Duel With A Demoness (A Huntsman's Fate Book 2)

by Liam Reese

  “I am old,” Zaynorth said in a weary voice. “If my life has to end in order to recover Joranas, I consider it to be a worthy trade.”

  “Well I don’t!” Besmir growled. “You know how that boy feels about you. What do you think it would do if he knew you died to save him?” Besmir felt a pang of loss and pain stab straight up beneath his sternum. “There will be no more deaths to get Joranas back,” he declared. “Apart from Porantillia,” the king added with a savage grin.

  “I agree,” Arteera said in a quiet voice. “I want nothing more than to have my boy in my arms again but not at such cost.”

  The queen stepped over to Zaynorth and hugged the old man who looked mildly surprised at her actions.

  “Come on now, lass,” he said in a hoarse voice.

  Besmir watched his wife and oldest friend hug, warmth spreading through his chest when the sound of footsteps came to them all.

  Arteera’s eyes went wide in fright.

  “Not again!” She pleaded as something entered the firelight.

  Collise screamed as she felt the teeth ripping at her. Every memory her father had was the same. He was in a gray place being eaten alive by savage monsters that looked as if they had sprung from a nightmare. She tried to pull her mind away from the hideous thoughts but they would not leave her.

  I must be insane. This is what it’s like to lose your mind!

  Calm yourself, child!

  Collise had no idea if that voice really did belong to her father or something inside her that called itself Tiernon. Either way she felt much calmer when it spoke, even though there was an edge of hostility and threat of violence to it.

  Who are you?

  I told you before! He snapped. I am Tiernon, King of Gazluth. There was a pause as he looked through Collise’s short history. Ah, it’s too perfect. Tiernon whispered in her mind. You’re my daughter.

  What’s happening? Collise asked in panic.

  Tiernon’s thoughts took on a mocking, apologetic tone as he sent his thoughts at her.

  I’m sorry but your time as queen must come to an end. I find myself in need of a body and yours presented itself so fortuitously. Feel free to spend the remainder of your time reveling in my memories. I have some business to attend to.

  Collise felt herself pushed aside, inside her own body. Her hands came up and she looked at them, feeling his sense of wonder.

  “So young,” he purred in her voice. “So innocent,” She heard her own nasty chuckle. “I’ll soon change that,” Tiernon said as he turned back down the Hall of Kings.

  Once outside, he turned her face to the sun, soaking up the feeling of warmth and letting it wash away the chill of hell.

  “So Besmir wouldn’t use my palace,” Tiernon said aloud.

  Collise felt a coldness well up in her when Tiernon thought about Besmir. Fear and hate mingled with rage and the need for vengeance, the heady mix of negativity washing through Collise and overwhelming her senses.

  Tiernon strode her body back through the overgrown and burned gardens towards the gate in the curtain wall. He paused outside in consideration of the people there, all wandering about without a care in the world, happy and free while he had been exiled in hell. Collise felt her teeth snap together and grind in anger.

  We shall see who suffers now. Tiernon thought.

  Collise watched as her body shoved through the crowds, making for the house she had been using. Tiernon cared nothing for the people he rudely bashed into and a number of them turned disapproving glares at her as she passed.

  “Look where you’re going!” One man finally shouted, pushing Collise’s shoulder hard enough to make her stumble.

  Tiernon didn’t even hesitate. Collise watched in horror as her hand shot out, the hair on her forearm standing straight up as lightning lanced from her fingers and into his chest. The stranger jerked, his whole body going into spasm as electricity hammered through it. A small fire started on his chest where the power smashed into his body, setting light to his clothes.

  Tiernon halted the power and watched in satisfaction as the man’s body fell to the ground, dead. A second later the screaming began.

  People scattered, shrieking in their fear as Tiernon moved off towards the house Besmir used.

  “You can’t do this!” Someone screamed.

  “What?” Tiernon demanded, turning to face the woman.

