Marked by Death (Necromancer #1) - Kaje Harper Page 0,57

around him, feeling them loosening now Norgaard was distracted. Darien was closest to Burns, between him and the door. At least Darien’s shield was up and dense, gleaming gold.

The demon began boiling up out of Burns’s body, thick smoke lit by balefire. Someone behind Silas threw a bolt at it, which it batted aside with ease, scorching a hole in the rug. A crossfire of spells met, trying to enclose the demon, interfering with each other. The demon lashed out, white lightning passing near enough to crisp Silas’s hair, striking someone’s shields behind him.

The reek of burned hair hit Silas’s nose. I don’t have proper shields! Norgaard’s bonds blocked that power too. He fought wildly now, forming runes in his head, pushing his meager thread of force till he had spots before his eyes and the world dimmed. Susan’s voice rang out. “He’s heading for the door. Don’t let him get loose!”

There were sizzles and cracks and the smell of burned wool, then suddenly silence.

Silas stopped fighting, blinking his eyes. Darien! His breath caught as he saw Darien standing unshielded, both fists thrust out in front of him. Beyond his hands, the gold dome of Darien’s shields stood like an overturned teacup, with just hints of Burns and the demon visible through the sparking, swirling power of the shield walls. A flash of lightning inside rocked Darien, but the walls held.

“What did you do?” Silas gasped. No! Protect yourself! Except those walls were containing the demon. For now.

“I inverted it.” There was a lot of strain in Darien’s voice. “But it’s not going to last forever. I assume you wizardly folk can figure out what to do when I let go?”

“That’s a necromancer’s job,” Ferngold said. “Worthington?”

“He’s out cold, I’m afraid.” Susan Snow bent over Worthington, then turned to Norgaard who sat with his hands gripping his head like it might fall off. “Norry?”

“Don’t touch him!” Silas warned her. “He’s tainted.” Or worse.

“Not anymore. Burns was holding me.” Norgaard dropped his hands to reveal haunted eyes. “Silas, I’m so sorry—”

“Let me loose, dammit!”

Norgaard lifted a hand, and the bonds holding Silas dropped so abruptly he went to one knee on the carpet.

He struggled to his feet, shaking out his numb fingers and pulling up his best rune structure in his mind. Darien was standing frozen, sweat running down his face. His eyes were fixed on the golden dome of energy trapping Burns and his demon, its walls flickering with the power the demon was throwing at it.

Ferngold muttered, “How’s he doing that? You can’t invert shields.”

“Shut up!” Silas snapped. Power and intent, and confidence. The last thing Darien needed right now was his certainty shaken.

He moved up beside Darien, who muttered, “I hope you have a plan.”

“Yes.” His turn to pretend confidence, even though he wasn’t sure how it would go. “I’m going to build my containment structure around yours. Then when I’m ready, you take yours down, and mine should hold them.” I hope. My luck can’t be bad enough to run into two high-power demons in one week.

“Now would be good.” The tendons in Darien’s neck stood out with the strain. Damp circles were beginning to soak his shirt under the arms.

Now. Silas wove his containment runes quickly, adding in the thrice-circled wall and reinforced lock he’d used for Azimothandurin. He paused, sucked in air, and breathed power into the structure, his hand out to control it. His green walls sprung up around Darien’s.

For a moment the double dome hung there, the gold shining through the green. Darien grated through clenched teeth, “Gonna lose mine.”

“Slowly, if you can. No rebound. Let it go easy.”

“Arrrgh.” Darien lowered his closed fists and slowly eased his fingers open. The gold faded, spread, and then merged seamlessly into Silas’s walls.

Silas’s walls lit bright, like adding a hit of AC current to a battery-powered light. That warm energy was familiar, simple, useful. Silas’s spellwork absorbed it, used it, shining stronger than before. Darien dropped to the floor with a thump. Silas didn’t dare look away from his construct. He was relieved to hear a mutter of “Ow, my ass. Fuck.” If Darien was swearing, he wasn’t that bad off.

Silas wrestled with the containment, as the demon inside sent little blasts of energy against him. He realized to his relief that this demon was no challenge. Three syllables at most. He thinned his wall enough to see Burns. The demon had slipped back into his skin, but a swirl of smoke lingered in his