"Will you," said Kizoni. "Undress me?"

  Without a word, Deckard shifted the gown carefully from Kizoni’s shoulders. He folded the dress away, and gently laid her against the bed. Their love made the night warm for a time. She cried out when he changed, and he saw fear in her eyes when they were finished.

  Weakness overcomes will.

  Hours later, he fled the palace in the dark before dawn. Shadows hid his wretched deformity in the hours before the sun rose, concealing the beast that emerged from within him when the curse took hold.

  VUAL MET HIS BROTHER at the foot of the stairs in the morning. The lightened sound of Ruar's irregular gait on the staircase told him the younger man’s mood had improved. Vual hated seeing Ruar sneak out to meet with Catricha the previous day. His brother showed a real sign of their intentions together.

  He never liked Catricha, but he could've borne her and his brother joining as one before the murders began. The rain after last night’s killing threatened to wash all that freshly-spilled blood into the gutters. Vual folded his arms and regarded Ruar as his younger brother reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "Where you going?" he asked.

  "I'm going to meet with some friends," said Ruar. "Fellow gallant poets.”

  “I think you mean you’re going to meet with one poet in particular."

  Ruar inclined his head toward Vual and grunted. "Who do you suspect?”

  "Catricha Maltos.” Vual added a bite of bitterness to his voice. "Or did my eyes deceive me yesterday?"

  "They deceived you not," Ruar said through clenched teeth. "Don’t follow me again, brother."

  "I was following her. She is the one behind the death of my friends."

  "I knew Adias as you did," said Ruar. "I liked Saviron too."

  "Then how can you court that harlot, still?" Vual bared his teeth in a snarl. “She had something to do with their deaths’, even if she didn't directly attack them."

  "No. You're wrong. You won’t change my mind.”

  “Change your mind?" Vual growled. "Brother, I will not take your lecture."

  "And I've no reason to endure yours. Stand aside."

  "Make me,” said Vual.

  "You won't allow anything.” Ruar’s face flushed with anger. "But I will take my freedom from you."

  "Is that a challenge?" said Vual. "I’m a far stronger warrior and mage than you, brother."

  "I'll give you my best strike.”

  "Don't," said Filavaye from the corner passage.

  Their mother stepped into the front hall of the house. The entryway to the dining room was brightly lit by morning sunlight, but Filavaye's face was a stern storm cloud.

  "My sons won’t clash in my house. Nor shall you do battle outside. You must measure your words, Vual. As of now, you and Ruar are evenly matched."

  "Mother.” Vual glared at Ruar. “I know things he refuses to believe about House Maltos."

  Filavaye shook her head. "The Maltos have been family rivals for a long time, and though we both know your positions, I suspect one of you is more pragmatic than the other in this regard."

  "Neither of us is pragmatic," said Vual. "If I may correct you slightly mother."

  "Maybe so.” Filavaye smiled like viper. "But an alliance is more valuable than a vendetta, and your blood feud with Catricha Maltos is no longer of any interest to me, son."

  “You're not on my side, are you mother?" Vual said.

  “Hardly, but one of you will become the Prince of Alliance. When that happens, that one will have the power to do whatever they wish. The other will be unable to prevent you."

  "So if I become prince," said Ruar. "I can have my way?"

  "In some regards.”

  Ruar’s eyes widened. "I don't believe you’d allow that.”

  "You'd better," said Vual. "Because now you're my rival too. If you are a potential prince. Now that you have a reason to become ruler of the city, I must beat you as thoroughly as if you were a member of another house."

  “Both of you must beware of Hadrian.” Filavaye scowled. “He may be our ancestor, but he is not our friend."

  "What makes you say so, mother?" said Ruar. "I've not even met him and you’re afraid of him?"

  "Not afraid," said Filavaye. "Wary."

  Vual grunted as the heat rose to his face. "He followed me a week ago when I went riding.”

  "Where were you?” Ruar glanced at him. “Do you know why he followed you, Vual?”

  "He followed me into the forest when I was hunting south of the city in the night. He protected my rivals and me by slaying a demon spawn."

