Cale smiled grimly, satisfied and victorious. This was over.
Even as that thought crossed his mind, the body of the Righteous Man suddenly jerked up straight. The voids of Yrsillar's eyes regained their focus and their glare sent a shiver up Gale's spine. The demon lord's grimace of pain twisted into a mirthful leer. He closed a hand around Gale's wrist and began to squeeze.
'Not so easy, Champion.'
Though the distortion no longer played about the
Righteous Man's form, the old man's slight body nevertheless exhibited the terrible strength of the demon lord.
Desperate, Cale maniacally jerked the long sword around and opened a hole in the Righteous Man's flesh. Yrsillar laughed into Cale's face and squeezed.
'Ahhh!' His wrist snapped. Still Yrsillar squeezed.
'Ahhhhh!' Bone grated against bone like grinding millstones. Dizzy, he thought he would pass out from the pain.
Unable to stop himself, he released the hilt of his blade. Yrsillar still gripped his wrist.
With all his strength, Cale balled his free hand into a fist-a fist that enclosed the felt mask-and punched Yrsillar in the face. Again and again he struck powerful blows that broke the Righteous Man's nose and split his lips.
With blood streaming down his battered face, Yrsillar only laughed. He lifted Cale by the wrist and shook him in the air like a child's doll. Cale screamed in agony.
Disdainfully, Yrsillar flung him aside. Cale flew through the air and crashed amongst the pews and charred ghoul corpses. Wracked with pain, he righted himself and looked up to see Yrsillar looming over him. Cale had no weapon. He crawled crabwise over the ghoul corpses, cradling his broken wrist.
'I told you that you cannot escape me,' Yrsillar taunted, and spoke a word of magic. Five glowing bolts of energy streaked from the demon's extended fingers and slammed sizzling into Cale's chest.
The impact knocked him flat on his back. His chest was on fire. His breath left him. He rolled over onto his stomach and tried to crawl away. Yrsillar followed him. Cale could feel him, could feel the empty holes of the demon's eyes burning into his back.
'And you thought to challenge me! You and your ridiculous god.' He laughed evilly. 'I have eaten more souls than you have lived days, Erevis Gale.
Then with another magical word, another wave of energy seared Gale's back.
His vision went blurry. He struggled to stay conscious. Desperate, he clutched the felt mask in his spasming fist. Its soft touch brought him a moment of clarity.
He would die with dignity.
I'm your Champion and I won't die like a groveling dog, he thought to Mask.
Another blast of energy sent stabs of pain along his spine. He clamped his mouth shut and walled off the scream of pain that tried to burst from behind his teeth.
Though the effort nearly made him pass out, he flipped over onto his back. Yrsillar stood over him, frail with the Righteous Man's form, but awful for the power he contained.
'Damn you,' Gale croaked.
Yrsillar stopped laughing, bent down to regard him with narrowed orbits. 'It is you who are damned, Champion,' he said. 'Your soul is mine. I'll devour most of it, but leave you with just enough to remain sentient, enough so that you can appreciate your fate.'
Gale tried to spit in his face, but only managed to dribble saliva down his chin. 'The gods damn you,' he croaked again.
Yrsillar stood upright and regarded him with amused contempt. 'The gods do not damn, fool, nor do they bless. They manipulate. This is where those manipulations have brought you,' his mouth twisted into a snarl, 'Champion.'
Yrsillar reached for him.
Though it took a supreme effort of will, Gale did not try to squirm away. He would not give Yrsillar the satisfaction of seeing him afraid. He would die defiant.
Reflexively, he threw the only thing he had left. The felt mask.
'To the Hells with you,' he said.
A bird of cloth, the mask fluttered through the air and softly struck Yrsillar on the chestWithout warning, the air around the demon lord exploded in a blast of silvery-gray light. A roaring sound filled Gale's ears. A sphere of energy encapsulated the demon lord, sizzling and burning him. He roared in pain, reached for Gale in a rage, but the energy held him shackled.
Shielding his eyes, Gale scooted away.
Yrsillar's roars grew more and more pained, his promises more and more dire. The sizzling intensified. 'You will suffer an eternity of pain, Erevis Gale! I shall peel your soul like an onion and devour you over the course of millennia. I shall-'
The cascade of silver energy grew brighter and brighter until it reached a sparkling, sizzling crescendo.
'No!' roared Yrsillar, and swung his arms wildly against his confinement. It was a futile effort.
With the suddenness of a lightning strike, the demon's translucent form was torn from the suddenly slack body of the Righteous Man. The mortal separated from the demonic with the sound of ripping cloth. The guildmaster's body fell to the ground unmoving. Yrsillar's writhing demonic form, still contained in the silver energy, was blown across the shrine and into the gate. His screams of rage and pain diminished as his body grew smaller and smaller.
The gate snapped shut with a sudden pop, the sound as final as a funeral dirge. Another such pop sounded from the hallway outside the shrine as that gate closed. Within seconds, the ubiquitous pulsing had ceased. All the gates in the guildhouse must have closed.
Gale looked around stupefied, dazed. The shrine was empty and silent.
It took a few moments to register. Yrsillar was gone. They had won. The realization affected him strangely. He fell back and tried to laugh, but managed only a pained grimace. He wasn't yet ready for laughter. Emotion flooded him though-not happiness, but something he couldn't quite put a name to. His eyes welled. He blinked away the tears.
How? he wondered, but already knew the answer.
Mask had banished Yrsillar, or Gale had banished Yrsillar with the power of Mask. It no longer mattered which. He was now a man of faith.
I accept, you bastard, he thought with a half-smile. I accept.
He lay still and let his emotions run their course. After a few moments, he recovered himself enough to climb unsteadily to his feet. Jak needed him.
He staggered along the aisle, past the body of the Righteous Man. The guildmaster's abdomen gaped from where Gale had slashed it open. The rest of the body looked shrunken and dried out, sucked empty. The felt mask lay on the floor beside it. Gale stooped to retrieve it.
'Caaale,' the Righteous Man croaked.
Startled, Cale jerked back.
'Gale…' A thin arm tried to move, failed, and instead a bony finger beckoned.
After a moment's hesitation, Cale moved forward and knelt beside his former guildmaster. 'I'm here.'
The Righteous Man's eyes fluttered open. Cale gave a start-the sockets sat empty, mere pink holes in his sunken, wrinkled face.
Cale resisted the impulse to touch him, to give him comfort. He felt no affection for the guildmaster, only a distant anger. 'What happened? How-'
'You're the Champion,' the Righteous Man whispered.
'I am,' Cale acknowledged. With his good hand, he picked up the felt mask and placed it in his pocket. 'I am.' There was nothing more to be said. Jak needed him. He started to rise, but the Righteous Man gripped him by the forearm with surprising strength.
'Wait, Erevis,' he wheezed.
The Righteous Man's touch was dry and cold.
'I'm not afraid to die. I'm at peace with the Shadow-lord now. I see his plan.' He coughed a bloody foam
