by Megan Cutler
“We're all angry about it,” Wardel interjected again. “And we all want to make certain we're doing what's best for the lady. Remember, you're our only source of information.”
Arimand clamped his jaw closed to barricade a tirade he knew he would regret.
Eselt raised a hand to silence the others. “Arimand has always led us true…” He didn't add what else can we do? But Arimand knew each man had contemplated the question since the demon stole their charge.
“We need to go now,” Arimand said, still fighting to keep his temper in check. “Who knows how often the wind sweeps through this region? I know how to identify shelter, but I'm not sure how far we'll have to go to find it. We may have wasted too much time already.”
This time, Arimand didn't wait for Eselt to give the order. He loosed his tongue and did it himself, threatening to abandon anyone who lagged behind. There were protests; Arimand's relentless march through the wastes had been twice the speed of their slog through the swamp. Arimand didn't bother to address the complaints. Spinning on his heel, he plowed up the side of the first sand dune. But not before he caught a glimpse of Eselt's acid glare. Not that he cared. Eselt's opinion wasn't going to matter much longer.
Chapter Twenty-Two: The River Styx
A hand on Kaylie's shoulder jolted her from sleep. Moril's face hovered over hers, framed by wild brown curls. It was the first time he had touched her while she slept. It didn't bother her as much as it should have.
Moril withdrew his hand and straightened. “The storm has passed. If we don't want to get caught in the next one, we should leave right away.”
“Next one?” Kaylie blinked as she pushed herself into a sitting position. Her legs were stiff, but she didn't have room to stretch. She settled for shaking her legs instead. “If you think there are going to be more storms, why leave our shelter at all?”
“Each of Hell's realms has its own set of perils. The environment of the fourth ring seems designed to trap, or kill, its occupants. I don't imagine the storms are predictable, that would make it too easy, but there's no point in waiting, since they'll never stop. If we want to find another shelter, we need to give ourselves time. Demons might need ways to traverse Hell safely, but I doubt their master is generous, and they cover ground a lot more quickly than we can.”
It was a logical, reasonable answer, the kind she would have expected from Arimand. If Moril wasn't a demon, she supposed he'd been traveling Hell long enough to learn how to navigate.
Kaylie lifted her chin. “What if my mind hasn't changed? You can't drag me through the desert.”
Moril pressed his lips into a thin, pale line. “I hoped something I said or did along the way would give you reason enough to trust me. If I wanted to hurt or trick you, I can't fathom why I would invest such effort in building your trust.”
Before she had a chance to answer he added, “I know you're going to insist the same is true of Arimand.” There was a hint of bitterness in his tone. “I can see that you trust him. But I don't and I have no reason to. I'm not sure why you're so intent on getting me to accept him. Nor do I understand why your trust in me should be reliant on my opinion of another man.”
Arimand wasn't just any man; he was the man she loved. He'd done more for her than any other man in her memory. Not that my memory extends very far. She'd feel better about trusting Moril if he accepted Arimand. Their rivalry left her at odds about trusting both men.
She met Moril's gaze, her jaw set and her eyes narrow. “I want to know what you'd do if I said I wasn't going any further.”
Moril glanced over his shoulder at the cave's entrance. A steady dribble of sand left a large pile at the base of the wall. They could use it to climb free of their haven when they cleared the path. But Moril didn't seem to be looking at the sand. His eyes were distant, focused on a time or place beyond these walls.
When he turned back to her, he shrugged. “Go on to the river myself. It should take me home. I don't like the idea of facing your father alone, but I can at least deliver your decision.”
“My decision?”
“To stay in Hell rather than return to your struggling kingdom. I don't think he'll understand, but I'll tell him you've lost your memory. Maybe that will soften the blow. At least he'll know you're still alive.”
Tears stung her eyes. She fought to keep them at bay, swallowing a large lump in her throat. “If you're trying to manipulate me-”
“There'd be no point in that.” Moril sighed. “I know you, Kaylie. Hellfire, I should have known better than to try to convince you of anything. You've always been impossible to sway once you make up your mind about something. How do you think you convinced your father to let you come down here in the first place?
