She sheathed the sword but did not set its locks and knelt beside Poth. The cat had been stunned, but her fingers found no broken bones, and Poth complained of nothing more than bruises. The cat began to lick the witch's blood from her claws and set her fur to rights again. If she was that interested in grooming, she was fine.
A length of good rope lay against the far wall with several empty packs. It looked as though Harque had been planning a trip.
Kelaios went to the pit in which Eroar had fallen and knelt by the black depths. A cool warm wind blew from it. She tried mind contact and reached him. It was dark and hot. The creatures were growing bolder. *Is it hunger that drives them?*
*I believe so.*
*Watch yourself. I am going to send down one of the bodies, then I will send down a length of rope.*
Keleios selected a body near the pit and grabbed it under the grey-robed arms. She lifted from her knees up and felt the strain in her back. She had worked often enough without the magic bracers to know her own natural strength, and it was good, for a female half-elf. But a two-hundred-pound man is a two-hundred-pound man, and she was sweating by the time she rolled him into the darkness.
Keleios took out the smooth coil of rope and tied one end to the desk leg. She tested the knot and the leg itself. When satisfied, she lowered the rope. She prayed silently to Urle that the rope would reach.
*Eroar, are they consuming the body?*
*Yes, voraciously. It is an unpleasant preview, I'm afraid.*
*Can you reach the rope?*
*Not in this form. Please throw down another morsel while I stretch my reach.*
She dragged a slightly smaller guard by his robe and threw him in. A handful of seconds later and the rope became taut under her hands. The hands that scrambled to the top were huge and not the ones that had fallen in. She scrambled back from the huge bearded face that grinned at her as it pulled itself from the pit.
"Eroar?"
"Yes."
"That was unnerving."
"I had to be taller; this form is."
Poth came to peer into the hole and then backed away, hissing. "I quite agree with you, Mistress Poth, not a nice place."
"Are you hurt?"
"No, where are the others?"
"In the dungeons, we must hurry." She began pulling the rope up. "I thought you couldn't do magic down there."
"Shapeshifting is an innate ability, not a learned magic."
As the last of the rope landed on the floor, the pit began to close, the illusion becoming more solid as Keleios recoiled the rope.
Eroar shifted back to the more familiar human form and stretched. "I spend more time in this shape than my own; it's quite comfortable."
In her need to get to the others, she ordered the dragon, "Get the scrying crystal on the small table and the book on the floor. There are empty packs over there."
He stood very still, but did not move. She realized her mistake. Even in human form there was a pride, a grandeur, that no human ever quite touched. "Forgive me, Master Eroar, but time is short if we are to save the others. Will you please get the scrying crystal and the book while I coil this rope? We may need them all."
He stood there stubbornly, hands crossed over his chest. She coiled the rope mechanically and tried to keep her temper. "Master Eroar, if Tobin dies because you've delayed us, I will see you on the sands."
He almost laughed, but the look in her eyes stopped him. "You would die."
"That is a possibility," They stared one at the other. She could feel his magic reaching out to her. It was a powerful, skin-prickling thing, and he had not yet cast a spell. Everything dies, even dragons, and she did not flinch. It was he who broke contact, moving to do as she asked. He touched the book and gasped, "It pulses as if a heart beats inside."
"It pulses with evil and is much too dangerous to leave lying about. But respectfully, Master Eroar, I ask that whatever you do, don't try to read it."
He said nothing but wrapped the book in the table's white cloth and pushed it into an empty pack. The crystal he set upon the desk.
Keleios slid the rope in beside the book then put the crystal in beside them. She shouldered the pack, not bothering to ask the dragon if he wanted a share of its load. There was no more time for delays.
Keleios found herself holding the silver sword, blade bare and hungry. It was better to save magic if the sword would do. Eroar opened the door slowly, but the corridor was empty. Keleios took the lead. She thought Eroar would protest, but he remained silent and followed. Poth wandered ahead, cat-silent; few would bother to attack her.
Keleios remembered the corridors from Harque's study to the dungeons, for she had walked it almost daily for a month. They met one small vapor demon who was searching for the library. He had to find the library without aid of magic.
"We are on a quest also," Keleios said. "We search for two men: one tall and slender and very pale, part ice elf; the other, short with reddish hair and young."
"A tall thin man, I know not, but the boy is in the dungeon's heart and is being deviled by many demons."
Keleios sighed heavily. "And our task is to rescue him."
"You are on an entertainment then?" He nodded sympathetically.
She continued in a sad voice, "Yes, you are near the library. Simply follow this corridor then turn left at the second junction. The library will be the huge double doors with brass handles on the right side of the corridor."
"Oh, thank you. One of the demons is a black follow, very nasty looking, so take care."
It floated down the hallway, vibrating with anxiety.
As they continued on their way, Eroar asked, "Will he not report us?"
"No, we are both on a task. We entertain; he assumes that those in charge know what we are doing."
"How is this entertainment?"
"That was something I never understood."
"Why would a demon be a victim?"
"Big demons pick on lesser demons; it is the way of things."
"You learned a great deal in a short stay."
"Time is what you make it. These stairs lead into the dungeons. We should find Lothor down there, also, but in a cell. Only Tobin is free running."
Groghe appeared in the corridor just in front of them. Keleios had to fight the silver sword for his life. "Groghe, don't just appear like that. You'll get yourself killed."
