Demon Games [4]

by Steve Feasey

  If anything, the stench that hit Lucien as he crossed the threshold into the sorceress’s house was worse than that outside. The air was thick with the reek from whatever was cooking on the pot-bellied stove – a truly unpleasant smell, sickly sweet and cloying, as if something rotten and putrid had been boiled up.

  The old woman was hunched over the stove, her back to the vampire. She made a grunting sound, waving her visitor towards two chairs that sat facing each other in front of an ornate fireplace in which a huge fire burned. Without a pause she continued the low murmurings of her spell.

  Lucien eyed the shadows behind the sorceress, looking for the creature that guarded the old woman so fanatically that she could call visitors into the house without even turning round to see if they posed any threat. He saw it in the corner, and the thing looked back at him from baleful eyes as black as the shadows that hid it.

  Hag had grown the mandragore a very long time ago, nurturing the plant root with milk and blood and honey until it had eventually taken on life. It was usual to free the mandragore at this point, but Hag had kept the creature chained down in a vat of milk, adding blood and honey each day for a further year until it had grown into the enormous thing that glared back at the vampire from the darkness. It was the perfect guardian for the sorceress: mandragores are almost impossible to destroy, and are ferociously loyal to their creators. But Hag had grown the creature for more than just its brute strength and durability – demons are unable to enter the place where a mandragore resides, so Hag slept well in the knowledge that her home was off-limits to the vast majority of nether-creatures that might wish her harm.

  Lucien had seen the creature before, but he was still taken aback by its appearance: more tree-like than anything else, thick, muscular limbs hung down from a body that was coarse and bloated like the bulbous root it had been grown from. A horizontal slash below its eyes served as a mouth, and it opened this now in a threatening gesture that treated the vampire to a view of the black emptiness within. If a mandragore screamed, every living thing in the vicinity would be killed, but Hag had removed her sentinel’s voice a long time ago.

  Hag tut-tutted in the creature’s direction, and Lucien couldn’t help but smile as it lowered its massive head, looking at the floor between its feet like a scolded child. It slipped further into the shadowy corner of the room, sulking.

  Lucien moved away, glad to be able to put some distance between himself and that terrible smell. He took one of the seats and waited.

  He looked around. Like the outside, the interior of the place was exactly how he remembered the sorceress’s former dwelling, and he briefly wondered if this might not actually be the same house uprooted and transplanted to a new spot. The shelves were crammed full of jars, boxes and bottles of every size and description. Stacked up on the floor were cages containing live animals. From small rodents to larger animals like cats and dogs, the menagerie was a miserable one, and the smell of fear that came from the creatures added to the stink of the place.

  The old woman swore and kicked at the stove, making some of the boiling mixture spill out of the pot on to her foot. She issued a fresh string of expletives and curses before turning to regard the vampire with a fierce glare.

  ‘Ruined,’ she said, gesturing at the pot behind her. ‘Do you see what you’ve done? Coming here uninvited like this. Are you happy?’

  ‘You knew I was coming, Hag. Do not pretend otherwise.’ He used the only name he’d ever known her by – the only name anyone knew her by. ‘Moriel sent word that she would be bringing me.’

  Hag shuffled towards him, moving into the dim light for the first time and looking down at him. She narrowed her eyes and ran her tongue over her toothless gums before settling herself into the chair opposite his.

  Lucien took in her face. It was ancient and unpleasant. Hag looked back at him, unblinking under the vampire’s scrutiny. She’d lived in this realm for as long as Lucien could remember, lured here from the human world by the prospect of uncovering lost secrets of the dark magic she’d studied so assiduously throughout her life. He had never known her look any different from the way she did now; if she’d discovered the elixir of everlasting youth, she’d done so too late.

  ‘And to what do I owe the pleasure?’ she said.

  Lucien opened his mouth wide, pulling his lips back to reveal the vicious fangs which hung down from his upper jaw. He hissed at the old woman, a sinister and threatening sound.

