Hemlock And The Dread Sorceress (Book 3) (7 page)

Hemlock noticed Boris was creeping toward Tored and the Old Mother.

“Stop there, Boris!” she yelled.

The demon floated motionlessly, and seemed to be listening to the
recent conversation with an attentiveness that further alarmed Hemlock.  It was clearly intelligent.  Safreon had always looked for the dumb ones.  He’d said the intelligent ones were far too dangerous.

Hemlock examined the dark energy she’d detected around the Old Mother before they’d descended into the basement.  She now understood what it was.  It was like a series of dark chains between her and the demon, as if she had somehow tethered herself to it magically.

“What have you done here, you crazy old crone?”

The Old Mother drew up proudly
, and her eyes burned with indignation. “I’ve stepped in and helped where your beloved wizards abandoned!  I’ve kept the fabric of this community intact!  And I’ve had no help from the likes of you!”

“Let me get this straight
. You summoned this thing to help people?  Do you understand what will happen if this thing gets loose?”

“There
is an agreement between it and me.  It doesn’t resist the binding spells I use to generate magic and power my own potions.  In return, I don’t banish it back to its home plane.  Apparently, it’s not very pleasant there, so it’s happy to stay right here.”

Hemlock further examined the magical energies between the demon and the Old Mother.  She was skeptical that the demon could be banished by the spells the Old Mother had in place.  And the soul
binding spells between the two were so strong that Hemlock felt sure the demon could possess her at will.

“But it
’s growing stronger, isn’t it?   What is the end game here?  How will you control it once it gets too powerful—if it hasn’t already?” said Hemlock.

The Old Mother looked at the unconscious form of the young thief lying sha
ckled to the floor.  “I now offer it sacrifices to appease it—riff raff that will never be missed.  If anything, it’s helping make the neighborhood safer!”

“That’s why you were trying to avoid detection!  So you’re judge, jury and executioner, now?  Don’t you understand how crazy this is?  You are totally out of control, here!”

The old woman didn’t answer. 

Hemlock
looked at the demon again, and it regarded her in return.  “Be careful what you do,” it said in a deep voice that suggested the bubbling sound of roiling, molten lava.

“Go back to your plane.  Whatever agreement you’ve made with this woman is at an end,” growled Hemlock.

“Hemlock, let’s get Gwineval.  This foe may be beyond us,” said Tored.

“No time,” hissed Hemlock.

“I won’t go back,” growled the demon.

“Were you planning to possess her?” asked Hemlock.

“No.  Just making sure she didn’t send me back.”

“I can see your magic.  You could take her if you wanted to.”

“Nonsense!” shouted the Old Mother.

“Be quiet!  I’m negotiating for your life
,” chided Hemlock.

“You
see magic?  Tell me how this looks!” taunted the demon.  It extended its arms and a burst of magic flame erupted around it.  The flames were contained by the web of spells that surrounded the demon, but more than a few layers of magic were consumed in the process.

“Another burst like that
, and I’ll take you down!” said Hemlock.

“I’ll kill the old woman,” said the demon.

“Wait!  No!” cried the Old Mother.  Boris bolted for the door, but Tored was quicker than the large man anticipated and more powerful than he expected.  Tored landed a well-placed blow with a closed fist, and the large man buckled to the floor, gasping.

“Let him go, Tored,” said Hemlock.

“Yes, Tored.  Let him go,” said the Old Mother.  “Let me go as well.  Don’t think I’ve forgotten your face.  You sought out my help once, and now I demand a chance to live!”

Hemlock looked back and forth between Tored, the Old Mother and the demon.

The demon chuckled softly.

“We don’t have time for this
.  Old Mother, use your soul bond to draw strength from the demon.  We have to slay it!” said Hemlock.

“No!” cried the Old Mother
, but Hemlock was already leaping toward the demon.  She vaulted upwards and kicked with both of her legs as her sabres bit into and tore the deep red flesh near its neck.  Her kick propelled her backwards as the demon unleashed another volley of fire.  This time, the fire burst through the spells woven by the Old Mother and traveled along the soul binding link between her and the demon.  The crone cried out for a moment before her body crumpled and burst into flame.

“Damn
!” muttered Hemlock. 

The demon was loose and charging at Hemlock.  Tored interrupted its advance with a spear thrust that tore into its muscular shoulder, splattering
the warrior with dark, scalding blood.  Tored screamed as his clothes burned off, failing to protect the vulnerable flesh beneath.  But the aged warrior held his ground as the demon turned to face him.

Hemlock circled behind the beast and hamstrung it with two heavy blows to its leg.  The demon howled in pain and stumbled toward Tored.  Tored wounded
its side with another strike from his spear, but had to give way in the face of the sheer bulk of the creature.

The demon reached the wa
ll and lifted one of the makeshift bookcases, sending books tumbling to the floor.  With a roar that shook the chamber, it threw the twenty foot span of heavy timber at Tored.   Tored turned aside in a running jump but the rack was too large for him to avoid.  Part of the wooden rack struck him in the back and head as it hit the floor and shattered, covering the warrior.

Hemlock was horrified by the fate of her friend as t
he demon moved to the next rack and threw it at her.  She darted to the side in time to avoid the heavy wood and flying books. Leaping over the remnants of the last ruined rack, she hoped against hope to see movement that would indicate Tored still lived.

T
he demon rotated to the next rack and hurled it violently.  Hemlock was able to leap over the pit and get to the rear wall as the demon continued to hurl bookshelves at her.  The floor became treacherously littered with broken timber.

