by Jack Porter
I had no idea what to do. This wasn’t something I knew how to fight. Neither enemy would be harmed by a sword, and what use would the whip be against stone? With this thought, I remembered Sarina and turned to where she had been defending herself.
She was still there, slumping against the tree. The two dead elves who had been her guards were dead. She was outside the line of elves, and the hell-fiends almost surrounded her. Her face was turned upward in defiance, and I saw her struggle to stand, the branch still in her hand to wield as a club.
“Jon,” Ilana called sharply, for she must have seen where my gaze had fallen.
Heedless of Ilana’s warning, I ran toward Sarina, pushing my way past the elves until I’d broken through their line.
From behind me, Nya yelled, and the other elves shouted. But Sarina was so close. All I’d have to do would be to grab her and pull her back to safety. I reached the woman, who looked up at me through her locks of wild red hair as I grabbed her arms.
Her eyes had turned red. Sarina was changing into a Hellhound.
“No!” I shouted.
Black hands reached for me—the hell-fiends sensing a victim—and I didn’t want to find out what would happen if they captured me. I hauled Sarina all the way to her feet as the first hands touched me.
I expected something cold or hideous.
Instead, I felt fire.
Yelling, I tried to elbow a hell-fiend in the face, but since it was more like smoke than flesh, my blow didn’t do any damage.
Sarina began shaking, her whole body quivering as if she was having a seizure. As more black hands grabbed my hair, arms, and legs, I turned the woman toward me. We were only a few feet from the elven line, which had reformed after I had broken it. She couldn’t turn now. It was the worst possible time.
But I felt fur beneath my hands and saw her teeth grow into fangs over her lips.
Looking Sarina in the eye, I sank to the ground with her. Before when she’d changed, there had never been anyone to help her. Maybe I could make a difference.
“No!” I yelled again. “You can’t change. Stay with me, Sarina. You do not belong to the Wraith King. You belong with the realm of men and women. Stay.” I shook her in my desperation, but a hint of wildness flashed in her red eyes, and I knew I was losing the battle.
The hell-fiends began to drag me off her, and I tried to fight them, kicking and screaming. “No, Sarina! Fight it! Dammit, woman, fight! Stay. Here.”
But her hands had grown claws and her shoulders began to resemble a hyena’s. The cords holding her splint in place burst apart as her thighs grew and the branch fell away. She screamed then, and the sound of her spine snapping and regrowing came with more twitching. Her ears were growing, too, and more fur sprang out of them.
And then I finally felt pain from the hell-fiends’ hands. It was like someone had stabbed me, but I didn’t give up my grasp on Sarina. I continued to hold her as she changed in my arms. In fact, as I held on, the stabbing pain that had been growing in my side quickly grew numb and then turned to the same raging fire of desire and bloodlust that I’d been battling all day.
A part of me knew that I could die from this, that holding onto a shifting Hellhound was probably on the list of top ten things not to do in Hell. But Sarina had fought so hard to find help, and if I let go, I would be failing her. So I summoned the fire that was still raging through me and tried one more time. “Sarina, I command you to stay.”
To my astonishment, my voice came out deeper and louder than I had intended, and despite all the chaos, it resonated over the mountain.
And for one tiny moment, everything grew quiet.
In my shock, I nearly let go of Sarina’s arms, but I didn’t. Instead, I held eye contact with her.
She stopped changing. The first thing to return to normal were her eyes. They went from bright, glowing red to normal, human green.
Then, her fangs receded into her mouth, and her fur disappeared.
And then more insanity erupted around us, with the sounds of battles being fought all down the road. I maintained eye contact with Sarina even though the hell-fiends were still stabbing me. But all they did was give me more fire to work with, and I channeled it throughout my body to drag Sarina toward the line of elves. I couldn’t believe that no one had come to save us, but it didn’t matter, because the hell-fiends didn’t want to get any closer to the elven spells keeping them at bay.
