Kiss of a Demon King (29 page)

46

P
anic was about to overtake Rydstrom as he tore through the house, yelling for Sabine.

Lanthe was trailing him, crying, “You
lost
my sister!”

His breath rushed out when he found Nïx in the main hall upstairs with Sabine in her arms. The Valkyrie blinked at him. “What? A sorceress can’t go check her mascara?”

He was about to yank Sabine from the Valkyrie, but Nïx said, “Easy, demon. She’s hurting. Don’t squish her all up.”

With a nod, he took Sabine, gently cradling her.

Sabine gazed up at him. “Rydstrom, please don’t—”

Nïx interrupted her. “Enough of that. He wants to take you. Count yourself fortunate, Sabine.”

“Ah, gods, Abie!” Lanthe rushed to her side.

Sabine weakly reached for her sister, then drew back her poisonous hand. “Lanthe…stay beside me…no matter what Omort says.”

Lanthe shook her head. “But he’ll make me leave.”

“You can be…persuasive.”

For some reason the sister went wide-eyed. Rydstrom didn’t have time to consider her reaction because another wave was building in Sabine, and she stiffened in his arms, her eyes sliding shut.

“Lanthe, we’ve no time to spare,” he said. They’d lost hours before they’d found her wandering the streets, looking for Sabine. “We leave for the portal right now.”

At the front door, Cadeon was waiting with Holly, his wife, who Rydstrom only saw briefly before. Rydstrom was reassured to see that she gazed up at Cadeon with concern and obvious love in her eyes.

Cadeon moved to block Rydstrom’s way. “Let the sorceress’s sister take her. There’s no reason for you to risk yourself like this.”

“I’ve told you,” Rydstrom said, “that I will not be separated from Sabine.”

“I’ve got my crew meeting here in just minutes. We’re following you in.”

It struck Rydstrom that he might not ever see Cadeon again after this. “No. That’s not the mission for tonight,” he told him solemnly. “Cade, you can take up the fight in the future.”

“This could be a trick—the sorceress can make us see things. She’s trapping you for Omort.
Again
!”

Lanthe said, “She’s dying! Can’t you smell the blood?”

Cadeon ignored her. “Rydstrom, give me the combination to the armory. I’ll use that sword tonight!” At his unbending expression, Cadeon said, “Then you take it. Conceal it—”

Nïx impatiently said, “That won’t work. Omort will know if Rydstrom is hiding anything.”

Cadeon shook his head. “There has to be another way.”

“Put yourself in my shoes,” Rydstrom said. “Imagine if this were Holly, about to die from pain.”

At that, Cadeon clenched his jaw. With a harsh curse, he stepped aside, slamming his forearm against the doorway in frustration.

Heading to the drive, Rydstrom looked back over his shoulder. “You’ll be a great king.”

Cadeon faced him with his eyes wet. “I don’t want to be bloody king! And I don’t want to lose my brother, just when things…just when you don’t hate me.”

“I
never
hated you.” Rydstrom gruffly added, “I love you, brother. And I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”

With Sabine in his arms and Lanthe trailing him, Rydstrom stepped through the smooth portal directly into the court of Tornin.

Immediately, he spied Omort upon his throne.

“What is this, Melanthe?” the sorcerer snapped.

The court was nearly empty—and even more revolting than it had been before. Bodies were piled up, flies buzzing in the stench. The walking-dead revenants lined the walls.

Rydstrom forced himself to ignore it all; only one thing mattered to him. Without hesitation, he strode toward the dais. Sabine writhed in his arms, her fingers clenched in pain.

But Omort halted him with a flick of his hand, freezing him where he stood. “The demon comes to me?” Omort smiled, his eyes maniacal. Then to Lanthe, he said, “You leave! Now!”

“Brother, look at her!” Lanthe sobbed. “She’s dying. You can’t let her die! Please!”

“Her heart has already stopped,” Rydstrom said. “She’ll perish in minutes—”

Omort leaned forward in the throne. “Open your mind to me, demon. Now!”

Rydstrom did, willing the sorcerer to see the truth—that all he wanted was for Sabine to be safe. “I’m told you have an antidote that will heal her. That’s all I seek.”

“You truly have no plan? There is no trick. You merely want your
little female
to be well. Because you’re in love with her?” He gave a bitter laugh. “I could not have punished you more, since loving her has brought me nothing but misery.”

“If you love her, then help her—”

“Wait…there’s more in your mind. Sabine, open your eyes.” After a moment, she blinked them open. “You’ve been dealt treachery from one sworn never to give it. The demon tricked you. You are
not
wed. He lied about the vow. Instead of swearing to protect you, he swore to hurt you.”

Sabine gazed up at Rydstrom, bloody tears gathering.

“By the look on your face, sister, I think he kept his word.”

Rydstrom wasn’t denying it.

Ah, gods, no!
She
wanted
to be his wife…. And she
wasn’t
? He’d lied?