"So sorry, Master, but I escaped, for they were not interested in me. They can always torment me later." He rumbled with the necklace. "I am still yours."
"Can you change to Harque and guide us?"
"No, the other demons are suspicious and will be looking for me."
"Then follow us invisibly and do not hinder us."
"No, Master." He blinked out. His claws scraped on the stone like mice in the night.
The stairs were wide but steep. Three large men could have walked abreast down them, but the height and pitch of the steps were not formed for human tread.
"Harque did not build this, surely," Eroar said.
"No, it was here waiting for her. Only the gods know who built it."
They came to a corridor that forked three ways. The tramp of many feet came from the left. A scream came from straight ahead; to the right was silence. "Fade back." Eroar simply became invisible for he lacked the elfish ability to blend with the surroundings.
A troop of grey-robed guards came from the left and passed into the silent right corridor. No one glanced toward the stairs; no one noticed a shadow that held other than darkness. They waited the space of five heartbeats after the last robe had vanished from sight. Eroar reappeared, and Keleios simply stepped out of concealment. Poth was nowhere to be seen.
"We go straight."
"Toward the scream."
She nodded.
The hallway stretched in a gentle torch-lined curve. It would be very hard to hide in the middle of that hallway. They went forward cautiously. She motioned for Eroar to take the left-hand side of cells, and she took the right. The first three cells were empty. The fourth held a man, curled into a small ball. She did not wait to see if he moved. Keleios tried to scan the cells without thinking about what lay inside. Just before they rounded the curve, she found Tobin's armor. It lay in a heap beside a pallet in a narrow cell. His sword was there, too. Wherever he was, he was naked and unarmed. A shriek came from up ahead, and faintly rumbling laughter.
She whispered to Eroar, "I believe Tobin will want these back." She continued, "If you can spell the door. I will scry Tobin's situation."
"I was unlocking doors before you were hatched."
She chose not to remind the dragon that hatching wasn't pertinent. She stood away so he could cast at the lock, and took out the crystal. The stone was smooth, cool, and flawless. She concentrated on Tobin's face. The vision came suddenly, startlingly clear. He was struggling in the grip of a very large demon, green-scaled and ivory-horned. The demon tossed him to another, who was slender and white with a spiked tail, and he threw him to the black pudding demon who caught with a tendril of ooze and covered the boy with it. Tobin struggled against it but disappeared inside the pudding. The other demons began to argue that it wasn't time to eat it yet and he better spit it out. He did reluctantly. Tobin crawled away from the pudding, retching and gasping for air. His gold-tinged skin glistened with slime. She cleared the crystal.
"The door is open. Should we . . . "
"We must hurry."
She left without waiting to see if he followed. Eroar scowled but gathered the armor, clothes, and sword in his arms and followed.
He caught up to her in a few strides.
"Three demons are with him: one of ice, the black slime that we saw earlier, and a green-scaled demon that I don't recognize."
The sword rose a short distance from its sheath. "I know. The demon we absorbed earlier knows."
"Tell me, then."
"It is a demon of plague. In battle, if it chooses, its touch brings the dreaded spreading sickness."
The invisible imp made a small keening sound. "Oh, Master, he is bad, very bad."
"Just stay out of the way, little one." Of all the demons to ensorcell, she had one of the weakest. Other than his shapeshifting and the limited sorcery of all demonkind, he could do little.
"That one must be taken out from a distance, then. We can hit the slime with cold, and the ice demon with fire, but the green . . . "
The sword rose a hand's breadth of silver from its sheath. "We can destroy it."
"Safely?"
She could almost feel the sword shrug. "As safe as we can be. I cannot guarantee your safety."
She gripped the sword's hilt, testing if it could truly do what it said. "Yes. If you have no objections, Master Eroar, you could throw a fireball at the ice, and distract the slime. I will fight the green. If the green demon dies I will help you with the slime."
"If the demon does not die?"
"It will have to die."
His look was eloquent.
"I know it isn't a wonderful plan, but I don't have time for anything better. If you, Master Dragonmage, have a better plan, I'll listen."
He made no answer, but motioned her forward, "Let's go get the boy."
They waited just inside the tunnel. Eroar put Tobin's belongings on the floor, taking care that the metal did not clink. The ice and slime were to the right and the green to the left. A rack was near them and Tobin crouched on the floor near the torture device. Poth the cat crouched under the device itself. Eroar nodded that he saw her and stepped out, sending a medium-sized fireball to the ice demon.
The green strode forward to help. The sword sang in her hands, eager. The demon was not much taller than Keleios. Smooth ivory horns added to its height. It tried to move past Keleios toward Eroar, as if her drawn sword were nothing. She had to step in front of the demon and bar its way before it looked at her.
"Be gone, little female."
"Stand and fight, damn you," she said.
The demon sighed. "Very well." It turned pupilless yellow eyes full upon her. "I will kill you first."
It swiped at her with ivory claws and Ache silvestri met the hand and sliced it. The demon's other hand came out of nowhere and slammed into the side of Keleios' head. She fell, dazed. She heard the demon bending over her. The sword screamed, "Get up!" Keleios tried, but hands gripped her wrists and jerked her upright before she could move. The sudden movement sent the room spinning. Something was crushing her wrist and she opened her hand with a small gasp. Ache silvestri clattered to the floor.