  "A demon spawn?" said Filavaye. "Were you planning to tell me about this at any point, son?"

  "I just told you now.” Vual’s teeth clenched. "I don't feel the need to share every detail of my life with you, mother. I'm a man now."

  "You’re better off sharing what you know," said Filavaye. "Because we are on the same side, you and I."

  "Not if you’ll help Ruar supplant me as prince.” Vual’s essences hummed in his ears, though he might not be a match for Filavaye’s magic. “If either of us become prince and that shadow is still out there, we will not have long to live."

  "The shadow threatened all potential princes," said Filavaye. "But that shadow is not what you should be afraid of. Neither should you fear Deckard Hadrian. Fear me, because I'm the one who can release you from this family. Your life or death no longer matter if you aren’t a Kuldettan."

  Ruar stared at Filavaye, eyes wide. "You may miss me less than Vual."

  "I mean it for both of you," said their mother. "Don't consider yourselves unique."

  "So.” Vual folded his arms. "It's begun."

  "What is?" Ruar clucked. "What has begun?"

  "Our rivalry. I won't crush you outright.” Vual felt his face grow wide with a savage grin. "Not without a small hint of regret, brother. For now, you’re not going anywhere.”

  Ruar hissed, then retreated up the steps, his feet pounding at an odd tempo on the stone.

  THE PARTY MET AT THE gate to the amphitheater, then went inside. Melissa led the way, with Galocai behind her. The rest of the hunters from House Graef followed them, Bethanelle among as their leader.

  The eight hunters with Bethanelle, Elaine, Galocai, and Melissa descended into the catacombs.

  Bows and swords hung upon their shoulders. They held lighter weapons in their hands. Melissa carried her spear forward, pointing the tip along the passage. Elaine and Galocai carried short swords, though Elaine seemed unsure what to do with hers. She kept the weapon buckled to her belt in a scabbard.

  I hope you won’t need that, my friend.

  The twelve of them made their way through the passages toward the inverted theater below the great amphitheater of Alliance. They gazed upon the same sights Catricha and Ruar had witnessed the previous day. In grim silence, they moved. Through shadows lit only by sprites with their songs almost entirely quieted, they crept into the depths.

  Melissa and Galocai exchanged glances as they stepped into the stands of the inverted amphitheater. On the stage below them, no sign remained of the statue the sleepless had been cleaning. No people either, Melissa thought. she knew there were sleepless around from the faint songs of essences resonating from the pits between the seats surrounding the stage.

  “How deep does this go?" asked Elaine.

  "I don't know.” Melissa raised an eyebrow. "Galocai?"

  "We'll find out,” he said.

  "Yes.” Melissa continued to lead with her spear as they descended the steps. She kept her thoughts close to Fanhedon, ready to summon the spirit of the demon at any moment.

  "Demons live within these statues.” Elaine pointed at the ceiling and the faces that leered at them from the angles of the amphitheater walls.

  "Are you certain?” asked Galocai.

  "They must be demons because their hearts resonate with only banes, and they are definitely resonating."

  "But they're not moving," said Melissa. "They're just waiting. I can scarcely even hear anything from them."

  "They’re sleeping," said Elaine. “Their heart-songs are quieter as a result.”

  "Demons sleep?” Galocai frowned at Elaine. “Are they sleeping here for some particular reason?"

  Elaine shrugged without a word.

  "Hunters.” Bethanelle motioned for her people to fan out. "Protect the passages to the surface. Let the mages proceed forward if true demons are afoot."

  Melissa nodded and stiffened her resolve with her spine. “You can stay with your hunters, Bethanelle. We'll find the people below."

  "If you have any trouble, rush back and we’ll assist you." said Bethanelle.

  Melissa shook her head. “No, my lady. If you hear us in too much trouble, you should head for the surface to tell the city what is happening. We can escape on our own, as we have magic on our side."

  "We'll take any warning you give as a chance to escape ourselves?” said Bethanelle. "That seems cowardly."

  "Do what you have to do," said Melissa. "If it looks like we can't win, though, plan to flee."

