All Spell Breaks Loose

The demon kept coming; his gleaming black horns gored Sarad Nukpana’s shields and contemptuously tossed them aside like a bullfighter’s cloak. The demon grabbed Nukpana, and still the goblin fought, his magic flaying the demon in uncontrolled rage and dawning terror. The seared streaks in the demon’s flesh healed instantly, and a sound escaped his throat that sounded almost like laughter.



The demon turned and inclined his massive head to Tam.



Tam bowed in return.



The darkness next to the dais rippled and opened revealing a dim oval of reddish light. The stench of sulfur-scented hot air flowed out of the passage that the demon had opened.



The demon charged toward the Hellgate with his prize, as our ears rang with Sarad Nukpana’s screams.



Chapter 23



All of the magic Sarad Nukpana had murdered to have for his own, the power he had hoarded for his moment of triumph, had been his undoing, twisted into his ultimate weakness.



Kesyn Badru had been right.



But right now, standing outside the Khrynsani temple, Tam had some explaining to do to his old teacher and a livid Imala Kalis. Yes, Tam had summoned a demon, but before he’d released it, there’d been some fast talking and even faster deal making on Tam’s part. With his obscene level of power, Sarad Nukpana had turned himself into a veritable demonic feast. Tam told the demon that he’d release him, but only if he gave his word that he’d only take Sarad Nukpana. Tam’s soul wasn’t part of the deal or even on the table.



Demons were, well… demons, but if you managed to get one to give you its word, it was good. However, you had to be careful not to give them a loophole in that verbal contract to pick up a couple of extra treats while they were here. Tam gave the demon a look at the buffet, then made him promise not to get greedy.



It had worked.



Being the right-hand mage and counselor of the goblin queen for five years had taught Tam how to close loopholes like little nooses.



Tam had gambled on the strength and appeal of Sarad Nukpana’s power, betting that the demon would want Nukpana worse than the demon would want him. I wondered if the demon felt cheated. Probably. If he did, Tam would have to watch his back from now on. That thing would want payback of the eternal kind. Then again, didn’t we all have to watch our backs against someone—or something? The more power you had just meant there were bigger and meaner things stalking you.



Tam was explaining all this to Kesyn and Imala. Or trying to. It wasn’t that Imala didn’t understand it; she understood only too well. She was infuriated that Tam had dangled himself like an hors d’oeuvre to lure a demon to a Sarad Nukpana feast.



“Because if I had told you,” Tam was saying, “the demon would have known, and I’d have been a greasy spot on the floor. Calling a demon, then putting conditions on their release, really pisses them off.”



Imala’s dark eyes glared daggers at Tam. “And you risked yourself on the chance that thing would want Sarad more than you.”



“I only have one soul in me,” Tam said. “Sarad had six ancient sorcerers, Rudra Muralin, and some Saghred mojo. Me? Just one soul, and in comparison, miniscule power. Scrawny power versus fat and juicy with evil. It was no contest.”



Imala was quivering with fury. “What would have stopped him from taking both of you?”



Tam was confused and well on his way to annoyed. “We. Had. A deal.” This was the third time he’d had to repeat that particular fact, and couldn’t understand why Imala wasn’t getting it.



“And if he’d failed to catch Sarad?” Imala asked.



Tam shrugged. “Then I probably would have ended up as the consolation prize.”



Imala flung her hands up in exasperation. “Precisely!”



“But it worked. I’m still here.”



Imala’s fists were clenched, she was virtually shaking with rage, and her restraint was about to take off for hell in a handbasket. Should she use her fists to beat some sense into Tam, or should she—



Imala unclenched her fists, grabbed Tam’s head in both hands, pulled him down, and kissed him. Hard.



Tam hadn’t expected that, but he recovered quickly and Imala found herself lifted off her feet. I don’t think she noticed.



Tam’s parents were having a similarly passionate reunion; but unlike Imala, Deidre hadn’t needed to fight the urge to punch Cyran before kissing him.



We were out of the temple and in Execution Square near the palace, surrounded by those Resistance fighters who weren’t presently occupied hunting down any and every Khrynsani they could find. The Mal’Salin palace also had dungeons, and that had been where Sarad Nukpana had imprisoned the goblin nobles who’d refused to bow down to him.



Apparently the explosions and resulting blaze had been a result of a massive wagon full of armaments with just enough Nebian black powder inside to make for one heck of a pyrotechnics display, and to blast a sizeable crater at the foot of the Khrynsani temple stairs. Witnesses said the wagon had been driven into the square and parked in front of the temple by a lone goblin, who released the wagon’s team of horses, hurled a torch on top of the wagon, and then ran like hell.



