Shadow's Witness (32 page)

Yrsillar roared, balled his hand, and drove his fist into Gale’s chest.

The blow crashed down on Cale with the force of a maul.

Cale careened backward off the altar awl flew through the air, arms flailing. Only the remnant of his enchanted leather armor kept bis ribs from shattering.

He crashed four rows deep among the pews and collapsed in an awkward heap of bones and wood. His sword flew from his grasp and clattered away.

Battered and gasping for breath, he knew then that he was a dead man. He had failed Thazienne, had failed Mask, had failed himself. Yrsillar would finish him before he drew another breath.

The shadow demon swooped for Jak. Ready, and still clutching his holy symbol, Jak spat the magical words to a spell, “
rare luxos,” and pointed at the diving demon.p>

Instantly, a glaring light flared in the demon’s eyes, turned the milky-white orbs into glowing opals. Blinded in the middle of its headlong descent, it clawed wildly at its face and tried to pull up.

Nimbly leaping pews, Jak dived to the side as the enraged creature crashed to the floor and sent pews flying. Still hissing in anger, it climbed to its feet and flailed about with its daws in a mad effort to locate him.

Teed on you,” it hissed, enraged. “Feed.”

It swept wide arcs with its daws. Jak scrambled over and under the pews to avoid its reach, but it pressed him relentlessly. His spell would last for hours, but he would run out of room to run long before that.

The shadow* demon sniffed at the air as it lashed about, tike a vile hound searching for the scent trail. Jak knew that despite its blindness it could somehow sense him. He had been invisible in the Soargyl bedroom and still one had sniffed him out. He kept moving, dodging over and under pews.

It stayed on him, always one step behind, but never giving him time to plan a course of action. Jak could sense its hunger for him. It hissed and beat its wings in angry frustration. Purple veins pulsed beneath leathery skin. Its rancid-meat smell made Jak want to gag, but he dared not make a sound. He hid behind a pew, gasping, mind racing, and tried to think.

He dared not close to attack, even from the rear. An inadvertent strike by one of the enraged demon’s claws would dispel his protective aura. He could cast the same spell again, of course, but that would take time. Time that he wouldn’t have if he were in hand-to-hand combat with the demon. If he went too long without the protective spell, the plane would kill him.

“Feed. Feeeed.”

It dosed on him He readied himself and pulled two of his throwing daggers free.

Might as well see if plain steel can hurt it in this form, he thought. He touched each blade to his luckstone, raised his arm, threw, and darted away.

When the demon erupted in a pained squeal, Jak smiled. Thank you, Lady, he thought to Tymora. The blades had struck home.

Feed on that, wretch, he thought with a grin.

Teeed on you, little creature. Feeeed.”

Leaping behind another pew, Jak placed his holy symbol in bis belt pouch and jerked another dagger free of its sheath. Pumped full of adrenaline, and focused only on the demon, he suddenly felt no fear. The realization changed him. He had been frightened only moments before and he remembered being utterly terrified back at the Soargyls the last time he had faced one of these creatures.

Fm getting more like Gale every da—

Abruptly, the demon’s hissing ceased and gave way to a series of softly muttered words. Jak didn’t recognize the language, but he recognized the intonation and cadence of spellcasting.

By the gods, spells?

He peeked over the pew.

The opalescent glow had vanished from the demon’s eyes. The creature had dispelled Jak’s cantrip, and now it could see him. Its milky white eyes instantly discovered him.

It stalked forward, wings beating.

“Dark,” Jak oathed.

He rose from behind the pew, dagger and short sword ready. The demon’s hunger hit him tike a bitter wind, but he vowed not to give in to fear, vowed to give this demonic bastard the fight of its life. The last time he had faced one of these creatures, he’d frozen up, humiliated himself by wetting his pants.

“Not this time,” he promised himself.

“Come on,” he said through fritted teeth, and beckoned it forward with his bWe*—

At that moment, a victorious roar from the front of

the shrine jerked his head around. He watched as Yrsillar swiped a daw through Gale’s midsection, followed by a crushing blow to the chest that sent his Mend flailing through toe air to crash among the front rowsofpews^

“Caler

The shadow demon took advantage of Jak’s lapse and leaped forward, quick as an adder to strike the little man.

