Chapter 65

Zhahllaia, Drann, and I crept into the dark. Drann was our guide, born to the underground, guiding us with her softly-glowing skin. I followed close behind, ready to fight what we found. Zhahllaia trailed, her steps completely silent. I wished Maireili were with us, for she knew the dark and our foe, but I couldn't wait. We hunted chaldum, the foul rotkin, the most disgusting of races upon Thür. They could not be allowed to fester.

I first encountered the rotkin a continent away in the steaming jungle of the Axoxcan. They were the foot soldiers of the Rising Shadow, a cult dedicated to the worship of Ughor the Shadow, King of Maggots. The leaders were ghoul necromancers, and often the human converts altered themselves to look more like ghouls with shaved heads and filed teeth. I had the uneasy feeling that armies of chaldum lurked in the dark, ready to spill forth upon the surface on a tide of corruption.

I had hoped they were in my past, but that was a foolish impulse. I had not seen them since before my time as Tyrant of Zuunkhorun, but I had not hunted them. Imagine, believing the world ceased its plans merely because I was occupied. My attention elsewhere had allowed the Rising Shadow to find their way to this idyllic place. It was my responsibility to see to their utter destruction.

The pathway was unclear to my surface-bred senses, but Drann knew it. She and her people had blazed it when they came out of the depths to find the place I had found them. The pursuers, the chaldum, would be at the other end.

"How many?" I asked as we journeyed.

"Many," she said, and I did not need my wazira to translate.

I tried to get a clearer figure, and the djinn struggled to explain. "The wenhoule do not reckon numbers as we do. She describes a number greater than the wenhoule we found, but I cannot tell if she means only a few more or an army."

We moved swiftly, and I was constantly on guard against stalactites and overhangs. We navigated by Drann's own muted glow, the shadows wide and sticky. Before long, I was quite lost in the underground labyrinth, at the mercy of my guide. I was not worried as I believed our night of passion had made me one of her people.

Rage was my companion. My anger came not only from what had been done to the wenhoule, but also to myself. I had left the wenhoule where they had been. When recriminations upon oneself are in the offing, reality did not much intrude. I could not think of the realities of moving them more swiftly than I had. I only blamed myself for not doing it.

A greater reserve was left for my ignoring of the Rising Shadow. They had been my enemies since I was young. I wore a ring crafted by one of their necromancers, won in one of my earliest adventures. Diotenah's voiceless whispers echoed in my mind even now. Whatever was left of her in the ring wanted me to go into the earth. I could not tell if she wanted me to join them or if she simply reveled in the carnage, or even if such things ever mattered to her.

I didn't want to rest, but fatigue compelled us. My sleep was restless and troubled. When I closed my eyes, I saw a great hole opening beneath me, and it was not a hole but the blasphemous maw of Mh'rohgg, the hideous demigod I had twice faced. In my dreams I didn't remember that slain him in the Pit of Khazal. He was hale as ever and would feast on everything I loved. I fell and there I was consumed into a world of darkness and decay. Ash rained from a gray sky and witchfires burned through the broken landscape.

I was awakened by a tingle in my face. Zhahllaia's dainty fingers caressed my cheeks, her gold-flecked eyes filled with concern. "Wake, my love," she murmured. "You were having a nightmare."

"I am sorry."

She placed her palm gently on my chest. It was not the touch of a physical woman, but the caress of breath on the nape of the neck. "There is nothing to forgive."

I put my hand over hers, tenting it to give space where none was needed. "I am glad you are here."

"As am I. I do not often get taken on your adventures."

"When you see these things, you will beg for the lamp."

She shivered. "They were awful enough as corpses. I can't imagine them alive. I heard your descriptions, Maireili's as well, but they did not do these monsters justice."

Drann spoke in the darkness. "She is pleased we are awake," Zhahllaia explained. "She detects an ill scent ahead."

I roused myself, following Drann. I was exhausted, but such things did not matter when the Rising Shadow loomed. The farther we went, the more certain Drann's guidance, the shorter her pauses. Magic sustained me somewhat, but there was no escaping that I was no longer the lean warrior who gamely made his way across the Red Wastes. I had not been idle, but I had also not lived the hardscrabble life of a boldisar.

We smelled the foul stench of the rotkin on the dank underground winds first. A group of the awful creatures rested in one of the many tunnels, most rolled into balls, their diseased flesh heaving with shuddering breaths. Sentries peered into the darkness, each armed with three weapons, two scarred and brutal cleavers, and a two-handed polearm. They carried lanterns made from the glowing toadstools found in the deep places, casting a sickly green glow over everything. The noisome stink of rotted meat permeated my flesh and stuck to my tongue with every breath. As we approached, Drann's glow dimmed until it was almost entirely absent.

I fear it has been some time since I encountered the creatures and fortunately as I write these words, they are nearly unknown upon Thür. Thus, I wish to truly capture these hideous creatures in nauseating detail. Each of them stood a head taller than me, with bulky bodies heavily laden with fat and muscle. Their flesh was wet and glabrous, pale as death with the green undertones of decay. Bristly hairs erupted in irregular patches over their loathsome bodies. Each sported four powerful arms with three fingered hands tipped with hard black claws. They wore harnesses of leather, but no other armor or clothing.

As grotesque as their bodies undeniably were, their heads were the most nauseating. Round and hideous, they had multiple eyes, one pair huge and insect-like, the other three pairs, arranged about the larger, looked almost human. The only other feature on the face was a circular mouth that unfolded into a meaty sphincter ringed with jointed chelicerae.

