Dragon's Tongue (The Demon Bound) (36 page)

“First, once you have locked them into the cells, you and your men are to leave this place, and burn it to the ground.”

“But the lass…”

“You have scruples now?” Tane asked with a frown, and the bandit froze and shook his head. “You know perfectly well the child is nothing but a monster and the young man is now a liability I cannot risk letting free. Let them be burned and buried in the ruins of this place, and that is that.”

“And your second task?” the bandit asked, looking hesitant.

“Send the least necessary of your men…one you can do without…” Tane said, smiling. “He can…help me to recover, and then I will be gone, and you will be on your own…”

Vagner quickly darted away. So that was Tane’s game. To abandon them trapped in the depths of a burning keep. Like as not, the bandit he asked for would be used to feed his own essence so he would be well enough to gate himself to a place of safety. The demon could sense Tane was close to death himself. He would need more than one life to renew his own, but the one would suffice for now.
And he dares to call me a monster…

Briefly, Vagner considered leaving. After all, the bandits were occupied. It would be a mere matter of going out the door, never to return.
But I am still stuck in this form!
The prospect of remaining a child for all eternity was not pleasing. Without his magic, Vagner might survive, but not for long.

The demon heard the bandits below cursing their burden as they bore Alaric towards the cell. With a sign, the demon hurried down the stairs. As much as he wanted to leave, he wanted his old form back even more. And he only knew one way to get it back.

The pair bearing Alaric had reached the cell. They didn’t bother going down the steps. Scolds bridle and all, they tossed poor Alaric over the edge like a sack of grain. The demon winced to hear the muddy thwack that accompanied the young man’s landing. Vagner glared at the men as they hurried out and barred the cell door.

“Fine mess,” the demon muttered.

He descended the steps, removing the scolds bridle and giving the young mageborn a shake.

“Wake up, Alaric,” Vagner said. “Wake up or we both are dead!”

There was one way to escape…only one way. But only if Alaric would agree.

THIRTY SEVEN

“Alaric, wake up…” The sing-song child’s voice whispered to him from afar. Alaric didn’t want to wake up. Down here in the darkness of his mind where time slipped effortlessly away, he knew peace instead of pain. And besides, Ronan was here, singing a sweet ballad about putting violets in a maiden’s black hair, and it was one Alaric had never heard before.

“Close your eyes my precious

Lay your head upon my knee

I’ll put violets in your ebon hair

That shimmers like the sea…”

“Alaric!” The beckoning voice spoke louder. Alaric frowned at the interruption. Ronan stopped singing and fixed Alaric with a bemused smile.

“You better do as he asks,” Ronan said.

“I don’t want to,” Alaric protested like a child. “It will hurt.”

“That’s my fault, I fear,” Ronan said and sighed. He leaned against an apple tree that had not been there before. “I could not attack Tane without hurting you. He was tangled up in your essence, and I had to stop him quickly…”

“It didn’t help,” Alaric said with a sigh. “Tane has the song.”

“Aye, all the more reason for you to wake up,” Ronan insisted. “If we are going to stop Tane from waking the Dark Mother…”

Na’Sgailean,
Alaric thought. “We?” he said.

“Oh, yes,” Ronan said and grinned like an imp. “Because I’m here for the ride.”

Alaric frowned. What did Ronan mean by that?

“Run along, Lark,” Ronan said, never losing that wicked smile. “I will be here when you need me.”

“Alaric!” The demon’s voice ripped into Alaric, accompanied by something wet and cold. Alaric lurched sideways, sputtering and coughing.

“Horns!” he hissed when he could finally draw a breath, and wiping water from his face, he peered up in time to see Vagner toss a wooden pail aside.

“Humans,” the demon muttered.

“What did you do that for?” Alaric groaned as he pushed himself upright. Damp hair fell over his eyes, and cold rivulets dribbled into his collar by way of his neck.

“Desperate times require desperate measures,” Vagner said, putting hands on thin hips and cocking the child’s head to one side. “Tane has locked us into the cells, and you have been unconscious for the better part of an hour.”

