Oathbreaker ch 9.34 - The Demon, Samaoth (Patreon)

It cloaked itself in the fires of the Silver City.

But it was a demon.

It squatted on all fours like a beast. Its shape had something of the bestial in it, though it was hard to make out clearly through the crackling cloak of argent flames. Apelike, I thought, with powerful arms and squat, double-jointed lower legs. A long, metallic tongue lolled from its open maw, as though the wriggling muscle was too large to fit into the mouth. Its eyes were constantly shifting, shrinking and expanding, warping into abstract shapes. In every configuration, from every angle, the spirit bled hatred.

“You Beheld,” I said to it. “More than that, I see!”

I let a short, mocking laugh escape my lips. At Geoff’s frown, I explained aloud. “It bathed itself in the empyreal fires of Heaven. Many of them did, the poor fools.”

Some Abgrûdai, desperate to reverse their cosmic paradigm, had arrayed themselves in the blessed treasures of Heaven or hurled themselves into the very fires of divinity. They’d not managed to make themselves angels, only increased their suffering tenfold.

But they were very dangerous. That stolen fire would sting. I flexed my claws and prepared to fight.

“Defend yourself, priest. This one is rancorous, and it wants you.”

No sooner had I spoken than the silver demon charged. It moved like wind, like sound and thunder, and its wail should have echoed across the whole city.

I wondered at that. This neighborhood seemed suspiciously empty and quiet.

My wondering did not impede action. The silver demon went directly towards me, perhaps perceiving that it could not reach its true target — Geoff — while I stood in its way. Against a lesser enemy, I might have spread my wings out wide to appear larger and more threatening, but against this foe I folded them in to make my vulnerable body a smaller target. While my barbed wings formed shields and my tail spat and dripped venom, ready to strike, my lips and fingers wove another curse.

It might be mad with agony, but it was still a veteran of the Sack just as I was. I would not take it lightly.

The silver demon struck like a bolt of lightning. I merely moved fast as a lashing viper, but I’d gotten a head start and gauged its speed early. I knew that I wasn’t fast or strong enough to take it head on — but it had already proven itself capable of being redirected.

It struck me, or what it thought was me. My double disintegrated under its onslaught into a pile of splashing black sludge and burning ichor. My true self slithered away through the thin cracks of the Harkresian pavement, though I felt the lash of that hateful fire across my back. The demon shrieked in rage as it savaged its kill and felt none of the satisfying feedback it should have.

While I got distance, I kept analyzing the situation. The demon’s voice didn’t carry like it should. Almost like something muffled it. A barrier around the square?

Someone wanted the Bant priest dead very badly, but they did not want attention.

Speaking of the priest, he’d not remained dumb and idle as the demon attacked. I caught sight of him through serpent’s eyes, for I’d taken the shape of one to slip away. He lifted his Auremark, which flickered with metallic golden flames. Prayers escaped his lips, and to my eyes those words went out like tiny sparrows of fire.

He had real power, too.

His Art was a simple thing, and beautiful for it. I’d heard that the sacral knights of the eastern kingdoms guarded a great arsenal of powerful techniques, and what I saw then must have been an offshoot of those secret magics. His faith and righteous rage at the evil before him hardened about his upraised hand and turned the High Oroionic bursting from his lips into iron gold.

An auratic hammer appeared in Geoff’s fist, large as a blacksmith’s mallet and blazing bright as the sun. He brought it to his lips as though to kiss it, then hurled it at the silver demon. The hammer tumbled end over end, becoming a brilliant spinning discus of gold that shot out sparks like an alchemical firework.

It struck the demon, and there was a brilliant flash of light that blinded me for long moments. It must have done incredible damage, for it destroyed the remnants of the body double I’d left in an instant and ruined the curse I’d planted in it. Which was well and fine, since his attack proved the more effective one.

Incredible, I thought with no small amount of fear. They’ve become so strong.

Once, only the rarest humans were able to awaken their aura. Once, it had required intensive rites and exposure to dangerous elemental energies for a mortal to strengthen their soul enough to manifest that power into a tangible weapon. Their sparks were small and more potent in bulk.

Now, even this itinerant cleric could make hammers of light. The powers of the cosmos were no longer secreted in the vaults of jealous gods.

