Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [22]
Caelan realized he had swum through the souls of damned men. Dear Gault, small wonder the water had burned his flesh and rendered him so cold now. He felt tainted to the core. Shivering, Caelan looked down at himself, wondering if he could see any stains left by the touch of those icy waters.
“Thou art one of us. Thou art welcome in the place of shadows,” the demon said while the others chorused hisses and grunts of acclamation. “Not for a thousand years has one of warm blood come to walk among us. We give to thee all that is ours.”
Caelan’s eyes narrowed. “You lie,” he said sharply, forgetting the need for caution. “What of the riders who passed through here not long ago? What of the Vindicants, the priests who have used this passageway often?”
The demons whispered among themselves long enough for Caelan to regret his hasty questions. Then the spokesman gazed up at him and bared its fangs. “Man-spawn have no interest for us. Under the spell of protection, they pass by on the other side of the river. They are not our meat. Kostimon has gone past many times in his span of years.”
“You know Kostimon by name?” Caelan asked in fresh astonishment.
The demons’ laughter was a harsh, raspy cacophony.
“Kostimon the Doomed!” one cried.
“He is doomed!” echoed another.
“Doomed!”
They all laughed again.
The spokesman edged even closer to Caelan and tugged at the sodden hem of his cloak. “Kostimon,” it said, its tongue flickering out, “will be our meat when his time ends. Soon, he will be ours. We will be permitted to go for him. We will feed. Soon!”
“Soon! Soon! Soon!” the others echoed in chorus.
Caelan felt colder than ever. He stared at these creatures and understood how the emperor would finally die.
“When we have taken his soul from his flesh,” the demon said, rubbing its snout affectionately against Caelan’s leg, “wilt thou accept the honor of pouring his soul into Aithe’s waters of the damned?”
Caelan gazed down into the demon’s red eyes, feeling almost mesmerized. Eagerly the others crowded closer around him, and Caelan found himself without an answer.
The silence stretched out too long, and they hissed suspiciously.
“If I am here,” Caelan said quickly, “then I will accept the honor extended to me.” He met their hostile eyes and tried to show no fear. “I have many duties. My master gives me many tasks.”
“Let us help thee, favored one,” the demon said eagerly, its tongue flickering in and out. “Let us make thy work easier.”
Swallowing hard, Caelan pointed at Elandra. “I must take the woman beyond this realm of shadow, back into the world that is her own.”
The demons hissed in fury. “Not permitted!” the spokesman said. “No man-spawn goes this way. We guard the passage to the Gate of Sorrows.”
Hope quickened in Caelan. He stared at the passageway, and knew it had to be the way out. “If Kostimon has gone through here, then—”
“No! No! No!” they chorused. “No man-spawn crosses Aithe. Only thou, servant of Beloth.”
Caelan frowned. “Then let me pass,” he said carefully.
They shifted aside, red eyes glowing with new hostility. “Thou may go to the Guardian, if thou has been sent by thy master. But not her.”
“She must come with me,” Caelan said sharply.
“No!”
“You have called me master, yet now you disobey me.”
They did not seem impressed by his rebuke.
“Let us wage war for thee,” the spokesman said at last. “Let us tear souls from man-spawn and bring them for thy supper. Unleash us, and we will go swift, swift under the dark cloud that mighty Beloth brings to shroud the earth.”
Caelan hesitated, trying to be careful. “Are you leashed?”
They hissed loudly, crowding him again.
The spokesman spat eloquently, and its spittle flamed and sizzled briefly upon the stony ground. “We guard this passage, but others can guard. We can swarm,”