They gathered around a grub the size of two oxen placed end-to-end and laden with great baskets. This creature was some kind of a draft animal, bred to the foul specifications of its disgusting masters. My stomach turned as my eyes probed the supplies. I saw rotting limbs in there though time and decay had robbed them of any identifying features. Perhaps they were ghoul, dwarf, wenhoule, or even human.

The urge to slay the lot of them filled me. My fingers fluttered, ready to summon Ur-Anu. As soon as it did, the clap of thunder would shake the very walls of this cavern. Stealth would be abandoned in favor of slaughter.

One of the sentries lifted its misshapen head as though sniffing the air. I froze in the dark, wondering if it would come closer. I had every confidence I could kill every last one of these. I had fought more in the dead city in the Axoxcan and I hadn't had my magic then. The initial revulsion fled and I measured a more proper response. Then, apparently satisfied, the sentry ambled away, its attention on another part of the cavern. Carefully, Drann, Zhahlllaia, and I retreated.

"Bel. Attack?" asked Drann.

"No," I whispered, pointing to them. "Follow."

Drann's wide mouth stretched into a grin and she nodded. "Come," she said. She led Zhahllaia and me onto a ledge paralleling the chaldum camp. There we waited, crouching in the darkness. Loathing consumed me, but I stoked it like a campfire. Later, the sleeping ones roused and the little caravan went on a path deeper underground, I believe the same path we had been following since the beginning of our pursuit.

I do not know how long we walked, but I my steps grew heavy in the dark and a stitch gnawed away at my side. Rotkin were so inhuman, they were impossible to read, to tell if the fatigue touched them. I was once again seized with loathing, wondering if I was not being foolish in delaying my vengeance.

Sometime past exhaustion, the rotkin caravan entered a cavern. I perceived it in the sudden way the beams of their witchlights no longer crawled over a too-near ceiling and instead reached out into inky black. Their hideous clicking echoed against the walls, betraying an expansive cavern. Worse still were the answering clicks, a hive of vermin coming to life.

We could not pursue without alerting the sentry who lingered at the threshold. I had no way to remove him silently, and once again longed for Maireili. She could have eliminated that thing without a sound.

Drann tugged on the arm of my robe, pointing a faintly glowing finger off into the dark. I nodded and followed her along a side cavern, trusting that she knew the way. Her long fingers played over the wall as though she could read the disposition of the cavern. Finally, she stopped and beckoned me, gesturing to a narrow tunnel that was nearly invisible in the gloom. The stench billowing from it told me what I would see on the other end.

I climbed into the tunnel, squirming along its throatlike depths. Writhing green witchlight slithered in from the other end. I found an opening that led out onto a ledge. Below, the horror unfolded before me.

The cavern was overrun with rotkin, its floor squirming with them like rotten meat alive with maggots. It was an army of the loathsome creatures. Their draft animals writhed in piles of filth at one side of the cavern, while their warriors infested the rest. All were arranged about a creature in the center that chilled me to the bone. The flickering witchlight did not do much to banish the hungry shadows everywhere. Chittering echoed through the darkness.

The behemoth resembled the foul demigod Mh'rohgg, though thankfully it was not of that size. I thought perhaps the same kind, spawn of the demigod, or perhaps some attempt by the rotkin to breed another. It was at least the size of a small castle, and I wondered how they planned to get the thing from the cavern. That was when a carried lamp momentarily revealed a massive hole on the far side of the chamber. The creature had burrowed here.

The beast writhed restlessly, occasionally crushing rotkin beneath its uncaring bulk. It appeared to be in some distress. I felt no real empathy for it. The hideous grub thing could not provoke any such emotions in me. Its rugose surface was covered in cysts, and at the places they sprang were sutures buried into inflamed flesh. The skin at the top of each swelling was partly transparent, a moving shape within. I watched these in confusion, my mind trying to understand what I beheld. Was this how these creatures reproduced? Was the great grub spawning rotkin? Were these, perhaps two different genders of the same race?

Movement at the edge of the chamber drew my eye. A single ghoul strutted through the press of rotkin. At the sight of her, the ring upon my finger purred in my mind, Diotenah's claw at the nape of my neck, her breath tickling my ear. The ghoul was tall and swanlike, slender and beautiful. She wore little, only a small loincloth secured with chains over her narrow hips. Her nipples were pierced with hooks, chains running to piercings at her clavicles. She wore a crown adorned with stylized grubs, their maws rendered in sapphires. Tattoos ran up her limbs, marking her as a witch. By now I recognized the foul language of these people: The Shadow Speech. She was beautiful and terrible, and Diotenah's whispers urged me to her. In this place, surrounded by decay, I found myself hardening.

"You cannot attack," whispered Zhahllaia. She crouched next to me in the tunnel. The thought that her lamp could fall into the ghoul's possession filled my heart with ice.

"I will not." Between the army, the colossal creature, and what was clearly one of their dark clerics, I knew this host was greater than me. I know this does not square with the legends of the man who faced the Heacharids alone, but as I have made clear many times in these volumes, I was never alone. A plan crystallized in my mind. Foolish, perhaps. I should thank the wenhoule for the specific contours of their larceny.

I followed Zhahllaia from the tunnel and the sight of her hindquarters had the usual effect upon me. Taking her in that tunnel would have been suicide, though I nearly risked it. Drann waited for us in the main tunnel.

"We need to go back," I whispered, and Zhahllaia translated.

Drann angrily pointed to the cavern. "You are a wizard. Smite them!"

I shook my head. "There are too many." Then, I explained exactly what I needed.

