The Succubus

by Megan Derr

  "You're a dumbass," he finally managed.

  "That's rich coming from you," Nerek retorted. He rubbed a gloved thumb over Kohar's lips, then with a rough noise stepped away. "I have to go find the bastard before he gets away with this. Update Bedros."

  "Be careful," Kohar replied, mind still spinning with realizations and the burning memory of that kiss.

  Looking entirely fed up with the world, Nerek stormed off. Kohar hastened to follow.

  "Where is Solla?" Nerek barked as he reached the main hall of the barracks.

  "He left right after he came out of your office, said you were sending him to investigate something to do with the demon. Must be nearly an hour ago by now."

  Nerek's bellow of rage echoed through the hall, and every soldier in the room rose and stood at attention, absorbing his anger and worry and making it their own. Like they always did, because they would follow Nerek into the darkest Regions. "Where did he go?"

  "Across the border," said a guard from the farthest corner of the room. "I saw him when I was on watch, but when I asked they said he'd gone on your orders."

  Cursing, Nerek ordered the soldiers to follow him and headed off, likely bound for the stables.

  Kohar headed back to the main keep, where Bedros was sitting at a table by the fire, eating slowly as he went about the grim work of filling out and signing death certificates for all the soldiers and servants Solla had killed.

  He looked up at the sound of footsteps. "Nerek?"

  "Alive."

  "Thank the gods," Bedros said, and looked for a moment like he might actually cry from relief. He set his quill aside and sat up straight. "So what's going on now?"

  "He went after Solla, who is trying to flee across the border. Hopefully he'll manage it, though I don't know if he'll bring Solla back dead or alive."

  Bedros lifted one shoulder. "Either is fine, frankly. Dead would be cheaper. Alive would be less paperwork. Are you both all right?"

  "Fine," Kohar said quietly, and sat when Bedros motioned he should. "How long have I been blithely unaware of Nerek's feelings?"

  Bedros let out a sharp laugh. "Finally got there did you? Did he say something?"

  "After a fashion." Kohar didn't touch his fingers to his lips, but only barely. In between the frets about Solla, the horrible weather Nerek and his soldiers were fighting to get to the backstabbing bastard, his thoughts flitted around that kiss. Just how badly he wanted another.

  Soft chuckles drew him from his thoughts. "Well, I'm happy the two of you have finally sorted that out. Another month of tension and obliviousness and I was going to lock the two of you in the pantry until some sort of resolution was achieved."

  Kohar rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing I made my fancy new ink for nothing. I'll do the spell anyway to be sure, but if I had to guess, I'd say he destroyed the remaining runes he had, and without another one to jump to, the demon is gone."

  "Well, I'm sorry you wasted all that time and effort, but I prefer this to having to locate, trap, and expel a demon."

  "Agreed."

  "Eat something before you fall over, Kohar." Bedros shoved the plate of food he'd been ignoring across the table, and Kohar took it gladly, too exhausted and hungry to argue over propriety and other stupid rules.

  The wait was agonizing. Kohar went back to his room to try and work on the spell, but after he screwed up three times on just the first line, gave up entirely and returned to the great hall to wait with Bedros.

  That just got him a smirk. "He'll be fine."

  "I know," Kohar said irritably. "I'm not fretting over Nerek."

  "Uh huh. So who kisses better: Nerek or Solla?"

  Kohar gave him a withering look and didn't reply.

  Bedros just snickered.

  "Rider!"

  The guard's voice cut through the castle, and everyone went still from surprise for a moment.

  Then they all rushed to the courtyard as Bedros called for the gates to be opened.

  Who in the world would be coming to see them at this hour? Was it one of Nerek's soldiers, was something wrong? Were they on their way back and this was just the scout?

  He watched, shivering in the cold, as the man dismounted clumsily, probably from being half frozen. Then the man threw back his hood and looked around, and Kohar gaped a moment before racing across the ward. "Taniel, what in the Regions are you doing here?" He grabbed Taniel's shoulders, shook him hard, and then pulled him into a hug.

  "Did you not get my letter?"

  "Of course I got your letter, though it hasn't done much good in the end."