“Stand aside,” I told the elves. I was sweating now with the fire in my body, and the effort to keep it under control was growing too much to bear. If I couldn’t control it, I didn’t know what would happen, and it terrified me.
But the elves stood resolute and even seemed to close ranks. They weren’t going to let us through. Angry, I finally let go of Sarina and stood to meet them head on.
My blood was pounding in my head, bringing with it the fire of righteous anger. They were supposed to be allies, dammit. Instead, they were shutting me out.
I’d never felt such hate, and the burning in my body moved to my hands as I prepared to charge the line.
“Jon!” Sarina yelled. “No!”
Her voice brought a small bit of caution to me, and just before I launched myself at the elves who had been my saviors, I turned on the hell-fiends.
And let loose the fire out of my hands.
21
With the power I felt coursing through my body, I expected lightning or something to shoot from my fingers, to hurl a fireball, or to create a wave of power that blasted our enemies from the forest.
Instead, my hands felt like they were on fire, but it didn’t burst out of me. The pain grew until it was unbearable and then backed up into my arms. I stepped back as if I could ward it off, but then it exploded throughout my body, and I flew backward into the elves. Burning, fiery pain hit my heart, my head, and my lungs.
I screamed.
And then, I passed out.
22
I regained consciousness on the ground, surrounded by Nya, the Royal Guard, and Sarina. My head hurt like a fucking giant had fucking stomped on it, which, considering that stone monstrosity that had been threatening to squash us, could very well have been the case. Things were much quieter now, with no sounds of battle, so the elves must have dealt with the stone golem.
“Sonofabitch,” I muttered when I tried to sit up. A wave of dizziness passed over me like a tsunami over a toy boat, and Nya pushed me firmly back down. “What happened?” I asked.
Nya shot a look toward Sarina. “Have you ever seen that?” the elf asked.
Sarina shook her head, her wild red hair falling into her face.
“You didn’t change into a Hellhound,” I said, once again trying to sit up.
“You stopped me,” Sarina said.
I sort of remembered that now, although I wasn’t sure how I’d done it. But everyone who was looking at me was doing so very strangely, as if I’d suddenly grown horns or sprouted wings like Ilana. But I hadn’t, as far as I knew. The only lingering effect from the ordeal was the aching in my muscles and the pounding in my head. The powerful urgings to kill and fuck were still there but had abated to the point I could almost ignore them.
When the dizziness passed, I finally looked around.
“Holy shit.”
The elves were picking up what remained of the camp, which was in ruins. A few dead horses lay to the side of the road, their sleek bodies crushed beneath piles of rocks.
“Jon,” Nya said, and there was a warning note in her voice that I’d never heard before, not even in the middle of battle.
I met her eyes. “Yes?”
“What happened to you out there?”
I rubbed my hand over my short beard. “I was hoping you’d tell me. And where’s Ilana? She’s okay, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Nya replied. “She’s helping tend the wounded.”
“Ah.” That was kind of her. Maybe she was starting to feel less animosity from the elves, although a small nagging voice in the back of my
mind suggested a different reason she hadn’t been there when I’d woken. Oh well, Hell didn’t revolve around me. The succubus could do whatever she wanted.
My gaze fell on Sarina, still bound by the wrists and wearing the now-dirty shift. And I realized something else about her. “Your leg is better. The elves fixed it?”
Sarina blinked and then looked at Nya, whose frown had deepened.
“My leg is better, yes,” Sarina finally said, “but the elves’ magic didn’t fix it. Yours did.”
My mouth dropped open, and then I instantly regretted it for the pain that shot through my jaw. “I can’t heal anybody.”
“But you did,” Nya said in that same warning tone.
“What happened?” I repeated.
Nya shook her head. “I do not know, Jon-man. When you tried to cast a spell, you fell over.”
“And?” I prompted.
“We thought you were going to attack the elves,” Nya said. “I am very sorry, Jon, that I doubted you.”