“I don't know what else to do. You're more than capable of making your own decisions. I never wanted to force you to do anything, but I had to get you away from Arimand. The Kaylie I know would tell me I've done the right thing. Maybe even that I should be more forceful, try harder to open your eyes. But it doesn't feel right, being at odds with you. And if you won't leave, the least I can do is go back to your father and tell him what I know. I owe him that.”
If it was an act, it was flawless. Moril's shoulders sagged, his head hung, his eyes focused on the ground. His voice sounded rough, scratched raw by the barely concealed emotions bunching his shoulders and constricting his throat.
“Why does Corvala need me?” she asked softly. “Haven't I done my part by coming down here and confronting the King of Hell? What use do they have of my magic now?”
Moril looked at her, his face haggard, his eyes glossy and bloodshot. “You're the heir to the throne. Your father is old. You have no siblings. If you die…” He choked on the word. “If you die, nothing will stop the armies of the surrounding empires from sweeping into our lands. The war for dominion will devastate our tiny kingdom. And if the King of Hell attacked again, no one could stop him. He knows that, and I can't help thinking that's what this war has been about.”
Heir to the throne? “Wh…why didn't you mention this sooner?”
Moril's brow creased with confusion. “What did you think I meant when I said you were descended from a princess and an Angelic Avenger?”
Her cheeks burned. “Well their descendants probably had several children. Not all of them would remain royals… What will happen if you go back without me?”
Moril slid to his feet and gathered his gear. “I don't know. But if the war is on our doorstep, I have to be there to meet it. And I don't know how much mortal time has passed since my arrival.”
And she had been wasting his time, stalling so that Arimand could catch up with her. If Moril spoke true, how many lives had she put at risk?
“Wait here for your Arimand if you want to,” Moril said, as if he could read her thoughts. “I'm leaving.”
Kaylie's head spun. Her arms and legs tingled. She leaned forward, resting her head on her knees, focusing on drawing deep breaths before the panic overwhelmed her. She needed to talk to Arimand. Moril's words hadn't changed her feelings, nor her conviction he was innocent of ill intent. But how would he find her? After the storm, there'd be no trace of their passage. Did Arimand have some idea where Moril might take her?
She didn't know what to do. If she lingered, she might wait an eternity for someone to find her. And the most likely candidate was another demon. She knew only one thing for certain; she didn't want to be alone.
Swallowing two deep breaths, she slid to her feet. “I'll come.” She'd rather have an unreliable companion than be alone with her fears.
Moril nodded. He climbed down, lit a second torch and scattered their fire as usual. Kaylie bent her arms and legs a few times before she climbed out the hole he had cleared. Then she turned to take both torches while he ascended. There had better be some truth in Moril's words, or she had just made a terrible mistake.
~*~*~*~
Arimand hadn't come. As they crested the final ridge, the river spread out bene
ath them. Kaylie's shoulders sagged, her eyes glistened and the color drained from her face.
Moril tried not to let her disappointment bother him. Much as it hurt to know her hopes still hung on that charlatan, the still, grey waters of the Styx gave him hope. Soon, Kaylie would be safely home. Her memories would return. She would tell them what happened when she entered negotiations with the King of Hell. They would stop the war and Kaylie would soon forget about Arimand, whoever he was.
“I guess this is it,” she murmured, wrapping her arms around her chest.
Moril's heart constricted. He wished returning her to safety hadn't involved terrifying her for the last several weeks. He had expected to find a familiar companion, not a stranger. “I know you still doubt me.” He laid one hand lightly on her trembling shoulder. “But we'll go into the river together. Whatever happens, you won't be alone.”
Kaylie met his gaze. What did she see there? Regret for the harm he'd caused during his time as a demon? He had assumed all her traveling companions were the King of Hell's minions. It was only after she described the situation he realized they were damned souls, as manipulated by Arimand as she had been. Did she still see deceit in all his actions? He could only hope, when she was herself again, she would forgive him.
