by Ann Aguirre
They snapped to attention on my arrival, stammering excuses, but I waved them off.
“I don’t expect you to defend the city alone,” I said. “You were hired to keep watch over the palace, and that you have done. Now stand back.”
Quieting, they did. I wouldn’t leave the safety of the wards without a little leverage, and I was about to summon it. First I built an image of the Gorder in my mind. Then I shaped the spell energies as I had done that first time, outside the city. Energy spindled to life at my core, flickering and wild, like lightning over water.
Then I sliced a hole up high in the glimmering field that protected the castle. Too high for anything but a flyer to reach; it was a necessary, calculated temporary vulnerability. The guards cried out in protest, and I ignored them, along with mutters from Chance and Shannon. Greydusk held his silence, trusting me fully.
With a shout of “Advenio!” I released the spell.
Outside the walls, the ground rumbled. My Gorder was in the city, looking for me. I’d suspected that might be the case, as it had imprinted on me like a big pet, and now I would use it to destroy my enemies, just as it had freed us from the magus trap. I stood my ground as the others backed away. They didn’t know my plan and for obvious reasons I hadn’t shared it.
I couldn’t protect them all. The wards would do it in my absence. This city belonged to me, and I would fight for it. Since I had no army, it fell to my magick and me. So be it.
When the Gorder stuck its blind head up over the wall, scenting me with its open mouth, I took a running start and leapt from the rampart. I passed through the narrow gap in the field and as I tumbled back, I sealed it behind me, so they could not follow. Chance tried, and he slammed into an implacable wall. His face twisted when he realized my intentions, but I couldn’t hear his cries as I fell. I might have managed a levitation spell, if I hadn’t focused on closing the wards. I was too close to the ground to have time now.
“Catch me, friend!” In answer, the Gorder snapped its jaws shut, snagging my thigh just before I slammed into the ground. The save hurt, wrenched my back and pierced my flesh, but the creature didn’t mean to harm me. It adored me; the feeling rolled off it in waves.
“Down now.”
The monster dropped me as gently as it could manage and shivered in delight when I stroked its side. I pictured our mutual enemy and sent it along our bond. Fury sang in my blood as I scrambled up; there was a place to rest where its wormy neck met its lizard shoulders. Gorder hide felt rough and hot to the touch while bumps along its back gave me a place to hang on.
“Ready to fight?” My monstrous mount reared and carried me toward the battle I heard ringing in the distance.
If I encountered more beasts, I might bend them to my will. I had power to spare and it could best be spent on driving an army instead of limited to offensive spells. The ones I’d left behind fell away like smoke in the wind. So did my doubts and fears. Distance became no obstacle with the fearsome Gorder carrying me at such breakneck speed. We raced toward the city gates. First I’d pacify the worst areas and then I’d hunt down the magicians responsible for dismantling the Vortex.
“The queen!” The awed cry went up from those cowering in broken buildings. “Ninlil will save us!”
I will, or die trying.
As I passed, I called, “Get to safety! This will be over soon.”
The Noit hadn’t exaggerated the threat. Smoke rose from multiple fires, and the screaming increased when I drew closer to the battle. I unleashed a spell to suck the air away from the flames, and they sputtered out. The Gorder ate a demon mage casting from a rooftop, and I raised up on my knees to assess the scene. Saremon insurgents, definitely.
A nightmare monster lashed out at random victims, eviscerating them with its swordlike talons. It had black skin and spines all over its body. Mine, I thought. The spell took shape in my head, a sweet, soul-stealing magick, and I unleashed it on the Swordwraith. The creature stiffened, its wild rage fighting my mental leash, but I pressed while the Gorder whipped its tail, smashing another Saremon. With a scream, it accepted my mental domination and turned its natural weapons to my will.
Swordwraith and Gorder—my army grows.
But it gave me some indication how many creatures I could hold at any given time. One more would tax my limits. Four would break my mind wide open and unleash those I controlled at the worst possible time. I’d pit these two against any foes, however, so I shouldn’t need more.
In short order, the Swordwraith and Gorder threshed through my opponents, leaving the terrified citizens intact. A few at a time, they rose from the wreckage, cheering. Even in the old days, they could not have sounded more glad or grateful. Listening to the welcome shouts of “Ninlil! Ninlil!” I turned the Gorder toward the next pocket of insurrection.
As we moved, the magick purled out of me in trickles. I gauged my reserves and calculated how long I could manage these two beasts. The Gorder, since it liked me, required less output. The Swordwraith fought my tether with each step, draining me faster. In time, I’d kill it and seek a more docile pet.
I went from zone to zone, destroying resistance and putting out fires. After each fight, I grew weaker. More exhausted. But I pressed on, hearing the screams in the night that said there was nobody else coming to save my people. The wreckage ravaged me; nothing so dire had happened inside Xibalba in living memory.
The streets ran with blood, choked with the detritus of fallen buildings. Corpses lay with no one to cart them away, and quasits shrieked and circled, diving to rend and gnaw the flesh. Noit sector, clear. Luren sector, fires out. In the Phalxe part of the city, I collected another pet, and added to my mental burden. The Wailer resembled an enormous stingray made of darkness and malice with a broad, flat mouth that hurled sonic screams at my enemies. They fell after one blast, eyes bleeding. I stopped casting entirely. Taking the wailer for my small army also meant hitting my limit. I could manage no more.
