Defiler

by Isaac Hooke

  She paused in rubbing her head to stare at him open-mouthed. “Abandon you?”

  “You already tried to run away once before,” he reminded her.

  “Oh,” she said. “That. Yes, well, I told you I planned to return. I have sworn to save you from the Darkness, remember?”

  He scowled. “And you forget I don’t need saving.”

  She smiled sadly. “It doesn’t matter. Saving or no, I will fight at your side through hell.” She lowered her gaze, and added softly: “What do you think the past six months have been for me?”

  Images of their lovemaking from the day before flashed into his mind, but it wasn’t the sensual aspect he remembered, but something worse: the scars crisscrossing her back. Scars caused by his own hand.

  “I haven’t treated you as well as I could,” Malem admitted. “I know that.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’ve left you with all those scars on your back. As soon as Weyanna enters, I’m ordering her to heal them.”

  “No, I want my scars,” Gwenfrieda said quickly. “They’re part of who I am.”

  “But—”

  “No,” Gwenfrieda said. “I need to remind myself of what will happen if we ever lose to a Balor again. Maybe when Vorgon is destroyed, I’ll let her heal me. But until then…”

  Again he felt a rise of anger. Though it seemed lesser than it should have been. “Vorgon will never die. Keep your scars, then.”

  Abigail emerged before she could answer. Unfortunately, Gwenfrieda was still in front of the portal and the half dragon stepped right into her. “Oof!”

  “Get out of the way,” Malem said. “Unless you want the next person to walk into you.”

  “I see that.” Abigail quickly scooted from the opening with Gwenfrieda.

  The flaming globe had followed Abigail inside, but she dismissed it since the illumination wasn’t necessary given the current light levels.

  The other companions entered in turn, all save Ziatrice.

  Goldenthall, the possessed king, emerged in the full glory of his ragged robes, followed by Xaxia leading her large stallion in by the reins, and lastly Timlir, similarly guiding his pony. The animals still exhibited the sense of calm that came from Malem’s Breaking. He fed a small dollop of stamina to the beasts in reward.

  “Do you sense Vorgon?” Weyanna asked.

  He nodded. “Vorgon is still in my head, but distant. I can’t speak to him.” He glanced at Xaxia. “You were right.”

  She nodded. “He will remain distant until he returns to our realm. Even when he does, I doubt he’ll be able to influence you. But it’s possible. Which is why we should set out as soon as possible.”

  Malem nodded. “I agree.”

  He glanced at Goldenthall, and couldn’t suppress a sudden smirk.

  I’m looking forward to killing the owner of your vessel.

  Goldenthall’s eyes seemed to twinkle in sudden amusement, as if he could sense Malem’s thoughts, but the former king said nothing.

  “All right,” Malem said. “So. Before you become dragons, we need to figure out where we’re going.” He glanced at Goldenthall, and beckoned toward the dreary black dunes around him. “If this realm mirrors our world, where are the tents of Vorgon’s army? Or the trees of the copse? Also, I entered the Black Realm on a rooftop in Tartan once before, but I also stood in an empty desert much like this. There were no buildings. The city was completely gone around me.”

  “The locations overlap with our world,” Goldenthall said. “But the landscape is different. There are no plants, no animals, nor objects made by man and beast. There is just the black sand in most places. That, and mountains. What you are seeing here is a glimpse of what Vorgon, and all other Balors, would make of our realm.”

  “Even Banvil would do this?” Malem asked.

  “Even Banvil,” Goldenthall replied. “Especially Banvil. He is no different than other Balors. Vorgon, Banvil, Denfidal… they are all the same. You see, in untouched realms like our own, the essence of life is in balance, shared among all living things. You know this essence as stamina. By destroying everything that lives in our realm, all plants, all beasts, Vorgon frees up that essence for the demon’s potential use. So far, Vorgon hasn’t been able to tap into the stamina reserves that all the wanton death and destruction has unlocked. But once the demon does, Vorgon will become all powerful: able to shape and destroy at will.”

  “Vorgon needs Wendolin to access those reserves,” Malem said.

