The Great Bazaar and Brayan’s Gold Read Free Page B

light of the wards.
    But Arlen wasn’t safe yet. The clay demons surged at him in a wave, dozens of them charging the circle. The wards flared as the demons tried to cross the line, stopping them short, but the clay demons were not hurled back as they should be. Magic shocked through their snub bodies and they howled in pain, but still they dug their claws into the clay and inched forward against the press. Arlen moved around the circle, kicking them back from the net, but it was an impossible task to maintain for long, and it was still early in the night. Sooner or later, the clay demons would get through. Dawn Runner knew it too, the beast struggling hard against the ropes.
    But then a roar sounded that dwarfed even the cacophony of the clay demons, and One Arm bounded into the courtyard. The rock demon was fifteen feet tall from horn to toe, covered in a thick black carapace that could not be harmed by anything short of the most potent wards.
    Jealous as ever, the giant coreling swept the clay demons aside with its good arm like a man might sweep autumn leaves, clearing a path to Arlen’s circle. It roared at any clay demon foolish enough to draw close, killing more than a few of its smaller cousins before they took the message to heart.
    Arlen had crippled One Arm in their first encounter, almost ten years gone. Little more than a boy at the time, he had severed the behemoth’s limb more by accident than design, but One Arm was immortal, and as incapable of forgetting as it was of forgiveness.
    Every night, One Arm rose in the place it had last seen Arlen, and followed his trail. No matter how many rivers Arlen swam or trees he climbed, the great demon always caught up to him in a matter of hours, running more swiftly than any horse. Tireless, thirstless, its only thoughts were of vengeance.
    The rock demon hammered at Arlen’s wards, illuminating the entire river bowl with magic as it attempted to take its revenge, but Arlen knew his rock wards well, and there was little chance that One Arm would succeed. Still, as he sat back, staring up at the enraged creature, he felt no comfort at the unexpected rescue from the clay demons. He knew that sooner or later, the mighty rock demon would catch him on the wrong side of the wards, and then he would likely wish the clay demons had gotten him.
    But for now, he flung the demon an obscene gesture, and dug into Dawn Runner’s saddlebags for his spare herb pouch and bandages.
    He had become quite good at stitching up his own skin.
    * * * * *
    Just before dawn, as the sky began to lighten, Arlen was startled awake by frantic shrieking. A light sleeper by necessity, he leapt up, shaking off slumber like a blanket. One Arm had already sunk back down into the Core, as had all the wind and clay demons save one.
    The coreling trapped in Arlen’s main circle smashed hard against the wardnet, clawing at the web of magic, but it was unable to pass. The wards might not be wholly attuned to clay demons, but when a coreling was surrounded on all sides by a complete circuit, the net’s power was increased manifold.
    The horizon brightened further, and Arlen watched the demon’s last moments of existence with great interest. In the growing light, the creature looked a little like an armadillo, with segmented plates of orange armor along its back and powerful stub legs covered in thick, sharp scales and ending in hooked claws. Its blunt head was shaped like a cylinder, able to butt with tremendous force, which it demonstrated repeatedly as it smashed vainly against magic walls of its prison.
    Rays of light began to reach the dry riverbed, and the coreling screamed in pain, though the canyon walls still kept it in shadow. It wouldn’t be long.
    In desperation, the demon became insubstantial, disintegrating into an orange mist that filled the circle. But even its dematerialized form was unable to escape. There was no path to the Core in the clay floor inside the wardnet, and it flowed