by M. D. Grimm
“Now!”
Aishe locked his arms around my waist. I flew through the air, not with magick, but imagination and will. I flew straight at the demon and locked my hands around his throat. Black eyes in my father’s face stared back at me in shock and confusion.
“This is my domain!” The demon struggled. “You can’t defeat me in my own domain!”
“You’re right.”
I focused on Drefeln and the sensation was similar to Atcoatlu. I could feel a small siphoning of my own magick to feed her. It was a price I willingly accepted. I had to get us out of here. Her siren’s song spun through my head, tingled against my own magick. I gritted my teeth to keep it in check. I had a destination in mind, a goal, I wouldn’t let the damn carnelian divert it. Dreamworld spiraled out of control, forms and colors mixing and swirling. It felt like we were plummeting, down, down... down.
Slam!
Both Aishe and I sat up, gasping for breath. My hands were still wrapped around the demon’s throat. As Aishe scrambled off the bed, as Grendela gave a cry of surprise, the demon with my father’s face began to dissolve into a black mist.
“What did you do?” The demon was squealing, demanding answers. I wondered if being out of Dreamworld hurt. I dearly hoped so.
I stumbled off the bed, still holding the demon. I vaguely felt Drefeln slip from my hand and thump to the floor. She didn’t matter anymore. Nothing mattered except vengeance. I looked the demon straight into its dissolving eye sockets.
“Welcome to my domain, asshole.” My magick built inside until it was a throbbing pressure behind my eyes, until it was boiling and bubbling in my veins. It felt so good to feel it again, to wield it again. I was a mage, and magick was part of who I was. It was how I defined myself. Now I had it back, and my will, my control, my desire, they all united for one purpose. There was no hesitation.
I said one word of magick. My mind said two: slow death.
Magick flashed inside me, charging toward the surface like a tidal wave. It spilled over and white-hot flame raced down my arms, to my hands, engulfing the demon. It screamed, shrilly. I continued to hold it up off the floor, and vaguely noticed the stone walls and floor begin to melt from the heat, the wooden bed and trunks ignited in flame. I didn’t care. Grendela and Aishe were safely behind me as I unleashed all my fury upon this miserable rodent.
The demon was only black mist but it could still burn. It clawed at my arms, gouging my flesh. I barely felt it. This demon had thrown my father, my victims, in my face like someone throwing a sucker punch, as carelessly as one would throw a ball for a dog to fetch. He’d toyed, played, and laughed at my pain and confusion and grief. I saw those faces in dreams, and he’d made them all too real. Yet what I did to him wasn’t because of what he’d done to me. This demon forced Aishe to relive the most horrendous moment of his life. He hurt Aishe’s body and soul and heart. He gleefully devastated Aishe, laughed at his agony. Even worse than that, he’d used my face to kill Aishe’s heart, to devastate him beyond recovery. Our relationship was now fractured, a crack running between us, like a bottomless cavern. I saw it in Aishe’s eyes, and I heard it when he hesitated in answering if he trusted me or not.
Would we ever heal? I didn’t know. The flames grew hotter, roaring like an inferno; a great beast devouring a juicy bit of prey.
“You used my face.” My words were barely more than a snarl. “You used my face!”
The demon struggled, and I continued to burn. Slowly, so slowly, he began to turn to ash. From bottom to top, black ash spilled onto the floor. In the back of my mind, I knew I was using too much magick, too much inside me. I didn’t stop. My body never faltered or failed, and my magick never felt strained. I was using so much, and yet why no ill effects? It didn’t matter. I wasn’t done, yet, the demon was only half burned. Growling deeply, I tightened my hold.
“Who released you?” I asked.
The demon screamed.
I intensified the fire and it was now blinding, melting everything near it. Sweat broke out on my face, and my hands turned red, my skin peeling back.
I screamed. “Who released you?”
“Mage! Suvar!”
My jaw clenched painfully. I wasn’t done killing today.