I reformed into my preferred shape and regained my senses. A bonfire of auratic heat burned at the center of the plaza. Glowing cracks spread across the pavement around the spot, bright as sunlight at first but quickly cooling.

Sweat beaded on Geoff’s skin, and he breathed hard. He was no paladin, merely a cleric and channel for his god to work through. Wielding that kind of power taxed a mortal body.

“Beware,” I said. “It’s not over.”

“I know!” He growled.

The golden fire suddenly flashed bright white, then turned to metallic silver. The shape of the demon appeared at the center of that plume, larger now, bloated with its own fury. It was hurt.

Abgrûdai do not act rationally when in pain. It grew again, the size of a war chimera now, and its claws flashed. I could make out more of its true shape then — still little more than a silhouette, I made out the sharp spikes along the curve of its spine, the warped crown on its brow that had fused to the skull — it must have been so painful to feel that constant touch of metal. Its arms were not apish, I realized, but the claws of a mantis, and its head had two large bulbous protrusions. Glaring eyes, bloodshot and almost human.

It had four transparent wings like blades of silver, which were what had made that screeching sound before, and it possessed no lower body at all, just black fire and silver light that formed the indistinct shape of a lashing tail. No simian thing at all.

A dragonfly.

Curse you, Aureate priest.

You will

Suffer.

The voice was beautiful, like a silver bell tuned to perfection.

I said, “Samaoth?”

The beautiful dragonfly form came apart then, and once more it was shadow and vindictive angel fire. It shot into the sky, becoming a white-hot comet that quick vanished into the dark clouds.

Heading in the direction of the cathedral. Geoff lowered his glowing amulet, glaring up at the sky.

“Monster,” he spat.

“That monster was a saint of demons, priest.” I stared after the departed demon as well. “Hate them if you must, but few of us have ever tried so hard or suffered so much to become something… more.”

The Marchlander cleric turned on me then, and brought his glowing amulet to bear. I rolled my eyes.

“Must we?” I asked.

“You may not be in league with that thing,” he said with implacable conviction, “but you are still profane. Tell me what you want, demon.”

“I’ve already told you.” I gestured in the general direction where the other demon had appeared. “I’m here to deal with that. It’s doing something problematic inside the cathedral. And besides…” I threw the cleric a withering look. “Had I not been here to save you, then you would have died on this spot. You were led right into an ambush. Speaking of…”

I gave a silent command, and my remaining scadudemon dragged the other priest back into the square. He’d tried to escape during the skirmish, but I was quite capable of dividing my attention. My shadow had taken on a more humanoid shape, and had its long arms wrapped around the struggling man. Though he fought hard, the scadu didn’t seem to move at all, only held, yet they both drifted towards the center of the square like they were pulled by an invisible rope.

I gestured at my prize. “See? I’ve helped.”

Geoff bared his teeth, worked his jaw, muttered something under his breath. Then he drew himself up and approached the other priest, all without taking his glare off me or letting his sacred gold go cold.

I gave a little curtsy as he came up opposite the fallen man, stretching my wings out in the motion. The scadu drifted back a ways, leaving its captive shivering and exhausted on the ground. It had sapped some of his life force. Not enough to kill him, but it left him more helpless than even manacles would have.

Geoff finally turned his attention down to the whimpering man, who was clutching his burnt right hand and casting fearful eyes at me. He reached down and ripped the other man’s cowl off, then spat a curse. “Hamet. So they got to you too?”

The young man sputtered. His round cheeks were dark red, his eyes so wide they almost bugged out of his skull. “Th-they just told me to follow you, Geoff, just to follow you! I don’t know anything, I swear.”

“Enough of that,” Geoff murmured in a surprisingly soft voice, and the younger man fell silent. “Did Curate Darras send?”

Hamet licked his lips, his eyes flicking everywhere but at the other man’s face. Unfortunately, the only other thing to see was me, and he stared with wide eyes. I still held my succubus shape, wings folded in demurely, serpent wound about the hem of my tunic.

“What is that, Brother Geoff?” Hamet’s voice held a tinge of growing panic. “What have you brought here? What was that thing before?”

“You know very well what that is,” Geoff said without so much as a glance my way. “I think you also know that there’s something very bad standing behind the Archcurate. You’re not blind, boy.”

Hamet couldn’t take his eyes off me. “I-Is she wyrmblighted? Oh, sweet saints of silver, we need to be cleansed!”