  “That’s right,” Goldenthall agreed.

  “Why?” Malem said.

  Goldenthall scratched his chin. “I’m not sure how to explain it. I’m not sure I understand it myself. Are you sure you want to know? Do we have time?”

  Malem shrugged. “Time passes more slowly here, remember?”

  Goldenthall shrugged. “Very well. You see, the essences of each race are slightly different. Monsters, who entered our world from the Black Realm, are all born with its essence inside them. When they mated with the humans and other creatures of your realm long ago, they created hybrids containing intersections of both essences. Some of these hybrids developed into the different races you know… the Eldritch, night elves, dwarves, and so forth. These races have mostly Black essence inside them, with only a small amount of the essence from our world. However, when a human again mates with one of these hybrid races, the immediate offspring have a balance of both essences.”

  Malem wondered if that had something to do with why Breaking half monsters boosted his powers.

  “In any case,” Goldenthall continued. “There are always certain hybrid individuals, usually one or two in each realm, who act as focal points for the different essences, where the lines of stamina from both worlds intercept. A creature like a Balor, powerful enough to access the reserve essence of its own realm—which admittedly isn’t very much—can use these individuals to access the unlocked essence of the conquered world. Wendolin is one of these.”

  “Why can’t I access the reserves through her?” Malem asked.

  Goldenthall stared at him in puzzlement, then guffawed. “Because you’re not a Balor, idiot! Though you might think yourself one.”

  Strangely, Malem didn’t feel the usual rising anger that came when someone insulted him. He wondered if that was because Vorgon felt so distant.

  “Anyway,” Goldenthall continued. “Once Vorgon Breaks Wendolin, he’ll be able to access the freed essence, and at that point he’ll essentially become invincible, regenerating in our world without need of a trip to the Balor’s favorite nether realm. It will allow the creature to accelerate the destruction of our world.”

  “Why doesn’t he do that here, in the Black Realm?” Malem said. “Destroy all life here instead? Why our world?”

  “The Balors war often, striving for that very thing,” Goldenthall said. “Because the same rules apply. The essence is shared among all denizens of the Black Realm, including the Balors themselves. And they don’t need the equivalent of a Wendolin to access any stamina they free up by the death and destruction. But understand, Vorgon is currently the lone Balor in our realm. When the demon destroys all life, Vorgon will not need to share the surplus essence with other Balors. So you can see the temptation. The only thing Vorgon will have to worry about will be preventing other Balors from entering our world once it is conquered, but that will be easy with the power Vorgon will wield at that point.”

  Malem shook his head. “All right. Fun story.” He didn’t really care if Vorgon conquered the world at this point—Malem wouldn’t be around to see any of it in any case. He glanced at the dragons. “It’s time to transform, and start heading toward our destination.”

  “We never did discuss how we planned to navigate…” Abigail said. “Considering we don’t have the usual landmarks and other territorial markers?” She pointed out the bleak dunes around them.

  “Oh yeah…”

  “I can sense Banvil at my core,” Goldenthall said. “I will be your compass.”
>
  Malem studied the man uncertainly. “And if you make a mistake?”

  The former king shrugged. “Then we’ll get lost, and never return.”

  “Oh, we’ll return all right,” Malem said. “I can use my own link with Ziatrice to guide us back.”

  “There you have it,” Goldenthall said cheerily. “We’re set. Let’s be off then, shall we?”

  “I almost wish we did get lost,” Gwenfrieda said softly.

  Malem ignored the comment.

  The four Metal dragons transformed.

  Timlir gazed at the towering, majestic creatures with mouth agape. Goldenthall was little different.

  Xaxia glanced at Timlir. “You’re still here? I thought you wanted to seek your wife?”

  Timlir seemed to realize he was still staring open-mouthed at the dragons; the dwarf promptly clamped his lips shut and pretended not to care.

  “In due time,” Timlir said. He turned toward Malem. “I will help you find this Balor of yours. After that, I will depart to seek my wife.”

  “While we could use your blade, that’s not entirely necessary,” Malem said. He nodded at the dragons. “We’re well equipped to handle whatever comes our way.”