  The mandragore began to move out of its corner, but Hag halted it with a lift of her hand. If she was intimidated by the vampire, she gave no sign of it. Instead she tutted at herself, shaking her head, ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘how rude of me. I haven’t offered you anything.’ She pulled her grey hair back from her shoulders to reveal the scrawny, alabaster neck beneath. ‘Would you like something to drink?’ She laughed raucously, the ugly sound filling the room as if she had just told the funniest joke ever. She looked up into the vampire’s stony face, and the laughter slowly died away. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said once she’d got herself under control again. ‘Just an old woman’s silly sense of humour.’

  ‘As you can see,’ Lucien went on, this time holding up his hands, the backs facing the sorceress, so that she could see the talons there, ‘your magic appears to no longer be working.’ He returned his hands to his lap, and his pupils blazed a terrifying orange-gold that wiped any sense of mirth from the old woman’s face.

  There was a perfect stop, the animals all falling silent and remaining perfectly still; every one of them – even the frogs and newts in their aquatic prisons – stared unmovingly at the vampire. Lucien’s eyes held those of the sorceress. ‘I am not happy with this, Hag. And I do not appreciate your…jokes.’

  The old woman managed a small nod by way of an apology.

  After a moment the room sprang back to life again.

  Hag cleared her throat. ‘You must tell me what happened, Lucien,’ she said.

  Hag sat, listening to Lucien chronicle everything that had happened to him: how he had taken the lycanthrope boy, Trey, into his care; how Caliban had captured his daughter; and how he and his vampire brother had fought. He told her how the bite wound on his shoulder, and the infection that came about as a result, had nearly ended his life, and how he believed that the wound was the cause of what was happening to him now. He explained how Trey had stolen Mynor’s Globe from Caliban and brought it back.

  ‘… and that is why I am here now. To see if you can help me as you helped me once before.’

  The old woman sat silently throughout his narration, frowning here and there, but never interrupting. When it was clear the vampire had finished, she tipped her head back in her chair, running her tongue over her gums while she thought. When she leaned forward and spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper.

  ‘You are already dead, Lucien.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘You described how you were in a coma-like state, and how you thought your brother’s attack would ultimately lead to your death.’ She studied him for a moment from beneath her brow. ‘But you are already dead. You have been dead for over two hundred years. When your brother ended your human life and made you into a vampire by giving you his infected blood, you died. Have you forgotten that?’

  ‘Of course not. I merely meant—’

  ‘Your choice of words is interesting,’ she said, interrupting him. ‘As are your recent experiences.’ She paused again. ‘Who performed the ritual with the Globe to bring you back?’

  ‘Alexa.’

  ‘Ah yes, the dhampir daughter. She is becoming quite a sorceress, I understand.’

  Lucien ignored the insult. A dhampir was indeed the child of a vampire father and human mother, but the term was only ever used in a derogatory way here in the Netherworld. Hag was a powerful sorceress, and like all of her kind she hated the idea that another practitioner of magic might be moving up the ranks, acquiring skills and knowledge she herself might not have, or might wish to kee
p secret. Fights and squabbles would often break out over these things, and Lucien didn’t doubt that Hag might perceive Alexa as a threat. He waited for the old woman to go on.

  ‘It’s hardly surprising. She is a child conceived entirely through magic. Who would have thought that her mother possessed the power to reanimate that part of your anatomy for long enough to make such a thing possible?’ Hag cackled again, ignoring the look Lucien gave her.

  ‘She has clearly inherited all Gwendolin’s skill –’ the sorceress batted at a fat black fly that bothered the air in front of her – ‘and would seem to be even more powerful, if she has managed to perform what you have just described.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘To give you rebirth, Lucien. To bring the undead back from the dead.’ She stopped, looking across at him in a strange way. ‘You are unique, vampire. You have died twice, once as a human and now as a vampire, and yet here you are.’

  ‘That cannot be,’ Lucien said, shaking his head.

  ‘I try not to be concerned with what others tell me can and cannot be,’ she said, waving her hand dismissively in his direction in the same way she had at the fly. ‘What has become of the Globe now?’

