The Legend of Eli Monpress(362)

Benehime smiled at this, running her white fingers gently across her sphere. Behind her, the claws began to press more fiercely on the walls of her world while, down on the ground, the demon grew larger.





CHAPTER

19




Sir!” one of the League men shouted, grabbing Alric by the sleeve. “It’s no good, sir. We can’t hold him down.”

Alric didn’t need to be told. He had his will on the demon as well, and he could feel for himself just how useless it was. The ability to command the spirits to hold down a demon regardless of their own safety was a power the Shepherdess herself granted to the League, but its weakness was that the command was only as strong as the spirits who obeyed it. Here, even with the bedrock spirits helping, it wasn’t enough, not for this demon.

Down in the spike pit that had been the arena, the demon roared and batted at the League men who sliced at it. Whenever it touched their swords, large chunks disappeared from the blades, and the demon grew larger. Already, the monster was close to twelve feet tall and showed no sign of stopping. Alric sighed in frustration, shoving his own sword back into its sheath.

“Stop attacking!” he shouted. “It’s no good. We’re only wasting our swords.”

The League stopped its attack at once, forming a loose circle around the demon, who, now that it was no longer being attacked, turned and began to eat the bedrock spikes.

“Sir!” One of his lieutenants ran over. “We have to do something. If it keeps eating like this, the demon will soon be too large to contain.”

“It’s already too large to contain,” Alric said, watching the stone writhe as the monster bit into it. Rage washed over him. He’d faced hundreds of awakened seeds in his long years with the League, but this one was different. Different and familiar.

“This isn’t a normal takedown,” Alric said. “This is the seed that was in Slorn’s wife. I’d know it anywhere.”

His lieutenant grimaced. “I thought Slorn’s wife was contained.”

“Apparently even the world’s greatest Shaper couldn’t contain a demon indefinitely,” Alric said dryly. “What I want to know is what it’s doing here, and why it’s in Sted’s body.”

“Sted?” His lieutenant recoiled. “Berek Sted?”

“Who else?” Alric said. “Stop panicking and you can feel his soul clear as day, what’s left of it anyway.”

“But Sted was spirit deaf. How—”

“I don’t know,” Alric snapped. “But it’s thanks to his not being a wizard that this situation isn’t any worse than it is. Though his being here with Nivel’s seed nicely explains what happened to our missing swordsmith.” He sincerely hoped Slorn wasn’t dead. Artisans like him were impossible to replace.

“All right,” Alric said. “We’re dealing with a seed that spent ten years germinating inside the body of a powerful wizard, but is now trapped inside a spirit-deaf shell. That is our only advantage. The devouring force is already too strong for awakened blades or spirit commands, and because the seed is lodged in a human, directly commanding the host spirit is out of the question.” As always, he thought with a sigh.

“We need the Lord of Storms,” his lieutenant muttered, his face pale as he watched the demon finish the stone pillar and leap to the next one. “Where in blazes is he?”

Alric wanted to know the same thing. The Lord of Storms had left in a hurry a week ago and hadn’t been heard from since. This happened sometimes, but never for this long, and never without a message. Still, Alric kept his mouth shut. Things were bad enough without panicking his men.

“We can handle this,” he said, clapping his lieutenant on the shoulder. “We are the chosen protectors of the world, blessed by the Shepherdess herself. She would not have given us our gifts if we were not able to handle whatever situation arose.”

“Yes, sir,” the man said, gripping his sword with renewed determination.

Alric smiled and released his grip, hoping he hadn’t just told the biggest lie of his career.

“Spread out,” he ordered. “We’re going to take the creature down in one strike, before it can eat our swords. I will deal the cutting blow to the chest that frees the seed. The rest of you focus on its joints. Try to take off the limbs, just like in drill.”

“Yes, sir!” the men shouted, fanning out in a circle.

Alric positioned himself at point, directly in front of the demon, who was still feeding with little attention to its attackers.

Alric drew his sword with a crisp metallic scrape. It lay heavy and perfect in his hands, impossibly long and slender, the cutting edge glowing with its own golden light. He looked at it sadly. His beautiful Dunelle, Last Sunlight, his partner and treasure. If this strike succeeded, it would probably be her last. From the way the hilt pressed into his palm, she knew it. But she shone as brightly as ever, urging him to strike the blow. Alric tightened his grip. She had been his best sword; he owed her a valorous death.