  “It is necessary, to me,” Timlir said. “We dwarves believe in fulfilling our debts. You brought me here, so I have a debt to you. I will not leave you so soon. Besides, my wife could be anywhere in this place. Who knows, maybe by going with you, I’ll end up nearer to her?”

  Malem, Gwenfrieda, Mauritania, and Xaxia rode on the backs of Abigail, Weyanna, Sylfi, and Brita respectively. The dragons carried the remaining members of the team—Goldenthall, Timlir, and the two horses—distributed among their fore claws.

  “I’ve never been treated with such disrespect in my life!” Timlir exclaimed as Weyanna, his bearer, took flight. “Carried in the claws of a dragon! Manhandled! The insult!”

  “We’re flying!” Goldenthall shouted for joy from Abigail’s claws. He said something else, but Abigail picked up speed, and the wind produced by her flight muted the words.

  33

  The rolling dunes moved past below Malem as the dragons headed to the southeast. Abigail took the lead; she occasionally lifted Goldenthall to her head so the man could scream directions in her ear.

  Half an hour passed. In the real world, by then the Wilden plains would have been ceding to the Harken mountain range, where the Metals once resided, but the landscape remained featureless below, the dunes continuing in all directs as far as the eye could see, a testament to the differences between this realm and his own.

  The rest of the flight proved relatively uneventful. Occasionally the dragons flew over herds of strange black creatures. Upon sighting the dragons, the multi-legged things dispersed like disturbed wildebeests, hooting and howling as they fled. One time, a group of similar-sized monsters burst from the sand to hunt them. Fast, four-legged things whose razor-sharp teeth were visible even from up here. Whenever one of them latched onto their prey, more would surround the victim, and together they’d pull them under the sand, no doubt to devour them.

  Sometimes he saw larger entities on the distant horizons, creatures whose forms were utterly alien. Shadowy, terrifying things that he never wanted to encounter. If ever he spotted such towering monstrosities ahead, Malem always sent Abigail a mental note to give them a wide berth.

  A north-south trending ridge appeared to the west.

  Abigail lifted Goldenthall to her head for the latest update, and she altered course so that she was heading toward the mountains.

  Goldenthall tells me we’re getting close, she sent. We’ve entered the equivalent of Mulhadden in our world.

  Mulhadden, huh? Gwenfrieda said. Looks like one of the seven circles of hell to me.

  Killjoy, Brita said.

  It was good to see the latter dragon loosen up a bit. Malem just wished he had more time with them.

  He caressed the pearl at his belt, reminding himself why he had come.

  You hunted me my entire life, Banvil. And now you will pay.

  A strange thought came a moment later. Something he couldn’t understand.

  I had Banvil at my mercy before. Why did I spare him?

  The memory was strangely foggy. But then he remembered: I needed him for my powers to remain intact. But I have Vorgon now, and have no use for Banvil.

  Yes. The Balor would pay.

  When Abigail reached the mountain ridge, she turned south to lead the dragons parallel to the mountains. She came as close as the shoulders, but was otherwise careful not to fly over any of the actual mountains themselves.

  Worried about air attacks? he asked her.

  You read my mind, she replied. Who knows what black denizens sleep in these mountains?

  After a short while, more mountains began to appear ahead, joining the north-south ridge to form an L shape. Most of those mountains were obviously volcanic, with sharp tips spouting plumes of smoke, as if recently erupted—or preparing to. One of those volcanoes, the largest and most distant, was erupting at that very moment, with red lava spewing from its magma-tipped peak.

  Abigail lifted Goldenthall to her head again.

  You see that volcano? Abigail sent. That is where Denfidal resides.

  Den who? Malem asked.

  A Balor, Abigail explained. The demon that has taken over Banvil’s territory. We must land here, and continue on foot, otherwise, we risk alerting the Balor to our presence. Trust me, we don’t want to fight this thing.

  Oh I trust you, he sent. Let’s land.

  The dragons swooped down, heading toward the shoulder of the closest mountain. The dunes there had ceded to pumice and obsidian so that, when the dragons landed, the rocks shattered and cracked beneath them.

