by W. C. Conner
Aimee’s smile broke like golden sun through a cloudy sky. “Mommy?” she said.
“Yes, sweetie,” Wil replied softly as he held her close and kissed her cheek, “your mommy.”
As he held her thus, the avatar’s plea came to him, “Caron, if you can hear me, I need your help.”
Wil sat down at Caron’s place with Aimee on his lap and wrapped his arm around her as if by doing so he could protect the woman he loved – the woman who, because of her love for him, faced the terrible danger of a demoness many thousands of years old.
Strength, my love, he sent futilely, his head pounding with the stress of it. Believe in us.
48
Plaisir sat cross-legged at the center of Caron’s bed, idly stroking her mind with erotic feelings. She had gotten used to his sensuous touch and it no longer bothered her as it once had. She accepted it as the only way he knew to express his caring and she welcomed it.
Caron was leaning against the frame of the window, looking through the uneven glass to the courtyard below. She had received the avatar’s plea just a few moments before and was considering how to respond when a faint echo tickled her mind. “Believe in us.”
She straightened and looked to Plaisir to see if there was any reaction from him to the message, but he sat quietly now, apparently communing with his brothers.
Wil, she practically shouted within her mind, I hear you. Can you hear me? Plaisir looked to her at the outburst of thought, but did not react otherwise.
In the cottage, Wil leaned his face against Aimee’s dark hair and let the tears of fatigue and relief flow, knowing he had gotten even that short thought through to Caron.
Aimee’s little hand reached up and she patted his cheek. “Don’t cry, Daddy,” she said. “Don’t cry.”
Wil stroked Aimee’s head to let her know he was okay, while in Styxis’s Blackstone, Plaisir looked up suddenly. The baby is under attack, he sent to Caron. Gulak will have her any moment now. I must go. As he communicated, he got down from the bed and crossed quickly to where Caron stood next to the window. He stopped beside her and looked into her dark eyes.
He hesitated a moment, then reached out and touched her cheek softly, but this was not the sensual touch with which he had titillated her before. It was a touch of caring. We believe we know now what this “love” you speak of is, he sent. If we should not meet again, Caron, thank you for all you have shown us.
His wings began to appear, unfolding from his back as he pushed the window outward on its hinges. He paused as he stepped onto the sill. Your wizard will be in the fortress shortly. You should go to him for he will need your help.
With that, he plunged from the window. She watched as his wings stretched out and, with a few broad sweeps, he was lifted into the air. Caron felt a long moment of pity for herself and envy for Plaisir’s ability to escape this place so easily, to fly high in the sky, carried on the wind into the pale light of a sunset beyond the ugliness and hatred below. In the sky she could see the red glow from the magic as it revealed the circular building somewhere outside the walls of the fortress.
I am at the gates of Blackstone, Caron, came the avatar’s thought to her less than half an hour later. There was an uncharacteristic resignation in the message that alarmed her.
There are footsteps approaching my room in the hallway, she returned. I am certain we will be seeing one another very soon, now. She reached down and smoothed her skirt, then fussed briefly with her hair as if in preparation for meeting a suitor come to call on her.
The footsteps stopped at the doorway. Without knocking or announcing themselves, three guards entered the room and signaled to her to join them. Caron straightened up and threw her shoulders back as if in defiance of the confrontation to come. “Lead the way,” she said.
Wil was already standing before Styxis when Caron entered the large hall. The demoness did not even acknowledge Caron’s entrance with her eyes, merely signaling to the guards with her hand to bring Caron before her.
“I have won, elf witch,” she said quietly as Caron stopped before her. Caron said nothing, but watched Styxis’s face closely, looking only briefly at Wil.
“Tell the elf witch what you told me, wizard,” Styxis said, now more strident as she sensed victory.
Wil looked toward Caron. “I have made an agreement with the one who will fulfill my desires,” he said. There was no hint of coercion, no unwillingness in his tone. In fact, there was an eagerness in his expression that surprised Caron. “In return for her removal of the darkness from our world and your safe passage back, I will remain here as her consort forever.”
Caron looked at him in disbelief. She knew he had come to bargain, but with his own life? And then realization dawned: It wasn’t his life he was giving up, it was Allen’s. “Wil, I... you…” she stammered. “You can’t do this. You can’t sacrifice...”