Pain became my constant companion as I swept the streets, searching for the Saremon who kept the Vortex down. I hit heavy resistance in the Mhizul quarter and I ducked low against the Gorder’s neck as a fireball exploded on the stones in front of me. The Swordwraith screamed and charged; it was all I could to aim it at the mage instead of the helpless mob fleeing before her.
Its long, bladed arms lashed out, severing the Saremon at the waist. The upper half of the body tilted and fell over while the legs took two more steps before buckling. Blood fountained up, slicking the streets, and the terrified cries increased until the citizens realized the Swordwraith wasn’t attacking them. The monsters trembled, tugging fiercely against my mental leash, but I held firm.
“Find shelter!” I called.
As one, the crowd dropped to its knees amid the carnage and bowed their heads. “Yes, my queen.”
“Now!”
They did as I bade them, running away toward the city center. The worst of the damage lay closer to the walls, where more monsters gathered. By dawn, I had quieted the last city block and turned toward the broken gates. There, a monstrous army gathered, but they were so wild with hunger and rage that they fought among themselves, just inside the city. My vision turned spotty from the effort of holding my three pets, and I could only send them all a vague order to attack.
The Swordwraith hurled itself into the fray, slicing limbs and veins and keening its vicious delight. The Wailer fluttered over the mass of beasts and aimed a shout that liquefied half their brains. A mob of monsters fell over, all wings and fangs and razor-sharp claws. The Gorder lashed and ate and smashed with its tail while I held on with the last of my last strength.
I must not falter. I must end this. For my people. My city.
The man I love.
Just when I thought blackness would overtake me, the battle ended. There remained only my three monsters and an endless corpse pile. The burning would take days without magickal assistance.
Only one more step. Almost there.
> “Find magick for me,” I whispered to my mount. “Strong magick.”
It stood to reason that the joint casting the Saremon had performed left a powerful trail. The Gorder was blind, but it had other senses. This might not work—
Then it fixed. A shudder ran along its awful length and it leveled two buildings, taking the most direct path. Its speed left the Swordwraith howling with rage, but the wailer kept pace above us, broad wings flapping lazily.
The Saremon mages heard us coming. They scrambled from their hiding place like rats, and once they moved, the Vortex snapped back into place, a swirling maelstrom of unthinkable power. There were twelve of them, fleeing before me in desperate terror. The wailer stunned them, unable to kill through their magickal protections, and I rode them down. My Gorder swallowed two in a delighted dip of its head, while the others trembled and begged. Their words fell like stones on my ears.
I slew them all.
Afterward, I ordered the wailer and the Swordwraith to fight to the death.
Their destruction eased my mental burden and kept me conscious, barely, as the Gorder carried me through the ruined city. As dawn broke, casting golden light over the shattered buildings, sorrow weighed on me. Though I’d slaughtered monsters and killed a number of Saremon, I hadn’t seen Oz anywhere.
Which meant he was still out there. Plotting.
He must own a particular madness, one such that he didn’t care what he destroyed if it wasn’t his. If I can’t possess it, then no one will. It was a brand of evil that troubled even me, who had once killed lovers as a precaution. I trembled with weariness. Nothing left to give. But at least I’d kept my word, protected the city to the best of my ability. We’d rebuild. Hunt down Oz and his few remaining rebels.
So tired.
“What am I going to do with you?” I whispered to the Gorder.
There could be no return to its life outside the walls, but the city was no place for such a huge beast. It had given up its home and hoard for me when I called, fought bravely, and I had no suitable reward. The monster whirred in its throat, delighted with my attention. It destroyed three more half-burned homes on the way back to the palace, and I closed my eyes against the dizziness. It got harder to stay on its shoulders, harder to keep the darkness at bay.
At last the crenellated walls rose in the distance before me, dark stone shining with silver streaks in the morning sun. It seemed quiet, despite the bodies piled outside. Citizens had thrown themselves at the walls in hope of finding sanctuary, but I was the only one who could have let them in; they’d fried on my protections. That was when I noticed the awful truth: No shimmering field prevented our entry.
At some point in the night, the wards had fallen.
The Running Game
The gates stood wide open. Not broken. As if someone had unbolted them from the inside. They were broad enough for me to pass through, riding, so I nudged the Gorder forward. The giant lizard-worm proceeded with caution, its blind face turning constantly toward a threat I couldn’t see.
I sensed it, though. Currents of distant magick warned of imminent danger. With my last burst of energy, I opened to the astral and saw smears of old spells all over the ether. In the courtyard, bodies lay everywhere, but the fighting wasn’t over. I charged into the melee—or rather, the Gorder did. These invaders had to be Xaraz; they reflected all demon castes and abilities, and only a handful of defenders remained, most bloody beyond belief, faces blackened with dirt.
The Saremon must have promised the Xaraz amnesty. They fought as if they had nothing to lose. Two Hazo went down the Gorder’s throat, but an Imaron slid under its guard. It slapped long-fingered hands onto the monster’s belly and began the drain. A shudder went through the enormous creature. Dying, I thought.
