Amkir emerged from the passage and headed straight for Idris and the support diagram. Fuck! I knew Idris had a strong pattern, but I wasn’t sure how well it would hold up if Amkir decided to truly attack it. In the sky and on the ground, demons battled. I knew that ours were sorely outnumbered, but at least for now they seemed to be holding their own. I hated that I couldn’t spare any energy to try and help them, and could only hope that they would handle themselves and that none would get hurt.

Rhyzkahl’s face revealed fury, certainty, and triumph as he brought his fully ignited blade in front of him and cast a heavy strike at Mzatal. In the split second before it reached him, Mzatal called Khatur to hand and lifted it high. The blade summoned the strike like an umbrella lightning rod, the rakkuhr channeling into it, and the residuals shedding off like rain. With his other hand, Mzatal shot forth a very sneaky left-handed strike, catching Rhyzkahl fully in the chest.

Rhyzkahl staggered back from the unexpected assault, shaking his head to clear it. Jesral strode forward two paces and sent a shimmering net of potency toward Mzatal. With practiced ease, Mzatal deflected the net, then moved in sweeping strides to fully engage in a perilous dance with both Jesral and Rhyzkahl.

On the other side of the courtyard I sensed Amkir moving closer to Idris and his diagram. The lord made a motion to strip the outer perimeter, but the well-constructed pattern thwarted his efforts. Amkir snarled, gaze traveling over the support diagram, the ritual, and then to Mzatal. Anger swept over his face as he realized that all were tied together. It had been a brilliant move on our part to link the diagrams and support together when we’d assumed that at most we’d be facing one lord. But now I worried. Four lords was an entirely different story. Mzatal currently handled Jesral and Rhyzkahl masterfully, especially with the support from Idris and his ability to draw on the grove power through me.

What the hell was Vahl doing? He hung back near the palace wall, a good thirty feet or so from either Rhyzkahl or Amkir. But Amkir, unopposed, had all the time in the world to pick apart Idris’s circle, and he did so now, prowling around its perimeter, unweaving a strand at a time.

I cursed under my breath and tried to channel power toward Idris and his diagram so that he could reinforce his defenses, but I wasn’t sure it was working. I watched Amkir warily and nurtured the connection with Mzatal. Amkir’s eyes were on Idris, dark and intense as he sent spikes of disruptive energy toward him.

“Dispel your perimeter, little summoner,” Amkir said with a sneer. “And this will not hurt nearly as much.”

Idris merely scowled, continuing to maintain the perimeter and tend the support core. His scowl seemed weirdly familiar, but I couldn’t spare the focus to try to place it. I finished the ring of sigils and locked it down before igniting it. One more. The blade blazed clearly in othersight. Tears stung my eyes, surprising me with their onset and the sense of kinship that accompanied them. Vsuhl. Once you are in my hand, all of this will be over.

My entire circle wavered abruptly, as if in a brownout, and I hesitated in the preparations for the final ring. Mzatal still held his own against the two lords, but now Idris was deeply involved with fending off Amkir. Idris shot a quick look at me, most certainly noting that I’d set the second-to-last ring.

Amkir sent a spike through the perimeter, and Idris staggered. Then, before I could say or do anything, Idris abruptly unwound a sigil and severed the connection between my diagram and the support core.

I stared at him in shock. There was no way for me to finish the final ring without that support. But then I realized what he’d done. By severing the connection, he was protecting me and my diagram. If Idris lost control of the support core while I worked the final ring, it could jeopardize the entire ritual and would open me up to attack.

That means he knows he can’t hold it, I thought in dismay. I struggled to think of something I could do, some way to help Idris, yet with the connection severed I could do nothing with the arcane. I extended through to the master ritual on the beach, felt its power, but I didn’t have the skill to draw upon it. I touched the grove energy, but it flowed through and down into the patterns, feeding the ritual, feeding Mzatal.

Amkir sent another spike through the breach he’d created. Idris went to his knees, then tipped forward, barely getting his hands in front of himself in time to keep from fully collapsing. Blood dripped from his nose and mouth onto the ground beneath the patterns, sending shudders of distortion through the entire diagram. In a heart-wrenching effort he sought to stand and regain the unraveling patterns, but the strands of both the support core and ritual slipped away.

I sucked in a breath as his circle fractured completely. Idris had severed the connection just in time, but was now completely and utterly vulnerable. Having Vsuhl in hand would kick all the ass but—although I could feel the blade so close, so present—I couldn’t finish the damned ritual without Idris’s support. I had to do something. No way was I just going to stand there and let Idris get smeared by that fucking asshole.