Her eyes widened and a smile grew over her wide mouth. She nodded. "We go now."

"My love!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms about me. She had recently given up her adventuring garb for the robes of an academic, but today she wore the old costume. Black leather encased her lithe form, the hilts of daggers everywhere. She wore her Widow's Cloak, the hood pulled back. She was the picture of the deadly underground assassin she had been when we met that second time.

I kissed her, the taste of her mouth putting some strength in my weary limbs. "The Rising Shadow makes camp," I said when we finally broke.

Her black-in-black eyes narrowed. "We need to assemble a host. Lysethe. Allegeth. Knights. Firnóg battle engineers."

"A pitched battle favors them. No, I have something else in mind." Maireili's smile turned predatory as I explained.

"You're exhausted. Rest, my love. I'll gather what we need."

I resolved to remain awake, but as I sat against a thick stalagmite, sleep came unbidden. I did not even notice it had happened. One moment I watched the uniformed men and women of Bashamailon assisting the wenhoule from the cavern and the next Maireili was gently shaking me awake. I blinked the sleep away, seeing that the cavern was now free of the old group of wenhoule, leaving behind only detritus. A wagon laden a pair of barrels securely tied down and pulled by aurochbugs loomed behind her. Two dwarves sat on the buckboard while four more tended the barrels.

I clambered to my feet as Dhurlgar Silverhand approached me. His gaze was stern, his fingers hooked into his belt. He nodded to my bride. "The lady here says there's a threat coming from the depths."

"The ones who drove the wenhoule hither. It's an army, and I believe they either intend to attack us, or else will attack when they find Silverholt. The wenhoule attacked out of desperation. These creatures will destroy everything they touch."

Dhurlgar stroked his beard. "Can't say I think what you did with the yellowskins was wise, but I am a loyal man of Bashamailon. You're the Queen's Prince Consort, and if you tell me there's a host assembled to attack, honor compels me to take it serious."

"You have my thanks, Dhurlgar."

"I do it for love of your wife and the land she keeps safe, Your Highness." He turned and raised his voice. "We're going into the dark. We are all of us, Firnóg, wizard, ghoul, and even yellowskin, as one."

The dwarves warily watched Drann, but showed no aggression. She moved out ahead with a young Firnóg woman, the miners' scout. I prepared to walk, but all insisted I rest in the wagon. The barrels stank of brimstone and soon I sank into troubled dreams. My plan began to feel foolhardy, but I could not think of another. The Rising Shadow had to be stopped no matter the cost.

"There were not so many in the Pit of Khazal," she whispered with a superstitious glance down the tunnel.

"No widowspawn here at least."

"I would prefer their kind to those things. Chaldum ichor fouls my blades."

"Go," I said, kissing her once. "We must move quickly."

Maireili fetched the dwarves. Though Dhurlgar was not fond of me and he outright despised Drann, he treated Maireili with the utmost respect.

"Aye madam," he murmured. "I need a look at this chamber to know where and how to deploy the powder."

Maireili pulled the enchanted cloak from her shoulders and wrapped it about the protesting dwarf. "You will take this. It will help hide you."

"Madam, I cannot sully your fine things with my miner stink."

"Nonsense. I need you unseen."

"And I am not as lightfooted as you, nor so graceful." He gazed at Maireili with a pure love that made me like the old dwarf.

"Just so. Now follow me. Quietly now."

I lost track of Maireili and Dhurlgar quickly. They were gone for a time and when they returned, the dwarf was out of breath.

"I can do what you ask, Your Highness," he said.

"I sense a but," I said.

"Aye, a big one. I need to blow three places to make that roof come down. Two won't be hard. Should be able to do that, especially with Madam Maireili's magic cloak," he unconsciously stroked the fabric.

"And the third?" I asked.

"He will be seen," Maireili finished.

"A distraction then," I said. "I should be able to provide."

"I don't see how one is possible without trapping you in the collapsing cavern," said my wife in horror.

"I am a wizard, my love. The impossible is my trade."

"Bel," she said sternly, looking to Zhahllaia for some support.

"There is a ledge through a side tunnel," I said, pointing to the place I remembered. "I will engage them from there. Give me a warning before you light the powder and I will retreat."

"Will you speak sense to him?" Maireili said to Zhahllaia. "Perhaps he'll listen to you."

"I've seen the ledge myself. There is no better place for a distraction."

"This is madness!"

"It is, but so is allowing this host to enact its aims," Zhahllaia said. "If it came to Bashamailon, our kingdom falls. Worse still would be allowing them to fester in the Infernium Peaks, to spill out later. I'm afraid I agree with our husband to the necessity of this task."

Maireili turned to Dhurlgar. "Can anyone survive this?"

He stroked his beard. "Well, were it one of mine, I would say no. His Highness has some kind of protective magics, doesn't he? If any could survive, it'd be a wizard."

Maireili glared at the dwarf, then the djinn. Violently, she grabbed my head and pulled me into a hard kiss. She broke from me, her tooth slicing my lip, her eyes on mine. "You will use all of your tricks to escape, do you understand me?"

"I will."

"If you do not, I will never forgive either of you," she said to me and Zhahllaia.

Dhurlgar issued orders and the dwarves unloaded the barrels of demon powder, rolling them carefully up the tunnel. I took Zhahllaia back to the wagon, putting her lamp there. "I need you back here."

"Bel, I can look after you. A collapsing cavern won't harm me."

"It might harm your lamp." I felt myself faltering. "Zhahllaia, return to your lamp, please."

The billowing smoke did not mask the glare she shot me. "You will pay for that later," Maireili said.

