Khyert ran to him and knelt.

Down the street, a torch blew out.

Xau hauled Khyert upright. “Run!”

“No. I won’t leave you—”

“We command you.”

The wind flattened Xau’s hair.

“Go!”

But already a darkness strode toward them,

shaped like a man, but void of color;

a hole, a gap, a horror.

“Kneel to me,” said the demon,

“and I will protect you.”

His voice was the voice

of Xau’s favorite brother. Hearing him,

Xau was a yearning child again,

who had only to kneel,

a small thing,

a gesture.

He put one hand

on the rim of the fountain basin

to hold himself upright.

“Kneel to me,” said that voice,

familiar, loved. “Let me help you.”

Beyond Xau, Donal knelt.

Closer, right beside Xau, Khyert knelt too.

Xau put his other hand

on the fountain basin and held on.

His brother was dead.

The demon lied.

“Kneel and I will raise

you up as my captains.

Together we will rule a kingdom

greater than any you have dreamed.”

Xau let go of the fountain basin.

Slowly, he drew his sword.

He had not wanted a kingdom,

but one had come to him,

one that he would die for.

As the demon neared,

Xau thought,

incongruously,

of the first horse

he had ever had,

the moistness as she lipped up

a piece of apple from his hand.

“Kneel or burn,” said the demon.

A ribbon of indigo flame curled

in the void of the demon’s left hand.

The demon cast the fire

and in that instant

Khyert pushed himself upright

in front of Xau,

straight onto the flame:

a man-torch, a skeleton of fire,

ash and bone crumbling.

Xau lunged at the demon,

his sword catching

on a thickness like honey,

hot as fire,

searing his sword,

the hilt scorching his hand.

He sliced again and again into a darkness

that broke apart on his blade.

He thrust though he could barely

force himself to hold the fiery sword,

thrust though the darkness cried out

in his brother’s voice,

thrust when there was nothing

left to thrust at,

when the flames

and the darkness

had gone.

A hand took his sword from him.

Donal said, “It’s over. You won.

You fucking won.”

Xau took his sword back.

He noted distantly how the sword shook

in his grip,

how it hurt to clasp it,

his hand red, blistered.

Donal went to one knee. “I, Donal,

King of Innis, pledge peace,

never to attack your lands—

draw up a treaty.

I’ll sign it.”

Xau nodded.

He supposed he should feel glad, triumphant.

Maybe later he would.

“Who was that man?” asked Donal.

“Khyert. His name was Khyert.”

Xau walked away from Donal,

away from where the demon had been,

away from the bones

of what had once

been a friend.

THE DEMON’S CREW

Kneel to me,

and I will protect you.

Black-robed, in thrall,

the demon’s crew

knelt as one

on the unlit ship

on the moonless sea.

The demon ashore,