Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles

by Melvin, Jim

  With the bright moonlight providing visibility, Lucius could see six other eagles soaring around him. The one that bore Ugga had fallen slightly behind, the crossbreed’s girth and the weight of his axe overburdening it. Surprisingly, Jord had remained in her human form and chosen to ride, her streaming white hair even longer than Laylah’s blond locks.

  Eventually they approached Duccarita.

  Like the walls of Nissaya, the stone bulwarks that guarded the City of Thieves had been created almost entirely by natural forces, constructed underground and then vomited skyward. The eagles skimmed the top of the eastern wall, then dove steeply down its side. Lucius could see the immense city looming below, broad and glittering. From his previous visits as an emissary of Invictus, he remembered Duccarita as a conglomeration of warped and weathered buildings. In the congested heart of the city, most of the streets were barely wide enough for a wagon, and the alleyways were even narrower. Stories of horrors in the darkness made even a hardened soldier shudder.

  With Jord’s mount leading the way, they flew over a grotesque mishmash of shingled rooftops. The eagles skimmed above them with surprising delicacy, making less sound than a breath of breeze. From the ground, they would have been invisible to all but the wariest eyes, though it mattered little. At this time of night, hard drinking, whoring, and gambling would eliminate most attempts at wariness. Besides, what few guards Duccarita kept on hand were stationed at the southern entrance of the city, where the natural stone bulwark opened into the Gap of Gamana like a dam burst asunder. Once within the city, there were no guards—only pirates, thieves, and a variety of other rascally types, who would slit your throat for a mug of ale or a pair of worn boots.

  They landed on a rooftop that looked no different to Lucius than any of the others. How Jord and the eagles were able to distinguish this particular place was beyond his comprehension. The white-haired woman opened a pair of shutters set into a dormer and climbed inside. Lucius was the last to follow. Before entering, he turned and watched the eagles launch into the sky. For better or worse, he and Laylah were trapped within the most wicked city in the world.

  Once inside, Lucius squinted to make out his surroundings. He and his companions stood in a dark room barely large enough to contain them. He hunched over to avoid banging his head on the angled ceiling. A large man stood at the head of a stairway, whispering to Jord in a conspiratorial tone. Then he started downward. Jord followed, motioning for the others to do the same.

  Torg went next, and then Laylah. The pair were holding hands. Lucius felt a surge of jealousy, his hundredth of the day, but he noticed that each occurrence was becoming a little less intense. Somehow he was growing accustomed to the fact that the wizard and his queen were inseparable. At the same time that it broke his heart, it also warmed it. Seeing Laylah so happy wasn’t such a bad thing, even if he weren’t the reason for it. And he had to admit that, despite his best efforts to the contrary, he was starting to admire the Death-Knower.

  The stairway was claustrophobically narrow, with wooden steps that creaked and complained. The stairs spilled onto the second floor of a small inn. The group filed into a bedchamber as cramped as the room they’d first entered. The large man bowed to Jord and then slipped away to attend to other business. A foul-smelling oil lamp provided the only light. They huddled together between a pair of lumpy beds and waited for Jord to speak.

  “This floor of the inn belongs to us,” she said in a low voice. “There are three other bedrooms, so we can spread out some. The innkeeper will bring us a meal shortly.”

  “Who is the innkeeper?” Laylah said. “Why should we trust him?”

  Torg answered, instead of Jord. “His name is Ditthi-Rakkhati, and he owns this inn. But in truth, he is a Jivitan spy. In the past, the White City has paid scant attention to Duccarita, because the pirates and slave traders rarely ventured south of the gap. But in these dire times, Jivita has found it necessary to broaden its horizons. Despite his appearance, Rakkhati can be trusted.”

  “How do you know this?” Laylah said in a wounded tone.

  Lucius realized he wasn’t the only one struggling with jealousy. But the wizard’s response surprised him. “The eagle told me, as we flew over the walls.”

  “Not Jord? You mean, a real eagle told you this?” Rathburt said, rolling his eyes. “So now you can speak with birds?”

  “You talk to plants,” Torg said. “Why can’t I talk to animals?”

  “Hmmph!”