Though the strength behind the daw nearly knocked the blade from His fist, Jak managed a parry with his dagger, A second claw rake followed. Jak leaped backward out of range then immediately lunged forward with his short sword. He was too slow. The demon backed off in a crouch and hissed, its claws weaving hypnotically through the air.

Jak saw his death in those daws. The demon was too fast, and when it hit him, his protective aura would flare out—

“Burn me,” he said, an idea dawning.

The demon’s touch would probably dispel the aura, but in the process its energy would hurt the creature, the original intent behind Jak’s spell.

The beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind, a desperate gambit He would probably die, but if he did, he hoped to take the demon with

Gale righted himself and scrambled to all fours, expecting Yrsillar to thunder toward him at any moment. His lungs ached and his head throbbed. Dazed, he crawled for his sword. When he dosed his fist over the hilt, he saw the white vapor of his soul bleeding from the skin on his hand. It billowed bade toward the altar, back toward Yrsillar. Already he was

beginning to feel the effect it had on him. He was growing weaker by the instant. In minutes he would be dead. He lifted his increasingly heavy head and looked out over tiie pew.

Surprisingly, Yrsillar remained on the dais. The voids of his eyes focused on Gale and he began to laugh. Gale quailed before that terrible_ sound and ducked back behind the pew, breathing hard.

“I can taste your despair, Erevis Gale,” Yrsillar said. “Only now, at tine very last, do you realize your felly.”

Summoning his courage, Gale again looked over the top of the pew. Yrsillar made no move to come finish the fight. Instead, he seemed content to let Gale die slowly. With the protective aura dispelled, the gray vapor of Gale’s soul flowed into Yrsillar.

While he watched, the great demon sucked in the streams of Ms life-force. The demon’s great body shuddered in ecstasy with each mouthful. Gale wanted to vomit. He was watching his soul be devoured piecemeal.

Yrsillar laughed as he feasted. Tfour weakness is apparent to you now, is it not, Erevis Gale?” He gobbled in still more. “So fares the so-called Champion of Mask. So fare any who rely on gods for salvation.”

Or course, Gale had not relied on Mask for salvation, had not relied on Mask for anything. He did now. Prayer came hard to him, but he quelled his pride and did it.

Lend me strength, Shadowlord, he thought. If I’m to be your Champion, lend me strength.

His body suddenly grew less sluggish. Shielded from Yrsillar by the pews and invigorated by the prayer, he crawled along the row until he reached the center aisle.

“I will not give up” he vowed, the words hollow in the face of his weakness. “I will not!”

Yrsillar’s laughter mocked bis resolve. The demon lord continued to devour bis soul, piece by piece.

Gale knew he had to retrieve Jak and get the Nine Hells out of here. The little man had been right all along—they should not have fought Yrsillar on his home plane. They needed to get back to their own plane fast or they would both die here.

I let my anger and pride blind me. He should have heeded Thamalon’s advice—unbridled aggression had been his enemy. His fear of losing himself had been his enemy. -„

The sudden understanding brought him to reach into his pocket and pull out the felt mask. Its touch brought him comfort. He realized now that espousing a faith did not mean surrendering himself; it meant the possibility of bettering himself. In a flash of inspiration, he realized that his lifelong derision of religion had its true origin not in his fear of losing himself but in his own self-hatred. He had pretended to despise religion because he had deemed himself unworthy of it. But his own standards had been too high, Mask had called him, and Mask knew Gale’s flaws.

He thought of Jak and Ansril Ammhaddan, both of them priests, and both of them flawed men, but both good men, too. For the first time in his life, Gale realized that the one did not exclude the other—he could be both flawed and good. With that, he took the final step toward faith.

I accept, godsdammit, he thought to Mask. He only wished he had done so sooner. He had become Mask’s Champion only to die at Yrsillar’s hands. The irony almost drew a smile.

Still, he’d be damned if he’d die without a fight. He jumped to his feet.

Yrsillar’s laughter immediately ceased. “You are going nowhere!”

Gale didn’t dare turn around. He ran back toward the double doors as fast as his weakened legs would carry him.

From the corner of his eye, Jak saw Gale sprinting toward him. His protective spell was gone! He trailed the mist of his soul behind him like smoke from a flickering candle.

With Jak momentarily distracted, the shadow demon raised a claw.

Jak staggered backward out of reach. Gale shouted to biiTi as he closed.

