Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,32

closed his eyes on the sight of Silas’s tall, lean form, outlined by green brilliance, and didn’t open them again when the chanting began.

Chapter 8

Silas held onto the rune-structure he’d called around the demon with all his will and both hands. Somewhere behind him was Darien, who’d given everything he had— and maybe more— to power this spell. Silas ached to have one second, one instant, to turn and make sure Darien was all right, but banishing a demon was like trying to hold onto a greased pig, if the pig was on fire and could kill you. If he slacked off for a millisecond, they’d all be dead.

The demon pushed at the spell surrounding it, probing with little tendrils and heavier blasts of power, looking for a weak spot. For now, it was still animating Crosby’s corpse. Its balefire gleaming behind a man’s dead eyes made Silas shudder but he kept control of his runes.

It’s trapped. Open the hellgate.

He reached inside his containment spell and tweaked the runes that would thin the barrier. A necromancer’s true power lay there, in the walls between worlds. He pushed more energy into his Gate, feeling the strain drag through his muscles and speed his breathing. The barrier thinned, stretched, then popped like a soap-bubble tearing wide across the containment wall to wall. A rush of dark energy came through, spattering up against Silas’s walls.

The demon shed Crosby’s body like a snake’s skin to stand clothed in flame. “You fool. You’ve made me stronger.”

There was no way to avoid that. He could only hope his barriers held. He raised one hand, visualized the rune-structure in his mind and began closing his fingers. Slowly, inch by inch, the walls around the demon closed in.

The demon threw a blast of energy that slammed into the barrier on all sides. The spell was built to withstand that. Silas’s fingers and arm ached, but he closed down tighter. A second lightning-bolt scorched a single spot, trying to burn though. The heat seared his ring finger, but he ignored it. Close up. Smaller. By my will, I command it.

The walls narrowed until the demon could put out both hands and touch them. Now Silas could feel it in his palm, the squirming, wriggling, pressing fight as the demon struggled to test his grip.

“I will not be constrained!” the demon shouted. “I am Azimothandurin!” A vast rippling wave of force hit the barrier around it, each syllable a harder blow.

Silas staggered, barely holding on, stunned by the number of syllables, a measure of the demon’s power. But it’s desperate enough to conjure by its name, and let me hear it. He forced his hand tighter. “By your name, Azimothandurin, I banish you.” He wove the name into the runes in his head. His fingers moved an inch closer together.

“You can’t.” The demon’s arms were pressed close to its sides now, the walls closing in on it.

Its body blocked the gap, so the fear of another demon using the breach to escape was eased. If they ever learned to cooperate, mankind would be doomed, but luckily it wasn’t in their nature. Silas closed his pinky and the containment rose up around the demon’s knees, forcing its feet back. “By the power freely given me, I banish you.”

“Wealth, life, a thousand slaves,” it bargained. “There’s a plague coming only I can cure. All your loved ones will die, if you don’t have my help.”

“You lie like a snake.” He managed a quirk of his thumb, and the demon had to duck its head down. The glowing green combined with the demon’s flame to cast a lurid glow on its shifting, changing features.

The demon suddenly metamorphosed. Darien’s face looked out of the hellfire at Silas, panting for air, panic in every line. “I’m dying, Silas,” it gasped. “Save me.”

Silas gritted his teeth and gave a harder squeeze. I hope banishment hurts like being burned alive, you bastard.

Its face shifted again, a weird blend of features. “He really is dying. By the time you’re done with me, he’ll be gone.”

Silas’s flinch gave the demon headroom back and it shoved upward. He gritted his teeth, reclosed his hand, and didn’t look behind him. Can’t. Don’t. “Damn you to your hell. For a thousand and one years, I banish you!” Anger and fear and the last rising dregs of his power let him slam his fist shut. His nails jabbed into his palm. The rift inside his rune-structure narrowed, shortened, forcing the demon back.

More. Harder.