by Curtis, Greg
He had tried to find a way through of course. He would have surrendered if it would have helped. Giving up the rest of the Circle had seemed like a useful strategy, and they would all of course surrender their worthless lives to save him. But riders sent to meet with the High Priestess had been sent back with a simple message – prepare for death. No truce, no peace, no deal and no surrender. No Circle wizard would be allowed to survive. Even weeks later he still couldn't believe that.
The bitch was mad.
Fleeing had seemed like a good option as he sat there, but it could never happen. Not any more. He no longer had the wizards he needed to facilitate his escape. Far too many had died. Not enough powerful wizards of the earth remained to tunnel out and escape. And though he could try flying with a wizard of the sky, when Dina was out there that would be a short journey to death. Probably by falling.
As for dimension, the only one of the Circle who had had that magic had been Maynard. He could have opened a portal and crossed half the world in a heartbeat. But when he had died he had condemned Terellion to death. Selfish bastard!
For a while he had had hope that holding the other five Circle wizards hostage would save him. And it still might. There was always hope that the bitch was bluffing. But his envoys had been sent back with only three words in response to that threat – “So be it.”
Naturally he had had them killed for their failure. After they had been tortured of course. Such a terrible failure deserved only the most severe of punishments. But even killing them didn't bring him any surcease from his pain. It didn't change anything.
How could the bitch say that? How could she be so reckless with not just the kingdom but her own life as well? She knew what would happen. He kept asking himself that. But in the end she was a woman and he knew women weren't so predisposed to reason as men. They were emotional creatures, little more than animals really, and the bitch was angry. Maybe locking her up for so long had damaged her in some way? Whatever the reason, she was letting that emotion rule her, and she would sacrifice everyone and everything to kill him.
In time he hoped that she would see reason. That some tiny piece of sense would come to her. Or if not her then at least her war masters. But his own war masters weren't so hopeful. They said she was a woman on a crusade. That the determination of one very angry Goddess worked through her and that she would kill them all in the name of her pestilent Goddess. Artemis' divine fury would not allow her to do otherwise. He was thinking about cutting their tongues out like the others for saying that. But he knew it wouldn't help.
The High Priestess was a mad bitch. She was going to destroy his city. And all just to catch him and kill him. Then his great life would come to an end. He wouldn't allow it. If only he knew how to stop it! Not when it appeared she didn't care that killing him would kill everyone else.
Women! Why had the gods even created them? Really, they should never have been given the ability to think let alone speak. It only caused problems.
With all that on his mind he wasn't pleased to hear a noise, and then to look up and see that some miserable thrall had come to bother him. In better times Terellion would have killed him for the annoyance – or at least punished him properly. But he couldn't do that. The man and his beasts might preserve his life for a few extra minutes when the battle came.
“My lord.”
The man bowed, startling Terellion. No one called him that, and few did more than nod respectfully to him. Certainly none of the thralls, and this man was dressed in the robes of the priests and bore the mark of the demon king on his wrist. As he himself had once done. Obviously if he was bowing his control over the man was more powerful than he'd realised. But then some people resisted less than others. Weak minded people. Like women.
“What do you want?”
Terellion had little time for the man when the High Priestess and her army was very nearly camped outside the city. He had little time for anything save trying to survive the attack when it came. Least of all the thralls. Still, the man would be useful when the time came when he could control some of the beasts. And he was loyal, now that he was under Terellion's control. Which was probably why he was addressing him in that way.
“To serve you my lord.” The man bowed even lower.
“I know that!” Terellion snapped at him. The man irritated him. Even though it wasn't his fault that Terellion's magic had completely overwhelmed him, he still annoyed him. “Why are you bothering me?”
“This was found in the traitorous Varrious' quarters and it was thought it might interest you.” The man suddenly held out an arm, and in his hand was a vial of milky white liquid that sparkled with its own light.
For a moment Terellion didn't understand what it was that he was holding. What could be so important about it that the man would bother him with it? But then realisation took hold and his heart almost stopped beating there and then.
“Living essence!”
Terellion blurted the words out in shock. He couldn't quite believe that he was seeing the little glass vial of the precious elixir in front of him. After searching for it for so long! It was a miracle! Proof perhaps that Tyche at least hadn't completely deserted him. She might have taken everything else from him but the Blind Mistress had still offered him one tiny shred of hope. One sliver of a chance of survival and dignity. Abruptly Terellion stood and grabbed the vial of living essence from the man and clutched it to him. He would never let it go!
“Varrious had this?”
