by Tony Donadio
But he was a different matter. Once he became aware of her presence, she’d been forced to enchant him against his will. Holding her spell on Darden, and cloaking it to keep even the Queen from sensing it, would require incredible power and skill. But to do that, while also enchanting him, while he was fighting it — and yet still keep all of that magic veiled …
There were excellent reasons why Palanad Lantar had been chosen as court mage of Lannamon. He showed all of them now.
Bracing himself, he once again seized the Magic, and then lashed out at the succubus. Her eyes narrowed in anger in surprise. Time seemed to slow for them as they struggled for control of his mind and body.
You cannot defeat me, mortal, the demon thought to him.
Palanad’s lips twitched into a small smile. It was a sign of defiance, and a demonstration that he did, indeed, possess the power to resist her. Slowly, painstakingly, he began to erect a mental shield that would shatter his binding chain and protect him from her spell.
I don’t need to defeat you, his mind stabbed back. All I need is to expose you. I will strip your disguise, so that the others will see you for what you are.
I will kill you before you have the chance. And you do not have to die. Your city is lost, and there is nothing to be gained by resisting further. Yield, and I will spare you.
Palanad’s heart raced with anticipation. He had detected strain in the demon’s mental voice. That was a good sign, and doubtless unintended on her part. It was coming from his divination spell, still piercing her veil and giving him information that she would rather have kept hidden.
You cannot kill me without revealing yourself, he thought back. And you cannot subdue me while still maintaining both your veil, and your hold on the high priest. You’re strong, but you’re not that strong.
You are wrong, wizard, her mind hissed. The hiss gave the lie to her words. I will feed upon your soul if you defy me. A suddenly more seductive tone entered her thoughts. Do not make that necessary. If you surrender, I will reward you. And the rewards I can bestow are beyond your imagining.
Your bargaining betrays your weakness, demon, Palanad thought back grimly. He felt the beginnings of his mental barrier snap into place. A few more seconds and he would have command of his voice again, and then he could warn the others. Flee now, and release your hold on the inquisitor. It is the only way to save yourself.
The succubus’ red eyes blazed. Not the only way, wizard, she thought, her mental voice savage with fury.
And then she was gone from his mind. The chain lashing him evaporated. Without her resistance, his mental defenses slammed into place like the dropping of an iron gate. He blinked in surprise, for a moment disoriented.
Save us, My Holy Lord! He means to destroy us all!
It was then that he finally realized his mistake.
He drew in a frantic breath to shout a warning to the others, but it was already too late. With a snarl of hatred, Salmanor Darden drew a dagger from his belt and lunged at him. Before anyone realized what was happening or could try to stop it, he had plunged the blade into the court mage’s heart.
Blood erupted from Palanad’s mouth, and his warning cry was drowned in a spray of crimson. It stained the high priest’s robes with wild splashes as Darden raised the knife and struck again, and then again, stabbing at him with maniacal abandon.
“Traitor to the Light!” he shrieked. “Wielder of unholy magics! You have brought this on us! You and the corrupt dynasty you serve —”
Lord Rugon leaped forward and caught his dagger arm as it tried to descend for another stroke.
“Salmanor, are you mad?” he cried. “Stop it! You’re killing him!
Murder
Screams of panic sounded throughout the stone chamber as the two wrestled for the weapon. Palanad Lantar fell to the stone floor, blood streaming from half a dozen wounds in his chest and neck. The court mage’s dead eyes were already glazing over as they stared at the ceiling, still wearing an expression of shock and horror.
Darden brought his other hand around and tried to slam it into Lord Rugon’s face. The councilor blocked the blow, and then countered with a fist to the inquisitor’s jaw. Darden rocked back, stunned. Lord Rugon twisted his grip on his knife-hand, trying to pry the weapon from his grasp.
Lord Desmond jumped into the struggle, grappling the high priest from behind. Together, they forced Darden to drop the dagger. It fell clattering to the floor, still covered with Palanad’s blood.
Then the guards were rushing in beside them. They grabbed the high priest’s arms, pinning them behind his back. He struggled wildly in their grasp, eyes wide with madness.
“You have betrayed yourselves!” he cried. “And now you must live as slaves to the Dark as penance!”
His head turned to the side, and he looked at the serving girl.
“But I will not allow you to drag the pious down with you! The faithful will yet be saved by the Light!”
A nimbus of red formed around Darden’s body. With cries of pain the guards fell back from its touch, their armored gloves suddenly glowing as though heated over a forge. He started toward the serving girl, but then stopped. She was backing away from him, her hand held in front of her face, screaming.
The sound of a sword being drawn from its sheath rang through the milling panic in the room. Lord Rugon stepped toward the high priest, his blade flashing in a swift and decisive thrust. Salmanor Darden reeled back, the sword buried in his chest. Blood gushed on the inquisitor’s already gore-stained robe as he sank slowly to the ground. He came to rest, finally, on his back, unable to speak — his eyes, too, now staring at the ceiling.
