by Ann Aguirre
“Chance?”
“Yeah?” His speech still sounded muffled, as if he hadn’t quite unstuck his lips completely.
“Did he put a manacle on your wrist?”
“No.”
“Greydusk?”
“Yes, I have one.” The demon sounded remarkably composed. “I can’t touch any of my extra skills.”
So that was the catch. If I chose Greydusk, he would be au naturel. Since I didn’t know who or what he’d be fighting, it might be the same as a death sentence. Knowing I’d as good as executed my only ally would certainly work on my state of mind, making it easier to break me down the line. I understood the Saremon mage’s thought process all too well.
“Let me fight,” Chance said.
“You don’t even know what you’ll be up against.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re that confident in your skills?” I asked.
“I’ll fight for you as well,” Greydust put in, before Chance could answer me.
Great. So they were both willing to die on my orders. And that made up my mind. I sat bound, in silence, until the minion returned a long while later. Outside the door, I heard Oz’s voice, murmuring instructions in demontongue, but I couldn’t understand the words.
I could translate, the demon queen offered.
Go for it.
It was like she slipped the soundtrack into my head because the conversation cut in right away, midstream. “…and under no circumstances permit any of them to leave the compound alive.”
“Yes, sir.”
“After her companions die, take her to the labs and bind her beside her father.”
It took all my self-control not to react. I cut a look at Greydusk, and he inclined his head, indicating he understood. Both he and Chance were doomed unless we came up with an alternate plan.
Then the door swung inward, revealing Oz and his chief lackey. The mage grinned in delight, as if I were a clever monkey for maneuvering into a sitting position with my arms bound behind my back. Truth be told, it hadn’t been the easiest thing I ever did.
Oz rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the great show to come. “Tell me, then, have you decided?”
“I have.”
“Who will stand as your champion?”
Chance leaned into me, demanding my favor. Greydusk sat still and quiet. Ready, I thought.
I smiled. “I’ll fight for my own honor.”
“Corine!”
Ignoring Chance, I waited to see how the mage would respond. “This is…highly irregular. Do you not wish to enjoy the entertainment I’ve provided before we get down to grimmer business?”
By which I had no doubt he meant drilling my brain or making me drink more weird potions. “I’ll pass.”
“You are a most unusual queen.”
I like this, Ninlil said.
“Remove the cuff.”
Oz shook his head. “No, I won’t be doing that until you’re safely in the arena, where protective wards prevent you from smiting any of the spectators.”
“I had to try.”
“Understood.”
“You won’t touch my people,” I said with deceptive calm. “If you do, you’ll regret it. Not for a minute or for an hour, but you’ll pay for an eternity.”
“As your father has,” Oz returned in a conversational tone.
I didn’t let the implication rattle me. “Then you know precisely what I mean and I needn’t spell it out for you.”
The mage cocked his head, considering my sincerity, and I let a fraction of Ninlil’s malice slip. He took a reflexive step back before replying, “I do, yes.” He turned to his lackey. “Confine the males here. The door is to be secured and none are to tamper with them in the Binder’s absence.”
“Corine, no.” Chance gazed at me, eyes imploring.
I smiled at him and let the guard haul me to my feet. I love you, I mouthed. And it was true. He had claimed my heart first and now he had it in his keeping again.
As they led me away, he thrashed against his bonds and screamed for me in such raw, agonized tones that it nearly broke my resolve. Greydusk tried to calm him, but we were too far away for me to make out the words. I heard the turmoil until the mincing steps of my chained feet carried me out of earshot.
That’s not normal, I thought.
It’s a combination of love and compulsion, Ninlil told me.
Compulsion?
I didn’t do it on purpose. It’s part of the royal aura.
So he’s…bound to you?
Us, she corrected. He is our consort. Part of that bond means he’d die to keep us from harm. As first male, he is imprinted with the imperative to protect.
