It was a gamble he had to take. Spells and steel hadn’t defeated the demon; he doubted anything would. And if he didn’t manifest his power, Karrell would die.
Guiding the energies with his mind, he coiled one loop around the demon, another around Karrell. Then he tied them together and yanked the knot tight.
“Demon!” he shouted. “I’ve just bound your fate to the yuan-ti woman. Kill her, and you’ll die!”
It was a desperate lie. Karrell’s death would mean little to the demon. She might cause it a slight wound, but no more.
Ignoring Arvin, the demon slashed at Karrell with its sword. This time, Karrell’s reaction was slower; the sword sliced a line down her cheek as she wrenched her head aside. The demon grunted—then hissed and touched its own cheek with the back of a hand. The hand came away slick with green blood.
The demon turned to face Arvin and tried to speak, but no words came from its mouth. It seemed to be having trouble breathing. It frowned down at Karrell, who lay gasping on the floor, then uncoiled its tail from her. Then it stared, its eyes slit with malevolence, at Arvin. “Unbind me, sorcerer,” it commanded.
Relief washed through Arvin. He glanced at Karrell.
Her lips formed silent words: “Thank you.”
Arvin gave her a grim smile. Just a few moments more, and Marasa would surely appear and banish the demon. He stared back at it through the whirling blades that still surrounded the dais. “No,” he told the demon. “You will remain bound.”
The demon flicked a hand, and the blades disappeared. It cocked its head to the side and considered Arvin. “Mortal,” it hissed. “Surely you can be persuaded.” Its hand opened, revealing a glitter of gems. The demon tipped its hand, letting them spill from its palm onto the floor. “The yuan-ti means nothing to me; she may go. Unbind me from her, and these are yours.”
Arvin smiled grimly. “A rogue tried to entice me with a similar offer a few days ago,” he said. “He’s dead now.”
The demon clenched its fist—causing the swords to reappear—and pointed one of them at Arvin. “Unbind me!” it roared.
Arvin gripped the gauntlet with sweaty hands. “No.”
“We seem to have reached an impasse,” the demon hissed.
Outside the chapel, just beyond the spot where one of the soldier’s bodies lay, Arvin saw a flash of silver: light, glinting off a polished breastplate. Marasa stepped into view in the doorway, her lips moving as she whispered a spell, her left hand—clad in a silver gauntlet whose palm was set with an enormous, glittering sapphire—extended toward the demon.
“Yes,” Arvin answered. “It seems we have.” He shrugged, a gesture that removed his hands for no more than a fraction of a heartbeat from the gauntlet. It had the desired effect; the demon lashed out with a sword, but before the blade connected, Arvin’s hands were back on the gauntlet.
The demon glared at him, oblivious to Karrell, who had risen to her hands and knees and was crawling away, her wounded hand leaving a smear of blood on the floor, and to Marasa, who was casting her spell. Marasa swept her hand down toward the demon, the sapphire in her gauntlet glinting. “By Helm’s all-seeing might, I order you, demon, back to the place from whence you came!” she shouted.
The demon rose from the floor, roaring, slashing wildly with its swords. A rent appeared in the air next to it; an angry boil that burst open, emitting a sulfurous stench. Dark shapes writhed inside the tear in the fabric of the planes, howling and thrashing. The demon tumbled toward them.
Karrell fell onto her side—had she slipped on her own blood? As she rose again, blood from her wounded hand streamed toward the hole in a thin red ribbon—a ribbon the demon grabbed in one clawed hand.
Arvin reeled, realizing he’d seen this once before: in the vision at Naneth’s home.
Still roaring, the demon disappeared through the gap between the planes. Karrell was yanked after it, screaming.
The gap closed.
For a heartbeat, Arvin stood rooted to the spot, Karrell’s scream echoing in his mind. Then he hurled himself across the chapel toward the spot where she’d disappeared. “Karrell!” he cried desperately. Tears streaming down his face, he clutched at empty air. He sagged to the ground and beat his fists against the floor. A fate link wasn’t supposed to work that way; it transferred pain, wounds, even fatal injury from one individual to the next, but that was all.
What had gone wrong?
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Marasa staring down at him. Her face was deeply lined and streaked with tears; her hair seemed even grayer than it had been before. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize….”
Arvin looked up at her through tear-blurred eyes. “Karrell was still alive when she went into the Abyss. Is there any way she could still be—”
Marasa shook her head grimly. “No. She would never survive.”
Arvin’s shoulders slumped.