  “My eagle spoke to me too,” Ugga bellowed proudly. “He said, ‘Ya are one heavy booger!’”

  They all laughed, Jord the loudest.

  But a moment later, the white-haired woman’s countenance changed dramatically and her face contorted. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she cried, as if to an invisible presence. Then: “Noooo! NO!” She raced up the stairway.

  Torg and the others followed. When Lucius finally clambered onto the roof, he heard screams coming from the street.

  “The dragon comes,” a stranger was shouting from below. “Lord Bhayatupa is upon us!”

  A crackling explosion caused the night sky to erupt. Lucius cowered, but another blast jerked his attention upward.

  “Kwahu!” he heard Jord scream as she transformed into a mountain eagle and sprang into the air, leaving shreds of her magical robe sparkling in her wake.

  “Stop!” Torg cried.

  The wizard leapt after her, but he was too late. In her new incarnation, Jord hurtled toward the dragon, whose hovering silhouette was clearly visible on the moonlit horizon. A pair of black specks circled the dragon’s head, and he realized with a gasp that these were the mountain eagles, doing battle with the monstrous serpent, which was thirty times their size, at least. Even more frightening, several balls of fire—the burning carcasses of eagles already fallen—clung to the crest of the eastern wall, as if someone had lighted bonfires on ledges a thousand cubits off the ground.

  “You are not his match. Not like this!” Torg yelled, but the hooting and cursing that came from the streets below drowned out his voice.

  The black speck nearest Bhayatupa’s snout burst into flame. The other appeared to flee, but it too succumbed to crimson fire. Then another silhouette rose in challenge, expanding in size until it rivaled the dragon, though more bird-like in appearance. Green torrents surged from its open beak, engulfing Bhayatupa in a barrage of energy. But the dragon spewed a ball of crimson vomit at his attacker, and the eagle incarnation caught fire and fell from the sky, dropping somewhere beyond the wall. Soon after, a blast as hot and angry as a desert windstorm collapsed upon the city.

  Horrified, Lucius turned to Torg for some kind of comfort, but the wizard stood still as stone, staring at the smoky night sky. Things had happened so fast the others were still peering at the carnage from inside the window. Just then, Bhayatupa plunged upon them, soaring over the rooftops like a mountain with wings, the wind of their wake knocking Lucius off his feet. When Bhayatupa passed by again, Lucius looked up and saw one of the dragon’s massive round eyes, glowing with ancient might.

  “Abhisambodhi! (Highest enlightenment!)” Bhayatupa howled, so loud that all who dwelled in Duccarita must have been able to hear—and then the greatest of all dragons, past or present, sped away beyond the walls.

  “Andhabaala (Fool of fools),” Torg shouted back. “Abhisambodhi is beyond you.”

  Lucius had little idea what either of them had meant.

  Demon and Dragon

  4

  A FEW HOURS before Bhayatupa would fly to Duccarita to do battle with Jord, a pair of beings as wicked as the great dragon huddled together on the second floor of the ziggurat. Vedana’s grandmotherly incarnation leaned over the glass basin that contained a magical silver liquid. The mother of all demons was Triken’s unquestioned master of scrying, and when she waved her translucent hands, the contents of the basin came colorfully to life.

  Jākita-Abhinno, queen of the Warlish witches, stood beside her demon creator, in a
we of her but also afraid of her.

  “Does Torg have the strength to destroy something as great as the Mahanta pEpa?” asked Jākita, at that moment choosing to be in her beautiful state. “I haaaate to admit it, but I would be impressssed. That creature is as deadly as a druid queen.”

  “They can destroy the Great Evil,” Vedana corrected. “Without Laylah’s . . . uh . . . assistance, it might not get done.”

  Both of them cackled.

  “Things are going well,” Vedana said, “but I must keep The Torgon and his cutesy little girlfriend out of trouble for a while longer yet.”

  “Do you think Invictus will go after them himsssself?”

  “I doubt my grandson will leave Uccheda until the wars are almost over, except maybe just to sneak a few peeks at the goings-on. If he were to engage in the actual fighting, he would win too easily. He’ll much prefer to sit back and watch the rest of us tear each other apart. Only if his army is on the verge of defeat would he deign to save the day. Invictus has a flair for the dramatic. It helps to relieve his boredom. But I am smarter—and more dangerous—than he gives me credit.”