I watched as the physical and spiritual essence of the demon turned to ash. I didn’t know how long it took me, how long its screams filled my ears. Eventually, there was nothing left to hold. I lowered my arms, ash falling between my raw, black-tipped fingers. At my feet sat a small pile of smoldering black ash. The fire vanished from my arms, although my magick still churned and bubbled.
I felt no fatigue.
With a word in my head and a flick of my fingers, a jar appeared in my hand. With another word, I conjured the ash into the jar and sealed it shut. I wasn’t taking any chances. Perhaps the demon could reform, given enough time. It would need room to do that, however, room I wouldn’t give it. I set the jar on the desk after banishing the fire that licked at it.
Then I turned and caught myself in the mirror warped from the heat. I looked like a demon myself. My eyes burned amber, cold and cruel. My skin was stretched brutally across my face, glowing white. My hair floated slightly, giving my appearance more of a wild look. And my sleeves were burnt, my hands red and black, bleeding. I frowned at them.
Drefeln lay on the floor, still singing. I didn’t even notice the loss. My fury had some benefit to it, since it overcame the song of a stone of power. Not real surprising, considering Drefeln was worthless in the face of my rage, my thirst for revenge, and my overwhelming, all-consuming love for Aishe. None of the stones would ever have the power that he had over me.
I finally looked at Grendela and Aishe. Grendela had used her own minor brand of magick to protect them both from the heat. Both of their eyes were huge with fear, focused on me.
Grendela hurriedly bowed, her entire body pressed to the floor.
“Leave us.” My voice was stone. She scurried away.
Aishe stayed sitting, pressed against the wall. His breathing was rough, his chest moving frantically. I knelt. He flinched. My heart snapped in half.
“Suvar conjured the demon.” My voice still sounded like stone. “The demon messed with both our heads. Suvar set it loose. I’m going after him. You want to join me?”
He swallowed hard as he stared at me, sweaty and exhausted. He nodded. I stood.
“Morgorth?”
“Yes.”
“I—I don’t want to be a-afraid of you.” The tremor in his voice caused my magick to falter. My hands clenched into fists.
“Then don’t be. This wrath is not for you. It’s for Suvar. My wrath is because of you. He harmed you, my love, and now I wish to slice him in half. I want you to join me.”
He appeared to swallow my words, and his expression hardened. He used the wall to stand. “I will join you. I’ve wanted to puncture him with my arrows since we met.”
I smiled slightly. “Then let’s do this, baby.”
Chapter Twelve
Aishe
I was confused, disoriented, still struggling to know what was real or imaginary. The dream had been so real. All my senses were activated, all my memories plumbed and twisted into a nightmare of proportions I could never have imagined. I knew it would be a long time before I felt like myself, before I could truly decipher what was real and what wasn’t. It helped to focus on a mission, and especially one of revenge. It energized me, allowed me to shove aside, not forget, that wasn’t possible, the devastating impact of the demon’s manipulations. Despite the realistic elements of the dream, I knew now it was a dream. I was awake, now, I could truly feel now. I was looking at the real Morgorth. I’d looked into his eyes in the dream, and now I forced myself to do the same now we were awake. The demon did a good job duplicating him, but I could see the fundamental difference between them: despite the wrath flaming in his eyes, Morgorth loved me. The demon hadn’t.
He would kill for me, because of me. He would always protect
me. I knew that to my core, and yet the visceral memory of the dream wouldn’t be forgotten that easily. The demon was gone, nothing but ash. The heat of Morgorth’s fire was a living, wrathful thing, and I’d felt it all the way to my bones. Sweet Mother’s light, he turned a demon to ash. I didn’t think that was possible. Since meeting him, though, I’ve had to redefine what I thought impossible.
I shook my head sharply, struggling to focus on Suvar, on the one who had unleashed the demon. Garbed in the protective tunic Morgorth made me, and gripping my bow and the strap of my quiver, I stood next to him on the landing outside Geheimnis’s doors. I took deep breaths, trying to find some balance, willing to settle for anything I could find.
