by Ann Aguirre
“I must burn their stink from my city, First,” I went on.
“First? Why’re you calling me that?”
“First male,” Greydusk explained. “You’re her consort. Be honored that she explained herself this once and did not take your head for the insolence. She is…not the woman you knew.”
Chance swallowed and then nodded. His silence hurt me because it cradled heartbreak in its depths, but beneath my need for retribution, it was a distant pain, a torch flickering in gale-force winds. With a practiced gesture, I called them to battle, and the males flanked me. I handed my makeshift weapon to Chance, still slick with demon blood, and he stared at the evidence of my conquest with a set expression.
“It was my first kill upon coming home,” I said dreamily. “I shall have that blade set in a proper haft when we finish here.”
Neither of them spoke. There was nothing they could add.
The hallway was dark and quiet; my minions had gone to do to my bidding with flattering alacrity. It wasn’t in delight at my return, however. Some of them were merely angry at the Saremon and wanted to make them bleed. So long as they touched nothing I had claimed for my own, the arrangement worked to our mutual benefit.
“We need to find our belongings and then my father,” I said.
Those words sounded odd to my ears. Part of me scoffed at the idea of a human male siring any creature so glorious as myself, but I could not permit anyone else to use him as Oz had done. Harm done against my blood was the same as injury to myself, and if I could not defend my line, then I deserved the damage.
“Can you find the creature you call Butch?” Greydusk asked.
It was an excellent suggestion; the Saremon compound had protections in place to prevent interference from the Vortex, and I was familiar enough with the dog’s life energies that I could easily seek for him. If they had left him with our things, then it would be a two-for-one solution. Closing my eyes, I built the animal in my mind’s eye, and then coiled the dark energy around the image. I whispered the right words in demontongue and then set the spell free. It soared from my brow like a raven, dipping and swooping on the shadows, rebounding off the walls, and then flitting almost out of sight. Belatedly, I signaled them to move and I ran.
The spell tried on several occasions to pass through solid walls, only to be stymied by various runes. They sparked in warning and the air stank of fresh lightning where the light died. Those moments gave me a chance to catch up and to find more passages where we could turn. This chase culminated at a storage closet near the front of the building. From inside, as we approached, came the frantic yapping of a confined animal.
Still alive. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why this filled me with ambivalence. Part of me wished the creature to the pit, and the other half felt suffused in ridiculous, impossible joy. I ignored the schizophrenic reaction as I popped the lock with a burst of magick.
Butch lunged out the door at me, growling, but his tail started to wag, and then he drew up short. His barks grew more hysterical when he sniffed at me, and then he scrambled away toward Chance, who picked him up without a word. With graceful hands, he soothed the small creature, and I spared a thought for how lovely it would be to recline in his arms later and receive that same treatment.
But first we had work to do.
“Greydusk, our bags.”
The demon complied with a small sound. He radiated pleasure, as if he had been waiting a lifetime to hear my commands. And the Imaron was, unquestionably, male—one with submissive tendencies, which made him an ideal servant. I wondered why I hadn’t been sure of that before; it seemed so obvious now.
I reclaimed my athame. The demon slung one bag over his shoulder, the colorful one that belonged to the girl I’d come to save. At the moment, I didn’t remember why I had been so alarmed at finding that she’d been taken to Sheol. My home was no more dangerous than the human realm, and even less so for the queen’s companions. Here, she would be well. Safe. Protected. Yet the same lesson must be taught to those who had stolen her. The Drinkers would be humbled too.
Chance took the other bag and stashed the dog in it. I was pleased he’d taken charge without being asked. As first male, it was his role to find ways to satisfy my needs, whatever they might be. This was a good start.
As I closed the closet door, shouts came from down the hall. Chance pulled his gloves from the bag and donned them, then he handed me back the broken spear. “This is yours,” he said softly.
I nodded.
Greydusk took a defensive position on my other side. As soon as I saw the enemy coming, I crooned their death in demontongue. The magick flowed in me like blood. I could pull it from the endless flowing river of energy beneath our feet. Here in their stronghold, the Saremon had done something impossible…and clever. They were leaching power from the Vortex and had built up a private supply that flooded the foundation itself. The rock had channels cut into it with microscopic precision, so when I gazed into the astral, I saw the dark tracery swimming through the stone.
This time Oz had sent more grunts to kill us…or capture us. Twenty, instead of ten. Unfortunately, they were low-ranking Saremon, so they didn’t have much magick. The leaders, like Oz, kept them stupid and feeble, good for nothing but frontline fodder. I watched them struggle for minor charms and fail to connect to the energy surging beneath our feet.
This will be…delightful.
“Kill them all,” I said softly.
Chance whispered and flames formed around his fists. Greydusk shifted forms, as he had done in another fight, and whirled into motion with threshing claws. My consort stayed clear, and with each blow, he set the Saremon soldiers alight. They screamed and slapped at their own clothing, their skin, and in their distraction, Greydusk gutted them. It shouldn’t have been such a slaughter.
When there were twenty corpses, I stepped lightly through the pile. “Where do you suppose they’re keeping my father?”