  ‘It is useless. The magic that it contained seems to have gone. It is little more than a pretty black paperweight now.’

  ‘Shame,’ the old woman said with a shake of her head. ‘It was a much treasured artefact. But then Gwendolin always was very careless about the way she looked after – and protected – such things. Its disappearance explains a number of things.’

  ‘And what might they be?’

  ‘The Globe was made to heal sick nether-creatures. Sick – but living – nether-creatures. It was used by the demon lords to cure their armies, and it was coveted by all. As—’

  ‘I didn’t come here for a lecture on the history of—’

  ‘Be quiet, vampire,’ Hag hissed. ‘And you might learn something for once. Your spies here in the Netherworld do not know everything, oh no.’

  Lucien bowed his head. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘As you know,’ the sorceress continued, ‘if the Globe was used in conjunction with another ancient artefact – Skaleb’s Staff– it had another use: to bring the dead back to life. That is why Caliban sought it out and gave it to Gwendolin: to raise an army for him. A zombie army.’ A strange smile played at her lips. ‘He still aims to create such a thing.’ She paused, staring at him. ‘Many of the denizens of the Netherworld loathe the humans. They, like Caliban, would be happy to see the human race subjugated, but their numbers are too small for such a thing. The nether-creatures have never been large in number, and over the centuries war and infighting have thinned their ranks even more. If Caliban were to seriously try to attack the humans, he would need to enlist an army of some kind. Zombies are ideal for his needs. There is never a shortage of the dead to resurrect.’

  Lucien waited for her to continue, but Hag seemed content to sit and let him work things through in his head. ‘But if the Globe is useless now, he has no means to raise his army.’

  Hag’s eyes bored into Lucien’s.

  ‘Your brother – he seeks to bring Helde back.’

  Lucien stared at the old woman, hoping for any signal that she might be joking again. ‘Helde? But she is long dead. She was destroyed.’

  ‘Ah, but so were you, Lucien. So were you. Twice.’

  Lucien considered what he’d just been told. If Caliban could somehow find a way to bring Helde back, it would be a great triumph for him. She was an ancient being, who had been around at the time of the demon wars. Reputed to have been the most powerful sorceress of her time, she had an appetite for anarchy and chaos, and was particularly renowned for her ability to resurrect the dead, which earned her the title of Queen of the Dead. Lucien knew his brother would do anything in his power to bring such a creature back. Especially now that his own sorceress was gone.

  He looked across at Hag. ‘She was reduced to ash. How can she possibly be restored to life?’

  The fire spat. A small piece of burning matter leaped from the flames on to the stone grate where it glowed for a second before dying out.

  ‘How much do you know about Helde?’ Hag asked.

  ‘I know the stories of her exploits during the Demon Wars. How she had her captured enemies impaled on stakes and displayed outside her fortress. And how she resurrected these creatures once they had died so that they could suffer the same agonies all over again.’

  ‘And what of her death? What do you know of that?’

  ‘Very little. I know that she was found guilty of plotting to kill the demon lord Skaleb, and that she was sentenced to death by burning.’

  ‘So that she could never be brought back,’ Hag said with a nod. ‘Nothing can be brought back from ashes. Not even the Queen of the Dead, eh?’ She turned to look into the fire. ‘There is another version of the story of her death,’ she said. ‘In this version, Skaleb himself steps forward to the stake moments before the pyre is lit. He is said to have reached out and torn the sorceress’s heart from her chest and taken a huge bite from it before throwing it back at her feet.’ She looked at Lucien, her eyes taking in his own. ‘It is also said that the demon responsible for lighting the pyre stole that heart and kept it.’

  ‘And you believe that Caliban has found this heart, and that he will be able to use it to resurrect Helde?’

