took longer than I expected, though I
admit, I didn’t expect you to free the Shadowguard.”

“You came from Dusan’s lands. You were his
apprentice,” Jez said.

Sharim grinned, and the expression on his face looked
like it belonged to someone far older. “Something like that.”

“It was you all along. You made the illusion of the
circle in Varin’s room. You searched Lina’s room. You didn’t really find the
book. You had it with you all along. You’ve been with the king every time he’s
gotten angry.”

“I was surprised you fell for it so easily. I didn’t
have to manipulate your mind at all, but then Shadowguards have never been the
most subtle of creatures.”

The blood drained from Jez’s face. “Dusan told you
about that.”

There was flash of purple, and Haziel screamed. The
light around him flared, and the strands connecting it to the demon pulsed with
power. Shamarion let out a battle cry and launched himself at Sharim. An
instant before his sword would’ve split Sharim in two, a blade made seemingly
of bone darted in front of him and caught his weapon. Maries had moved across
the room faster than Jez’s eyes could follow. The circle continued to feed him
power, he smiled revealing teeth of pure darkness. His dry voice made the hairs
on Jez’s arm stand on end.

“The last time we fought, you had the advantage. Let’s
see how you react when the roles are reversed.”

“You’re still outnumbered, Maries.”

Shamarion drew back his sword and thrust with one
fluid motion, but Maries deflected the attack with casual indifference. He
rebuffed three more strikes in the time it took Jez to take a breath.

“Am I?”

A dozen pillars of flame appeared
around the throne room. When they faded, each left behind a chezamut. The
creatures growled, and as one, they attacked.

Five of the beasts rushed at Jez. A
quick slash dispatched one of them, but the others attacked so furiously he had
to turn all his efforts toward defense. There wasn’t time to think. There was
only the instinctive reactions drilled into him by countless hours of sword
practice. Blade met tooth and claw in movements almost too quick to be seen,
but there were too many. It wasn’t enough, and after a few seconds, gashes ran
down his arms, and a claw had sliced across his stomach. He batted aside one
claw but another sank into his leg, and he stumbled.

He looked up, and time slowed down as the trio of
claws descended toward him. His own blood gleamed on them. Even if he could
raise his sword in time, he’d never deflect all three of them, and he wasn’t
sure he could survive even one. With nothing more to lose, he drew deeply on
Luntayary’s power. Wings emerged from his back and strength flowed into his
limbs. His wounds closed, and his robes shifted to a shimmering blue. One of
his wings knocked a demon aside as his sword opened the stomach of another. The
third scored a hit against his shoulder and dragged its claw down his chest.
Jez barely even felt it. The power coursing through him was too much. It
threatened to consume him. A flick of his sword decapitated the one that had
wounded him, and he lunged at the one he’d knocked aside, impaling it. He threw
his hand toward the last creature. The silver binding shot forward, crashing
into the demon’s chest. It cried out once before vanishing into the abyss.

The power inside of him was too great to be contained
by his mortal form. He could feel it burning his flesh away. He released it,
and his wings disappeared. He sank to the ground feeling utterly drained. His
sword vanished, and it was several seconds before he could gather his wits
enough to take in the situation. Ziary battled four of the creatures while Villia
fought two. The others, presumably, had already been banished. Shamarion and
Maries moved in a blur of light and power. The room pulsed every time they came
together. Sharim was still at the edge of the circle with his arms raised as he
chanted.

With an effort, Jez got to his feet. He tried to
summon his crystal sword, but it refused to come, and the effort nearly sent
him to his knees again. Instead, he drew his metal blade and started moving
across the room. He was halfway to Sharim before he was seen. Sharim uttered a
word Jez didn’t recognize and one of the demons fighting Ziary disengaged and
moved toward Jez, but that was all the opening Ziary needed. He batted aside a
claw and immediately counterattacked, splitting open the demon’s head. The other
two fell in quick succession before the one moving toward Jez had made it
halfway there. It didn’t stand a chance when Ziary reached it.

“Now!”

The dry voice rang through the throne
room like a hurricane. Jez turned and his blood went cold. Maries had driven
his sword through Shamarion’s stomach. Its end came out of his back. His wings
twitched and liquid blue light bled from his mouth. Harsh syllables rang out of
Sharim’s mouth. The strands that had been draining power from Haziel lashed on
to Shamarion. The pharim screamed as a hole of darkness appeared beneath him,
and Jez gagged on the sulfuric smell. Maries lowered his sword, and Shamarion
slid off of it. His limp form fell into the hole. The entire castle shook as
abyss consumed the Shadowguard. Jez’s senses exploded as the boundary between
the physical world and the abyss became paper thin. He could sense them.
Maries’s army was coming.

