"I think it was a demon,” she explained.

He nodded, his eyes filled with concern. “I heard you scream."

"I didn't scream aloud."

"I know."

She understood. “The staff,” she nodded at it, amazed. “It glows so bright."

"The elders at Western Tor are with us in spirit; their power supports us."

"What of Veldor?"

"We don't have long.” That was all he said on the matter. She felt as if the fist that had held her heart was caging it once more.

A mighty cracking sound caught both their attention. Bron drew her close in his arms. Behind them the ground started to give way. The trunk of the tree began to split, the roots splaying and lifting free of the ground.

"Dear gods, it is coming after us,” she exclaimed.

Red light spewed from the place where she'd hidden, and a horned, snout-faced creature rose up, stretching and snatching at them with clawed hands. In the darkness, its yellow eyes blinked and honed in on them. A demon—part man, part beast—stood before them. Her heart leapt as if it would break from her chest. She screamed. Aloud.

Bron thrust her behind him and held up his staff.

The creature's lips pulled back in a sneer, a long tongue lashing out in their direction. The stone atop the staff pulsed bright, growing stronger with each moment. The creature stilled. Its clawed hands snatched at the air, its head moving from side to side as it scented them out.

From the sky above, light funneled down into the staff, then circled out from it to surround them, enclosing them. Maerose saw and then felt it descending around them, and as it did, she felt its aid. It was like armor, but a warm, living thing. She clutched at Bron's back, staying behind him within the circle of light, but she was watching the demon all the same, unable to turn away.

Bron thrust his staff at the demon's head. “Be gone, return to your world until we are far from here. By the power of the ages I command it."

With a cry of anguish, the creature dropped back, cringing on its hands and knees. Reluctantly it retreated into the hole, giving one last lash of its tail as it did so. They watched as it settled. It looked like a restless hound barely biding its time.

"We must move. It will not stay subdued for long,” Bron said urgently. “Not on this night. And there are others rising. I cannot turn back more than one this way.” He gestured with the staff. “Come, we must head on, through the vines. The path is treacherous but short; stay behind me."

"It was that thing, that touched me ... when I was down there?” She said the words aloud because she couldn't quite believe it.

Bron flashed her an ironic smile. “The demon has good taste."

"Bron!” She was about to comment further when his head snapped up and he looked beyond her. From beyond the trees, voices reached them. Lights flared, moving fast in their direction.

He shook his head. “Veldor. Damn them and their noise. As if we need help in raising the dead.” He scowled. “We need as much time as we can get and they are throwing it away.” He bent to the ground and grabbed an armful of vines, throwing it over the hole where the demon lurked. “With any luck, they will meet their fate here.” He grabbed her arm. “Hurry."

Winded by the shock of what she'd seen, she stumbled behind him. It was her fault that Veldor came. She'd screamed aloud. She cursed herself for being such a fool.

"Hush,” Bron whispered.

Behind them, a man's voice cried out. And again.

Bron paused and cocked an ear. “We've lost one, maybe two of them."

"How many were there?"

"Veldor, Cale, and four others. Not happy men. Veldor's madness is rising. They see it. They are afraid."

"Will it help?"

"Yes. And your demon has saved me the task of dealing with at least two."

"My demon?” she retorted.

Tags: Saskia Walker Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net