Sword of the Gods - Bruce R. Cordell [85]
Torches lit the hallway, making the shadows dance and die too quickly for him to grasp them. All except for the shadow of the Veil tied around his sword.
The shadow of his scarf seemed to extend like a black ribbon, undulating in a cold wind that blew across a dark echo of the corridor in the real world. What in the name of all the dominions am I seeing?
Portalbreaker’s remaining clawed limb beat aside Leheren’s sword and fastened around her neck. Her mouth opened in a soundless gasp and her eyes went wide. The lieutenant’s sword clattered to the ground as she scrabbled with both hands, trying to peel away the demon’s overlarge hand from around her throat.
Demascus cried, “Let her go!” and snapped the shadow of his Veil. A layer of gauzy dusk seemed to fall across the creature like a shroud.
“Oh,” he said, as he saw what was revealed.
Portalbreaker didn’t notice the billowing film loosely covering it. It continued to squeeze Leheren’s throat. Her feet kicked helplessly in the air. The demon was strong!
But … it also had its weak points. Through the lens of the shroud, the thing’s physical and spiritual anatomy communicated itself to Demascus. He saw seven points of energy glimmering beneath the creature’s flesh. Each point pulsed with a different color and pattern, and each told Demascus one truth about the Portalbreaker, revealing a potent strength, or a surprising weakness.
For instance, he saw immediately Portalbreaker couldn’t be strangled. The bluish energy point at its throat indicated it was not a bottleneck for blood and air as was the case for most living creatures.
Because … it was not really even living! It was some kind of arcane construct of mental energy, demonic ichor, and hideous will. And while swords and other weapons could eventually bring it down, like any physical entity, Portalbreaker possessed a unique vulnerability too.
A golden point of light pulsed in what would have been the solar plexus of a mortal creature. With the shroud’s aid, he saw the spot was a complex knot of energies, looped around and around each other like a seamstress ties off thread.
Demascus glided forward and punched his sword into the creature’s back all the way to the hilt, so that the tip punctured the golden point.
Portalbreaker’s eyes all flared instantly, sending shafts of scarlet light in all dierctions. Its legs lost their strength. The monster crumbled, and its eyes flickered out.
Leheren fell from its claw and struck the ground at the same time as the demon. She lay worryingly still.
The piece of gloom he’d thrown across the monster was gone. Or his ability to discern it had fled. Not that he needed the shroud any longer. The monster began evaporating.
He rushed to Leheren. She wasn’t breathing.
“Lords of light, aid me!” he whispered, and patted his belt for one of Chant’s healing doses.
He saw Riltana run a firesoul through with her short sword, then leap away from the counterstroke like a leaf on the wind. Carmenere laid about her with a mace that glimmered with moonglow. Chant had taken cover behind an overturned torturer’s rack and was firing his hand crossbow at cultists who remained in one place too long. They were holding off the press, thanks in part to the narrow corridor—
“Demascus.”
He jerked his gaze around and saw Jett. The traitor stood with his hands out to either side. Why hadn’t he joined the fight?
“Your demon’s dead,” said Demascus. His questing fingers kept searching for a tiny glass ampule of blue fluid on his belt. He was sure he’d grabbed one …
Jett said, “Murmur can make more, each one twice as awful. It builds them from nightmares. Murmur’s created a whole cadre of them.” The genasi at his side, Garel, nodded in agreement, though he had none of Jett’s insouciance.
“Ah. Well, where is Murmur? And all his nightmare demons? And let’s stop with the code names—I know Murmur is the deputy commander.” Demascus knew no such thing, but maybe he could lure Jett into confirming Murmur’s identity.
Jett shook his head, “It,