  The old woman shrugged. ‘I hear rumours about many things,’ she said. ‘When you are as old as I am –’ she smiled at him mischievously – ‘as we are, Lucien, nothing really surprises you any more.’ She shifted in her seat, manoeuvring herself to get up. She hissed in pain, but slapped away Lucien’s hands when he leaned forward and tried to help her. ‘Your brother is fighting a war on two fronts. He is engaged in a campaign to take over the Netherworld and, thanks to the spineless capitulation of many of this realm’s so-called leaders, he has almost succeeded in that. Did you know that after defeating Orfus your brother simply disappeared? He did not press home his advantage and continue on into Molok’s fiefdom. Instead, he just upped and vanished, and nobody has seen him since. Now, I wonder what can be so important to him that he would do such a thing?’ She paused for a moment. ‘Caliban’s other war front is in the human realm. He still looks to subjugate the humans, and for that he needs a sorceress like Helde.’

  Lucien remained silent for a moment, taking in everything that the old woman had told him. ‘He must be stopped,’ he said eventually.

  On her feet now, Hag was at the fire, prodding it with a long, heavy-looking poker. ‘Yes, he must. And so must she. It would not do to have her regain power.’

  The old woman turned her back to the fire, and studied the vampire carefully.

  ‘Does the sun still burn you?’ she asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The sun. Does it still burn you?’

  The change in subject, coupled with the bizarre nature of the question, took Lucien by surprise. He shook his head, deep frown lines creasing his forehead as he looked back at her. He sighed. ‘What are you talking about, old woman?’

  ‘It’s a simple enough question. Does the—’

  ‘Yes, of course it does. Why?’ He wanted to get back to the subject of Caliban, and how they should go about finding him.

  ‘Have you tried to go into the sun since your recent … resurrection?’

  ‘And why would I do such a thing?’

  Hag raised her eyebrows as if considering. ‘You know that the original vampires were not killed by the sun in the human realm, don’t you?’

  ‘I have heard that, but—’

  She looked at him again, her expression unreadable. ‘Those first vampires were worshipped like gods by the ancient human civilizations. They were more powerful than any vampire that has existed since. But slowly their souls were destroyed by their lust for blood, and they were forced to become creatures of the night.’ She narrowed her eyes.

  Lucien stood up. ‘I have heard enough of th
is nonsense. If you will not help me to find my brother, I will—’

  ‘I did not say I would not help you,’ she said, stopping him. ‘But you have changed, Lucien. You are more powerful than you have ever been before. I can see it, even if you cannot … or will not.’

  Lucien waited, one eyebrow raised. ‘You said you would help?’

  ‘I will assist you in trying to stop your brother from unleashing Helde into this and the human world again, but I have no idea where he is. I will make some enquiries. I suggest you do the same.’ She stared at him, and again she had that strange look about her. ‘As to the other help you came here for, I doubt that my magic could do anything to help you any more, Lucien. You cannot hide from what you are forever, vampire. None of us can.’

  Lucien turned to leave. He was almost at the door when she called after him, ‘I understand you had some trouble with a Necrotroph recently. And that a friend of your daughter’s had to hide here in the Netherworld – under the protection of the Ashnon. Is that all resolved now?’

  There was something in the old woman’s tone that made Lucien turn to face her.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  The sorceress waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, no reason. Just an old woman being nosey.’

  Lucien stared at her, certain that she knew something that she was not telling him.

  ‘Yes, it was all resolved before I left the human realm to come here.’

  ‘Good, good.’ Hag turned her back on him and shuffled back over to the stove she had been working at when he arrived. ‘Shut the door on your way out. It gets terribly draughty in here.’

  11

  Alexa and the Ashnon approached the peak of the hill, crawling forward on their knees and elbows so that they would be able to peer down the gentle slope to Molok’s citadel without being spotted.

  Alexa pushed back the hood of the cloak that she wore and looked across at the fortress, noting the guarded fortifications dotted around the place. But it was the entrance that caught and held her attention, thronged as it was with a great gathering of nether-creatures. The Maug guards were just about maintaining order, stopping and conducting a brief search of each creature before allowing it to advance towards what appeared to be a giant turnstile, not dissimilar to those that she had seen at football grounds in the human realm. A huge demon with a head like a boar stood before the revolving mechanism, demanding that anyone wishing to enter the gate first show it a ticket.