  "Life as a coward is better than death.” Galocai gave Bethanelle a grin. "That’s always been my philosophy."

  Elaine folded her hands and then spread them, sending her sprites flying through the amphitheater to illuminate the deep pits on either side of the tiny stage.

  Long ladders carved into the stonework on both sides of the pits were barely wide enough for a human to traverse vertically.

  Melissa frowned. "Do we think that's where they went?" She pointed toward the ladders.

  "We'll have to check," said Galocai.

  Elaine directed her sprites to gather on the stage. They formed a brilliant, circular beacon. "We have to make sure that they're not plotting more murders down here."

  "Murders.” Melissa nodded. “People can be as monstrous as demons."

  Galocai took the first step forward. "I agree. Let’s go."

  The three of them descended the stairs to reach the stage. There, they gazed into one of the shafts, standing side-by-side. Below them lay a vast chamber. The stone ladders remained intact and led directly into an abyss of darkness lit by small torches.

  "How big is this room?" asked Elaine.

  "Enormous," said Galocai. "Far more extensive than the catacombs under any other city as far as I know."

  "We in the east aren’t known for our underground territories.” Elaine whistled. “This is new to me.”

  "And to me," said Melissa. "But this place is stranger. It must predate what stands above us."

  "A city beneath a city?" said Galocai.

  "Possibly," said Melissa. "Catricha Maltos and Ruar Kuldettan seemed to think such a thing was possible.”

  "Terrifying.” Galocai’s face looked like a grim mask, though he didn’t wear his feathers, but let them float in the grip of the essences by his side.

  "Who wants to go first?" asked Elaine.

  "I'll go," said Melissa. "If anything happens, I can assume Fanhedon’s form."

  "It's a long way down.” Elaine turned to Melissa. "Be careful, my friend."

  "I will be.”

  Melissa climbed onto a ladder and descended into the depths of the pit. The shaft widened into a huge atrium below. Using Elaine’s sprites for light, she was able to see through the darkness. Torches and small fires flickered like sparks on the sprawling cavern floor below her. Columns rose from the floor to support an arching ceiling, the center of which Melissa hung on the ladder’s stone grips.

  The amphitheater in the cavern above isn’t an theater at all, but the highest chamber of a vast dome. What is this place? Who built it?

  Melissa didn’t have time to think much further as she descended.

  A bolt of screaming sprite-flame shot from below. The fire streaked toward her and the ladder where she climbed, still more than a hundred spans above the floor.

  Assuming Fanhedon's form, Melissa hurled herself from the ladder. She yelled a warning to her friends above as she fell, and reinforced her spear with her iron bane, holding the weapon above her until the last second before impact.

  Melissa struck outward with as much force as she could against the floor, tossing a vast cloud of dust upward. Flames guttered or went out completely throughout the chamber.

  The blast of her windy impact shattered the silence and sent rocks and debris flying from her landing. Her legs shuddered but held thanks to Fanhedon’s armored might.

  She raised her shimmering metallic mask and straighted her back, her sacra form under her will.

  "You called upon me quickly," Fanhedon said through Melissa’s mind. "I’m glad for your trust, Melissa."

  "I need more than I can do on my own," Melissa answered silently. "I must defeat these foes if we’re going to get back the surface with the others."

  She looked this way and that, eyes piercing the darkness with the help of Fanhedon’s demonic senses. She spotted people scurrying from the ruins of their fires. The ragged sleepless disappeared into passages on either side of the chamber. Only a single form stood before her, the shape of a demonic statue with spidery legs. It moved slightly, turning glistening eyes on her.

  Melissa took her spear in both hands. She rushed at the demon.

  The demon’s face was slender and toothy. A bulbous back sat behind the face. Eight legs protruded from the body to carry the monster’s weight. Two additional forearms of human proportion and shape hung in front of the body, and the demon held glowing sprite strings between those human hands.

  “A spider would spread silk.” Melissa rushed at the demon.

  "Why do you intrude?" the demon asked in an archaic imperial dialect. "This hall is not for you."