We needed to teleport back to the Tower to pick up Suvar’s trail. Morgorth held out his hand, no longer raw and burned. I healed him the best I could, my shaky mind hindering my abilities. Most of the flesh on his hands was white again, except the tips of his fingers were still slightly black. I flinched at his movement. I knew he saw it, but he did nothing, said nothing. He simply stood, motionless. I took another deep breath and gripped his familiar hand. It shocked me to realize it was cold. Freezing. Then I thought of the fire. It had come from inside him. He’d used his own body heat to create it. He was going to drop hard after this final task.
Visions of him shooting magick at me, harming me, crossed my mind. I shuddered and shoved them aside. That wasn’t Morgorth! That was the demon. At the time, I thought it was him, and my heart broke. No, worse, it was torn out of my chest and devoured before my eyes by a beast. My beloved mage had turned on me, tortured me like he had his father.
No, he hadn’t. That wasn’t him! Dear Mother help me!
The nothingness during teleportation pressed against me. My grip on his hand tightened even though I couldn’t feel it. I vividly remembered him teleporting me to Geheimnis, locking me inside our home like a prisoner. Anger burned my gut and I focused on it, using it to center me. I would take anything other than the despair and fear still trembling in my guts. Then I blinked and we were standing in Valen, the small town next to the White Tower. He let go of my hand and stepped forward. I missed the contact.
I noticed townsfolk begin to stop and stare, and it was hardly a wonder why. He was still glowing, his eyes still a hard amber. Violent magick pumped off him in waves and the vibration of it was palpable. He was a mage on the edge, and I could well understand the townsfolk’s fear. I felt it myself despite my best efforts. I gripped the bow, taking some comfort in the familiar length of it.
“Where is Suvar?” he said. I swallowed hard. His voice was hollow, devoid of mercy or restraint. It proved just how far into the deep, dark well of vengeance he had plunged. He was on a mission, and he wouldn’t rest until he reached his goal.
Seelas glanced at each other, pale and wide-eyed. Morgorth stood there, looking from one face to another. When a long moment past without an answer, he huffed out a breath. He brought up his hand and, for a moment, I thought he was going to blast down a building. I couldn’t move. My feet were rooted to the ground. Not as a child and not as an adult when we met in Happy Valley, had I ever hesitated to stop him, calm him. Now I did. It was foolish, but I couldn’t shake the fear I had of him.
To the relief of all gathered, he didn’t blast. He turned his hand palm up and an amazing portrait formed, the subject looking exactly like Suvar. The portrait rotated just above his hand, and Morgorth slowly turned, making sure all the citizens saw it.
“This is Suvar. You will tell me whether he is still here. If he is not, you will tell me in which direction he journeyed. Now.”
“My lord.”
He turned. I looked over and it took me a moment to realize the seela who spoke was Nayla, the female innkeeper who had shown us to our room. The one who thought I was a servant.
She pointed. “He went north not even an hour ago.”
The portrait of Suvar vanished, and Morgorth held out his hand to me again. I didn’t flinch this time, yet it took considerable effort to move to his side and take it. There was no emotion on his face when he looked at me, but I knew I was hurting him. I felt his magick flare up and, instead of teleporting, he used his magickal speed. I gripped him harder as we raced down the north lane.
Why didn’t Suvar teleport where he needed to go? Why was he walking?
It didn’t take us long to find him. Morgorth stopped abruptly and I stumbled. He let go of my hand. Suvar was right in front of us, walking away.
“Suvar!”
I shuddered at his voice. It was now a fiery evil that destroyed not only for pleasure, but because it had been created for just that purpose. It was focused and unstoppable.
I looked at him, took in his burning amber eyes, his glowing skin, the waves of energy fluctuating around him. Then I remembered the gentleness of his touch, his words that broke me free from the demon’s grip. I remembered the look in his eyes when he’d crawled toward me. Even with his fury bubbling, he took care to be gentle with me. That knowledge centered me further.
He stepped forward as Suvar turned around. It was obvious he knew why we were there the minute he saw us. Had he been waiting for us? What had he sought to accomplish with the demon?
