by Clayton Wood
Five minutes later, as he was following a narrow dirt path up a small hill, Zac turned back to look at his parents’ small house, nestled within huge fields of recently harvested crops.
It was on fire.
* * *
Zac gasped, jerking out of his dream.
He found himself laying on his belly in the dirt, surrounded by half-eaten bushes and tall trees. It took him a moment to realize that he’d been dreaming. He got on all fours, then tried to stand up.
And promptly toppled over, landing on his side on the forest floor with a thump.
He grunted, trying to sit up, but his body wouldn’t move the way he wanted. His center of balance was all wrong. He looked down at himself…
…and gasped.
For he was utterly naked. Not only that, his skin was black, and covered in places with something that looked like thin bark. His knees were bent the wrong way, like an animal’s, and his hands…
His eyes widened.
They were like paws, but with long fingers that terminated in sharp black claws.
Then he remembered the awful truth. Remembered the first time he’d seen the Dark One in the woods. Remembered sniffing his blood, then licking it. The hunger, the voices. Remembered following the Dark One, and finding others that did the same.
I’m not Zac.
The horrible realization twisted his guts, making him feel nauseous. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out.
I’m not Zac, he repeated.
These were the Dark One’s memories, not his. He was inferior. An animal. A copy.
He made me better.
The creature stood on all fours, sniffing the air around it. Its sense of smell was even duller than it’d been yesterday. But its mind was sharper, faster. It knew words now, even though it could not yet talk.
The Dark One will help me, it knew. I’m an animal now, but He will make me better.
The creature caught the scent of another like him, and started forward through the forest to follow it. His belly ached with hunger, that ever-present need that he struggled to fulfill. Onward he went, pulling off the leaves of the bushes around him, eating as he made his way through the forest.
Toward the Dark One. Toward the boy who’d been called Zac, and renamed himself Zagamar.
He will make me better, the creature repeated. Better than the animal he still was, and better even than the humans who’d rejected the Dark One. The humans that would inevitably turn against him, to try to stop him. To kill him for the crime of being different.
Zagamar would make everyone better.
Chapter 12
Dominus sat across from the Lady Camilla, at the other end of a long wooden table. He leaned back in his chair, noting how uncomfortable it was. A detail the Lady had certainly seen to, as well as the excessive length of the table. One to make him uncomfortable, the other to accentuate the distance between them.
He supposed he should be thankful she hadn’t forced him to sit there naked.
“You’re looking better,” she observed. Dominus supposed he did after his bath, fresh clothes, and a substantial meal. “Aren’t you filling out nicely.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he replied, shifting his weight in his uncomfortable chair. She waved his thanks away with one hand.
“Think nothing of it,” she insisted. “We may not always get along, but we are contemporaries. Or rather, we were.”
Dominus suppressed a grimace, absorbing yet another jab at his fall in station.
“You of all people must understand that titles are less important than a man’s qualities,” he chided.
“Or a woman’s,” Camilla agreed, giving a little smile. “You wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t valuable to you,” she added. “Tell me…what good are you to me?”
“I have information,” he answered.
“Information,” she countered, “…is my area of expertise.”
“You don’t have a monopoly on the truth,” Dominus retorted. “I have information you might find…extremely compelling.”
“Do tell.”
Dominus smirked.
“And what do I get in return?” he inquired.
“You’re fed,” she replied. “And clothed. And I haven’t done Tykus the favor of telling them their favorite corrupt former duke is still alive and well.”
“I’m far too valuable for you to waste me like that,” Dominus countered. She arched an eyebrow. “I was Duke of Wexford for longer than you’ve been alive,” he pointed out. “I know more about the inner workings of the kingdom than any man, other than Tykus himself. And my ability to heal is only one of countless traits I’ve absorbed over a lifetime.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded. She knew as well as he did that the Dukes of Wexford went back six thousand years. In that time, they’d accumulated countless priceless Ossae, including those of the greatest warriors, tacticians, and intellectuals who’d ever lived. All of them concentrated into the person sitting before her. “Give me your offer.”
“Is Zeno still alive?” Dominus asked. Camilla frowned.
“That’s not an offer.”
“Is he?” he pressed. She shrugged.
“Perhaps. Your offer is…?”
“My offer is immortality,” he declared.
She stared at him for a long moment, then leaned forward, her cleavage practically spilling from her corset. She gave him a little smile, resting a pale elbow on the table and cupping her chin in her hand.
“You’ve got my attention.”
“I am immortal,” Dominus stated. “I will never age. I can heal from any wound,” he added. Not exactly the truth, he knew, but there was no point in informing Camilla of his weaknesses. “If you help me, I will provide the same abilities to you.”
“You’re referring to this special Ironclad head you acquired?” she asked. Dominus nodded. Of course she would have found out about it. “And what am I to provide in return?”
“Zeno.”
Camilla leaned back in her chair, considering this.
“Why?” she pressed.
“He is a threat to the kingdom,” Dominus answered. “And he conspired to assassinate the dukes and King Tykus himself.”
Camilla laughed, the melodic sound echoing through the large room.
