But the most tempting of targets was, of course, the person made entirely of bones, a walking, talking chew toy. Three of the hellhounds closed in on Bones, biting on his various limbs, slavering and snarling as they fought over his body. The Heirloom played a discordant tune as Bones unsuccessfully held on for dear life. The portal wavered.
“Ow!” Bones yelled. “My everything!”
But another sound filled the air, adding another layer to the cacophonous orchestra, so dissonant and chaotic now that the demons had to simultaneously defend themselves. The loud thunder of the horn blast sounded like none of their instruments.
Augustin Arcosa strode into view, a twisting black horn pressed to his lips. It was the gift from the Mothergoat. Braiden strained to concentrate on his spell as the sound shook the air.
A golden sphere of light appeared in the air before them, a black line splitting the middle: the Mothergoat’s eye. Out of theblack slit emerged an othergoat, and then another, until a dozen had tumbled out of the portal and onto the ground. They turned to Augustin as if in recognition, bleating and baaing in greeting. One of them — a familiar white pattern on its face — hopped up and down in place, already excited for what was to come.
“Say no more,” Augustin said, sweeping his arm forward and conjuring a colossal gust of wind.
The othergoats bleated in delight as they scattered like lawn bowls, each somehow soaring toward a different hellhound. Again the flames didn’t harm the creatures, but the impact and tremendous explosions certainly did. The hellhounds yowled, beaten back by the othergoat bombardment. One by one, bathed in globes of golden light, the othergoats disappeared home to Yhip Valley.
The three hellhounds fighting over Bones went yipping away with their tails between their legs. Muttering to himself in annoyance, Bones shook off the saliva still clinging to his body, then went back to strumming the Heirloom.
Seeing Augustin’s precise control over his abilities was all the inspiration Braiden needed. With a final weave into the Heirloom, he strummed his fingers along the strings, sending out a torrent of threads to ensnare each of the hellhounds. His jaw dropped at the display of magic, knowing he could never have achieved this without the Heirloom’s amplification.
The hellhounds howled as one. Braiden could feel them tugging against the Heirloom’s restraints — but more than that, he could feel a tugging in the air, as if the combined howls were pulling something else through the portal.
Two somethings, in fact. Braiden stared agog at the top of the archway, finally understanding why the demons had built it so tall. Bowing their heads so they could pass through were two enormous hellhounds the size of buildings. Each could almost certainly devour Braiden or any of his friends in a single gulp.Together they howled in answer to their children. The ground trembled.
“It’s the parents!” Ophidia shouted from above. “Fido and Jemima!”
The utterly mundane names gave Braiden enough pause for thought. Would these creatures recognize their former masters?
“Newt!” Braiden shouted. “Would these hellhounds obey you if they remembered who you were?”
“Maybe?” Newt answered with a shrug. “Possibly?”
They watched as Valefour teleported straight into Fido’s path. The hellhound eyed him cautiously, then slammed a paw where he stood, leaving nothing but a smoking crater. Braiden exhaled in relief when he saw Valefour had teleported away again, winded and shaken, but still in one piece.
“They’re not going to remember so easily,” Warren said. “Not unless they get a good whiff of you. It’s part of how my people recognize even distant descendants. By smell.”
Newt strode forward, his hands balled into fists. “Or by taste.”
“What?” Elyssandra cried, incredulous. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Stringy,” Newt said. “Windbag. Make me a sail, then blow me up in the air, will you?”
Ignoring for the moment the fact that Bones had clearly taught Newt their unflattering nicknames, Braiden quickly stitched a square of cloth, unfurling it from the Heirloom. Newt had a point. His skin somehow seemed even more metallic, as if he wasn’t only the color of bronze, but made out of it, too.
Newt snatched the cloth out of the air, gripping its corners with his hands and his surprisingly prehensile feet. He gave Augustin a firm, determined nod. Augustin swept his hand from waist level and up over his head. A powerful spout of windcaught in Newt’s makeshift sail and sent him rocketing up into the air.
The imp left a trail of ululations that sounded both delighted and terrified. Fido and Jemima turned their heads, then tilted them, puzzled at the sight of the little shiny thing flying up into their faces. Then, in a single decisive snap, Jemima snatched Newt out of the air with her great jaws.
And then Jemima began to chew.
Screams of horror filled the air. Braiden’s stomach dropped. Had Newt truly sacrificed himself just to save everyone else?
But there it was, stuck between her teeth, gnashed over and over in every frustrated bite — it was Newt lying on his back, looking slightly bored, his bronze skin even shinier now that he was covered in a layer of hellhound saliva.
Jemima stopped suddenly, then with a great retch, spat Newt onto the ground. The imp landed there with a metallic thunk, like an anvil dropped out of the air. Fido bent his head to sniff at him, then extended his flaming tongue to lick Newt, bathing him in a flurry of doggie kisses.
Jemima joined him, both whining with the affection of pet dogs who hadn’t seen their loved ones in ages. Their litter stopped straining at the Heirloom’s leashes, tilting their heads and watching with canine curiosity as their parents treated Newt to a flurry of fiery licks.
Valefour approached gingerly, receiving the same treatment from the hellhound pair, laughing even as their tongues lapped at his entire suit of armor. Ophidia flew nearer, too, offering a tentative pat on Jemima’s head, sighing in relief when the hellhound leaned into her touch. Lucie joined in, laughing as she ran her fingers through the great beast’s fur.
Bones leapt up into the air and punched his fist at the ceiling.
