Chapter 43
For a single long second, everyone stared at the towering behemoth in shock. He was as tall as Grigor, but with the birdlike appearance of weaker strains of noble demons. His armor was elven in origin and coated in their runes. Talons the size of a man’s head decorated his hands and feet.
Then the spell shattered, and most began to scatter. The Malus League mages began to flee, fearing that this was Rys’s work. The Gorgrian knights rushed to the side of their queen.
Faeris stared at the demon lord in shock.
“I thought the pact wasn’t ready!” Fara screamed at Rys, suddenly by his side.
“It’s not,” he said grimly, gripping his axe. “This is a temporary summoning, not a pact. Grishaw must have been bound inside that ruby somehow.”
Not that Rys knew for sure how it had been done. While a summoned infernal could be brought to the summoner’s side with a spell, the Labyrinth should have blocked it. Rys conducted his summonings in the Labyrinth antechamber for a reason.
Varian was almost certainly behind this, given he had also been capable of communicating from afar inside the Labyrinth.
“So if we defeat him here…”
“Grishaw will survive. But we can still banish him. A demon lord will take years to reform in Hell,” Rys said.
Fara stared at him. “Do they know that?”
“I doubt it. Grishaw likely doesn’t expect to die here.” Rys grinned.
The demon lord in question cackled and snapped his talons. He looked around the room in a leisurely manner, as if trying to determine who to kill first.
Then he spotted Rys and Grigor, who stood next to each other beside Maliah, who was on the verge of collapse.
“So it was you, Grigor. I had suspected as much from the earlier descriptions,” Grishaw said. He stroked his beak. “I’m surprised to see you here. Has this human fooled you by taking on the name of your old comrade?”
“He has not fooled me, Lord Grishaw. Rys will always be my general,” Grigor boomed.
Grishaw blinked, then looked down at Rys. “You? With such pitiful power?”
Ouch. That burned. Grishaw was one of Ariel’s demon lords, and was used to how powerful her royal devils were. He recognized power.
Right now, Rys paled in comparison to any royal devil in existence, save for the most specialized such as assassins.
And maybe the paper pushers. Although some of the knowledge devils were far more dangerous than they appeared to be in the upper echelons of Hell.
“Yeah, I don’t answer to random demon lords,” Rys said. “But let’s make a deal.”
“Why would I deal with you?”
“Because if you don’t, I know a few devils who can make sure you don’t survive a day when you return to Hell.” A bluff, given Rys was trying to avoid attention in Hell right now.
Grishaw’s eyes narrowed. He clacked his talons together again.
“What the hell are you waiting for, Grishaw? Kill him! And give me the bitch queen,” Maliah screamed. He rose to his feet.
Faeris had retreated behind a wall of knights. The only people still in the chamber were her, the knights, and the five top mages from the League.
“I don’t take threats idly,” Grishaw said.
“You’re a spymaster. Weigh things up. A verbal contract. If I defeat you here, then you won’t communicate anything about me to Hell. In exchange, I won’t have you killed for… let’s say a decade after you reform in Hell, unless you return to Harrium.” Rys smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“Hmph. That’s it? Fine. I agree, but the entire contract only lasts for one decade after I reform.” Grishaw waved a taloned hand dismissively. “Only if you defeat me, naturally.”
“Agreed.” Rys felt the contract snap into place.
He had hoped to trick the demon lord into a lopsided deal, but this worked. The original terms meant that Grishaw could have never leaked word of him to Hell at all, no matter how much time passed. A decade would have to do.
Most likely, Grishaw would either be back, or Rys would be ready to deal with Hell by then.
“Grishaw!” Maliah said.
“Now then, I suppose I should deal with my previous customer.” Grishaw turned to face Faeris.
A moment later, he practically teleported across the chamber. A pair of hawk wings burst through his robe, launching him faster than Rys expected.
Several knights exploded into red mist and shards of metal. Faeris surged with magical energy and barely deflected his attack. But Grishaw didn’t retreat. He towered over the queen, ignoring the knights who poked and prodded at him from all sides with spells and swords.
“No!” Mave screamed.
He shot across the chamber, the runes on his greatsword glowing. Grishaw spun and caught the blow with one hand. The blade embedded into his carapace. A swift kick dented Mave’s armor, but he remained in place.
An orb of blue magic slammed into the demon lord a moment later, causing him to stumble backward.
“Graem, what are you doing?” Maliah shouted. “This is our chance to avenge Elias.”