"Better to have the both of you mad at me than either of you harmed."

We rejoined the dwarfs as they portioned the demon powder into pouches, uniting them with greased fuses. I still don't understand the riddle of powder, even as it has become far more common in the modern age and leave such things to experts and madmen. I gathered my strength, preparing the spells I would need while they worked. When they were ready, I kissed Maireili one final time and found the side tunnel.

I crept along the tight passage to the opening where I had observed the rotkin camp before. The ledge was smaller than I remembered. In my mind, I had turned it into a wide expanse that would more than provide for my maneuvers. Instead of a great platform, such as the one I battled Syventyth from atop, I would have only a thin strip of stone that I could barely trust to hold my weight.

I remained at the opening in the wall, watching Maireili and Dhurlgar creep into the room. They were hard to see, with the dwarf hidden by the Widow's Cloak and Maireili with her natural stealth. Watching Maireili in her element, being the skilled and brave woman I knew her to be filled me with love anew.

They crept to the first location, a pillar near the entryway. It was the most shadowed, and the beast in the center of the room consumed the attention of the rotkin. The massive thing clicked its jaws and turned over, writhing against the stone as though to scrape off the pustules that dotted its flesh. The chaldum retreated every time it moved, though there was not enough space to go very far.

Dhurlgar lay out the explosive pouches about the column, handling each one of them with elaborate care. Maireili watched from the dark, her hands on her blades. With the first prepared, they returned for another load of powder.

Replenished, they crept to the second support, this one a wall near the far end of the cavern. It was far better lit than the first, with a cluster of witchfire lanterns nearby. Yet most of the attention was upon the massive beast in the middle of the room.

My attention turned to the ghoul leader. She had been out of my view, somewhere below me, emerging to approach the mammoth beast in the center of the chamber. She was surrounded this time by a cadre of ghouls, each one armed with blades. Three of them held packs of ghasts on chains like the handler of war dogs.

The leader spoke. This was not a dialect of the ghoulish tongue. I spoke a bit of Maireili's, though I was out of practice and we spoke Abbih whenever possible. This was the Shadow Speech, perhaps related, but where the ghoulish tongue is soft and funereal, this was harsh. Its syllables scraped uncomfortably against my bones.

As she spoke, the chaldum moved. Some secured the pack beasts, while others collected food and supplies. Though the rotkin are fundamentally different than humanity, in their movements they were the same. An army is a collection of individuals, but it becomes a creature of its own. There is something insectile about such a force, and in this, the rotkin became somewhat understandable.

Dhurlgar rigged the second charge and fetched the last of the demon powder charges. Now he would have to cross in the open to get to the last spot. I did not trust the magic of the cloak against that of the dark witch. I could wait no longer.

I clambered from the hole, hoping that I would not be noticed until I was suitably impressive. One does not cut an intimidating feature on all fours. Ask any of my wives.

I rose to my full height. Below, the army went about its business, the witch barking orders in her blasphemous tongue. I felt nothing but loathing. None of the scraps of pity I felt for the Heacharids tugged at my heart. It was as though I looked at a slab of rotten meat. I wanted it gone, out of my sight, burned to ash. I momentarily met Maireili's eyes, down below. Concern filled their onyx depths.

I would not be dissuaded from my path. This, at least, was noble. No doubt cluttered my mind or clouded my will. I would hurl the Shadow back and keep my wife's kingdom safe.

I held my hand out. Thunder shook the cavern, bringing with it a rain of dust. The bolt of lightning was blinding, cooking the very air about it. Then I held in my hand Ur-Anu, called Fate, the Blackspear. The weapon, forged to slay a god, could be nothing other than glorious. Its bone-white wooden haft was carved with my deeds, its obsidian blade glowed with magic.

The rotkin chittered and the ghouls looked about. Only the dark witch looked up, her eyes meeting mine. The ring's whispers deepened and I recognized the sound of Diotenah's breath in the throes of passion. In my mind, I saw Diotenah's final moments, riding me to bliss as the power of her incantation took her. Then it was not Diotenah, but this ghoul. Diotenah's claws reached about, cupping the other ghoul's small breasts, Diotenah's head came over her shoulder, grinning.

The cleric bared her teeth, the sharp points glittering with silver. In her black eyes, I saw recognition, as though she had seen the memory, the fantasy, the passing thought that had just been in my mind. Recognition sparked in her and a gleeful hate lit her ferally beautiful features.

I wanted to look at Maireili, to see how long I still had to delay, but I could not betray her even with a glance. I met the gaze of the dark witch, trying to display confidence I didn't feel.

"I have heard tales of thee, Belromanazar the Skyfury," hissed the witch in heavily-accented archaic Eomet." She spat on the floor. "I name thee thorn."

"And what do I name you?" I asked, my voice rolling like thunder. "Corpse hardly seems respectful."

"I am Valyxa, called the Hand of Decay."

"A witch of the Rising Shadow. I suppose I should give you the opportunity to surrender."

"Thy arrogance betrays thee," she said, licking her lips. "I will drink thy blood from thy pretty skull."

"Diotenah the Shadow's Daughter thought to make a sacrifice of me," I mused, making a show of inspecting the ring I had taken from her ashes. "Now I wear the sigil of her power upon my finger. What, I wonder, will I take from you?"

Her beautiful face twisted in rage and she shrieked a command in the Shadow Speech. Battle was well and truly joined.

I summoned my storm, the spell already waiting at my will. Leaden clouds snaked over the ceiling of the cavern. Lights boomed inside each one as lightning spidered over rock. Thunder was deafening in the cavern, rebounding off every rock face. The rotkin cowered, though whether it was the hideous din or genuine fear I do not know.