Greydusk considered. “Hard to say. Oz said they had been experimenting on him, so the labs would seem an obvious place to start.” He paused, as if weighing whether to warn me. “They’ll send spell casters from this point.”
“I am aware.”
“We’ll kill them even quicker,” Chance said.
“You are worthy.” Surprised and pleased, I leaned over to kiss him. He must know how favored that made him, for me to show affection before witnesses. The queens of Sheol had never been known for their softness.
In another part of the complex, the released prisoners were rioting; they would thin the resistance we faced. Distant noises hinted at marvelous destruction—booms and thumps and shudders and the faint, delicate scent of smoke. Perfection.
“I’m surprised they let you fight,” he said as we pushed deeper into the compound. “I mean, you’re such a powerful sorceress that they should have suspected it would be hard to restrain you afterward.”
“I suspect Oz didn’t know I could tap their secret well. He imagined I would be spent after the battle and subduing me would prove no challenge.”
“Secret well?” Greydusk asked.
Which answered my next question. The Imaron couldn’t sense it, apparently. “Tell me about the Saremon,” I ordered.
“They’re descended from Solomon’s line, as you are, Your Majesty, through scions who interbred with demons. In time, they organized sufficiently to form their own caste. They focus on events in Sheol over the human realm and are concerned with increasing their own arcane powers. They maintain an occult library which is the envy of the other castes.”
I thought about that. “That’s probably why I can sense their source.”
“And I cannot.”
After that, I fell silent. At length, I passed from the arena complex into the main compound, where the sounds of fighting became sharper. I joined the battle from the flank, throwing another cloud of chaos at my enemies with a whispered shaping in demontongue. The darkness drifted and maddened everyone it t
ouched. They fought like wild things, screaming as they died, then Greydusk and Chance whirled into the fray like twin dervishes, born for death.
When the screaming stopped, four slaves were still standing. “Go,” I told them. “Spread the word of my coming.”
Though one was too injured to walk, the demon pulled itself along at a crawl, leaving smears of blood on the ornate tile. The other three ran toward the doors at the other side of the courtyard. I watched their obedience for a few seconds more and then turned toward the broken doors that led into the compound proper. The Saremon had guarded the egress to the best of their abilities, but it had been insufficient.
Instead, I found more wreckage. It was sad that the angry captives had been so thorough; there was little left for us to kill. But they’d had my permission, and so I swallowed the tang of disappointment and pushed on. They wouldn’t have gotten to the most powerful mages; those would be holed up somewhere, seeking a spell strong enough to kill the queen.
I went room by room, clearing each. A couple of times, we killed survivors who had hidden from the fight. Their cowardice did not earn them mercy. There was none for what their leaders had done. Should any Saremon be outside the caste compound on the day of reckoning, they would be sent from the city to shelter among the Xaraz, whose ranks they joined when they moved against me. A whisper in my head said it wasn’t fair to judge everyone the same way for the actions of a few, but I banished it like a buzzing insect.
At no point in my long and storied reign had I ever cared about “fair.”
Several rooms smoldered as I passed through, the result of spells gone awry, I guessed, before the mages went into hiding. As if that can save them.
Eventually I came to a tall, imposing door that didn’t open. I opened my gaze to the astral and examined the runes etched over it; the wards sealed it against all comers. Nobody was meant to get inside. Which only increased my desire to see what the Saremon prized so highly.
“This is the entrance to the library,” Greydusk said. “I have been here for research a few times.”
“Excellent. Stand back.”
The two males did as I requested, and I found the source running beneath my feet, boiling the rock. With a mental touch, I stole the magick in a smooth, sweet rush. Part of me realized, somewhat belatedly, that it didn’t hurt anymore, but instead of being relieved and thankful, that portion of my soul wept as if it had lost something precious. I ignored it; that was weak and would distract from my mission.
It took infinite patience, but I unpicked each rune, thread by thread. The unraveling took ages and more energy than I could’ve called on my own, without the Saremon spring that fueled their whole fortress. It was quite deliciously ironic that I could turn their assets against them. When the last ward puffed away in smoke, I withdrew from my working to find a pile of corpses. Both Greydusk and Chance were bloody; my consort’s face was battered and drawn with exhaustion.
“It took me some while?” I asked.
“Six hours,” Greydusk replied.
“Thank you for your protection.” I didn’t need to speak the words, but I could tell they meant a great deal to my two defenders. “Now let’s go see what the library’s got to offer.”
Chance opened the doors, and I could see in his movements that he was at the ragged edge of exhaustion. We all needed food and rest, and after I finished what I’d started, I would take care of my own. I became aware of my own weariness then, a burning dryness at eyes and mouth.
Regardless, I pressed on. Inside, rows on rows of shelves spread out as far as the eye could see. They were filled with books in all shapes and sizes, some bound in scales, others in what looked like tanned human skin. In the astral, the whole chamber glowed with magick, blazing from some tomes more than others. But no question, each volume in this magnificent library was valuable and powerful.
“Do you know how to get to the labs from here?” I asked Greydusk.
