Page 55 of War Mage

Chapter 25

Adara

The interior of the palace is pitch black, with no lumen crystals or even candles to light the way. I am beginning to hate the dark that is so prevalent in Barakrin. I know that vampires thrive in the darkness, just as most sentient species thrive in the light, but as I stumble behind Prince Malik for the fifth time, blind and vulnerable, I decide that I will never take light for granted again.

We reach what I presume is the throne room. As we stop, Prince Malik whispers something to the guards at the doors. Huge double doors, twice as tall as Urim, open up and, finally, blessed firelight spills out, letting me see into the huge throne room. The black walls are covered with tapestries embroidered with Grazrath’s symbol and a fireplace as big as a room is on one wall with a huge bonfire inside of it. Vampires in glittering clothing lounge in seats all along the sides of the room, some feeding from blood slaves while others are drinking from goblets of wine.

But by far the worst sight is in the middle of the room. Torture crosses litter the center of the chamber, innocent people chained to them as they are tortured performatively for the onlookers. It’s like some grotesque festival act, but with blood and pain center stage. The torturers hesitate as we enter, all the heads in the room swivelling to the doors as they open.

“Malik,” a deep, monstrous voice asks, filling the room with its presence. “Is this my mage?”

I try to see who is speaking, but my view of the throne is blocked by a torture cross. His voice gives me chills, however.

“Our Lord of Pain and Misery,” the vampire prince grovels, surprising me with his change of tone and bearing. He has always seemed so strong and confident when we’ve interacted with him, but here, in front of Grazrath, he cowers and whimpers. It must be an act, to make it so that the demon doesn’t see him as a threat. “I have found her, along with this orc blood slave. They are all that was left. The raiders had killed the rest of the stock.”

“I don’t care about the rest of the stock,” Grazrath says as though he is bored. “But you have actually done well, retrieving my property. Bring her to me and put the orc with the others. He can replenish my stable.”

“Of course, Great Demonic King,” Malik simpers. “I live only to serve.”

The vampire prince makes a signal with his hand and Urim is separated from me, brought over into a corner where other blood slaves are huddled, shaking, obviously awaiting their turn to be tortured for amusement. Malik grabs my arm in a firm grip and escorts me through the torture crosses. As we emerge on the other side of them, I finally get my first view of my target.

Grazrath is a big male, with huge batlike wings erupting from his back. His purple skin is covered in a pebbled texture that looks thick and tough. Huge horns protrude from his forehead, reaching up high toward the ceiling, twisted and pointed. His eyes are completely black, absent of whites, and glitter with anticipation as I am brought forward.

“I have waited for this day for far too long,” he remarks in that deep, uncanny voice as I am brought up to his throne. “The day when I will finally be whole once more.”

“Yes, sire,” Malik says, still in that simpering tone of voice. “All of Barakrin rejoices for you on this day.”

“I’m sure,” drawls the demon drily. His huge taloned hand reaches out, each finger tipped with a huge sharp, black claw. He grabs my arm and yanks me forward painfully. I cry out involuntarily at his rough handling.

The demon just chuckles at my sound of pain. “Oh, beauty, you have not even begun to scream for me. But don’t worry, I still have a use for you yet.”

Grazrath stands up from his throne, pulling me roughly forward with him. “My sons and daughters!” he proclaims loudly to the room. “My most zealous followers! You bear witness today to something extraordinary! The day that I am fully reborn into this world, gaining access to all my demonic powers to become the god of this world! With this warmblood’s magic, I will personally crush the armies of Adrik and Orik and let blood run through the streets. I will make us rulers among all sentients!”

The vampire courtiers begin cheering and clapping, each trying to outdo the others in their shows of enthusiasm. But I can’t let myself be distracted by the cacophony. It’s my time, the time to use my soulfire. From my position up on the dias, I can see Urim in the corner, his gaze intent upon me. I reach for the bond and feel his steadiness and confidence in me streaming back at me from my orc. He believes I can do this, so I must. I must do it now.

Grazrath continues his speech, speaking of the rewards he will give his followers when they take the rest of Anar’i, but I close my eyes and tune him out. I reach deep within, feeling my mana respond to my call, but I go deeper, far below. It’s a struggle. There are metaphysical barriers that I placed there myself, as a way to avoid burning out and accidentally using my core soul. But now I must ignore those safeguards and my instincts to risk burnout.

Finally, I reach my core soul, the source of all magic and flame. It is peaceful here. I feel myself, who I am under all else. I am surprised to feel Urim here as well. The bond burns bright here, the soultie shining and strong. I feel his calm, but here, in my core soul, I can feel beyond that, to his core soul as well. I feel his worry and fear, his love of duty, and his love for me. It is true and pure and it strengthens me more than anything else. In that moment it all becomes clear; I will survive the soulfire, not because I made a soultie with a random orc, but because he loves me. His soul will twine with mine and together we will make the flame that will bring down an archdemon.

I pluck a piece of my soul out, small as a candle flame, and feel Urim’s soul crowd in to make up for the loss. I get the feeling that I have just shaved five years off of both of our lives and I deem it an acceptable sacrifice for our mission.

“ . . . now, I will feast!” Grazrath is saying, bringing his speech to a close. The room is roused to a fever pitch of shouting and cheering. “Watch, as I become a god!”

He yanks me toward him, his mouth coming toward my neck, eagerness in his black eyes. But I pull that piece of my soul to the surface.

“Not now, not ever,” I whisper, and then power explodes out of me. Grazrath rears back, but he is too late. With blinding light, a missile of white flame sprays out of my palm and the demon shrieks in pain as it collides with him, hitting him squarely in the chest.

“Soulfire?” he bellows, perhaps a touch of fear in his voice. “Noo!”

The blinding light fades and with it reveals Grazrath is changed. His chest and half his face now are covered in smooth light tan skin.Humanskin. Mortal, vulnerable skin.

“What have you done?” snarls the demon, backhanding me down the stairs. “This ruins everything!Everything!”

I fall down the stairs to the throne, landing heavily and hitting my head hard. My vision swims and my mind feels jumbled. Then I see Grazrath flying down the steps toward me.

“I’ll just drink your blood after you’re dead,” the demon intones. “There should still be enough magic in it to fix this mess.”

He reaches for me, but at that moment an arrow flies and hits him in the shoulder, embedding itself into his newly vulnerable skin. Grazrath grunts with pain and rips out the arrow, red blood pouring from the wound.

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