“I will do whatever I wish to do, Caron,” he interrupted sharply. “I am Styxis’s now, not yours. I belonged to Styxis from the first moment I saw her face and heard her name.”
Caron looked up to find Styxis watching her eyes intensely, searching for any lies, any indications that her reactions were not genuine. Wil had told her he had been captured by Styxis when she invaded Caron’s mind at the crossroads. Now Wil’s lust for Styxis which dwelt within the avatar was sacrificing Allen’s body and trust to fulfill his infatuation with the demoness. Styxis smiled in triumph as the horror in Caron’s eyes screamed more loudly than the avatar’s words that his submission to her was the truth.
The doors to the hall opened suddenly to admit a messenger who hurried forward at Styxis’s summons. He knelt before her with his head down.
“The baby has been taken by Gulak, mistress,” he said.
Caron waited for the explosion of anger, of fear, of outrage, but none was forthcoming. Styxis smiled lazily. “What do I care?” she said coldly. “It is only one.” She looked down from the dais at Wil who stared up at her with undisguised lust in his eyes. “I no longer need it to hold my wizard. We will make another.” Her lip curled derisively as her eyes turned to Caron, “…and this one will be all mine.”
“Wil,” Caron said, shocked by the callousness of the demon, “you cannot truly want this monster.”
“With all that I am,” he replied without removing his eyes from the demoness, “I desire this woman.”
“Come, wizard,” Styxis purred. “Touch me for the first time in pleasure.”
Wil stirred slightly and his hand started to reach for her, but immediately snapped back to his side. “I will not pleasure you until I am assured that the elf witch is safely on her side of the boundary and the boundary is closed forever,” he responded. “Once that is accomplished, all that I am or ever will be is yours forever.”
Caron realized Styxis was breathing heavily, consumed by her desire for the wizard who she believed would be able to touch her, to stroke her, to pleasure her, to give her another child to replace the one stolen by Gulak. Styxis believed she would have all these things that she had never experienced before in her long, long life.
Caron cleared her throat to gain the demoness’ attention. “I would leave as soon as possible,” she said resolutely.
She was angry now at Wil. Believe in us, he had said. Trust me, he had told her. In return for her belief and trust, he was about to sacrifice the gentle young wizard, Allen, to the revenge Styxis would exact when she learned of the fraud.
“Wil,” she said quietly as she turned to leave the hall, “my heart misgives me at what you are about to do.” She looked back one last time with the tears starting down her cheeks to see the look of triumph on Styxis’s face; the look of lustful worship in the avatar’s eyes. Once again, she squared her shoulders against what she must do and strode from the hall.
Arrived in the passageway outside the hall, she found Plaisir awaiting her. Overcome with frustration and hurt and grief, she wrapped her arms gently around his back and with her head against his shoul
der, she sobbed uncontrollably. Not quite understanding what it was he was faced with, he patted her back self-consciously. The sensuous stroking he would normally have done seemed somehow out of place to him, so he did what she had done; he put his arms softly around her and held her as she cried.
After a bit, she collected herself. Can you take me to the boundary, Plaisir? she sent. I need to get to the boundary as quickly as possible, and I would find pleasure in flying with you one more time before I return to my own world.
Without hesitation the thought came back to her, I would fly with you to the ends of the world, Caron. After just a moment, he continued, an amused feeling to his thought, Actually, in a way, I suppose I will be flying you to the ends of the world.
Caron’s heart skipped several beats at the sickening drop as Plaisir leaped from the wall of Blackstone, then soared as his wings spread and caught the air to lift them. The erotic sense of his powerful muscles pushing them into the sky along with the constant background of his sensuous stroking of her mind brought the warmth back to her stomach and loins that she had experienced involuntarily on the way toward Blackstone. This time she did not resist it but opened her senses to it.
Looking down at the ground passing slowly below them with the wind rushing through her hair and over her body, she relaxed and let Plaisir work his magic as she tried to block from her mind the betrayal she felt.
49
Thisbe and Angela sat side by side next to the fire that was kept burning night and day in the little encampment opposite the glowing column. The two of them were laughing at the future prince’s reactions as Thisbe held Alexander on her lap, making faces at him. There had been no snow, but the temperatures had dropped and the nights were freezing cold with the days not much warmer. Everyone was heavily dressed against the cold air.
