CHAPTER 25

THE MOUTH OF THE ABYSS

334 AR

“Beloved.”

The moon was a scant crescent of silver light as Jardir circled the night sky. He could see demons thick in the lands below, glowing like torches to his crownsight.

“I am here, my love,” Inevera responded almost instantly.

“We approach the gateway to the abyss,” Jardir said. “We are far from civilization, but alagai are thick in the area. The ambient magic is increasing. This may be the last time we speak before I pass beyond even the reach of the Crown of Kaji.”

Below, the Par’chin and his Jiwah Ka, wards of unsight glowing softly on their skin, escorted Alagai Ka’s prison. Shanvah drove the small wagon, its steel car covered in the Par’chin’s wardings, containing the evil within and masking it from the evil without. Her father sat chained to the bench next to her, staring blankly into the distance.

If those protections had not been enough, Shanvah’s voice enveloped them, amplified by the choker her spear sister had given her. She sang a verse of the Song of Waning over and over, a beautiful, tranquil melody that threatened to ensorcell even Jardir.

Watching from above, Jardir could see the wards protecting the party below. They glowed in crownsight—the limit of their light’s reach the limit of their power. Shanvah’s magic was subtler, but its effect was unmistakable. The movements of the alagai rippled as they came into her range, subtly steering away without rousing attention.

“My niece has grown powerful,” Jardir said. “Truly Everam’s Plan is unknowable. There are Spears of the Deliverer who fought by my side for twenty years. I have so many sons I cannot claim to know them all. Yet it is my niece, barely old enough for marriage, chosen to walk with me into the Mouth of the Abyss and bear the weight of Sharak Ka.”

“Forgive me, beloved, for every unkind word I have ever spoken of your sisters,” Inevera said. “From their wombs sprang three of the greatest warriors Ala has ever known.”

“Everam grant they be enough.”

“Have you slept?” Inevera asked.

“We rested for an hour, when the sun was high,” Jardir said.

“That is not enough, husband,” Inevera said. “Magic can restore vitality, but your minds need to dream, or you risk madness.”

“Then I pray we can stave it off until our duty is complete,” Jardir said. “After that, it does not matter.”

“Of course it matters,” Inevera said.

“We will sleep in the coming day,” Jardir said. “Tomorrow night is Waning, when we will set Alagai Ka free to guide us on the path into the dark below. I fear there will be no sleep after that, until victory or death.”

“Where are you?” Inevera asked.

“Just north of the mountain where the Par’chin and I fought Domin Sharum. There is power here, beloved. I understand now why the Par’chin was drawn to it.”

“Your voice grows fainter,” Inevera said. “Open your heart to me one last time. What do you feel as you approach the Mouth of the Abyss?”

“Eager.” Jardir hesitated. It was true, but not the whole truth. “Afraid. Afraid I will fail you. Afraid I will fail all Ala. Afraid I will be weak, and Everam forsake me in my hour of need.”

“These are the fears of all Everam’s children, while Nie exists,” Inevera said. “It is only just that the Deliverer feel them most of all. But I have watched you all your life, son of Hoshkamin. If you cannot bear the weight of Sharak Ka, then it cannot be borne.”

Jardir swallowed a knot in his throat. “Thank you, beloved.”

“Thank me by—” The words cut out, and suddenly Jardir heard only wind. He stopped, even flying back to try to reestablish the connection, but he could not find it again without traveling farther from the wagon than he dared.

Below, the father of demons lay thrice-bound—once on his very skin, once by silver warded chains, and a third time by warded steel walls.

The journey is long, and you are mortal, Alagai Ka promised. The time will come when your guard grows lax, and then I will be free.

It was a prophecy Jardir could not let come to pass. Twice, they had battled Alagai Ka, and twice the prince of Nie nearly defeated them. If he should manage to summon aid when released, there were alagai enough in the area to overwhelm even Everam’s chosen.

“Farewell, beloved,” he whispered to the wind as he flew back to watch over the wagon.

They followed ancient roads gleaned from the Par’chin’s dusty maps. Through prairies and deep wood, cutting this way and that to avoid hamlets and refugee camps as they made their way up into the forested foothills. The road vanished soon after, heavily overgrown over the centuries. There were paths wide enough for the wagon, but only barely.

From his high vantage Jardir noticed something strange. The road reappeared up ahead, having seen regular use, and recently. He flew higher, and saw why.

He activated the crown, speaking to his companions below. “There is a large village ahead. Guard the father of demons closely while I investigate.”

“Ay, think we can manage,” the Par’chin said.

Jardir Drew hard on the power of the spear, launching himself toward the town in the distance. After so many weeks at a crawl, it felt good to flex his power.

The village, hidden in the trees, came into view, and Jardir pulled up so short the force of it wracked his body.

Surrounding the village were ancient stone obelisks, each standing twenty feet tall and weighing many tons. The wards on their pitted surfaces were still strong enough to hold the alagai at bay.

But what truly shocked Jardir was that they, and the village beyond, were Krasian in design. Not modern script and architecture; more like the remnants of Anoch Sun. What were a lost tribe of his people doing so far north?

And where had they gone?

