by Sunny
“Then why did I feel that just now?” Talon asked.
Lucinda shrugged. “You must have sensed it in me, through our binding.”
“Or it is an ability that you have gained from her,” Ruric rumbled from behind. “To be renewed by our moons.”
Talon turned back to gaze at the brutal features set so hard and unemotionally that they seemed an inanimate mask. “You seem to know much of my kind.”
“Only a few basic things,” Ruric said, falling back into a stony silence.
They traveled at a brisk pace for the next several hours, and though Talon marveled at the new sights he encountered, he did not talk any further, conserving his energy instead for keeping up with the others. While he and Lucinda carried only a light rucksack strung over their shoulders, the two guards carried heavy packs strapped across their backs. Yet they moved effortlessly as if they weighed nothing. Remarkably enough, Talon was able to keep up with them. Gone was the fatigue of the past, that ever-present physical weakness. And while he would not go so far as to say his energy was boundless, it was indeed plentiful, as he had never felt before in his life.
He soaked in the heat. Soaked in the energy that seemed to constantly replenish within him as soon as it was lost, and pondered over this amazing new state of physical well-being.
The journey would have been wonderful were Lucinda not giving him away at the end of it. For his own good; Talon understood that. And he realized it was more her issue than his. Her self-image and sense of self-worth was pitifully low. Something he could relate to but did not know how to correct. He, himself, had only reached out once for something he’d wanted—her. And it had resulted in the binding, their current sad mess. Other than that, he had known nothing but fear and weakness within himself, and obeying others’ orders. No wonder the Princess did not wish to be bound to him.
But still, as they trekked across the increasingly wilder and more desolate land, he could not help but feel astonished at being here in this realm, something he had not even known existed. He had thought himself odd and alone, a misfit all his life. And could not help but thirst to see others of his kind. Others like him.
When Rubera had marched across the sky and began to dip down over the land’s rim, they stopped in a small clearing, a bare strip of land with nothing but hard, dry dirt and a few stunted bushes here and there.
“We stop here for the night,” Hari said, dropping his pack, letting it thud heavily down to the ground, kicking up a puff of dust.
“Why are we stopping?” Talon asked.
Lucinda answered. “Because it will be dark soon.”
An odd thing to say, Talon thought, when it had been nothing but dark in Hell so far. The orange-yellow rays of the second moon had cast only a dim glow, and Rubera’s red light was more dusky than bright.
Ruric began to yank up the brush, pulling the scrubby growth out by its roots. “Why is he doing that?” Talon asked.
“Ruric,” she said, “tell Talon why you are doing that.”
“As the Princess commands. I do this so that there is no place for others to hide,” Ruric rumbled.
Talon didn’t think the poor stunted bushes were big enough to conceal a mouse, much less a demon, but he held his tongue, not wanting to anger the big, intimidating demon.
Lucinda felt no such obvious constraint. “My father is not here, Ruric,” she said, her voice sounding terse and annoyed. “There is no need to call me by a title you do not believe true. My name will suffice.”
Ruric’s face and tone did not alter in any way, staying remote. “It is what your father calls you.”
“He is not my father,” she snapped.
Ruric simply walked away to dispose of the brush he had uprooted.
Hari cast them an oily smile. “Ruric is a demon of few words and simple belief. The High Lord’s word is law to him.”
“And to you?” Lucinda asked silkily.
“To me as well,” Hari said with an easy smile.
Congenial words, but Talon did not like how the demon lingered his gaze upon Lucinda. He looked at her like a man watched a woman he wanted to fuck. Not as a warrior should look upon a princess he was supposed to be protecting.
“Are you interested in me, Hari?” Lucinda asked, her lips curving up into a lazy come-hither smile, her voice taking on a deliberate, rich stroking sultriness Talon had never heard before.
Hari’s smile widened. “I would not be averse to some pleasure.”
“Nor would I,” she said with biting sweetness. “But it would be my pleasure, not yours. In case you were delusional enough to entertain other hopes, let me make clear that I have no interest in you, whatsoever.”