"Can you see me, little female?"
Keleios blinked into the yellow eyes of the demon. She was on her knees with wrists pinned between the demon's smooth-scaled hands. "Too late to call magic, too late to use your pretty sword." He bent close to her face and flicked out a crimson forked tongue. "Time to die." The skin of her hands began to itch where he touched them, then to burn. A green sore, like mold, appeared on her right hand. The demon released her, shoving her backward. Memories of the assassin's death flashed through Keleios' mind. Of his flesh melting away. She stared as the green mold grew over her fingers, burning, itching, but no pain, not yet. It flowed over her skin like water and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The palm of her left hand jerked, as if a muscle had spasmed. The sickness stopped spilling over her hand. It didn't go away, but it stopped spreading.
Eroar had his back to the wall. A barrier of fire kept the ice demon at bay, but the slime began to slide through the fire as if it were nothing. The plague demon just stood watching, arms crossed, back to Keleios.
A warmth, almost a fire heat started in her left palm over the demonmark. The heat rushed up her left arm and down her right until her right hand felt like it was on fire. The green spreading began to fade, as if the skin were absorbing it, the way a healer healed wounds. When the last bit of disease was gone, the burning began to fade and flow back into her left hand. Demon magic against demon magic, that was what Lothor had called it. But there was no time to marvel at her healed flesh. Eroar was pressed against the wall, backing away from the demons. They were not giving him enough time to call another spell, and what could he call? One feared fire, the other cold.
Keleios scooped Ache silvestri from the floor and rushed forward. The green demon heard her, and turned with a smile on its face. "Well, little female, are you not dead yet?" The blade took him through the ribs and up into the chest. The smile died on his face and he stood frozen while the blue glow ate over his body and up the hilt onto Keleios' hands. She didn't fight it this time; she welcomed it, drank in the power, let it wash over her and the sword. Ache silvestri cried, "We bring death to our enemies."
The demon's body sank to the floor with the sword still imbedded in its chest. Keleios turned to the other demons with wisps of blue fire still clinging to her hands. If she did not struggle against it, swallowing a demon's essence did not take very long.
Eroar was fighting both demons and being forced back. Keleios sent a burst of cold into the pudding, and it began to shamble toward her. She set her hands together, lightly touching at fingertips and base of hand, and thought of cold, the cold that numbs, that freezes the air in lungs until it burns. She drew pure cold in her mind -- not snow, not ice, only cold -- until the ache of it began to seep through her hands. The pudding was only feet before her when she opened her hands like a flower budding, until only the base of her hands touched, and cold came. It flowed like an icy wind to the demon. It slowed and stopped him. As the demon realized the danger, he tried to escape, but he was cold, so cold. He couldn't think, couldn't move. Still the cold came.
It was Eroar who broke the spell, shutting off the cold. "It is dead. Release your hold on the spell."
Keleios blinked at him, and broke the spell stiffly, and was surprised to find she had slipped to her knees. The slime stood like a column of dirty ice in front of her. "The ice demon is dead; let us rescue the others and begone."
She stood and began to flex her body. She had never been so stiff. There was a sound like a whimper or a quiet scream. Tobin crawled toward them. His body shook as if with ague. Keleios knelt beside him, smoothing back his hair, telling him, "You're safe now, Tobin."
He said nothing, but his eyes were haunted when they looked at her. He collapsed with a cry and clung to her for a moment, then pulled away and straightened. Keleios could feel him going through his control exercises. "I am a prince of Meltaan; I am a journeyman sorcerer, a visionary; I am Tobin." He stood straight and proud and said, "I know where Master Lothor is."
"Very good, lead us."
It was then that he seemed to notice his nakedness or perhaps he recovered enough of his self to worry about it.
Eroar fetched his armor, and while he dressed, they turned to other problems.
She walked without Eroar's aid, but it cost. "Urle's forge, but I'm shaky." She stood over the dead green demon. The tip of the silver sword pointed from its chest. Keleios bent to retrieve the sword but it struggled free itself and lifted to her hand.
It was free of blood once more, steam still rising from the blade where the blood had been heated away. She sheathed Aching Silver but left the lock off.
Tobin was fully dressed and belted his sword in place. Poth came out from under the rack, and a small skittering sound said Groghe had, too.
She asked Tobin, "Is Lothor in the far corridor?"
"Yes."
She motioned for him to lead, and they set off.
They approached the far corridor quietly; Tobin had assured them that there were more demons about. The far corridor was short, straight, and lined with cells. Keleios peered round the corner and froze as a succubus appeared and entered the open door of one cell. She ducked back around, leaning on the wall, "The succuba still play. What are we to do? They could be eating his soul."
The sword bobbed in its sheath. "If I may suggest, I hold a greater demon in me. The succuba would obey him."
"Yes, but you hold his soul, or essence, not him."
"But you are my wielder. If you desire it, you may have his knowledge, his power for a time."
"How?"
"You merely call him as if he were a spell."
"I don't understand."
"I have heard of such things," Eroar said. "Enchantments that eat souls can sometimes loan those souls to others for a time, and a price."
She stared at the Dragonmage. His dark face remained impassive; he might have been speaking of the weather, rather than using the souls of greater demons. "How safe is it?"