  Taniel's face fell. "What do you mean?"

  "Inside, inside," Kohar replied, and they all fled back into the relative warmth of the keep. Once they were settled by the fire, and reasonably thawed, he related all that had transpired over the past day.

  "I'm so sorry," Taniel said as he finished. "I had hoped my letter would reach you in time, since there was no way I would be able to in this stupid weather."

  "It's not your fault."

  "But it is," Taniel replied, looking near to tears. "All of this is my stupid fault. I never should have—" He broke off and stared glumly at his hands, looking worn and broken.

  "Never should have what?" Kohar asked. "Tell us the whole story, Tani."

  Taniel sighed and accepted the cup of cider a servant handed him. After several swallows, he finally started speaking. "His name is Vosgi. He and I were…close." Taniel's frown deepened, bitterness and exhaustion washing over him. "We both have the licenses to do high level magic. Vosgi wanted to go even further. To my shame, I helped him with some of the earliest experiments because I admit I liked the thrill of doing magic nobody else in the country had ever managed. But Vosgi…he kept going, moved into the darker stuff. I begged him to stop. He wouldn't listen. I finally confessed everything to our superiors. I was cast out, but Vosgi… Vosgi resisted, killed people trying to escape." His hand went to his side reflexively, the way Nerek’s did when some of his old wounds acted up.

  Kohar pursed his lips at the gesture but let it go for the moment.

  "They finally caught him, imprisoned him, and I thought that would be the end of the matter. I was packing my things when he escaped, killing still more people. I wrote the letter to you, then headed here as quickly as I could. But injury and weather held me back, and I guess Vosgi managed to get here well ahead of me."

  "Injury? Are you all right now? What happened? What did that bastard do? Do you need healing? When did you last rest?" Kohar demanded.

  Taniel chuckled and smiled fondly. "Still a hundred questions at once with you, Kohi. He stabbed me, but not well. Then on our travels my horse slipped, threw me, cost me a broken arm. I had to remain in camp while it healed. After that, it was snow, snow, and more snow." He sighed and finished his cider.

  Kohar immediately swapped his full cup for Taniel's empty one and cast him a warning look when he tried to protest.

  Into the silence, Bedros said, "Pardon me if I'm pointing out something awkward, but is there a reason you two look nothing alike? If you'd not told me you were brothers, I never would have thought you were related."

  Kohar and Taniel laughed, and Kohar said, "He's adopted. He was abandoned as a child, we think. My parents found him on the streets, just days from death, and took him in. By the time he was all healed up, they couldn't bear to part with him."

  Taniel gave him a look, but Kohar ignored it. If he wanted to share the full, actual story of how he'd come to join their family, he could later. For now, the simplified version their parents had always gone with would suffice.

  "I'm glad you found a happy home," Bedros said. "Your hair is beautiful. I've never seen such a perfect shade of gold."

  "Thank you," Taniel said, reaching up to touch where it was still bound up in a tidy bun, secured with a plain, wooden hair stick. "The monks wanted me to cut it off, but I never completed my vows, so they couldn't make me yet. I never really was cut out for the life; I just wanted t
o study the magic." He set the cider aside, and his hand curled into his fist in his lap. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault—"

  "No," Bedros said, in a commanding tone Kohar rarely heard—the voice of a duke, a lord of the realm, master of the castle. "The only one to blame here is this contemptible Vosgi who is lashing out like a petulant, spoiled child who didn't get his way. You did the right thing in confessing, turning both of you in, knowing it would cost you dearly. He is the only one to blame for his actions. Do not take on his guilt; that's not your burden to carry."

  Taniel stared at him a moment, then gave a jerky nod. "Thank you, Your Grace."

  "Bah. Everyone may as well call me Bedros. It's not as though we really stand much on ceremony around this old place. Nerek and Kohar are more the lords of the keep than me. I just do the paperwork and the taxes."

  "Ugh, taxes." Kohar wrinkled his nose. "I really wish—"

  "Riders!"

  He rose and dashed across the hall to the doors, where guards barely got them open in time to avoid his crashing right into them.

