Rhyzkahl’s eyes locked on me. I smiled and flipped him the bird while continuing to trace, and I also pulled more grove power. We were fucked. I had no doubt about that. Best I could do was keep on doing what I was doing.
Rhyzkahl bared his teeth and held up his right hand in a motion I knew would call his blade to him. His hand moved stiffly and without any of its normal fluid grace, and when he opened his fingers to receive the blade, it exposed an ugly, ropey scar.
I laughed out loud at the sight of it. I knew damn well how he’d gotten it—when Mzatal had sent potency through the blade in order to disrupt the torture ritual and save me.
“Fuck you, you worthless piece of shit!” I shouted at him. “Guess you’ll have to learn to jack off with your other hand!” What the hell, I might as well have some fun before we all died horrible deaths.
I felt Mzatal at the other end of our bond, balancing me out with deadly and silent potency as he wove sigils into a complex pattern in preparation for the lords’ approach.
The blade coalesced into Rhyzkahl’s hand.
I sucked in a breath as the name smothered me and slid through my essence. I faltered in the construction of a sigil, trembling to my very core. The entire ritual flickered and dimmed as I stared, stricken, at the unfinished sigil.
My eyes snapped to Mzatal. He wasn’t looking at me, but I knew that touch had come from him. The name drifted before me like a life preserver before a drowning person. In that instant I knew I had a choice.
“I. Am.
“Not for much longer.” Rhyzkahl didn’t shout or seem to raise his voice, but the words carried to me as if he’d used a megaphone.
I flipped him off again and continued flowing through the ritual, though I did check the perimeters of the diagram to be extra super sure they were secure. Rhyzkahl advanced on Mzatal, Jesral to his right rear by only a pace. My hope that they’d engage singly evaporated. Their combined potency crashed on the verge of the ritual like storm-driven surf, and I struggled to maintain both the perimeter and my connection to the ritual itself.
Sealing the ring of sigils, I ignited it. I stood silent and unmoving for a moment as the power of the growing ritual suffused me with a tingling arcane heat. My awareness expanded with the power. I could sense where everyone was in the area—five lords, two humans, and damn near too many demons to count. I sensed Amkir moving through the passage. I saw my connection to Mzatal—not like a strand but as a constant flow and melding of energy between us. We
Breathing deeply, I began work on the next ring. Only two more. I felt the blade on the periphery of my awareness, a roiling sun of power. Fear rose. Within a heartbeat I recognized it as a remnant of Elinor, made myself breathe, and separated from the reaction. With unexpectedly gratifying recognition of the blade, I bared my teeth and breathed its name.
“Mzatal.” Rhyzkahl spoke the name with dark vehemence, words carrying clearly on the sea of power. “I give you this single opportunity to return that which is
“Nothing here is yours, nor ever was,” Mzatal said, continuing to weave and trace sigils with calm, elegant speed and precision. “We offer you this single opportunity to withdraw.”
I laughed. “You don’t get to keep the toys you break,” I called out. “Didn’t your mama ever teach you that?”
Rhyzkahl turned on me and went demon-lord still. The potency surrounding him sucked in so close and tight, I thought he would break into a billion pieces if anything touched him. I locked my gaze with his and continued to weave and trace.
His stillness shifted into dynamic motion in the blink of an eye. He gave an unnerving cry as he threw his arms wide, expanding and drawing to himself the fullness of the shadow and blood of
Mzatal moved only to widen his stance, opening his left hand low and slightly out to his side, and raising his right hand open, palm toward Rhyzkahl. He gave every indication that he was acting purely in defense, but I knew from our shared connection that he had plenty of options for attack and wouldn’t hesitate to use them.
Amkir emerged from the passage and headed straight for Idris and the support diagram.
Rhyzkahl’s face revealed fury, certainty, and triumph as he brought his fully ignited blade in front of him and cast a heavy strike at Mzatal. In the split second before it reached him, Mzatal called Khatur to hand and lifted it high. The blade summoned the strike like an umbrella lightning rod, the
Rhyzkahl staggered back from the unexpected assault, shaking his head to clear it. Jesral strode forward two paces and sent a shimmering net of potency toward Mzatal. With practiced ease, Mzatal deflected the net, then moved in sweeping strides to fully engage in a perilous dance with both Jesral and Rhyzkahl.
On the other side of the courtyard I sensed Amkir moving closer to Idris and his diagram. The lord made a motion to strip the outer perimeter, but the well-constructed pattern thwarted his efforts. Amkir snarled, gaze traveling over the support diagram, the ritual, and then to Mzatal. Anger swept over his face as he realized that all were tied together. It had been a brilliant move on our part to link the diagrams and support together when we’d assumed that at most we’d be facing one lord. But now I worried. Four lords was an entirely different story. Mzatal currently handled Jesral and Rhyzkahl masterfully, especially with the support from Idris and his ability to draw on the grove power through me.
What the hell was Vahl doing? He hung back near the palace wall, a good thirty feet or so from either Rhyzkahl or Amkir. But Amkir, unopposed, had all the time in the world to pick apart Idris’s circle, and he did so now, prowling around its perimeter, unweaving a strand at a time.
I cursed under my breath and tried to channel power toward Idris and his diagram so that he could reinforce his defenses, but I wasn’t sure it was working. I watched Amkir warily and nurtured the connection with Mzatal. Amkir’s eyes were on Idris, dark and intense as he sent spikes of disruptive energy toward him.
“Dispel your perimeter, little summoner,” Amkir said with a sneer. “And this will not hurt nearly as much.”
Idris merely scowled, continuing to maintain the perimeter and tend the support core. His scowl seemed weirdly familiar, but I couldn’t spare the focus to try to place it. I finished the ring of sigils and locked it down before igniting it. One more. The blade blazed clearly in othersight. Tears stung my eyes, surprising me with their onset and the sense of kinship that accompanied them.
My entire circle wavered abruptly, as if in a brownout, and I hesitated in the preparations for the final ring.