Shanvah dropped to her knees when she returned from searching buildings. “There are no signs of battle, Deliverer. It looks as if everyone abruptly gathered supplies and left peacefully.”

The Par’chin frowned. “Lot of that goin’ around, since you folk came out of the desert, spears wavin’.”

Jardir ignored the barb. “This far north, Par’chin? I doubt they even had word of my coming.”

“Deliverer,” Shanvah said. “Could this be the remains of Anoch Dahl?”

Renna tilted her head. “City of…Darkness?”

“Just so,” Jardir agreed. “Kaji built Anoch Dahl to supply his army as he took them into the abyss.”

You will find a piece of Kaji, Inevera said. A gift from your ancestor to guide you in the dark. Could that be what this was? A marker left by the Deliverer to his heirs?

The Par’chin blew out a breath. “And they survived three thousand years, only to pack up and leave for no reason…what? A year ago?”

“Less,” Shanvah reported. “Months.”

“When Alagai Ka staged his assault on Waning,” Jardir guessed.

“Sure as the sun ent a coincidence,” Renna said.

“We will learn soon enough,” Jardir said. “We must rest now, while the sun is in the sky. It may be the last sleep of our lives, for tonight we release Alagai Ka.”

The prison was hot under the hated day star. The metal walls acted like an oven, the inside reaching temperatures that would be fatal to the surface stock.

The heat was less a comfort than the lack of discomfort, but it remained the one tolerable thing about the Consort’s captivity.

Everything else was pain. Each bump of the primitive conveyance jolted the demon, pulling the silver chains tight, their wards bringing fresh agony and shame. When his captors fed him at all, it was with the minds of animals, a diet of fat with no meat. Chained, he was forced to sacrifice the last of his dignity to crawl, each movement a new torture, to press his face against the disgusting flesh, sizzling in the heat. The prison stank of it.

And the singing!

The demon hated all his captors, but he was beginning to hate the Singer most of all. Even muffled by the thick metal walls, the sound of her voice grated, chewing a still-primitive part of even the Consort’s powerful mind.

The Consort had experienced in the thoughts and memories of the Singer’s sire his abhorrent feelings toward the girl—love, pride, hope. It made the demon despise her—want to hurt her—even before hearing her cursed voice.

Like the combat wards, the song was an echo of an ancient magic the mind court thought long since expunged. It tugged at the base emotions of demonkind, and magic was drawn to emotion. His kind provided the very power the song used against them.

Even knowing it for what it was, the Consort wanted to flee the sound. If the humans regained such power in force, they would be difficult to quell. Perhaps impossible, with the hive scattered.

The Consort remembered the great choirs of Kavri and shuddered.

His chains chafed and burned with the movement. He stopped trying to heal the damaged flesh, letting it die and form a barrier as he used his precious reserve of inner magic to build new layers of dermis beneath. It was a slow process, but one that would, over the weeks to come, erode the ink on his flesh, even as the wards eroded his own strength. He did not know which would give out first.

In the meantime, the Consort could only wait in darkness as the carriage jolted across the land. He could not see their route, and his bonds prevented him from reaching out with his mind.

That was the most disconcerting of all. Since he was a hatchling, the Consort’s consciousness had been a thing independent of his body, able to leap vast distances in an instant. Never alone, he felt the urges of his drones, heard the voices of his brethren.

Now, nothing.

Only the coming and going of the day star’s heat gave the Consort a sense of time, but it was enough. New moon was upon them. If they did not set him upon the mindless drone and begin the long trek down to the mind court now, it would be pointless. Very soon, the queen would begin to lay, if it had not already begun.

If it had, they were all doomed, the Consort most of all. If it had not, all of them had an interest in getting to the queen before it happened. If the only way to draw closer to her side was as a prisoner, it would suffice. Once they passed into the deep, where magic heightened and his drones were numerous, there would be opportunities to escape, should his captors ease in their vigilance.

With a sudden jolt, his prison came to a stop.

The Consort hissed at the glare of starlight as the heavy door to his prison was pulled open.

The Consort marked their positions even as his lidless eyes adjusted to the brightness. Even hatchling minds were taught to read the hated stars. It was impossible to gain status in the mind court without experience in the surface wars.

They were close to the path.

His captors gathered at the entrance—the Explorer and the Hunter, the Heir and the cursed Singer.

Chained beside them was the Consort’s mount, the drone Shanjat.

“Gah! Stinks in here!” The Explorer made a show of contorting his face and spitting on the ground, but his aura said otherwise. It was a dominance gesture, meant to manipulate the Consort into anger, in hope he would give up some valuable piece of information.

The Explorer dared lay hands on the Consort, hauling him out of the prison by the burning chains and hurling him to the ground at the center of their ring. The night air was cold, carrying strong ambient magic this close to the path. The power was drawn naturally to the wards on his flesh, and they began to burn. He let the flesh die, tasting the magic on the wind.

One of his brethren was in the area, no doubt holding the vent. It was one of the few direct vents from the Core, and the only one for hundreds of miles large enough to march captives through. An ideal place for a hive, if a mind was powerful enough to hold it from his rivals.