Suvar attacked first. Morgorth blocked it easily before sending a stream of white fire at him. Suvar dodged and counterattacked. It was fast and ugly, a deadly dance, the weapons pure elements. I kept moving, wary that Suvar would decide to attack me to distract Morgorth. I nocked an arrow and waited for my chance. Their magick was bright, and I couldn’t look directly at the streams of green, yellow, blue, or purple their spells generated. I paid careful attention to their hand gestures, the movement of their arms, and started to accurately predict their next spell. When they flicked their hands and wrists, they would use air or force, and when cupping their hands as if lifting something, they controlled the earth. Waving the hands indicated either fire or water. Those weren’t always true, and yet it was enough for me to gauge their next move. Morgorth’s lessons hadn’t been wasted on me.
I saw my opening. I shot the arrow. It darted at Suvar’s leg, the weak element in his stance. I’d observed him diligently and realized his stance was shoddy and he danced too much. While Morgorth’s stance was solid like the earth, Suvar’s was light as air and easily broken.
Suvar saw my arrow at the last minute and blocked it. I already nocked another and watched for an opening. He now noticed me and took a chance, shooting a stream of fire at me. Morgorth growled out a word and a shield sprang up between me and the spell. It hit hard as I crouched. The fire flooded over the length of the shield, licking at the edges, trying to find flesh. The flames blocked my vision. I felt the heat, sweat sliding down my face. Then everything happened at once.
I heard the breaking and rumbling of earth being torn and contorted, and the ground shook with the force. Morgorth’s shield vanished, and I had to pounce and roll to avoid the rest of the fire. I swung around to see Morgorth flying through the air, but not of his own will. He was limp like a doll, and when he hit the ground, it was with full force. Horrified, I wanted to deny the realization that he wasn’t moving. He lay motionless a short distance away. I looked back at Suvar to see a large portion of earth jutted up unnaturally. It must have acted like a club and smashed into Morgorth from behind. Suvar succeeded in using me as a distraction and divided Morgorth’s focus. Now Morgorth lay far from me. He might be dead.
All events of the past several days vanished. All doubt and anger and fear I had felt since waking were gone. Suvar was my focus, now. He’d harmed Morgorth. My mate. My best friend. My family. Morgorth was mine, would always be mine, and no one was going to take him away from me. Not mages, not demons, not even himself. We belonged together. I believed that to the very core of my being.
I straightened slowly, eyes locked on Suvar. I raised my bow.
“You,” Suvar said, loathing coating his words. “It’s all your fault. You made him weak, dialen. He could have been great. He could
have fixed the council, he could have created a new age for mages, for this entire world. But his affection for you has made him pathetic. Instead of leading us into a new dawn, he isolates himself in his castle, hiding from the world. Ashamed of what he is. You’ve made him a laughingstock.”
I considered Suvar. He looked tired, his face strained and tight, his robes torn and singed at places. His lush hair was mussed, and he trembled slightly. In stark contrast, his eyes were strong and ferocious, gleaming with excitement.
His words should mean nothing to me. Yet there was a small pang to my heart I tried to ignore. I made Morgorth stronger, not weaker. He was far from pathetic. And yet, given what just happened, I had to wonder if there was some truth to Suvar’s words. Morgorth sent me home because he feared for my safety, and rightly so. I finally admitted to myself I had been out of my depth at the inquiry, that his decision had been the right one. It was hard, but I managed to swallow my pride and acknowledge my limits. How could I not when a mage tried to scramble my brain, to manipulate my memories, to betray Morgorth? He’d nearly succeeded.
Morgorth proved himself smarter and cleverer than all of them, though. He came prepared, he expected treachery, and he had protected me against my will. I didn’t like it, but I did understand it. I wasn’t equipped to go toe-to-toe with a mage and win. Right now, though, I had no choice.
“You sent the demon to destroy me,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
“I sent the demon to prove to Morgorth you’re a liability. You’re easily broken and your loyalty fragile. He can’t guarantee your safety. Why would you want to stay with someone who could destroy you like that.” He snapped his fingers.
I stared at him, finally understanding his deranged plan. “If the demon killed me, you’d have reached your goal. If Morgorth saved me, you’d assume I would leave him. Either way, he ends up alone and, therefore, easily manipulated.”