We had explored the rest of the complex. The spell casters had retreated, leaving the weak to fend for themselves. I’d expected to find them cowering in the library, but I was relieved that the mages had gone further still because I would have hated to fight in a room full of priceless grimoires. It seemed…barbaric. This way, I could seize the books and have them brought to the palace when we finished here.
He cocked his head, as if listening. “I drained a Saremon once. In his memories, there’s a story of a hidden entrance.”
“Then let’s search this place, top to bottom.”
Make It Quick
The library smelled of old books and musty paper. I wished I had time to examine the tomes, but that could wait until I confiscated them. Once they were delivered to the palace, I could research advances in the arcane arts to my heart’s content. Well, such as governmental duties permitted. It would take a while to get the city running in a respectable, orderly fashion again. The castes had been autonomous too long for me to see my reign beginning bloodlessly.
After a fair amount of investigation, Greydusk found the hidden exit. A row of shelving slid away from the wall, revealing the door. It was dark and cool within, eerily quiet as well. I peered into the astral and saw a shield of silence rune laid on the threshold, so whatever they did behind this door wouldn’t alarm the rest of the complex. That boded ill for anyone trapped in here.
As I stepped across, a boom shook the foundation of the whole structure. “What was that?”
Greydusk searched his stolen memories. “A failsafe. If the enemy breaches these protections, the stronghold falls.”
Behind us, magickal light snapped into place, barring our way. It was meant to shield the books from intruders and thieves I had no doubt, but it also prevented us from going back the way we’d come. There was a chance I could dismantle the spells if given time, but channeling that much energy might also fry my human body. Since I didn’t want to retreat, I discarded the notion. Nothing would serve but to press ahead and keep looking for my father. I thought it highly unlikely that the mages hadn’t left themselves another rathole, another exit.
“Are they running?” Chance asked.
“I suspect so. They need to regroup before they face me.” But it wouldn’t go better on different ground, unless they surprised me again, and I wouldn’t make that mistake twice.
Once I passed the rune of silence, I couldn’t hear the destruction behind us anymore. The Saremon might end up killing any survivors we had missed, which spoke to how they regarded their lower classes. If I killed these days, it was purposeful, not a casual result of mass destruction.
A long hallway lay before us, with doors on opposite sides as far as the eye could see. The corridors branched farther out, going left and right; this warren was worse than the prison where they kept their entertainment.
“The Saremon are really into experimentation,” Chance observed.
Greydusk nodded, apparently not realizing it was a joke. “They’re always looking for ways to add to their abilities. They’re not as physically strong as the Hazo, but their aptitude for magick is unmatched.”
I raised a brow, and he added, “Until your return, Your Majesty.”
Mollified, I strode over the dark tiles. Here, the floor looked like polished obsidian, etched with various runes. I stopped when I realized I could understand them. Skimming, I ignored the irrelevant areas of study, like pyromancy and divinations. Greydusk had stopped too and read the runes alongside me.
“Research?” he guessed.
“It’s as likely a place as any to start.”
I continued down the straightaway and cut left, as the runes had indicated. None of the doors were locked. Some stood open, as if the magicians had fled in great haste. Labs showed experiments in various stages of completion, arcane ingredients and odd machinery with sparking wires. I glanced at Greydusk, who wore a matching expression of bewildered awe—and that told me this wasn’t common knowledge among the other castes. There were cages full of strange, hybrid creatures, lik
ely bred by the Saremon, though for what purpose I had no clue.
In one room, machines with knobs and levers with piles of copper cables connected to a weird black box emitted a low hum. It was like that for fifteen different rooms with still no sign of my father. Maybe Oz had been lying. If he dared…
“I’ve been following the cables,” Greydusk said, interrupting my thoughts.
“Oh?”
“I think you want to see this.”
I went with him, and I noticed that the cables went from the machinery to the black box, on through the hallways. Then I stepped into the room the Imaron indicated and time stopped. In all my centuries, I’d never seen anything like it. I couldn’t even imagine the purpose.
A man hung in a metal framework, those cables plugged into his flesh. At first I thought he must be dead, for they had cut open his chest and filled it with transparent liquid, and where his heart ought to have been, he had a bright, glowing jewel suspended in the solution. In place of flesh, he had glass casement, permitting the ones who had done this to him to see inside his sternum.
“What the hell?” Chance gasped.
That summed up my reaction, too. Even if he was beyond saving, we should cut him down. The compassionate thought surprised me; it wasn’t like me to care about the fate of random strangers, but that was my human aspect, I supposed. I wasn’t the queen I had been, but any version of myself was better than oblivion.
As I stepped closer, the man’s eyelids fluttered open, and I took that first look like a fist in the face. I knew those blue eyes. I knew this man. Oh, part of me didn’t. To that part, he was a stranger. But the other part of me remembered his French toast and his predilection for Panama hats. The human half of me surged forth with desperate strength. She had to be in control in this moment, riding the bittersweet reunion. Because I understood its importance, I didn’t fight; I fell back, and this time, the shift occurred without pain.