Demon Lord 5: Silver Crown King by Morgan Blayde

casualties they’re taking from the wards.”  A lot of the attacking forces swayed, weakened.  They collapsed as their lifeforce was siphoned invisibly away, making the wards even stronger.  There was a reason all our soldiers were staying indoors, allowing themselves to be penned in.
    In their rush to attack, the magic-users hadn’t properly evaluated the nature of our defenses. 
    They probably thought the giant porch statues were supposed to come to life and defend the property.  The rock demons converged on the last two standing statues, flailing away against them.  The statues weathered the attacks without taking damage.  I looked over at Imari.  “You had a protection spell going to minimize damage at this point?”
    “Not exactly,” she said.  “We had a chaos demon in our ranks.  An entropy spell leeched off the kinetic force.  Same difference, really.  The demons stayed on the porch as we rolled grenades over to them.  The chaos magic was dropped so it wouldn’t corrupt the grenades.  They detonated, breaking up the rock demons.  We swept them away later, along with the broken statues.”
    I shifted my attention to the back of the property where another wave of attackers had come in through the woods, trying to sneak past the massive structure that housed the clan vehicles.  The enemy ranks had been thinned by more of our protective wards.  The notion of planting them, and hiding them while in operation so they couldn’t easily be located, had been one of the Old Man’s best ideas ever.  The wards were Atlantean in origin, a type of magic modern magic-users weren’t familiar with.  They were paying a heavy price for that failure of education.
    Snipers in the upper levels of the mansion opened fire.  On both sides of the Great Hall, the enemy hordes took casualties, forcing them to withdraw to cover. 
    “I’d say you won the first skirmish,” I said.
    “The wards did,” Imari said.
    “Events forced the enemy sorcerers to scry for our defenses and to start attacking them. 
    Time became critical,” the Old Man said.  “So you reemerge from the Hall and parley with the enemy.”
    Inari’s voice was hard and tight.  “Yes, sir, I decided on a strategy that I was sure I could win since their top people didn’t seem to be fire demons like myself.”
    “And where did you get the idea to challenge their leader to a drinking contest to decide everything?” the Old Man asked.
    She said, “I asked myself, ‘What would Caine Deathwalker do.’”
    “Get very drunk,” I answered.  “Very insightful.  What would you have done if it hadn’t worked?”
    “It did work.  I knew it would.  I knew my internal flames would burn up the alcohol so it couldn’t affect me.  And I knew they wouldn’t counter the alcohol because then, they couldn’t have savored it.  That’s why I started with the oldest, most expensive wine in the cellar.  After their general went down, the captains of their troops insisted on picking up the challenge, sure that they could drink me under the table.”
    “So you went through my entire wine cellar,” the Old Man said.
    “The enlisted men wanted their turn to save the day.  The enemy just kept coming and coming.”
    “Until they all passed out drunk,” I said.  “Brilliant!”
    She looked at me.  “Really?”
    “Really,” the Old Man said.  “An expansive victory, but not in terms of lost lives—on our side at each.  Well done.”
    The Old Man and I turned from the display and headed for the exit.  “Okay,” I called, “we’re done here.  Drinks are on Imari!”

 
     
     
     
     
    EIGHT
     
    “One must be wary of roses
    when gathering thorns.”
     
                                                        —Caine Deathwalker
     
     
    Drake and my cousin Kinsey wanted to meet at Bask-n Robins for ice cream.  That’s why I was here, instead of working on the many details needed to