  Outside, coming into the ward just as the lamplighters were finishing up the torches there, Nerek came in at the head of a group of ten soldiers—four of them securing a bruised and battered Solla.

  "You caught him!" Kohar said. "Ha! I knew the bastard wouldn't be able to escape you!"

  Nerek seemed startled, and then pleased, by the words, smiling briefly at Kohar before he once more became all business. "Your Grace, I've captured the fiend responsible for murdering our people. He has been thoroughly searched for any remaining magical items, though I advise our mage-in-residence look him over as well. Are you going to leave him to a justiciar or take care of the matter yourself?"

  "I haven't decided yet. Lock him up and make sure he can't do anything stupid or dangerous. Did he have anything to say in his defense?"

  "Nothing worth repeating," Nerek said, and jerked his head at the soldiers who had Solla secured.

  Kohar scowled as they passed by. "I don't suppose I could persuade someone to punch him for me?"

  Nerek gave him an amused look. "You could punch him yourself."

  "Ugh, no. I tried punching you to wake you up," Kohar replied, shaking his poor hand. "My knuckles still hurt. I'll leave it to you soldiers."

  Nerek rolled his eyes but then spun neatly on his heel and delivered a punch to Solla's jaw that sent him tumbling to the floor with a cry of pain. Turning back, Nerek lifted a brow at Kohar. "Will that suffice?"

  "Oh, yes, that was lovely," Kohar replied, then smiled in a way he hadn't bothered to in years because there'd never been anyone he thought he could flirt with. "I'll thank you for it later."

  Of all the reactions he'd expected, Nerek's cheeks turning pink was nowhere near the list. "Shut up, mage," he groused as he stormed off, his soldiers gaping and then muffling laughter in their heavy winter gloves as they hauled Solla back to his feet and dragged him away.

  Taniel snickered. "I see you and your soldier finally got together."

  "Did everyone know except me?" Kohar asked.

  "Yes," Bedros, Taniel, and the remaining soldiers and servants replied.

  Throwing up his arms, Kohar said, "I'm going to go make certain the prisoner is secured from a magical standpoint. Taniel, pick a bedroom."

  He made his way briskly to his room first, where he pulled out spells he'd prepared not long after his arrival, and then had almost never needed. Tucking them into one of the pouches at his waist, he gathered everything else he would need and then headed back to the main keep and down the stairs to the cellar and dungeons.

  At the very back, in the only cell that didn't have a small window for air and light, Solla sat against the wall on a threadbare sleeping roll, arms folded on his bent knees. His smile was cold and derisive as he saw Kohar. "My cousin's little darling. Seducing you was pathetically easy."

  "I really wouldn't be so sure of that," Kohar replied, then pulled out the scrolls he'd carefully tucked away. Unrolling the first one, slightly larger than his hand, he braced it on the tablet he'd brought, securing it with the wood slats on each side so it would lay flat. Then he pulled out a quill and bottle of ink and wrote in the last few runes. As the spell shimmered to life, he placed his hand on it, spoke a few words of transfer, then extended his hand outward and finished the transfer spell.

  The magic struck Solla, who gasped and swore, clawing at his throat—and then gave up, settling for a hateful glare since he would not be doing any talking for several days, at which point Kohar would decide whether or not to renew the spell.

  Pulling out the next scroll, now that he could work in peace, he cast a spell that checked thoroughly for the presence of magic on an item or person. When that turned up nothing, he cast a collaring spell that further bound Solla to his cell. If he tried to escape, he'd simply pass out.

  "You're lucky Nerek didn't simply slit your throat and leave your body to freeze and then rot in the spring thaw," Kohar replied. "Enjoy your stay."

  He turned and left, and headed back outside once more and across the ward and around the side to the armory and barracks, where he assumed Nerek had gone.

  But when he reached Nerek's room, it was to find it empty. "Where's he gone?" he asked the aide who came in with a tray of food.

  "I saw him with the soldiers, preparing the bodies for the pyres."

  "Of course," Kohar replied, and motioned for the boy to go.

  At loose ends, as there was no way he was trekking back into that abysmal cold yet again, he looked over his choices and finally took a seat on the edge of Nerek's bed. Strictly speaking, Nerek had a room in the main keep that was a proper suite befitting his rank. But much like Kohar, he preferred to sleep where he worked, so he was always near to hand for emergencies.

