'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!
Over her shoulder, he saw Khanda hurling himself about like an acrobat, spinning between Seilloah's tendrils, always just beyond reach of Jassion's furiously hacking blade. Now and again, bursts of fire or shrieking levinbolts would hurtle from the demon's fists, pour from his eyes. Thanks to the speed and magics of the Kholben Shiar, the baron avoided or even parried most of them, but burns across his arms and chest showed where a few had found their mark.
Corvis saw, too, the witch fluttering in the corner above, raining feathers and bloody pus as her strength ebbed, the corruption spread through her latest-her last?-body.
And then Corvis's boot came down on a rough chunk of stone, and he found himself flailing. With a cry of infinite despair, Mellorin lunged.
Still he could have stopped her, could have cut her down with Sunder before the dagger fell. Still he would not.
White-hot agony yanked at his entire body like an angry puppeteer as her blade plunged deep into his left side. He coughed twice, felt the slick steel slide from his flesh as he staggered. Groaning, he pressed his left hand to the wound, felt liquid warmth between his fingers.
'Daddy? I'm so sorry, Daddy…' Even as she wept, she came at him again, bloody knife poised, and it was all he could do to stay ahead of her.
'Sorry?' Khanda's mocking laugh echoed through the cellar. 'This is what you wanted, Mellorin! Ah, fickle youth…'
A shadow fell across Mellorin and the baroness appeared behind, hands outstretched to wrestle the blade away. The girl spun a brutal kick into Irrial's knee and continued on, ignoring the other woman as she collapsed to the floor.
'Corvis…' It came from above, the caw of a wounded bird. 'Corvis, I can't hold on much longer. If it doesn't happen soon…'
'Aw, poor Corvis.' Again from Khanda, literally dancing away from Jassion's blade. He wasn't even trying to attack anymore, wasn't throwing fire or arcane bolts. He was, Corvis realized with a choking mouthful of bile, enjoying the show. 'Did your little plan fall apart? Did you smuggle poor, dying Seilloah here for nothing?'
Corvis snarled something, but the words that crossed the cellar were Mellorin's, not his own. 'Kaleb! Gods, Kaleb, don't make me do this! Please…'
'I admit,' Khanda continued, 'it's not as efficient as Selakrian's charm, but it seems to be doing the trick, doesn't it? Of course, it'd be a lot harder if part of her hadn't already wanted to see you dead. Poor abandoned waif. But if it makes you feel better, it's mostly me. I told you, I've complete control of my physical form-and I've spent many a night these past weeks leaving tiny parts of that form in sweet little Mellorin. And now look. Why, the result is almost as much fun as the process!'
Corvis stumbled once more, so violently was he trembling, and only Sunder's unnatural speed enabled him to parry the stroke that followed. Thick blood soaked his trousers, left a trail across the floor, and with every step
