Paul Kemp: Shadow witness

"That's it, Cale, that's all I can do," Jak said as he pocketed his holy symbol.

Gale nodded, held up his blade. "Well make do with only these, then."

, Jak chuckled softly, indicated Gale's shredded cloak and torn leather armor. "Not exactly in the best shape for this though, are we?"

"We'll be all right," Cale reassured him. "We've got an extra ally now," He showed Jak the felt mask he held in his hand.

The Mttle man took in Cale's meaning, nodded knowingly. "You've accepted then?"

"I've accepted. Let's go."

Together, they turned and walked for the doors that opened onto the shrine of Mask, his god. Jak fell in beside him.

Before they had taken five paces, the sound of an opening gate from within the shrine gave them pause. The voice of fee Righteous Man, the voice of Yrsillar, came through the doors.

"Erevis Cale! You will face me!" want nothing more," Gale muttered, and made for the doors.

As they walked, Jak grabbed Gale's forearm. "Remember, he's weaker here, but hell still have magic. We need to be careful."

"We will." He looked down on Jak and held up the felt mask. "I have to face him in the shrine. We fought him on his turf. Now well fight him on mine."

Jak eyed the mask, nodded in understanding, and the two friends strode for the shrine.

As he walked- Gale thought of Thazienne, of Tha-malon and Stormweather, of the warped Night Knives, the uncountable dead inadvertently caught in this demonic nightmare. He gripped his blade and the mask tightly. A reckoning was finally at hand. He jerked open the shrine doors.

Burned pews and charred ghoul corpses lay scattered about the room, the aftereffect of the magical globe Gale had exploded in the shrine two days earlier. The rest of the room remained intact, and Yrsillar, now in the form of the Righteous Man, stood in the center aisle halfway between the shrine doors and the altar to Mask. A gate swirled behind him, the doorway through which he had transported himself back.

Having seen the awful majesty of the demon lord in his true form, Gale could hardly conceive how the guildmaster's body contained such a being.

As though in answer to his thought, a distortion began to take shape around the Righteous Man's slight frame. Flickering tongues of nothingness danced around the Righteous Man's body that obscured his human form and suggested the awful magnificence of Yrsillar's true shape. To Gale, the Righteous Man's body seemed ready to burst at the seams, to vomit forth the truth of Yrsillar's being from the lie of the guildmaster's form.

"Gome, then," the demon hissed.

Without hesitation, Jak jerked free two throwing daggers. Silvery blurs in the torchlight, they sliced through t?e air for Yrsillar's throat.

Casually, Yrsillar sidestepped the first blade, then shot forth a thin arm to snatch the second dagger out of midair. Quick as a striking snake, he hurled the blade back at them.

It streaked past Gale's ear before he could move, missing by sheer luck, and sunk all the way to the hilt in the wood of the doorjamb.

"Dark," Jak breathed.

Gale nodded agreement but said nothing. The strength behind that throw had been superhuman, demonic. That meant that the frailties of the Righteous Man's body did not limit Yrsillar in this human-demon form. The realization alarmed him because it meant Yrsillar would not be as weak as they had hoped. It also exhilarated him because it perhaps meant that the demon lord could be killed, not simply transported back to the Abyss;:; v; ' i:^:;•::,: He had no more time to ponder, Yrsillar advanced, strode boldly for them, the limp of the Righteous Man no longer in evidence. The distortion about his body became increasingly defined as he neared. The terrible form of Yrsillar expanded with each step and dwarfed the human body that struggled to contain it.

"Your death will be long, Champion of a paltry power, long and painful."

Gate and Jak spread as far apart as the aisle per* mitted.

"Be careful," Gale said out of the side of his mouth.

"I'm always careful," Jak replied.

Yrsillar ignored Jak and headed directly for Gale. He bore no weapons.

Gale backed off, drawing him in, blade held defensively before him. "Come on," he breathed. "Come on."

From behind Yrsillar, Jak rose up and charged, short sword aimed straight for the creature's back.

Yrsillar whirled halfway around, sidestepped Jak's stab, and backhanded the little man's jaw. Blood and spit flew from Jak's mouth.

"Unngh." Jak flipped head over heels from the force of the blow and crumbled to the shrine floor.

Cale lunged forward and stabbed Yrsillar through the abdomen. He drove the long sword through the distortion and all the way into the Righteous Man's thin body until the tip of the blade burst out the other side his ribs. Blood poured from the wound.

"Arrrgh!" Yrsillar sagged. The demonic distortion faded, shrank back into the body of the Righteous Man. Cale grimaced and twisted the blade. He felt the metal shear at the demon's organs, gave his anger free play.

"That's for the Uskevren, ecthain," he hissed into the wrinkled face of the Righteous Man.

It was Yrsillar's voice that groaned with pain. The demon still had possession of the Righteous Man. Cale drove the blade in farther, pushing the body of the Righteous Man across the aisle.

Yrsillar spat blood and grimaced in pain.

Cale smiled grimly, satisfied and victorious. This was over.

Even as that thought crossed his mind, the body of the Righteous Man suddenly jerked up straight. The voids of Yrsillar's eyes regained their focus and their glare sent a shiver up Gale's spine. The demon lord's grimace of pain twisted into a mirthful leer. He closed a hand around Gale's wrist and began to squeeze.

"Not so easy, Champion."

Though the distortion no longer played about the

Righteous Man's form, the old man's slight body nevertheless exhibited the terrible strength of the demon lord.

Desperate, Cale maniacally jerked the long sword around and opened a hole in the Righteous Man's flesh. Yrsillar laughed into Cale's face and squeezed.

"Ahhh!" His wrist snapped. Still Yrsillar squeezed.

"Ahhhhh!" Bone grated against bone like grinding millstones. Dizzy, he thought he would pass out from the pain.

Unable to stop himself, he released the hilt of his blade. Yrsillar still gripped his wrist.

With all his strength, Cale balled his free hand into a fist-a fist that enclosed the felt mask-and punched Yrsillar in the face. Again and again he struck powerful blows that broke the Righteous Man's nose and split his lips.

With blood streaming down his battered face, Yrsillar only laughed. He lifted Cale by the wrist and shook him in the air like a child's doll. Cale screamed in agony.

Disdainfully, Yrsillar flung him aside. Cale flew through the air and crashed amongst the pews and charred ghoul corpses. Wracked with pain, he righted himself and looked up to see Yrsillar looming over him. Cale had no weapon. He crawled crabwise over the ghoul corpses, cradling his broken wrist.

"I told you that you cannot escape me," Yrsillar taunted, and spoke a word of magic. Five glowing bolts of energy streaked from the demon's extended fingers and slammed sizzling into Cale's chest.

The impact knocked him flat on his back. His chest was on fire. His breath left him. He rolled over onto his stomach and tried to crawl away. Yrsillar followed him. Cale could feel him, could feel the empty holes of the demon's eyes burning into his back.

"And you thought to challenge me! You and your ridiculous god." He laughed evilly. "I have eaten more souls than you have lived days, Erevis Gale.

Then with another magical word, another wave of energy seared Gale's back.

His vision went blurry. He struggled to stay conscious. Desperate, he clutched the felt mask in his spasming fist. Its soft touch brought him a moment of clarity.