Paul Kemp - Shadow witness

The blow crashed down on Cale with the force of a maul.

Cale careened backward off the altar awl flew through the air, arms flailing. Only the remnant of his enchanted leather armor kept his ribs from shattering.

He crashed four rows deep among the pews and collapsed in an awkward heap of bones and wood. His sword flew from his grasp and clattered away.

Battered and gasping for breath, he knew then that he was a dead man. He had failed Thazienne, had failed Mask, had failed himself. Yrsillar would finish him before he drew another breath.

The shadow demon swooped for Jak. Ready, and still clutching his holy symbol, Jak spat the magical words to a spell, "/rare luxos," and pointed at the diving demon.

Instantly, a glaring light flared in the demon's eyes, turned the milky-white orbs into glowing opals. Blinded in the middle of its headlong descent, it clawed wildly at its face and tried to pull up.

Nimbly leaping pews, Jak dived to the side as the enraged creature crashed to the floor and sent pews flying. Still hissing in anger, it climbed to its feet and flailed about with its daws in a mad effort to locate him.

Teed on you," it hissed, enraged. "Feed."

It swept wide arcs with its daws. Jak scrambled over and under the pews to avoid its reach, but it pressed him relentlessly. His spell would last for hours, but he would run out of room to run long before that.

The shadow* demon sniffed at the air as it lashed about, tike a vile hound searching for the scent trail. Jak knew that despite its blindness it could somehow sense him. He had been invisible in the Soargyl bedroom and still one had sniffed him out. He kept moving, dodging over and under pews.

It stayed on him, always one step behind, but never giving him time to plan a course of action. Jak could sense its hunger for him. It hissed and beat its wings in angry frustration. Purple veins pulsed beneath leathery skin. Its rancid-meat smell made Jak want to gag, but he dared not make a sound. He hid behind a pew, gasping, mind racing, and tried to think.

He dared not close to attack, even from the rear. An inadvertent strike by one of the enraged demon's claws would dispel his protective aura. He could cast the same spell again, of course, but that would take time. Time that he wouldn't have if he were in hand-to-hand combat with the demon. If he went too long without the protective spell, the plane would kill him.

"Feed. Feeeed."

It dosed on him He readied himself and pulled two of his throwing daggers free.

Might as well see if plain steel can hurt it in this form, he thought. He touched each blade to his luck-stone, raised his arm, threw, and darted away.

When the demon erupted in a pained squeal, Jak smiled. Thank you, Lady, he thought to Tymora. The blades had struck home.

Feed on that, wretch, he thought with a grin.

Teeed on you, little creature. Feeeed."

Leaping behind another pew, Jak placed his holy symbol in his belt pouch and jerked another dagger free of its sheath. Pumped full of adrenaline, and focused only on the demon, he suddenly felt no fear. The realization changed him. He had been frightened only moments before and he remembered being utterly terrified back at the Soargyls the last time he had faced one of these creatures.

I'm getting more like Gale every daAbruptly, the demon's hissing ceased and gave way to a series of softly muttered words. Jak didn't recognize the language, but he recognized the intonation and cadence of spellcasting.

By the gods, spells?

He peeked over the pew.

The opalescent glow had vanished from the demon's eyes. The creature had dispelled Jak's cantrip, and now it could see him. Its milky white eyes instantly discovered him.

It stalked forward, wings beating.

"Dark," Jak oathed.

He rose from behind the pew, dagger and short sword ready. The demon's hunger hit him tike a bitter wind, but he vowed not to give in to fear, vowed to give this demonic bastard the fight of its life. The last time he had faced one of these creatures, he'd frozen up, humiliated himself by wetting his pants.

"Not this time," he promised himself.

"Come on," he said through fritted teeth, and beckoned it forward with his bWe*At that moment, a victorious roar from the front of the shrine jerked his head around. He watched as Yrsillar swiped a daw through Gale's midsection, followed by a crushing blow to the chest that sent his Mend flailing through toe air to crash among the front rowsofpews^

"Caler

The shadow demon took advantage of Jak's lapse and leaped forward, quick as an adder to strike the little man.

Though the strength behind the daw nearly knocked the blade from His fist, Jak managed a parry with his dagger, A second claw rake followed. Jak leaped backward out of range then immediately lunged forward with his short sword. He was too slow. The demon backed off in a crouch and hissed, its claws weaving hypnotically through the air.

Jak saw his death in those daws. The demon was too fast, and when it hit him, his protective aura would flare out"Burn me," he said, an idea dawning.

The demon's touch would probably dispel the aura, but in the process its energy would hurt the creature, the original intent behind Jak's spell.

The beginnings of a plan took shape in his mind, a desperate gambit He would probably die, but if he did, he hoped to take the demon with

Gale righted himself and scrambled to all fours, expecting Yrsillar to thunder toward him at any moment. His lungs ached and his head throbbed. Dazed, he crawled for his sword. When he dosed his fist over the hilt, he saw the white vapor of his soul bleeding from the skin on his hand. It billowed bade toward the altar, back toward Yrsillar. Already he was beginning to feel the effect it had on him. He was growing weaker by the instant. In minutes he would be dead. He lifted his increasingly heavy head and looked out over t?e pew.

Surprisingly, Yrsillar remained on the dais. The voids of his eyes focused on Gale and he began to laugh. Gale quailed before that terrible_ sound and ducked back behind the pew, breathing hard.

"I can taste your despair, Erevis Gale," Yrsillar said. "Only now, at tine very last, do you realize your felly."

Summoning his courage, Gale again looked over the top of the pew. Yrsillar made no move to come finish the fight. Instead, he seemed content to let Gale die slowly. With the protective aura dispelled, the gray vapor of Gale's soul flowed into Yrsillar.

While he watched, the great demon sucked in the streams of Ms life-force. The demon's great body shuddered in ecstasy with each mouthful. Gale wanted to vomit. He was watching his soul be devoured piecemeal.

Yrsillar laughed as he feasted. Tfour weakness is apparent to you now, is it not, Erevis Gale?" He gobbled in still more. "So fares the so-called Champion of Mask. So fare any who rely on gods for salvation."

Or course, Gale had not relied on Mask for salvation, had not relied on Mask for anything. He did now. Prayer came hard to him, but he quelled his pride and did it.

Lend me strength, Shadowlord, he thought. If I'm to be your Champion, lend me strength.

His body suddenly grew less sluggish. Shielded from Yrsillar by the pews and invigorated by the prayer, he crawled along the row until he reached the center aisle.

"I will not give up" he vowed, the words hollow in the face of his weakness. "I will not!"

Yrsillar's laughter mocked his resolve. The demon lord continued to devour his soul, piece by piece.

Gale knew he had to retrieve Jak and get the Nine Hells out of here. The little man had been right all along-they should not have fought Yrsillar on his home plane. They needed to get back to their own plane fast or they would both die here.

I let my anger and pride blind me. He should have heeded Thamalon's advice-unbridled aggression had been his enemy. His fear of losing himself had been his enemy. -"