Terellion didn't understand why. The man was still fairly young and had no need of its restorative properties. Nor had he been injured – at least before Terellion had had him tortured – so its curative properties didn't matter either. Certainly it was far too precious for such a miserable worm to have. But maybe his demon king master had given it to him? Why though he didn't know. Trade possibly. Maybe to get more lives sent to him in return?
What Terellion did know was that the essence would be of no use to the man. If he still lived. Locking him away in the dungeon beneath the temple with his furies had seemed like a more than suitable punishment. So close to the gate which was barely twenty feet above his head, but unable to either reach it because he was in chains, or use it because Terellion had locked it. And he was surrounded by furies that terrified him, especially when he could barely control them at the best of times. Now of course they would be harder to control as they like everyone else grew hungry. He wasn't sure if they were still being fed. If indeed any of the chimera were. Despite all the war masters plans to stock up on supplies it seemed they were still running short. But he was sure that when the last of the food ran out, they would get hungry. And Varrious was food. Varrious was a man at his end, chained to his cell, crippled and broken and waiting to die a terrible death. Terellion had enjoyed devising the punishment for him.
“Yes my Lord. It was hidden but my fury found it.”
Hidden. That at least he understood. If he'd had such a treasure he would hide it too. Save that now he wouldn't. He would keep it on his person at all times, ready for when he needed it.
“Thank you, you can go now, knowing you have served me well.”
Terellion dismissed the man with a brusque wave and heard him leave, his eyes all the while trained on the vial of sparkling milky fluid in his hand. It was the most precious substance in the world! And it was finally his. After all this time!
He so wanted to gulp it down there and then. Every fibre of his being was telling him to simply pull the stopper from it and upend the vial into his mouth. But he knew that that would be a mistake. The vial might work for a little time or a long one – he didn't know which. But it would only take some of his years from him; it would not grant him immortality. More than that though he needed it for when the battle finally began and he would have to defend himself. It would only cure wounds immediately it was drunk. Even if this returned a few longed for years of life to him, if he was wounded later it would not save him. The living essence was too p
recious to simply waste. So until the time came he would have to wear it.
But it offered another hope. If it was as powerful as the sages said, it would make him young again for a while. And the High Priestess was looking for an old man. With it and some magic he could escape. He could live out the rest of his life somewhere else.
Then again, the living essence would do the one more thing for him that he wanted desperately. It would restore his potency to him. For a short while or a long one, he would be a man again. And then he would have his bitch! He would have her as no man had ever had a bitch before. And if this thing was as powerful as the sages claimed it could be, he might be able to have her until the battle itself. That was days, maybe weeks away. And for all of that time he could be enjoying her and her sisters. And his attendants too! And anyone else who caught his eye.
To not take it until that final day and then to be killed before he could use it as he wanted to, that would be a terrible mistake.
What to do? Should he save the precious elixir in the faint hope that it might save his life when he needed it most? Or use it now and enjoy his last days and weeks in the world, knowing that when the time came he would have no such hope, no matter how faint? It was a dilemma. And he knew it would probably be a decision that he would wrestle with for a long time.
But he also knew it was a good decision to have to make. Finally, after all this time, something was going his way.
Chapter Sixty Three
Terellion entered the Great Temple and immediately ordered the guards to stand at their posts and not bother him until he returned. He also ordered them to keep everyone else away for the rest of the day. Then he hurried to the antechamber and the stairs down to the dungeon.
He had to have her! It was madness. It was a mistake. But he had to possess her. And for the first time in years there was a chance to do it. More than a chance. With the elixir he could finally be once again the man he used to be. Young, powerful, potent! He could finally achieve at least one of his dreams and bed a fury. More than that, he could bed his fury. The one he had seduced. The one that hungered for him as he did for her. And maybe if the living essence was as potent as he'd heard it was, he could bed a few of the others as well. After all, there was no shortage of them locked away under the temple and the essence would heal him if they bit. And Varrious and a few of the other thralls were there too, locked up with them but able to control them – until the hunger grew too great of course.
For a whole day he had held on to the elixir. Keeping it safe around his neck. Checking that it was there every minute of the day. And trying to do the intelligent thing. To keep it safe for when he absolutely needed it. It was his best chance of survival. The problem was that it might not save him even then. It quite likely wouldn't. And until then there was one thing he absolutely needed to be doing. Day and night if possible.
Besides, it wasn't as if any of his other desires were going to be fulfilled. There was no immortality coming. His time as a king was ending. And he couldn't even have a good execution – not when he needed every man for the final battle.
The High Priestess' army was surrounding the city. The dryads were close. The war masters all said it would only be a matter of time before the attack began. Days, weeks at the most. And while none of them could say how the battle would work out, none of them looked particularly hopeful.
