Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [78]
The thing’s wings were faster. They crashed in on him from either side like battering rams. The blow turned the deva sideways and nearly spun him off his feet. Chant feared Demascus was going to drop his sword. The pawnbroker plunged his hand into the quiver of bolts he wore on his thigh, trying to select one bolt in particular by feel.
Then Riltana was beside the deva, holding her short sword like a pike. She lunged and put another hole in the creature. Blood spurted from the wound. The manticore tried to bite her head off in retaliation. She danced back, remaining just out of its range.
Demascus swayed, shaking his head, apparently trying to clear away the aftereffects of the buffeting wings. Chant fumbled his bolt, and cursed. The manticore crouched low, as if preparing to spring at the disoriented deva.
The manticore’s tail rattled again, as it had before it sent its first salvo. Sharkbite! Demascus is too confused to take cover! He opened his mouth to cry warning, but another command sounded first.
“Goliath, break! Muzzle it!” The strange voice cracked with authority.
The manticore’s lethal rattle died to a rustle, and the beast’s wings pulled in to fold across its back. A low growl sounded as it bared its teeth at Demascus. Then it began inching forward as if pulling on an unseen leash.
“I said muzzle! Stand down, Goliath, these are not enemies!” came the voice again. Wait, he thought, that’s … Lieutenant Leheren’s voice!
The lieutenant emerged from one of the dark passages, the lantern gripped in one hand showing a bare flicker of flame. A long sword occupied her other hand. She said, “Goliath, down; save your strength until I command it!”
The bestial, almost humanoid face grimaced. Then it growled, “As you wish.”
Chant blinked. The thing could speak! He’d missed that in his reading.
The manticore sat back on its haunches and began to lick its wounds.
“Lieutenant,” said Demascus, surprise evident in his tone. “What’re you doing down here? I thought you were dead.”
Leheren’s red leather jacket was burned and as black as if she’d been rolling in ash. Her face was smudged, and her hands were so filthy she might as well have purposefully coated them in coal dust. Her eyes were sunken from exhaustion. She’d obviously seen a few things since she’d asked him and Demascus to check out the fire mage’s demesne.
She said, “I’m trying to figure out where the traitors are in my organization. What are you doing here?”
“We’re … trying to do the same thing, I guess,” Demascus replied.
The genasi only half-lowered her sword. She said, “And how do I know you’re not in league with the bastards who tried to take over the Cabal from inside?”
“Only by our actions, I guess,” said Demascus. “We’re here to help.” A good answer, Chant thought. He nodded in agreement, trying to make his face as sincere as possible for the lieutenant’s assessment.
She lowered her sword and said, “I see a silverstar accompanies you.”
“I do,” confirmed Carmenere.
Chant moved up to stand next to Demascus. He said, “Lieutenant, you look ill-used. Are you all right?”
Leheren gestured around at the ruined basement and growled, “What do you think?”
“Sorry,” he said. Then, “You said traitors are in your organization. So you know …”
Leheren’s shoulders slumped. She leaned against the wall and wiped at her forehead with a filthy jacket sleeve. She said, “Yes, I know. The deputy commander wanted me to find out for certain who among the command staff were involved.”
“What did you determine?” asked Demascus.
“I’ve determined that the reason demonic monsters are popping up randomly in Airspur is because a handful of Cabal members are responsible. Under the guise of regular activities, they’ve secretly been setting up some sort of cult!”
“Is someone named Kalkan involved?” Demascus asked. If Kalkan was tied to the cult, then he could start to make some sense—
Leheren shook her head. “I’ve never heard that name before. Should I have?”
Demascus sighed. “No. Well, maybe. He’s involved in this somehow