“Something evil has escaped from this place. What is it?”
Again Diella smiled, stepping forward. By the wizard’s light, her face seemed not as pretty as Ariana’s, and still... she was Ariana. Ariana and not. Good and evil. Lost and yet to be lost.
“If you do as I request, I will tell you.”
He had no intention of giving this creature anything, but he asked, “What do you require?”
She approached him bravely, unafraid and obviously happy to be in possession of Ariana’s body. “I want a kiss.”
Sian had expected almost anything, but the request surprised him. “A kiss? Why?”
Ariana—the creature Diella who had possession of Ariana’s body—leaned against him. Her breasts brushed his chest. Her breath, warm and human, touched him. “When I lived, when I was here, I had the use of many men who serviced me as I required. The drug Panwyr causes a mighty surge of need which no man can truly satisfy, but they did try. With their inadequate cocks and their tongues and their fumbling hands, they gave me what I demanded of them. Sometimes I returned the favor when they had such a need. Sometimes I did not.” Her voice turned cold. “Sometimes I killed them with my bare hands. More than once I killed for a dose of the drug I came to love better than any man. I would kill for it now, if I had the chance. Does that surprise you, that a woman has the ability to do such a thing?”
“No.”
“Good. You should never underestimate the power of a woman. This one is strong, but...”
“But what?” Sian snapped.
Diella closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath that made her breasts swell. “I smell death on her. I smell the promise of the land I have not yet been allowed to pass into. Do you think it will be beautiful there?”
Not for you, I imagine. “I don’t know.”
“Neither do I,” she whispered. “Sometimes I long for that passage, but at other times I am afraid. I know not what awaits me there. Ah, I’ve been sidetracked. My kiss. You wonder why, when I have possession of this body and information that you require, I ask for something so insignificant as a kiss.”
“Yes.”
She rose up on her toes and whispered, “I want to feel again. I’m not talking about the meeting of two bodies. I’m not talking about sweat and invasion and release. Animals mate. Men have been known to take what they want with no consideration for the woman who lies beneath them. But a kiss is special. It’s sensation and affection and promise and... and life, all in the meeting of two mouths.”
“I have no affection for you,” Sian said coldly.
“No, but you do have some affection for this body.” She leaned in and whispered. “I saw you watch her. You want her. She wants you, too. I know, because even though I am at the surface at this moment, she is not gone. She’s very much here, and I can access the deepest reaches of her mind. Not all, not everywhere, but I can touch much of this woman and I know you make her tremble deep inside. I know she wonders what it would be like if you were lovers, if you came to her bed at night and made her scream. Not the way I made her scream, you understand.”
“Do not lie to me, demon woman. Ariana is a demure maiden who would not think of—”
The woman began to laugh before he could finish. “Demure maiden? I thought you knew her, but apparently you do not. She is no maiden, I assure you, and deep down she occasionally thinks of taking a lover to satisfy her womanly needs. In the back of her cluttered mind, she believes that you would do quite nicely.”
He did not intend to stand here and discuss Ariana with this thing that had taken control of her body. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“Kiss first,” she said, and then she grabbed his shirt front and dragged him down, placing her mouth on his and taking the kiss she demanded.
Sian did his best to remain distant and unaffected.
This was simply the price he had to pay for the information he needed. Unfortunately it was not easy to remain detached. The creature before him smelled like Ariana. She tasted like Ariana. The body that molded to his was Ariana’s. The hand that very boldly grabbed him where a demure maiden would not was Ariana’s. Against his wishes, he grew to fill that hand. Still kissing, she laughed, and she squeezed lightly.
He pulled away, and she didn’t seem to mind. The kiss was over. “You’re going to send her off to die without even a proper bedding. Not very generous of you, enchanter.”
He did not want to hurt Ariana, but this creature before him was not his student. She was not the firstborn Fyne child. She was one of the monsters Ariana had been chosen to fight. Sian grabbed her by the throat and held on tight. “Your price has been paid, so speak. What happened here?”