“And that gives you the right to drown me like a rat?” Alaric retorted, putting his head between his hands as dizziness seized him.

“Will you shut up and listen,” the demon snapped, and leaned over in an attempt to look menacing. “Tane has locked us in here because he no longer needs either of us. He has left, but not before giving the bandits orders to burn this place down.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Vagner mocked. “Because he is Tane. Because he wants to be a god, and now that he has the secret of the Dragon’s Tongue, he has no need for demons or mageborn. Why indeed?”

A groan sounded from afar. Alaric heard the faint tearing of wood and a thunderous rumble as something collapsed.

“It has begun,” the demon said. “Now, you must come up onto the dais. We have little time and much to do.”

The demon turned and stormed towards the stairs. Alaric hesitated, then crawled to his feet. His legs wobbled like green twigs beneath him, and he staggered as he crossed the uneven ground only to drop to his knees. With a snort of exasperation, Vagner returned, slipped an arm around Alaric and helped him the rest of the way.

Alaric hesitated but a moment before crossing the top step. It was like crawling out of a cold, dead tomb into warm sunshine. The emptiness of the void fell away, and Alaric’s senses tingled with life. He took a deep breath of air no sweeter than that below, but at least, it felt alive with essence. His hopes renewed, he pulled on the door, but it refused to budge and the effort tired him. He frowned and sniffed. Through the door wafted the faint odor of burning.

“I take it, you cannot conjure a spell gate,” the demon said.

Alaric turned and looked at the woman-child as he leaned weakly against the wall. “No,” he said.

“Neither can I as long as I wear this form,” Vagner aid. “And in order to get us out of here, I must have my old form.”

“And what am I supposed to do about that?” Alaric said. “It’s Tane’s spell.”

“Locked in place by my True Name,” Vagner said. “And only by my True Name can the spell be broken by another mageborn. But to have my True Name is to have my life at your disposal, and that is a pact no demon would accept lightly.

“I don’t understand,” Alaric said, unease creeping into his soul as he struggled to stay upright.

“It’s simple,” Vagner said. “I will give you my True Name and the means to break Tane’s spell on me…and I will take us from this place to safety, but before I can agree to do so, I must have your word you will not use my True Name to do me any harm.”

“Do you harm?” Alaric said and laughed coldly. “What about all the harm you have done to me?” He sank to the ground, looking at the damaged Tane’s blade had done to his skin. It still burned like fire

“Is keeping your scruples intact worth the price of losing your life?” Vagner asked.

As if in response, there was a heavy moan and the thud of stones falling as wooden support frames were devoured. The air was getting overly warm. Alaric flinched and looked up. How could he bring himself to ally his soul with a demon?

But I will never be able to stop Tane if I stay here and burn to death.

He took a deep breath, meeting the demon’s gaze. “All right… you have my word I will not use your True Name to harm you. Now what must I do?”

“Close your eyes,” the demon said and knelt before him. “Look at me with mage eyes and tell me what you see.”

Alaric blinked then obeyed. He drew essence from earth and stone and bound them with the essence of fire he sensed above them. The demon’s form shimmered and revealed what looked like a tightly woven web, but there was no order that he could discern.

“It looks like you’re wrapped in a cobweb,” Alaric said.

“I thought as much,” Vagner said. “Give me your hand.”

Hesitantly, Alaric obeyed.

“Deep breaths now. And relax, for this will sting…”

“What?” Alaric opened his eyes.

“Close your eyes and listen. For this is the sound of my name…”

Warily, Alaric did close his eyes, and as he did, he felt Vagner tracing some pattern across the palm of Alaric’s right hand. A song began to fill his ears, strange and alien in its beauty. He thought of a brass bell having a rod drawn across its rim. Twice more, the demon made this sound then whispered. “This is my name. Sing it back to me.”

Alaric took a deep breath. Tiny fingers still traced the palm of his right hand as he haltingly repeated the strange, wordless song. It danced dark across his tongue, thick as honeyed wine.