The imprint on the magic told the Consort this one was of his own line. The eldest of his spawn, the Consort’s most trusted lieutenant. Favor had led the Consort to let him live too long, and now he was powerful. Powerful enough to destroy the Consort’s captors, if they were taken unawares.

The Consort rolled to a stop at the feet of his mount. Part of him wanted to refuse to bond with it, simply to remind the humans they did not control him. That at their most crucial hour, he could still stymie them if he wished.

But he did not wish it. Now was the time to gain their trust, and even the limited agency of the mount was better than he had on his own.

When he struck the sandaled foot, there was a moment of flesh-to-flesh contact. It was all the Consort needed to slip in and take control of the drone’s body. It opened its robes, then bent and picked the Consort up, setting him on its back and covering him against the starlight with the cloth.

The demon closed his eyes against the brightness, seeing instead through the eyes of the drone. Chains attached to a thick belt kept its limbs from full extension, just enough to make the climb over the hills and up the mountainside.

They were in a human breeding ground, the one the Consort destroyed when he held the vent several turnings past. Having consumed the mind of its leader, the Consort knew the place intimately.

“You have done well,” he congratulated them in the growls that passed for their communication. “We are near the entrance. I can show you the way.”

“Awful eager, alla sudden,” the Hunter said.

“As a fish is eager for water,” the Consort replied. “As you are eager to consume the flesh of my kind.”

“Ent.” The Hunter’s aura lit with indignation, and the Consort relished it. The humans were so easy to provoke.

“Your lies are meaningless,” the Consort said. “It is written across your aura. You tell yourself you march to save your kind, but in truth you crave only the power.”

The Hunter clenched a fist, ambient magic gathering to her. She would not have to feed much into the tattoos to kill the Consort, but he was unconcerned.

On cue, the Explorer intervened. “Don’t let ’em rattle you, Ren. Know what they’re like.”

The Hunter’s aura eased at the words. “Ay.”

“What place is this, demon?” The Heir waved his weapon as he spoke, and the Consort watched it warily. Kavri’s spear was one of many ways his captors could destroy him, but the Consort had feared that weapon for thousands of years. His own sire had fallen to it. “It bears the markings of my people. What happened to them?”

Countless lies presented themselves, but the truth was more exquisite. “It is Anoch Dahl, the city of night. Staging ground for the armies of Kavri, northern seat of Kavri’s power before his empire came to ruin, leaving a scant few to guard the vent.”

“What happened to them?” the Heir demanded.

“They forgot what they guarded, and why,” the Consort said. “They grew lax, as you will, and their wards failed. I was able to penetrate their defenses and march their bodies down to the mind court for my personal larder.” The words upset the humans. He could see it in their auras, and relished it.

“How can the demon know all this?” the Singer asked.

The Consort turned his drone’s eyes toward her. “Because he consumed their leader’s memories, much as he did mine, daughter. It is how he knows my shame when your ugly mother presented me with a female firstborn. I was too cowardly to strike your mother, but I found a heasah who looked like her to vent my frustration.”

“Lies, from the Father of Lies,” the Singer growled, but there was doubt and pain in her aura.

The sound of her father’s laughter struck the Singer even deeper. “From that violent coupling was born a bastard I loved more than I ever did you.”

She shrieked at him, the sound scraping along his aura. Shanjat fell to his knees, covering the Consort’s ears, but even amid the pain he found pleasure in the Singer’s anguish. Human minds were so fragile. Claw at the right moment and she would shatter.

The Heir laid a hand on her shoulder and her attack died away. The Consort used the drone to flash a grin at her in response.

It was a step too far. The Heir raised his spear and released a burst of power into the wards on the Consort’s skin.

It was agony beyond even his ability to endure. The drone’s robes held him in place when his grip on its back faltered, but the Consort’s control ebbed, and the drone fell atop him as he writhed.

Then, abruptly, the pain stopped. The Consort reclaimed the drone’s body, slowly getting it back on its feet.

This time it was the Hunter who drew a warding, setting the Consort’s nerves aflame and dropping him back to the ground. There was real damage done in the assault. Damage it would take precious magic to repair. The others looked on, impassive.

At last she Drew the power back, and the Explorer stepped forward. “You’ll speak when spoken to, know what’s good for you. You’ll answer our questions and take us where we want to go, and keep your corespawned mouth shut otherwise, or we’ll leave you for the sun and find our own way.”

“You will never find it,” the Consort promised. “Not with a hundred of your years, and you have no such time.”

“These prisoners you sent.” Revulsion was slick across the Explorer’s aura. “They walked the entire way by themselves?”

The Consort shook the drone’s head in the human fashion. “I sent a mimic to guide them past the more…difficult obstacles, and imprinted magic upon the stock, so all the creatures of the dark would know they were mine.”

“What kinda obstacles?” the Explorer asked.

“Even when your ancestors traveled the path it was long and difficult,” the Consort said, “and it has been thousands of years since Kavri led his legions below. Tunnels have collapsed or flooded, others worn through or since dug. Steep drops and sheer climbs. It may be difficult for this drone to navigate them bound.”

“Cross that river when we come to it,” the Explorer said. “Wouldn’t count on us takin’ them chains off, I were you.”

“Sooner or later, I will be free,” the Consort promised. “And when I am, I shall feast on your minds.”