“I’m sorry it looked that way,” I said. “Heat of the moment, I guess. It’s a good thing the hell-fiends stopped attacking, though, huh?”
Nya looked at me strangely. “There’s no time to ponder our fortune now. We must leave this cursed forest as soon as possible.”
I wanted to touch her, this strong elven ruler who looked so shaken. But now wasn’t the time. The camp was a sorry mess, and if we wanted to get out of there before daybreak, then everyone needed to pitch in.
Finally able to walk without fear of falling over, I joined the others in cleaning up. As I did, several of Nya’s guard seemed to be sticking close to me. But when I would look, they would always be working just like I was.
At the final count, fifteen elves had died—twelve butchered by orcs, and three crushed from the flying rocks and boulders that had fallen when the stone golem had burst apart. It was a staggering loss, but considering the overwhelming numbers of our enemy, it could have been much, much worse.
Fortunately, my horse had survived. The poor mare was spooked out of her mind and would barely allow anyone near her. It took nearly half an hour of me waiting before she would allow me to untie her from her tree and lead her to the front of the line.
Sarina’s packhorse hadn’t been so lucky. Mercifully, perhaps, the animal had died quickly when a large boulder fell on its head. Sarina came up and patted my horse’s neck as the elves began mounting. “She is beautiful,” the stable maiden said. “What’s her name?”
I looked at the horse, whose eyes were still wide but who was allowing me to check her saddle. “Not sure. I never asked.”
“She seems to trust you, though,” Sarina said, running her hand over the mare’s legs as if checking for injury. “You should call her something.”
“I should, but she might already have a name. Her previous rider died in battle.”
Sarina smiled sadly. “So much death,” she whispered. Then, she put her mouth to the horse’s ear and said something into it. The mare instantly relaxed and turned to nuzzle Sarina’s hair. I had a wild urge to do the same thing.
Down boy. How many women do you need?
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“My people have their own magic. And the elves pride themselves on their horses, but they don’t rival the High Priestess’ maidens when it comes to handling them.” She glanced around. “Can I ride with you? I am once again without a horse, and we now have more riders than mounts.”
“I thought you might before more comfortable with Ilana. Speaking of, have you seen her?”
“She was with Nya a moment ago… Jon, I don’t think anyone is comfortable riding with me after what happened. And since you have the ability to control my Hellhound...”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t know what that was.”
Sarina took a step forward and took my hand. “Please.”
Nya’s warning from yesterday surfaced in my mind, and I thought that if this was all a trap, then Sarina was doing a very good job of making sure I was the only one to be around her.
Still, she was my responsibility, and if she was a spy, I couldn’t let her ride with Ilana or potentially hurt her. “On one condition,” I said, stepping back so that Sarina could mount my horse.
“What’s that?”
“You help me figure out this magic.”
23
We burned the dead elves and horses on the road, having no other choice since our errand didn’t allow us to turn back, nor did we have the numbers to spare to send the bodies of the dead back to their families. The blue flames of their funeral pyres burned so brightly that I had to look away. The fallen warriors were sang to the afterlife there on the road, and we rode past their still smoldering ashes as we hurried toward our goal.
“Won’t the forest catch fire?” I asked Sarina. She rode in front of me, her wrists still bound, her back pressed against my chest, and her ass pressed against my groin. It was perhaps a bit more intimate than I should have been comfortable with, considering we didn’t trust her, but I could hardly complain.
“The elven fires are enchanted,” Nya called back. “They won’t burn anywhere but the funeral pyres.” She rode directly in front of us, turning her head slightly to speak.
“I should have guessed,” I said.
“It’s a basic magic of Hell, one that everyone learns,” Sarina said, turning her face toward me so that I could see all the imperfections, all the scars.
And all the beauty there, too.
Ilana rode ahead of Nya, and she had been strangely silent since the battle. But since there was little room to pass Nya on the road and talk to her, I’d have to find out what was bothering her later.