“Again,” the demon said. “Twice more you must sing it to me again.

Alaric sang the name. This time, it glided more sweetly from his throat. He sang it a third time and it tone was almost cloying…sickly sweet, like the odor of death.

And then there was pain. Upon the third time Alaric sang the song, he felt a searing in his right hand. He cried out, opening his eyes and saw the demon cutting through the skin of Alaric’s palm with a sharp little fingernail. Alaric tried to jerk away.

“No, not yet!” Vagner snapped and held tight. Alaric arched against the wall, pain burning like poison on his skin. Then the demon lapped the spot with its tongue, and the fire increased tenfold. Alaric shrieked from the wretched pain. But at last, the creature ceased to torture his skin with the mark. Alaric was released, and with a sob, he leaned against the wall and stared at the pattern laid raw on the flesh of his palm.

“Now, to be one with me, you must know my essence with my name,” the demon said.

Alaric watched the demon slash a nail across the childlike left hand. A black ichor swelled.

“Drink,” the demon said.

“What?” Alaric clutched his hand close and stared in horror at the child. “But your blood is poison…”

“Only a sip is needed to seal the bond,” the demon said. “You have my True Name and wear my mark. By my blood, you will not die…” The hand thrust closer to his face. “Drink now or we both will perish! Drink!”

Alaric flinched and hesitated until he heard the moan and crash above of another floor collapsing.
Do it, fool, or die!

He seized the hand and brought it to his lips.

The demon’s blood tasted like bile. It burned his tongue and throat going down. He almost spat it out, but the hand remained firmly in place until he swallowed. Only then did the demon let go. Alaric rolled over and retched in agony. A hand took his arm and gently pulled him upright, leaning him against the wall.

“Now, you must look at me with mage eyes and say my name,” Vagner said and stepped back.

Alaric coughed then sang the cloying sounds with mages senses and mage sight focused on Vagner.

The glyphs that hid the demon’s soul were as clear as multicolored threads. Alaric could see the beginning and the end of the weaving of that spell. And something else…something familiar, but when he tried to focus on it, the pattern vanished like smoke.

“Undo it, please, and hurry,” Vagner whispered, sounding frightened. “We have so little time.”

Alaric took a deep breath, pulling the essence of fire to him once more. His head spun in protest as thread by thread, he unravelled the weaving like a ragged tapestry falling into his hands. Glyph by glyph, he spoke the names of the wards and untangled the spell until the last one fell away and set the black soul free.

Vagner screamed. Alaric sank to the ground again and drew himself as far away as stone walls would allow. Had he done it wrong? Had he killed the demon instead?

All is well,
a voice whispered in his head.

Ronan?

The child form dropped and writhed in a knot, then the skin and cloth began to rip apart as easily as rotten silk, and the great hulk of its true form slowly swelled into being, The child-like shrieks deepened to anamilistic howls. The last shreds of the girl faded, and in her place, a thing of scales and fur and wings. Slowly, the bat-like head rose, revealing a toothy grin.

“Well done,” Vagner said breathily. “Now come. We must get away.”

Alaric did not move, staring at the hideous fiend.

“You are the master of my True Name now. You’ve nothing to fear from me.” The demon seized Alaric as it spoke and drew him close. “Take a deep breath, little master, and close your eyes…”

The embrace tightened until Alaric almost couldn’t breathe. “Why?” he whispered.

“Because the Between where demons go is not like your gate spell. You open a hole from one place to the other. We step into that place between the holes, and back out again. The air contained there has a poisonous perfume to which demons are immune, but it will kill you if you breathe it. No more questions. Take a deep breath, for I think we must leave immediately.”

Alaric felt a surge of panic growing as he obeyed. The demon held him too tight…too close. Alaric flashed back on being stuffed into that tiny trunk as blackness folded around them like a giant hand. Cold air, as pure as winter, tore into him. He clung to the demon as they lingered in that void for what seemed like an eternity.