Death's Reach, page 8
part #2 of Hungry Gods Series
Taegar made a mental note to revisit the book store as Vichak led them on. He took them to a tower of bright blue stone. If the walls weren’t so thick, he would’ve sworn he could see completely through it.
Serina touched the tower and asked, “Blue topaz?”
Vichak nodded. “Very good. You know your gemstones.”
“This building alone is priceless,” Taegar said.
“And it is where I leave you,” he said, “You all have the fifth floor to yourselves. When we find the last two of your friends, we’ll bring them to you. We provide a refugee allowance for buying food and supplies, if you choose to stay, for a few weeks. You will, of course, have to find jobs, which should not be too hard. We lost a significant amount of laborers when the East District fell.” To Serina he added, “I’m afraid your nobility won’t benefit you as much as it did in the past.”
“I stopped using it long ago,” she said.
CHAPTER 13
Taegar stepped out on his gemstone balcony and stared out across the city. On the outside, it appeared peaceful, a utopic island where he could momentarily forget the horrors he’d seen over the last few weeks. He could block out the loss of those who had counted on him.
He idly ran his hand over the smooth railing. Beneath his fingertips, electricity pulsed within the stone, drawn to the surface by his touch. He couldn’t feel it, even as a static discharge. When he slid his hand along it, the bolts chased his fingers.
It felt good to be safe. He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep for as long as he could remember, and he hoped tonight would be different. He worried that he had seen too much, that it would stay with him forever.
He didn’t care if staying meant he would be a servant or a shit shoveler. He just didn’t want to be afraid anymore.
Yes, the city gave a sense of security he thought he’d never find again. He wouldn’t admit it to the others, but he knew that he’d lost hope. He’d presented a strong front, if only for the benefit of the others. In the forest, he knew they were as good as dead. He didn’t know what sorcery the wizards had detected that had led them to him, but he was thankful for it.
A rogue breeze carried a rank scent above the city, reminding him that their safety was tenuous at best. He smelled carnage, the smell of decay and burning flesh. It lasted only the blink of an eye and disappeared. An army of the dead encircled the city. Even within, an entire district had fallen.
He didn’t want to dwell on it. These were no longer his problems. He could make this work. He could make the best of any situation. Why didn’t he want to close his eyes?
A knock at his door pulled him away from his thoughts. Lara? No, she had not emerged from her room since arriving, hours ago. He wanted to check on her, but something inside told him it was best to give her a little time. She slept in the room next door. He wished he could see through it, watch over her while she slept, like he’d done ever since leaving the Watcher.
He opened the door, not knowing who he expected to see. He didn’t expect Serina.
“Hey,” he said, “Did they find them?”
Serina shook her head. “No, not that I’ve heard. May I come in?”
“Of course.”
He stepped to the side and allowed her entry. She had bathed – as had he – and it had transformed her into a completely different woman. Somehow it surprised him that they could even recognize each other, after the weeks in the foothills. He’d thought the dirt would never come off.
She raised a bottle of red wine. “Levia’s finest. Thirsty?”
“Oh yes.”
He grabbed two mugs from the cabinet as she pulled the cork with a dagger. He turned to offer her one, but she threw her head back and took a long swig directly from the bottle. As Serina came up for air she saw the mugs and laughed. “Oops.”
“He shrugged and forced a chuckle. “Oh well. It always tastes better out of the bottle.”
She passed it to him and he took a quick swig, not nearly as much as she had. It tasted sweet. “That’s good,” he said with a sigh, “It feels like years since I’ve had a real drink. If I’m not mistaken, this is from Renhold?”
“Yes, I’m feeling a little nostalgic. I’ve been thinking of home.”
“That’s something I try not to think about.”
Serina took the bottle from him and took another swallow. He knew a few women that could drink like her, but not many. She left him with barely an inch in the bottom.
“I’ve never seen a Lady drink like that.”
Serina took a step forward until they were a few inches apart. She stood taller than most women, nearly six foot. She could almost look him in the eye. She bit her lip as she wrapped her arms about his neck, bringing her lips close to his. “I’ve never been too good at being a Lady.”
She pressed her lips to his. She tasted as sweet as the wine. With one arm in the small of her back, his other hand went to the back of her head, pushing her mouth harder against his. His tongue slid between her lips, exploring her mouth hungrily as she moaned in response. Her body pressed hard against his, hands pulling his shirt free from his breeches.
Lara. He pushed the thought of her away quickly. She was unattainable. Serina was real, and here now. The taste of her dulled his wits better than any wine.
They broke apart for only a second as their shirts came off, their hands going to one another’s chests, exploring and groping. He hadn’t been with a woman in so long, he rushed, nearly tearing her undershirt off. She staggered awkwardly backward, half pulling him along, half being shoved, toward his bed. Her legs hit the edge, and she tumbled backward with a laugh as he fell on top of her.
“You going to treat me like a Lady?” Serina asked. Her voice was slurred with wine and lust, her words almost sounded like the purr of a cat.