"It is like most spells -- the success or failure depends upon how strong willed the person calling the magic is."
Tobin said, "But she is taking in the . . . essence of a demon. Doesn't success also depend on how strong willed the demon is?"
"It does," Eroar said.
"Don't do it, Keleios," Tobin said.
"I have to do something. It is only a matter of time before something worse than succuba visit these cells, or they discover the bodies."
Eroar asked, "And what if this Alharzor gains control of you?"
A cold feeling started in the pit of her stomach. "Then you must kill me and do the best you can to rescue the black prince."
Tobin protested, "No, Keleios."
"Tobin, if the worst happens, do not hinder Master Eroar. If the sword takes me, I am lost and better dead."
He nodded his agreement but frowned.
She breathed deeply, drawing her control, and the tiredness retreated somewhat. "Come to me, slayer of demons."
The sword pulsed under her hand, beating power like blood through its frame. Alharzor's anger flared through her mind, burning. His magic roared through her like fire before a wind. Power ate along her skin, spilled out of her mind. For one moment she could feel Alharzor, the sword, and herself mingle, become one. Then the sword was not there, and it was just she and the demon.
Poth backed away, spitting, able to see the power as it beat through her and out of her. Alharzor was determined to win, to control. He fought for her body, and she fought to use his soul.
Keleios accepted the demon into herself, like two hands inside the same glove, but it was her mind that moved that hand. Her eyes opened wide, and her breathing slowed, deepened. He was safely contained inside her with the help of the sword. She drew power from the sword, letting it trickle bit by bit until all of it lay contained inside her. "Stay hidden, Groghe."
The invisible demon said, "Yes, Master."
Eroar looked at her, and she said, "Touch me and search quickly."
He came forward and laid a hand on her shoulder, and his eyes met hers. His magic passed like a wind over and through her. "You have done it, you have power now."
"I must bespell you both, so you will seem prisoners."
Though it was not what they wanted, neither fought her. Their eyes glazed, and their faces became blank. "Follow me," she said, and they did.
Keleios stepped into the corridor, hand on sword hilt, the men following behind her obediently. She had them wait at the head of the corridor; they obeyed perfectly. She paused at the door to the open cell. The half-elf lay under a mound of demons, their wings flexing like butterflies over a rain puddle.
Keleios drew part of Alharzor from the safety of control and let it flow through her. She sneered at the succuba. "Get off him."
They turned angry eyes and stared when they saw the body ordering them from the doorway.
One stood and began to walk toward Keleios. "And who are you to order us about?"
"Aaah, Filia, see with something other than your eyes for once."
A second joined her, and a third; all had paused. Lothor's flesh came into view. The shortest one said, "Alharzor, how did you get this body?"
"A gift from our lady witch."
"But I thought she had plans for this body."
"Is this the first time she's changed her mind?"
The demon chuckled. "No, I suppose not."
All but two of the succuba gathered round to poke and prod the new body. "Not bad, this should be able to keep up for a while."
A deep laugh came from Keleios's body. "Ooh, not at your speed, but perhaps at mine."
Lothor lay naked. Chains bound him at wrist and ankle. His body was one pure ivory color. Tiny scratches and bites marred the flawless skin. They were marks of passion rather than pain. An auburn-haired succubus curled across him. She stroked his hair and from time to time nuzzled him. His silver eyes were shut; his face turned away from her. Keleios wondered if his mind were intact.
She had been staring, and the demons noticed. A tall flame-haired one poked her arm. "Is she still in there?"
"Aaah, yes, I thought she might enjoy seeing her friends." A tittering of girlish laughter filled the room. A host of crude remarks followed.
"We could put him through his paces, or have her join us." This suggestion was met with great enthusiasm.
"Aah, girls, I am sorry, but Harque wants them all upstairs, now." A chorus of protests and whining began. "I even have to give the body back, after a time."
The auburn-haired demon left Lothor reluctantly, hands lingering on him. "We haven't broken him yet," she said. "The shame of it, Alharzor, we have to break through his control."
"I understand, girls, but there isn't time. The witch has some interesting plans for them all."
"What, oh, tell us."
"Aah, a geas."
"That doesn't sound very fun."
"It depends on where the geas forces them to go, my flame-haired beauty, and what it forces them to do."
They pouted. "It still doesn't sound fun."
"A geas to Pelrith's Isle."
They exchanged glances. One knelt beside Lothor's chained body and ran a hand down its pale length. "A shame that we won't get another chance at this one."
Keleios knew with Alharzor's memory that Pelrith's Isle was one place the succuba never visited. The demigod of the isle was too dangerous. A male being too dangerous for a succubus -- that was something to think upon.
Keleios knelt beside Lothor. Keleios ran her fingers down his cheek, and his eyes opened. His eyes stared at her, intelligence untouched. Hope showed in his eyes for a second, quickly gone. She stood. "Have him get dressed, and maybe clean him up first."
A tall red-haired succubus asked, "Is she distressed to see her friend so?"
"Aah, very."
"I'll bet they were lovers," another piped.
"No, Bettia, just friends." The succubus smirked. Keleios shrugged and stood at the door to the cell.
A succubus flew in with buckets of water and hovered. "Are you all right?"
Alharzor sneered. "She is embarrassed, embarrassed to see the ice elf nude."