Sharim staggered and fell to one knee.
Jez summoned what strength he could muster and launched himself forward, but
Sharim rolled out of the way. Maries darted in, and his bone blade flicked
Jez’s sword out of his hand. Before he could cut Jez down, however, Ziary
interposed himself. Maries sneered, and spoke in a voice like crackling ice.

“I’ve just defeated a pharim warrior,
little scion. What chance do you think you have?”

Ziary flicked his sword at Maries’s
leg. There was a rent in the demon’s pants that Jez hadn’t noticed. Red motes
flaked out. “You weren’t wounded then.”

Villia stepped up next to Ziary, her
shadow blade casting odd shades of its own. “And you only faced a single
opponent.”

“By the end of the day, my hoard will
pour through that hole. What will you do against so many?”

Villia grinned. “By the end of the
day, you’ll be banished. Shamarion will be retrieved and the hole will be
closed, that is, if you’re not too much of a coward to face us.”

Maries’s eyes flared and he raised
his blade. “Come at me, then!”

He hadn’t finished speaking when
Ziary charged. Maries flicked the weapon away as if it were held by a child.
Villia was on him a second later, but the demon effortlessly warded off her
attacks. Even when Ziary recovered and joined the battle, Maries barely seemed
inconvenienced. Jez, however, kept his attention focused on Sharim.

The false apprentice was chanting,
and the hole seemed to rumble with every word. Everything smelled like sulfur
now. Every once in a while, Sharim would cry out, and the hole would spew forth
a great column of smoke, and the smell intensified. He was trying to hasten the
army’s arrival. Jez raised his sword and charged.

Sharim moved aside, but Jez’s blade
followed him, slashing across the left side of his chest. Sharim cried out and
the circle dimmed a little. Jez’s eyes went wide. It was dependent on Sharim’s
power. Without that to feed it, the circle might be disrupted. Jez threw
himself at his foe, drawing on a reserve of strength he hadn’t known he’d had.
He even tried to call on Luntayary’s power, willing to risk his life if would
end this threat, but transforming was a strain at the best of times. As
exhausted as he was, he couldn’t get a grip on the pharim’s power. Sharim
reached toward Haziel and drew the smaller sword from the king’s scabbard. Like
Jez’s own blade, it was a light weapon more suited to personal dueling than
true battle. If Jez had been fully rested, he would’ve taken Sharim apart, but
as it was, his movements were slow and sluggish. Equally tired from his ritual,
Sharim barely avoided his attacks.

The room rumbled and a gout of sulfur
billowed from the hole. Sharim stumbled and Jez thrust his sword forward.
Sharim fell back to avoid the blow.

“Maries!”

The demon howled as Ziary’s sword
slashed across its arm, but in the next instant, it was by Sharim’s side. Ziary
and Villia joined Jez. Ziary bled fiery motes from half a dozen wounds, and
Villia was favoring her left leg.

“The circle depends on Sharim,” Jez
said.

Ziary nodded, but Maries sneered.
“You’ll have to get past me to get to him, and I don’t think you’re up to that.
Run, and I just might let you live.”

“He’s right,” Ziary said. “A few more
seconds, and he would’ve killed us both. You wouldn’t be much help right now.
If we survive today, we can come back stronger.”

Jez shook his head. An army of demons
would take over Ashtar and very likely the world after that. It wouldn’t matter
how much stronger they were when they came back, it wouldn’t be enough. He
couldn’t let that happen, no matter the cost. He raised his sword and stepped
forward. Ziary’s arm shot out in front of him.

“He’ll kill you.”

Jez met his friend’s gaze. “I know.”

Ziary’s eyes blazed but he withdrew
his hand. If Jez died, Luntayary would be unleashed in the fullness of his
power. He wasn’t sure if his pharim self was strong enough to defeat Maries or
if he’d be allowed to fight even if he was. Pharim had unusual rules about that
sort of thing, but he suspected Maries didn’t know the answer either. It was
probably why he’d told them to run.

“If this doesn’t work,” Jez said. “Do
whatever it takes to stop him.”

“I will,” Ziary said.

“I will,” the image of Ziary standing
behind Maries said.

“I will,” the one near the throne
said.

One by one, a dozen doubles appeared
all over the room. Maries reached for the one nearest him, and it shimmered as
his hand passed through it.

“Illusions.”

The images started moving around the
room, though their steps were jerky. One darted forward and slashed at the
demon, but his sword passed right through Maries. Maries laughed, but then the
real Ziary started moving in a circle, mimicking the movements of the
illusions. After a second, Jez had lost track of him completely.

“How will you tell which one is
real,” Lina said from the door. She was leaning heavily on the doorway. “How
will you know which to block?”

One of the Ziarys darted forward, and
Maries’s sword rose to meet the attack, but his weapon passed right through it.
Another image lashed at his throat. This time, the sword left a wide gash.