  “Issss he not invincible?” Jākita believed he was.

  “That depends . . .” Vedana said.

  Jākita always felt uneasy when Vedana said something like that. She quickly looked back at the basin, hoping to distract the demon from further musings. “Shouldn’t we do ssssomething to thwart the wizard’s movements?” Jākita said, trying to sound helpful. “I could send witches to harassss him.”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Vedana snarled with enough force to knock Jākita onto her haunches. “You always want to stick your noses into things, and yet you have no idea what’s really at stake. Perhaps I should dispose of you and promote someone a little more compliant.”

  Jākita buried her face between her own spread legs and began to moan. As she transformed, rancid smoke oozed from her hair. Crackling explosions followed. Vedana, of course, would be unaffected. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

  “I meant no offense, Mistress,” the now-ugly Jākita said. “Please do not punissssh me. I am your most loyal sssservant.”

  “Stop whining. I’ll allow you to exist another day. Besides, I have business with the dragon that is more important than any I might have with you.”

  Jākita continued to sob and cough, filling the chamber with her foul-smelling breath. But Vedana paid her no heed. A dark hole opened in the ceiling above Vedana’s head, and she leapt inside, vanishing in an instant.

  5

  LATER THAT DAY, the great dragon Bhayatupa mused and smoldered in his lair. Though more than a week had passed since his battle with Mala, Bhayatupa’s wounds still caused him pain. The molten liquid that gushed from Mala’s chain had scorched Bhayatupa’s snout and the inside of his mouth. Already bearing previous injuries suffered during his escape from Avici, the dragon now had a swollen tongue, charred fangs, and a broken bone in his right front foot—all the fault of the most despicable low one ever to exist.

  To make matters even worse, Bhayatupa suddenly realized that an unwelcomed guest had unexpectedly arrived. Vedana, the mother of all demons—of which she bragged endlessly—slipped into his lair and appeared before him as a raven. As an added touch, the demon perched on the erect penis of one of his marble statues, this one a gift from King Lobha just before Bhayatupa had gone into hibernation ten millennia ago.

  “Why does it not surprise me that you would choose this place to rest?” Bhayatupa said. “Vedana, you have become too predictable in your old age.”

  “I thought my little joke might cheer you up. You look terrible.”

  When Bhayatupa sighed, smoke poured from his nostrils. “I suppose you watched my encounter with Mala from the ziggurat. Did you and your horrid little witches take pleasure when the wretched creature managed to escape?”

  “I did watch, a little, but I spent more energy veiling the whole affair from Invictus. Mala’s survival makes things more difficult for me, too, you know. Without the Chain Man to lead my grandson’s armies, it would have been easier for me to manipulate the necessary outcomes. With him still alive, I will have to be even more careful.”

  “Then why don’t you just destroy Mala yourself?” Bhayatupa snarled.

  “You know the answer to that as well as I. It’s the same reason I’ve put up with your threats and insults for hundreds of centuries. I am only able to secrete a portion of my power into the Realm of Life, which is not enough to destroy Mala, especially considering how Invictus coddles him. The energy that surges within that damnable chain is the same energy that flows in my grandson’s flesh. So don’t feel like such a failure, dragon. Mala was closer to being your match than you realized.”

  Bhayatupa groaned. “I have learned that firsthand. So tell me, what now? I seem to have become another of your pawns. What is my next assignment, master?”

  “Oh, don’t be so droll. You’re no more my pawn than I am yours. You’ve already agreed that we both will benefit from this arrangement. So stop whining, and listen instead.”

  “What else is there for me to do but listen?”

  “I wish you would say that more often. But enough about Mala. There is another obstacle in the path of our success that is more immediate. The horrid Faerie is sticking her nose into things again. And if she isn’t removed, she could cause even more problems than the Chain Man.”

  “I’ve never liked her, particularly,” Bhayatupa said. “But she’s always seemed rather harmless. Why has her ‘removal’ suddenly become so important to our cause?”