Valyxa's lips rippled, flashing her silvered teeth. Her black-in-black eyes blazed with true hatred, a rage I knew all too well. I had looked upon the Heacharid Emperor thus. She held out one clawed hand, the looming shadows of the cavern writhing and reaching for me, solid enough to hold and cut. I sent sheets of lightning through the rotkin, slaying a company and raising them as stormwights.

Diotenah's power sang in my mind. Where I touched the newly-raised stormwights, my mind recoiled. They were fouler than death. Unlike the wights I raised from others, the bodies of the chaldum continued to rot, falling apart even as they hacked into their former comrades.

I did not dwell on them. I needed to concentrate on the witch Valyxa, or I wouldn't have to worry about the immanent collapse of the cavern. I had grown used to thinking of other spellweavers as lesser than me. Whatever I lacked in raw power, I made up for in experience. I could battle three seasoned witchthralls to a standstill. Valyxa proved to be my equal, skilled at using her twin advantages of number and rest against me.

Waves of rotkin clambered up the sheer wall to beset me upon the narrow ledge. They would not slay me, for Ur-Anu guided my steps, and sweeps of the obsidian blade made their ichor rain upon their fellows below. Valyxa never believed that she would kill me thus. She needed only the distraction, for in a duel of mages, that is enough.

As I hurled my storm against her shadows, the massive grub creature had grown still. The room was pure chaos, but the great beast only twitches. Sticky shadows slithered over the thing, collecting at the cysts. These shuddered, the shadows within them thrashing. The flesh strained at the sutures, foul pus spilling where they joined.

Maireili and Dhurlgar piled the powder containers about the last of the three spots. I glimpsed my bride brutally dispatch one of the ghouls and his three ghasts while the miner carefully placed each charge. I had only to fight Valyxa just long enough for the two of them to get to safety. As I made the calculation, I beheaded a rotkin who had pulled himself to the ledge, threw a sheet of lightning at Valyxa, and parried the swing of another chaldum.

My attention returned to the grub-creature. The shadows seemed to be feeding Valyxa, and the cysts were the source. Perhaps that was the key.

I hurled talons of lightning across the colossal grub. Its flesh hissed as it silently writhed in agony. Blue-white talons worked their way under the biggest of the cysts upon its back. Valyxa howled, her shadows wrapping about me, their frigid touch leeching the strength from my body. Smoke rose as the sutures popped. The cyst popped and a figure tumbled free. I could not see what it was, though its flesh was a shiny black, wet with the foul fluids.

I felt a faint tug in the connection between Maireili and I that Ten Ghosts had forged on our wedding night. Maireili's presence, as subtle as the night itself, was with me, calling. It was time for me to retreat. The demon powder would be set soon.

I slew a rotkin next to me and kicked another off the ledge, banished Ur-Anu to wherever it waited between battles, then spun and crouched to dive through the narrow tunnel. At that moment, something wrapped about my leg. It was a tentacle of shadow, one of Valyxa's incantations. I readied a spell on my lips to cut it off, but it yanked hard and suddenly I was over air.

At that moment, the world turned to cacophony and I rested in oblivion.

I whispered a spell, and a tiny cloud coalesced in front of my eyes, the crackling lightning crawling over its surface shedding a fitful illumination on my surroundings. I found that I was in a cramped cave, buried to my waist.

Maireili's presence was distant, her mood too muddled to teach me anything other than that she lived. I hoped she could sense the same. Quiyahui was a stronger presence, that link integral to who I was as a wizard, and there I felt relief. I bade her find the others.

A skittering sound rushed through the dark. Ice seized my heart. I momentarily considered summoning Ur-Anu, but quickly dismissed the notion as I had no wish to collapse this pocket that currently sustained me. My mind rushed through spells, and I wondered which could possibly be safe to use in such cramped and unstable quarters. I imagined a chaldum coming to finish me off, and what an ignominious end that would be.

"What are you?" A face eclipsed my vision. Her eyes were crimson and slitted vertically, and in the darkness, her skin looked to be a lustrous black. A pair of horns curved from her forehead and a mane of tendrils where there should be hair ran down her back, writhing sluggishly, and glowing with spots of pink, purple, and blue. Her full lips parted to reveal sharp fangs. Her breath was redolent with blood and blade oil.

"A wizard," I said, careful not to move and threaten her. My mind spun, trying to choose a spell that might combat her. "And you're a demon."

"A demon, such that your kind calls me," she said, cocking her head.

"You were in the creature," I said, remembering the shape that had been freed from the cyst.

"I was at that," she spat. "The sorcerous bitch bound me into that vermin. I felt your power. You released me."

"What did she want with you?"

"What does any want? Power." She inspected me like a meal. "I should kill you. A creature like you, too powerful to be safe."

"I'll kill us both before I let you," I said, and released a small spell that sent a rumble though the confined quarters. A small rainfall of dust hit the two of us. "Besides, we're better off aiding one another in escaping this place. And once we do, if you still wish to kill me, you're welcome to try."

She sniffed me and then broke into a grin. "You are a slayer of men. I can smell it on you."

"That I am."

Her hands were three fingered, each tipped in a curved talon that she clicked against the stone. "Very well, a man such as you might be amusing for a time. I am Nal'qiranaath."

"Belromanazar."

"Dangerous to give a demon your name."

"Dangerous to give a wizard the same. Now, can you help me get out of here?"