If it was jealousy, I hadn’t thought Ilana was the type. She had never worried about me with other women before and had made a point to say so.
“Every race in Hell can enchant fire so that it doesn’t destroy our homes and dwellings,” Sarina continued as if I hadn’t been looking at the succubus, but she must have seen where my gaze was.
“I figured as much after I left your village,” I said. “What kind of magic do your people have?”
“We work within the natural laws of magic, as do other races. We are not blessed like the elves and can only truly use what divine magic the goddess permits us.”
“Why is that?”
Sarina smiled sadly but didn’t speak again for a moment. When she did, her words were quiet. “When the man who is now the Wraith King began attacking the divinity of Hell, the elves stood with the gods and goddesses and defended them. For their loyalty, they were rewarded with more command over the natural laws of magic than other races. A bit of divine magic, you could say. With that, they need to study less to achieve their magic, and have even adapted it to become part of their very essences. A young elfling will still learn spells, but she does not have to go through the years of study that most humans do to attain magical enlightenment. It is simply a part of her.”
“Why didn’t the humans side with the elves?” I asked.
“They were afraid. The Wraith King had already destroyed many of their strongholds, and he was more powerful than anyone had ever seen a human become. So they tried to remain neutral, for fear of retaliation. The war that followed was called The War of the Dead, because the necromancer resurrected the dead to fight against his enemies. He killed all the divinity except one, the goddess I now worship. The humans turned to her at the end of the war, terrified that the Wraith King would overtake everything.
“And he almost did. But we helped her survive. Ever since that time, we have been holding the line against the Wraith King, even when we are forced to pay him tribute or allow his slavers to cross our lands. The elves hate us for not helping the divinity sooner, and they blame us for their deaths. They also hate us for granting the Wraith King passage through our cities and villages. And perhaps we deserve some of that blame. But the goddess has taken pity on us and grants us some magic. If it weren’t for her, we would
not have survived, and possibly the reverse is true, as well.”
“Who is this goddess?” I asked.
“Her name is of no consequence, for she cannot be bound by it.”
I looked at Sarina, who still had her face turned toward me. “But she has a name?”
She looked away. “I’m not permitted to say, man. You ask too many questions.”
“And you’re surprised by this, how?”
Sarina scoffed and then looked back at me with a mischievous smile. “I don’t think you’re as naive as you pretend.”
“About Hell? Well, Sarina, I’m learning more every day.” I smiled at her, and we rode in silence for a bit. Ilana wasn’t turning around to look at me, but Nya did occasionally. Rare behavior indeed.
“Rumor around camp is that you regularly bed the succubus,” Sarina said suddenly.
I glanced down at her, realizing I’d been obsessing slightly about Ilana. It had been a long ride so far, and our time at the waterfall seemed far away.
Unable to stop the smile that crept to my face, I nodded.
“Only a man with powerful magic could achieve that, Jon,” Sarina said. “No man survives a succubus.”
“So I’ve been told,” I said. “But Ilana and I…” I paused.
What? I had saved Ilana’s life, sure. And she claimed she was bound to me although I didn’t want it. But I knew I wanted her with me and couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. I cleared my throat. “Ilana and I have an understanding.”
“And that is?”
I grinned cheekily. “She doesn’t kill me, and I make sure she’s always satisfied.”
Sarina blushed, and it was lovely to see the red tinge in her cheeks. But I’d suddenly remembered something. “So are you a maiden in the strictest sense of the word?” I asked.
“What do you mean?” Sarina asked coyly.
“Are you going to make me say it?”
She fixed a small smile on her face.
Damn, she was beautiful. But there was something wrong with me. I’d never been that kind of guy, to jump from girl to girl, or to keep multiple lovers around. But so far, I’d taken three since landing in Hell—a succubus and two elves. And they’d all been willing, eager, and fantastic. I’d had the best sexual experiences of my life. And when another beautiful woman was forced to share my horse… Was I going to fuck every female here who smiled at me?