“Oh Dominus, ever the patriot,” she mused. “Your kingdom rejects you and sentences you to death, yet still you protect them?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Very well,” she decided. “Zeno’s head for the Ironclad’s. A fair exchange.”
“I keep the Ironclad’s head,” Dominus countered. “After we use it to grant you immortality, I will destroy it.”
“Destroy it?”
“It’s too dangerous,” Dominus reasoned. “In the wrong hands, its power would be devastating. Or would you like your enemies to have immortal armies?”
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “I agree to your terms. There’s only one…complication.”
“And that is?”
“I know exactly where High Seeker Zeno is,” she revealed. “But we may find it rather difficult to reach him. It seems he’s gone into the Crypt of Zagamar.”
Dominus stared at her mutely. At length, he cleared his throat.
“I see,” was all he could manage.
“My men constantly surveil the Crypt, of course,” she continued. “My scouts saw him trying to enter the other day. A few tried to stop him, but of course Zeno killed them. He hasn’t come out since.” She sighed. “He’s probably dead.”
“Perhaps not,” Dominus retorted. Zeno had the Ironclad head…a fact that Lady Camilla didn’t need to know. If he told her, she could go after Zeno herself and acquire the head without him.
“Are you suggesting I send my men in the Crypt after him?” the Lady inquired, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Of course not.”
“If Zeno didn’t survive the Crypt, then you already have what you want,” t
he Lady pointed out.
“If,” Dominus agreed.
“You’re saying you actually believe he might still be alive?” she inquired incredulously. Dominus gave her a grim smile.
“I’m saying its likely.”
“Then you know nothing about Zagamar,” she retorted. Dominus smirked.
“I know enough.”
“There’s something you’re not telling me,” she accused. She stood then, walking toward him, towing her chair behind her. Then she sat down a few feet from him. Dominus understood the importance of the move; the distance between them was smaller now. She was ready to work together.
He paused, considering his options.
“Tell me,” Camilla urged, leaning forward and putting a hand on his thigh. This gave an unfettered view of her spectacular cleavage. That, plus the warmth from her hand, was surprisingly effective in achieving its intended goal.
Dominus resisted the urge to squirm, surprised at his body’s reaction. He hadn’t been able to…rise to the occasion in over a decade. A consequence of the terrible disease that had slowly choked his blood vessels, causing his legs to rot.
“Zeno has the head,” he said at last.
Camilla frowned, leaning back in her chair, her hand slipping from his thigh.
“I see,” she murmured. “That does complicate things.”
“If Zeno is dead, the head is still within the Crypt,” Dominus reasoned. “We can’t allow anyone else to get it.”
“If it’s in the Crypt of Zagamar, no one else will be able to get it.”
“My offer stands whether Zeno is alive or dead,” Dominus told her. “The Ironclad head still represents the greatest threat to the kingdom, and to us. We have to retrieve it.”
“What’s your plan?”
“My will is strong,” Dominus replied. It was a fact, not a boast. “I will go to the Crypt and retrieve it.”
“Daring,” Camilla murmured, clearly surprised…and impressed. “You’ll probably die.”
“Will I?”
“Ah yes, your immortality,” she replied. “If Zeno has the head, then he may be as immortal as you are.”
“I possessed it for weeks,” Dominus countered. “Zeno has had it for days at most.”
“When Hunter when into the Crypt, he found his sword useful in getting through the trials there,” Camilla revealed. “It was Vi’s originally. Consider it my gift to you.”
“The Original went into the Crypt?” Dominus stated incredulously.
“It must have slipped my mind to tell you.”
“Right,” he grumbled.
“The boy also told me everything he encountered there,” Camilla admitted. “I’ll debrief you. Perhaps knowing the Crypt’s dangers will help.”
“I appreciate it.”
Camilla stared at him for a long moment, a slight smile curling the corner of her lips.
“How can I trust you to honor your part of the deal?” she inquired.
“You have my word.”
“How comforting.”
“Feel free to send your men with me,” Dominus offered. “If I attempt to double-cross you, have them kill me.”
“I could do that anyway, and have the head for myself,” she pointed out. “Assuming they could kill you, which I highly doubt.”
“I could kill you now, take the sword, and get the head,” Dominus countered. “But I won’t.”
Camilla arched an eyebrow, propping one elbow on the table and giving him a mysterious smile.
“And why won’t you?” she inquired.
“Because I understand the value of relationships,” Dominus answered. “And if we work together, we’ll be far more powerful than if we don’t.”
“Mmm.”
She stood then, gesturing for him to do the same. He did so, and she stepped up to him – far too close for his comfort – leaning in until her lips brushed up against his ear. He smelled her perfume, faint yet tantalizing, and again he felt his body respond. A strange and powerful sensation after years of absence. Promising something he hadn’t felt in…
“You have yourself a deal,” she murmured, her breath hot in his ear. She stepped back then, smiling at him in that maddening way of hers. “To relationships,” she added, holding out the back of her hand.
Dominus held her hand, leaning down to kiss it.
“To relationships,” he replied.