Hari’s teeth flashed white in the shadowy bronze of his face, a pirate’s smile. “Perhaps I can change your mind.”
Lucinda slowly shook her head. “When Hell is ablaze in sunlight. I’d forgotten why I’d never quite liked you, Hari. That vanity and heavy ego of yours. It must be quite a burden to carry around.”
“No burden at all,” Hari smirked. “And that ego comes from the cries of many a satisfied demon lady.”
Lucinda sneered. “I am not one of those sheltered, giggling aristocrats.”
“I know,” Hari said, his words a soft and sultry, vibrant sound.
She gazed at the handsome demon guard with unveiled disdain. “Then you know that if you touch me in any way, I will cut off your limbs and then your balls and leave them here for the hellhounds to feed upon.”
“Careful, Princess.” Hari’s eyes narrowed. “Your hellhound bitch is not around this time.”
Lucinda curled her lip contemptuously at him. “No need for Brindle when I can so easily take care of you myself.”
Their hostility swirled like a dark thundercloud, thickening the air around them with the brittle tension of violence ready to be unleashed.
Ruric suddenly reappeared, his impassive face closed and hard. “You take watch, Hari. I will stay here with them.”
“Says who?” Hari snarled with ready aggression.
“Says Ruric,” growled the bigger demon, his face looking as if it were carved from sharp jutting stone.
Hari threw a murderous glare at Lucinda, then, snatching up his pack, stalked off. After he left, Ruric sat down on the ground.
Opening his bag, he pulled out a leather drinking pouch. The tang of blood filled the air as he twisted it open, and a small pang of hunger gnawed at Talon as he watched the demon gulp down the liquid.
“Sit and rest and eat, Talon,” Lucinda said, once more at ease, as if nothing untoward had happened. She rummaged through her rucksack.
Talon examined the contents of his own bag—two leather pouches similar to the one Ruric drank from, and strips of dried meat.
“What are these?” he asked.
“Challo,” Lucinda told him. “A mixture of sheep and cow’s blood mixed with wine. The jerky is yaro, similar to venison.”
“I only drink blood,” Talon said.
“On Earth. Our metabolism slows down in that other realm; you cannot digest solid food. Here, though, we eat. Try it.”
Talon did, cautiously biting off a small piece of the yaro jerky. It felt strange to chew and swallow. And it felt weird going down his throat. But his stomach did not revolt and spew it back up. It tasted surprisingly good. He took another bite and washed it down with a gulp of challo. The blood wine was sweet, while the meat was salty and tough.
As the red twilight darkness ebbed and grew dimmer, as Rubera slipped down over the edge of the land, Lucinda murmured quietly to him, “Stay by my side.”
“I was not planning on leaving it,” Talon said.
She looked at him. “You are not angry at me anymore?”
He avoided a direct answer. “I understand why you are doing this.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The last burgundy ray of light disappeared. Like a light switch suddenly flicked off, they were abruptly swallowed up by darkness
so complete, a blackness so overwhelming, that Talon could not see for one frightening moment. Then his eyes adjusted and the fear gripping him lessoned as his senses expanded out in a new and wondrous way. It was as if he became the ground itself, the air that swept over it. He was aware of the insects scuttling across the ground, of the small trill of birds sheltering in trees just beyond the clearing. In an unfathomable way, he knew every rock and blade of grass that tenaciously sprang out of that dry, hard soil.
He could see Lucinda beside him. Not clearly as normal eyes would see, but rather the outline of her energy and that of Ruric’s. And he knew where Hari stood watch a short distance off. He even saw himself sitting beside Lucinda. But the force that he sensed in the others was absent in him, for some reason, as if his energy had left his body. That absence alarmed him, made him flow back into himself, and as he did so, he saw vitality flicker and outline his form, too. He sat there in darkness, once more in his solid body, shook by what had occurred.
Lucinda’s voice reached out to him like a lifeline, something to hold on to. “Don’t be afraid of the darkness, Talon. It will soon pass.”