“Maybe.” The Hunter stepped forward, aura flaring hot. “Or maybe you’ll try’n get free, and we’ll kill you and feast on yours.”

She bared her teeth at him. They were not long or sharp like those of his kind, but nevertheless the Consort felt a chill of fear. “You think it’ll work the same way with us? Suddenly know everythin’ you know?”

The Hunter drew the blade from her belt. It was an item of considerable power, imprinted with a heady mix of emotion that Drew magic on its own. “Night, maybe we’re going about this whole thing the wrong way. Maybe I cut you open right now, and lead us down myself.”

She took a step forward, and the Consort knew he had taken the game too far. She meant her words, would kill him and likely go mad consuming his ancient mind.

The thought brought no comfort. If he did not survive, the Consort had no care for what happened between the humans and his kind.

He looked to the Explorer, and found some sense of sanity as the man moved between the Consort and his mate. “Breathe, Ren. Ent got any way to know that’ll work.” Her aura remained hot, unpredictable, but she eased slightly, and the Consort drew a relieved breath.

The Consort had his drone meet the Explorer’s eyes. It was a strange sensation, looking into another creature’s eyes without also being able to see into their mind. How had the humans grown so powerful with such rudimentary senses?

“There is a quicker path for you and me, Explorer,” the Consort said quietly. “One we can travel in moments, sparing weeks of travel. Sparing risk to your mate and get.”

“We go together,” the Heir said. “Or not at all.”

“He does not trust you,” the Consort advised the Explorer. “It is obvious in his aura. He fears you will betray him. Betray all your kind.” He had seen the strain between the two. The doubt. They were not as unified as they appeared.

He tilted the drone’s head. “Is that what you fear, Explorer? What you may become, so close to the Core’s power? You trust yourself little more than your so-called ally.”

The Explorer raised a hand, summoning magic and suffusing the Consort’s wards again. The drone collapsed, the two of them howling and convulsing in unison. The mind tasted human blood, realizing the drone had bitten his tongue.

“Warned you about speakin’ out of turn,” the Explorer said, Drawing back the power. “Only thing we don’t trust around here is you.”

“Yet you ask me to guide you below,” the Consort said, still clutching his fallen drone.

“No time like the present,” the Hunter said.

The Consort considered. He could lead them to the vent, walk them right into the talons of his get, and perhaps see them all brought down.

But what would his rival do, if he found the Consort bound and helpless? Rescue him? Unthinkable. He would do what any in his place would do. He would kill the Consort and consume his mind, gaining power enough to return to the Core and take his sire’s place, fathering a new generation of demons.

“The vent is guarded.” He growled the words.

“Guarded how?” the Explorer demanded.

“Can you not feel it? One of my get controls the vent. Even I can sense him, crippled though you have me.”

The humans froze, all of them tilting their heads as if to listen. It was a moment of distraction the Consort might have used to escape, but he was too weak to attempt it, and feared the Hunter would keep her promise.

“I can hear it,” the Heir said, after a moment. “A whisper on the night air.”

The Explorer frowned, unused to being second when it came to magic. He had the greater skill, but the artifacts the Heir carried were no simple trinkets. The belief of millions remained imprinted upon them, even after so many years.

“There,” the Explorer said after a moment. “Got it.”

“Well I ent,” the Hunter growled.

“The princeling hides behind wardings, even as we do,” the Heir said.

“Draw and Read the flow, but don’t look for anythin’,” the Explorer said. “Look for emptiness, like a pothole in the road.”

The Hunter closed her eyes again, face locked in an animal grimace of concentration. Finally, she opened them, turning and pointing toward the vent. “That way.”

The Heir turned to the Singer. “Shanvah?”

Shame filled the girl’s aura, and the Consort relished it. She bowed. “I am sorry, Deliverer. You three have six senses, but Everam has seen fit only to grant me five.”

“Don’t fret over it,” the Explorer said. “Not like any of us warblers can sing.”

It was difficult to keep the drone’s face from contorting in disgust. Their understanding of the power around them was rudimentary at best. The lowliest caste of drone had greater control by instinct than the best humanity had to offer.

The Consort compartmentalized emotions, for therein lay the essence of magical control. Still, it took an effort to suppress the shame that he should have been taken unaware and captured by…mammals.

But there was hope in the thought, as well. If they could barely read the currents, it opened a range of subtle magics the Consort could safely work without detection.

The problem remained the power source. The wards on the Consort’s skin kept him from letting his own internal magic rise, or Drawing from without. He could work through the drone, but Shanjat, while healthy and strong, was unwarded and broken of will—nearly magic-dead. To work magic he would need a repository, like the items his captors carried.

A small distraction, and the demon might reach one of the items long enough to power a warding. Defensive wards would be no hindrance, working through the human drone.

A puzzle for later. There was a more immediate concern. “You will need to eliminate my get, if we are to pass through the vent into darkness.”

The Explorer turned back to the Consort. “We’re supposed to believe you’re gonna help kill your own son? Maybe you already warned him we’re coming and are walking us into a trap.”

“Do not doubt that I would, human,” the Consort said. “But if my get senses me in my weakened state, he will not hesitate to kill me as well.”