Damage to the inside of the temple had been even more extensive. The sea dragons had been big enough to break through the temple floor, but fortunately weren’t small enough to get through the front doors. Once Sarad Nukpana was gone, so was his control over the dragons, and the pair had gone back where they’d come from; that is, once all of their food had run screaming outside and out of their reach. The Resistance mages had a couple of weather wizards among their number, and they were presently exhausting themselves trying to put out the still burning crater.



Prince Chigaru and Princess Mirabai were being celebrated by their nobles as their new goblin king and queen. Chigaru was the last Mal’Salin heir standing, so that was enough for the nobles to begin sucking up. More than a few of them were wearing the same fancy clothes that marked them as having been in the temple just an hour before. However, most were the nobles who had been newly released from the palace dungeons. Their sincerity didn’t sound forced, unlike their well-dressed counterparts’. I hoped Imala had some trusted agents in the crowd noting who was dressed up and who looked like they’d been languishing in a dungeon. That knowledge would come in handy for culling the wheat from the chaff later. For now, the army officers and some newly handpicked loyal soldiers had established a heavily armed perimeter around their new monarchs and were allowing the nobles to get only marginally close and only one at a time. From time to time, as a particularly well-dressed noble was allowed to approach and bow, Mirabai would whisper in her soon-to-be husband’s ear. In response, Chigaru would scowl at the now-shaking supplicant.



Oh yeah, those two were going to clean house.



Goblin politics was a fluid thing, and goblin courtiers were, shall we say, flexible in their loyalties. Loyalty seemed to pass easily from Sathrik to Sarad Nukpana to Chigaru. I didn’t think they could help themselves. If a goblin aristocrat was breathing, they were plotting. And if they were plotting, they were happy.



They weren’t the only ones—who were happy, that is.



I had my arms around the waist of a certain Guardian paladin, and he had one arm tightly around me. The hand of his other arm still had a tight grip on that curved goblin sword, his sharp blue eyes taking in every threat within fifty feet in every direction. Seeing that we were surrounded by scheming goblin courtiers, regardless of how well behaved, I wholeheartedly approved of how Mychael was dividing his attentions.



Words couldn’t describe how wonderful it was not to have a target on my forehead or anywhere else. The Saghred was dust, and Sarad Nukpana was in whatever circle of the Lower Hells had been prepared especially for him.



No one would gain anything by killing me anymore.



At least for now.



Mychael was warm, he was holding me, and both of us were alive and breathing. Life was good. I nuzzled Mychael’s neck, then stood on tiptoe and nibbled his earlobe.



The sword promptly lost Mychael’s attention. Take that, piece of metal.



“Mmm,” Mychael murmured. Then I was on the receiving end of some nuzzles and nibbles of my own.



I suddenly sensed a pair of entirely too watchful eyes. I tried to turn and see who it was, but that wasn’t easy with Mychael still holding on. Kesyn Badru was standing a few feet away.



“You were listening,” I accused.



“Yep.” The old mage smiled, exposing his chipped fang. “And watching. When you get to be my age, you take your thrills anywhere and way you can find ’em.” He nodded with approval and his dark eyes gleamed. “You did good; I’m proud of you.”



“And thank you for being a stinky old man.”



Kesyn laughed. “Never try to be anything you’re not.” He lowered his voice. “Any sign of your magic?”



“Not yet.” I concentrated for a moment, probing around a little in my head. “At least I don’t think so.”



“Give it some time; it’ll come back.”



I nodded, surprised at the sudden realization that I really wouldn’t mind all that much if it didn’t come back. I’d done pretty well over the past few days without it.



“Sir,” Piaras called to Tam. He pointed at a figure on the palace’s garden wall.



The figure whooped.



I squinted through the smoke still coming from the now-extinguished crater. Hmm, a crater made by an exploding wagon—much like a certain exploding goblin army latrine. That explosion had been followed by a mooning from a certain goblin teenager running amuck.



We weren’t being mooned—we were getting the full frontal treatment. Well, navinem did lower your inhibitions. Too bad Talon didn’t have any of those to begin with.



Piaras got a good look at his friend and cracked up.



Talon was whooping up a storm, swinging what looked to be his trousers in victory circles over his head. I said they were probably his trousers because he wasn’t wearing any—or anything else, for that matter.



Lord Talon Nathrach, son of the chancellor to the king, heir and scion of the noble House of Nathrach, was standing above Execution Square, in front of hundreds of goblin aristocrats, buck naked, and loving it. From what I could tell, the kid had nothing to be ashamed of, and many of the ladies of the court shared my opinion.