“I’m not.” And he wasn’t afraid. Not of the darkness, but of what had just occurred to him in that darkness. Of what he had touched, become a part of for one brief instant. Out of everything that he had seen so far, this utter absence of light seemed the most natural to him. Almost comforting.
What am I? Talon wondered. But said nothing as darkness cloaked them like a heavy shroud.
Perhaps had he been less reticent, less frightened, he might have sensed what next approached them and warned them of it before it struck.
Thirty-one
I sat through Hell’s darkest moment with my senses flung wide open, screamingly acute. But even then it was as if I were blind. I could smell—that distinctive tang of demons, a sensing more psychic than physical. I could hear—the wind blowing, the leaves rustling. But I could not see. Even my highly acute eyes could not pierce this utter blackness. I could have also sensed movement, but there was none. Ruric sat unmoving, and even Hari remained still in the outer perimeter. But Talon … I only detected Talon because he sat right next to me, so close that I could feel the warmth of his skin. His presence, though, that distinct feel of another’s force brushing against your own, dimmed. Disappeared for a brief moment. I almost reached out my hand to him, to touch him and reassure myself that he was still there beside me, when I felt that faint presence return once more to him. Had I imagined it, that absence? That brief instant when he had been gone? The question hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back, not wanting to ask it in the hearing of the others. And I could not risk erecting the cone of silence around us to speak for fear of how it would affect Nico, our third.
So we sat in silence, letting time slowly crawl by until the gray rim of Sumera, our first moon, crept reluctantly over the edge of the land and shed its first dim rays, casting us once more in faint light.
Most people equate darkness with danger, but it is not always so. Danger can strike at anytime. It did so now when the tension had passed and we thought ourselves safe.
The ground groaned and trembled, surging wildly beneath us as if the solid soil was fluid water. I had only a moment to see the alarm in Ruric’s craggy face. To hear him shout, “Run!”
I did. Or at least tried to. I grabbed Talon’s arm and rolled us backward, away from the heaving ground. Before I gained my footing, the earth broke where we had sat just a moment ago, and a giant gaping mouth with sharp serrated teeth broke through the soil.
It was a Gordicean, a massive wormlike creature. But like most of the things that existed down here in Hell, it was much bigger than a worm, and had sharp teeth. And it ate meat instead of dirt. It was a fully mature male, denoted by the long deadly spikes rimming its head and neck. With a trumpeting cry, it thrashed its giant head to the side, smashing the ground near where Ruric stood. The spikes missed him by mere inches. The smooth, wrinkled hide of the creature’s neck actually brushed the demon’s leg for a moment on the jerky upstroke. It heaved back up and down again in a fast whiplike motion, trying to find Ruric. To either pummel him with its body or pierce him with its deadly spear points. Ruric rolled and the creature followed him for two more ground-thudding strikes. Two hair-raising near misses that occurred in such quick, battering succession, that Ruric had no time to spring to his feet, only to keep rolling.
“Here,” I shouted, then leaped with my hand locked tight around Talon’s arm. The ground trembled and shook as the blind Gordicean turned its attention to us, alerted by my call, smashing the area we had just sprung from. Our feet touched the ground and I sprung us into the air again as the air whooshed behind us, the ground trembling from another body-ramming strike and the resonating roar of the hungry beast’s angry cry.
When we touched aground again, Talon stumbled and took us down. I desperately rolled us, heavy battering thuds rocking the ground in our wake, heaving the earth beneath us, showering us with sprays of rock and clods of dirt.
With Talon and I entangled, I could not roll us as fast as Ruric alone had been able to move. The Gordicean came closer to us with each striking attack. It thrashed itself again and the ring of spikes sank into the ground, missing my leg by a palm’s reach. Had I stretched out my hand, I could have touched it. Talon cried out in fear and the creature jerked its spikes free of the ground and rose up above us.