The succubus laughed long and rich. "She wants him, then?"
"Aah, yes, she does."
"Make time to put them together, please."
He seemed to think on it a moment and grinned wickedly, then sighed. "There just isn't time." Keleios leaned against the cell door, and the succubus slapped her behind. The succubus sighed. "What a pity." The demon carried the water into Lothor's cell.
Keleios entered and hefted his ax. "I will carry this for you, half-elf. You won't be needing it." His deep laugh echoed with the high-pitched giggles of the succuba.
Smiling an unpleasant smile, Keleios left to stand in the hall.
Gales of laughter came as the succuba began to release and clean the prisoner. Keleios, with Alharzor's memories beating through her, stood in the hall. Her eyes strayed to a large cell at the very end of the hall. It had been her home for the months she stayed here. It had been roomy enough but dank and cheerless, a very cell of a cell.
Someone whispered her name, someone who stood at the bars of that cell. His golden hair and skin glowed even now through dirt and beard. The beard was a rich reddish-gold like flame. She stepped closer, and when she looked in the golden-brown eyes, she knew who it was.
The Meltaanian noble known as Gabel Self-lover, enchanter, sorcerer, and murderer of her smithy master, Edan. He had burned him to death in front of Keleios' eyes. She could still taste the horror and rage of that moment like bile burning her throat. And somehow that rage had translated into sorcery. Keleios had called her very first sorcerous spell -- fire. Fire that Edan had harnessed to shape metal, fire that burned under a pot to melt down herbs for spells, fire that glistened in the cottage to warm the food and keep the cold at bay, fire untamed and racing through the forest in a dry crackling run. Something opened in her mind that had been locked and sealed until then. Keleios saw the fire, true fire, flame. She drew it to her hand and pointed at the smirking sorcerer. She had come very near killing him.
No other Meltaanian noble had such a scar. It was a whitened burn scar that dimpled and pitted the right side of his race. One eye had almost been lost, and scar tissue formed a ridge twisting the eyelid wrong. Keleios had given him that scar. It could have been healed but the Duke of Cartlon ruled that Gabel would wear the scar as his punishment. Since only the physically perfect could rule in Meltaan, Gabel lost a kingdom. Keleios was stripped of her master rank because she had a new magic to tame. Sorcery at the age of twenty. It was unheard of.
"Gabel." It was a hiss.
He did not flinch at the hate in the word, for the feeling was quite mutual, but crowded close to the bars. "Keleios Incantare, take me with you when you go."
A great masculine laugh escaped her lips. "But Keleios is not going anywhere she wants to go."
He drew back, perplexed. "Alharzor?" But Gabel, whatever else he was, was an enchanter and a sorcerer, and good at each. He needed no spells to tell enchantment when he saw it. He spoke to her in a whisper. "Alharzor does not possess you; the sword possesses him. Take me with you when you go, or I will tell them of your deceit."
Knowing Gabel as she did, Keleios did not waste time being shocked or saying, "You wouldn't," because he would.
She glanced at Eroar and Tobin, who stood patiently waiting. She stood at the door and picked the demon's mind for the spell to the door. It was surprisingly simple. The lock crumbled in her hand like a flower.
Keleios whispered to Gabel, "If you betray us, or bring us harm in any way, I will kill you."
He nodded. "Anything to be away from here."
A tall succubus questioned, "Why do you free that one?"
"The witch has tired of him and wishes to make an example of him to the others."
She agreed that he had grown tiresome.
A girl peered at the bars of a cell to Keleios' left. She was blond and blue-eyed, looking more like the fisherfolk than an Astranthian. She was young, fifteen at the oldest. Once she had been journeyman to the witch Harque. She had been imprisoned for failing once too often. Keleios wanted to take the girl with them, but the succuba wouldn't believe her if all prisoners were suddenly released. The gods had blessed her trickery as it was. Keleios turned her back on the girl's watching eyes and entangled Gabel in the same spell that held Eroar and Tobin. "Go stand by the others."
He moved without a word.
The succubus laughed. "A wonderful spell to quiet that one. He even talks when he ruts."
As Lothor was brought out, she bespelled him, also. His silver eyes looked into hers for a moment before they went peacefully blank. There was a terrible rage in those eyes.
They followed her quietly in single file. A guard of succuba fluttered round them to gasp at the carnage in the torture area. Keleios/Alharzor explained, "Aaah, I do not know what began this carnage, but an ice demon unknown to me slew the green demon and Slucba, the earth demon. I surprised him, and he fought me. I was forced to kill him. It was regrettable."
"Yes, red demon, regrettable." The voice was low but defiantly female. A large succubus walked into the room. She wore a golden sword and belt across her hips and a dagger in a wrist sheath on her right arm. Two straight ivory horns rose out of her skull, and her hair was the color of a good ruby, pigeon blood red. "Explain to me what has happened here."
"Elvinna, when have I had to explain anything to you?"
Her full lips drew back in a snarl, exposing ivory teeth made for drawing blood. "Since when have you been able to kill other demons without asking the witch first?" Her eyes narrowed, pupilless and yellow. "And where is your necklace of obedience?" Her sword snicked from its sheath. "Imposter." She hissed.