Greydusk had tried to explain, but I hadn’t understood the depth and breadth of it. Before I could process what the hell this meant in normal relationship terms—if I was ever to have such a thing again—Oz stopped outside a set of double doors. They were crafted of a dark, scarred metal that looked like it would be impervious to fire, acid, and frost. The outward dents said unspeakable things had attacked from the other side and never broken them.
“This is where we part company. My aide, Craven, will escort you from here.” Oz touched two fingers to his brow just beneath the vestigial horns, in a mocking salute. “I will be cheering for you, Binder. I’d prefer a live specimen to a postmortem dissection, but these little wagers make life interesting, don’t you agree?”
“Indisputably,” I purred.
The queen surged forth as the mage hurried away. I laughed lightly, mockingly, and then turned to Craven, arching an aristocratic brow. It was odd thinking of my face in those terms, watching as if I were a little bird on her shoulder.
Craven grabbed my arm again, and the queen shook him off. “I will flay you alive if you touch me again without permission.”
The goon swallowed, his throat working visibly, and then he said quietly, “This way, Your Majesty. Please pardon my disrespect.”
Damn. I could get used to this.
He unlocked the double doors, waited for me to step inside, and then added, “With your permission, I’ll remove the dampener cuff and your bonds.”
“Go ahead.”
With tentative hands, he did so, and then shut the door between us, as if I would slam a lethal spell into his skull the first chance I got. And Ninlil was thinking about it, but she decided to save her energy for the coming battle. I rubbed my wrists, bent and massaged my ankles to get full circulation back. You never knew when coordination would come in handy.
Thus warmed up, I strode down the narrow, sloping corridor. It was dark and quiet as I went toward the light ahead, where the space widened into the arena. Once I emerged, I saw that arena was, perhaps, an overstatement. This was more of a pit with stone stadium seating above and around it. The sunken fighting area spanned twenty by twenty meters, not too much space in which to run.
We won’t need to, Ninlil told me.
As I spun in a slow circle to take stock of my surroundings, people—or I should say demons—filed into the chamber above. They spoke in low whispers, and they were all Saremon. Good to know the other castes weren’t involved in this.
I will destroy them, the queen said. They will not profit. They will not survive this day’s work.
It was easy to sling vengeful promises when we couldn’t do a damn thing but what we were told. She settled then, her anger chilling to an icy resolve that fortified my own. With her help, I opened to my witch sight to assess the wards Oz had sworn would prevent me from striking the audience. They wove in dark, beautiful patterns along the walls.
For a moment, Ninlil admired their artistry and then her sigh filled my head. We must fight—and win. Then strike as they come to release us. If we lie in wait outside the doors, we can take a whole squadron.
Will you have enough in reserve after the match? I wondered.
Certainty filled my head and lent me confidence. I squared my shoulders and waited for the en
emy.
On the other side of the pit, another set of doors opened. The ground trembled beneath the weight of whatever was chugging down the tunnel toward me. My opponent stormed into sight, and while I assessed it, Ninlil whispered in demontongue, sparking a handful of darklight as if it were a snowball. This thing was easily twice the height of a Hazo and half again as wide. It had scaly black hide, thick enough to excite admiration in a rhino, and its teeth jutted through its thin lower lip. Extra-long arms gave it an apelike appearance, but its fingers ended in razor-sharp talons.
There was no announcement; the monster just charged. As it ran for us, Ninlil unleashed her first spell. The darklight slammed the creature full in the chest, rocking it, but the magick rippled away without effect. Magick resistance, Ninlil said. This could be bad. Since I didn’t have a weapon and I had little combat experience, yeah, that would be an understatement.
The beast swung its arm like a crossbeam. My reaction time wouldn’t have been fast enough to avoid decapitation, but the demon queen took over, rolling me smoothly beneath the raking claws. I came up behind it in a half crouch, shaking from head to toe. I stepped back then, because if we were going to win this—if I was to survive to wreak havoc in this compound—I had to trust her.