As if immune to the power of his hands, the creature smiled. “The Isen Demon happened here. It was born from a seed left dormant long ago. It grew strong here. The demon you seek is a stealer of souls and feeds from the dead, a creature from which other creatures hide once it grows as strong as this one.”
“How can it be stopped?”
With his hand on her throat constricting her, the empress answered, “It cannot be stopped, enchanter. With every soul that’s taken, the Isen Demon becomes stronger. It grows stronger and darker and hungrier with every passing day. You can’t stop it. She certainly can’t stop it. Perhaps you can make it hurt for a while if you take away the Panwyr, but the demon will find a way to possess what it needs. Souls and the drug that gives it life.” Her smile grew wide. “I’m glad I’m already dead. What’s to come isn’t going to be pleasant.” She closed her eyes and took another deep breath, a breath which was ragged, thanks to his grip. “I smell the Land of the Dead on her, but not on you. You’ll get to see it all, enchanter. You’ll live a long time, as wizards often do, and you’ll get to watch everything that matters to you crumble and die.”
***
Sian’s hand was on her throat, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t breathe! Ariana reached out to slap at the man who held her. What had happened? One minute she’d sensed a darkness surrounding her, and then... this.
He didn’t seem inclined to let her go. Ariana grabbed his sleeve. Beneath that sleeve was muscle hard as stone, firm and warm and strong. Much stronger than she. He was right; she was not made for fighting.
She lifted her face and looked into his eyes. The wizard’s light was a pale, gentle purple, but his eyes were dark and rich. They were enchanter eyes, and even in the dim light she could see the shift of color. Those eyes looked like a vast, deep ocean she could very easily fall into, and they were filled with life and power and pain. She had not seen the pain before, but when their eyes locked, she saw more of her new teacher than she had seen before.
He was not so cold as he pretended to be.
He flinched, and with suddenness he released his hold on her. “Ariana,” he said. “You’re back.”
“I didn’t go anywhere,” she responded, lifting a soothing hand to her throat.
“Yes, you did,” he snapped. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me that you’re an empath?”
“It’s part of the healing. I assumed you’d know—”
“Not all healers are empaths,” he interrupted. “Someone with your sensibilities should steer clear of dark places like this one, and you should’ve known that. You’re much too open to influences of all kinds.”
Influences like the darkness she had felt. “So I was—”
“Possessed,” Sian said sharply. “Yes.”
It was frightening to realize not only that another spirit had been in control of her body but that she didn’t remember a single moment of the encounter. Ariana was so very grateful that Sian had been here, and that he’d realized she was not herself.
“Did you learn anything?” she asked.
“I’ll tell you all about it later.” Sian shouted for the guards who waited above, and demanded that the rope be lowered. He then insisted that she climb up first, and she did not argue. She wanted out of this place. She wanted never to see�
��or feel—Level Thirteen again.
Climbing the rope wasn’t as easy as descending it had been, but Ariana managed. Anything to escape Level Thirteen. It was difficult to believe that Aunt Isadora had spent days in this place. When she reached the top, the guards assisted her. When she glanced down, Sian—who moved much more quickly than she—was already halfway up the rope. He moved with assurance and anger, as eager to escape as she had been.
She knew Sian was here only to prepare her for what was to come. He could be a soldier if he so wished, but he had told her with certainty that he would not fight with her when the time came. It was her calling to fight this war, not his.
Sian needed no assistance to bound from the hole in the floor. There was a touch of magic in the way he left Level Thirteen, almost as if he flew—a short distance and just for a moment.
He took her arm and together they walked toward the stairwell. Why did an enchanter have need of such strength? The man had muscles like the finest sentinel. Muscles he hid beneath a loose-fitting shirt. Muscles he had used to grip her throat—which was still sore from his tight, hold. Of course, she did understand that at the time he had not been gripping her.
