Kingshold Read online

  “It seems I underestimated you, girl. You have talent…” The demon stared intently at the man as he danced in place, eventually rubbing away at the rune until the shimmering translucent wall around the demon disappeared. “Ah, freedom!” Barax stretched her arms wide, and she seemed to grow in height and width. “So now, my liberator, what is it you would have?”

  “I’ll take the amulet around your neck.”

  “No. I will not give that up. Choose something else.” The demon took a step forward past the cultist who had slumped over but remained upright.

  “I’m afraid that is all I want. And you made an oath, Barax. Do the oaths of demon queens mean nothing anymore?”

  “I made you an oath on my freedom, on my ability to go back to my world, and my home. I need this bauble to do that. With what you ask, then I am cursed either way.”

  Shit. Neenahwi knew this demon was not the brightest, but Barax was catching up now; she was cornered. Facing off against a cornered panther was not a fun way to spend a weekday. Doing the same with a panther demon is a death sentence for most. Neenahwi knew she likely had five seconds to be ready for the assault, and be ready with her offense. Withdrawing further into her mind, she fractured it once, twice, three times more, ready to—

  —on the three-second mark, the demon roared and leaped toward Neenahwi, teeth bared, claws outstretched, a look of madness on the crazed feline visage. However, the cultist had snapped to attention and a fighting stance a second before, no longer the shambling laughing stock. The cultist stood on the blind side of Barax, and so, the demon did not see as the cultist dove to tackle it to the ground.

  The demon spun, and with one claw, ripped the head from the cultist, his body thrown across the floor. Barax got to her feet, but so did the body of the cultist, only a little blood bubbling up from its broken neck, and the walking corpse positioned itself between Neenahwi and beast.

  On the count of five, the three arrows Neenahwi held in her hands lifted into the air, twisting to point toward their target. A separate aspect of her mind controlled each missile, creating a thread from her own oh-so-valuable and oh-so-finite life force to enable the deliberately constructed items to ignore the laws of gravity. Each arrow paused for a split second and pointed at Barax before flying off in various arcs.

  The demon moved forward intent on rending the former cultist limb from limb, to stop this annoyance so it could move to kill Neenahwi.

  She realized it was always going to end this way. The demon was cursed now, forever bereft of its home, and now it just wanted to get at the bitch which had caused it. She didn’t blame it.

  It took one step forward, and then the first arrow flew down from the cavern’s unlit ceiling, moving at tremendous speed and hitting it in the breast. The arrow pierced the demon’s skin, and without a reduction in speed, continued to travel through its torso, exiting around the small of its back. The sharp razor flights on the arrow inflicted greater damage as the missile sliced through. The demon roared as the second arrow came from behind and punctured a kneecap, bringing it to the floor. The third bolt adjusted its flight as its target fell, and it came down to bury itself in the back of the panther’s skull, a metal on stone snick as the arrow tip made contact with the smooth granite surface of the floor.

  Moments passed. The demon’s chest heaved. Brown blood oozed onto the floor around its chest and knee. In the momentary lull, Neenahwi became aware of a sound coming from elsewhere underground, a distant rumbling. Hopefully it was nothing more than an underground river she hadn’t noticed before because there was still life in Barax.

  The demon clambered to its feet, lower leg below the broken knee impossibly twisted but still, somehow, holding the weight of the beast. Feline teeth clenched around the arrow head piercing the back of its head. A clawed hand reached up and gripped the tip of the arrow, opened its jaws, and pulled the arrow through, not seeming to notice the damage the sharp tail of the missile caused in its passage. Grasping the shaft in both hands, the demon snapped it in two.

  “Nice try, little woman, but a wasp sting will not kill a panther. It’s just going to make it pissed off.”

  The dead cultist moved once again to block the demon’s progression to Neenahwi, but the demon was truly upset now. A powerful blow sent the body flying back to hit Neenahwi and knock her against the wall.

  Her concentration on the connection to the mangled cultist’s body wavered as the last of its life force flowed away. The magical forces moving the body disappeared along with the containment energies that had been keeping the body largely in one piece. Blood erupted over Neenahwi from the multiple wounds released as one, blinding her to the demon’s deliberate advance on its injured leg.

  The demon continued to track the two remaining arrows in the air, swatting at them as they neared it. Once or twice the arrows were deflected onto the floor, with a metallic ting, only to lift again into the air and buzz around Barax.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Shit.

  Neenahwi couldn’t see a way out of this without using a serious amount of personal mana. The barren cave offered no other sources of energy. This gem had better be worth it. It could take a long time to recover, and as she considered the thought of recuperating in the hot, humid, bug-infested jungle, it didn’t please her.

  But the noise from the tunnel to the south of the cavern was definitely growing louder. Not a river then. Something was getting closer.

  The sound turned out to be not so much an it as roughly two hundred its, the its being a whole tribe of jungle goblins, armed to the teeth with bows, curved swords, and notched daggers. Neenahwi sighed.

