Paul Kemp: Shadowstorm

But the pain stirs me to motion; the bravery of my friends draws me back to myself. I quell the fiend within me, lick my lips, and try to climb to my feet. I will not die on my knees. I will stand with my friends.

They see me stir, turn, and pull me the rest of the way to my feet.

"Godsdamned right," Riven says, and gives me a thump on the shoulder. "Godsdamned right."

Cale knew they had a twenty count, no more, and there was nowhere to run. He held Weaveshear in a numb hand and blew out clouds of frozen breath. He whispered a series of rapid prayers, invoking magic that made him stronger and faster.

Looking upon the archfiend, he did not think it would be enough.

Magadon spoke in a low tone, his voice hollow. "This is my doing. I planted this location in Erevis's mind as he moved us between planes. Or part of me did. I am sorry."

Riven spared Magadon a hard look but said nothing.

"It wasn't you, Mags," Cale said, and meant it.

Riven shifted on his feet.

"I am sorry, Riven," Magadon said to him.

Riven drew a dagger from his belt, flipped it, and offered the hilt to Magadon.

"It's enchanted. Take it. It is better than nothing."

Magadon did not take the dagger. He looked at Riven, at Cale.

"We cannot fight him and live."

"Which doesn't mean we don't fight," Riven snapped. "I don't go down without giving what I've got. And neither should you." He held the dagger's hilt before Magadon's face. "Take it."

"I have a weapon if I have need," Magadon said, but took the dagger anyway.

Cale said, "If we cannot fight, then we have to negotiate. What can we offer him, Mags?"

Mephistopheles vanished from the sky and reappeared directly behind them. His form dwarfed them. His wings enveloped them. The unholy energy that sheathed the trio stole their breath. One of Mephistopheles's enormous hands closed over Cale's shoulder, and the claws sank into his skin. He bent and put his mouth to Cale's ear.

"There is nothing you can offer me that I cannot otherwise take," the archdevil said, and the sound of his basso voice buried them all under its power. His fetid breath stank like a charnel house.

Supernatural terror accompanied the archdevil's presence but Cale fought through it. He remembered that he had faced his own god, stabbed Mask in the chest.

"But this is no alley," Mephistopheles whispered into Cale's ear. "And I am not your god."

Shadows leaked from Cale's skin, twined around Mephistopheles's hand.

"No," Cale answered. "You are not."

Moving deliberately and forcefully, Cale took the archdevil's hand, removed it from his shoulder, and turned to stand in the towering shadow of a ruler of Hell. Riven and Magadon, perhaps freed of their terror by Cale's nerve, did the same. Riven and Cale edged before Magadon and closed ranks.

The fiend radiated spite. It took all Cale had to stand his ground.

Mephistopheles's white eyes bored holes into him. The archdevil inhaled deeply.

"You stink of goddess and godling, shade. Where is the Shadowlord now, I wonder? Do you imagine that he will save you?"

Cale decided then and there that he was of one mind with Riven-he would not die without giving what he had. He tightened his grip on Weaveshear and shadowy tendrils leaked from the blade.

"Save me from what?"

"Nothing here we need saving from," Riven added. The assassin, who looked small standing beside Cale, looked insignificant standing before the archdevil.

Mephistopheles's eyes narrowed, moved from Cale to Riven.

The devil poked the tip of a black-nailed, ringed finger into Riven's chest.

"You are transparent to me," he said.

"I am easy that way," Riven said with a sneer.

Mephistopheles's lip curled and he scraped his claw down Riven's chest, hard enough to rock the assassin on his feet, penetrate armor, and draw blood.

"I think that you could have been one of mine," the archdevil said.

Blood from the gash in Riven's chest darkened his shirt and cloak, but the assassin did not wince, though a tic caused his one good eye to spasm.

Cale placed the edge of Weaveshear's blade under the archdevil's finger and lifted it away from Riven.

"That is enough."

Mephistopheles put a fingertip on the blade and black fire twined around the steel. Cale held onto the hilt and darkness snaked from his hands.

Shadows met fire, churned and sizzled.

The fire flared, consumed the shadows, and Weaveshear flashed red hot. Cale's skin blistered. He cursed and released the weapon.

Mephistopheles snatched it from mid air and held the superheated blade without harm. He studied it, smelled it. Cale and Riven shared a glance. Both knew they were out of their depth.

Mephistopheles smirked, dropped the weapon. It hit the ice of Cania tip first, sank half its length into the ground, and sent up a cloud of hissing steam as it cooled.

"A mildly interesting toy," the archdevil said.

Cale kept his face expressionless as he retrieved the weapon, still warm, from the ice.

Magadon cleared his throat and said in a small voice, "We are leaving Cania, father."

Mephistopheles's brow furrowed and he looked down on Magadon, as if for the first time.

"Did something speak? I hear a voice but see nothing here worthy of addressing me."

"We are leaving," Magadon reiterated.

"Ah," Mephistopheles said, glaring at Magadon, who wilted under the scrutiny. "It is my ungrateful son who dares utter words in my presence. And leaving, you say? But you have only just arrived. And it was you who brought them here."

"No," Magadon said. "It was you."

"You perceive a difference where there is none."

Magadon looked up with defiance in his eyes. Cale was pleased to see it.

"You lie," Magadon said, his voice strong at last. "There is a difference."

Mephistopheles's eyes flashed anger. "Think you so?"

Sensing the danger, Cale edged closer to Magadon.

The archdevil turned on him, growing to twice his height in a breath.

"He is spoken for, shade, body and soul!"

The power in Mephistopheles's voice caused ice to crack, the damned to whimper in fear, and drove Cale back, knocking him breathless to the frozen ground.

Riven lunged forward, one blade low, one high. The archdevil held up a hand and a rush of black power from his palm drove Riven flat on his back and skittering across the ice.

Magadon stood alone before his father.

Mephistopheles recovered his composure and shrank back into himself. His expression went from enraged to calm in a heartbeat.

"I am not yours," Magadon said.

"You are mistaken," Mephistopheles responded. "We have dreamed wonderful dreams together, you and me."

Magadon shook his head and looked down at his feet. "No. They weren't mine. They never were. You put them there."

Mephistopheles reached down and placed a giant hand on Magadon's emaciated shoulder. The mindmage blanched at the touch-smoke rose from his flesh.

"How could I do so if you did not invite them?"

Shadows swirled around Cale, comforting him, healing him. He climbed to his feet and pointed Weaveshear at the archdevil.

"He is spoken for, devil. But not by you."

"Truth," Riven added, as he, too, rose.

Mephistopheles looked from Magadon to Cale and his lips formed a hard line. The dark fire around him flared. He beat his decayed wings and the wind of Cania answered with gusts. The cold cut through Cale's protective spell. The archdevil's voice was as gelid as the plain.

"All here is mine, shade, even the shadows. You will never leave here. Your lot is to be punished. I will flay your souls and the screaming tatters that remain will be playthings for my gelugons."

Cale did not bother to deny the archdevil's claim. He instead said, "We will hurt you first. I promise you that."