All of which meant that he could be dead in only a few short days. He probably would be.
That could not happen. It could not be allowed! Though how he could stop it he still didn't know. The wizards were busy setting up traps within the city, while the High Priestess' wizards were doing the same beyond it. But that just made the entire battle a nightmare for whoever attacked. If the High Priestess' army entered the city, they would be cut down. If his army left to attack them, it would be they who would be cut down instead. Yet the one thing all his war masters said was that to stay in the city was their only hope. To leave it was to die. Their best hope of victory was if the High Priestess' army entered Lion's Crest soon. Otherwise they would either be killed by their own chimera when they grew hungry, starved out themselves, or bombarded into non-existence by the High Priestess' war machines if they had the range. If they didn't – and the war masters seemed to have no certainty on the matter – then they would at best grow old and die in the city.
It wasn't much to place your hopes of living on. Especially when the High Priestess probably had war masters of her own telling her exactly the same thing. But it was all he had.
At that point in his thoughts Terellion reached the dungeon and saw her, and at that point everything else became unimportant. She was standing in her cage in the centre of the dungeon, looking bored. But then she would be. He hadn't been there to see her in months, and guards had been posted to keep her from wandering. However she had been getting out it wasn't happening any longer. Not when he had matters of state to attend to. Not when he had to concentrate on surviving the war.
But those months without her had done nothing to make her less desirable to him. In fact if anything she looked even more appealing than ever.
By the gods she was gorgeous! The very essence of seduction and terror in one womanly body. And seeing her standing there across the other side of the cage just drove Terellion crazy. He wanted her! He wanted her as he had never wanted any woman before in his life. But it was dangerous. Even with the essence it was dangerous. He was going to need both the elixir and Varrious' help. And Varrious hated him.
The miserable thrall was alive at least. Terellion hadn't known that he was until just then. But he showed the signs of the torturer's art. Broken fingers and missing fingernails, missing toenails too, a face swollen and bloodied, feet stained with blood and burns. No doubt what was covered up by his rags would be worse. He would not help Terellion. Not willingly.
Terellion could see the hatred in his eyes as he approached him. The demon king's first thrall was locked in the cell with his pet, like the others. But more than that he was chained to it, and by the looks of things he had been chained for some time. Long enough to have ribbons of dried blood and scar tissue from the manacles around his wrists. Ever since Terellion had ordered him to be chained in the cell with her he guessed. But at least he was still alive. And at a guess the torturers had given up with him some time before. Terellion hadn't checked after the first few weeks. It had been enough to hear the reports and know that he was suffering. And for the moment the fact that Varrious was alive was a good thing. It meant that he was still able to control the fury. And she did seem calm.
“Varrious.”
“Come to gloat?” The man seemed unhappy to see him. But Terellion had expected that. After all that he had had done to the man he was surprised Varrious wasn't screaming at him. But then he had probably been broken. All men eventually broke. That was the truth of torture that no one ever wanted to face. Even the strongest, the most noble and honourable, the most decent of heart, broke. And Varrious had been none of those things to begin with.
“I have come to offer you a deal for your freedom.”
Varrious' eyes suddenly widened in surprise when he said that and for the first time he actually looked at him. And Terellion knew he had at least got his attention though no doubt he didn't believe him – why would he? But he was listening because even the slightest chance that he might be telling the truth had to be taken.
“I'm listening.”
“You still control her?” Terellion indicated the fury.
“She does as I ask. Who do you need killed?”
“I don't want her to kill anyone. I want her.” Terellion put it as plainly as he could and watched as the understanding slowly grew in Various' face. And then the calculation. That surprised him a little. That the man still had enough wit left to him to do anything other than babble surprised him.
“I can do some of what you want. I can keep her calm. But not completely. She may still bite. A little. But if you're careful I can keep her from
using her fangs. If I have good reason.”
“If I die you'll be taken out of here and flogged to death with harpy feather whips. If I live you go free. Is that reason enough?”
Terellion put it simply. And he thought both were strong incentives for the man. After however many weeks or months he'd been down here, locked away, Varrious didn't want to die and he absolutely wanted to walk the city streets again.
“Yes.”
Varrious nodded and Terellion sensed no deception in him. He truly wished the man was susceptible to his magic – it had come as a dreadful shock to discover he wasn't – but still he thought the man would comply. There came a point in every prisoner's life where his principles and his hatred gave way to his desire to be free. After a while men, even strong men, would do unspeakable things to escape their cells even for a few hours. Things they would never have thought they would do.