The Demon Cycle Series Books 1 and 2: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear. Peter V. Brett
streets were empty, doors and shutters locked tight, but Arlen could see cracks of light around them, and knew the people of Miln were awake, biting nails and praying their wards would hold. He heard weeping, and thought of how dependent the Milnese were upon their wall.
They arrived at a scene of utter chaos. Guardsmen and Warders lay dead and dying on the cobbled streets, spears broken and burning. Three bloodied men-at-arms wrestled with a wind demon, attempting to pin it long enough for a pair of Warder’s apprentices to trap it in a portable circle. Others ran to and fro with buckets of water, trying to smother the many small fires as flame demons scampered about in glee, setting alight everything in reach.
Arlen looked at the breach, amazed that a coreling could dig through twenty feet of solid rock. Demons jammed the hole, clawing at each other to be next to pass into the city.
A wind demon squeezed through, getting a running start as it spread its wings. A guard hurled his spear at it, but the missile fell short, and the demon flew into the city unchallenged. A moment later, a flame demon leapt upon the now-unarmed guard and tore his throat out.
‘Quickly, boy!’ Cob shouted. ‘The guards are buying us time, but they won’t last long against a breach this size. We need to seal it fast!’ He sprang from the cart with surprising agility and snatched two portable circles from the back, handing one to Arlen.
With Ragen riding protectively beside them, they sprinted towards the keyward flag of the Warder’s guild, marking the protective circle where the Warders had set up their base. Unarmed Herb Gatherers were tending rows of wounded there, fearlessly darting out of the circle to assist men stumbling towards the sanctuary. They were a scant few to tend so many.
Mother Jone, the Duke’s advisor, and Master Vincin, the head of the Warder’s guild, greeted them. ‘Master Cob, good to have you …’ Jone began.
‘Where are we needed?’ Cob asked Vincin, ignoring Jone completely.
‘The main breach,’ Vincin said. ‘Take the posts for fifteen and thirty degrees,’ he said, pointing towards a stack of wardposts. ‘And by the Creator, be careful! There’s a devil of a rock demon there – the one that made the breach in the first place. They have it trapped from heading further into the city, but you’ll have to cross the wards to get into position. It’s killed three Warders already, and Creator only knows how many guards.’
Cob nodded, and he and Arlen headed over to the pile. ‘Who was on duty at dusk tonight?’ he asked as they took their load.
‘Warder Macks and his apprentices,’ Jone replied. ‘The Duke will hang them for this.’
‘Then the Duke is a fool,’ Vincin said. ‘There’s no telling what happened out there, and Miln needs every Warder it has and more.’ He blew out a long breath. ‘There will be few enough left after tonight, as it is.’
‘Set up your circle first,’ Cob said for the third time. ‘When you’re safe within, set the post in its stand and wait for the magnesium. It’ll be bright as day, so shield your eyes until it comes. Then centre yours to the dial on the main post. Don’t try to link with the other posts. Trust their Warders to get it right. When it’s done, drive stakes between the cobbles to hold it in place.’
‘And then?’ Arlen asked.
‘Stay in the corespawned circle until you’re told to come out,’ Cob barked, ‘no matter what you see, even if you’re in there all night! Is that clear?’
Arlen nodded.
‘Good,’ Cob said. He scanned the chaos, waiting, waiting, then shouted ‘Now!’ and they were off, dodging around fires, bodies, and rubble, heading for their positions. In seconds, they cleared a row of buildings and saw the one-armed rock demon towering over a squad of guardsmen and a dozen corpses. Its talons and jaws glistened with blood in the lamplight.
Arlen’s blood went cold. He stopped short and looked to Ragen, and the Messenger met his eye for a moment. ‘Must be after Keerin,’ Ragen said wryly.
Arlen opened his mouth, but before he could reply, Ragen screamed ‘Look out!’ and swiped his spear Arlen’s way.
Arlen fell and dropped his post, banging his knee badly on the cobblestones. He heard the crack! as the butt of Ragen’s spear took a diving wind demon in the face, and rolled over in time to see the coreling carom off the Messenger’s shield and crash to the ground.
Ragen trampled the creature with his warhorse as he kicked into a gallop, grabbing Arlen just as he picked up his post and half-dragging, half-carrying him over to his position. Cob had already set up his portable circle and was preparing the stand for his wardpost.
Arlen wasted no time setting up his own circle, but his eyes kept flicking back to One Arm. The demon was clawing at the hastily placed wards before it, trying to power through. Arlen could see weaknesses in the net each time it flared, and knew it would not hold forever.
The rock demon sniffed and looked up suddenly, meeting Arlen’s eyes, and the two matched wills for a moment, until it became too much to bear and Arlen dropped his gaze. One Arm shrieked and redoubled its efforts to break through the weakening wards.
‘Arlen, stop staring and do your ripping job!’ Cob screamed, snapping Arlen out of his daze. Trying his best to block out the shrieks of the coreling and the shouting of guardsmen, he set up the collapsible iron stand and placed his wardpost within. He angled it as best he could in the dim flickering light, then placed a hand over his eyes to wait for the magnesium.
The flare went off a moment later, turning night into day. The Warders angled their posts quickly and staked them in place. They waved with white cloths to signal completion.
His work done, Arlen scanned the rest of the area. Several Warders and apprentices were still struggling to set their posts. One post was alight with demonfire. Corelings were screaming and recoiling from the magnesium, terrified that somehow the hated sun had come. Guardsmen surged forward with spears, attempting to drive them back past the wardposts before they activated. Ragen did the same, galloping about upon his destrier, his polished shield reflecting the light and sending corelings scrambling away in fear.
But the false light could not truly hurt the corelings. One Arm did not recoil as a squad of guardsmen, emboldened in the light, sent a row of spears its way. Many of the spear tips broke or skittered off the rock demon’s armour, and it grabbed at others, yanking hard and pulling the men past the wards as easily as a child might swing a doll.
Arlen watched the carnage in horror. The demon bit the head off one man and flung his body back into the others, knocking several from their feet. It squashed another man underfoot, and sent a third flying with a sweep of its spiked tail. He landed hard and did not rise.
The wards holding the demon back were buried beneath the bodies and blood, and One Arm bulled forward, killing at will. The guards fell back, some fleeing entirely, but as soon as they backed off, they were forgotten as the giant coreling charged Arlen’s portable circle.
‘Arlen!’ Ragen screamed, wheeling his destrier about. In his panic at the sight of the charging demon, the Messenger seemed to forget the portable circle in which the boy stood. He couched his spear and kicked the horse into a gallop, aiming at One Arm’s back.
The rock demon heard his approach and turned at the last moment, setting its feet and taking the spear full in the chest. The weapon splintered, and with a contemptuous swipe of its claws, the giant demon crushed the horse’s skull.
The destrier’s head twisted to the side and it back-pedalled into Cob’s circle, knocking him into his wardpost and sending it askew. Ragen had no time to untangle himself, and the animal took him down with it, crushing his leg and pinning him. One Arm moved in for the kill.
Arlen screamed and looked for aid, but there was none to be found. Cob was clutching at his wardpost,