The Skull Throne

Arlen came in fast before Jardir lost the advantage, punching the demon repeatedly in the ribs and face. It was like striking a wall. He felt the coreling’s bones crack under his warded fists, but even with his inhuman speed, he knew they were already knitting together before he could pull back for another blow.

The demon leapt back, smashing Jardir against the wall and driving its sharp spines deeply into him. Jardir grunted but held on as it took a step forward, that it might smash backward again.

Arlen gave it no chance, kicking hard at its knee and collapsing the limb. It dropped to one knee, trying to pull at the choking spear, but the wards kept its talons from gaining purchase. Again and again Arlen hammered at the bulbous head, giving the demon no chance to counterattack.

But then suddenly the demon shrank, smaller even than it had been in the beginning. It slipped from the loosened hold and drew a quick ward that burst the stones at their feet, knocking Arlen and Jardir onto their backs.

The Crown of Kaji slipped askew in the tumble, and in that instant, the demon dematerialized and attempted to flee.

But Arlen had worked too long and hard for this moment, and had no intention of letting it go. Instantly he dissolved and gave chase. He had faced demons in the immaterial between-state before, and knew battle there was more a matter of will than power. Three minds had proven his undoing, but he was confident in his strength against one. With all humanity at stake, there was no way the demon’s will could match his.

The tomb was warded, and the cut-stone blocks of the floor offered no paths to the Core. The demon raced for the entryway where Shanvah worked her bow, desperately trying to hold back an assault from demons fighting to answer the call of the mimic, vibrating in the air.

Arlen caught it before it could cross the room, mingling his essence with its, locking on as he forced his will upon the creature.

But this mind was like nothing he had ever faced. Even the three he fought at once had not breached his defenses as effortlessly as this one did, slipping into his mind as easily as a man might pull on an old pair of boots. As he had done instinctively in his first confrontation with a mind, Arlen let go his own defenses as lost, striking hard against the mind’s own thoughts, hoping to find a weakness, but he might as well have tried to run through the great wall of Fort Krasia. The mind’s thoughts were impenetrable even as it raked through his own memories—his very being—with ease.

Had he a voice, Arlen would have screamed.

It was Jardir who saved him. In the moment Arlen delayed the demon’s escape he had reestablished the barrier, and now he raised the Spear of Kaji, firing a lightning strike into the cloud of mist that was the struggling combatants. Whether he had sensed Arlen’s lost advantage and had chosen to risk killing them both—or he simply did not care—was unclear, but the surge of agony through them both broke the demon’s hold for an instant, and Arlen quickly solidified, dropping heavily to the floor, his mind wards back in place.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Not for the first time, his overconfidence had almost proven his undoing. He would be a fool to match wills with this one again. They would have to find another way.

Jardir moved to his side, but did not offer a hand as Arlen struggled to his feet, never taking his eyes off the glowing mist of the mind demon, floating just out of reach at the edge of the barrier. In its immaterial state, the demon could not draw wards, or do anything to harm them. It drifted along the edge of the forbidding, seeking a gap it could exploit to escape. Across the room, Renna and Shanvah fought for their lives, but they dare not take their attention from the mind, even for a moment.

“What do we do, Par’chin?” Jardir asked. “We cannot wait like this forever.”

“No,” Arlen said, “but we can wait a lot longer than it can.” He moved to the wall, pulling aside the heavy stone that lead to their secret tunnel to the surface. “Drag it up with us. Sunrise’ll be soon enough.”

But with those words, the demon solidified and attacked.

Renna was hurled into the wall again, the breath blasted from her body. She pushed off hard, dropping back onto her hand even as the lid of Kaji’s sarcophagus, hundreds of pounds of stone, smashed against the wall where she had just been.

In an instant she was back up, punching and kicking, striking with elbows and knees, hammering at the demon. She could see its magic drain slightly each time it healed, but it was no different for her. One of them would exhaust its supply first, but it was anyone’s guess who it would be.

The mimic remained solid, gripping a large piece of the shattered lid in its talons, slashing with it like a blade. Renna dodged one blow, but it caught her on the recoil, breaking her jaw and shattering teeth.

She rolled with the blow, ignoring the pain, knowing that to lose focus was to die. She was drawing heat and impact wards even as she hit the ground, and the remaining stone exploded in the demon’s face before it could strike her again.

The drain dizzied her, but she Drew hard on the magic beneath her, flooding herself with more power. So much it burned her from the inside, drying her throat and sinuses. She put all of it into a mimic ward that threw the demon into the wall so hard it shattered a pillar and part of the ceiling collapsed atop it. Crushed, black ichor squirted from the debris, but it flowed with purpose, and Renna knew it would soon reform. She choked on dust, her dried eyes stinging. Night, was there no killing this creature?

She glanced at Arlen and Jardir, still locked in battle with the mind, and Shanvah, battling with spear and shield to hold the door, and knew it was up to her to hold the line. The mimic could tip the balance if she let it, destroying all their hopes.

She drew a magnetic ward, and her knife, lying amidst the rubble, flew to her hand. A tentacle formed from the mass of black slime pooling on the floor, and she caught it, cutting the limb free. It was melting even as she threw it aside, turning back into a lifeless black stain. It could heal, but it could not regrow flesh she cut away.

If need be, she would take the demon apart a piece at a time.

The demon knew it, too, and the puddle fled her, running up the wall to gather on the ceiling. Renna leapt high to stab at it, but there was nothing vital to target, nothing to cut off. The gelatinous lump flowed away from the blade, growing another tentacle that slapped her down from behind.

It only took her a second to reorient, but the demon, fully formed once more, dropped down from above. Her blackstem wards were weak, her flesh coated in ancient dust, stuck to the oily blood and sweat that covered her in a sheen. It grabbed at her with two great claws and she caught its wrists, but even as she strained to hold the creature back, its wrists stretched, talons closing about her throat, crushing.

Renna kicked hard, but the demon had her now, and accepted the blows, its grip only tightening. Her face swelled, head throbbing as she desperately tried to draw breath that would not come. She watched as the demon’s great maw opened wider and wider, growing row after row of teeth. She twisted and put her heel into them, shattering a handful even as she tore open her foot. Unlike hers, the demon’s teeth grew back even as her vision began to go black.

She had to get away. Had to escape. She pulled uselessly at the demon’s arms, but they were harder than steel. She tried to draw wards, but it grew tentacles to slap at her hands, preventing her from forming the precise symbols. She tried to shift its weight, but it had driven talons into the floor, holding fast.