Lord Rugon stepped back slowly, shuddering in disbelief at what had just happened. He bent over the body of Palanad Lantar, searching it for signs of life. When he found none he bowed his head.
“Shall we call for a healer, My Lord?” one of the guards asked tentatively.
Lord Rugon raised and shook his head. “No. Mage Lantar is beyond help.”
“And the high priest?”
He rose and strode over to the fallen inquisitor. He grasped the pommel of his sword, and, with a violent wrench of his arm, yanked it free from the body. Darden spasmed weakly, blood fountaining from the gaping hole in his chest. Then he was still.
“I have to get back to the tower,” he said thickly. “The others need to know what has happened. Especially the wizards. I don’t know what they can do now to stop what is coming, but they have to be told.”
His gaze swept briefly around the room.
“These two men were the last chance we had to ward the tower against the dragons that are coming,” he said loudly. “I think we have another few minutes before they begin to destroy the palace. Take them to make peace with the Gods. They will probably be our last.”
With an abrupt turn, he spun on his heel and strode from the room. The serving girl, unseen by the others as they stared in dread at Lord Rugon’s back, allowed herself a brief smile.
Payment
Salmanor Darden’s consciousness floated in a haze of white. He could no longer feel his body. The harsh reality of the world had finally faded from his awareness with the pain of the wounds that had slain him.
A form appeared at his side. It was the serving girl, looking up at him with adoring eyes.
Ah! he thought. There you are, little one. You are safe with me then, too, here in the Light.
She laughed.
Clueless to the end, Salmanor Darden. So easy to delude, to manipulate. So desperate to vindicate a faith that you never truly felt.
His thoughts clouded in confusion. The light around him suddenly changed, taking on a menacing black and red color. What?
The girl waved an ethereal hand in dismissal. It is of no consequence. Our dance is done, and I no longer need to cloud your thoughts with madness. You should find them clearing shortly. All that remains of this part of my mission is to deliver my message.
A stab of fright ran thro
ugh his mind. The fact that he could still experience such emotions in his now ephemeral state filled him with sudden dread. The serving girl laughed again.
Is the afterlife not living up to your expectations, Your Grace? I’m afraid that you will have to get used to that.
Darden’s mind roiled in panic. What is happening to me?
The girl gestured with one hand toward her bosom. The bodice of her dress unlaced itself and parted, revealing her bared breasts. Her skin was flushed and red. A blood-red gem on a chain rested against it, hanging from her neck.
I do find taking a soul to be incredibly arousing, you know, she continued breathlessly. And you did so anticipate pleasuring me while we’ve talked these many months. It’s only fair that I share that with you while I show you your new home.
My new … home?
Why, yes, Your Grace. Your body is dead now, courtesy of Lord Rugon’s considerable skill with a blade. She paused, a look of mock thoughtfulness on her face. I think he may have objected to you murdering Mage Lantar. Carlissans can be so funny about that sort of thing.
Slowly, painfully, the madness began to unravel from Darden’s mind. Lantar … murdered? And I’m … dead?
She nodded, lustrous black hair flouncing with mock eagerness.
Extremely. But don’t worry. I’ve taken precautions to ensure that your spirit isn’t wasted just yet. You have so much to experience before moving on to the Divine.
Memory flooded back into Darden’s awareness, along with a full understanding of all he had done. His mind screamed in horror.
My mission didn’t quite go according to plan, she continued absently, as his scream dissolved into a cacophony of helpless mental sobs. The King’s magic ring was quite a surprise, I must admit. And then there was that meddling court mage … Still, I think I handled those unexpected developments rather well. Yes, all things considered, I believe that My Lord will be pleased with how it turned out.
Where are we? Darden demanded. And who — what — are you?
The girl’s eyes began to shine with a menacing red light. The tips of her fingers grew into black claws, and there was a flash of fangs as she smiled at him. He recoiled from her in panic.
My name is Liana Desire, she said. I am a succubus in the service of his magnificence, the Demon Lord, Borr. My message for you is from our ally, Zomoran, the Black Magus, now Warlord of Carlissa. He says that he hopes you enjoy his payment for what you and your Inquisition did to him and his colleagues this Yule.
She waved a clawed hand around them, and then at herself. As for where you are? This is all just a vision I am giving you, of course. To help you understand what has happened to you.
Her eyes flashed again as she touched the gem that hung at her bosom. This is your new home, inquisitor. I do hope that you like it, because you are going to be here for a very long time.
Liana laughed as Darden’s mind began to scream again. This time, it did not stop.
Ah, yes, she said. Her eyes closed, and her lips parted in ecstasy. I do so enjoy this part …
Chapter 15 - The Massacre of Lannamon
The Herd
Orion watched Diana peer around the corner of the burning shop. A dragon had passed almost directly overhead, leaving a blazing line of flame in its wake. Fire was spreading around them. The scant protection of the alley they’d huddled into for cover was quickly becoming a furnace that would roast them alive.