No, focus, Sabine!

She would deal with this grief later. Right now she was in deep with a plot, and another wave of pain was coming. Once the shot wore off, she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.

Sabine knew this wave would be her last….

Omort continued, “Your treachery’s fitting, demon, since Sabine was going to murder your babe. Her own child. Weren’t you, Sabine? She and I planned to sacrifice it to the well to unlock its power. That’s why she was working so tirelessly to seduce you.”

“I don’t believe that,” Rydstrom said. “And you’ll never convince me of it.”

“Omort, we can do this later,” Lanthe cried. “She needs the morsus now!”

“And I’ll give it to her when the demon’s dead and you are gone! Now leave before I finish you.”

Lanthe’s tears ceased. Her eyes went cold. “No.”

“What did you say to me?” His words were dripping with malice.

“I said…
use—no—sorcery
.”

At Lanthe’s command, Sabine silently begged,
Please let this be the time. Everything rests on this…

Sabine’s amazement matched Omort’s—because when he raised his hands to punish Lanthe, his palms were cold.

Rydstrom tensed against her.

“What is this?” Omort bellowed, that vein pulsing in his forehead. His eyes darkening to a metallic yellow, he stalked after her. “I will make you burn, Melanthe!”

“Come no closer to me.”

Omort stopped abruptly, staring at Lanthe in bewilderment. “Guards!” he called for the mindless revenants. They marched from the perimeter as one, surrounding them with swords raised.

Lanthe faced them, and with her voice ringing out, she said, “Fight only each other.”

When they began engaging each other, clashing swords all around them, Lanthe ran for the double doors of the court, barricading them with their locking bar, buying time.

Sabine thought,
That’s my sister….

“No!” Omort yelled. “Demons!”

“Don’t call them!” Lanthe hissed, and Omort fell silent.

But with that command, Sabine sensed Lanthe’s power was depleted once more.

Rydstrom appeared stunned, even more when Sabine whispered, “I have something for you, demon.” She shakily tugged open the edge of one of the blankets that Nïx had bundled her in, presenting him with the sword that lay along her body. She’d asked the Valkyrie, “
Why are you doing this? For your army? Or for Rydstrom?”
Nïx had answered,
“Maybe I’m doing it for you.”

“Sabine, I don’t…you are sick?”

“I am, but Nïx gave me a shot…so I could have the strength to give this to you. But it’s starting to fade. You have to use this to kill Omort—”

“Then who will give you the antidote?”

“The Hag will help…but only after Omort dies. There’s not…much time, Rydstrom. Lanthe’s powers are weak…. Hettiah might come and erase her commands.”

“Then if I fight Omort, I risk you. There’s not
enough
time—”

“You can do this. You must. Destroy him forever. It’s your due….”

47

T
his was all a trick?

Sabine had warned him again and again.
I always have a plan,
she’d said.
Nothing is as it seems with me.

Here was his chance to destroy Omort, and as he took the sword from her, all he could wonder was if she had feigned her feelings for him.

No.
He knew his woman, and with everything in him he felt that she returned his love. “Sabine—”

“Kill first…talk later.
Please
.”

He gave a grave nod, then turned to Lanthe. “Come, take Sabine.”

She hurried over, clasping Sabine in her arms.

“If you’ve gotten your powers back, then heal her,” Rydstrom said.

“I’m out, demon. I’m tapped. I can’t help Sabine, I can’t stop the fire demons from eventually busting down that door, and I can’t freeze Omort for you to simply behead him. I forbade him to use sorcery, but he can still fight you.”

Rydstrom grasped the sword, rising up to slay a sorcerer. Omort’s yellow eyes seemed to bulge at the sight of the weapon.

“How did you get that inside here?
Sabine
?” He briefly appeared devastated, before his crazed look returned. To Rydstrom, he said, “You forced her to do this. She would never willingly betray me.”

From his scabbard, Omort drew a sword with a mystickal blade of concentrated fire. “Even without my sorcery, I will still take your head! I look forward to meeting you once more in battle—and I fight for her.”

I do, too.
“In any other circumstance, I’d want to savor killing you,” Rydstrom said, advancing on Omort. “But as much as I’ve envisioned this fight, I just don’t have time for it.” Never would he have imagined he’d be fighting Omort, not for his crown, but for the life of the woman he loved.

They began circling each other. Omort struck first, but Rydstrom made an easy parry, his sword sparking off Omort’s blade.

“My brother Groot forged that sword true,” Omort said. “Mine usually cuts through metal.” He charged once more, striking with a blinding speed.

Rydstrom blocked again. Omort was surprisingly good—just as he’d been nearly a millennium ago. He was fast, his eyes revealing nothing. He telegraphed no move.

Again, they circled, assessing each other for weaknesses. Omort surged forward, flying to get to his back. Rydstrom pivoted around with his sword for a clean block.

The sorcerer had skills and technique, but so did Rydstrom. And he could beat Omort’s speed with his strength.