“His own da?” the Explorer asked doubtfully. His disgust at demonkind was palpable in his aura.

“Believe it,” the Hunter said.

“Listen to your mate, human.” The drone turned to smile at the Heir. “It would hardly be the first prince willing to kill for his father’s throne.”

It was a guess, but the Heir’s aura confirmed it immediately. Much like the mind court, the Heir’s proud get were making war upon one another in the vacuum of his power. The surface rebellion was ripe to be crushed.

“If he finds me bound, my get will gleefully feast on my mind, adding my power to his own. None of you could stand against him, then. He will feast on your minds, learning everything about your people and plans before returning to the Core to imprint his essence on a new generation of demons. They will mature quickly, and rise up to pacify the surface long before your crude greatwards can reach a critical mass.”

The captors shared a glance, then the Heir looked at him. “Back in your gaol, Prince of Lies.” He sent power into the wards, and again mind and drone fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

The Explorer came forward, hauling him free of the drone, but the Consort was barely aware of the burning of the chains against his skin. In the moment just before they were pulled apart, the demon’s flailing talon touched something slung from a leather thong around the drone’s neck, nestled between the thick muscles of his chest.

The Singer had made a critical mistake. She thought the vial of her tears hung around her sire’s neck was symbolic, but the bottle held real power. Not much, but imprinted with her sadness, the item Drew and retained magic.

Unbound by the wards on the Consort’s skin, the drone could take hold of the bottle to power a simple warding.

Enough, perhaps, to buy the Consort’s freedom.

Arlen checked the wards three times as he locked Alagai Ka back in the steel car. Its protections were strong, but Arlen knew what the minds could do. If the wagon was located, its cargo discerned, it would not take this other demon prince long to penetrate its defenses.

Tension radiated from Jardir. “I do not trust the servant of Nie.”

“Ent a reason you should,” Arlen said.

“We’ve had it imprisoned for months,” Jardir said. “How did it know about my sons?”

“Don’t think it did,” Arlen said. “It made a guess from Shanjat’s memories when your guard was down, and got your aura to confirm it.”

“Or maybe we ent been careful enough what we say in front of Shanjat,” Renna said.

“Gonna have to start bein’ extra careful,” Arlen said. “Can’t haul that prison car down with us. Meantime, Ren, need you and Shanvah to guard the wagon while Ahmann and I go hunt this mind.”

“Ay, ’cause that worked out well the last time,” Renna said. “Took all three of us to bring down a mind saw us comin’.”

“If it’s a bushwhack, we ent got much chance against a demon standing on a magic vent that big,” Arlen said. “If it ent, need you here.”

“Why?” Renna said.

“We get hit, you need to make sure nothin’s left of Alagai Ka for this other mind demon to chew on.”

“Demonshit,” Renna growled. “Shanvah can do that. You just don’t want me coming.”

“Any reason I should?” Arlen asked. “Creator, Ren. You’re showing already.”

“Ent,” Renna said. “Put on a little weight is all. Eatin’ for two.”

“I can see right into your belly, Ren,” Arlen said. “Baby shouldn’t be growin’ this fast. Same thing happened to Leesha. Gave birth months early.”

He knew it was a mistake the moment he said it. No good ever came from mentioning Leesha Paper in an argument.

“Ay, kickin’ dama’s heads in and killin’ demons the whole rippin’ time, to hear the Hollowers tell it,” Renna said. “Sayin’ I ent as tough as Leesha Paper?”

“Trouble found her, and she handed it right back,” Arlen said. “Didn’t go down into the Core lookin’ to pick a fight.”

“That’s the demon talkin’,” Renna said. “Tryin’ to split us up. Weaken us.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s wrong,” Arlen said. “That’s what they do. Smack you with the truth where it hurts the most.”

“And that is where you must resist the most, Par’chin,” Jardir cut in. “Your jiwah is too powerful to leave behind. You know it to be true. There is no one else who can go in her stead, and we have need of the help. We all must make sacrifices.”

Arlen glared at him. “Easy for you to say, Ahmann. World’s littered with your kids—your wives. These are the only ones I got.”

“Do you think it is my wish to take my niece, barely old enough for marriage, into the abyss?” Jardir demanded. “That my only grandson is on his mother’s back, walking into a nest of spears for the sake of a khaffit?”

“Ent the same and you know it,” Arlen snapped. “Would you take Olive Paper down into the abyss with us?”

Jardir didn’t hesitate. “If it shifted odds of destroying Alagai’ting Ka even slightly in our favor, then yes, Par’chin. I would take all my wives and all my children into the abyss to see it done. This is what it means to be Evejan. The First War comes before all else. Inevera cast the dice in your jiwah’s blood. She must come into the abyss with us, or our chances to prevail will be only a fraction of the slim hope we hold now.”

There was conviction in his aura that terrified Arlen—and filled him with envy. How simple life would be, if he could trust to fate.

“It’s my choice,” Renna said.

“Ay, but I don’t have to like it. We should be on my da’s farm, makin’ things grow and waitin’ nine months like every other corespawned fool in creation.”

