With a grunt, Tylar yanked his blade free. The beast fell, convulsing on the stone floor. A hissing wail flowed forth. Even in death, the creature remained a monster, its human self burned away forever by corrupted Grace.
Tylar felt a mix of sorrow and fury. What could drive someone to yield all of themselves to such a defilement? He remembered Darjon’s shout. Myrillia will be free! He stepped over the dead body. She was certainly free now.
The battle raged. The air reeked of burst bowels and blood. The room echoed with wails and shrieks of the raving.
But Tylar dared not call forth his daemon. With fighting in such close quarters, friend as well as foe could find themselves brushed with the deadly touch of the naethryn. So he fought, Rogger on one side, Kathryn on the other. Gerrod and Eylan were another island of resistance across the room.
“Make for the door!” he yelled. “We’ll hold them off better in the hall!”
But his order was understood by the ilk-beasts, too. Though the men and woman had forsaken themselves to this fate, some semblance of human cognition remained. The pack of beasts surged toward the door, cutting off their retreat. The way was slammed shut.
More beasts clawed and crawled through the windows. Was there no end to Chrism’s slavering army? How many had given themselves to this false god?
With a grunt, Rogger went down on one knee, his shoulder ripped to shreds by a lash of claw, his stave knocked from his fingers.
Tylar used a backhanded blow with the hilt of his sword to crack the ilk-beast in the face. It fell back.
Rogger gained his feet. Kathryn passed him a dagger.
“We can’t hold them,” she said. “We’re being swamped.”
With each death, the floor grew slicker with blood, each step more treacherous. And it was not only the beasts’ blood that stained it. They all bore cuts and scrapes.
Tylar found his vision narrowing. Fear and fury had helped fuel his fight, but there were limits. He had lost too much blood earlier, had had too little time to recover. His heel slipped in a pool of blood. He fell into the arms of one of the beasts, a squat toadish man with bony spines growing from his skin. Tylar felt himself speared across arms and chest.
As he struggled to free himself, the creature suddenly jerked, spasmed, and released Tylar. He fell to Tylar’s toes, a dagger hilt protruding from the back of his neck, impaled to the brain.
Tylar matched gazes with Eylan. Even while fighting her own host of monsters, she had thrown the dagger with unerring accuracy, protecting her charge, doing her duty.
He nodded his thanks and raised his blade as another beast lunged for his throat. He struck out with his elbow, catching the creature across the nose. Then stabbed upward with his other hand, fingers wrapped around his dagger. He shoved the blade under the beast’s rib cage, driving through to the heart. It gasped and choked. He kneed the beast away from him.
Enough.
“To the walls!” he called out. “Backs to the walls!”
The beasts could not block such a general order.
Tylar and the others cut a swath, retreating to the stone walls. Tylar, Rogger, and Kathryn found spots on one side of the room, Eylan and Gerrod on the other.
“I must loose the beast,” Tylar said to Kathryn and Rogger. “Stay as low as possible.”
“ ’Bout time,” Rogger grumbled.
Kathryn cast out shadows to shield them.
Working quickly, Tylar sheathed his dagger, grabbed his smallest finger with his other hand, braced himself, then snapped the digit clean backward. Agony flamed his hand like a hammer strike.
Nothing else happened.
Rogger looked on. “Only popped it out of place. Let me help.”
Tylar glanced up in time to see the hilt of Rogger’s dagger aiming for his face. He could’ve ducked, but didn’t. The iron hilt struck him square in the nose. He heard the crush of bone at the back of his skull.
It echoed outward, rattling through his body.
Though he was prepared, the agony was no less than before. Each break was fresh, each snap ripped flesh. He fell to his knees, which broke before even striking stone.
“Get clear!” he screamed as he felt the buildup behind his rib cage. Then those bones broke, too.
The daemon sailed forth, through the same hole it had burned in his clothes earlier. With its escape, bones reset and healed, callused and misaligned.
Tylar’s vision opened enough to see Kathryn and Rogger falling to the walls on either side. The naethryn smoked from his body, spreading wings and stretching its neck.
Ilk-beasts still had enough humanity in them to know terror. The creatures fled from the daemon’s path as it settled to the stone floor on smoky claws and legs. Fiery eyes scanned the room.
Across the way, even those beasts that had been attacking Eylan and Gerrod gave pause, backing in panic from the dark newcomer. Several fled back out the window.
Tylar straightened, sensing a change in the tide of battle. “Make for the door,” he urged.
They all began sliding along the walls.
Not all the ilk-beasts were cowed by the naether-spawn’s appearance. Several leaped with piercing shrieks. Tylar smiled grimly. Their deaths would not be pleasant.
But the beasts crashed through the naethryn as if the daemon were ordinary woodsmoke. They came out the far side, unharmed. The yellowish fire in their eyes remained just as fierce.
Gerrod called from across the way as the two parties converged on the door. “Their corrupted Grace shields them! The naethryn’s Grace is a match to their own. It cannot harm them!”
“Now he tells us,” Rogger griped.
All around the room, the pack of ilk-beasts took heart from their braver few. They rushed at the party pinned to the walls, with little maneuverability.
Tylar tried to raise his sword, but his misshapen curl of fingers could not grip it. The sword fell and clanged against the stone floor. He couldn’t defend himself.
Beasts closed upon them, swamping them.
Dart shoved Laurelle behind her as the ilk-beast stalked down the hall. “Get to the stairs!”
“But-”
“Get Yaellin!” she yelled.
Dart knew they couldn’t both flee. The beast would be upon them before they could reach the stair. Someone had to hold it off.
Laurelle must’ve understood this, too. She didn’t argue further and ran down the hall.
The mottle-skinned beast twitched, watching Laurelle flee. But it did not pursue. There was easier prey. It lowered its head, snarling, revealing a maw of sharp fangs. A slight black pall steamed from its pores, along with the scent of burning blood. Black Grace burned through its flesh.
Dart sought any weapon, any means to escape. The only objects in the halls were a row of chairs along either wall. Dart had sat in those same chairs as she waited for her purity to be tested. Then, too, she had been terrified.
Creeping backward, Dart kicked and shoved the chairs into the hallway. But the monster simply bulled through them.
Distantly, she heard Laurelle’s cry for help. Aid would never reach Dart in time.
The monster knew this, too-and leaped.
It flew headlong through the air.
With no retreat, Dart dove forward.
Under the beast. Under one of the scattered chairs.
The beast, ill prepared for such an unexpected move, twisted in midair. Its hindquarters smashed atop the chair. Dart scrambled free as the wooden legs snapped like saplings. She rolled past the creature’s rear.
The beast thrashed around, kicking and slashing at the tangle of chairs.
Dart glanced back to the healing chamber. Its door had been slammed closed moments ago. And even if it