  If she could bring those cultists back to life right now, she would do it in a heartbeat. Just so she could show them how stupid they were to pick a hideout in the annex to a goblin hive where they were planning to summon a demon to do their bidding while on the wrong side of the protective wardings! She would bring them back to life, and then kill them again just for really screwing up her day.

  The appearance of scores of upset goblins did not improve Barax’s mood either, though it did distract her for a moment, especially as the first goblin arrows arced toward her. The body of the cultist provided some cover for Neenahwi, so the goblins had yet to notice her. Taking advantage of the demon’s new shift in focus, she sent the two remaining arrows toward the demon at the same time, the first parried away, but the second striking the chain of the amulet, causing it to snap. The necklace fell to the floor.

  The first arrow swooped around and threaded through the clasp of the amulet to lift it into the air and deposit it into Neenahwi’s hand. The demon tried to scramble after the amulet, but the first wave of goblins hit her at the same time. The goblins were no match for the demon: each swing of a furred, clawed arm smashed into three or four of the grey, scrawny humanoids, only for more to replace them.

  Neenahwi finished wiping the blood from her eyes and considered which way to run, because running was definitely the best course of action. She could sense some stirring of fresh air from the corridor to the north of this room, hopefully a way out and not just an air duct. She crouched, collected the aspects of her mind so she would be fully present, and then sprang from her place of cover, running for the passageway ahead.

  More goblins had joined the fight against the demon, but a few had also realized it was not a good fight to get into if you were a goblin that valued its scrawny neck. The appearance of a new figure running across the cavern that was definitely not goblin—and equally definitively, and more importantly, not demon—caused a score of goblins to break off in pursuit of Neenahwi.

  As she ran, she stole one last look at the demon that was carving its way through an entire goblin village, a demon now trapped in this world by her, and which was probably not going to die of its current wounds. But her feet pounding into the hard stone of the passageway reminded her that would be a problem for tomorrow.

  The tunnel went upwards and upwards, twisting l
eft and right—so there was no clear shot for a goblin arrow—until it eventually reached a breach in the wall. She dove into the crack, squirming her way forward, and for the first time that day, she had some luck as she burst out from a fissure in a rock face covered in jungle growth.

  She could hear the pursuing goblins scrabbling through the breach, so Neenahwi turned to run again. But with her first step, the ground fell away from her, and before she knew it, she was sliding down a muddy hillside on her backside toward an impending edge, and then into the blue of the open sky.

  Shiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt.

  Chapter 4

  Meeting The Wizard

  Alana was a slip of a girl: sparrow-like in frame and motion, head twitching to keep aware of what was happening around her so she could train her full bright eyes on what occurred. It gave her the appearance of being afraid of her surroundings, like a cat mistreated by a previous owner and becoming mistrustful of strangers; but, in fact, she was fascinated by the palace world around her.

  She had been born in Kingshold, in the area outside the second wall known as the Narrows, where the buildings were built so close together they were separated by narrow, crooked alleyways in place of roads. The unwary—who might not be familiar with that part of town, and who might stumble down those narrow passageways—would likely as not find themselves at a dead end, only to turn around and find themselves face-to-face with a few stern individuals eager to help them understand how a dead end got its name.

  But Alana had grown up in the Narrows, and she was known there by most, if not all. Known for two reasons in particular. First of all, she was the sister of Petra, the striking sort of young woman who set the hearts racing of many a red-blooded lad (or lass). The second was that folks realized Alana was smart and she could tell which way the wind was about to blow.

  If someone was to go to the building where Alana and Petra lived alone—as their parents had died some years ago of plague—and see Mrs. Skrudd, who lived next door, then she would say, “That girl, Alana, she’d make anyone proud to be her mum, she would.

  “Do you know she saw the head cook on the first day when she went to the palace? She arrived at the trader’s gate just as he was kicking out the last poor sod who had made a mistake or dropped summing, and so, she got a job scrubbing pots.

  “And then within a fortnight, she helped the head maid get rid of a mouse in her rooms, and so, she got a job cleaning above stairs. Sitting pretty she was for six months with that job.

  “Then, one day, when she was cleaning outside a room of a guest, she heard a coughing and a gurgling, like someone choking, and then you know how her eyes narrow a little when she is concentrating on summing, I’m sure she did that. She realized it was a guest in the room she was standing outside of. Me, I’d have scarpered, let me tell you. I wouldn’t want to be around when an ambassador or some hobnob kicks the bucket, but she ran in and squeezed this big man around the belly until a bit of chicken bone popped right out of his mouth. Saved his life, she did. He said he wanted to marry her, even though he was already married!

  “And then she came back here with so much food and wine from the chief steward that we had a street party! And not just that, she had been made a real maid, too, to look after guests and other important nobs. And all in less than a year. And what has my Tina done? Nuffin…”

  And so, that was how Alana came to be tidying up after breakfast in Jyuth’s room as he returned from the meeting of the privy council. Her hand was on the teapot, lifting it to her tray a moment before she looked up to stare at the doors out to the palace gardens that were the entrance to the wizard’s apartments. Jyuth walked in, his girth giving him a slight circular motion in his gait that made Alana think of a skittle unsure whether to fall or not. He wore sky blue pants and tunic, which apparently was his style.

