Free Demonbane (Book 4) by Ben Cassidy Page A

afraid, either. He bleeds just like the rest of us.” Mayer drew his weapon. The steel made a soft hiss as it left the scabbard. “We are on the eve of a great moment of history in Zanthora, my brothers. Have faith. The goddess rises.”
    “She rises,” they repeated in unison.
    Mayer looked down the hall behind them.
    The music, laughter, and conversation from the great hall continued merrily along. Neither the gunshots nor the disturbances in other parts of the house had yet rattled anyone’s nerves.
    Mayer shook his head. “Fools. Their time has come, and they don’t even realize it.”
    He turned back to his men. “Let’s go.”
     
    The snow pattered against the sides of the stable. There was a single lantern inside, hanging by one of the stalls. Its watery light cast deep shadows across the length of the room.
    Maklavir stumbled through the interior of the stables past stall after stall in a blind panic.
    He could hear the muffled crunch of the guards’ boots as they stepped through the snow outside.
    Maklavir dove into a stall, and backed himself up against the wall.
    A horse neighed nervously, stamping its feet at the unexpected intrusion.
    Think . He had to think.
    The herb bag. Joseph’s life was in the balance. He had to get it back to Kendril.
    Maklavir looked around desperately.
    There. Against the stall next to his. A brown bag. Maklavir recognized it immediately.
    He started to get up to grab it.
    The door to the stall kicked open, letting in a gust of cold air and stray snowflakes.
    Maklavir ducked back behind the stall.
    “I know you’re in here,” boomed a voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
    Maklavir felt his heart leap. He recognized the voice.
    It was the first guard, the one he had hit with the shield in the hallway back in the house, just minutes before.
    Something told Maklavir that the man was not coming back to thank him.
    The boards whined under the mercenary’s weight as he stepped into the stable. There was a sharp click as a gun was cocked.
    Maklavir glanced over at the bag again.
    So close, yet so far. There was no way he could reach it without leaving cover.
    Maklavir glanced around the corner of the stall.
    The first guard was already in the stable. The second guard was framed in the doorway behind him. Snow drifted in lazily over his shoulders.
    The guard turned, and waved back to the second mercenary.
    The man nodded, then disappeared from sight.
    Maklavir frowned, puzzled.
    Why weren’t they both coming in? It was almost as if they were—
    Covering a second door.
    Maklavir looked back down the row of stalls.
    There. How had he missed it before?  A back door.
    Right now, it was his only way out. And he had just seconds before the second guard blocked off any escape he might have.
    “Come on,” the first guard called out. “Make it easy on yourself. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
    Maklavir took a look at the bag, then the rear exit.
    “Cone to daddy,” the mercenary sang out.
    Maklavir leapt for the bag.
     
    “The goddess rises,” Lillette spat. She twisted and turned in Kendril’s firm grip. “She will destroy you and this city.”
    Kendril bent the young woman’s arm back even further.
    She gave a cry of pain.
    All traces of the sweet kitchen maid were gone. The hellcat that Kendril had pinned against the wall seemed like a wholly different creature.
    “What goddess?” Kendril snapped. “What cult are you with?”
    Lillette smiled despite the pain. She gave a mocking laugh. “You really don't know, do you? Indigoru will feast on your soul. Her light will fill all of Vorten, then all of Zanthora—”
    Kendril glanced nervously at the stairs leading up to the kitchen.
    Two servants started to come in, saw him, then shrieked and ran off.
    “Indigoru. Mystery religion. A pleasure cult,” Kendril snarled. “I should have known. How many of you are there? How many people in this house are with you?” He gave a savage twist of her arm. “