by Randi Darren
***
Sam and Abrah were admitted into the castle very quickly. To the point that Sam had to wonder if Timithy didn’t already contemplate the possibility of what Sam was planning.
Though, to be fair, he’s likely thinking that if I had wanted control, I would have taken it earlier. Coming to do it now… isn’t exactly the expected course of action.
“His security is very lax,” complained Abrah, turning to look at Sam across the table. Her hair was styled and her clothes were clean and fit her very well.
Sam had cleaned her up with a flick of a finger. She’d gone from looking like someone who’d starred in sixteen adult films back to back, to being fresh as a daisy.
He’d even gone as far as to give her some Essence. It wouldn’t do not to reward her for her efforts in the bedroom. She’d be that much more willing to assist him in the future for a repeat, he imagined.
“To be fair, I’m sure he had people watching your home,” countered Sam. He was fairly certain it was true, too. “I doubt anyone could have missed our fun. You were quite loud.”
Abrah shrugged her shoulders to that, looking somewhat unsure.
“I mean, you bedding me was a given considering I was your prize. I don’t see how that would affect his security,” argued Abrah. “Whether or not they could hear me is irrelevant. Isn’t it?”
Apparently, she had as little shame as the women plying their trade in the streets. Hell certainly had no qualms about sex.
Sam realized his thoughts about why Timithy might not worry over Sam was null. Abrah had just reminded him inadvertently that Hell was a very different place.
There must be a different reason Timithy was confident in Sam’s being here. That or he was just accepting of the situation.
Nodding his head, Sam didn’t argue the point any further. Instead, he continued to slowly build the entrapment spell he was creating. He didn’t want Timithy getting away once he got him alone.
With a pop, the door opened to the side and Timithy Klesick, the city lord, came into the meeting room.
“I’m so sorry about that. I was in the middle of my mistress and I really wanted to finish,” apologized the Demon. Coming over to the table where Abrah and Sam sat, he pulled out a chair and dropped into it. “So, what can I do for you?”
“I need your city,” Sam said simply. “You can give it over to Abrah and walk away, or I can drain you of your Life Essence and speed you on to the afterlife.”
Timithy blinked slowly then shook his head.
“I won’t be doing that. This is a title I earned on my own. I brought the city of Klesick into existence.
“I did it with my own two hands and my determination. No one can take that from me. It’s mine. I’ll not just hand it over.
“You may or may not be Lord Lust, but that doesn’t mean you can just—”
Timithy’s voice trailed off to nothing as Sam clamped down on the Demon with the spell he’d set up. No longer was the city lord able to speak or even breathe.
“That’s a pity,” Sam said and then looked to Abrah. “You can take over once he’s eliminated, right? You don’t need him at all?”
“I… no. I do not,” Abrah said in a subdued voice. Apparently, the fact that Sam had just completely neutralized Timithy was humbling to her. “Thank you for sparing me, Timithy, by giving me to Lord Lust. It seems you sealed your own fate in doing so.”
Sam looked back at Timithy who was now well on his way to expiring from asphyxiation. There was nothing the city lord could do to stop Sam.
His defiance really only cost him his own life and nothing else.
“Dying for a moral that no one would begrudge him for… what a waste,” muttered Sam, and then summoned his Essence blade into his hand. Reaching across the table, he casually stuck it into Timithy’s guts.
If Sam was asked to die for the sake of a belief or a moral, he’d most certainly back down. Being alive was always preferable as one could easily pick that moral or belief back up afterward.
Dying for a moral seemed like the ultimate waste to Sam. Especially in a situation like this one. No one would even know Timithy died in defense of his title.
In the span of ten seconds, the city lord of Klesick was drained of all his Life Essence. There wasn’t a drop left in his body when Sam finished.
Releasing the soul to the afterlife, Sam felt no guilt at killing the man whatsoever. Much as he’d reasoned with himself during the battle, all he’d done was kill his foe.
“Hmph. That’s that,” Sam said and then pulled his sword out of Timithy. With his free hand, he made a squeezing gesture.
The body of the city lord was compacted into itself with a sickening squelch that was followed by the crack and pop of bones.
Slowly, Timithy was turned into a small lump of dark-brown mud. Little larger than a closed fist and looking not at all like a corpse.
Getting out of his seat, Sam picked up the squishy, wet ball then walked over to a window. Casually as could be, he tossed it out and then looked at Abrah.
“Well, that’s done. What’s next?” Sam asked. His goal was very simple and he wasn’t going to let much stand in his way.
Getting home.
“I need to get a hold of the leaders of Klesick. Especially the generals,” Abrah said and stood up from her seat. “Would you accompany me, Lord Lust?”
“Please, call me Sam. Or at least, when we’re in private. There’s really no reason to address me as such when no one’s around.”
Coming to stand just to the side of Abrah, Sam tilted his head and grinned at her.
“Besides, you screamed ‘Lord Lust’ enough earlier. I look forward to this evening when I get you back in bed,” Sam said with a promise. Irma and Carissa were willing participants, but the simple reality was he’d generate more Essence using Abrah.
Not to mention, she responded better physically to the abuse.