  Melissa spoke only to Fanhedon. "This hall is for no one, just a pit beneath the earth." She said nothing out loud, but thrust her spear at the demon’s face.

  "No, no, no," said the demon. "That won't do." He brought both hands together to deflect her spearhead.

  She twisted her grip to change the angle. Melissa's weapon glanced from the demon's forearm, but cut a gash across the grotesque mockery of a human limb. The flesh immediately repaired in a rush of tiny motions. The wound healed over in an instant.

  "As you can see, sleep has give me much power."

  "Sleep?" said Melissa in Fanhedon's voice. "You’ve been at rest?"

  "We promortals sleep beneath the earth, waiting to awaken." The demon hissed with a long tongue. "Not like you, Fanhedon, who fell centuries before your appointed time. I know you. I know."

  Fanhedon responded on her own. "I fell before my time?” she roared. “You cowards dwelt here, while I fought to defend the world from what came upon us."

  "Demons are not heroes," said the spider demon. "We all know that.”

  The demon leapt toward Melissa and his tongue shifted backward, revealing an even longer second tongue with a stinger at it’s tip. The tongue’s point stabbed at Fanhedon shoulder.

  She and Melissa lurched one side, the pain, intense as venom pumped through a break in the armor plate and into the demonic flesh beneath. If Melissa had not been in her sacra from, she’d not survive that wound for long.

  She held the demon at arms length, Fanhedon’s gauntlet wrapped around the monster's throat. She hurled the beast backward through the air, tugging the stinger from her wounded shoulder.

  "Are we all right?" she asked Fanhedon.

  "It's nothing,” answered her demon.

  “Can we beat him?" Melissa asked out loud, voice echoing.

  "I can best any number of these spider monks. Most promortals are not well-versed in battle."

  "That sting hurts," said Melissa. "Do you feel it too?"

  "I do.” Fanhedon’s words echoed internally. "But don't fear, Melissa. We will be triumphant."

  Melissa and Fanhedon raced as one being toward the spider demon. They darted out of the path of a net of sprite-silk, then stabbed the foe’s side with the iron bane-reinforced spear.

  The spider demon squealed in pain and spun, swatting at the spearhead with his human forelimbs. Melissa gritted her mind within Fanhedon’s steely mask.

  Another essence song approached, and Melissa recognized the tune of the leading sprite, dark and low, rippling with chaos, like a cloudy night sky. Catricha Maltos was near the fray. Why did she come back?

  Melissa searched the darkness. The spider demon released a giggling sound, then retreated a few paces. The foe bounded away, racing toward a side passage in the great cavern. There, Catricha stood squinting in the flickering gloom.

  Melissa shouted a warning as she gave chase.

  IN THE DARKNESS BENEATH the city, Catricha emerged from a descending labyrinth of narrow tunnels and stairways into a vast cavern. A din of essences at war assailed her ears across the stony plain. Catricha had never considered how loud a battle between magic-wielders could become.

  She stood, transfixed, looking into the darkness, only making out flickers of movement and flashes of light. Essences’ battle songs filled the cavern, vibrating the stone with their echoes. A piercing cry cut through the chaos.

  “Catricha, get back!” shouted a metallic voice.

  At the same moment, a gaunt face emerged from the clouds of debris and shifting darkness. Catricha recoiled, cold sweat trickling down her spine as spidery limbs followed the howling visage toward her. Before the grasping hands could reach Catricha, a thunderous roar and a flurry of dust cut into the spider demon’s path. The two forms collided in a booming clash of flesh and steel.

  Catricha retreated into the passage, up the path the way she had just come. Her hair flew in front of her face, adding to the confusion and chaos of the near-total darkness around her.

  She fled along the tunnel, darting past a side passage where drifting lights glimmered in the dark. She didn't turn toward them, remembering the way back to the surface. Catricha could tell she was still far from the world of light. She scrambled up more than one flight of stairs, breathing hard.

  The demon beast raced behind her. The spider and the steel demon clashed and tore at each other through the passages, ripping chunks from the walls and shattering columns as they fought to pursue her. They must not be allies, Catricha thought, but in their pursuit of her, they were singular.

 

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