“All right,” I said. “I know what you are. Kasdeyi Orioc. The Guardian-Slave. You’re from Gahoreth. You don’t belong here. What is it? You want Fallon?” I pointed to my forehead. “The man with the tattoo. Is that your mark?”
Maybe it was thinking. I glanced past it, toward the entrance to the valley and up into the hills. I saw an outcropping of rock in the shadows that reminded me of a cave. Where was the monster under all those skins?
“You’re hiding,” I realized. “Why?” I groped for reasons. “You’re not afraid of the sun. You’re afraid of the light. Malator, could that be it?” I didn’t give him time to answer. “Crezil,” I said, “are you afraid?”
The monster-Crezil-backed away. It wasn’t much, hardly a full step. But I knew now it understood me.
“You want to go home,” I guessed. “Then go. Go back to Gahoreth. I give you leave.” Now it was my turn to step back. I circled Zephyr back a length, then watched for the thing’s reaction. “Go,” I ordered. “We can end our quarrel here.”
For a long moment the demon didn’t move. Then it raised one of its dead hands and marked one of its dead foreheads, just the way it had seen me do. I understood immediately.
“No,” I said. “That man you marked is a bastard and a cheat, but even he doesn’t deserve what you’ve got planned. You leave with one life today-your own.”
Crezil took a step forward. Zephyr bucked.
“No!” I insisted. “You’re done feasting on humans, demon. No more.”
It won’t yield, Lukien, said Malator. It wants Fallon. It won’t leave without him.
“Why?” I yelled to it. “Why Fallon? For waking you? For vengeance? You’ve punished him enough.” I raised my sword just high enough to threaten. “If you make me champion him I will.”
Part of me hoped Crezil would turn and slither away. But another part of me-the very part that drove me here-wanted this fight. Cricket had always been right about me. So had Gilwyn and Malator. I needed to prove myself or die trying. Just then I remembered the pledge I’d made to Gilwyn, to return in time for the birth of his baby. As Crezil rushed toward me, I wasn’t sure I’d keep that promise.
It came like a bull, charging on its three legs, ridiculously fast. I jerked Zephyr away from its five flailing arms. All along its body the mouths opened wide, the hands became claws, the muscles ripened with blood. I had no new weapon, no new strategy to try. All I had different this time was experience, and as I aimed for Crezil I braced myself for the shock.
“Malator!”
The monster charged, my horse twirled, and the Sword of Angels whistled through the air. This time I caught one of the arms, slicing it off. I raced past Crezil, saw the stump of the arm I’d severed, and couldn’t believe I was still on horseback. There was no surge of pain, no burning heat to shock me unconscious. I spun around for another go.
“Malator. . how?”
That wasn’t Crezil, he explained. Just flesh.
I steeled myself. To kill Crezil, I’d have to find it under all that skin. The monster came again, unconcerned by its stump, not even bleeding. It turned one of its heads sideways and lashed a bloated tongue at me.
“Then I’ll cut them all off!” I swore. “And peel it like an orange.”
Crezil readied itself but didn’t charge. Its remaining arms stretched and writhed. The nails of its many hands enlarged, curling out of its fingertips into crusty claws. I had to avoid them, keep my distance I decided. One by one I’d sever them all. A flood of strength filled me as Malator gave me his magic. I cocked the sword, picked a limb, and charged again.
Spittle flew from my horse as I spurred it forward. The monster’s putrid eyes watched me. I steered for its flank, threw my shoulder toward it, and swung my sword. I caught another arm, easily slicing it, thrilling as the appendage twisted skyward. But Crezil moved fast, immune to pain, and with three more arms took hold of Zephyr and pulled him out from under me. I went headlong over my mount, flying out over the grass and crashing to the ground. As I shook my rattled head, I watched Crezil lift my braying Zephyr by his hind legs and fling him over its body, smashing him and killing him against the rocks. His neck snapped, his chest collapsed. The whole big, beautiful creature just popped like a balloon.
“Bitch!” I screamed. I staggered to my feet. “That was a horse! My horse!” Rage gushed out of me. “That was a beautiful animal! Innocent! Oh, Malator. . let me kill this bloody beast!”
I’d tried to talk, but damn it all. . Crezil needed to die, and I wanted to be the one. I forgot about pain and fear and promises. I dove for Crezil like a madman. With my sword held like a dagger I went for its heart, to stab it, to kill it and piss on its corpse. The thing was like a mountain, though, and when I jumped, Crezil didn’t move. I screamed and plunged the sword. It pierced a searching eye, going deep, popping it, spewing on me, but I held on. An arm grabbed me, wrapped me, but I pushed on that sword until I felt the hellish heart of the thing beating.
And then, like before, my insides fried. The most intense burning sizzled up my arms and deep into my bowels. Not like fire, though. I could have plunged my face into a fire and not felt nearly such pain. This was hellfire.
“Malator!”
I screamed like a child. It must have startled Crezil because it let me go, pitching me aside. I rolled through the air and landed on my back, and for a moment couldn’t breathe at all. Everything inside me seized. An inferno seared my brains. I tried to raise myself, then realized the sword was gone. When I lifted my head I saw the blade, still stuck inside Crezil’s oozing eye.
Slowly the pain began to ebb. I mustered myself, getting up on my elbows. Crezil stalked toward me, blocking out the sun. Somehow, it pushed the sword out of its body, letting it clang to the ground beside me. I reached for it, gasping, wrapping my fingers around its solace. Then I looked up at Crezil and smelled its rotting flesh.
I was pinned, but I had the sword, and I took every bit of strength it gave me. “Kill me,” I rasped. “You’ll have to. I’m not giving up. I’ll keep coming after you unless you kill me now.”
I felt the heat rising off its bloody skins. It brought up its arms, making fists of the hands and swelling them like hammers. I closed my eye and waited.
When it hit my leg I shrieked. My leg! I opened my eye, wailing, and saw in amazement Crezil leaving, galloping away through the valley, using all its remaining limbs to propel it through the grass. My leg was shattered. I couldn’t even crawl.
“Whore! Come back here!” I swore, clutching at both the sword and my thigh. “You come back here and finish me!”
Malator was already at work. Stop moving!
The armor around my leg was crushed, and I knew the bone beneath it was, too. The healing magic flooded through me. I closed my eye against the pain.
“It’s gone,” I gasped. “It got away.”
Malator didn’t bother answering me. He had his hands full-again. I laid back in the grass and looked up into the sky. I remembering thinking what a beautiful day it was.
* * *
I guess I passed out, because when I opened my eye again the pain was almost gone. The sword remained within my grip. A stormy looking cloud obscured the sun. I didn’t know how long I’d been there and I didn’t much care. Crezil was gone. Worse, we were both still alive. Malator floated just above my thoughts. I could feel him reading them. I felt his pity.
“Why’d it spare me?” I asked. The cloud above me was so big I wanted to reach up and grab it. If it rained on me, maybe I would drown.
Your leg-it’s almost healed, said Malator. You’ll be all right, Lukien.
“Of course I will. That’s the curse. Why’d it spare me, Malator? Why didn’t it kill me? You know the answer. I can feel it.”