In the time it took for the monster to come about, Ninlil readied another spell. This time, whispering her command words, she coiled the darkness into what looked like a snare, and it snapped tight around the thing’s calves as it took a step toward me. The magick didn’t dissipate, and the beast overbalanced. It caught itself on its overlong arms, claws digging into the stone, but I was already running. There wasn’t room to kite, but I had no chance close up. Which meant the longer I stayed away from it, the longer I kept breathing. I might have a demon queen in my head, throwing spells, but my body was all too mortal.
I whirled, darklight flaring from my fingertips as Ninlil voiced the words of power. She was casting so fast I didn’t even know what she was doing until the magick hit. A patch of black slammed into the creature’s head, wreathing it in shadow. Belatedly, I realized this was my mother’s blindness spell, adapted for demonic use. The monster roared in outrage and spun—rather, it tried. With its legs bound, it could only hop.
We need a weapon.
She conveyed to me that her spells couldn’t kill it, only immobilize it, and they wouldn’t last forever. I skimmed the walls and found a spear with a broken haft at the far corner, presumably left from another match. There were bloodstains in here and bits of debris. Urgency sent me sprinting across as the monster struggled with the dispersing magick. With a scream of rage, it chased me blindly. I zigzagged as much as the small space permitted, and it couldn’t hear or smell well enough to place me.
I snagged the weapon on the run, and splintered wood gouged my palms. Ignoring the pain, I doubled back and came in low. As Ninlil chanted up another blindness spell, I struck, stabbing the thing up through the groin. Its claws came down, and only the demon queen saved me from complete evisceration. With her preternatural reflexes, I twirled and took the blow down my right side. Blood gushed from both wounds, the monster’s and mine, but I hadn’t killed it.
Join with me, she whispered. Some of yours, some of mine. We are stronger together. If you fall here, Binder, your companions die as well.
No. But the refusal felt shaky. The demon queen withdrew, leaving me to my own devices. Fear streamed through me like whitewater rapids, drowning me. My wound throbbed twice as hard, twice as hot, and my whole body trembled.
I slid sideways, but not in time to avoid a blow on the backswing. She made me absorb the full impact, and I tumbled backward ten feet, landing hard on my injured side. The Saremon crowd shrieked, scenting blood. They thought I was done.
We’ll both die, she said. Is that what you want?
Do something about those claws. I’ll…think about it.
Ninlil’s agreement came at once. Cloudbind.
Then she was speaking the words, driving the magick, as I surged to my feet with renewed energy. Lowering my head to charge, I wheeled toward the beast with a feint and wrested my broken weapon from its crotch. I screamed as I pulled because the motion wrenched my wounded side, and the monster raked at me, but its claws were covered in darklight that offered a magickal buffer. The blunt trauma hurt like hell and I saw stars, but at least it didn’t take my head off. Another hit like that, though, and I was done.
Let me in, or we both fall. Last chance, Corine Solomon. Even my power is not infinite. Will you let them die of your fear, your weakness?
Oh, no. Chance. Greydusk. Shannon. At last, my will chipped away, I accepted the unthinkable bargain. Yes. Do it.
The queen threw her strength into mine, and we merged. I had all her experience, all her power at my fingertips, and the spear pulled free in a bloody fountain. Ichor spewed from the wound. Again, I thought, and I drove the weapon into the vein on the creature’s thigh. It could die. It would die. Even with my wounds, riding the royal aura, I spun away from the injured beast. I came up behind it and stabbed twice more. Back of the thigh. Hamstring. Its chest was too armored for me to penetrate, but it was softer down low. Its sight came back too late. I stabbed. Again. Again. Until it bled from ten separate wounds. The audience was screaming, but it sounded distant, as if through a wall of glass. I didn’t care. All that mattered was that this thing died.
Final thrust.
I hit a vein and the black blood spurted like oil, slicking the stone beneath my feet. The monster staggered, moaning, a piteous sound, but there was no kindness in me. I was the demon queen, and I had risen.