“Wanted that all my life,” Renna said. “You were the fool who ran off and started this mess. Up to us to finish it. Your da’s farm ent safe. Nowhere is, till we see this done.”

“Fine.” Arlen bit the word. “But I don’t recall the corespawned dice saying anything about staying with the wagon this once while we open the gate.”

Renna crossed her arms. “Can’t stop me. You go off and I’ll follow, ’less you want to lock me up with the demon.”

Arlen clenched his fists. Ragen and Elissa told him many times growing up that marriage was hard and full of compromise, but he never truly understood till it happened to him.

Arlen focused power into the wards of confusion and unsight on his skin as they climbed the slope of the mountain. He could feel the coreling prince sweeping the area with its mind, but it did not seem to be seeking them in particular.

Renna did the same. When he looked at her directly, she appeared insubstantial, like a reflection on a glass window. Trying to focus on details about her person dizzied him. In peripheral vision, she melted away almost entirely.

She said it was the same when she looked at him. Their wards were keyed to affect demons, but the coreling flesh he and Renna consumed had become part of them, and they felt a portion of the effect. They kept close so as not to lose sight of each other.

Jardir, with his crownsight, had no problems tracking them. He soared the night sky above as they approached the vent cave.

It still unsettled Arlen, the way Jardir could hear the demon whispering on the night wind. The more time Arlen spent near the Crown and Spear of Kaji, the more he respected the first Damajah, who crafted them thousands of years ago. Arlen could claim with no ego to be the greatest Warder of his age, but he was a child banging on a pot compared with the orchestra of magic in those items. Jardir couldn’t dissipate, but with his evolving mastery of the items, he was discovering powers even Arlen could not replicate.

They came to the edge of the mind demon’s wardnet, carved by wood demon talons into the trees all around the base of the mountain. The rise was too big to hide entirely, especially with power spilling from the vent. Arlen could see into the net with his normal vision, but in wardsight it was like staring into thick glowing fog.

Arlen sensed the forbidding was keyed not to demons but humans. Anyone attempting to pass would be thrown back in a flare of light and pain, alerting the mind to their presence.

Jardir, too, stopped short. Arlen could see him hovering at the edge of the wardnet as he studied it from above.

Renna pointed upward. “Wanna see what he’s seein’.”

Arlen reached out and took her hand. “Careful not to mist more than a little.”

“Told me a thousand times,” Renna said. “Go too far an’ our wards fail. Demon will sense us and it’ll come down to a battle of will.”

“Neither of us wants that fight, we can avoid it,” Arlen said. “Especially when the demon’s got a wardnet to protect his mind from us.”

“I’ll be careful.”

They dissipated partially, retaining enough mass to keep their wards active, shedding enough to be lighter than air. Like a couple at a festival dance, they kicked off together, floating up to meet Jardir.

It was a clear night, and even with only the stars to go by, Arlen’s sharp eyes could pick out the narrow road leading up to the vent. The cave was smaller than he expected, but the power radiating from it was too much for even the demon prince to hide. Around the cave were ancient stone pillars, their wards broken and marred.

“The Mouth of the Abyss,” Jardir whispered reverently. “More sacred ground, marred by the alagai.”

“You’re the general,” Arlen said. “How do you want to play this?”

Jardir considered. “When the coreling princes came to Everam’s Bounty on Waning, they cut greatwards into the fields, much like the demon has done here. I was able to penetrate them using the powers of the crown.”

“Can you breach the net without the demon sensing you?” Arlen asked.

Jardir frowned. “I am not sure. The last prince was weaker, his warding unfinished, and his attention inward. This foe is prepared. I can sense his will, reaching out from his succor.”

“I could distract it,” Arlen said. “Big unfocused blast of magic will light up the whole net. Time it right, demon shouldn’t sense you pushing through.”

“We’ll distract it,” Renna said. “Gonna strike back at you, second you touch that web. Told me yourself we can’t dissipate without baring our necks.”

“All the more reason for you to stand clear,” Arlen said.

Renna shook her head. “I’ll scatter another blast from the far side of the mountain, three breaths after yours. Give you a chance to run. We take turns, until Jardir kills it.”

“Ent gonna be able to keep that up for long,” Arlen said.

“You will not need to be long,” Jardir promised. “I will be swift as Everam’s spear.”

Arlen slowly drew a breath. “Better be.”

“If you cannot put your faith in Everam, Par’chin,” Jardir said, “put it in your ajin’pal. Go now.”

Arlen gave Renna’s hand a squeeze. Though she was as insubstantial as a soap bubble to the rest of the world, she still felt solid to him. Their eyes met, and then Renna turned and flew off. Jardir drew his Cloak of Unsight close, blurring before Arlen’s eyes. Arlen dropped away, flying a good distance in the opposite direction Renna had.

Then he hovered just above the trees before the net and Drew. Magic was thick in the area, rolling like a waterfall down from the vent. Power came to him in such strength he was sure the mind must sense it. He threw the power at the wardnet, lighting it up like a constellation.

He moved as he did, putting on a burst of speed. It was just in time, as a return blast of magic shot out from the cave mouth, centered where he had hovered a moment ago. The power splintered the tops of the trees, setting a vast swath of woods alight.

