its attackers.
Alric drew his sword with a crisp metallic scrape. It lay heavy and perfect in his hands, impossibly long and slender, the cutting edge glowing with its own golden light. He looked at it sadly. His beautiful Dunelle, Last Sunlight, his partner and treasure. If this strike succeeded, it would probably be her last. From the way the hilt pressed into his palm, she knew it. But she shone as brightly as ever, urging him to strike the blow. Alric tightened his grip. She had been his best sword; he owed her a valorous death.
Sensing danger, the demon stopped eating. It coiled itself on what was left of the sandy arena floor, enormous claws flexed and ready, its jaw open and drooling around its horrible, ragged teeth.
“On my mark,” Alric said, raising his glowing blade. “Three. Two. One—”
As the word left his mouth, a whistling scream drowned out his voice. He threw his head back just in time to see something white crashing through the buildings behind him. It flew screeching over his head and into the arena, striking the demon square in the chest.
The demon’s scream ripped through Alric’s mind as the ground rocked under his feet. The shock wave hit him a second later, knocking him over. Alric’s hands went instinctively to cover his face as he landed hard on his side, buried instantly by the wave of dirt, rocks, and broken swords that flew out from the impact. For a moment, he lay there, stunned, and then he began to thrash, kicking himself to his feet and scrubbing the dirt from his eyes just in time to see something enormous, white, and sharp-toothed running across the ruined city toward him.
“Alric, isn’t it?” said a familiar, female voice. “Are you all right?”
Alric looked up to see a ghosthound staring down at him, and on its back was a redheaded woman with a concerned expression on her face.
“Miranda Lyonette,” he said, coughing. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your neck, League man,” the ghosthound growled, nodding toward the center of the arena.
Alric turned to look. The place where the demon had been crouching seconds earlier was now nothing but an enormous crater. He stared at it for a second, not quite believing what he saw.
“What did that?”
Miranda grinned and pointed behind him. Slowly, Alric turned around and his eyes went wide. Standing on the rim of the canyon that surrounded the bandit city was Heinricht Slorn. He was crouched on one knee, holding something on his shoulder that Alric didn’t have a name for. Nearly as long as Slorn was tall, it was metal and hollow, like a tube. It had two legs in front that dug into the ground at Slorn’s feet to brace its weight, but its back was a nest of piping that hooked to an enormous wagon, which was absolutely covered with water. Even at this distance, Alric could see the blue water arcing in and out of a dozen different containers, moving against gravity and glowing with its own watery light.
Alric shook his head and sheathed his sword. Of course Slorn was here. He should have known it would all come together. At the canyon’s edge, Slorn lowered the metal tube from his shoulder and hopped into the water- filled cart. The cart began to move as soon as he was in, climbing down into the valley on spindly spider legs. It picked its way over the wreckage and came to a stop at the arena’s edge. The cart knelt and Slorn climbed down, landing stiffly beside Miranda.
“Well,” the Shaper said, staring at the crater. “That worked rather well.”
“Quite,” Alric said. “Mind telling me what you did?”
Slorn reached into the bag slung across his chest and took out a white object. It was the size of a small melon, slightly longer than it was round, and sharpened to a rough point at one end. Its surface was smooth, like carved soap, and from the way Slorn held it, Alric could tell it must be very heavy indeed.
“What is it?”
“Bone metal,” Slorn said. “Rather amazing stuff, really.”
“And inedible by demons,” Alric finished. “Very clever. But how did you do that?” He pointed at the destroyed buildings.
Slorn gave him an astonished look. “Water pressure,” he said, like it should be obvious. “Spiritualist Lyonette was kind enough to lend me the use of her sea.”
Alric glanced at the blue water that was still flowing in great arcs from barrel to barrel and smiled. “You made a bone-metal shot for a water cannon powered by a sea?”
“Can you think of a better way to take down a demon as powerful as Sted?” Slorn said.
“Yes,” Alric said. “But in the absence of the Lord of Storms, I’ll take your solution. In the future, though, Heinricht, I’d appreciate it if you left League business to the League, or at least told us what you meant to do before you did it.”
Slorn had the good grace to look abashed at that, and Alric stood up to survey the damage. The other League men were getting up as well, many slowly, some clutching broken bones. But they obeyed instantly when Alric motioned for them to form a perimeter around the crater. Once his men were in position, Alric moved forward, keeping his hand on his sword as he crawled up the crater’s edge to peek into the hole Slorn’s cannon had left.
The demon lay sprawled at the bottom of the crater, motionless. Its long, unnatural arms were flung spread-eagle, the left one shattered below the second elbow. The demon’s head was bent backward at a hideous angle and surrounded by broken teeth while its chest was caved in completely, the shell-like skin shattered around the bone-metal slug, which had passed straight through the ribs to lodge in the creature’s spine.
Alric was still studying the damage when he heard a scrape on the dirt. He turned to see Miranda lying next to him, staring wide-eyed into the crater.
“Is it dead?” she whispered.
“A demon is never dead until you take its seed, Spiritualist,” Alric said. “You can watch if you like, but do not interfere.”
He could see her starting to ask what he meant, but Alric gave her no chance. He stood up and signaled to his men. They nodded, and the League members began to move slowly down into the crater. When they were in arm’s reach of the demon, Alric drew his sword. He could see the seed’s edge through the demon’s shattered chest, a black, wet, oblong shape just below the heart, wrapped in bloody tissue. Alric cursed under his breath. Most seeds were a few inches long, never more than six. If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, this seed was over a foot. No wonder the demon had given them so much trouble. He didn’t even want to think about what would have happened if this seed had awakened in a wizard instead of a spirit-deaf lug like Sted. Seeing the reality of the situation, Alric began to regret all the times he’d championed Slorn’s research. If he’d known that something like this was living inside Nivel, he would have killed the woman himself.
He held his sword out, slipping the point deftly inside the demon’s shattered chest. But just as he was about to press his blade against the sinew connecting the seed to the host body, he heard the faint sound of a sucked-in breath.
Alric threw himself back, snatching his sword out just in time to block the enormous black claw before it landed in his head. The demon launched itself up with a earth-shaking roar, its shattered arm flopping helpless at its side as its good claw pulled on Alric’s blade. Alric tried to yank his sword free, but the creature slid its claws down the blade to grab Alric’s arm. The claws dug into his flesh, and the monster lifted him clean off the ground. He barely had time to kick before it threw him as hard as it could.
Alric tucked and rolled, landing on his feet at the edge of the crater. But even as he caught his balance, he heard a hideous crunching as the demon grabbed one of his men and shoved him, sword and all, into its mouth. The other League members cried out and charged, hacking at the demon with their screaming swords. The demon ignored them. It simply kept eating, pushing Alric’s lieutenant between its broken teeth as it devoured the man whole.
“The head!” Alric shouted, charging back down the crater. “Take off the head!”
But it was too late. The moment the lieutenant vanished down the monster’s throat, its wounds began to heal. Its broken arm snapped itself back together with a hideous cracking of bones, and the gaping hole in its chest began to knit together. The League men were still attacking, but the sword wounds closed as soon as they were made, and each new strike injured the sword more than the monster it struck.
“Fall back!” Alric shouted, grabbing the nearest soldier.
His men scrambled back, and the demon rolled to its feet, screaming as a fresh wave of demon panic washed out of the crater.
“Alric!” Slorn shouted.