Chapter 13
The sun was just beginning to set beyond the tall black stone walls of the Kingdom of the Deep, a cool breeze caressing the land. Sukri stumbled on the wide grassy path leading away from the large treehouse she and Kayla had just come down from, a sprawling, multi-level tavern. They’d left the Shrine and gone to the tavern for a few drinks…all part of Kayla’s promise to get Sukri drunk before returning to the Shrine. Sukri felt Kayla’s soft, furry arm around her waist, and turned to look at the cat-woman. She was absolutely beautiful, her exotic golden eyes slanting slightly upward, her short gray fur thick and luxurious. Her gaze fell to the woman’s lithe body, which had curves in all the right places.
“You,” she said, slurring the word slightly, “…have an amazing ass.”
“Thank you,” Kayla replied.
“Can I…?” Sukri inquired. Kayla’s lips curled into a smile, and she nodded. Sukri slid her hand down the small of the woman’s back, resting her hand on the prominent bulge of her left buttock. “Damn,” she murmured. “You’re all muscle!”
“Takes a big butt to jump as high as I do,” Kayla explained.
“How high can you jump?” Sukri inquired. Again she slurred her words a little. Not for nothing, but the drinks they made in that tavern had been amazing. And strong, even for Sukri.
“Over three times my height,” Kayla answered. “Maybe four.”
“Wow,” Sukri murmured. She kept her hand on Kayla’s butt, enjoying the feel of it as they walked. She ran her fingertips up and down it’s gentle curve, feeling the short, soft fur there. Heat radiated from Kayla, she found; the woman had to be a few degrees hotter than Sukri. “You feel really warm,” she said.
“We have a higher body temperature than humans.”
“Yeah,” Sukri replied with a grin. “You’re hot as hell.”
Kayla only smiled, and they continued their walk through the kingdom. Eventually Sukri recognized that they were close to the main entrance.
“Where we going?” she asked. “Thought we were going back to the Shrine.”
“We will,” Kayla reassured. She led Sukri toward a small hut ahead, what they apparently called a wigwam. Kayla brought Sukri to the entrance, gesturing for her to enter. She did so, finding a surprisingly spacious interior with animal skins lying on the floor to one side. Kayla sat down on them in one graceful movement, patting the spot to her left. Sukri sat beside her, close enough that their shoulders pressed together.
“This your place?” Sukri inquired, looking around. Her head swam pleasantly.
“It was.”
“Was?”
“Before I evolved,” Kayla explained. “I only come here when it’s raining now. I like to sleep out in the stars.”
“Don’t you get cold?”
“Do I feel cold?” Kayla countered, putting a hand on Sukri’s thigh. Her palm had fur on most of it, with a small hairless section in the upper part of her palm and on each fingertip. And it was very warm.
“How do your claws work?” Sukri asked, shifting her weight uneasily. Kayla held up her other hand, palm down, spreading her fingers wide.
“See your fingertips?” she answered. “Mine are actually pulled backward,” she explained. “I can extend them,” she continued. Long, sharp claws appeared out of her fur, swinging forward and downward. “Then I can pull them back again.” She did so, and the claws swung upward and backward, vanishing into her fur again.
“Always wondered how that worked,” Sukri admitted. “Don’t claw me,” she added with a silly grin. Kayla smiled.
“I would never hurt you,
” she replied. “Unless you asked me to.”
Sukri stared at her, feeling the heat and light pressure of Kayla’s hand still on her thigh. A warmth spread down her lower belly into her groin…along with an unmistakable tingling sensation. She swallowed in a dry throat, staring into those hypnotic golden eyes.
“I might, a little bit,” she admitted.
She felt a sudden pinprick sensation on her thigh, and looked down, seeing a single claw extending from Kayla’s index finger, making a slight dent in her skin.
“Like this?”
“It’s a start,” Sukri murmured.
Kayla retracted the claw, lifting her hand from Sukri’s thigh. She stood then, stepping behind Sukri, then sitting down again so that Sukri was sitting between her legs. Sukri felt the heat of Kayla’s belly on her lower back, and resisted the urge to squirm.
“I give excellent back scratches,” Kayla said. Sukri felt Kayla’s hands slip under her shirt, soft fingertips traveling all the way up to the back of her neck, then trailing down her spine. A chill ran through her, giving her goosebumps.
“Oh,” Sukri murmured. Up and down Kayla’s fingers went…and then they transitioned from soft pressure to a sudden sharpness. Not painful, but surprising. Sukri stiffened.
“Relax,” Kayla murmured.
Sukri tried to, feeling Kayla’s claws trailing gently down her back. More goosebumps.
“That,” she confessed, “…feels amazing.”
“Told you,” Kayla said, and Sukri could tell she was smiling. Kayla kept going, and Sukri felt the tension leave her body. At length, Kayla stopped, slipping her hands out from underneath her shirt.
“Aww,” Sukri said. “I was just starting to…”
“Take your shirt off,” Kayla ordered.
“Excuse me?”
“Take off your shirt,” Kayla repeated. “So I can give you a better back scratch.”
“Oh,” Sukri mumbled. She hesitated, then pulled off her shirt, throwing it to the side. She wasn’t particularly shy, having even gone topless in front of Gammon in the past – and reveling in his obvious discomfort.