This wasn’t about love making at the moment, it was about wild hot Essence-generating sex.
“I— yes. I look forward to it as well,” Abrah said, though she looked somewhat pained. Concerned even. “Though, I haven’t been able to—”
There was a loud clang at the main door. The one where Abrah and Sam had entered.
It was followed by another bang, then the door flew open.
A host of guards holding weapons flooded into the room. There were Cambion, Demon, and lesser Cambion throughout.
Both men and women, surprisingly.
“I’ve slain the city lord,” Abrah declared as a Cambion with a sword came straight at her. “I therefore claim the position of—”
The Cambion swung out at Abrah, not waiting for her to even finish speaking. Their sword whistled through the air.
Sam didn’t have a chance to even act.
Abrah blocked the strike, yanked the weapon from the Cambion’s hands, and then put it through their face. The blade of the sword came out the back of their skull. The helmet and its attached visor were crumpled around the weapon.
Yanking the weapon out of the now brain-dead Cambion, Abrah brought the sword closer to herself. Sniffing once, she looked bored and annoyed.
“Would anyone else like to test me?” asked Abrah. “There’s a reason Timithy didn’t fight me directly, you know. Why he forced it to be a pitched battle. No one is my equal in combat.
“Well… except Lord Lust. I am not his equal in any way. Nor is anyone.”
Abrah gestured to Sam at her side with her left hand.
Her speech had the desired effect. Everyone apparently remembered that he was there, and who he was. On top of that, it was obvious the words about her martial prowess were true.
“Wonderful. With that being done, someone go fetch me whoever was serving Timithy as his advisers and whatever heads of state he had,” commanded Abrah. “I’m afraid I haven’t been back to the city in so long that I have no news of who serves what positions.”
Ah. That’d explain why most of her possessi
ons at her home seemed to be old or unused. She wasn’t actively living there.
Though… someone was taking care of it. There wasn’t any dust at all.
Abrah stared at the guards and soldiers who were spread throughout the area. No one was moving.
“Get moving or I start killing,” Abrah promised. She lifted up the blade at her side as if to emphasize the point. “Or I let Lord Lust relieve you of your soul. I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors by this point.
“Lord Lust of the third tower, a Lord of Hell has returned. He’s starting with Klesick and is very hungry.”
A number of guards in slightly different uniforms rushed to the front of the group, while a few others left the room at a trot.
They all began apologizing and offering their well wishes to Abrah. Hoping that they would be able to serve her in the same capacity and high standards that they’d offered to Klesick.
Each and every one of them kept their distance from Sam. They did their best to stay as far away from him as possible.
All while avoiding eye contact with him and pretending that he didn’t exist, but without doing anything to offend him.
Hm.
I wonder whatever happened to my tower. I did open my first plane directly from there. Didn’t end up taking anything from there in the end.
Just walked on through and started over, leaving it under the control of those I left behind
Reaching up with one hand, Sam began to lightly stroke his jaw and chin with several fingers. If he had the time, it would be enjoyable to go take a look at his tower.
Though… it’s somewhat concerning that rumors are spreading about me. Rumors that actually identify exactly who I am.
I’ll have to ask Abrah and others about it. See what they really know.
On top of that, I’ll have to figure out something to do with Carissa and Irma. They’ll be targeted after this. There’s no telling what old friends of mine might come calling.
Grimacing, Sam let his mind wander to the ever-building problems. He’d solved one, only for a great many more to pop up.
Thirteen - Taking Control -
Abrah was led into what Sam would consider a throne room.
It was over-decorated, carved, and loaded with furniture that would clearly have taken an excessive amount of materials to make.
Given the situation in Hell was one of extreme scarcity, this was a vast amount of wealth on display.
None of it mattered at all to Sam, of course. The trappings of wealth had long since lost their luster to him.
Trailing along quietly behind the group, Sam couldn’t help but smile as the group of people got Abrah to sit down on the throne. Once more, they all clustered around her and continued to offer their congratulations.
Sam wandered off to the side of the room and took a seat in one of the chairs there. He didn’t need to be directly involved in this. Right now, he really just needed to focus on shaving what he could off of the imprisonment spell.
He had the resources, ability, and the luxury of free time that he couldn’t spend on much else. This was a perfect opportunity to work on it.
Making himself comfortable, Sam adjusted his clothes and inspected the room one more time. The last thing he wanted to do was to delve into something as dangerous as this without being assured of the safety to do so.
Abrah was sitting on the throne, listening to all the newly-minted sycophants who were bleating at her. She looked over at him once and gave him a wry smirk before turning back to the gathering.
Well. Seems like she knew it would be like this. That certainly helps ease my concerns.
We’ll just not go as deeply into this carving session. Keep some awareness above water, so to speak.
Turning his awareness toward the spell that hung on him, Sam grabbed hold of his Essence. Molding it into a thin frame, he began to scrape at Jena’s spell.
Mindlessly, with a maddeningly slow pace, Sam worked. Picking and chipping at the spell with his Essence. Almost like one might work at peeling off the remains of a sticker from a cup with a fingernail.