No sooner did the light die away than the wardnet lit up from another direction as Renna did her work.

A second blast shot out, this one in Renna’s general direction, though doubtless she was long gone. Arlen cast again, and still the wardnet held, but this time there was no return fire. A shrieking came from the cave and he froze, forgetting even to breathe. Had Jardir struck?

But the shrieks did not die away. They grew louder and louder, high-pitched and overwhelming. Arlen’s fists tightened as they burst from the cover of the demon’s camouflage—hundreds of small wind demons, agile and fast. Their leathern wings slapped powerfully against the air.

More and more of them swept out, thousands now, flying with terrifying uniformity as they divided into two thick clouds, circling the edge of the wardnet in opposite directions. There were mimics among them, glowing brighter in wardsight than their fellows.

“Corespawn it.” Arlen spat into the wind. If they remained in the area, a cloud that large would sweep them up in moments. The instant one of the demons bumped against them, the mind would have their position.

“Swift as Everam’s spear, my bido,” he muttered, putting on a burst of speed.

He needed to find Renna.

Renna was so close to the blast she felt it singe her feet, but she pulled up short a moment later, going back the way she came in case there was a follow-up strike.

The lump of power at the center of the camouflage was shining brightly now. The demon was Drawing heavily on the vent. No creature could hold that much for long, but in the short term it made the demon incredibly dangerous.

Then the wind demons swept from the cave.

From a distance they looked like the bats that roosted in her father’s barn, but as they drew closer she could see they were the size of dogs, with powerful corded muscle under sharp scales, and snouts filled with sharp teeth.

She took off, but the demons were moving in both directions along the surface of the demon’s warding, a rapidly expanding net that would soon catch her and Arlen—if he hadn’t been swept up already. The magic from the cave mouth began to pulse angrily.

She traced quick wind wards as she flew, scattering them like tacks in her wake. Demons bounced off them as the flight began to catch up, causing chaos in their tight formation, but there were too many to be slowed.

Up ahead she saw the flight overtake Arlen. He turned and fed power to his wind wards, the tattoos flaring silver, too bright to see. Demons bounced off the forbiddance, colliding in midair. When the light died away, Arlen had dropped from the swarm and was flying fast her way.

The cloud of demons overtook Renna, as well. She powered her wind wards as Arlen had, demons rebounding away, but one of them was undeterred, colliding with her in midair and wrapping around her like a snake.

With the added weight, the two began to fall. Renna fed power to her mimic wards, pushing the creature away from her flesh, but it kept coiled around her, pulling her down.

“Ren!” Arlen screamed, but he would not reach her in time as the ground rushed to meet them. She gathered power into her muscles and bones, into the flesh of her belly, hoping to survive the impact.

But then a final throb of power burst from the cave. It rolled out like a ring in a pond, carrying a wail that could not be heard with the ears.

It was a sensation she’d felt before, the shock wave from a mind demon’s psychic death rattle. It passed through the vast colony of bat demons, dropping them from the sky, and at last the mimic loosened its hold. She broke away as it careened shrieking into the trees.

There were a series of explosions as Jardir Drew upon the vent to energize massive impact wards, pulverizing clusters of trees that formed the keywards of the demon’s wardnet. A moment later the forbidding dropped, and she sped for the cave, Arlen joining her as they pulled up short at the mouth. His face was grim and she readied herself to argue further, but he said nothing, his attention fully on the entrance.

The pillars to either side of the cave, battered by coreling talons and the weight of ages, were unmistakably Krasian. Worn down over the millennia, Renna could still make out the demon’s head carved into the living rock above the cave, its mouth the gateway into the abyss.

Arlen pulled up next to her. “Mouth of the Abyss ent just a name.”

“Woulda been disappointed if it was just a cave.” Renna alighted by the entrance, Drawing hard on the abundant magic, ready for anything as they stepped inside.

Jardir was waiting as they entered, standing with spear at the ready over the corpse of a mind demon. He lowered the weapon as they approached. “There were a pair of mimics, but they died with their master.”

Arlen nodded. “Same for the bat demons outside.”

“Couple mimics mighta survived,” Renna said. “Out of range of the full effect.”

Jardir nodded. “Let us retrieve Shanvah and the prisoner swiftly, before any survivors have time to recover.”

“We should take the wagon all the way up to the mouth,” Arlen said. “All a mimic needs to do is lay a claw on that mind, and we’re done.”

“Good thing there ent any demons down where we’re going,” Renna muttered.

Arlen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You got a better idea, Ren, now’s the time to share.”

Renna eyed the mind demon. “Just mutterin’. We’re all jumpy. Both a’ you go escort the wagon. I’ll hold the vent.”

She expected Arlen to be suspicious, but he seemed relieved not to have to argue. He was right, in any event. It was pointless to cast shade on his plan without having a better one to offer.

The two men flew off, and she turned to the demon’s body. Did it really work both ways? Alagai Ka had been right. She could not risk their mission by killing their only guide on a hunch. But here was a fresh mind, its body still warm…

Before she could think twice, Renna had her knife in hand. The warded edge cut deep into the tough, knobbed flesh of the demon’s cranium, and she peeled the skin back to expose the bone beneath. She wiped the excess ichor away with her hands, sucking her fingers clean.