“Elias is dead, Maliah. Mave isn’t. I won’t let another friend die for your foolishness,” Graem said. He prepared another spell.
Blasts of force and waves of hellfire rained down on Grishaw. He grunted, and still fought back. With a single movement, the demon lord brought himself over to Fara and the Ashen. He raised his talons, prepared to sweep them away.
Grigor body slammed Grishaw, and bowled him over. Both demons rolled, before Grishaw slammed his foot-long talons into Grigor.
A rolling thrum of power burst from Grigor as he activated his revival Gift. Grishaw scythed into the demon prince, desperately trying to tear him apart.
Rys took the chance to prepare a blast of hellfire far greater than anything he ever had before. A triple-layered magical circle appeared beneath his feet, and he began to focus energy directly from the Labyrinth.
“No. I have come too far to let you do this,” Maliah said. His body shimmered with that strange glow again.
“Enough, Maliah! You’ll kill yourself,” Graem said.
Rys wouldn’t mind that, to be honest.
Mave and Graem intercepted Maliah’s attempt to attack Rys, which freed up everyone else to focus on Grishaw. Grigor’s revival Gift made him immortal for a short while, but a demon lord was a demon lord.
Banishing Grishaw would take an immense amount of power. Rys was preparing that as they fought, but he needed at least another minute.
Maybe he should have held onto that forest fire he put out back when he saved Vallis. That energy might have been useful right now. The circle he used right now glowed with a similar density of magic, and his entire body strained under the pressure of maintaining the spell.
Grigor’s revival Gift peaked, and he pulled away. Grishaw nearly ripped him in half in the process, however. Gore covered half of the chamber, and Grigor leaned heavily on his axe.
Hellfire and blasts of force slowed Grishaw for a second. He tensed, preparing to charge forward and end Rys.
But he didn’t. Instead, the demon lord closed his eyes and relaxed. For several long seconds, he appeared to be lost. His beak clacked open and closed.
Rys’s succubus giggled. All eyes had been elsewhere, and she had slipped inside Grishaw’s head.
Then the moment passed. Grishaw broke free from the succubus’s hold and screeched in fury.
“I will end this! All of you!” he bellowed.
Rys didn’t bother with a quip of his own. He merely finished casting his spell.
One half of the chamber was swallowed in blood red hellfire, so strong and dense that the Labyrinth appeared to be melting away under the power. Staring at the prismatic light bleeding off the spell harmed Rys’s eyes. Everyone else shielded their faces.
When the spell ceased, nothing remained.
“Is he dead?” Fara asked.
“Impossible. I didn’t have anywhere near the power or preparation to kill a demon lord,” Rys said. “That wouldn’t have even killed Grigor or Fred. You need to use specialized methods to permanently kill powerful infernals.”
Which frustrated Rys, but that had been why he baited Grishaw into the deal at the beginning.
Fortunately, Grishaw had known who Rys was. According to Mave, the demon lord had recognized Rys from the moment he had heard Rys’s name. Grishaw had insulted Rys, but the fact he agreed to the contract was proof that he had known Rys was the real deal.
The real problem was preparing for Grishaw’s return years from now.
“Where’s Maliah?” Rys asked, scowling as he noticed that the archwarlock had fled.
Mave and Graem kneeled together on side of the room. Both were badly wounded, but no worse than when Rys had fought them at Lapisloch. Faeris hovered nearby, batting away her knights.
“He fled when you cast that spell. Pulled some jewels out of his pockets, popped off some fireworks, then ran like a coward,” one of the Ashen explained. “Guy has contingencies for contingencies.”
“I imagine that’s how he’s survived this long,” Rys said.
For now, he took the victory he had achieved.
The demon lord Grishaw had been banished and couldn’t be resummoned for years. Maliah had been embarrassed and nearly killed after using his trump card. The Black Sorcerers had openly turned on him—although Rys noticed that Yoam had fled at some point. An alliance between the Rys’s and Faeris’s kingdoms had been forged, at least tentatively.
And Avolar was his. Nothing had gone wrong, strictly speaking.
“That face suggests that you’re looking for the silver lining,” Fara said.
“I’ve told Mina before that you can’t succeed at everything. This time, I merely succeeded at nearly everything,” Rys said.
“And I bet you’re seething inside.”
“Oh, absolutely. I’ll tear Maliah limb from limb and feed him to my dogs that I don’t have. Unless the wolfkin servants count, I guess.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ve won, Fara. More importantly, I’ve stopped their summoning for the near future. It’s time to go home.”