As he worked, though, something he hadn’t expected was coming to light for Sam. The longer he clawed at the spell, the more it resisted his efforts.
In an almost active way.
Like it has a mind of its own.
Sam paused in his work to consider what was happening. He’d dismissed it for quite a while as he was fairly certain he was overthinking it. But now, he was positive of it. There was really no other explanation.
Laying his magic-worked Essence frame to the spell, he slid it along. Finding an edge he could pry up, he wiggled the Essence into it.
Instead of working to pop it free, which is what he’d done every time up to this point, he waited. He wanted to see what would happen if he did nothing.
In a clear and obvious response to his finding a point to work at, it was suddenly reinforced. Fresh Essence was being applied to the spell from an external source.
It wasn’t increasing the size of the spell at all, but it was certainly trying to keep Sam from breaking more of it away.
Did… Jena… leave behind a pin in it? Can she track me with this spell?
I imagine the moment I began working at it, she not only knew I was alive, but unwinding the work she’d done.
Though… doesn’t that mean… that I could trace it back to her?
In fact…in fact, if I took this spell as a whole, couldn’t I reverse it? There’s a lot of power here. Rather than work to eliminate it, I could use it against her, couldn’t I?
I can use her active reinforcement as a way to follow it back to her. Back to her and then… attack her? Locate her?
What all can I do?
Hm.
Easing up from his work, Sam set it aside. It was something to consider. If he could get it to work in the way he wished, he might be able to not just free himself from the spell, but attack Jena.
Blinking several times, Sam looked up from his lap to the throne.
Off to one side was a large pile of bodies. Many of them appeared to have been broken in multiple places. In fact, some of the people in that mound were still alive, moaning and wriggling amongst the bodies.
“That’s certainly unexpected,” Sam murmured, looking from the pile to the room itself. It was otherwise unchanged except for a few pools of blood here and there.
Turning to gaze at the throne, Sam found Abrah sitting there with a sword across her knees. She was looking back at him.
“Family, friends, and loyal retainers to Timithy,” Abrah declared. “In fighting for his title, he had doomed not just himself. I can’t leave such a weapon unbroken.
“Otherwise, others will pick it up to use it against me. Fight me based on the remains of a claim from another.
“After all, it’s how I myself had a valid right to the city. A remainder from a previous claimant that wasn’t completely wiped out. I’ll not let the same happen to me.”
“That certainly seems fair, though, there are those still alive,” Sam said in a dull tone. He pointed toward the mound in question. “That’s just distasteful. Rude, even, if you give it a thought at all. Be a Demon-Knight, not a Demon-Thug. They might need to die, but we can do it efficiently.”
Abrah slowly looked away from Sam, apparently unable to meet his gaze. She likely wasn’t quite sure how his views would fit into the world of Hell, but she didn’t wish to naysay him.
Sam was of the belief that if people needed to be slain, then they would be slain. In this case, there was no reason at all to torture them in their final hours.
There was no point in it other than for the sake of cruelty.
“Yes, my lord. My apologies,” Abrah said, getting up from her throne. “That’s unbecoming of me as your Demon-Knight. You’re absolutely correct.”
Moving over to the bodies, she began to systematically pull each one free, slit its throat, and then set it aside.
Even the unmoving bodies were given
the same treatment. Just to ensure there was no one lingering with the vestiges of life.
“Good,” Sam said, getting up out of his chair. He slowly began to walk in her direction, putting his hands behind his back as he did so. “Did I miss anything?”
“No. Just taking over,” Abrah said with a grunt as she pulled a body out of the mess. Dropping it to the ground, she pulled the dagger over and then slit its throat. There was no response at all from the corpse.
Picking it up, she tossed it onto the new pile, set the dagger down, and grabbed another. She was quite determined to resolve the issue.
“Anything you need help with?” Sam asked, watching her work critically. If he was going to attach his name to her, he needed her to be exactly what he wanted.
He wasn’t going to be able to escape his older moniker of Lord Lust of the Third Tower. Which meant he had to update it.
Bring it around to where he wanted it to be.
Which would be efficient, brutal if it had to be, though clean and clinical otherwise. If people had to die, they would die.
Just in a very logical and precise manner that minimized resources used and suffering inflicted.
“Yes, my lord. I’d like to use your brand upon others. Do I have your permission to do so?” Abrah asked, pausing in her work to look at him. “I would like to ensure their loyalty to me.”
“Oh. Yes. That’s fine. So long as they’re willing to be branded, you may brand them with the one I put upon you. Though I’ll give you no control,” Sam warned. “You’ll just be binding them to me, not you.”
“That’s fine. In binding to you, they’ll be unable to betray me,” Abrah reasoned. “As harming me, who works only for you, is betraying you.”
Nodding her head once, she looked like that satisfied her.
“Additionally, I’ll need you to feed me more Essence tonight,” proclaimed Abrah. “In the mortal night hours, that is.
“Your Essence is far more powerful than I expected. It’s given me a lot more power to work with. Few could stand up to me before based on my own Essence generation through combat.
“Yours is on another level entirely, my Lord Lust. I must have more of it.”