Keleios broke the spell on the men, slid Lothor's ax toward him, and began forcing Alharzor back into the sword. Eroar blasted Elvinna with a bolt of power that surprised her, for most humanoid males could not attack her. But Eroar was not human, and Lothor had been trained to resist. Only Tobin stood helpless.
Lothor screamed at Eroar, "Don't let her call her guard." Lothor scooped the battle-ax from the floor and began to attack the succuba. Eroar didn't ask questions but shot spell after spell at the succubus. The guards were incubi and male heroes who had worshipped her in life and they were very dangerous. But Elvinna needed at least a few seconds to call them, and Eroar was not giving her the time.
Keleios didn't have the sorcery left for a block that would defeat a demigod, but she had a demon-slaying sword. The sword swallowed Alharzor back eagerly, freeing itself for more bloodletting. Keleios called to Eroar, "I'll distract her; you put up a mind block."
The demon goddess sneered at the silver sword and the delicate attacker. Their blades met with a metallic scream in a shower of blue and red sparks. Eroar's block went up, tingling through Keleios' mind as the golden blade sought her life. The weapons recognized each other, their sentience pulsing through the hands. When the blades touched, it was like a jolt of lightning.
Keleios stumbled in a patch of melted ice, and the demon sprang forward, slashing for her head. The silver sword sprang to block with a shock that numbed Keleios' sword arm to the shoulder. She was forced to draw farther upon the sword's enchantment to attack and regain her feet. The sword's death song rang in her ears, sweet music, and she felt the eagerness as her own.
Someone shouted as she sent the demon back with a flurry of attacks. Keleios did not understand the words, and then she concentrated, letting the sword fight for a moment.
"Keleios, get away from her."
It was Lothor. She reached into the sword, forcing it back, forcing her will upon it. It struggled, nearly costing her her sword arm. Keleios feinted and made a pass at the unprotected belly and rolled over the rack to hear the golden sword bite deeply into the wood. Sword up, ready for attack, she heard a sizzling and a hideous scream. She peered cautiously round the rack to see Lothor with his ax pointed straight out. A crackling jag of white lightning came from its end and pinned the demon goddess to the wall. She writhed, glowing with heat and light.
Lothor lowered the weapon, and the light stopped. The demon sank to the floor and began to fade, snarling, "I'll remember this, black healer, and you, half-elf," She was gone, sword and all.
Lothor said, "Let us go quickly; others will come. I don't know how long it will take for her to collect enough energy to attack again -- two days if we are lucky."
Tobin had been unable to attack the demons for he lacked a magic weapon. The magic of the demon goddess was too much for him, as it had been for Gabel. Tobin whispered, "So that was Elvinna. Now I know all my friends in Meltaan were lying; they never bedded that."
Keleios said, "Harque's death will slow pursuit. She was always so jealous of her power. The demons will be disorganized for a time. We must be off the island before they find a new leader."
No one argued with her. She led them out, knowing the lay of the keep, but insisted that if Gabel was to walk in back of her, that Lothor keep a weapon on him.
Tobin took offense at this. "Why did you ask the black healer and not me?"
"Because if Gabel moves to betray us, I want him killed. You, dear Tobin, would not kill someone just because I told you to. Lothor would."
There was the sound of copper bells, slightly off key, and the little green demon appeared. "I warned you first, Master, I warned first."
Keleios looked at the squat demon. "Yes, Groghe, you warned me first. Come along."
Keleios borrowed on Alharzor's knowledge and took corridors thick with dust. The torches they had taken from the dungeon area burned steadily in the stale air. They came to a branching of three tunnels. Down the center moved a single set of footprints. Keleios knelt testing, their width against her hand. "A human, soft shoes, a woman probably."
Eroar asked, "Harque?"
"Too fresh." She stood, dusting her hands off, "We need to go to the left."
Gabel asked, "But what if we meet the thing in the middle corridor later?"
"Then we do, Gabel, but we don't go chasing trouble."
They moved off into the darkness. At last a breath of wind stirred their torches, and Keleios motioned for them to extinguish the lights. She crouched at the tunnel mouth, looking out into a large cavern. The entrance of that cavern showed bright sunlight, so the hounds of Verm would not be a problem. Curled near that exit was a golden worm. Keleios had never seen such massive scales, each one as large as a knight's practice shield. The girth of the worm itself was too large for the eye to take in all at once.
Keleios whispered back, "How did you get past this thing?"
"Friendliness," came the answer.
"Well, get Eroar up here."
The dragon man worked past the rest to crouch beside Keleios. "Yes."
"How do we get past it?"
"By keeping our promise of treating its infected eye."
Keleios drew a sharp breath. "I've never seen a worm so large. Talk to it, Eroar, and I will help you treat it."
Eroar stood from the rest and walked into the cavern. He seemed to explode upward and outward, becoming dragon again. He was a mighty beast, a living mound of sapphire and ebony, but he was dwarfed beside the great golden worm.
The worm stirred and raised an eye to look at him. The rim of the black eye was swollen. Milky pus oozed from one corner. The thing's den was filthy and bare rock without a comfort to be seen.
Keleios felt anger that anyone could treat an intelligent animal in such a fashion. She nearly chuckled. With all that Harque had done, this was a small thing. It raised its massive fringed head to look with its good eye and nuzzled Eroar. They talked for a moment in common dragon. Eroar turned and motioned them forward with his blue-scaled tail.
