The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(8)
Alarmed, I backed away, but the asha took hold of my arm before I could step out from the daeva’s shadow. “Do not be frightened, and do not move if you wish to survive.”
“You called him a hanjian.” The Daanorian word for traitor.
“There is only one punishment for traitors.” She seated herself beside the savul’s webbed talons, heedless of the growing heat. Already the fires on the daeva’s hide were dying out, leaving no wounds. “We shall wait until the bulk of their arrows are exhausted, their stores of pitch and rocks depleted. It is the only way to save those soldiers’ lives.” She glanced back up at the wall, where the man in bright armor had revealed himself. A strange, terrible eagerness came into her voice. “That man, on the other hand, is a different matter. Shall I continue the tale as we wait, Bard?”
I stared at her in shock, but already she was calmly resuming her story, even as fire and fear were all around us.
3
There is no training adequate to prepare one for fighting daeva, and I speak as one who has faced them all. Of these beasts, the aeshma is easily the most intimidating. Its body is an armorer’s dream, with spikes and talons of everlasting sharpness. It was two dozen feet high but still fast on its feet, scampering from view long before the soldiers’ arrows could find their mark.
I had protested the presence of the king’s army, of Prince Kance coming to watch me. A daeva raising is not a cherry blossom viewing. It is not a kingdom festival that requires royal approval. A daeva is a creature that makes no distinction between noble and common flesh, and even all the armies of the world in attendance—and they were—will not improve anyone’s chances of survival.
“Hold your fire!” I barked at the royal soldiers. “Make no sudden moves, and leave the fighting to Fox!” Brave as they were to stand their ground, the soldiers’ swords and bows were as useless to the fight as silk ribbons and dresses.
The aeshma bellowed, but Fox dodged its attack, his own sword meant to distract rather than deliver a killing blow. Over the course of a year, Fox had had as much experience baiting daeva as I had had in putting them down.
The monster charged, and my brother vaulted over its massive head, the aeshma’s spikes missing him by inches. He landed, then swatted tauntingly at its nose. Even Fox was not above theatrics when there was an audience.
Pain blistered, an ache ripening behind my ears, but I fought through the hurt. I braided the wind around me, and a binding rune shone. The aeshma froze in its tracks as tendrils of my magic covered its form.
“Die,” I growled, and the creature fell, paralyzed. But it was not vanquished yet; it took strength to kill, and my headache was proving a hindrance.
A collective sigh of relief rose from the army. Prince Kance, his eyes unnaturally bright and his movements strangely stilted, stepped closer.
In my head, the shadows shifted. I had another vision of water and wings folded back behind me as I sped quickly through the depths of the sea…
I forced the image out of my head, but in that short, broken moment of concentration, the creature had gathered itself for one last desperate lunge. Kalen was already moving, grabbing Prince Kance by his robes and dragging him back as Fox jumped to shield him. One of the aeshma’s spikes caught my brother squarely in the chest, sliding out through his back.
“Die!” I shouted again, and the spell tore into the aeshma, straight to its heart. The hideous monster fell backward, dragging Fox along on top of it. Its stubby, furred legs kicked out involuntary before it shuddered and went still.
“Fox!” I’d seen him with far worse injuries, but an impaled brother was a vision no sister could grow accustomed to.
From atop the unmoving beast, Fox rose to his feet, still skewered. With a faint grimace, he set his boot against the creature’s ridged hide and ripped himself free with a wet tearing sound.
Around us, people retched. Prince Kance shook, averting his gaze, and Kalen was grim, his glare accusatory.
“I’m fine,” Fox said. “A little heartache never killed anyone.”
“You’re a moron,” I said, breathing easier now that I could see he was OK, and drove my knife deep into the fallen aeshma, ignoring the stench of entrails and blood as I probed deeper until I heard the telltale click of my blade against something stronger than bone.
I plunged my hand in and pulled out the violet-hued bezoar. The aeshma’s corpse immediately crumbled to dust. All that was left of it was the gem that gleamed brightly in my hand. It is odd, I thought, how something so beautiful can come out of something so grotesque.
? ? ?
Back in the palace, Prince Kance trembled. He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know what came over me, Lady Tea. I was foolish enough to think it was safe. I didn’t know how close I was until you shouted.”
“A daeva killing is not something you see every day, Your Highness,” Fox pointed out. “In all the excitement, it’s easy to act impulsively.”
The prince smiled weakly. “I wouldn’t have called getting stabbed by a two-foot spike ‘excitement,’ Fox.”
“If the Dark asha had put the aeshma down completely the first time,” came the frosty rejoinder from the palace window, where Kalen had taken up residence, “then additional ‘excitement’ might have been avoided.”