Any hope of finding shelter had been dashed in the first few minutes of their flight. The dragons had strafed the city, leaving great swathes of ruin in their path. Wherever they struck no one survived, whether hidden indoors or running in the open.
He’d realized early in the attack that not being in the monsters’ path was their only hope of survival. As a result, he’d led the group on a series of desperate sprints through the Lower City. They dashed madly in one direction to avoid the monsters in one flight, only to be forced to turn in a different direction to avoid the next. Long lines of flame roared into life behind them as they ran and dodged, frantically trying to avoid the buildings that burned or collapsed around them.
He tried — and failed — to guess how long it had been since the dragons first appeared. The panicked flight of the group from the Smiling Nymph had become an unbroken blur of destruction and terror, and he’d long since lost track of time. They had been escorted all the way by the roar of the monsters, the flames of the burning city, and the relentless and terrified screams of the dying.
They’d already lost two of their number. The first had stopped to try to help a woman who’d been injured by falling debris; he’d been crushed when the rest of the building had collapsed on top of them. The second, overcome by fear and exhaustion, had simply left the group without warning, stumbling into an abandoned home to hide. Orion had seen one of the dragons hit that block a few minutes later, leaving a blazing inferno in its wake.
They’d managed to cover about half the distance to the docks. It was an extraordinary accomplishment given the circumstances, but there was no denying now that their attempt to reach the meager protection of the water had failed. The last dragon had turned the city to their south — in the direction they had been running, toward the firth — into one long flaming wall. Fire stretched across their path as far as they could see, making further progress impossible. If they didn’t retreat back the way they came, the spreading flames would soon take them.
The leading fingers of the demon advance were reaching into the streets around them. They’d seen one of the monsters kill a fleeing family, gleefully slaughtering parents and children alike with long, curved claws. Another walked boldly along a broad avenue, roaring and preening as it went. Several people were impaled on the long, bony spines covering its enormous body. One of them was still screaming.
Orion noted — when he had a rare, spare moment to think, instead of just running for survival — that the demon attacks were less aggressive than they might have been. They did not hesitate to kill, but they seemed more intent on terrorizing people into fleeing from their advance. There might be something significant in that, a key to their strategy — if indeed, there were one, beyond spreading horror and death. But he’d had no time to try to work it out.
What he did know, with grim certainty, was that the turn of each corner now carried the risk of running into one or more of the monsters. It was only a matter of time before the main body of the demon force swept through the streets around them on its relentless march toward the soldiers at the eastern end of the Lower City.
Their alley opened onto a lane that ran at an angle to the northeast. Diana pulled back from the corner and turned to the others.
“It’s clear to the right,” she said. “But that won’t last. People are running onto the lane from the left, trying to escape the block that dragon just fired. A mob is going to come by here at any moment.”
As if cued by her warning, a chorus of new and louder screams arose from around the corner. Orion nodded toward the sound.
“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be trapped between that crowd and the fire. Go!”
Diana was already sprinting before he’d finished his sentence, and the others followed her out of the alley. They managed to get ahead of the crush of refugees and headed along the lane. A few of them were still able to run, and the rest stumbled along as best they could.
Despite their efforts to stay together, the group began to stretch out. Some fell behind, and a few of the faster refugees overtook and passed them. Although they found themselves angling away from it, the wall of fire to their right stretched out in a long line both ahead and behind. Their way to the south was still completely blocked.
The ground began to rise slowly beneath them as they went. That probably means we’re heading into Cherry Hill, Orion thought. He smiled. The elevation would allow them a better view, and a chance to get a look at what was going on in the city around them.
After a few minutes the lane came to an intersection. A street t
hat curved in from the firth to the south merged with it, and the two widened into a broad avenue that headed directly toward the eastern end of the city. A park ran along the north side of it as it rose into a small hill. The height and the open ground gave them their first unobstructed view of the army base since the dragon attack had begun.
The fortifications were in flames. Pockets of soldiers and a handful of battle mages still manned the walls, trying desperately to bring spells and the remaining ballistae to bear on the circling dragons. Huge bolts and stabs of conjured power lanced up at the monsters as they passed overhead or stooped to attack. Their defense hadn’t been in vain; several of the beasts lay dead on the ground, or crashed and impaled upon the spiked battlements.
Some of the dragons had continued on toward the palace, but the rest had circled back to land near the dwindling wall of bluffs to the north. There, they had dropped off their riders, and risen again, now less burdened, to continue their assault from the sky. The fire giants, girded in heavy black armor and wielding enormous weapons, were wading through the burning city to strike at the defenders’ northern flank. The spreading flames had no effect on them, giving a terrible advantage to their attack.
Now that the advance from the palace was being driven back, flying demons were returning to the eastern end of the city. They circled the divided army, harrying their ranks and searching for weaknesses to exploit. Without warning they would descend, swarming like locusts, to attack small groups of soldiers that had become separated from the regiment’s main body. They struck hard with weapons and magic, slaughtering the defenders without mercy. Then they scattered to return to the sky, circling, waiting for another opening to pounce on the overwhelmed Carlissan soldiers.