She hooked her arms beneath mine and a delicious tingle worked its way up my spine as I beheld her talons close enough to end me. With shocking power, she pulled me from the rubble. As I came free, the chamber shifted and my heart nearly stopped. Then the chamber was silent, save for our breathing.

I found I could move my legs now, though they were covered in cuts and scrapes. The cavern was just expansive enough to sit upright, and I sat on an unstable mass of rubble that shifted whenever I did. I was out of my first predicament but far from safe.

Nal'qiranaath knelt, watching me with the curiosity of a car regarding a mouse. She was nude, displaying a curvy figure that rippled with tigerish muscle. A slender scorpion's tail lashed behind her, and a pair of bat wings were folded upon her back. She was beautiful the way a newly-sharped blade was, and I could understand why one of Sarakiel's human ancestors had bred with one of the demon's people. I could see now that her skin was in fact a deep blue, with darker midnight blue designs running over her limbs.

"I can see your thoughts, wizard," she said, a reptilian tongue dimpling her lips. "You said we were going to get out."

"Indeed," I said. She was right. Now was not the time to ogle a fetching demon. Even if she were willing, any proper loveplay might collapse the chamber.

I directed my spell to explore the chamber. The little cloud found every nook and cranny of the cramped environs. I watched it breathlessly, alert to the tiniest change. Other wizards had talents that focused on rock and stone. One of them would have been free by now. I nearly despaired before I noticed a flicker. The clouds shivered. A faint wind kissed them. I reached out with my aerilean senses and felt the soft caress of a faint underground breeze.

"There," I murmured, fearful that the slightest sound would collapse the place about our ears.

Nal'qiranaath crawled to the spell. Her legs were bestial, ending in talons like a bird. Her hindquarters were all too human, and as she crawled, I was treated to the sight of her orchid, the lips inviting. A note of her musk hit me, smelling a bit like blood pudding. A momentary flash of me grabbing her hips and taking this razored beauty invaded my mind. Her tail, tipped in its scorpion sting, would have me at her mercy.

"I admit, I know little of demons," I murmured, to distract myself from the lustful thoughts.

"No one who did would attempt to strike a bargain," she said with a chuckle.

"I know your descendants, the darklings."

"I have heard there are those still in this place. Do you know them well?"

"One of them is the mother of many of my children."

"Your bloodline mingles with that of a demon," she mused.

"Many times. One of them sits the throne of a distant land." I paused, frowning, as I realized it had been nearly a century since I left Zuunkhorun. Had the time really moved so quickly? "Or one did. I do not know the disposition of either the lad or the throne now."

The cavern grew tighter and I was forced to slither. Though even as the environs closed about me, the air smelled faintly fresher. Nal'qiranaath's tail twitched in my face like a taunt while her talons gripped the fallen stone. Her strange, womanly scent enfolded me, spurring me to crawl faster.

"They summoned you here?" I gasped, following the demon and hoping her self-preservation would lead us out of the trap.

"Sometimes one of my people make it to this place, but most of us are summoned," she grumbled.

"Why come here?"

"Your world is full of prey."

"Does your world not have prey?"

"Nothing so soft," she said dismissively. "Where I m from, everything fights, everything can kill. Hunting is easy here."

"You were captured by some of that prey."

"Full of prey does not mean entirely prey."

"And what am I?"

"Remains to be seen."

"I suppose I have--" The rest of my sentence was erased as the floor shifted beneath me and I went tumbling. I fell past the demon, rolling down a slope of loose detritus to come to a bone-jarring stop. I lay there, gathering my wits as I fought breath into my aching chest.

Fortunately, my spell of light had persisted, hovering over me as though to mock my present predicament. I found myself crashed against a fat stalagmite. Experimentally, I raised the light and found that I had headroom. I got to my feet painfully.

I stood in an expansive chamber, one side a great slope of broken rock and gravel, the rest open area that led out into tunnels. I was treated to the uncanny sight of Nal'qiranaath crawling down the slope of debris. She moved easily on all fours, her scorpion tail lashing as she moved. When she reached me, she settled into an bestial crouch. She was at once animalistic and alluring.

I hunted about the cavern, my spell darting to and fro like a will-o-the-wisp. Before, there had been but one option, and so it was easy to choose. Now, I had no idea which of the tunnels would take me to the surface. I longed for the presence, or better the skills, of any of my dwarf- or ghoul-blooded descendants. They lived quite comfortably in the lightless depths. I'd seen them read trails that were invisible to me.

"Now what is to be done with you," mused the demon, reminding me of her threat. Her serpentine tongue ran over her lips. She cocked her head, and hunger danced in her inhuman eyes.

I took a step away. "What did you have in mind?"

She moved crabwise. I caught a glimpse of her orchid, already drooling, the lust of murder working its magic upon her body. "I have been locked away for some time. I hunger."

"I was going to ask how to send you home. I suppose slaying you will be the next best thing," I said, preparing myself to summon Ur-Anu.

"A wounded man. Barely a meal. I'll pick my teeth with your bones."

The crack of thunder was deafening and the lightning for one moment illuminated the lightness depths. The debris form the initial collapse shifted, another avalanche spilling over our feet. I held my godslayer in hand, the lightning veins in the obsidian blade glowing with fell energies.

She watched Ur-Anu warily. I did not yet brandish the Blackspear, but it sent its threads into my mind, showing me the route of victory. She would pounce, and I could kick the butt out from under it, step to the side. One clean slice and the sting from her tail would fall to the floor. Another and her head would follow.

"You fear Fate," I said, using the weapon's translated name. "That I can understand. It was made to kill far bigger prey than you."