“I’m coming, little man!” <

The shadow demon turned its head toward Gale.

Seeing his opportunity, Jak charged, arms wide in an embrace. Too late, the demon tried to bound backward. Jak crashed into it and wrapped hisJWtefi^s around its leathery midsection in a great hug. Brilliant golden light flared blindingly bright. As the protective aura dissipated, its energy ŤEpicxle*iat0 the shadow demon. The stink of charred demon flesh filled Jak’s nostrils. The creature screamed, spasmed, and tried to pull away, but Jak held on. Absently, he noted the feel of the creature’s skin, cold and flabby, like a wineskin filled with ke water. A claw tore painfully across his back. He screamed but held on. Another daw gripped him around the head, lifted him into the air, and flung him away like a rag doll.

He grunted, hitting the ground awkwardly. Jak looked up to see the demon standing over him, its abdomen and torso horribly burned and smoking.

Gale appeared behind it, long sword overhead. He chopped across and neatly swiped the demon’s head off Milky-white eyes widened with surprise, and the

shadow demon soundlessly collapsed. Thick purple liquid trickled from its neck.

“Gale!”

“Little man.” Gale extended a hand and helped him to his feet “We’re leaving.”

“Good,” Jak said. When he gripped Gale’s forearm, he saw their souls bleeding from both of them. Hie gray mist rose from their skin and floated back toward the altar where Yrsillar still stood, eating. Jak felt weakened already, but whether from the drain or the bleeding wound in his back, he couldn’t tell.

“You cannot escape me,” Yrsillar boomed, but remained on the dais.

Gale steered Jak for the door. “Let’s move.”

Behind them, Yrsillar began to mouth the words to a spell.

“Dark! I didn’t know they could cast spells, Gale. I swear I didn’t.”

Theyran.

Jak glanced behind them to see that a distortion had formed in the air before Yrsillar. In a voice as loud as thunder, the demon lord spat the final magical syllables of the spell and pointed a clawed hand at Gale and Jak. At once the distortion spread out and took on the shape of a wave, a tide of pure nothingness. Pulsing with power, it undulated toward them like a great worm. Picking up speed, it swallowed pews, floors, and ceilings, and left only blanknessin its wake. Yrsillar and the dais sat amidst an ocean of absolute emptiness.

Jak found the emptiness hypnotic, the oblivion tempting.

“You’re going nowhere!” the demon lord boomed again.

“Run!” Gale ordered, looking over his shoulder and pulling Jak along. “Run!”

Jak ran. Trailing wisps of soul in their wake, they ran down the rest of the aisle as quick as they could, crashed through the doors, and sped down the hallway for the gate that led back home.

Right behind them and gaining, the wave burst through the door, wall, and floor. It consumed everything in its path. They reached the gate. Gale lifted Jak to throw him through.

^o,” Jak said. “We go together or not at all.”

The wave sped toward them. Gale didn’t argue. He nodded, picked Jak up, and slung him over his back. “Hang on.”

The wave closed in, swallowing everything. Looking into its emptiness, Jak felt dizzy. He closed his eyes and clutched Gale around the neck.

“Go!” he screamed. “Go!”

Gale backed up a few steps, spun on his heel, and sprinted forward. The wall of nothingness seemed about to engulf the colors of the gate; to swallow them in emptiness. :c

“Gale!” Jak was face to face with the void. Bile raced up his throat. They wouldn’t make it!

Gale took a final stride and leaped into the air.

Jak’s final shout resounded in his mind but Gale could make no reply. He felt his body stretched as thin as parchment and a tingling that quickly grew painful, as though tiny needles had been driven into his pores. There was light and color.

“Oomph!”

“Dllarlk!”

They toppled from the gate and collapsed to the floor in a heap. They quickly disentangled themselves from one another and tried to recover their bearings.

Above them, a pulsing void of emptiness swirled in the air—the other side of the gate that they had just traveled through. With each pulse, it pulled the hairs upright on Gale’s arms and head, like a tide trying to pull him back to sea. The pull of the void.

He took a deep breath, inhaled the acrid and coppery air of the real guildhouse. He sat up and looked around.

Corpse after bloody corpse Uttered the hall, over twenty of them, all gutted and decapitated. They were the ghouls he and Jak had slaughtered in their vaporous forms back in the Abyss.