The Skull Throne

Kendall smiled at him. “Ay? How about if they fight themselves?”

She twisted the music like a knife in a wound, and the field demons turned their teeth and talons upon themselves. First Kendall made them claw their own eyes, leaving them stumbling blind in agony and rage. Soon after she had them lying on their backs, biting and clawing at themselves in a frenzy until the sheer number of wounds overwhelmed them. Hot, stinking ichor, glowing bright with magic, pooled like syrup around them.

After a few moments, only one of the demons was still kicking. It was a thickly armored creature, the leader of the reap. Kendall eased her melody away, and it leapt to its feet, wounds already beginning to close. In minutes it would be fully healed, and those milky blind eyes would see once more.

Kendall gave it no time. She reached out tendrils of music, catching the demon fast and leading it in a blind charge right into an exposed rock face on the hilltop. It stumbled back, shrieking, but Kendall might as well have had it on a string, using the demon’s own legs to smash its head back into the stone. Again and again, until there was only a wet slapping sound and the creature collapsed, its skull smashed.

Rojer gave a shrill whistle to accompany their applause. Even Coliv banged his spear on his shield. But then he pointed. “Flame demons coming from the south. Wood from the east.”

Rojer looked and saw the approaching corelings, still a few moments away. “Fiddle down, Kendall. Amanvah and Sikvah’s turn.”

Amanvah glided over to join Sikvah, her voice lifting and falling naturally into Sikvah’s song of unsight, weaving in a song of summoning.

Kendall was smiling proudly as she came to Rojer, pressing right up against him. He felt his heart quicken and his face flush. It took little, these days, for his apprentice to excite him. She was a whole new person to him now.

“You’ll soon be as good as me,” Rojer said, meaning it.

Kendall kissed his cheek. “Better.”

“From your lips to the Creator’s ears,” Rojer said. “I’d have it no other way.”

The flame demons came racing up the hill, but before they could reach the top, his wives seduced them. Rojer tried other words to describe it, but none was so apt. The corelings circled Amanvah and Sikvah, giving off a soft, rhythmic noise that sounded disturbingly like purring.

The copse of wood demons drew near, spreading out to surround the hilltop. Coliv dropped into a crouch, and Rojer and Kendall gripped their instruments, ready to raise them at a moment’s notice.

Amanvah led the way as the singers dropped a pitch. The flame demons arched their backs, hissing, and darted to take up guard around the hilltop. They kept hissing as the woodies approached, and when they were in range, spat fire at them.

The resulting battle was fierce, but ultimately one-sided. Wood demons were wary of flame demons, but nevertheless killed them on sight. Flame demons could hurt them, even kill occasionally, but seldom before a wood demon crushed several of them.

Then Sikvah began a counterpoint to Amanvah’s seduction, extending the song of unsight to cover their new allies. Woodies swung wildly, but the nimble flame demons danced around the lumbering blows, hawking great gobs of firespit. The spit stuck where it landed, burning with an intense flame that left Rojer seeing spots. He flexed his right hand, crippled where a flame demon had bitten off his index and middle fingers.

Soon the last of the wood demons had collapsed, bright pyres that burned out into a charred and blackened remain.

“Might as well have stepped into a sunbeam,” Kendall said, applauding.

“Ay,” Rojer said loudly, “but like I told you, making demons fight each other is easy.” Of course, what his wives had done was far beyond that, but like Kendall, they were here to test their boundaries.

Amanvah smiled at him, and Rojer knew his confidence was well placed. She touched her choker as she climbed octaves, the song that moments before had the flame demons dancing their victory becoming a lash that drove them north at a frantic run. There was a cold fishing pond barely a mile in that direction. His senses enhanced by the wardsight, Rojer heard the splashes as the flame demons leapt in, and saw the rising clouds of steam that marked their passing.

There was a flash of magic above their heads, and Rojer looked up to see a wind demon plummet to the ground a few feet away, Coliv’s spear embedded in its chest. The spear survived the fall. The coreling did not.

The Watcher bowed deeply. “You are all touched by Everam, it is true. But this will not save you, if you drop your guard. Everam has no time for fools who do not respect Nie’s might.”

Rojer expected Amanvah to snap at his haughty tone. Instead, she gave a fraction of a bow. More than he had ever seen her give a mere warrior. “You speak wisdom, Watcher, and we hear.”

Coliv bowed again. “I live to serve, Holy Daughter.”

Leesha kept her door shut as she tackled the mounds of paper covering her desk. Outside, Wonda kept visitors away, even Jizell and Darsy. She was in no mood to see anyone.

Wonda’s distinctive knock came at the door, and Leesha sighed, wondering who it was she thought urgent enough to disturb over. “Come in, dear.”

Wonda poked her head in. “Sorry, mistress …”

Leesha did not look up from her papers, pen scratching as she marked, signed, and annotated. “Unless someone’s dying, Wonda, I haven’t the time. Tell them to make an appointment.”

“Ay, that’s just it,” Wonda said. “You asked me to get you at dusk. Supposed to test the Warded Children this evening.”

“It can’t possibly be dusk already …” Leesha began, but looking through her window at the darkening sky, she realized it was true. Already her office so dim she was straining her eyes without realizing.

Leesha looked at the barely dented pile of papers beside her and fought down the urge to weep. Dusk came earlier each day as they approached Solstice, making the tasks she need to accomplish seem that much more insurmountable. Night was a vise, crushing her. New moon in summer had nearly destroyed them. Hollowers died every minute, the entire county holding on for dawn’s succor and time to refortify. What would happen if the coreling princes returned when dark was half again as long, and daylight a scant few hours?

“And Stela wrestled a rippin’ wood demon!” Wonda was saying as Leesha’s carriage made its way home. She and Wonda used to walk the mile from her cottage to the hospit, but now there was no peace for Leesha when she did. Too many well-wishers, petitioners, and would-be advisors.

“Creator, you should have seen it.” Wonda went on. “Corespawn’s thrashing and kicking fit to tear itself in two, and there’s Stela on its back, calm as a tree, waiting patiently for her next hold. Broke its spine in two when she found it.”

“Eh?” Leesha shook her head. “She did what?”

“Ent heard a word I said the last ten minutes, have you?” Wonda asked.

Leesha shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear.”

Wonda squinted at her. “When’s the last time you slept, mistress?”

Leesha shrugged. “A few hours last night.”

“Three,” Wonda said. “Counted. Ent enough, mistress. You know it. ’Specially with you …”

“With me what?” Leesha demanded. They were quite alone. Leesha had put sound-muffling wards in the carriage for privacy.