"What do you propose, Fatebearer?"

"The same deal we had. We make our way from these caverns and if you still wish to die, I'll accommodate you then."

"Why not kill me now? Be done with it?" Her confusion was genuine.

"You are still useful to me."

"Your kind sleeps. My kind does not." She bared her sharp teeth.

"Then there is a limit to how far I can trust you. That should trouble you far more than it does me." I looked about, trusting the enchantment of the godslayer I carried to warn me of an attack. "I have read that your kind lives underground."

"My world is like yours. There is more underground than above. We live in the mouths of the great caverns, near the surface."

"What is your world?"

"Uk'thol," she said absently. "I have heard your kind call it the Plane of Evil. The Plane of Dominance is more correct."

"Evil," I mused. "I have been called that."

"Dominant?"

"From time to time."

"You would be killed in Uk'thol," she sneered "You play at being predator. We would show you to be prey."

"You are preoccupied with those words."

"We are a place of predators," she preened. The tentacles growing from her head writhed of their own accord. "Everything in my world hunts. Everything."

"Even your people are hunted?"

"We hunt one another. I have slain and eaten many enemies."

"If you hunt and eat one another, how do you mate?"

"When we wish to mate, we take who we want. I have taken those I wanted and been taken by those who wanted me. I have slain and eaten more than one who thought to fuck me." She leered, and I knew she had divined what was on my mind. My gaze had lingered upon her heavy breasts and the sweet slit between her legs. I thought of fighting her, the savage joy of conquering her.

"That does not seem conducive to getting things done," I managed. "If you're always worried if someone is going to eat you, how do you build cities? Make art? Write poetry?"

She spat, and her spittle hissed against the stone. "They foster only weakness. Let the prey sing of beauty. I'll eat their guts."

"The creation of beauty is the greatest strength of all." I thought of Axichis. That had been their true gift to the world, snuffed out by the Heacharids. The true irony was that the beauty of the Amazons would outlive anything built by the Heacharid Empire.

"A poem will never slay an enemy."

"But it could make an enemy into a friend."

"I do not see the point of a such a weak and foolish friend to be swayed by ephemera."

"We will not see eye to eye on this. Or many things."

"No," she agreed. "You need me. I do not need you to do anything other than line my belly."

I looked into her crimson eyes, my grip tightening on Ur-Anu. "Then my deal is rejected."

She grinned. "You should feel honored to die beneath the claws of a true predator."

I knew then what I had to do. I could kill her, but I did not like my chances in the darkness alone. The Rising Shadow might still be out there and I was in no condition to fight one of their black priestesses. I needed both guide and ally. My time in the Red Wastes had given me understanding of what spoke to the demon. Nal'qiranaath understood but one thing. Dominance.

"Open your mouth," I said, stepping back with my right foot and shifting my grip upon the spear. "You will dine upon my seed tonight."

"Why would I settle for that when I can eat your eyes?"

"You have two choices. You can suck or you can die."

She watched me, her vertically-slitted eyes holding amused hatred. "I think instead I shall eat you. But I will start with your cock."

She lunged, her teeth bared. Ur-Anu showed me her attack, but she was so swift I nearly was not able to execute its guidance. I stepped aside and instead of taking her head off, I hit her across the jaw with the butt of the spear. She stumbled only for a split second, whirling on me, hissing like a cobra.

Her tail raised above her head, the stinger beading with noxious poison. Ur-Anu bade me slice it off, but I could not bear to wound her thus. Instead I called to my powers, and her sting slammed into a solid wall of air that then pushed her sprawling on the cave floor.

She looked about, the shadow of fear on her face, as clouds slithered over the floors like living things. Lightning flashed from within. She retreated, but the clouds pursued. She leapt at me in desperation, but this time I caught her with my magic, the clouds wrapping about her, slamming her back to the cavern floor.

I put the obsidian blade to her throat. "Yield?" I demanded.

Her foot closed about my ankle and she yanked me off my feet. I hit the stone floor heavily, the aches of my punishing day exploding. The clouds that had been my weapon recoiled, my will momentarily scrambled. Nal'qiranaath was quick, skittering to her feet and pouncing atop me.

I caught her wrists. She was stronger than I was, her claws flared. Her tail raised up, ready to plunge into my face.

"You were a fool, wizard. Now you are food," she hissed.

I spoke a word. Lightning tore through my body, taking her wrists. She howled. Smoke hissed from where I held her. She wrenched one hand from mine, raking me with her talons. Bright burning lines ran from my chest.

I called to my magic, knocking her from me. Now I pounced. We rolled over and over, wrestling like savages. I called upon reserves I didn't know I had and managed to get atop her while she was face down on the floor. Her tail was pinned between us, twitching with malicious intent. A droplet collected at the sting, a point of her venom. Its caustic scent brought tears to my eyes. She struggled, but though she was strong, I held her fast. Her strong body was beneath me, the heat of her producing the expected result. Her wings pushed against me, but the leathern flaps could not muster the power to knock me aside.

I was hard. I needed to dominate her utterly but more than that I wanted her. My robe unraveled, unsheathing my staff for the most brutal part of this combat. I strained for her, needing to be buried in this hissing creature. I pushed my knee between her legs, spreading her. She squirmed and fought, struggling futilely against me. I maneuvered my staff to her sopping orchid, hot against me.

"You are my slave," I gasped into her ear.

"I will eat you alive," she snarled. The last was erased as I pushed into her with a small cry. She was blazing hot, her insides gripping me with a delicious strength. The fear and pain of combat drove my ardor to new heights. My knees scraped the dirty stone floor as I thrust to the hilt.

