Chapter 25
Melelea
The dagger, I think desperately as we climb higher. I need to get to the dagger. I must be dead by the time the imp delivers me.
Struggling against the imp’s grip, I try to move my arms so that I can reach the weapon in my belt.
I remember Wodred’s instructions. Through my throat or into the join of my thigh.
But the imp’s talons have my arms pinned as it carries me.
I can barely maneuver my hand onto the pommel of the dagger, but can’t unsheathe it.
I struggle more, not caring if the imp drops me.
Death by dagger or by a fall, it doesn't matter. I must keep my mana out of Grazrath’s hands.
But the imp is strong; much stronger than I am.
I barely move in its grip, and it seems to ignore my impotent wriggling.
It climbs higher in the sky, over the mountain, then dives down, taking me toward a cave I have only seen in my visions.
Wyrmin’s last resting place, the den where the demon hides.
It was closer to the mine’s exit than I thought.
As we fly into the mouth of the cave, the imp unceremoniously drops me in front of the pile of dragon bones.
The fall is jarring, my knees and wrists screaming in protest as I instinctively try to steady myself.
As I recover, I scrabble at my belt, drawing the dagger and go to ram it into the side of my neck, but a cruel grip grabs my wrist, stopping it fast.
“Tsk,” Grazrath says in his unnatural deep voice, “that will not do. Though I enjoy blood as much as the next demon, I have plans for yours.”
The archdemon squeezes my wrist, and the bones crunch and crack. I cry out in pain and involuntarily open my hand, dropping Wodred’s dagger.
“That’s better,” the demon says. He picks up the blade, still holding my wrist in his crushing grip, and looks at the blade curiously.
Then, with a cruel, deliberate smile, he tosses the blade out of the entrance and over the drop at the mouth of the cave.
Hopelessness crashes over me as I watch it fall out of sight, my last chance to stop Grazrath.
“You led me on a merry chase,” Grazrath comments carelessly. “When we dug out the snow, imagine my dismay when I saw that you had collapsed the tunnel behind you. Was that your idea or your orc’s?”
“Please,” I rasp out, pain still radiating from my wrist. “You don’t have to do this.”
The demon booms out a laugh, mocking and cruel. “Are you truly trying to appeal to my sense of decency? Mercy? I am the Archdemon of Pain and Misery! I thrive off suffering. When the world burns beneath my feet, I will glut myself on the pain of the mortals that fall before my onslaught.”
“But if you kill all the mortals, all of Anar’i, destroy everything, who will worship you?” I ask. “Who will offer you their pain and the pain of their victims? You will starve!”
This seems to actually take the demon aback for a moment, but then he dismisses me with a derisive shake of his head.
“By the time Anar’i burns and the mortals are dead, I will have taken Ethereal.
I will sit on the throne as King of the Gods and mold what is left of this world in my image.
I will not need suffering then. And if I do?
I’ll create new mortals to torture. I have created creatures before; I’ll do it again. ”
“Creatures that betrayed you,” I goad, thinking of the vampires that deposed him. It is reckless to mock him, but I’m desperate. Perhaps I can get him to kill me by accident in his rage.
My bid to anger him works. His eyes narrow, but he only increases his hold on my wrist. I whimper, unable to help the sound of pain.
The bones are likely pulverized. “If my creations betray me, I’ll destroy them again and again.
I’ll be a god! A mere mortal trolless like yourself will never understand the weight and power that comes from being an immortal creature of magic. ”
Then he smiles, an evil expression. “But I have wasted enough time searching for you, and you will not distract me. Time to surrender your mana, little seer. I promise I will do great and terrible things with it . . . starting with destroying Ilustan.”
The demon drops my wrist, but moves too quickly for me to try to run. He hauls me up and whips me around, my back to his front. Fear for my family courses through me, and I struggle against his strength, but that only makes Grazrath laugh again.
“I do love when they resist,” he remarks. Then he rips off my cloak and pulls my head to the side, baring my neck and shoulder. With a hungry inhale, he travels his nose up my neck.
“I love the smell of magic,” he says. “And yours smells better than most, little seer. Thank you for delivering yourself to me.”
Without further preamble, Grazrath bites down, right over the scar on my shoulder.
Like he knew that was the most painful and humiliating spot he could feed from.
Memories of Guruk biting me flood over me, mingling with the pain of the demon’s teeth in my shoulder.
I can feel him drawing the blood out of my body, with long, deep pulls.
I scream and try to rip away from him. I claw at his hands, but it is no use.
My meager strength is nothing compared to a demon.
I’m going to die and lead to the deaths of untold others.
My voice begins to fade as the blood leaves me, my limbs feeling heavy and lethargic.
My life begins to play out in my mind, as so many people have told me happens when you face death.
But, strangely, I only see the good parts.
My son being born. Serving Adalind and watching her grow into a strong young woman.
Rognar and Adalind’s wedding. I almost think I can see a glimpse of the future, of my grandchild being born.
A son, strong like his father, cunning like his mother.
And Wodred. I see Wodred. Strong, dependable Wodred, who has loved me all this time.
If I have one regret, it is that I will not be able to see what we could have been.
That I was too scared to tell him how I feel.
My eyes droop, and my body is cold. As my eyes close, I can still hear the slurping, gluttonous sound of Grazrath feeding from me, taking the magic in my blood.
Then, suddenly, there is a wet thump to my left.
The demon roars, rearing back and dropping me.
My heavy eyes open to see Grazrath standing above me, a javelin through his shoulder, not far from his heart.
With breathless hope, my eyes go to the front of the cave.
There, standing with the full moon rising behind him, is Wodred, fury and vengeance in his eyes.
He came for me. But he was too late.
My eyes close, and everything goes dark.