“Well?” she asked as they entered the stairwell and left the guards—and Level Twelve—behind. “What did you learn?”
He moved too quickly, all but dragging her up the stairs. “We’re in trouble.”
***
Ariana had insisted on ministering to the emperor before Sian informed the man of his discoveries. Emperor Arik, seated by the window and visibly frail, was taken aback by Ariana’s unusual state of dress. Sick as he was, and old enough to be her father, Arik eventually smiled weakly and simply watched her. Ariana herself seemed oblivious to the way the emperor’s eyes studied her, not as a patient, but as a man.
The demon below had shared Ariana’s mind for a few moments. It was possible that she’d lied—those who embraced darkness were not wedded to the truth, after all—but it was also possible that she’d been telling the truth. Could it be that Ariana was no innocent maid? Was there more between her and the emperor than the healing Arik so desperately needed? Not now, certainly, when he was so ill, but in the past, perhaps?
Her hands did not seem hesitant to touch her patient, even though Arik was emperor, a man of the greatest authority. She smiled at him now and then, and the smile seemed kind enough—and also familiar, as if she considered him a friend.
Not that he cared, of course. Ariana was his student in the arena of magic. His job was to prepare her to march to her death. Her sexual liaisons past and future were of no concern to him. So, why did the very idea of her lying with this old man incense him?
Finally, after many long minutes, Ariana assured herself that the emperor was well enough for this conversation, and she stepped away from Arik.
The old man looked to Sian, his eyes full of questions.
“It started here,” Sian said simply. “Beneath the palace, in Level Thirteen. A demon, an Isen Demon, grew potent there and escaped, taking with it the souls of those who died in that horrible place.”
“How?” Arik asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve studied a bit of demonology over the years, but I am not an expert by any means. I’ll research the matter.”
“Do we have time enough for research?”
Sian could only be honest with the emperor. “Probably not. Not enough, anyway. If I can locate a wizard who is acquainted with the Isen Demon, it will save valuable time. Otherwise I’ll be searching through documents for months, and I suspect we don’t have months.”
Ariana spoke up. “There are many fine wizards in the Circle of Bacwyr. Perhaps we should collect Lyr before we go to Keelia, and while we’re there, we can interview the Circle wizards and find one who’s familiar with demonology and the Isen Demon.”
“Perhaps,” Sian said. “I have not yet decided.”
“There are many journals on Level Seven, where witches and wizards of the palace have always practiced. Perhaps you will find what you need there.”
“I’ll study these journals.” Sian liked the idea of exposing Ariana to battle less and less. Maiden or not, she was a woman. A healer. An empath. How could an empath do battle? How could an empath kill, as Ariana would surely need to do? He might as well walk her to the edge of a cliff and toss her over the side. She’d have as much a chance of survival, and suffer much less pain. As for the other suggestion, it was too soon. We will not be making our journey to Queen Keelia or to Lyr in the very near future.”
“But—” Ariana began, ready to argue with him.
“You are not ready.” With that, he turned his back on her and walked away, opening the doors with a flick of his wrist and making haste for his quarters. He had lessons to plan, and he could not offer all of them himself. Ariana would need the tutoring of a swordsman, an herbalist, a foot soldier, and a shaman if she were to survive long enough to do her part in this dreadful war that was coming.
***
Ciro stood at the window and watched Rayne work in the garden. A part of him wanted to join her, but he no longer cared for the sun. It burned his skin and all but blinded him. No, these days he was much fonder of the night.
He was also fond of watching Rayne. She was beautiful, but what appealed to him went deeper than that. She was so fine, so good, a light shone from her soul. He could see it now, as if the light of her soul radiated from her body and became as tangible as the breasts, the hair, the long, fair limbs. The light of her soul kept Rayne from him for now, but soon he would be strong enough to take it from her.
He wanted more from her than her soul, as any needful man would, but her body would only be an appetizer, something to whet his hunger for her soul.