“Milady.” He kissed down her neck to the pale flesh of her breasts, kissing and sucking tenderly on her skin, nipping at her gently with his teeth. His tongue followed one of many scars across her torso, where a blade or claw had torn away her right nipple.
The scars decorated her like tattoos. She had received more injuries than he could imagine, been in more battles than he ever hoped to see. Her abdomen had puckered scars in the pattern of a large predator’s bite, and his hand beneath her confirmed matching scars from the creature’s lower jaw.
They did not detract from her beauty. They added to it, a collection of her history forever recorded in her flesh. This “Lady” had seen more action than most soldiers. He couldn’t fathom what would drive her to seek out such risks.
He ripped her belt off and cast it aside. She arched her butt from the bed, aiding him as he slid off her breeches. Though she dressed like a man, she was as beautiful as a goddess underneath. He kissed her gently in the soft tuft of hair between her legs, briefly tasting her wet desire for him. She raised her hips, pressing herself hard against his lips and chin. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him still as her body shook in response to his tongue.
She sat up, bringing him up too and pulled him close, wrapping her bare legs about his waist, digging her nails into his ribs, and bit down teasingly on his nipple. He gasped in a mixture of pleasure and pain, and tried to concentrate on somehow removing his own breeches in their tangle of limbs.
Serina threw herself back onto the sheets and pulled him down on top of her again. She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, and slid her tongue into his mouth. He somehow managed to kick his clothing the rest of the way off with her rushing him along.
His desire raged like an inferno as he took her. They tumbled across the bed, hips thrusting, hands groping and fingernails scratching. For that moment, for the first time in weeks, his troubles slipped away. There was only Serina, her body, the pleasure in their unity. It cleansed the horrors from his mind, his inability to save everyone.
It almost chased away his thoughts of Lara.
“Serina… I…”
She cut off any further words with another kiss.
Their love-making became more intense, faster and urgent. She broke away from his kiss to throw her head back. She screamed her pleasure as her nails raked down his back. He buried his face deep in her hair and against her neck, smelling her essence, letting himself be swept away. With hands behind her, he crushed her hard against him as his own pleasure reached its high. He clung to that moment, willing it to linger forever. In that frozen instance of time, he pushed the world away, everything. He could let himself love her. They could have this forever. Together they could drive away the nightmares, believe in short bursts of passion that they were somewhere else.
Afterward, Serina fell asleep nestled against his chest. The façade of the strong indomitable woman had slipped away leaving behind someone soft and vulnerable. Yes, he could love her. Maybe he already did. He kissed her petite nose and she sighed in her sleep.
“I love you,” he whispered, trying the words out. He wanted to mean them, maybe even bring himself to believe it. He’d never been frivolous with sex, and maybe he let himself too easily fall in love. He’d only taken a few lovers over the years, and the fates had seen fit to keep all of them apart from him.
“I love you too,” she said softly. He studied her face for any signs of consciousness and found none. She spoke the words in her sleep. He smiled. This one could be different.
A tear trickled down her cheek until it met his chest. She continued talking in her sleep. “I miss you Ilandar. Why did you leave me?”
And just like that his dream died.
CHAPTER 14
The day after their arrival, Lara walked through the streets of Levia looking for a wizard. It shouldn’t have been so difficult, after all the city did have a reputation for them. However, being a wizard in this city meant having responsibilities, and even their apprentices rushed about as though an army of death were at their gates.
Contrary to what she’d believed growing up, not everyone in the city practiced magic. People went about their business here as they did in every other town. Merchants hocked their wares, craftsmen crafted, and children played in the streets. Aside from the few wizards she tried to speak to, life went on.
The feeling of being surrounded by normality brought a comfort to her she hadn’t felt since her life in Briar’s End, which though not that long ago, felt like another lifetime. She had risen early, choosing not to disturb her companions, and entered the city just as dawn arrived. The gray sky still threatened snow, though she saw only a few flakes before it gave up. She wondered if the wizards controlled the weather.
She didn’t mind being with her companions. She supposed she should be calling them friends, for they were the only people left that she felt any kinship with. The five of them, for she refused to think of Mykel and Lysa as dead, had spent much time together, and had depended on each other for their survival for so long she felt exposed and vulnerable without them by her side.
She knew of Taegar’s feelings for her, though she couldn’t return them, not yet. She needed to know of Dorian’s fate. Did he still live? If so, she would hold out for a way to rescue him, no matter what it took, or what stood in her way. She was in a city where men and women did the impossible, and much had changed over the countless years since the gods had abandoned them.
After trying and failing to stop several wizards, a heavyset merchant with sideburns to his chin took pity on her and pointed her in the direction of the Great Library.
“There’s always someone studying there,” he’d said.
The building she sought was as grand as every other structure in the city – a purple gemstone tower rising high above the streets. Everything here threatened to overwhelm her senses as if she were some small town farm girl. One of the first things she saw when she’d left their residence was a flying chariot pulled by winged horses.
