Page 85 of Vow of the Shadow King

I will save Mythanar.

I will save Hael, my brave defender.

I will save the refugee children playing among the priestesses’ huts.

I will save Trill and the market vendors. The minstrels, the dancers.

I will save these people. I will save their city.

For you, Vor.

For you.

I summon all my strength, more than I knew I possessed. All the feeling in my heart, built up over so many years of hiding and protecting myself. It all had to go somewhere. I pull it forth now, let it roil to the surface, mounting pressure, like a dam ready to burst. My body shakes. The song of the crystals booms in my head, pulses through my veins.

Then I send it out—all that rolling reverberation. I pour myself in a long stream of life and soul, down to the last drop. The threads I have gathered vibrate and sing as my gods-gift flows along them and touches the minds of each and every mad beast.

My body spasms. The tall crystals above me flicker, go dim for a moment. Then they flare brighter than ever, a blaze of clear blue light, like a star fallen into this world under stone. Their light, their song burns me from the inside out. But I don’t stop. Not even when a ragged cry tears from my throat. Not even when I feel my soul being slowly ripped in half.

The whole of Mythanar cavern fills with light, brighter and brighter. The stones sing out their triumphant song, and every crystal answers back, from the largest, most complex formations to the tiniest granules of grit. Their voices fill the world, down to the fiery river below the chasm, up to the highest stalactites of the cavern ceiling. All the shadows, all the darkness of the Under Realm, are put to flight.

The last of my strength flows out from me. I have so little left. Just enough to cling to strands of life. Did I give enough? I cannot know. What if what I gave was onlyalmostwhat was needed? What if, by holding on to life, I doom them all?

I can’t hold on. I must give it all.

Vor’s face appears in my mind, behind my tightly-squeezed eyelids. I wish I’d had a chance to tell him the truth. To tell him I love him. To tell him that nothing else that had happened between us matters. Only my love. The love I chose. The love I will go on choosing. Forever.

I draw a deep breath into my lungs.

Then, with a final, shattering scream, I give the last of my strength over to the song. A burst of light explodes within my head and then . . .

. . .oblivion.

37

VOR

Hot breath blasts in my face. Savage roaring tears at my ears.

I lie on my back, my arm shoved deep into the cave devil’s mouth as its teeth slowly break through my armor. Ribbons of saliva fall in my eyes, burn my flesh. Muscles straining, I put everything I have into forcing that awful maw back. It’s too strong, too mad. My strength falters, will soon give out.

Suddenly, all the pressure in my arm vanishes.

The beast falls away from me, staggers like it’s drunk. It lifts its head, nostrils flaring. Goes still.

I roll. Blood pumping, heart throbbing. Every instinct in my body drives me to action, to escape the devil’s clutches. Pushing myself up, I scramble to my feet, back away. My eyes fix on that creature which had, mere moments ago, threatened to rip my face from my skull. It stands perfectly still, its head lifted, its eyeless face fixed in the direction of the palace.

Slowly, I turn, gaze around at the rest of the torn-apart street. There are other devils within view. Many of them. Some poised above victims, both dead and still struggling with life. Every single one of thewogghastands in the same fixed attitude. All the savagery seems to have drained out from them. They’re like sentinels, on alert, focused on some distant point.

A snarl rasps from my throat. I find my sword, brandish it high, and drive it into the back of the nearest devil’s skull. It drops like a stone. I go on to the next and the next, killing as many of them as I can while this strange stasis holds them at bay. Somewhere, another street over, I hear voices. One of them might be Lur, barking commands, but it feels far away. I’m alone here, alone in this world of horror and bloodshed.

Grimly, I progress from beast to beast, until I’ve slaughtered eight in quick succession. As I approach the ninth, however, its grey skin ripples unnaturally. Then it throws back its head and utters a prolonged, agonized howl. My blood chills. I leap back a step, terror spiking, and brace, prepared for the next attack.

But the beast swallows its voice at last, shakes its head. Then, to my utmost surprise, it turns, flees past me. Galloping on its ungainly limbs, it speeds back down the street. More devils appear moments later, and more and more. That same stream of murderous savagery which had flowed into my city now retreats. Low, slinking, moving like shadows, they flee in total silence.

Footsteps pound on pavement. I turn to see Lur, bleeding badly from a wound in her neck. She catches my gaze, relieved to find me alive. “My King!” she cries. Her voice rings strangely. “My King, what has happened? What are they doing?”

I cannot answer. I do not know. It’s as though the compulsion which had driven them to swarm has suddenly fled their bodies. Not unlike . . . not unlike when . . .

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