  She was slightly taller than Collise, in her late twenties or early thirties and dressed in a royal guards livery. Without weapons, Collise assumed she was on her way from her home to wherever she worked and had stumbled across this scene. Collise stared at her through the eyes she could not control and screamed warnings the woman could not hear as Tiernon chuckled inside her mind.

  “I said you can’t just murder people at will!” The guard said.

  Collise saw she was pretty, with long hair and porcelain skin, large brown eyes and pink, bow shaped lips. Collise imagined what she would look like burned and smoldering on the ground.

  “I believe I can,” Tiernon said, raising Collise’s hand.

  Pain lanced up the arm as soon as he had pointed it at the woman and Collise laughed inside her mind as the guard twisted and pulled Tiernon off balance to slap into the ground.

  Her mirth was short lived, however, as Tiernon glowed incandescently with rage. Flames exploded from the hand the guard had pinned at her back, scorching Collise’s back as well as burning the guard. She cried out, letting go of the hand that had suddenly erupted in fire, and falling back as Tiernon rolled over.

  “How dare you touch me!” He cried. “I am King Tiernon Fringor and now you die!”

  Something caught Collise a glancing blow on the side of the temple, knocking her head around and making her vision blur. Tiernon struggled to make sense of the world around him as several dark shapes approached.

  “Stop this, Collise!” Branisi cried.

  Her words fell on deaf ears as Tiernon swung to throw flame at them all, missing as they scattered and his aim was fouled by the blow to Collise’s head. Branisi chopped her arm downwards in an arc and several members of the royal guards rose up, firing solid little projectiles at Collise.

  Tiernon had not possessed a body for some time and as he was not used to using Collise’s, did not manage to erect any kind of barrier that would have easily stopped them before. He screamed in her high voice as the lead balls smashed into him, each impact stinging and burning as it hit. Distracted by the pain neither Tiernon or Collise saw the pellet that felled them. One of the guards, an expert in the use of these slingshots, managed to hit Collise directly at the base of her skull. Darkness crowded her vision as the blow rendered even Tiernon unconscious.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Teghime!” Besmir cried as soon as her furred paw stepped inside.

  Relief hit him like a punch to the stomach and he noticed similar expressions on the faces of his friends as he grabbed the huge cat’s ears and rubbed them hard. Teghime rumbled low in her throat, following the scent of the creature across to where it had plunged to death in the pit.

  “It’s gone, girl,” Besmir said sending his thoughts into the daasnu to calm her.

  With a final snuffle and grunt the creature trotted over and nudged Besmir until he started scratching her ears again.

  “I’m guessing we’ll have to stay here at least a couple of days,” Besmir stated, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

  “Don’t worry,” Pira said, “we Corbondrasi heal fast. I will ride in the morning.”

  Besmir glanced at him and Cal Trin before turning back to his wife.

  “The least we can do is feed them,” he said.

  The following morning, light filtered into the building through some means Besmir could not begin to understand. He walked to the edge of the chasm and looked down into the darkness as the sun rose outside. His head swam as he stared down into the hole, unable to bring himself to believe people had dug to such a depth. There was no way he could
see the bottom even now there was light flooding into the room and what he could see of the walls was sheets of jagged, broken rock that had been hewed from the depths.

  Besmir stepped back, his head reeling with the immensity of the quarry.

  Who were these people to have dug this, built these cities and then just left?

  They packed, Pira slowed by his arm being bound, then led their animals back through the strange building and out into the already hot sun. Besmir helped the half Corbondrasi to mount his horse, making sure he was steady before leaping onto Teghime's back.

  The creams and ointments Ru Tarn and the Corbondrasi King had provided them with had helped Besmir's skin turn from its usual pale color to a light nut brown. He found he could strip virtually naked and not feel the savage effects of the sun, enjoying the feeling of wind kissing his skin.

  Water was still difficult to come by but with Cal Trin’s expertise and experience in desert life they were able to get enough to survive. Days wore on as they trekked northeast, following roads that had long since sunk into the desert. Occasionally they saw other cities or individual buildings, all stacked from the same dark stone but avoided them entirely, not knowing what manner of things might inhabit the ruins.