Slowly, Kaylie lifted one arm. Moril was about to close his hands around hers when a voice spoke behind them.
“Get away from her.”
Moril's blood turned to ice. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he spun, instinctively putting himself between Kaylie and danger. He cursed.
Arimand stood between them and the river. He should have expected something like this; the devil's minion hadn't caught them because he'd been trying to get ahead of them.
“You're too late, Arimand.” Nothing could keep Moril from the river now, even if he died carrying Kaylie across the threshold.
“Wait!” Kaylie set a hand on Moril's arm. The hope and admiration in her voice cut him to the core. It took all his effort not to wince. “This is exactly what I wanted, a chance for the three of us to talk.”
“There's nothing to talk about.” Arimand extended his hand in Kaylie's direction. “I came for you, as I promised I would.”
“Don't,” Moril hissed, raising an arm to stop her walking forward. “It will only take a couple of steps to prove whether I'm right or wrong. Don't let him distract you from that. If he really wanted to help you, his task would be complete.”
“Shouldn't we let Lady Kaylie decide the best course of action?” Arimand taunted.
Moril's fingers twitched, itching to draw his sword.
“It's okay,” Kaylie insisted, squeezing his arm with both hands. “I trust him. He'll understand when I explain. Maybe you can help me help him.”
Moril's heart sank like a lead weight into his stomach. He feared Kaylie's faith in Arimand more than anything. If he let her walk away from him, if he let her take Arimand's hand, his mission would fail.
“What's the matter, Moril? Afraid Kaylie can tell the difference between truth and lies?”
Ignoring the barb, Moril turned toward Kaylie, trying to lock Arimand out of his mind. He drew a deep breath, laid a hand on each of Kaylie's shoulders, and resisted the urge to shake her with each word. “Listen to me,” he let her hear his desperation. “Think hard. This is important. I know you love that man, but has Arimand ever said I love you in return?”
“I know he cares for me,” Kaylie protested, eyes hard, chin lifted.
Moril gritted his teeth, recognizing the stubborn look that meant she had already made up her mind. “If he's not a minion of Hell, how did he know where we were going? Why would he assume a demon would bring you to the banks of the Styx instead of taking you to its master? Who unlocked your memories, Kaylie?”
“Of course he unlocked your memories,” Arimand sneered. He took three steps up the incline.
Moril whirled, sliding his sword free of its sheath in the same moment.
Arimand stopped, eyes cold as steel. “Demons can play with your mind. Make you see and believe things that never happened.”
Moril's head spun with familiar disorientation. He dropped both sword and torch. The ground shifted beneath his feet. His perspective grew higher, his field of vision wider. How better could Arimand illustrate his point than to trap Moril once more in the demon form? His keen eyes cut through the darkness, registering Kaylie's horror.
Arimand must have expected Kaylie to run straight into his arms. Surely Moril was meant to play the role of outraged monster. He no longer doubted the man's identity, and he refused to leave Kaylie's fate to chance.
“Forgive me,” the words came out as a growl, rasped from the depths of his thick throat.
As Kaylie's legs jerked into motion, Moril swept her from the ground. A memory of her voice commanded him to do whatever he deemed necessary. If only the woman he held would speak the same. She wriggled and squirmed, pounding his leather-armored skin in her attempts to escape.
Moril bolted for the river. A few strides and they would be free.
“Stop him!” Arimand roared.
Ropes snaked around Moril's legs. Pain shot through both rear limbs as hooks bit deep into his flesh, securing the bindings in place. He gritted his sharp teeth, ignoring the pain. One powerful jerk and he should be able to break away.
But the owners of the ropes drew back, heaving against the thick cords. How many men did Arimand have with him?
Enough to pull the legs out from under a demon.
As he crashed to the ground, Moril focused on keeping Kaylie within his grip without crushing her. Sand scraped his chest as the unseen men strained to drag him away from the river. He couldn't fight them and hold her at the same time.