No Mercy
There was no time to rest.
They’d arrive soon to escort me back to my cell and then kill my companions. That meant I had to be ready to fight. I had magick to spare; it coiled, lustrous, around my hands like a drowsy snake. I didn’t posture for the surprised crowd, most of whom had expected to watch me die. Instead I ran like hell for the doors where I’d come in. I didn’t expect to break them down. But they had to come and get me, didn’t they? I smiled in delicious anticipation. I whispered the words in demontongue that cloaked me in living darkness, a shield against the suckerpunch of a spell Oz had dropped on me before.
He wouldn’t get lucky again.
The Saremon were weak. They’d relied on lazy tricks for too many centuries, being too much mage and not enough demon. I would destroy them all.
A voice boomed. “Stand back from the doors.”
Like that’s going to work.
When they banged open, ten Saremon grunts awaited me. Unfortunately, they couldn’t find me for the dark fog filling the corridor with every step I took. I laughed softly, seductively, and they spun. I whispered and trailed another spell into the air as gracefully as if I had been born for this moment.
The mania set in at once. One guard grabbed another, and the second retaliated. They swung their weapons in a blood-frenzied madness. I picked a path through the carnage like the ballerina of death, and then paused on the other side to watch. Perfect. They fought until one by one, they all hit the ground. Smiling, I twirled my broken spear and retraced my steps toward the cell where they’d put my people.
Darkness drifted in my wake as the spell died away. Footsteps pounded the halls, but they came from some distance away, guards from the other entrance. It would be too late for them to catch me and once I had reinforcements, we would level this place. There would be nothing left of the Saremon caste when I finished here. For good reason, they’d feared my coming, but when they interfered with my destiny and harmed one of my blood, they sealed their fate. Excitement quickened my steps. The sooner I released Chance and Greydusk, the sooner my vengeance could begin.
I passed a number of cells; some held occupants. With a flick of my wrist, I called the sleepy demon magick that sang in my ears like ocean. It was…lovely. For the first time in my life, I felt whole. The darklight drifted into the locks and turned the tumblers. Beautiful sound, freedom. Th
e doors popped open and the prisoners of the Saremon stepped out into the hallways, some injured, some fearful, others bristling with wrath. As one, they stopped. Stared. And they fell to their knees en masse. It was good they recognized me, for I had been gone a long while.
“You know me?” I said.
“Yes, my queen.” The awed chorus sent a pleased shiver down my spine.
“You have my leave to demolish this place. Your enemy is the Saremon. Their whole caste has become Xaraz.” In those words, I exiled the mages of Saremon, stripped them of rights and rank. Henceforth, they would be reviled and driven beyond the Vortex to cower in the shantytown with the other wretches. “Kill as many as you please, so long as they are Saremon. Touch no others inside these walls. If they are not Saremon, they belong to me.”
The assembled host whispered, reverently, “Yes, my queen.”
“Afterward, carry the message to the rest of Xibalba that I am ascended. Go. Do my will.”
And they did.
I continued down the hall to where they had confined Chance and Greydusk. The door stood open, but they did not emerge. If Oz had kept his word, they had not been tampered with, which meant they were still bound. I stepped into the cell.
“You’re alive,” Chance breathed. And then he froze, cocking his head. Sorrow surged from him in a tangible wave, so thick I could taste it. “You—you’re—”
“My queen,” Greydusk supplied in an awed whisper.
I inclined my head. It was not the time to talk about such things. I knelt and cut their bonds. With a whispered command, I made the dampener drop off the Imaron’s wrist. The demon rubbed his arm in quiet gratitude.
“We should get the hell out of here,” Chance said, low.
I smiled. “After.” He cut me a sharp look, and the echo of the human woman I had been stayed my hand. When I said, some of you, some of me, I hadn’t told her that as the stronger, older personality, my will would often be dominant. She wasn’t destroyed in our merger, but it would take her a long time to fight back to the surface again, apart from the occasional impulse.