Gabel hung back. Lothor pushed him, tumbling, down the slight slope to land at Eroar's feet. The dragon hissed at him. The deep voice said, "I may break my rule for you, Meltaanian."
He quavered, "What rule?"
Keleios answered, "Eroar makes it a rule never to eat humans." She stared at him, brown eyes distant. "Watch your step, Self-lover, or you will die one way or another."
After some coaxing, the worm lowered its massive head to Keleios. She spoke to the small green demon. "Groghe, fetch me some warm water and some clean cloths." He nodded vigorously and vanished.
Keleios noticed the frown on Gabel's face and asked, "What is the matter with you, Self-lover?"
He smiled crookedly, the left half of his face immobile. "We are risking our freedom to heal a worm."
"Our word was given."
He shrugged. "So?"
"Of course, you wouldn't understand what a person's word means."
"No, half-breed, I only understand self-preservation."
"Then get out. The cave entrance is right over there."
"No, I'll stay with you. You've always had phenomenal luck, even before you had Luckweaver." He stepped forward and said, "And where is your sword?"
Keleios said nothing.
"And no golden bracers. You are only a woman again. Perhaps I could show you what it's like to be under the scarred man. Only my face is ruined, everything else works perfectly."
Lothor placed a hand on the man's shoulder and said, "Enough."
"Let him go," Keleios said.
Lothor was reluctant but did as she asked.
Keleios drew Aching Silver from its sheath and approached the enchanter point first. "Do you know what this is?"
"A magic sword of Varellian workmanship."
"And what would it do to a man?"
"Are you my teacher now, Keleios?"
"Answer me -- what would it do if used on a man?"
"It would destroy his soul. It's a soul-eater."
"Very good."
The cool metal rested against his bare neck, and he could feel the eagerness flow up from it. He could almost hear the song it sang. Fear danced in his eye, and anger.
The sword sang to her of vengeance, and she let a smile cross her lips. "If you ever come near me again, I'll use this on you."
"What would your goddess, Cia, say about that?"
"We have an understanding when it comes to you."
A bead of sweat oozed down his face. "I'm flattered."
She sheathed the sword in one quick motion. "Don't be."
She turned her back on him then and went to the dragons.
Keleios investigated the swollen eye under Eroar's direction. Dragon claws were not made for such delicate work, and the worm needed the reassurance of the dragon form. In the corner where the milky pus dripped was the head and part of the broken shaft of a spear. "Eroar, ask her why she didn't ask for the spear to be removed."
"She did, but Harque laughed and said it would teach her a lesson for nearly failing."
"But how could she keep such a beastie as guard when it must hate her?"
"Spells. It has nowhere to go, for spells block its leaving the cavern."
"Well, Harque is dead. The spells will fade and the worm will be free to leave or stay in a few days."
"She is most grateful."
Keleios drew a salve from her nonmagic belt pouch. Breena had given it to her as a parting gift. It had been brewed by Breena and had many uses, one of which was to fight infections. Groghe returned with a steaming copper pot of water and towels draped over his head and arms. He set the pot down with a small splash. "Here it is, Master, just like you asked."
"Very good, Groghe, very good." Through Eroar she warned that it would hurt, and she gripped the broken spear. When it came, she was tumbled backward. The worm reared above her, screaming in pain. A flood of unclean fluids mixed with blood flowed from the wound. The others backed away from the frightened beast.
Eroar calmed the worm after a time, and it allowed Keleios to approach again, but it was wary. She dampened one of the cloths in the water and began to clean the wound. It hurt, but it also soothed. The beast let Keleios have her way without too much trouble. When the eye was as clean as it could be gotten, she applied some salve just to the wound. "Tell her not to scrape at it. The swelling will go down if she doesn't rub it raw against the walls."
Eroar relayed the message, and the worm agreed to follow instructions.
"I wish I had bandages for that eye." Keleios shook her head and smiled. "But it would take a storeroom of cloth to do it."
The men led the way into the sunshine. Eroar waved good-bye to the worm. Groghe hopped along beside Keleios. Poth stepped daintily, not having gotten close to the worm. The scrub trees fluttered pale green leaves in the wind. When they felt enough distance was between them and Harque's keep, they spoke quietly, still alert for pursuit.
"Harque has neglected her worm," Eroar said.
Lothor asked, "How?"
"It could have been blinded in that eye if we had not come along. The giant worms are not natural, but magically created, and are susceptible to many illnesses because of it. A little extra care, and the worm would have been fine."
They broke free of the trees and began to parallel the beach toward the boats. Harque had several boats docked around the island. Using Alharzor's updated knowledge, Keleios knew where a comfortable but manageable craft could be had. A dog stood on the rock-strewn sand. It was a hunting hound of medium size, white with brown spots. As they drew closer they could see that one of its ears was missing, not chewed off in a fight, but as if it had been born without it.
Two more hounds joined it, one all white, one black and white.
Keleios whispered, "Guard yourself. I don't like the looks of them."
They passed close to the hounds now. The black one was missing an eye, and the white had a twisted foot. They stared with malice glittering in their trusting brown eyes.
Tobin asked, "What are they?"
Lothor answered, "The day forms of the hounds of Verm. And their eyes are not fooled by magic."
Gabel said, "Monstrous things."
Keleios asked, "Have you been the prey in a daytime hunt?"