It didn't matter. When the demon's form returned, so did its strength.
Moril dug his rear claws into the sand to halt the slow, backward movement. Using his free hand he levered himself upward and drew back the arm holding Kaylie.
“Concentrate on your body! Do not doubt!”
He coiled the muscles in his knees, lifting himself a few extra inches as he flung his arm forward, releasing Kaylie at the height of the arc.
Tension on the ropes ruined Moril's balance as she fell. By then, even Arimand couldn't stop her descent. Kaylie was going home, with or without Moril.
Arimand growled. Moril's bindings fell slack as the men behind him dropped their ropes and drew their weapons.
Kaylie's surprised scream terminated as she plunged into the river.
Silence and stillness ruled as a column of blinding light erupted from the water. The Styx glimmered blue beneath luminescence bright as the summer sun in Corvala's sky.
The demon form faded. Moril knew he would never wear it again. Strength and stamina abandoned him. The ropes hung loose around his ankles. His skin slid from the barbs that held them in place, though the cuts remained.
Moril didn't know if he could stand or fight but, whatever happened to him, Kaylie was safe. Even if she woke without memory, her father would show her the truth.
He expected an angry mob to fall on him and tear him to pieces. Rather than claim their revenge, the damned souls stumbled past him. They stood arrayed on the riverbank, staring slack-jawed at the fading glimmer, weapons hanging loose in their hands.
One man shouldered his way through the crowd. He drove his sword into the sand not a foot from Moril's face and seized him by the collar. Though he was barely more than a skeleton, the short man had enough strength to hoist Moril to his knees.
“Where is she? What have you done to her?” He punctuated each word with a brutal shake, driving lances of pain through Moril's legs.
“She's free,” he breathed, half-giddy with elation.
“Free?” The stranger's grip eased. “You mean… She ascended to Heaven?”
Moril stumbled to his feet and fumbled to regain his lost weapon. “Kaylie's not dead. She's gone home, to Corvala, to the people of her kingdom.”
&n
bsp; The stranger grabbed his wrist, fist tightening like a vise. Before Moril had a chance to question him, he growled, “Move.” When no one around him stirred, he smacked the man closest to him and yelled, “Move!” even as he tried to haul Moril away from the river.
Moril glanced over his shoulder. Arimand still faced the Styx, every muscle in his body taut. As the river's light died, an eerie red glow took its place. It came from Arimand. Fists clenched, his arms shook as he raised them, his whole body vibrating with the force of his rage.
Cursing softly, Moril tried to increase his pace. The crowd surged around him, recognizing the danger at last.
Arimand threw back his head, unleashing a howl like the one that echoed on the banks of the Phlegethon weeks before. The ground began to shake.
“I damn you, Moril.” Arimand's voice echoed strangely. “You shall suffer for all eternity for what you have done.”
Demons burst from the surrounding dunes, circling the cluster of confused men. Moril hefted his sword, grateful he thought to recover it. He nodded to the stranger and the man released him, lifting a blade of his own. Moril's legs protested as he shifted into a ready stance, but he swallowed the pain and braced himself for the battle to come.
Desperation kept him on his feet. Steel kept claws and teeth at bay. Moril understood suddenly what it must have been like for these men to fight him while he wore the demon body. How long could they hope to hold against so many?
Though he wielded his sword with expert ease, his legs constantly threatened to give way beneath him. It hadn't been this bad after the duel, but most of those injures had been scratches and most had healed shortly after Arimand returned him to the demon form. He realized now the mistake his opponent had made; he had been trying to keep Kaylie under his influence but had only managed to grant Moril an advantage.
Men fell around him, mauled by demon claws or smashed with fists and feet. Still demons seemed to surge from the surrounding desert, closing their circle tighter. Even if they could fight off the swarm, Moril's escape route vanished with Kaylie. He no longer had access to her magic. Unless, by some miracle, he could reach the distant river.