Inside was just as spectacular, with shelves of books filling any space not required for walking. The walls were lined floor to ceiling with more tomes than could ever be written in several lifetimes. To even imagine reading them all would take an eternity. There were a few tables and chairs squeezed in, and most had a patron.
Lara tried to catch someone’s gaze, anyone, if they even remotely looked like a wizard. The problem was, she couldn’t tell. The wizards she’d seen the day before, those that had accompanied her, wore strange clothing. Many of these people dressed fairly normal for a city of magic. They could’ve been historians or scholars.
She wandered back and forth among the shelves for a while, working up the courage to disturb someone. At the back of the library, a staircase led both up and down. She briefly considered visiting another floor when someone behind her cleared her throat.
She turned around to see a woman in a tight-fitting red dress watching her, with an armful of books clutched tightly to her ample chest. The woman possessed incredible beauty, with hair nearly as red as her dress, and eyes to match. Though human in appearance, from the top of her head grew goat horns, and on her back were folded massive black bat wings. The strange appearance did nothing to diminish her attractiveness. Lara had no idea what race the woman was, only that she was anything but human.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked. She spoke softly, almost meekly, with a reverence befitting their location.
“Umm…” Lara stammered, “I… I need to find someone. I need a wizard.”
“People generally look for books here. Most wizards have been quite busy as of late, working on the zombie epidemic. Perhaps I can help you?”
“What are you?” Lara blurted out, then blushed. “I am so sorry. I don’t mean to be rude. It’s just…”
The woman raised her hand and smiled, immediately setting Lara at ease. The woman’s very presence affected her mood. “I am a daemon,” she said, “Or more precisely, a succubus. I am sorry that it makes you uncomfortable, I cannot help it. The wizards don’t let me help much, I’m a bit of a distraction. I do find that I can blend in easier in here than on the streets.”
A daemon! “They just let you walk around?”
“Why shouldn’t they? You think I go around eating babies and stealing souls?”
Lara felt herself blushing. “I didn’t… I mean I… Don’t you?”
“Not all the time,” the daemon said, “It’s okay, the reaction is quite common, I’m afraid. And there aren’t many of us around anymore. However, I am well-versed in most sorcery. I won’t even require you to trade your soul in return.”
“Umm… thanks?”
“Follow me. There are more appropriate places where I can help you.”
The succubus led her down three flights of stairs. The two floors immediately underground were just as crowded as the first floor, but the room she took her to was mostly empty, with a pedestal and a table covered with a number of vials and bowls. The soft light of wisp orbs lit the room.
“Every tower has rooms like this one, she explained. There are some up higher, but I like the privacy of the lower ones. Few come down here.”
“Thank you.” She extended her hand. “My name is Lara by the way. I appreciate your help. I am really sorry about my reaction.”
“I don’t mind,” the succubus replied. She took Lara’s hand and gave her a gentle squeeze. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer you my name in return. It’s a cultural thing. Now who do you need to find?”
“A friend of mine is lost. Or rather I know where he is. I want to find a way to save him.”
“What’s his name, and where do you think he is?”
“Dorian i’ Galat. I left him within the Watcher. He was in a prison.”
“Do you have anything of his?”
Lara shook her head. He had given her things during the short time he’d courted her, but those items were miles away in her room. She hadn’t considered taking them at the time.
“Was he family or a lover?”
Lara blushed. That reaction came easily around the woman.
“Ahh, a lover. Then you do have something of his. You have his heart. Not literally, of course, but it gives us a spiritual connection. Family is much the same.”
The daemon grabbed a bowl from the table along with a pitcher of water. She sat the bowl in the middle of the room and poured the entire pitcher of water into it, filling it nearly to the rim. From her belt she pulled out a small knife. She gestured for Lara’s hand. “This,” she explained, “Will allow us to communicate with him, regardless of distance. And my magic requires blood.”
Lara suddenly felt foolish. She’d allowed herself to be led into a solitary chamber by a daemon that wanted her blood. If she were murdered, no one would ever find her. She hesitated for only a second before extending her hand. If the risk meant that she had a chance to locate Dorian, even if only to speak to him, she would take it.
And then she would find a way to save him.
The daemon swiped the blade across Lara’s palm. It stung horribly. Somehow she resisted pulling away. A crimson gash appeared as blood flowed out. She turned Lara’s palm over the bowl, letting the blood drip and splash into the water.
The blood swirled, mixing with the water as though stirred by an invisible hand. The daemon released her, letting her place a clean handkerchief to her palm to staunch the bleeding. She tried to ignore the pain left from the blade and focus on the magic.
The other woman leaned over the bowl, chanting softly. With each spoken word her eyes began to glow a fiery red, as though flames blazed within her. Within the strange tongue, Lara could only make out Dorian’s name. She realized the daemon called to him.
She studied the bowl intently. She half expected to see him in the water, though it didn’t change. Instead, their surroundings began to transform. The light of the wisp orbs dimmed as the air swirled about them, the walls disappearing as though they had crumbled to dust. The daemon’s chanting grew louder as she directed the sorcery, echoing through the nearly transparent room.