"I have experienced many wondrous things since we last met."
"Poor Gabel, I was hunted through these woods when I was seventeen."
"Brave little half-breed."
Lothor said, "Enough. The hounds' powers are limited in daylight, but if they warn the others, we may fail yet."
They broke into a trot without another word. A ring of hounds surrounded the beached boat. They snarled their displeasure, and a large yellow one threatened with raised fur and bared teeth.
Lothor strode forward. "Make way for your betters." He spoke a word that no one quite heard, guttural and hissing at the same time. The hound backed away snarling and the rest slunk to a safe distance.
Keleios said, "Quickly, let us push out over the water."
Lothor asked, "But where will we go in such a small boat?"
"The fisherfolk travel from island to island in boats such as this, Loltun. Hurry."
The sea lay calm and empty. Soft waves lapped at the shore. Keleios put hands on the boat. "Push."
Poth and the green imp leapt aboard. Tobin and Eroar, in human form again, leaned into the boat. Gabel stood and did not help. Keleios spoke through gritted teeth. "The hounds will lead others to us. Hurry."
She glanced at the idle enchanter and said, "Gabel, if you don't help, you swim."
He joined the rest in putting their shoulders and arms into pulling and pushing the grounded boat into the water. The yellow hound sent a howl floating into the light, and far off was an answering horn.
"Push, push for all you're worth." The boat gave all at once, shooting into the water, sending them floundering. Lothor fell, and the dark water swallowed him. The others climbed up the side. Keleios cursed softly as she drew the oars in the locks. "Can the black healer swim?"
"I don't think so," Tobin answered.
"Urle's forge, why didn't he ride, then?" Just before she could dive in after him, a gauntlet-covered hand grasped the boat's side followed by the Loltun prince's face. Tobin helped him up, and Keleios had to caution, "Have a care or you'll dump us all in the drink."
Lothor lay in the bottom of the boat, gasping like a landed fish.
Keleios began to row. She had Tobin grab the other set of oars and they began to move out to sea. The horn sounded again.
Gabel seemed near tears. "Why don't they simply teleport in?"
"The hounds' minds can't give a clear enough picture, and not even a demon can teleport without some idea of where and what."
Keleios whispered a prayer under her breath. "Ellil, goddess of the eternal sea, daughter of lies and humanity, you know me. I have fished and swam and trusted my body to you many times. Great Ellil, give us a wind to sail to safety." Her shoulders and arms strained at the oars. "Row, row like you've never rowed before."
Lothor sat up carefully. "I will row."
"No." It came out sharp, and his face clouded with anger. "Tobin knows how to use oars; you do not. There is no time."
If the wind did not help, neither did it harm them. Ellil was as capable of destroying their sail as filling it. She was the sea and not altogether trustworthy.
They rowed. Tobin did not turn to look back; but Keleios saw.
On the shore a group of beings could be seen, scales sparkling like jewels in the sunlight. Green, red, blue, and white the demons shone in the light. One raised a brass horn to its lips and blew a single note. The sound was clear, beautiful, and fearful.
A seeking wind blew, smelling of death and rot. The plague storm rose from the island and began to creep toward them. They rowed but could not outdistance it. The sword half-rose from its sheath. "Master, Alharzor can teleport; he is still fresh."
"No," Keleios said, "I'm too tired."
"But Alharzor is not tired."
She shook her head.
"I can teleport, Keleios," Eroar said.
She glanced at the dragon. "How many?"
"I am also tired. Three, plus myself."
Keleios sighed, "I've done one teleport today, I can't do another, but with Alharzor's power I can carry myself, Poth, and the demon."
Gabel asked, "But where to? What's within range?"
"Shut up, Gabel. Let me give Eroar the picture."
To teleport without ending part of a freshly moved chair you had know your coordinates. Keleios taew of only one thing that would be exactly the same. She envisioned piece by piece the drop of the unicorn's head as it bent to eat from low-growing dragon's blood, the stallion standing on a grey rock watching for intruders, a short bush with a rabbit hiding underneath it. She had used it as a practice point before. She asked Eroar, "Do you have it?"
"Yes."
She let the boat drift and drew demon magic inside once again, but she was achingly tired. Keleios felt as though she were swimming against a strong current, but this water was fire and burned down her skin. Alharzor was there, angry, powerful, and not tired in the least. Eroar left with the three men. Groghe leapt upon her back, and she held Poth in her arms. The cat spat at the imp, and he hissed at her.
Alharzor fought her, trying to control, to take them where he wanted to go. The death cloud crept closer, the air reeking with its smell. Keleios struggled against the demon and breathed through her mouth, fighting nausea. Poth gave a squall. Keleios said, "If you keep fighting me, we will both die."
"I am already dead," Alharzor hissed. "You killed me."
Keleios couldn't argue with him, but she had to stop him. Alharzor was a red demon; that meant fire. She thought of cold -- ice to put out the fire, cold to drive back his anger. Alharzor retreated before the wave of winter magic, screaming. She held him in a prison of frost. The sword's metal froze in her hand, but the core of fire that was Alharzor pulsed through it. She had him. Keleios reached outward with his power. The cloud hovered over the boat, and Keleios glanced up once. Concentration slipped. Bits of something once alive floated in the cloud; the cloud flowed over the boat.