When he was strong enough, he would take both at his leisure.
He heard footsteps in the hallway outside his room. Strange how his senses had heightened in the past few months. He knew the footsteps were coming to his room. Fynnian’s step he recognized. The other... the other was a woman. A frightened woman who took quick, light steps toward a destiny of which she was blissfully unaware.
Watching Rayne below was nice, but he needed more. He was so hungry.
Fynnian did not knock, but walked into the room with confidence. He’d have to speak to Fynnian about that action. It was rude. It was not befitting the power Ciro now possessed.
The girl was half-hidden, standing behind Fynnian with her eyes downcast. Her hair was an ordinary brown, as was the dim light of her soul that made Ciro hurt to be fed. Until now, he had only been able to take a soul—gray or dark—with permission, but he felt stronger today, and this woman’s soul was so tainted it was possible... very possible... that he could simply take what he wanted without asking.
“Prince Ciro, this young lady is Elen. I purchased her for you.”
“My own slave,” Ciro said as he walked away from the window, taking care not to step into the sunlight that streamed through the window. “Let me have a look at her.”
Fynnian grabbed the girl by the back of her ill-fitted frock and pulled her forward. Ciro could not see her face, as she kept her head down. Her hair was lank and in need of washing. Her clothes were worn, dirty and torn at the hem.
“I said, let me have a look at her!” Ciro said sharply.
The girl lifted her head slowly, and Ciro was pleasantly surprised. Her face, while dirty, was very pretty. The features were even and the skin was pale and smooth. Her eyes were bright, and a fetching shade of blue. If she’d been a slave for very long, her work had not been of the outdoor sort.
Fynnian smiled and stepped into a corner of the room, where he took a chair and settled down to watch. The man was smug. Confident. Yes, this was the wizard’s house, but he had been taking too many liberties of late.
Ciro motioned for the woman to move into an opposite corner, and turned his attention to Fynnian. “You are dismissed,” he said with confidence.
Fynnian’s smile faded quickly. “You hav
e never objected to my presence in the past.”
“I object now,” Ciro said. He didn’t want Fynnian to know if he was able to take souls without being granted permission. He also didn’t want the old man watching if he attempted such and failed. “Leave us.”
Moving too slowly and with great caution, Fynnian rose to his feet. He looked at the girl, then at Ciro, as he made his way toward the door. “If there’s trouble, I must be here to—”
“There will be no trouble,” Ciro assured his mentor. “Leave us. Now.”
Unhappy about the situation, but unable to do anything more, Fynnian left the room, closing the door behind him. Ciro bolted that door, in case the old man had any ideas about returning uninvited.
Ciro turned and leaned against the door. The girl trembled, but just a little. “Close the curtains,” he commanded.
Elen scurried to do as he said, yanking the heavy drapes shut so that no sunlight shone through. It took only a moment for Ciro’s eyes to adjust completely to the new darkness. Outside the sun shone, but in this room there was not a hint of daylight.
“Remove your clothing,” Ciro whispered.
Elen quickly did so, not even bothering to pretend to be demure, not even caring to cover her most private parts as she revealed a body fine enough to match the face. How many men had she spread her legs for? How much tainted seed had she taken into her body? He did not know how or why, but something deep inside warned him to beware of tainting his body with that which was possibly diseased.
When the day came that he could feed himself with untainted souls, he would be unstoppable, and he could do no damage to this body. As the process was not yet complete, he still had to take care.
“Undress me.” He stood in the middle of the room, arms lifted, so that Elen could do as he ordered. She thought he would bed her, and he allowed her to continue to believe that as she unfastened buttons and ties and very carefully laid his clothes aside. She couldn’t see as well as he in the dark room, so her hands occasionally fumbled as she completed her task. He could not help but notice, as her trembling hands groped in the dark, that she was very small. Not only small, but insignificant. Of no more importance than a spider or a flea.
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