CHAPTER TEN

Titus balanced himself against his desk, waiting for the pain to pass. It was similar to what he had felt earlier yet more intense. Somewhere in New York, the Nimrod stirred.

When he had made his pact with Belthon, Titus was promised that all his suffering would come to an end. The fire exploding within his chest was a definite indication that someone wasn’t keeping up his end of the bargain. When the pain finally passed, two things happened. Titus was able to stand up straight, and Flag released the breath he had been holding.

“My lord,” Flag called in almost a whisper.

“A moment.” Titus rolled his broad shoulder to ease the tension. When he looked at Flag, his eyes were glassy, as if in either extreme ecstasy or pain. “Speak,” he ordered.

“We have word in from New York,” Flag said, tensing up.

“The Nimrod?”

“Yes, Lord Titus. Riel encountered the trident, but there was a problem retrieving it. He—”

“Hold your tongue.” Titus waved him silent. “You know I’d rather receive bad news firsthand.”

Flag bowed, thankful that he wouldn’t be punished for delivering the news. “Of course, my lord. I’ll ready the mirror.” Flag moved to stand in front of the silver-framed mirror, which stood just a hair over five feet and was mounted against the wall in Titus’ office. Whispering an incantation, Flag waved his hand across the mirror, which filled with smoke. When the smoke cleared, a distorted image of Riel stood in the reflection.

“And what news does my most efficient captain bring this night?” Titus asked, as if he already knew the answer.

Riel didn’t answer right away. There was no doubt in his mind that his master would not like the news he was about to receive, and Riel had become quite fond of his host’s body. Though New York was hundreds of miles away, distance mattered little when dealing with magic. Though the looking-glass spell couldn’t be used for travel, it still made Riel accessible to a point.

“Lord Titus, favorite son of Belthon, I humbly greet—,” Riel began but was cut off by a dismissive gesture.

“Riel, please skip the formalities and get to the point.” While Titus’ voice was neutral, there was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“As you wish.” Riel swallowed. “This evening I did battle with a Knight who wielded the Trident of Heaven.”

“Seeing that you’re alive, I would assume that you have recovered it for the dark father?” Titus asked.

Riel cast his eyes to the ground. “No, the Stalkers were destroyed and I barely managed to escape with my host’s body intact.”

Without warning Titus’ hand shot out at the mirror. When it made contact with the surface there was no breaking glass but the low thud of something being dropped into place. Gnarled hands clutched Riel about the throat while blackened nails bit deep into his borrowed flesh. He could feel the skin blister as Titus threatened to incinerate him.

“The Old Ones call you King Maker, but I call you a failure!” Titus’ eyes blazed, as well as his hands. “For centuries we have searched for the remaining weapons of the cursed Knights, and you manage to lose the most powerful of them to an offshoot of a bygone era. Riel, you as well as all who follow the Dark Order know the price of failure.”

Riel was one of the most feared and powerful demons in the history of the world, but his efforts to break Titus’ hold were useless. The looking glass’s main function was communication, but the most skilled at using the object, or the spell where its abilities derived from, could send or receive items through the glass, as Titus was showing Riel. Being that the glass’s transmissions were channeled across the demon plain, it allowed Titus to call on his demon form without the normal restrictions of the mortal realm. Titus was powerful in the mortal realm, but on the plains he had the power of Belthon himself at his call.

Riel gasped. He was quietly still trying to call his powers against Titus, but he had not the strength. Figuring he’d never overpower Titus, Riel tried diplomacy. “He called the Storm!” he croaked.

Titus loosened his grip. “Impossible. Petty lies will not undo your fate.”

“It is the truth,” Riel insisted. “Storm clouds danced in his eyes, master, as he slew an entire troop of Stalkers. I swear to it, Lord Titus; the Bishop himself spoke to me through the boy!”

Releasing Riel completely, Titus withdrew his hands from the mirror. They had taken back their normal forms, but the skin around the knuckles was a bit scorched. He studied Riel, measuring his words. “Tell me about this, offshoot,” Titus demanded.

Riel went on to recount the tale of the bookish young man he had clashed with earlier that night and the light that had threatened to send him to the same black place the Stalkers had gone. Of course he added his own twist and omitted the part about his calling Shadow’s Cloak to escape.

Titus doubted most of what Riel said had happened. Demons were excellent liars by nature. What Titus did know to be true was that the Nimrod has been awakened and with it the soul of the cursed Bishop. The reoccurring throbbing in Titus’ chest confirmed that. In the recesses of his mind he could’ve sworn he heard the Bishop laughing at him. But even with the Nimrod active and the Bishop’s soul stirring, the power was incomplete. Only with a willing and capable host could the Bishop cross the plains. There was still a chance that they could capture it, unless Riel spoke the truth and the fabled Nimrod had chosen. As unlikely as it might’ve sounded, Titus couldn’t deny feeling the power of the relic coursing through him.

Over the last few centuries the Nimrod had mostly remained dormant. It had passed through several hands, with most people mistaking it for just what it looked like, a broken fork. There was one instance when it had flared to life briefly, but before going back to sleep it ended up consuming the poor soul who had happened across it. If the trident had chosen a master, it could mean the beginning of another war. If they were on the threshold of another seven-day siege, then Titus knew he would need his most valued demon warriors at his side.

“Riel, you have served the order faithfully for centuries, and proven yourself to be more of an asset than a liability. It is for this reason alone that I do not cast you back into the fire to answer to Belthon,” Titus told him.

“Thank you, my lord,” Riel said, almost groveling.

“I don’t need your thanks, worm. I need results. I don’t care if you have to raise an entire cemetery to slay the boy and capture the trident, I want it!”

“Your will be done,” Riel said as his image faded from the looking glass.

“Incompetent,” Flag mumbled. Titus looked at him as if just realizing Flag was in the room. “Not you, Lord Titus. I was speaking of Riel,” Flag quickly explained.

“Flag, Riel has been shedding blood, human and demon, for longer than you or I have been alive. Though he failed to capture the Nimrod, he has just taught us two very important lessons.” Seeing the confused look on Flag’s face, Titus explained, “The first is the fact that the Nimrod is very much alive. The second is never underestimate an opponent. Riel thought because it was humans he was seeking that they would be weak, but magic can turn even the most timid sheep into a fierce lion. This mortal must be found and the Nimrod captured before the Bishop gains a foothold in this world.” There was no mistaking the nervousness in Titus’ voice.

“Should we inform Belthon?” Flag asked, praying Titus would say no. Flag’s master was a beast of a man, but the demon lord made him seem like a pussycat. Though the mage had been working closely with the Dark Order since he was a child, the more powerful entities always made him uneasy, even if they weren’t full demons.

“Not yet. I can’t see that a lone mortal is more powerful than the forces of hell, trident or not. We must formulate a plan, but first we will need answers. We’ll see what Leah says of this.”

“Sir, do you really think consulting her is necessary?” Flag stopped. His face suddenly wore a worried expression.

“Flag, surely you haven’t become that prejudiced that you can’t stand the company of a sprite?” There was a mocking tone to Titus’ voice.

“Leah is more than just a sprite,” Flag grumbled.

“Indeed, she is the answer to our questions. Attend me, mage; there are plans to be laid,” Titus ordered, leaving his office.