Amkir had his back to me, between Idris’s circle and the full ritual, and I made a quick decision. After making certain that the completed rings were stable and that the entire diagram was keyed only to me, I called grove power and tapped the connection with Mzatal. I’d never tried anything like this before, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like that stop me. All I needed was a burst. I slid out of my ritual and ran for Amkir.

The lord meticulously ripped through the circles of the diagram now that Idris could no longer hold them inviolate. He lifted a hand, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before he called deadly potency down on Idris.

With everything I had, I pushed a barb of power before me. Lowering my head, I slammed into Amkir as hard as I could, tackling him to the ground. He let out a surprised oof, and in that moment of advantage, I grabbed his shoulder and turned him over. I came down hard with my knee on his groin, and at the same time punched him hard in the face—backing it all with grove power. Then I slugged him again just to be sure. “I got your chikdah right here, motherfucker!” In that moment, even with pain flickering in his eyes and his precious lord-blood flowing from his nose, he looked more shocked than anything. It’d been a gamble that he didn’t have any physical shielding active, but apparently an attack by a human was way down on his list of possibilities.

I rolled off dickwad before he could recover and hurried to Idris. “Come on. Let’s get your ass someplace you can hunker down.” A recess in the wall of the west wing looked like a damn good choice. It had probably housed a statue at some point, but stood empty now, perfect for tight defense. I hauled Idris up and put his arm over my shoulder while I gripped him around his waist.

He staggered along with me toward the recess. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings, and spat a congealing mass of blood. “Fuck. Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t be sorry,” I said. “You kicked ass.” I hurried with Idris toward the alcove. He looked gawky, but in reality he was a solid hunk of muscle and goddamn heavy. Shadows of many engaged demons flitted over us, a reminder of the conflict fought on a different level. A kehza trumpeted and careened through a high window ahead, shattering glass and crashing noisily into furnishings within. As we reached the wall, I glanced back in time to see Amkir getting to his feet. “Crap.”

Idris put his back to the wall of the recess, looked beyond me and saw Amkir. “Shit…shit! I need to re-lay the external aspect or you won’t be able to finish the final ring.” The worry in his face deepened. He seemed oblivious to the blood trickling from his nose and mouth. “And Mzatal. Shit. I lost his support. Not enough time to do a new one with asslord coming.”

I looked toward Mzatal. He was heavily involved, but still maintaining, at least for now. Yet without any support I didn’t know how long he’d be able to hold against both lords, and I had no idea what Vahl would do. Maybe, just maybe, Vahl was honoring something of their codes and not getting directly involved? Amkir moved toward us, head lowered and nose dripping blood, radiating a mega-potency that clearly said he wanted to squash me like a bug.

“Look, you have to survive this, first and foremost,” I told Idris. “I can support Mzatal. You do what you have to do to defend yourself here. Got it?”

“Survive.” He gave me a bloody smile and began to trace rapidly. “Yeah, good plan. Got it.”

I grinned. “Kick some ass, cuz. I’ll hold off Lord Asshole.” I didn’t have any idea if I could really do that, but I hoped that I could at least draw Amkir away from Idris. Taking off at a run, I angled away from the alcove and toward the pavilion, checking to make sure that the lord was focused on me and not Idris.

As I’d hoped, Amkir turned to follow my movement and started on an intercept path. I felt Mzatal take a heavy dual strike from the two other lords, falling back and nearly going down. He needed me back in the ritual so I could focus and maintain our connection. I ran hard for the diagram, but Amkir quickened his pace, and I knew there was no way for me to beat him there.

“Shit.” I skidded to a stop in a move like sliding into third base, pulling grove power into a shield thingy as I faced Amkir. My breath came raggedly as he approached. This was really going to suck ass.

Amkir raised his hand, blood still dripping from his nose, and murderous intent in his eyes. I tried to judge if I could make it around him, but there was no way. He advanced, and I backed. Behind him I saw Vahl skirting the perimeter of the pavilion, eyes on me. Great. From bad to worse. But I was damn glad now that I hadn’t fucked him after all.

Face contorted in fury, Amkir strode forward, breathing heavily. “Insolent cunt,” he snarled as he lifted a hand, coiling potency into his control.

I held the shield of power before me, trying to think of some sort of really witty comeback. “Oh, fuck off, you limp-dicked, piece-of-shit fuckstain,” I yelled. Hey, it wasn’t all that witty, but it would have to do.

His face went dark with rage as he cast the potency at me. I crouched in the utterly wild hope it would miss me. A shadow passed over, and everything exploded in motion as two reyza, locked in combat, crashed hard between Amkir and me, absorbing much of the strike in their own shielding. The rest struck them and seared past me, shattering the stone of the pathway behind and to my left. I swallowed hard. That wasn’t meant to take me down. It was meant to take me out.