She ran to the shelter of a still-standing shelf as the demon hurled another one toward her previous
location.  She charged the demon, but a leap onto a broken timber went awry when the impact of another rack moved her intended landing point.  She was forced to tumble awkwardly to the ground, hitting her head on another plank that fell unexpectedly in her path.  Bloodied and feeling slightly woozy, she crouched as the crashing of wood betrayed the charge of the demon.

She heard a
man groan from under the pile of debris as the demon approached her.

Tored lives!

The demon was on her in the next instant, filling the air with fragments of exploding wood as it flailed with a terrible rage.

Tored’s peril triggered a part of her that she now feared.  A savage feeling of bloodlust consumed her
and she no longer had any doubt or hesitation. All her thoughts were directed toward inflicting pain on her enemy.

The demon continued to charge her in a rage, but time slowed down for Hemlock as a supernatural strength infuse
d her.  There was the beast towering over her, mere steps from rending her limb from limb, but she was eerily calm.  She effortlessly lifted an eight foot board that was six inches square and had been broken at the end, leaving a cruelly sharpened extremity.  In less than a second, she had placed the board to accept the charge of the unwitting demon.

The beast’s momentum was so great that it impaled itself through
the abdomen and fell heavily to the floor in an explosion of bloody gore.  Hemlock calmly leapt to the side, but the burning red ochre covered her.  The viscous fluid got in her eyes and clouded her vision.  In that darkness, a familiar vision seemed to surface.  It was a great, black, leathery wing stretching into flight.  Hemlock used her cloak to wipe the burning liquid from her eyes and then the rest of her. Mercifully, the vision faded quickly and her normal sight returned.  She had managed to clear the vile blood from her eyes before it did serious damage.

“All debts come due eventually,” said a voice in her head.  She thought it
was Safreon’s voice.  She struck her head in an attempt to reset her bearings as she took stock of the situation.  The demon was still struggling, though it appeared to be mortally wounded, and its midsection was slowly melting into crimson goo.

Suddenly
, she felt a force impact her, but it wasn’t a physical force.  She had a sudden, sharp headache.  Her head pounded, and the demon’s voice whispered to her from inside her mind.

Yes, you’ll do fine.

She began to swoon, and a strange tingling sensation started in her fingertips.

“Oh no you don’t!” she cried, regaining her footing.

With an act of sheer will, she thought of her mental communications with the griffin and compared it to what she now felt.  She was able to perceive the magical channel through which the demon was reaching out to her, and she directed her will along that channel, lashing out with something like a mental shout.

She felt the force leave her mind as the demon howled with rage and tried, unsuccessfully, to rise.

“Tored!” she shouted over the crackle of flames from wood that burned all around her.

“Here!” he shouted, sounding stronger
than she’d expected.

She was by his side in an instant.

“The boards—too heavy!” He coughed as smoke started to fill the room.  Her burst of strength had not wholly passed and she tossed the pile of thick planks aside with some effort.

“Can you walk?” she
asked.

“My leg is broken, but I think I can manage
.” He cried out in agony as he tried to rise.

She helped him up as the room became an inferno.  Miraculously, the path to the stair
s was clear.

“Hemlock!” cried a familiar, youthful voice from behind.

She turned, still supporting Tored.  There, under several planks and still chained to the floor was Jasper, the thief.  “Help me!” he cried.

But Hemlock sensed that a change had come over Jasper.  His aura was decidedly different
, more powerful and more sinister.

“Can we save him?” shouted Tored over the din of the fire.

“No.  And it’s just as well,” said Hemlock.

“Hemlock!” cried Jasper.  “Something’s happened to me.  There’s a voice in my head.  It says to tell you that I’m still me even though it’s in me now.  Hemlock, I don’t want to burn alive.  Please!  I want to see my
mum again.  Hemlock!”

Hemlock set Tored against the standing remnants of a bookshelf.

“I’m sorry, Jasper,” she shouted.  Kneeling, she picked up Tored’s spear and cast it at the adolescent.  Her aim was true and it struck him between the chest and the shoulder blade, killing him instantly. 

There was a great howl,
then.  As Hemlock helped Tored up the stairs, she saw a deep red cloud of energy leave Jasper’s body. Drawn into the pit, the red light—somehow visible despite the fire—drew in upon itself and receded with a pop.

“He died like a warrior—struck from above and over the shoulder.  It was an honorable blow,” grunted Tored as they climbed away from the conflagration below.

“He was just a stupid kid,” said Hemlock.

“Fate is often unkind, but you eased his passing.”

“Thanks.”

They were met on the street by a fire b
rigade and a detachment of the watch.  Hemlock explained what happened as Tored was placed on a litter, against his will, and returned to their apartment where Mercuria’s healing powers awaited.

There was no sign of Boris at the scene
. Hemlock did not subsequently seek him out, suspecting that he was, more likely than not, an unwitting pawn in the misguided schemes of the Old Mother.

All debts come due eventually.

The phrase echoed in her mind as she considered the motives of the Old Mother and the recurring dark vision of a dragon that she continued to experience.

A deputy wanted her to report the incident to the Senate but
Hemlock refused.  Her recent authority, and the force of her spirit, prevented the deputy from daring an attempt to detain her.  But she did give a full accounting of the tale, twice, and with many witnesses present.

Gwineval will blame me for this, no doubt.  The sooner we leave the City
, the better.

When she arrived at their apartment, Mercuria had already treated Tor
ed, and he was resting quietly.  She entered his room and pulled up a chair before he could offer any resistance.

“Hemlock, he should rest,” cautioned Mercuria, looking weary from the process of healing.

“So should you.  Leave us,” said Hemlock.