  “Can’t you trust me just once and not ask so many questions?”

  “I will never trust you, Vedana. But in this instance, I appear to have little choice. All right then—tell me what you would have me do.”

  Later that day, he crept from his lair and sprang into the sky. He soared high over the Gap of Gamana, impressed by the number of Mogols, wolves, and other Adho Sattas he saw swarming along the open plain. He was tempted to fly low and wreak some havoc, just for amusement, but his business was too pressing. Vedana had given him two assignments: destroying Jord and her accompanying mountain eagles was one, but there was another of almost equal importance. According to the demon, the remaining eagles still alive in the world had gathered on Catu, the northernmost mountain in all of Triken. It was there that Bhayatupa headed first, skimming above the towering peaks that marched toward the end of the world.

  When he approached, the eagles rose to meet his challenge, more than thirty in all. They fought as ferociously as dracools, but their anger over his abominable intrusion clouded their judgment. Rather than attack as an organized group, they flew at him as enraged individuals—and fell, one by one. As far as Bhayatupa could tell, none survived the battle. After devouring several of the fallen birds, he turned and headed back toward the City of Thieves, feeling more like his old self—Mahaasupanno, mightiest of all. In an irony of sorts, he felt grateful to Vedana for restoring his proper standing.

  The birds of prey he found perched on the towering rock walls of Duccarita fared no better than those at Catu. But when the Faerie assumed the form of a dragon-sized eagle and rose to confront him, her ferocity amazed Bhayatupa. The green torrent that blazed from her beak scorched more than his scales; it slithered inside the smallest fragments of his being. He reacted with panic, blasting the Faerie with all his magical might. Thankfully, it had been enough. Her ruined carcass plunged to the ground beyond the wall in a flaming heap.

  When Bhayatupa flew down along the rooftops of the city, his massive eyes glowed like cinders. He first sensed and then saw the Death-Knower. The magnitude of the wizard’s essence impressed Bhayatupa. For something so small, The Torgon was formidable. He would have to be careful in his future dealings with Torg.

  “Abhisambodhi! (High enlightenment!)” Bhayatupa howled. And as he sped away, he whispered: “Teach me the truth, Death-Knower. Release me from this madness.”

  Afterward, Bhaya
tupa lay in his lair and mused over his latest encounter with a supernatural foe. His failed attempt to destroy Mala had bruised his ego, but his successful defeat of the Faerie had bruised his soul. Her green radiance burned like no other. Even Invictus’ golden energy had done less damage.

  But not in a surface way. Rather, the Faerie’s assault had hurt him underneath.

  “Bhayatupa amarattam tanhiiyati (Bhayatupa craves eternal existence),” he said out loud within his hidden lair, unaware he had given voice to his thoughts. A pair of Mogol slaves fell to their knees and covered their faces. But Bhayatupa was too deep in concentration to pay them heed.

  For several days after his battle with the Faerie, he lay as still as one of the bejeweled statues scattered among his vast treasure, accumulated over eighty millennia of existence. Bhayatupa’s mind wandered back to his youth, when Triken had been a much different place. Once there were thousands of dragons roaming the skies. Though they often fought among themselves, the dragons were the undisputed rulers of the land. None could stand against them—and rather than try, the kings and queens of the mortal world became their willing servants, like pawns in a game of chess played from above.

  There was a time, early on, when Bhayatupa was not supreme among his kind. Ulaara the Black was the greatest of the great, and his brother and sister named Sankhayo and Sankhaya—both of whom were almost as powerful as their leader—ceaselessly accompanied him. When Bhayatupa was twenty thousand years old, the first of the Dragon Wars began in earnest, and they continued for an additional thirty millennia, until fewer than one hundred great dragons remained active in the world.

  Among the casualties was Sankhayo, who drowned in Lake Hadaya after suffering a terrible wound and tumbling from the sky. Bhayatupa found Sankhaya lying by the shore of the lake, mourning her brother’s death, and he slipped down from above and pounced on her back, snapping her neck with his massive jaws. Now that Ulaara was unprotected, Bhayatupa issued an official challenge to a duel for supremacy, with the winner being accorded the coveted title of Mahaasupanno, mightiest of all.