The demon glanced down at the dagger that had buried itself to the hilt between its breasts. It laughed and plucked it out. “A pinprick,” it rumbled. It snapped the blade in two and tossed the pieces aside. Then its eyes met Arvin’s. “But even pinpricks annoy me.”
Suddenly releasing Marasa, the demon slithered forward.
Marasa sagged, facedown, onto the floor.
Terrified, Arvin backed away from the approaching demon. Then he turned and ran. Leaping over the mangled remains of the soldiers, he sprinted out through the adjoining room and into the hall. Behind him, he heard the hiss of scales on stone. Soldiers ran toward him up the hall; he dodged around them, shouting at them to get out of the way. Metal clashed against metal and wet thunks sounded as the soldiers rushed up to attack the demon—and died. Arvin ran past the council chamber, past other rooms in which servants startled then screamed as they saw what was slithering after him, and past the practice hall.
As he ran, he manifested a sending. The image of Marasa formed in his mind’s eye. She was being helped to her feet by someone Arvin couldn’t see. She was shaky and unsteady—but alive. She startled as Arvin’s face appeared in her mind.
I’m leading the demon to the chapel, Arvin sent, praying that the demon wasn’t also capable of reading thoughts. Get Foesmasher to teleport you there. I’ll keep it busy until you can banish it.
Arvin, she croaked. Even her mental voice sounded awful; absorbing Glisena’s hurts had taken its toll. I’ll come as quickly as I can.
“Little mouse,” the demon taunted from behind Arvin. “I can smell your fear. What a tasty little morsel you will be.”
A blade swished through the air just over Arvin’s head. A second blade thunked into the doorframe next to him as he pelted into the chapel. He raced for the gauntlet at the far end of the room, his breathing ragged and heart pounding. Leaping onto the dais, he slapped both palms against the gauntlet. He skittered around behind it, both hands still on the polished silver, placing the statue between himself and the demon.
The demon halted at the edge of the dais. Lazily regarding him through slit eyes, it coiled its scaly tail under itself. “Little morsel,” it hissed. “Come down from there.”
“Make me,” he said, staring defiantly into its eyes. The demon bared its teeth, hissing. Its incisors were long and curved, like a snake’s. Arvin wondered if they held venom.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway: Marasa? The demon’s head started to turn.
One palm still pressed tight to the gauntlet, Arvin plunged his other hand into his pocket and found the monkey’s fist. “Here,” he said to the demon, hurling the knot of twine. “Catch.”
Even as the monkey’s fist unknotted, the demon raised its swords. Six blades flashed through the air, chopping the magical twine to pieces. The frayed remains fell at its feet. The demon cocked its head then frowned. “I grow weary of this.”
“So do I,” Arvin said in a loud voice, hoping to cover the sound of footsteps in the hall. Marasa would have a better chance if she was able to surprise the demon. She could banish it before it got a chance to teleport out of the spell’s path.
“But I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve,” Arvin bluffed. “One that’s bound to—”
He faltered as he saw who was coming down the hall. Not Marasa, as he had desperately hoped, but Karrell.
“Arvin!” she called. “What is happening? Are you—” She jerked to a halt just inside the room as she saw the demon. Her eyes widened.
The demon turned.
Karrell immediately began to cast a spell, but even as she raised her hands, the demon lashed out with one of its swords. Karrell twisted out of its path, but the blade caught her raised right hand. Blood sprayed and fingers flew to the floor. Karrell gasped and clutched her wounded hand.
The demon snaked its tail across the doorway, blocking it, and prodded Karrell with one of its swords. “Go ahead,” it hissed with malicious delight. “Try to flee.”
Arvin tried to manifest a distraction, but though a loud droning filled the air, the demon’s eyes remained locked on Karrell. He leaned out from the dais and kicked the demon in the back. A shock of weakness flowed up his leg as his foot struck one of the black tendrils that coiled around the demon’s body. Ignoring the numbness it caused, he shouted at the demon’s back and kicked it a second time. “Hey, scale-face! Behind you!”
Almost absent-mindedly, the demon turned its head and slashed backhanded at him with one of its swords. Arvin flinched as the blade came to a jerking halt a palm’s width from his head, halted by the magic of the gauntlet. A heartbeat later, a whirling circle of blades appeared, this time surrounding the gauntlet and trapping Arvin inside. Cursing, he shrank back from them, his sweaty palms still on the statue. A moment ago, the gauntlet had provided sanctuary. The demon had turned it into a prison.
The momentary distraction, however, gave Karrell the time she needed. The far end of the chapel was suddenly plunged into darkness, hiding her from sight.
The demon frowned then twisted, whipping its tail through the patch of darkness. Arvin heard Karrell gasp—and the tail yanked her back into the light. Caught within the demon’s coils, Karrell fought to free herself, her wounded hand leaving smears of blood on the demon’s scaly tail. The demon lapped at the blood with its long black tongue then smiled. “A yuan-ti?” it said. “You must be the one I’m supposed to kill.” It tail squeezed—and Karrell exhaled in pain. Arvin heard a dull crack that sounded like a rib breaking.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway—more than one person, and running this time—and a woman’s voice was shouting orders: Marasa?
Arvin looked wildly around the chapel. He was weaponless, and the monkey’s fist—the last of his ensorcelled items—was lying on the floor in tatters. If he let go of the gauntlet, he’d be cut down before he took a single step. But Marasa was at last on her way. He and Karrell only needed to survive for a few moments more.
“Helm,” he croaked. “Help us now. Do something.”
The skies outside lightened. Dusk-red sunlight slanted in through the chapel’s stained-glass windows, turning the blue eyes at their centers an eerie purple. The light beamed in, limning the image of Helm’s eye on the chapel floor.
With a hiss, the demon thrust its sword at the nearest window, smashing a hole through the eye. Glass exploded outward. The skies outside darkened again as the sun continued its descent.
As a loose pane of glass fell from the broken window to shatter on the floor, Arvin realized there was a weapon he could use, after all. He reached out with his mind, sending a thread-thin line of glowing silver toward the broken window. With it, he seized one of the panes of glass and threw it at the demon’s face. The demon batted it away with a sword, smashing it into bright blue shards, but Arvin hurled another pane of glass at it, and another, keeping up the distraction.
Four of the baron’s soldiers—three men and a woman—charged into the chapel, swords in hand. The woman shouted a command, and Arvin’s heart sank as he realized it hadn’t been Marasa’s voice he’d heard, after all. The soldiers leaped forward, engaging the demon.
The demon, however, needed only four swords to meet their attack. One of the men went down even before he’d managed to close with it, his throat slashed. With its fifth sword, the demon continued to knock away the panes of glass Arvin hurled at it. That left one more sword. This one it thrust at Karrell; it thunked into the wooden floor beside her head as she desperately twisted aside.
Karrell’s face was purple now and her movements were jerky. The demon—still fighting the soldiers with three of its arms—yanked the sword free and flexed its tail, dragging Karrell across the floor.
The female soldier pressed the demon, shouting Helm’s name. The demon thrust a sword through her stomach, spitting her, then flicked her limp body away. One of the two remaining soldiers turned to run; with a flash of steel, the demon lopped off his head. The other grimly continued to attack but met the same end.