  Their food supplies began to run low and Besmir began to send his mind out, following Teghime as she loped across the hard ground in search of prey. Initially he sought out animals they could eat and laboriously walked them back to wherever they were camping, exhausting himself with the effort of ranging so far from his body. One evening, after a particularly hard day’s riding, he fell into an exhausted sleep before her had ventured far at all. His consciousness drifted, loosed from his body, following paths at random.

  He flowed upwards, carried by unseen forces, sailing north over hills and cresting the tops of a sea of trees. The forest had died years ago, the wood now bleached white with wisps of wood curling out here and there. It was vast, running for miles in any direction and at the western edge he saw a dark smudge almost the same size as the forest had been.

  Knowledge flowed into him as he looked at it.

  Ludavar. That’s where Joranas lies.

  Besmir knew the voice that had spoken those words in his mind and distaste flooded his mind. Cathantor chuckled at his hate and Besmir felt his mind sucked along by the God’s power. They soared far above the world, out and up every detail growing smaller by the second until Besmir could see the edge of Boranash, where it met the sea on the far side of the immense Aziraz desert. Still farther Cathantor took him, up through clouds until he was able to see the world was like a ball. A green and blue ball floating in the night sky.

  Fear gripped Besmir as he looked down at the world where his body lay thousands of miles away.

  Where are we going? Am I dead now?

  Cathantor didn’t answer and Besmir wondered if the God had abandoned him here, leaving his consciousness floating in the night sky for eternity. Panic gripped him when he found he could not move. Normally he could consider a direction and his mind floated that way but here the rules seemed different and he began to scream, fright and panic overwhelming him.

  The globe before him started to fade and he welcomed the darkness, calming and soothing as he fell into a deep slumber.

  When he woke abruptly Besmir knew exactly where he was. He had been here before, met his mother Rhianne and been guided by Ranyor. The afterlife was as much a paradise as it had been on his previous visit. Vast green plains swayed lazily in the gentle breeze as herds of cows, buffalo and numerous other creatures wandered through them. A great forest, alive with a thousand different types of tree, stretched off into the distance and Besmir breathed deep lungfuls of the purest air he had ever smelled.

  He could not begin to understand how he had a body here when his body lay in Aristulia but he stretched his arms out, seeing the familiar hands at the end of them. As before he saw someone approaching him and hoped it would be Ranyor again. He set off towards his old friend but soon realized his walk was different, the way his shoulders swayed was not how Ranyor moved and caution grabbed at him.

  The man had a friendly smile as he came across to where Besmir stood staring out over the verdant grasslands. Just taller than Besmir he was obviously Gazluthian with the pale skin and dark hair Besmir’s race nearly all shared. He had broad shoulders and the muscled torso of a swordsman. There was a certain familiarity to his features but Besmir could not recall ever having met this man before and turned to him.

  “Hello,” he said carefully but politely. “I’m Besmir.”

  “I know,” the man said in a deep, mellow voice. “We’ve met before.”

  His knowing smile began to irritate Besmir as did the wrinkles of mirth around his eyes, both making Besmir feel as if he were being mocked.

  “Then you have me at a disadvantage,” Besmir snapped, “because I don’t remember you at all.”

  “Although I did look somewhat different when we met,” the man said. “I would have thought a boy would know his father.”

  “Joranas!” Besmir shouted, grabbing his father in a tight hug. “What happened? How? I watched Porantillia rip off your head!”

  “And that was an agony I wish never to repeat,” his father said with a wry twist of his lips. “When I woke up I was here, whole, and reunited with your mother.”

  Joranas’ eyes misted at the thought of his wife but a smile crossed his face. Besmir saw he had a small scar leading up from the right side of his lips.

  “I’m not sure why I am here, but I believe it’s Cathantor’s way of rewarding me for centuries of service in Hell.”