As it reared to strike, something sprang atop its head. Something dark, with skin bronzed. A clawed hand struck down with a force that made the creature shudder and give a fierce, bellowing cry. It heaved and shook its massive body above us, trying to dislodge its rider. Thick powerful hands suddenly grabbed us and tossed us out from beneath the beast, sending us flying in the air. I had a glimpse of Ruric’s fierce face, his familiar ugliness almost beautiful to me; it had been he who had thrown us. He stood below the giant worm creature, and above him, perched atop the Gordicean, riding it like a wild bronc, was Hari.
We hit the ground with jarring force and rolled. Coming to our feet almost at the same time, Talon and I sprinted away from the thrashing beast. But his legs were longer than mine now, and this boy could move. It was he who gripped me and pulled me along now, so fast that my feet barely touched the ground. When we’d gained enough distance, he stopped, and we turned back to watch the ensuing battle.
Hari had shifted into his demon beast shape, which meant that he’d doubled his size and tripled his weight. But even then, he seemed a tiny thing on top of the Gordicean. Hari lifted his curved talons and plunged them deep into the creature’s head where the braincase was located. It shuddered and screamed with a rage-filled, echoing cry. With a sudden dipping maneuver, it relinquished its attempt to dislodge its demon rider, and smashed its head and body down on the ground instead, twisting and rolling on the rocky soil, trying to flatten the demon with its weight instead. Hari hung on, gripping the twisting, giant worm despite the punishment his body took.
Down below, Ruric had shifted also. If he was massive before, he had to be even more so now. But from afar, he seemed almost doll-like next to the enormous creature. He was a deadly doll, though. Blood the color of fermented grapes spurted out from where Ruric hacked at the giant worm, cutting it almost in half. He continued to slash and rip at the creature as it writhed and twisted on the ground, with less force and strength now. It was in its death throes. But Hari wasn’t happy with letting it die slowly. He sank his talons into the creature’s skull once more and gave a massive heave that strained his bulky muscles. The skull cracked open with a loud splintering sound, and those clawed hands reached down inside and pulled out the creature’s brain, a wet, shiny, oblong mass the size of a watermelon. With a last blasting cry, the Gordicean stopped writhing, stopped moving. It gave one giant convulsive shudder, then stilled. Ruric continued to hack away at it down below.
“Is it dead?” Talon asked.
“Yes.”
With a final powerful slash, R
uric severed the body into two pieces. At the head, sitting triumphantly atop his vanquished foe, Hari began to drink from the cracked skull, the bloody brain he had ripped out dangling from his claws. Below, Ruric sliced open the chest, sank his arm deep down almost to his armpit. Squishy noises were heard as he rooted around. A few more wet sounds, and he pulled out a foot-long organ.
“What’s that?” Talon whispered.
“The heart.” I watched as Ruric sank his fangs into his prize. Heard the wet slurp as he gulped down heart’s blood, his face totally savage, as beastly as the creature he fed upon. His eyes glowed red, as did mine, I knew.
I watched them feast. To tear into the flesh after they were done drinking the blood. Savage, fierce creatures, no different than I.
“Do you want to join them?” Talon asked.
I shuddered. “No. I did not shift. Nor had I fought. I do not need to replenish energy lost in battle. Besides, it is their kill.” I sat on the ground, with Talon beside me. The Floradëur was braver than I would have been in his place, surrounded by this realm’s most ruthless predators. We patiently waited until our demon guards were done sating their bloodlust and replenishing their energy.
I rested my head on bent knees and closed my eyes, knowing that the other wild creatures here would wait until the ones who had brought down the prey were finished eating their fill. We had a short time, at least, before other animals moved in.
I felt a shimmer of power as Ruric and Hari shifted back. Heard cloth ripping as they tore off their ruined clothes. Wet splashes as they washed themselves free of the blood, and dressed in new clothes. Then no more sound. I sensed their approach. Felt their thrumming energy, battle-fresh, strong and vital.
“You should drink some of its blood,” Hari said.
“No.” I opened my eyes to see Hari and Ruric standing before me, and discreetly assessed them. They appeared calm, their eyes no longer hazed red.