"Call me master," I commanded.

"Curse you," she spat.

Yet her hips rocked against my intrusion. Her hisses gave way to grunts. She took me easily, her hot depths hungry for me. Her hair, the sluggish tendrils, reached. I pushed them aside to find her neck, and the strands twined about my fingers and stroked my face. I brushed a kiss over the nape of her neck, then bit down hard. She growled deep in her throat, pushing back harder against me. Her tail twitched, the bead of venom dropping from the curved sting.

She pulled one hand away from me, reached back, and raked me with her talons. The bright pain pushed my thrusts deeper into her. Her growl was broken, filled with need. I grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the ground with my weight. My thrusts were brutal, taking every inch of her with barbaric intent.

A whispered incantation sent lightning through where we were bridged. It spidered over her arms and hands and into her demonic womb. She hissed, smoke rising from between us. Her movements grew more passionate, pushing back with greater vigor. The burning places she clawed in me covered her in my own sticky blood. I would give her more.

My thrusts were deeper now, long and brutal strokes. The lightning played over her, hissing and burning her flesh. She screamed once, her body shaking in the pain and pleasure of the moment. The bliss built in me and I strained to hold, desperate to wring more from her body.

"Who do you belong to?" I gasped, each word punctuated with a hard, grinding stroke.

"You are my master," she snarled, her own words broken.

Her vow broke the floodgates, and my senses were gone in a rush of pure bliss as I filled her. I was momentarily helpless as I recovered, but Nal'qiranaath was as exhausted as I. I pulled myself from her soaking sex, releasing her. I would not show my weakness. The second I did would be the second she turned on me.

She climbed to all fours. My seed leaked from her obscenely, going down one shapely thigh. She cocked her head, her crimson eyes on mine. "What would you have me do?" she asked. Her supplication inflamed me, and though my body was heavy with fatigue and injury, I found myself swelling.

"You will take me in your mouth," I decided. "Show me you belong to me."

"As you wish, my master."

She crawled forward, licking her sharp teeth. This was foolish. She had vowed to eat me cock first and now I was ready to put it in her mouth. But I wanted it. I wanted to control her. I wanted the feeling of the demon's mouth about my manhood. I wanted to fill her belly as I had filled her womb. I wanted her to belong to me.

She licked me, her tongue collecting the strands of my seed that still cling to me. Her saliva burned, right on the edge of pain.

"You hurt, master?" she teased.

"I like pain," I said, collecting the tentacles in my hand and pressing her down. She obediently opened her mouth wide, swallowing me. Her teeth rested against the silky flesh of my manhood, poised to unman me with a single bite. The thrill of the danger ran light fingers over my body even as the wounds she put on me.

She slurped me without art. Her caustic saliva ran down my staff to sizzle against my fleece. I pushed her head down, and she obeyed me, her throat accepting me without complaint. It felt like a second orchid deep in there, and I rocked in and out, taking it with short, brutal strokes. The bliss dd not take long to arrive, and she swallowed me without hesitation.

I drew myself from her throat, wiping myself across her cheeks. "Who are you?" I demanded.

"I am your slave," she growled.

I clambered to my feet. My robes rewove themselves about me. I had no way to tend to the wounds she inflicted, and I could only hope they were not too deep. I would see a healer when I found my way from the cave. The lines burned, but the blood that leaked from me was cold.

I regarded the demon. After a moment of consideration, I spoke an incantation. The clouds that remained upon the stone floor wrapped about her wrists and neck. A crackling bolt of lightning gave me a leash.

"Lead us to the surface, Nal'qiranaath," I ordered.

The demon obeyed, crawling along in the dark in front of her, the light of her leash shedding a fitful glow. We stopped hours later and I took her again, roughly. She bore it well, shivering in bliss as I once again filled her. Then I slept. A risk, but one I took. I awakened and found I was not dead. She watched me with an unreadable expression.

"You are ready?" she asked.

"I am," I said, assuming she meant to travel. Without hesitation, she lifted my robes and sucked me to bliss once again.

"No, it's not that," I said with a laugh "I recognize this place. We can get out." The smile vanished from my face as I looked upon the demon at my feet.

"You wonder what you will do with me," she said. There was no hurt in her tone, merely a correct assessment of my mind.

"What would you have me do?"

She frowned as though the answer was obvious. "You should fuck me once more then slay me."

"I do not do things that way." The previous two days had sparked some affection in me for her, and slaying her, no matter what she was, felt wrong. "Can you return to Uk'thol?"

"That is beyond my skill." She squirmed in place, and I noted her growing wet. The danger aroused her.

"Then we are left with but one option. Nal'qiranaath. I am your master. You live and die by my pleasure. You will slay those who harm me or my family."

"Why would I not slay you when given the opportunity?"

"I suppose that will be something the both of us will answer."

"You are a foolish one, Belromanazar," she mused.

"I've been called worse."

We found our way into Silverholt, where Maireili found us. She fretted over my wounds and the demon that I led on my magical leash. My brides were not sanguine on the subject of Nal'qiranaath for some time but eventually she was accepted and even loved.

Scholars of my life must be wondering about her, for she does not appear in the histories. I tell you she does. Look in the The Dirge of the Ageless or Storm and Shadow or other works and you will find accounts of my "summoned demon." In every case, the demon was Nal'qiranaath, summoned from my bedchamber. She has been something of a secret, with the children she bore me attributed to Sarakiel.

My relationship with the demon was a strange one. I never could quite trust her, even after several centuries and children. But as she said, I am a foolish one.