When Rydstrom’s sword connected with Omort’s, he followed through with all the power in his body, making the sorcerer’s weapon quake in his own hands, jarring him with the merciless strike.

Again and again, their swords clashed. Then Rydstrom feinted, catching Omort off-guard, and delivered a particularly punishing blow against his sword. Omort staggered, his body growing weaker.

Just when Rydstrom made a charge to end this, Omort snatched off his cape, throwing it over Rydstrom’s head.

His vision obscured, Rydstrom leapt back, snatching at the material, just dodging the worst of Omort’s next blow. The blade of fire cleaved through Rydstrom’s shirt, searing a line across his chest.

The sorcerer came in for the kill right as he was able to see once more. Rydstrom switched sword hands as he twisted around, then swung a backhanded blow.

It landed true. Omort’s head thudded to the floor. His corpse dropped to its knees before slumping to the ground.

Need to get to Sabine
. But Rydstrom couldn’t repeat the mistake he’d made the last time he’d faced this foe. He forced himself to wait for the space of several heartbeats.

These moments feel longer than the nine hundred years I’ve waited for this….

The sorcerer did not regenerate. A wall of hanging tablets came crashing down, splintering across the floor. With the death of their master, the revenants dropped all around them.

Rydstrom clutched the hilt of the sword in thanks as he charged for Sabine. The weapon had fulfilled its fated task.

Lanthe murmured, “No longer deathless—”

Suddenly, the great doors of the court began bowing as fire demons fought to get inside. Rydstrom skidded to a stop, swinging around, readying for battle once more.

Over his shoulder, he said to Lanthe. “Still nothing?”

“No, but if we can make it out of here alive, we can get to the Hag—”

The doors began to smoke, then burn. Soon the remaining warriors of the Pravus, mainly fire demons, rushed in. The tide slowed when they spied Omort the Deathless, sprawled beheaded by his throne.

The call arose among the fire demons to take the castle. They surrounded Rydstrom, raising their palms alight with flames. With this many combining fire, they could kill him.
Too many…

Rydstrom heard Sabine scream again as the pain hit—

Suddenly, the fire demons’ attention shifted from Rydstrom to something behind him.

“Need some help?” Cadeon called.

When Rydstrom twisted around, he found his brother—and Cadeon’s entire crew of mercenaries—here and looking bloodthirsty.

It hit Rydstrom then—with Omort’s death, Cadeon could trace once more. And he’d led his men here.

Just as the mercenaries attacked, Sabine screamed again. Rydstrom charged for her, battering any opponents in his way. When he reached her, he shoved the sword in his belt, then cradled her in his arms. She’d gone unconscious.

Lanthe said, “We have to find the Hag! She’s the only one who can cure her.”

Rydstrom whisked Sabine up, storming from the court. Over his shoulder, he yelled, “Cadeon! Taking her for help!”

“I’ve got this!” his brother called back as he slashed at opponents with abandon. “I have some experience against these fucks! And I’m out for fire demon blood.”

Lanthe was right behind Rydstrom as they rushed for the exit. “Demon, head for the base—”

She was abruptly cut off. When Rydstrom swung around, he saw her skidding across the floor.

A wild-eyed Hettiah had tackled her, blocking her way to the door. “You and your sister will pay!”

Lanthe snatched up a sword from a fallen revenant. “Take Sabine! Go!”

Rydstrom turned, barreling down the corridor stairs, before remembering he could now teleport as well. He traced Sabine into the bowels of the castle. But there were chambers everywhere, connected by a twisting labyrinth of passages. He turned in a circle, bellowing, “Hag, where the hell are you?”

“In here,” she called. He followed the sound of her voice to a chamber that was exactly like he imagined a poisoner’s laboratory. Atop long tables were dissected creatures, fermenting potions, bubbling brews. Bats’ wings and frogs’ legs hung from the ceiling.

The Hag, however, was
not
what he was expecting. Instead of the crone, a pretty elven brunette stood before him, the woman he’d glimpsed before.

And she was packing.

“Save her…” Rydstrom rasped. “You have to save her.”

Without glancing up, she said, “And why should I?”

“Because I defeated Omort. I think his death has freed you.”

“Well, there is that.” She met his gaze. “For five hundred years, I’ve waited for the sorcerer’s curse to end. Lay Sabine on the table.” Rooting through a safe, she withdrew two wooden cases, opening the first one. Within it lay a vial of black liquid.

When the Hag offered the antidote, Rydstrom accepted it, then propped Sabine up, holding the vial to her pale lips. He glanced at the Hag. “Do you vow this will cure her?”

“Cure her of the morsus? Yes, I vow it. But I can’t help her with the bitchiness.”

He scowled at her, then dripped the contents between Sabine’s lips.

Waiting…nothing…
“Why’s it not doing anything?” he snapped.

She shook her head, baffled. “It should have worked by now. It must be too late.”