A Princess of Landover

Throg Monkeys too scared to flee were crouched in the shadows just on the other side of the opening, eyes wide. The scene was a bizarre tableau, all the characters frozen in place against the ebb and flow of the crimson light.

Now Thom slowed, uncertain what to do. He glanced over at Mistaya, searching for direction, but she had none to give. There was a screen of clear light across the opening; she could see a distension where the demons pressed up against it. It was all that held them back, and it was being stretched more thinly as the magic eroded the library walls and widened the opening. Mistaya’s gamble in tricking the Throg Monkeys into returning the stolen books had worked for a time, but something had gone wrong. Either the demons had discovered her ruse or her battle with His Eminence had triggered this new response. Whatever the case, the demons weren’t waiting any longer to break free.

They were coming out now.

Mistaya stood a dozen yards away, squarely in their path, and summoned a conjuring of storm-strength repulsion that she had learned from Questor Thews. She brought it to her fingers and threw it at the demons, a white-hot explosion that knocked them backward into the tunnel, turning them into a sprawling dark mass of arms, legs, teeth, and claws.

But in the process of stopping their advance, she had destroyed the thin membrane that held them at bay.

She stared. She couldn’t believe how foolish she had been. She had acted impulsively, out of haste and fear; she had responded to the danger without thinking things through.

Already the demons were back on their feet, a knot of twisted dark faces and feral eyes searching her out. She summoned an iron-infused blocking spell, throwing it up across the opening, and they were stopped short. But only for a few precious moments, she knew; the spell would not last.

They plunged ahead again in seconds, the big demon with the red leather book leading the way. He held the book clutched close against his chest, claws gripping it tightly. Following in his wake, the foremost invaders cleared the tunnel opening and were suddenly inside the library before her third casting—this one a combination of tornado-force wind and hurricane rain—threw back the entire pack once more.

She dropped to one knee, nearly exhausted by her efforts. She had used the best of the conjurings she had learned from Questor. She had nothing left to try.

She caught herself. She did have another weapon: one of the deadly incantations she had learned from the witch Nightshade, one that would burn the demons to ash, that would steal the life from them with a certainty that was frightening even to think about.

It would stop them—if she could use it. If she could react as Nightshade had taught her and not think of what it meant.

But, no, she wouldn’t do that. Not even against creatures like these. Not even to save Libiris.

Then she saw the book. The leather cover glistened, shards of wicked red light seeping from between the pages even though its covers were closed. The book was lying on the floor just inside the library where the big demon must have dropped it when her spell struck.

Thom had seen it, too, and he was already racing toward it.

“Thom, no!” she screamed.

Too late. He was already there, just ahead of the demons that had regrouped inside the tunnel and were charging for the opening once more. Thom snatched up the book and stood frozen in place. The demons were almost on top of him, tearing at the space that separated them, claws eager for something more substantive. Mistaya waited for him to run, to drop the book, to save himself. But he just stood there, holding his ground against the onrush.

“Thom!” she screamed in desperation. “Throw me the book!”

He glanced back at her, his face bloodless.

“Throw me the book, Thom!” she repeated, gesturing wildly.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, abruptly, he turned from her and flung the book over the heads of the demons, a whirling, spinning missile.

Mistaya understood at once what he was trying to do: turn the demons around, using the book as a lure to send them back into the tunnel. He was trying to save her.

Mistaya reacted instinctively, doing something entirely un expected, even to herself, something she had sworn she would never do.

She summoned one of Nightshade’s spells.

Her hands a blur, her voice a hiss, she dispatched a chaser bolt of killing green fire, one that could have incinerated