I giggled. Being called a dragon wasn’t on my list of insults, but I rather liked it.

“She’s a succubus,” Geoff snapped. “Now, stop being hysterical and answer me! Did Curate Darras send you? Or was it the Archcurate himself?”

“I could have these answers out in moments,” I offered. “He’s not going to speak. He’s more scared of whatever’s on that hill than he is of you, but I’m fairly certain I can make him scared enough of me…”

Geoff didn’t answer me, but his manner became grave and he let those words hang in the air before speaking in a softer voice. “Do you want that, brother? To have it peel apart your mind?”

Hamet’s face turned ashen. “You wouldn’t! Consorting with the Adversary is sin. You’ll go to Hell!”

“We’re all bound for Hell if this thing isn’t stopped, brother. What do you think you’re doing by helping those fake priests? There’s rot in the Curia, Hamet. It’s why I came here. Lady Auriya sent for me to help you. That’s why they killed her!”

“You’re an exorcist,” I said in realization. “A demon hunter.”

He ignored me. “Please, Hamet. I’m trying to save us from what you fear.”

Another moment of defiance, and then his shoulders slumped and all the air seemed to go out of him. He spoke dully. “I… all the gods damn you, Geoff. Did you really sell your friend out to the Archcurate?”

Geoff fell silent a moment. “He was reckless, and he intended to betray me out of fear. I’ll face my god for my sins, in the end.”

Hamet closed his eyes and shuddered. “It was Curate Darras. He told me… he said that you’re an agent for the Aureates, that you’re here to suborn our faith. He said that the people who’ve gone missing are your fault, that you have some kind of network here, and you’re vanishing people and preparing a coup to take over the cathedral.”

Geoff let out a snort. “He said all that, did he?”

Hamet’s eyes flashed open. “Is it true?”

The aureate shook his head. “I am a faithful servant of Heaven’s true heir. Believe that, if nothing else.”

“It’s true,” I piped in. “I can practically warm my hands on it.”

“Quiet, hell-witch.” Geoff shot me another glare, and I shrugged. He returned his attention to Hamet. “As for the rest, there’s not some secret cabal of agents. It was me, Auriya, and Egon, and he knew less than was good for him… I do regret that. Lady Auriya didn’t tell me exactly what she wanted me for, and I thought I was coming here to make a new home for my family away from the war in Bant. I expected to take work as a scribe, not get involved in this damned conspiracy.”

The man sighed. I felt a touch of sympathy, though more for his poor wife than him.

“I don’t know anything else, Geoff.” Hamet shook his head. “I swear.”

“He’s lying,” I sang. “He knows something. I don’t think anyone can have been inside that cathedral the last few years and know nothing.”

The exorcist narrowed his eyes. I saw him try to force himself to believe the man.

But he couldn’t. He knew it just as truly as I did. His family was here now, and though his whole being begged him to show mercy, it could kill his children to do so.

“I’m sorry, brother.”

“Wait, Geoff, you don’t have to—”

I sighed. “Wait.”

Geoff’s big hands were already reaching for the other priest’s throat, but he paused. “What is it?” He growled without looking at me.

“If he dies, your enemies will know you killed him. They sent him to stalk you, remember?”

Geoff shook his head. “I know that, but if he returns to the cathedral and tells them all of this…”

“You don’t think they already know it from the one we just fought? He went right back to the cathedral. Killing this dupe will be a waste of good blood.”

His jaw worked, and his reply came out as a near snarl. “Do you have another suggestion, then?”

I nodded. “He won’t tell them anything except what we want him to. Move aside, priest.”

Geoff’s eyes narrowed. “What are you going to do?”

“Spare your conscience.”

It was obvious that part of him believed simply strangling the man to death was better than letting me do anything to him, but he reluctantly pulled back. I took a languid step forward and let a leg slip free of the folds of my long tunic. My bare foot pressed against the granite next to Hamet’s right hip.

In that position, he had to look up my entire body to meet my eyes. He had the usual dark skin of northerners, with the reddish-brown hair I’d noted was common in this particular region. Sweat beaded along his brow, and his brown eyes were wide and guileless.

I considered simply Kissing him. He had an appeal, like a trembling, slightly overweight little rabbit, and he definitely had a reaction to me. He wasn’t exactly my type, but his obvious fear of me was endearing.