  The crackle of the fire, the familiar muffled chaos of the armory, soon had him yawning again. Stupid Nerek had better hurry back, or Kohar would just…

  *~*~*

  "Wake up!"

  "Fuck you," Kohar grumbled, and tried to bury his head in the blankets again.

  "This is not your bed!"

  "It is now." Shoving away the hand on his shoulder, Kohar turned over, yanked the blankets back up, and tried to get warm again.

  There was muttering and sighing, more cold air as someone yanked his boots off and messed with his belt, nearly waking him completely. But then everything stilled again, mercifully, though he could still hear distant muttering and grumbling. Had he left something burning and annoyed a servant again? He didn't care.

  The bedding lifted again, letting in cold air, and Kohar cringed and whined. He was spared having to wake up and commit murder, however, by the addition of a sudden furnace to the bed. That was more like it. Turning back around, Kohar cuddled up to all the delightful, winter-banishing warmth and sunk back into sleep, chased by the sound of somebody saying his name on a long-suffering sigh.

  *~*~*

  Kohar woke overheated and with light bathing his face, neither of which was usually something he faced first thing in the morning. He stared blankly up at an unfamiliar window and ceiling. It was the clash and bang from outside that finally brought comprehension. "Why in the Regions am I sleeping in the armory?"

  "You tell me."

  Kohar yelped and sat up, shoving his hair out of his face, swearing when it promptly disobeyed him, and wrestling with it for a couple of minutes before he was finally able to scowl properly at Nerek. "Must you?"

  "Yes," Nerek replied. "You're the one who tried to steal my bed."

  "Oh, right. I was waiting for you. Why was I waiting for you?"

  "I assume it had something to do with the vindictive muting of my prisoner. Not a criticism, mind. Usually you're the nice one, though."

  Kohar swung his legs over the edge of the bed, noting absently someone had removed his boots and belt. "Sorry, I didn't actually mean to steal your bed. I hope I didn't put you on the floor or something."

  "No, I was not getting kicked out of my own d
amned bed," Nerek said, and damned if his cheeks didn't flush the barest bit. "Though I may have taken the floor if I'd known you were so clingy."

  "I am not!"

  "You are—" Nerek broke off. "I am not getting into such a stupid argument with you."

  Kohar smiled. "We've had stupider. I think—" he stopped, then sighed as his stupid hair broke free of the bun he'd tried to secure it in, spilling all around and in his face. "I'm going to shave it off, I swear to the Regions."

  "You wouldn't!" Nerek hastily stood. "Whatever. Hurry up and go back to your own room, so I can get some work done." He fled the room like he was being chased by a fire dragon, leaving Kohar gaping after him.

  And then dissolving into laughter. Captain Tough-and-Scruffy was shy.

  Smirking, Kohar gave up on his hair and focused on righting his clothes and scrounging up his boots. He was just about to leave when he spied a familiar hair comb lying on Nerek's desk. So he must have found it in the snow or the halls or wherever Kohar had lost it.

  Twisting his hair and jamming the comb into place, Kohar departed Nerek's room and headed back through the armory—ignoring the looks and smirks of the soldiers he passed.

  "Have fun last night, Master Mage?" one finally called out.

  "No," Kohar replied coolly. "Not with His Grace signing death warrants, the good Captain arresting his own cousin, and pyres I must set this evening to put our comrades upon. I fell asleep waiting to give a report. What did you think we were doing? Celebrating death and betrayal?"

  Face red with shame, everyone around him looking little better, the soldier mumbled an apology and scuttled off.

  Kohar continued on his way, returning quickly to his room to clean up and put on fresh clothes.

  Then he went to get some breakfast before he set to work on the pyres so they'd be ready that evening.

  He worked on the roof, a special pavilion at the back end of the castle meant for ceremonies and funeral pyres, since level ground was as hard to find there as a warm day. First he cast spells that would keep the area clear of snow for several hours. Then he got a few soldiers to help him haul the platforms and other supplies up and get it all arranged.