The barrier must have been written in a different language. One like the Chthonic languages, that used logical spellings. His mind quickly distorted those languages with illogical spellings. That would mean that he could misspell the barrier only slowly.
But slowly was better than not at all. He pushed his hand into the barrier and felt his cacography begin to corrupt the prose.
Another roar rolled through the cavern.
Nicodemus looked back to see Typhon lunge forward and grab a sentinel by the robes. With a one-handed heave, the demon flung the man upward, crushing his head into the low ceiling.
On the cavern’s other side, a sentinel lifted a silver hammer-a tundern wand-and struck it against the ground. A subterranean lightning bolt flew out of the artifact and erupted beneath Typhon’s feet into a spray of jagged Magnus sentences and rock fragments.
But neither words nor stone pierced the demon’s obsidian skin. With a backhanded lash, Typhon cast a blade of red light that flew across the cavern and cut the tundern wielder in two.
The surviving sentinels, Magistra Okeke at their front, were retreating into the tunnel.
Nicodemus turned to the textual barrier before him. It continued to shift under his hands but felt no weaker. This was taking too long. He’d never break through in time.
“Nicodemus,” Typhon bellowed behind him. “We must get you away from here. These humans will kill you. I’ve been imprisoned for too long, and too much of my soul is locked into Deirdre. I’m not strong enough to kill them all at once.”
The five sentinels had fallen far back into the tunnel. Typhon raised a massive hand and struck the tunnel floor. A burst of glowing red streamers erupted from the demon’s fist and then blasted down. The cavern trembled as part of the Spindle’s floor fell into blackness.
With cries of shock, the sentinels ran deeper into the tunnel. Typhon cast an unseen spell that knocked free another bit of the floor. Through the growing hole Nicodemus could see the moonlit forest far below.
A sentinel who had not retreated fast enough shouted as the stones beneath him gave way. There was a silver flash as he tried to textually stop his fall-then nothing.
Typhon roared.
Nicodemus’s head felt light. His lips were numb. He couldn’t deconstruct the barrier fast enough.
One of the sentinels threw a Numinous spell that exploded against Typhon’s shoulder. The flash briefly illuminated Shannon ’s unmoving form. “Magister!” Nicodemus exclaimed. He could not leave Shannon behind.
But how to retrieve the old man? Without the emerald he stood no chance of injuring the demon. If only he had time to write out a subtext to hide himself, he could…
“Fiery blood!” he swore and pulled back the sleeves of his robes. “Of course.” He began to pinch the Chthonic sentences tattooed on his right hand.
At first the sentences were recalcitrant and kept inscribing themselves back into his skin. But with a fury of yanking, he managed to disengage the spell.
The Chthonic ghost had warned him that Wrixlan and Pithan sentences would score his skin. But even so, Nicodemus was shocked by the searing agony that consumed his arms as the sentences unwound.
Once free of his arm, the purple language spun itself into Garkex, the firetroll.
Previously the construct had been no bigger than a child. Now the three-horned spell stood six feet tall and possessed arms so muscular they bulged like flour sacks stuffed with river stones.
Initially Garkex wore a grumpy why-did-you-wake-me expression, but the instant the troll’s eyes fell upon Typhon they bulged with fear. With a snort, the construct scooped up Nicodemus and began to tear the other Wrixlan constructs from his skin.
Every inch of Nicodemus’s arms and forearms burned with pain as the purple prose was ripped from him. He fought the urge to cry out as Garkex rolled him over and over and peeled off more fantasies.
After what felt like an infinity of agony, the troll set Nicodemus down.
All of the night terrors now stood around them: Fael the lycanthrope, Tamelkan the eyeless dragon, Uro the nightmare insect, and many others. Because the constructs had absorbed some of Nicodemus’s strength by storing themselves on his skin, each one had grown.
In the next instant the fantasies scooped up Nicodemus, placed him on Tamelkan’s back, and surrounded him with their concealing dark blue skin.
Typhon tossed a last spell at the sentinels. The Spindle had not fallen, but for fifty feet the tunnel’s bottom had been ripped out.
“Nicodemus, they are far enough back,” the demon called. “They can’t hurt you now. Nicodemus?” He had turned and was peering into the cavern.
“Magister Shannon,” Nicodemus whispered to Garkex. “The body there. We need to retrieve the body and escape.”
The troll nodded.
“Nicodemus, this is not the time to hide,” Typhon rumbled. “Wizards are finicky authors.” The demon began searching the cavern’s northern edge.
The huddle of night terrors-Nicodemus suspended in the middle-crept away in the opposite direction.
“The wizards believe in a false prophecy and think you are the Petrel,” Typhon said. “They’ll censor and kill you.”
The pack of invisible monsters approached Deirdre. Most of her body was still frozen, but she had managed to drop her sword. Her head hung forward and her chest heaved.
A sudden volley of Magnus spells filled the cave and smashed against Typhon’s side. The sentinels hadn’t given up. Roaring furiously, the demon ran to the cavern’s mouth to return the attack.
Seizing the chance, Garkex darted out to grab Shannon and slung the old man over his shoulder. With the troll gone, Nicodemus’s left shoulder had become visible. Typhon was still preoccupied by the sentinels, but Deirdre-standing not five feet away-turned her eyes on him.
Panic flashed hot in Nicodemus’s mind. How complete was Typhon’s control over her? For a moment he considered attacking her to keep her from raising the alarm. But the idea died almost as soon as it formed. Instead he pleaded with his eyes and brought a finger up to his lips. Garkex returned with Shannon and plopped the old man onto Tamelkan’s back.
Slowly Deirdre’s chest filled with air as if she might scream.
Nicodemus shook his head vehemently.
Her chest contracted. “Please,” she croaked, “kill me.”
“PLEASE,” DEIRDRE WHISPERED. “I hold most of his soul.”
Nicodemus felt his blood go cold. “I can’t-”
“You must,” she hissed. “If I die, so will he.”
The cavern shook again with Typhon’s roar. A red glow grew around the demon and then flashed. All was silent for a moment and then a distant sentinel screamed.
“Nicodemus,” Typhon called in an anxious voice. “More wizards will come soon.” The demon had turned around and was striding into the cavern. “We must…” his voice died as he looked down to where Shannon had once lain. “The old one,” he rumbled.
“Please!” Deirdre whispered.
Suddenly Nicodemus had to look away from an intense white blaze. It was Typhon. The demon had held up his right hand to cast a spell that shed pure physical light. It glared brighter than sunshine.
All around Nicodemus the constructs screamed. Physical light deconstructed Wrixlan and Pithan, and each of the night terrors was written in purple prose.
Typhon turned toward Nicodemus. In the piercing blaze, the night terrors had become visible. The demon’s all-white eyes opened wide.
Realizing that they could hide no longer, Garkex spouted flame from his horns and charged Typhon.
The other night terrors followed, shrieking out a caterwauling war cry.
Nicodemus grabbed hold of Shannon, just barely pulling the old man off Tamelkan before the eyeless dragon charged into battle.
Typhon meet Garkex with a blast of red light that deconstructed the construct’s left arm. But with a brutal right-handed slash, the troll raked his claws across Typhon’s cheek and knocked the demon’s head to one side. The rest of the nightmares rushed forward in a tide of scales, tentacles, and talons. They bowled into the demon and knocked him onto his back.