I had no magick left. As the Gorder shook, I vaulted down. My knees nearly buckled, and my head spun. I ran at the Imaron with only my athame, not because I thought I could defeat it in single combat, but because I couldn’t surrender. My one advantage was that the Gorder would recover if the demon broke physical contact, which meant it had to fight me one-handed.
Other monsters slunk closer. By their ragged clothes and shocking stench, they were all outcast. Noit, Mhizul, Luren, Hazo. There were just too many. Without the Gorder, I had no chance to defend the courtyard. If this Imaron turned into a Gorder once it completed the drain, then it was over. I struck from the side, but even in a weak, starving state, the Imaron knocked me away in a fierce blow. I was too tired. The other Xaraz pressed, encircling me. Tremors rocked my limbs, so powerful I could scarcely keep hold of my knife.
At least I die on my feet.
Beside me, the Gorder churred in a mournful dying song and its enormous body fell, crushing a couple of Noit. The Imaron’s skin rippled; that marked a transformation in progress. I should have charged then, but there were too many demons between us. Right then, they seemed to be assessing the threat I presented; if I took a single step, they’d attack.
It’s finished.
Then a blade impaled the Imaron from behind. Dark blood bubbled out from the wound as the sword withdrew. When the demon dropped, Shannon stood in a battle crouch. She flashed a grin. “The Hazo taught me a lot of shit while they had me. What did you think I was doing while they held me hostage?”
I had no reply as she whirled into motion. Chance and Greydusk came close behind, and I swayed as they fought. Better that I didn’t get in the way. Chance slammed a Noit with his frosted gloves, and the demon froze. With his unnatural strength, Greydusk broke it into fleshy demon chunks with an open-handed blow.
“What happened?” I asked, once they had cleared the courtyard.
“The Hazo turned. The palace has fallen.”
That made a horrific kind of sense. Only someone already inside the walls could have corrupted the wards so they failed. “Any idea why?”
Greydusk sighed. “Zet was Caim’s son.”
“So while he appreciated the promotion, he also bore a grudge.”
And so Caim has the last laugh, after all. Cunning bastard.
“But he’s clever for a Hazo,” Greydusk went on. “From what I can gather, he allied with Oz and they planned a two-pronged attack—”
“So that while I defended the city, I’d lose the castle.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, my queen.”
Pain suffused me. “By which you mean, we can’t win.”
“The entire Hazo caste has aligned with the Saremon, and they held their best mages. The ones who went to Vortex were…expendable.”
“Is there more bad news?”
“The Eshur and the Obsir have chosen. Your return created too much chaos. They seem to believe the Saremon are the best chance at restoring order. The Dohan, too, have turned.”
I nodded, battling complete despair. “What of the other castes?”
“They are loyal, my queen, but they are not strong enough to stand against the might arrayed against them. They will hide until the battle ends.”
That’s it, then.
I turned my exhausted mind toward an exit strategy. “Is the portal room still functional?”
“I believe so,” Greydusk replied.
At least I had that much luck remaining. I wished I’d paid more attention to Chance when he was talking about how his luck could affect me. It had seemed like such an unlikely consequence of loving him.
“Then that’s where we go. Long ago, I had them built in the event of another civil war. We’ll retreat to my mountain fortress and consider our next move.”
“It will be a difficult run, my queen. The castle is embattled and no route will be safe. We will encounter heavy resistance.”
“There’s no choice.” I held Greydusk’s look and saw he knew this. “If you have any magick in reserve, I can cast, if you’re willing to link with me.”
“Certainly, my queen.”
I took his hand and opened the channel. His strength made mine seem puny for the first time. I’d burned throug
h all my resources. Fortunately he had been more conservative and I took him to half before breaking the connection. At least I no longer felt like passing out.
“I could kill you.” Chance seized my shoulders and kissed me with all the pent-up rage and fear I’d thrust upon him by going out alone. I wrapped myself around him and fell into his desire.
When I broke away, I said, “I’m so sorry I scared you.”
My apology made him cant his head. “Corine…?”
Not surprisingly, he could tell who was ascendant. Ninlil never apologized for doing what she felt she must.
“Mostly, I think.”
Something flickered in his tiger’s eyes. “Is she…all right?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t know how I felt, realizing he was worried about the demon who had stolen half my brain. I mean, I knew they’d been together, sometimes without me—and I had seen most of it without being able to influence events—but this was—whatever. I put it aside for later contemplation.
Shannon yanked on his arm. “No offense, but this isn’t the time to chat with your girlfriend.”
“She’s right. This way.” Greydusk picked a path across the corpse-strewn stones. “There isn’t much time.”
“We have to fight to our quarters. I’m not leaving my mother’s grimoires. Or my dog.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Chance patted his backpack.
Then I noticed Shannon was already wearing hers. And incongruously, Greydusk carried my purse. Butch popped his head out.
“How?” I asked as we ran.
The Imaron explained. “When the wards went down, I suspected betrayal. I knew we had to be ready to move when you returned, so I ran to your rooms and gathered your things.”