She hardly noticed the putrid stench of demon ichor anymore, nor the foul taste, but she was learning to identify subtle differences of magic. She could tell stone demon ichor from rock, pick out the tingle of lightning demon from the flavor of wind. Most memorable was the mimic demon ichor she’d licked from her blade and skin, rolling the magic in her mouth like chaw.

But none of it prepared Renna for the rush of power that came from mind demon ichor. It shocked like a jump into freezing water. She shivered, feeling more alive, more alert, than ever in her life. It was all the other flavors of magic combined, and so much more.

She fractured the thick skull bone with a sharp blow from the impact ward on the pommel of her knife, then slid the blade into the gap, prising it open to expose the brain beneath.

It jiggled like gelatin, slick and glistening with ichor. In wardsight, Renna had never seen anything glow as brightly as the demon’s mind. She cut a large chunk and seized it in her bare hand, shoving it eagerly into her mouth.

The power in the ichor was nothing, the crackle of a carpet compared with the bolt of lightning in her mouth. There was a rush of pleasure, the world around her opening to her senses like never before. Every moment stretched out, infinite, as the world lit up with information. She marveled at motes of dust frozen in midair, saw the whorls and eddies of the magic coming through the vent like a frozen waterfall.

But the information poured into her faster than she could comprehend. What began as a refreshing drink threatened to drown her.

Power sizzled in her veins, burned across her nerves. Not the dry, horseradish feeling of Drawing too much magic. This was being cast living into a funeral pyre. She screamed, and it felt like breathing fire.

A barrage of input followed, impossible to make out. Senses she didn’t even have names for, delivering information with the roar of a river at spring melt. Images that made no sense.

There were emotions, as well, but these Renna had a name for.

Evil. It saturated her. Penetrated her. Contaminated her.

Renna fell to the floor—or rather, she felt the floor strike her, but then it was lost in the maelstrom. She sloshed up, black ichor and charcoal gelatin jiggling in the bile in front of her face. She could not think, could not feel her body, had no idea if she were still breathing. Everything was pain and cacophony, skin to soul. Her vision bounced and vibrated, and she realized she was convulsing.

Then it all went black.

“She cannot be trusted, Par’chin!”

“None of us can be trusted,” Arlen said. “But like you said, ent no one to take our places.”

Cold water splashed Renna’s face, and she sat up with a jolt. Arlen stood over her with a pail, scowling. Behind him, Jardir had his spear at the ready, but he was not looking for outside threats.

He was pointing it at her.

Renna shivered. She tried to look around but everything was still alive in wardsight, the creatures too small to see with the naked eye glittering in the air. It was dizzying, and she put a hand out to steady herself.

“Easy now.” Arlen knelt at her side, steadying her with one hand as he ladled water from the pail and brought it to her lips. “That was real stupid, what you done.”

There was life in the water, too. So clear she could not believe she had never noticed it before. Millions of tiny organisms. She could feel them wriggling in her mouth and coughed, spattering Arlen. “Had to be done.”

“Din’t.” Arlen wiped water from his eye. “Have our plan.”

“Plan’s crazy, and you know it,” Renna said. “Told me yourself it was time for other ideas. Had one.”

“Meant ones less crazy than mine,” Arlen said.

“You’re the one overthinks everything,” Renna said. “Rest of us just do what feels right.”

“Overthinkin’s kept me alive,” Arlen said. “Doin’ what feels right lands you in hot water.”

Renna looked at him, seeing into his aura as never before. “Remind me again, who the first person to eat demon was?”

“Ay, and that’s worked out great,” Arlen said.

“Got you where you are today,” Renna said. “Mister Overthought now, but the Arlen Bales I knew back in the Brook was reckless.”

Arlen rubbed his face into a palm. “Might not be in this fix, I wern’t so reckless.”

“Maybe,” Renna conceded. “Or maybe we just might not have as good a chance to set it right.”

“It is pointless to argue,” Jardir said. Renna looked at him, and could see one of the gemstones on his crown glowing brighter than the rest as he stared into her aura, trying to decide if the demon’s mind had corrupted her in some way.

Core if I know, she thought. She felt like herself in some ways, but in others she was irrevocably changed.

Yet after a moment, Jardir seemed satisfied. He raised the point of his spear. “What did you see, Renna vah Harl? Your aura is…”

“Chaos,” Arlen finished.

“Saw everythin’,” Renna said. “And nothin’. Like everyone in the Hollow clustered in the Corelings’ Graveyard, all talkin’ at once. Too much to make out. Wasn’t no sense to it.”

Arlen nodded. “Was like that for me, when I touched that demon prince’s mind. But I remembered a few things. Things that might mean winnin’ and not losin’. There’s anythin’ you can recall—”

“Ent,” Renna said. “Leastways, not yet. Need time.”

“Time is the one thing we lack,” Jardir said. “The darkest hours are already passed. If we do not release Alagai Ka and enter the Mouth of the Abyss, we will need to wait out the day here, and lose any advantage of surprise.”

Renna pushed her feet under her and stood, breathing in rhythm to center herself. “Put it together on the way. Let’s go.”