  She hadn’t known that before last week. The other servants had sourced great amusement in her not realizing the man she had drawn the short straw to look after was the very same one from her history lessons in the one-room school she had gone to while her parents still lived.

  He wore a brown, leather belt around his middle, many pouches and containers of glass or shining silver along its length. And above each hip, attached to the belt with a unique fastening Alana had not seen before, were the two coppery metal disks she had heard could fly through the air at the wizard’s command. So sharp, they could split a hair or take a head off its shoulders…

  When Jyuth arrived at the palace a week ago, he had been dusty from the road and immediately requested a bath. Alana was drawing it when one of the king’s guards, the tall one with the long scar from elbow to thumb, had appeared at the doorway and commanded the presence of the wizard before the king. She could tell Jyuth had not been happy to be summoned in such a way, and he was positively furious on returning to his chamber a little over an hour later—by then the water for the bath had turned tepid, and Alana had to bring hot water again. For each of the next four days, she attended to the old man’s needs (she had calculated he was at least 958 years old, even though he didn’t look a day over fifty) in between his times meditating in an antechamber or meeting with other prominent people. Daily, he would meet with the king, and it would leave him incensed or have him muttering and shaking his head on his return, which would then require a period of meditation to bring him a certain measure of calm.

  And then on the sixth day, when she had arrived in the morning with his breakfast, she had found the room empty, and it had remained so all day. That was the day before yesterday. Yesterday morning being when Jyuth had returned to the palace and strode directly to the king’s quarters without being summoned. Alana had heard from Sarah—who knew one of the palace guards a little too well (especially considering he was betrothed)—that the old man had calmly strode up to the king and queen at their breakfast table. They always began their day with wine and a smoke while the lord chancellor—that empty man who wore the robes of his father, according to Sarah—read to them the news from the city and the realm beyond. The way she told it was Jyuth whispered something to the king and queen, their faces changing from indignation at being interrupted to that of shock and fear. And then, those very same copper circles he wore at his belt had risen in the air before moving so fast they were a blur of orange, and then red as they sliced through the necks of the royal couple.

  The guards on duty, taken by surprise, had apparently hesitated, caught between protecting their liege and his wife—which they were too late to do anything about—and protecting their necks. Luckily for them, it gave the lord chancellor enough time to order them to stand down.

  Alana had heard of this many hours after the fact, of course. She had heard the hubbub elsewhere in the palace, but she had known to remain in this series of rooms in a separate building in the palace garden, where the wizard resided. After she had heard about the fate of the royal couple, the first thing she had thought of was she was glad it hadn’t been her that would need to clean it up.

  Jyuth had come back to his rooms shortly afterward, and he had looked positively cheery, a smile on his face as big as those her dad would have when he had come home with a few pieces of gold and gifts for the family after being away at sea for months at a time. Yesterday was when Jyuth had looked her in the eye for the first time and asked her name.

  Today, the wizard dropped himself onto a sedan chair and crossed his feet atop a small mahogany table. He’d stopped whistling, but again seemed to be in good spirits.

  “Ah, Alana, there you are. Your presence makes me happy! Do you know why?”

  Alana shook her head.

  “Because you’re going to fetch me some good bread and cheese and some warm beer. And maybe some ham, too.” He gave a little laugh and patted his rotund belly to pantomime where the food was going to go. “You know talking to these fools makes me hungry, but by Krask, it’s fun. I feel younger already.”

  She smiled, nodding, but avoided eye contact while she backed out of the roo
m before running to the kitchen. When she returned, he was sitting in a different chair by the unlit fireplace, a book in his hands. She placed the tray on the small side table next to his seat.

  “I hope this meets your needs, my lord,” she said, giving a little curtsy like Bertha the head maid taught her.

  “Excellent, excellent. And you brought apples and those fine olives from Faria, I see. Excellent! I do love independent thinking.” He grabbed a piece of cheese, tore off a chunk of bread from the loaf, and waved his arm at the seat opposite him. “Please, sit. Now tell me, Alana, where do you hail from?”

  “I am from Kingshold, my lord,” replied Alana. Some may have thought the tone of her voice to be timid, but that wasn’t her. Wary, like the sparrow, too smart to be caught. “The Narrows.”

  “And do you know who I am?”

  “Yes, m’lord. You are the kingmaker, protector of Edland. Jyuth the wise and terri… er, terrific.”

  “Hah! It’s quite alright, dear. I have heard people call me terrible before. And do you know? They’re right.” A glint briefly appeared in the old man’s eyes, then he leaned back in his chair and blew out a sigh. “Or at least I used to be much more terrible in years past. Our enemies knew it, and so did the kings I made. It seems the reputation of my terribleness stopped at Molly Brown’s sweet shop at the edge of the Narrows. Is it still there?”

  Alana nodded.

  “They had marvelous sugar mints, if I recall correctly. Excellent. Anyway, it looks like that reputation has not made its way up to the palace in the past five years.”