roar. He exploded from the bed, lifting her high into the air by the throat. Pillows and blankets scattered and the wine carafe shattered on the floor, as he sprang across the room, slamming her to the stone floor near the fireplace.
“Devil’s whore!” he shrieked, pressing on her neck, collapsing her throat with all his strength. “We both die, together, tonight!”
She could not speak, but she mouthed one word: “Anything.”
“More deceiving words,” he growled, dragging her toward the fireplace. “You will burn, witch. Gaze upon your hell.”
He rolled her onto her stomach and seized her neck, forcing her closer to the heat, attempting to press her face into the orange coals. But suddenly she found the physical strength to resist him. Her arms became like steel and all movement stopped. They both were frozen together, hovering before the fire place, her face inches from the coals.
“Your death is not imminent.” She grit her teeth as the heat cooked her face. “Miacnon controls the infection. It will leave you if he wills it.”
“Why would the Angel of Disease infect me one moment, only to cure me the next?” he asked.
“Spare me and he will spare you,” she said. “Miacnon will bless you. Miacnon will change you. Anything your heart desires.”
“Anything?” he asked. “From drinking poison?”
“It might not be poison you drank,” she explained. “It might not be a disease within you. It might be knowledge, or strength, or wisdom. It can be anything you ask. It might be omniscience.”
“Omniscience?”
“Tell me and it can be so,” she said. “Anything your heart desires.”
He stopped struggling with her, stopped trying to burn her face. But he kept her pinned to the floor, and he didn’t remove his hands from her neck.
“I will tell you what my heart desires,” he said. “It is not enough that your demon god spare my life. I want him to aid me in taking vengeance upon my wife and her toy.”
“I will poison them for you,” she promised. “Miacnon will infect them with magical disease, and together we will watch them suffer the same fate they planned for you, my lord.”
“Do you swear an oath?” he asked. “If I spare you now, do you promise to give me your aid?”
“I promise,” she swore. “I will do as you wish. Miacnon will do as you wish.”
He released his grip on her neck, pulling her away from the fireplace. He rolled her onto her back, holding her down by her wrists, gazing deeply into her eyes, searching for something he could trust.
“Miacnon will do this, but at what price?” he asked. “Surely such a promise comes at a cost.”
“The Angel of Disease is offering your life,” she answered. “Do you think this offer has no value? Do you believe your life is worth nothing?”
“My life is everything to me,” he said. “But it means nothing without my soul.”
“Your soul?” she laughed. “The Angel of Disease has no interest in something so puny as your soul.”
“Then what does he desire of me?” he asked. “My wealth? My lands? My castle?”
“All of it,” she answered. “And your wife.”
“My wife?”
“And her lover,” the woman said. “And your soldiers. All your subjects.”
“My people?” he asked.
“All of them,” she said. “Miacnon does not desire your soul. What he desires is your kingdom.”
“That is not my choice to make,” the man said. “I cannot give up what is not mine.”
“You need not give up anything,” the woman said. “You need only open your kingdom to Miacnon. Invite him in, and he will take as he wishes.”
“He will take my people?” the man asked. “All of them?”
“You will be healed,” the woman promised. “You will have vengeance upon your wife.”
“And if I refuse?” the man asked. “If I kill you?”
“Then no one can stop the disease within you,” the woman said. “The price you pay will be dire. First, your health. Then, your life ...”
“Then my soul,” the man said.
“Victory would be won by your treacherous wife and her lover,” the woman said. “Your kingdom would fall into their hands.”
“I’d die first,” the man stated. “I’d rather see all I worked for burning in hell than let it fall under her sway.”
The woman smiled. “Then your choice is clear.”
“This is no choice you offer,” the man said. “It is blackmail.”
“Yet it brings great reward,” the woman said. “Anything your heart desires.”
He hated her for what she’d done, but couldn’t help but admire her audacity. “My lover,” he said, a smile forced upon his lips.
“My lord,” she said, smiling back at him.
He thought for long moments, staring into her eyes. She stared back, waiting, her lips curled into a smirk. He was suddenly reminded that they were both naked, two sweaty bodies pressed together. His rage cooled, and another fire was reignited within him. He released her wrists and began to run his hands all over her body.
“I do not wish for knowledge, or strength, or wisdom,” the man said. “For the cost of my kingdom, I demand more.”
She returned the favor, rubbing his back and neck. She parted her legs, wrapping them around his waist.
“Name it,” she said, kissing his neck.
“Eternal life,” the man said. “Miacnon may have my kingdom. But only if I rule over it forever. And my wife must know this. As she and her lover die of their magical affliction, they must know what their plotting has brought. Eternal death for them. Eternal life for me.”
So intent were they upon each other, they didn’t notice the consequences of their earlier struggle. Across the room, the crackle of flames could be heard.
“Eternal life,” the woman moaned.
“Together, forever, you and I, king and queen for all time.”
“Anything your heart desires,” the woman said.
“Even eternal life?”
“Anything,” she promised. “Even eternal life.”
Near to the bed, a lit cigar lay on the floor among a woman’s underclothes. For many minutes, the cigar only smoldered and smoked, but now a fire burned.
“The Angel of Disease has heard your wishes,” the woman said.
The gossamer fabric ignited, the flames quickly engulfed the underclothes and spread to some blankets.
“And he accepts,” the woman said. “You will be granted eternal life.”
Scattered among the blankets, a handful of teardrop tulips were threatened by the encroaching fire.
“Then your demon master may take as he wishes,” the man stated. “My kingdom is his.”
He smashed his lips against hers, forcing his tongue into her mouth. The kiss went on for many moments, long, wet and hot. They separated to take a breath ...
“It is done?” he asked.
Her smile was full of life, her eyes no longer sly or guileful, but bright with triumph.
“It is done.”
And the teardrops died, their white petals turning to blackened curls.
He kissed her again, for just as long, and just as passionately. They separated almost violently, with a loud smacking of lips.
He threw his head back and laughed maniacally. “It is done!”
He pulled her away from the fireplace and lifted her into the air, carrying her back toward the bed. As he did this, the flames continued to spread across the floor, filling the room with smoke, devouring everything in sight. When he reached the bed, he threw her down upon it.
“There is only one way to consummate this bargain,” he said, climbing on top of her.
She shrieked with joy, and they laughed together, making love, and making praise to the Angel of Disease.
The fire continued to burn all around, destroying the room and surrounding the bed. The heat seared their skin, but they continued in their passion without rega
rd for the danger around them. They had no reason to fear the flames that consumed their bed, just as they had no reason to fear the flames that would soon consume the kingdom.
They were going to live forever.
Originally written as a single chapter in the Wither the Waking World novel The Death You Deserve, Betrayal is a glimpse into the origins of the cursed land of Illengaard, known as the Kingdom of Teardrops.
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About the Author: Jonathan Techlin lives in Kaukauna, Wisconsin with his wife and two daughters. He enjoys reading, traveling, and following the Green Bay Packers. His other works include The Death You Deserve, a Wither the Waking World novel, and Lost My Jock, a memoir. He is currently at work completing the second full-length novel in the Wither the Waking World universe.
This book is dedicated to Mom. You always believed. I love you. I still miss you.
Thanks to my brother Mike for letting write on his computer.
Thanks to Dad, Rick, and Adam
Very special thanks to Jennifer, Anna, and Lucy for being beautiful.
Betrayal Page 2