  “I’m so happy for you, father,” Besmir said, “but shouldn’t there be someone there to guard the portal?”

  “Not since somebody released Porantillia,” Joranas said, pursing his lips. “What were you thinking son?”

  “She has my son!” Besmir cried. “And I will do anything to see his safe return.”

  “Anything?” Cathantor asked, appearing behind them.

  Joranas dropped to one knee, bowing his head to the God but Besmir turned, staring directly into Cathantor’s deer eyes, his own laced with malice.

  “Yes. Anything,” he said hotly.

  “That’s good,” Cathantor said mildly. “Because my brother, sister and I have something we have to tell you. Come,” He ordered.

  Besmir ground his teeth and looked at his father who had gone pale and wore an expression of utter shock.

  “Besmir!” He gasped. “You must show respect. That’s Cathantor.”

  “I know who he is,” Besmir grunted, “and what he’s capable of. Or not. I refuse to be cowed by someone who sees us as playthings.”

  Besmir felt his father’s stare as he trudged off across paradise behind the strange animal amalgam that made the body of the God. Besmir frowned as he walked, although he had been a hunter and tracker, reading signs in the ground and environment, he could not detect any sign of Cathantor’s passing. He knew the God was there as he could see his brown, furred back, tail dragging in the grass, but there was nothing before Besmir to show he had walked this way. Not a hoof print, not a broken stem of grass or any other sign he had been there. The hunter king frowned and Cathantor turned, walking backwards and laughing.

  “I’m not here,” he said. “This place is for the spirits of those who’ve passed and I’m very much alive.”

  Cathantor paused and held an arm out to Besmir. It ended in two hard hooves rather than a hand and Besmir grabbed it awkwardly. He felt a jerk as if the universe had shifted around him and found himself at the edge of the sea where they had been before.

  “Going to get your sister to shout at me again?” He asked.

  Joranas gasped at the comment and Besmir turned, surprised to see him there as he had not touched Cathantor at all. The God himself responded with laughter as Sharise began to grow from the water before them.

  Besmir watched as a section of the calm water grew upwards, reaching several feet in heigh
t before gaining any kind of recognizable shape. Legs, arms, body and head became distinct as the thing flowed towards them, still merged with the sea. Besmir had seen some of the Ninsians on a state visit who had a pastime that involved riding atop waves on a carved, wooden board. Sharise’s approach was much the same, apart from the fact her feet merged with the water’s surface and she had no need of a board.

  Features appeared as she neared them. Kelp-like hair sprouted to fall down her face and chest, covering her breasts. Her face developed and Besmir was surprised to see she was quite ugly to his eyes. She had a large chin and sagging cheeks, a thin lipped mouth and dirty green eyes that regarded him with disinterest. Her belly was flat but had no navel and ran down to wide hips that were covered in shimmering fish scales, that glowed with a rainbow of color as she moved. Her legs and bottom were cloaked in the same scales and she stepped from the water to the sand at exactly the same point her appearance was complete.

  Besmir turned as he sensed movement from beside him and saw his father was down on one knee again. The hunter king shook his head and turned back to the Gods.

  “So what now?” He asked rudely.

  Sharise turned to regard him with a baleful stare, utter displeasure on her face.

  “Now, mortal, we await the arrival of our eldest,” she thundered in a voice that could shake mountains.

  Besmir saw she had barnacles attached to her arms and coral grew on her back as some kind of odd crustacean crawled through the kelp of her hair.

  “Will he be long?” Besmir asked. “Because I’ve got something quite important to do at the moment.”

  Cathantor turned a warning glance on him but Sharise’s expression flicked into rage and she grew before them, arms stretching out into tentacles with fleshy hooks along their surfaces. Her head flowed downwards, sucking the kelp into it as her shoulders melted and a sickening mouth grew in the middle of her chest. A ring of wrinkled muscles twitched constantly, sucking at the double row of almost human looking teeth there. Sharise snapped her teeth together, grabbing Besmir with her tentacles and lifting him towards her maw.