Nix charged barefoot across the roof, falchion held in a two-handed grip, shouting oaths.
Egil's roar answered the devil's hungry growl and when he was close enough, Egil slammed the crowbar he still clutched into the devil's teeth. The blow shattered another tooth and fragments of it flew in all directions. The devil shrieked with agony, spasmed with pain, and reflexively hurled Egil across the rooftop. The priest hit the wall near the door, near the old woman, and sagged to the ground once more.
The devil whirled to face Nix, arms coiled for a strike, but Nix did not slow. He parried a swing of the devil's arm, rode the momentum of the parry into a spin, leaped over a swing from the other arm, and slashed downward at the creature's shoulder. His blade rang off the scales, and he bounded backward. A fanged mouth snapped at his ear. He ducked as the mouth bit again and the teeth collected a tithe of his hair rather than his flesh. He unleashed a twisting backhand swing of his falchion and the blade cut into the devil's arm. Teeth snapped all around him as he spun, slashed, twisted, and leaped. He loosed a furious onslaught of slashes and stabs, his blade mostly bouncing off the devil's hide, but occasionally opening a scratch. The devil's arms swarmed around him, the fanged mouths snapping in the air, snatching at his clothes. He tried to lead the creature toward the edge of the floor that overlooked the Shelf, hoping to somehow trick the devil into falling over the side, but the devil did not come near when Nix retreated to the edge.
Egil stirred, one leg bending at the knee. Rakon, too, was trying to rise, still coughing and spitting blood. The devil cared nothing for either. He roared and lumbered at Nix.
Nix darted to the side, slashing defensively with his blade. He stumbled over the lead line of a thaumaturgic triangle and went down. He whirled to see the twin mouths on the end of the devil's arms streaking toward his face. He rolled to his side but too slow. One of the mouths closed on his arm, the sphincter of fangs twisting as it clamped down.
Blinding pain summoned a shout of agony from Nix. Blood poured from the wound, the devil's arm pulsing grotesquely as it nursed fluid from his arm. Nix slashed down with his falchion to dislodge the bite, once, twice, and the creature released his arm in a spray of blood.
He staggered backward, bleeding profusely, already weakening. The devil did not relent. His arms flailed for him, his mouths snarled and snapped, as he moved toward Nix on the thick cylinders of his legs.
Nix's eyes fell to the floor and a desperate stratagem occurred to him. He acted before he'd thought it through. He circled wide to draw the devil toward the binding circle inlaid into the wood. The moment the devil stepped within it, Nix dove forward on his belly, touched the activating glyph on the circle, and shouted a word in the Language of Creation.
Instantly the circle flared and a translucent green sphere of power encapsulated the deviclass="underline" another prison for Abrak-Thyss, albeit a temporary one.
Realizing what had happened, the creature roared with frustration.
Nix scrabbled backward, bleeding, breathing hard, while the devil flailed his arms and railed his anger against his binding. Where he struck the sphere, sparks of energy flew. Nix knew the circle would not hold for long. He didn't know the proper incantation to use the glyph properly, and even if he did he doubted it could have held Abrak-Thyss for long.
"Stay there," he said to the creature, but couldn't even muster a grin.
Still bleeding from his shoulder, he turned around to find Rakon standing and Egil on all fours, coughing. The sorcerer eyed the bound devil, Nix, then Egil. Fear entered his expression and he ran for the half-open door. He staggered as he went, favoring his side, and Nix thought he'd make it, but Egil saw him, roared, scrambled to his feet, and proved the faster. The priest tackled Rakon right before the door and they went down in a scrum of arms and legs. The sorcerer was no match for Egil's strength and size, and almost instantly the priest was astride him, his huge fists slamming into Rakon's head and face again and again.
Rakon shrieked, wailed as blood sprayed, bone crunched, and teeth flew. The sorcerer held his hands up, feebly trying to grab Egil's thick arms or deflect the priest's furious onslaught, but to no avail. The old woman near the door looked on, a dazed look in her eyes, her hand to her mouth in shock.
"Egil!" Nix called, and stumbled toward him, trying to stanch the blood leaking from his shoulder.
But the priest either did not hear him or did not acknowledge him.
"Your own sisters!" Egil said, and hammered Rakon's face again, again. "Your own sisters! We saw it, you fakking monster! We saw it!"
The devil shrieked in rage, the binding circle sizzling as he tried to break free.
"Your own sisters!" Egil said again, repeating the phrase with every punch, the words a vengeful incantation.
Rakon went limp under him and still Egil did not stop. The priest would beat Rakon to death if Nix did not stop him.
"Your own sisters!"
Nix staggered to his friend's side, caught his right hand by the wrist.
Egil whirled on him, tears in his eyes, left hand cocked.
"You can't beat it out of you by beating him!" Nix said.
The priest stared at him, blinking, pain in his eyes.
"You can't, Egil," Nix said, more softly. "We saw it. We felt it, at least in part. It'll never be out."
Egil lowered his fists, looked over at the old woman. There were tears in her eyes, too. Egil slouched, started to weep.
Rakon groaned, his face a broken, bloody mess.
Behind them, the devil raged in his prison.
They didn't have much time.
"I have an idea," Nix said, staring at Rakon.
Egil looked up, his bushy brows raised in a question.
Nix glanced over at the old woman, who was trembling against the wall. "Get her for me, Egil."
"Nix…"
"I'm not going to hurt her. You know me better than that." He nodded at Rakon. "I'm going to hurt him. Get me Rusilla, if you'd prefer."
The devil's attack on the binding circle grew frenetic, his rage-filled slams against the magic causing it to spark and flare.
"Hurry," Nix said.
While Egil gathered Rusilla, Nix tore a strip of his clothing and did his best to tie off his shoulder wound. Egil laid Rusilla down gently on the floor near Nix. Her eyes were open and she stared into Nix's face.
"I'm touching only your hand," Nix said to her, not sure if she could hear him.
He took her hand in his, removed the transmutation wand from his satchel, and activated it with a word in the Mages' Tongue. Once more the gold cap glowed and the wand warmed in his hand.
"What are you doing?" Egil asked.
"Watch," he said, and touched it to Rusilla.
"I still don't see…" the priest said.
Nix then touched the wand to Rakon. "Let him experience what he intended for them."
Rakon's eyes snapped open as the magic poured into him. As the transformation began, his eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream.
The sorcerer's facial features softened. His body lost height, gained hips, his waist narrowed, his chest swelled with breasts. In moments the magic had turned him from sorcerer to sorceress.
"What have you done to me?" Rakon said, his now high-pitched voice slurred. The transformation had healed some of his wounds. His face was bruised, red in places, but not the ruin Egil had left it moments before.
"You wanted to honor your damnable Pact, whoreson," Nix said, and jerked him to his feet. "So you will."
Accompanied by Egil, he dragged Rakon toward the devil, who still flailed and raged frenetically against his binding. Rakon seemed dazed, not quite understanding what Nix intended.
"Do you understand me, beast?" Nix said to Abrak-Thyss.