But the Kiss was a slow magic, and we needed something a bit more immediate and certain. Besides, tasting three different men in the span of a single day felt a touch promiscuous, even to me.

So instead, I planted my foot between his legs so it trapped the skirt of his robe, then knelt down and grabbed his chin. I dug my sharp nails in, so he grimaced in pain and started to protest.

Then, rather than putting my tongue into his mouth, I shoved my fingers in and grabbed his.

I worked quickly. While he gagged and fought my grip, I used the razor-sharp nail of my left forefinger and slashed his tongue. His struggles turned frantic and he mewled. I made another cut, so the wound became a cross, then marked it with a third crooked line. The Kandaric rune burned into his pink flesh, and he moaned in agony.

I inspected my work a moment, then released him. He rolled on the stone, clutching his face and making small, pitiful noises of distress.

“You will return to the cathedral and report that you followed Geoff, as instructed. You saw that silver monster attack him, but you fled and did not see the outcome. You will say nothing of me or this conversation — as far as you’re concerned, I do not exist. Geoff went to the inn, drank, spoke with no one, and then you lost him in… what part of town is this?”

“The Street of Coursers,” Geoff provided.

“Right. That.” I provided a few more instructions, though it was only for the benefit of the glowering exorcist standing behind me. Brother Hamet wouldn’t be saying anything we didn’t want him to now, not without excruciating pain.

And I had my plant in the cathedral. Not bad for two days.

Geoff looked skeptical when I stood to face him. “Won’t the curates see the wound on his tongue?”

“It heals quickly,” I said. “Though it reopens again if he’s naughty.”

The exorcist sighed. “Brother Hamet isn’t a bad man. Just an unlucky one. I don’t like this.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You like it less than strangling him to death? Now he has a chance of surviving. Besides.” I licked some of the monk’s blood from my fingers. “He can feed us information from inside the cathedral.”

He grimaced, but changed the subject, perhaps if only to drown out the sound of Hamet’s whimpering. “So, you’re the familiar of the wizard in Ember?”

Familiar was putting it so much more formally than was true, but I shrugged. “He sensed dangerous fluctuations of planar energies in this region, and sent me to investigate. I’m investigating.”

“And how did you know there’s a demon in the cathedral?” He asked with suspicion.

I didn’t want to mention Didikas. It would complicate my motivates and make me seem less trustworthy.

“I am a good spy,” I said. Except when you decide to entertain yourself and impulsively show your true form to Aureate exorcists, I added in silent self-reprimand.

The dour priest considered a moment. “The Magi work in mysterious ways. I don’t like knowing that one of those we consider an ally against the Cambion is using Abgrûdai minions. What kind of bindings does he have on you?”

I scoffed. “Buy me dinner first! Listen, priest, you and I are here for the same reason. Not only that, but I made sure that pretty wife of yours and your brats got past the walls and into safety. You did a poor job of preparing for them, and the Curia probably would have taken your wife the day she arrived had I not intervened.”

His distracted gaze focused on my face, which was still Margret’s face. “Where are they?”

“In the same inn I told you about earlier, and safe as they can be.” I rubbed a thumb over my lips, regretting that I probably wouldn’t get a second taste of their marital passion.

“So it’s blackmail,” he said flatly.

I rolled my eyes. “Do you have a safer place for them?”

He considered, and nodded. “I’ve been operating out of an old church near the western gate. I’ll take them there.”

He glanced down at Hamet, and his expression turned even more grim. “We’ll… speak again. I don’t trust you, demon, but I’m short on allies and you used a respected name. If this is the worst of my sins in this place, then that’s just as well.”

Oh, my, the self flagellating pragmatist. Maybe I could take Margret’s shape again, see if he used that same guttural growl while he was—

I needed to focus. “I’ll see you again soon, priest. Try not to die. Tonight was fun.”

I glanced toward the cathedral. Samaoth had retreated in that direction. I could just make out its towers rising in the distance, deep black against the night sky.

It still had fight in it when it quit the struggle. I wondered if it had been called back. Only a warlock’s command could have compelled it to retreat. Are you watching, Ammatán? Are you even your own master, or a prisoner in those walls?

Either way, I’d committed to saving Didikas’s son if I could. I wondered what it would feel like to repair something, rather than destroy it.