“Bah,” Bikker said, but Croy could tell his heart wasn’t fully in the disdain.
The guards and the men of the watch were already peppering the demon with arrows. The missiles seemed without effect, so a detachment of guards were approaching it with halberds at the ready. As they watched, a tentacle lashed out and threw one poor guardsman half across the courtyard. The man landed in a crump of dented mail and broken bones from which he did not rise.
“Both you and I have good reason to flee this place before our faces are seen,” Bikker said.
“And better reason to stay,” Croy insisted. “When was the last time Acidtongue did what it was made for? A bloodied sword—”
“Is a sword that doesn’t rust,” Bikker finished. He looked disgusted for a moment. Disgusted, perhaps, with himself. Then he took his boot off Croy’s chest and offered him a hand up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was all Malden could do to hold on. His strength was no match for the demon’s, even with half its arms crushed under the fallen tower.
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