The Core

‘No doubt it has already begun.’ He made the puppet wave its spear, and predictably the eyes of the humans followed. ‘You doom your own kind, keeping me here.’

Delicately, the Consort shifted its chains, probing for a weakness. The wards etched into the metal burned, pulling at his magic, but the Consort kept a tight grip on his power. Already he had shattered one of the locks and freed a limb. If he could break another, the puppet might disable the circles enough for the Consort to escape.

‘How many minds are left in the hive?’ the Explorer demanded. ‘We killed seven so far, not counting you. Reckon that ent nothing.’

‘In the hive?’ the Consort asked. ‘None, by now. No doubt they have already divided the breeding grounds and seek to pacify their new territories before the laying.’

‘Breeding grounds?’ the Hunter asked.

The puppet smiled. ‘The people of your Free Cities will soon find their walls and wards less secure than they have been led to believe.’

‘Bold words, Alagai Ka,’ the Heir said, ‘as you lie bound before us.’

The Consort found what he sought, at last. The tiny flaw in one of the locks, eroded slowly over the months of his imprisonment. Breaking it would allow the demon to slip the chain, but the power required would be bright, and his captors might notice before it was done.

‘You were allowed your breeding grounds against this time.’ The puppet took a step to the side, and their eyes went with it. ‘Hunting preserves for my brethren. They will take their drones and crack your walls like eggs, stocking their larders to satiate their hatchling queens.’

‘And doom for Ala grow in their wombs,’ the Heir said. ‘We must not allow this.’

‘Free me,’ the Consort said.

‘Not a chance,’ the Explorer growled.

‘It is your only real choice,’ the Consort said. ‘My return can still prevent swarm.’

‘You are the Prince of Lies,’ the Heir said. ‘We are not fools enough to trust your words. There is another choice. We will go to the abyss and kill Alagai’ting Ka once and for all.’

‘You claim not to be fools,’ the Consort said, ‘yet you believe you can survive the path to the hive? You will not even get as far as Kavri before he broke and fled back to the surface.’

The words had the intended effect as the Heir stiffened, tightening his grip on the spear. ‘More lies. Kaji defeated you.’

‘Kavri killed many drones,’ the Consort said. ‘Many princes. It took centuries to repopulate the hive, but his attempts to breach our domain failed. That is the best your kind can hope for. This is not the first cycle, nor shall it be the last.’

‘Said you’d guide us to the Core,’ the Explorer said.

‘You might as well ask to go to the surface of the day star,’ the Consort said. ‘You would be consumed long before you reached it. You know this.’

‘To the hive, then,’ the Explorer said. ‘The mind court. The ripping whelping room of the demon queen.’

‘That will destroy you, as well.’ The Consort edged the puppet another step.

‘Take our chances,’ the Hunter said.

At last, they were in position. The puppet raised its spear and threw it at the Explorer’s heart. As expected, he dissipated and it passed harmlessly through, flying straight at the Heir, who spun his weapon to bat it aside.

The puppet flung the shield with all its strength, the hard edge shattering one of the wardstones keeping the Consort imprisoned. The Hunter was moving fast to attack, but the female drone gave a cry, blocking the Hunter’s path to her sire.

It was time enough for the puppet to turn, taking the warded chain in hand as the Consort focused a burst of magic to shatter the weakened link. Like a spider picking apart a damaged web, the puppet unwove the chain. The silver wards burned the Consort’s skin, but the pain was a small price to pay for freedom.

He flicked a claw, using a burst of magic to fling a tiny piece of the shattered metal link through the air, striking the Heir’s crown and knocking it from his head, preventing him from raising the shield that had first trapped the Consort.

The Hunter cast the female drone aside, leaping to try to stop the puppet, but it was too late. The Consort dissipated even as she swung her weapons, leaving solid only a single claw to lay open her bowels as they passed. He slipped through the gap the puppet had made in the circle, rematerializing at the edge of the outer warding.

The Explorer rushed to his mate as she gasped, trying desperately to keep her intestines from spilling onto the floor. The Hunter did not have the focus to dissipate and heal herself, and the Explorer would waste valuable time and power healing her.

The Consort drew an impact ward in the air, and the stones at the Heir’s feet exploded, sending him stumbling as he scrambled for his crown. The puppet kicked the crown across the room, then attacked to stall the Heir just a few seconds more.

Turning, the Consort raised the stub of his tail, sending a spray of magic-dead faeces to disable the wards.

He was about to dissipate again when the Heir cried, ‘Enough!’ He slammed the butt of his spear to the floor, and a wave of magic knocked everyone from their feet. The Consort recovered quickly, dematerializing and moving for the gap in the wards, but not before the Explorer threw magic of his own, pulling back a curtain to cast dawn twilight over the gap in the wards. The day star had not yet crested the horizon, but already the light burned at his magic – unspeakable agony. The demon dare not approach.

The Hunter dissipated, re-forming with her wounds healed. She and the Explorer drew wardings in the air with practised hands, sending shocks of pain through the demon’s cloud even as he fled the light. In his non-corporeal form, the Consort could not control the puppet, and the female drone quickly put him in a submission hold. The Heir recovered his crown, raising the shield, trapping the Consort once more.

There was no choice but to surrender and negotiate. They still needed him alive. The Consort solidified, claws retracted and teeth covered, arms held high in the human sign of submission.

The Hunter struck him hard in the side of his head, impact wards rattling his skull. She was impulsive. The others would be more restrained.

But as the Consort rolled with the blow, the Explorer struck him from the opposite side, cracking his skull and bursting an eye from its socket.

The demon stumbled, only to take a third blow from the shaft of the Heir’s spear, striking harder than a rock drone.

The beating continued, and the Consort thought surely they would kill him in their primitive savagery. He attempted to dissipate, but like the Hunter moments before, he found it impossible to focus enough to trigger the transformation.

Then it became hard to focus on who delivered which blow, and there was only the sound and shock as each fell.

And then it became hard to focus at all. Blackness filled his vision.

The Consort woke in agony. He attempted to Draw power from his inner reserve to heal, but there was little remaining. Unconscious, he must have Drawn deeply to recover from the worst of his injuries. The rest would have to heal naturally.

He remained free of the cursed chain. Perhaps they were rushing to repair it, even now. Perhaps they expected him to remain disabled for longer.

If so, they were greater fools than even he had believed. The curtain had been drawn, and the Consort could sense the darkness beyond the thick cloth. Escape again felt within reach. He raised a claw, siphoning a bit of his remaining magic to power a ward he drew in the air.

But the power dissipated before it reached the tip of his talon, and a shock of pain ran through his body, causing him to hiss.

Again he Drew, and again the power failed, even as his flesh burned.

The Consort looked down at his skin, realization dawning even as he saw the glow of the wards.

They had inked his flesh with needles, much as the Explorer had done to himself. He was covered with wards.

Mind wards, keyed to his own caste. The symbols put him in a prison of his own flesh, preventing him from dissipating or reaching out with his mind. Worse, if the Consort – or one of his captors – fed the wards with enough magic, they would kill him.

It was worse by far than the chain. An indignity beyond anything the Consort could imagine.

But every problem had its solution. Every warding its weakness. He would bide his time, and find it.

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