  The dragons released the charges they held in their claws, and the horses stumbled upon the rocks. Malem had to calm the rising panic he felt among the animals, lest they break a leg. Timlir, newly released, rushed to his pony.

  Xaxia dismounted, sliding down the wings of Brita, and hurried to her own animal.

  “Whose idea was it to bring the horses along again?” Mauritania commented.

  “It’s okay, Vesuvius!” Xaxia steadied her animal, and helped it find a stable route across the rocks.

  “There’s a path here,” Gwenfrieda said, standing on the shoulder some distance above the others. Timlir and Xaxia helped their animals pick their way to that path, which was wide enough for four horses to travel abreast.

  “That’s better,” Timlir said. “I was worried we were going to have to abandon our mounts, because there was no way Stridesfast would have been able to cross this otherwise!” He caressed the pony’s flanks. “Your poor, precious feet.”

  “Shall we stay in dragon form?” Weyanna asked. “And just stick to the shoulder of the mountain?”

  “I’d recommend transforming back,” Goldenthall said. “There’s less of a chance Denfidal will spot four humans on the shoulder of the mountains in his domains, versus four dragons.”

  The dragons returned to human form, and Malem resisted the urge to stare at their naked bodies. He didn’t want to distract himself from what lay ahead. Besides, he’d had his fill of debauchery the entire day and night before.

  Goldenthall meanwhile had no such qualms, and stared at the women with obvious lechery.

  “Mind averting your eyes?” Malem asked dangerously.

  Goldenthall glanced at him, and when he saw the dark look in Malem’s eyes, promptly turned around. Malem realized fresh dark mist was flowing from his fingertips.

  Mauritania and Gwenfrieda doled out the spare clothes they had carried for the dragons in their packs, and in moments Abigail and Weyanna wore their usual style of dresses, while Sylfi and Brita were garbed in leggings, skirts, and tight blouses. They hadn’t brought weapons. Well, Malem figured, if they were attacked, they could just transform anyway.

  Malem surveyed his surroundings. “Are we close to Tartan?”

  “Very close,�
� Goldenthall answered.

  Malem frowned, fearing deceit. “I don’t remember so many mountains the last time I was here, when I fought Banvil.”

  “That’s because Denfidal created them,” Goldenthall said. “He owns a good portion of this realm. And he has great power.”

  “And yet Banvil flaunts Denfidal by hiding in the demon’s territory,” Malem said.

  Goldenthall shrugged. “Banvil still feels this territory is his.”

  “And the Balor knows we’re here right?” Malem said. “Thanks to you.”

  “Banvil knows,” Goldenthall agreed.

  Malem reached out with his beast sense, searching… he didn’t sense anything, well, save a pack of lesser-willed creatures somewhere to the south.

  Malem pointed at the trail where Xaxia and Timlir stood with the horses. “Which way?”

  “Follow the path south,” Goldenthall said.

  And so they filed onto the path, and headed south. It proved little more than a trail of crushed pumice and obsidian, but at least it was relatively even, compared to the outlying rocks. Xaxia and Timlir continued to lead Vesuvius and Stridesfast on foot respectively.

  After a short while, Malem spotted the creatures he had detected with his beast sense earlier: a herd of those wildebeest-like entities. They grazed on the shoulder of the mountain ahead. He wondered if they were eating plants of some kind that he simply couldn’t see… he reached out and attempted to Break one of them and was pleased when the creature yielded instantly. They were very likely all just as weak-willed.

  He viewed the world through the eyes of one of them, and confirmed they weren’t wildebeests, but rather reptilian, reminding him of darker-skinned versions of iguanids, though with an extra pair of legs emerging from the ribcage region, for a total of six.

  The creatures weren’t grazing upon plants, but rather the rock itself. They were the ones that had likely created this trail of crushed stones along the shoulder of the mountain.

  He Broke more of them, enough to make mounts for the entire party. They used up two slots each in his mind, so the stamina drain wasn’t too severe. He had to ration that stamina carefully without Vorgon, mindful of the fact that any endurance he drained from the women would only weaken his companions.