“Father Zajhera believes the demon wanted to force the emperor to kill a child,” Brother Qown offered.
“And who’s he again?”
“Father Zajhera. He’s the leader of my faith.” Brother Qown put a hand to his chest. “When Xaltorath possessed Janel, no one could make the demon leave. The emperor hoped Father Zajhera might have better luck.4 Which he did. Father Zajhera cured Janel’s possession and then watched over her and made sure—”
“Made sure what?” Ninavis said.
“Possession has a disastrous impact on the mind. Most people are never sane again. Father Zajhera made certain Janel recovered. She needed mental and spiritual healing, not physical.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dorna said. “The father’s all right, I suppose. Janel stayed with him in his fancy temple for six months while he fished that demon out. When she came back to Tolamer, the father came with her. Stayed another three or so years, making sure she was right in the head. And she was … but that don’t mean she was ever the same. I guess those six months must have seemed like years. She came back strong as an elephant and with that curse sending her back to Hell every night, like Xaltorath still has a hold on her soul.”
“I’ve told you, it’s not Hell,” Brother Qown protested.
Ninavis stared down at the girl. “So what is she?”
“Ain’t you been listening?” Dorna settled back down and shook her head. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you: I ain’t got a clue.”
14: THE NIGHT HUNT
Jorat Dominion, Quuros Empire. Two days since the last sighting of High Lord Therin D’Mon
“Okay, now it’s your turn,” Kihrin said.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a break?” Janel smiled, even as she clearly still teased him. “Obviously, it doesn’t have so unhappy an ending—for me, anyway. I’m still here.”
He shook his head. “Just tell me the story.”
“All right, all right. You come up again in this next part, you know. I didn’t know your name at the time, but still…” She shrugged. “I do think we know all the same people.”
Janel’s Turn. The Afterlife.
Something large thundered through the Afterlife’s forests. Several large somethings. I heard toppling trees crash as beasts moved through the dark woods, ravens scattering at their approach.
Kasmodeus paused, lowered his hammer to the side, stared in shock.
I couldn’t blame him. The Hunt’s arrival boded ill.
And not just for him.
I rolled to the side and hefted my shield as high as my broken ribs allowed.
He glanced back at me. **WE COULD TAKE THEM TOGETHER. LET US PUT THIS PETTY SQUABBLE BEHIND US AND JOIN FORCES. THEY’LL KILL YOU AS SURE AS ME WHEN THEY ARRIVE.**
I brushed blood from my face with my gauntlet, although I suspect I just spread the muck about.
“Interesting idea,” I said. The approaching elephants grew closer, and Mereina’s ghosts emptied out as demons took the opportunity to run for their lives.
There are few things demons fear. They are the ones others fear, the ones who feed off fear, the creatures who make mothers scream and old men wet themselves. The Eight Gods, though, are among the entities who garner a demon’s respect.
Demons run when gods take the field.
And what approached us was, at the very least, a servant of those Eight. If we were lucky, only that.
If we were not lucky, it would be Thaena herself. I brooked no illusion about whether I would survive such an encounter. I trespassed here as much as any demon. Kasmodeus knew that; it’s why he’d made the offer.
I smiled. “Alas, I have one issue with it.”
The demon cocked his head to the side. **WHAT’S THAT?**
I slammed my sword into him.
“The gods aren’t my enemies. You are.”
Kasmodeus’s hammer was a heavy, staggering weapon, but that didn’t always work in his favor. The demon had difficulty blocking with the weapon, while I had speed on my side.
Also, I had nothing to lose. I was dead either way.
I reminded myself the pain was all in my mind. Literally so, in this place. I wrenched my sword free and then stabbed him a second time. I didn’t think I could win, but I thought I might prevent him from leaving before Death’s forces arrived to finish him.
Kasmodeus had absorbed many souls. I wanted to ensure he had no chance to profit from his feeding frenzy. The death I provided would be temporary, a momentary weakening while he returned to Hell to regain his strength.
But what Thaena could do to him? She could restore all the souls he’d slain, undoing the damage so those who had died might be reborn. Demons broke the cycle of reincarnation; that is what makes them abominations. I could do nothing to restore the proper balance.
Thaena could.
I managed to cut a deep slice into his arm, severing the muscles and tendons allowing him to swing his oversized meat tenderizer. Even so, he remained dangerous and lethal and twice my size. I regretted Xaltorath had never taught me shape-changing. Then again, I would have rejected her lessons if she’d tried.
Kasmodeus bellowed and struck out with his arm, staggering me as the hammer crashed into my shield. It threw me out of line, but the unwieldy hammer prevented him from following up with a finishing stroke. I screamed and head-butted him as he leaned forward, thinking to do the same. When the blow made him pause, I kicked his side. I slashed my sword between his legs as a distraction and then slashed back across his stomach.
An elephant’s bellow—close now—made Kasmodeus look to the side. A whistling filled the air. I paused myself, trying to place why I knew that sound. Ninavis, I thought.
Oh. Arrows.
I dropped under my shield as white arrows rained down from the storm-dark skies. Any demons who hadn’t fled the field screamed, as white-feathered shafts found their marks. Kasmodeus roared, but his cry was no armor. A white arrow pierced his chest, another his left arm, several more striking his stomach and legs. A radiant light spread out from the arrow wounds, while Kasmodeus lurched back in surprised dismay.
Several arrows thunked against my shield.
Then an arrow hit true, spearing me through the leg.
The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced, and I had thought myself jaded to agony. Searing fire spread out from the injury; I had to grind my teeth to keep from crying out. It felt as though fire was burning my leg from the inside out, blazing beneath my skin.
But I couldn’t lower my shield. The rain of arrows hadn’t slackened.
I saw Kasmodeus take an arrow through the neck, another through his right eye. His whole body pulsed with light from a dozen sources.
His muscles began to flake away, glowing fragments floating away on the wind.
I looked down at my leg and saw flakes of light there too, smaller but still excruciating. More arrows impacted my shield. One managed to pierce the wood, stopping just a scant hairsbreadth from my face.
I started laughing.1
I was going to die there. Truly die.
I didn’t embrace the idea. There was so much I hadn’t done with my life. On some level, I had the childish thought dying would be allowing the man who’d pushed me from my home to win. That I’d be letting Sir Oreth do as he wished with my canton and people.