Across the road, Patrick sat before his own fire, bundled heavily in ill fitting clothing and blankets. He had been suffering badly from the cold before Angela had sent back to Wisdom for supplies for the wizard. When she had asked Thisbe if Patrick could use some of Tingle’s extra clothing, she had been met with an incredulous glare of refusal.
It was Mitchal who had volunteered his own heavy clothing upon hearing of her request. He would not be needing them while he lay healing at Three Oaks Inn and he didn’t hesitate a moment giving over his heavy clothing, even after he was told who it was that Angela sought it for.
“I’ll not be the source of that miserable wizard’s suffering,” he said. “Once upon a time, we were both whole and complete men. The fact that we’ve both been maimed, whether body or soul, does not mean I can be less of a man inside than I was before. He is a victim of Styxis’s evil as much as I am… perhaps more so for I still have my heart. Take him my clothes and may they help him survive for whatever awaits him.” He shot a playful smile at Tingle who sat across the common room from him. “Besides, my clothes will fit him far better than Tingle’s ever could. I don’t believe all his clothes together would fit that wizard’s bulky frame.”
As the weather had turned colder, Roland’s mood had gotten darker and darker by the day. “It’s been almost five weeks and we know nothing more than we did when they walked into that blasted tube,” he fumed.
“You yourself said we didn’t really expect to hear anything for a month or more, my lord,” Thisbe said. “I’m certain that if Caron could have gotten word back to you, she would.”
“I know,” Roland snapped back. “I just feel that there must be something I could do to help them.” He turned and called to a groom to saddle his horse. “I’m going to go kill something so we can have fresh meat tonight for a change,” he said. “Maybe that will help my mood.”
With that, he went to his tent and picked out a long lance which he carried over to where one groom worked to get the saddle placed and the girth tightened while another was fixing the clasps on the bridle straps. No sooner had they finished than Roland leaped into the saddle, grabbed the lance from the groom’s hand and spurred the horse forward. As he galloped away, the two soldiers who had been tasked with perimeter patrol duties broke into a gallop and joined him as he tore off into the wilderness to work off his tension.
Thisbe and Angela watched as the dirt and gravel kicked up by Roland’s horse sprayed across the encampment and landed in their laps. Young Alexander took a pea sized rock on the side of his cheek and immediately began howling his displeasure. Thisbe clutched him to her and rocked him while cooing soft, reassuring sounds into his ear to calm him down.
As Alexander’s protests subsided, they became aware of another howling, but this one was ghostly and was coming from across the road. From where Angela sat she could see Patrick clearly as his head came up at the noise, then turn toward the shimmering column at his back. Just as he rose and faced the column, the surface wobbled slightly and first one creature then another charged through and headed straight toward where Thisbe and Angela sat next to the fire. The one in the rear was obviously chasing the other. Patrick was knocked roughly to the ground by the first creature and was stepped on squarely by one huge foot of the much larger pursuing creature as it sprang past him.
Angela jumped up as she saw Patrick knocked flat, causing the creature in the lead to change direction slightly to avoid her as it headed toward them. She stumbled slightly as she scrambled to avoid the first creature which swept by her without hesitation.
Had it not been so focused on the creature it was chasing, the second creature would undoubtedly have killed Angela when it struck out at her as it ran past. As it was, it managed only a backhanded swipe at her before running off in the general direction that Roland had ridden only a few moments before.
The whole affair had lasted but a few seconds and Thisbe was still seated by the fire with Alexander cradled close to her by the time it registered that Angela had been hurt. At first she seemed to have taken no harm for she stood for several moments before falling forward onto the ground, revealing the slashes across her back which were already pumping a rich flow of bright red blood.
Thisbe shrieked involuntarily at the horror before her as Roland’s soldiers, who had watched mesmerized as the action played itself out before them, sprang to their aid. Angela laid quietly, only a low moan of pain escaping her lips. Thisbe dropped to the ground beside Angela and handed Alexander up to one of the soldiers who held him at arm’s length as if he were a dangerous reptile. Putting her face next to the stricken girl’s, she called loudly to her. “Can you hear me? Angela, can you hear me?” She was met only with another low moan.
No one noticed as Thisbe was attending to Angela that Patrick had rolled over and raised himself from where he had landed. He limped in obvious pain across the road to join the group huddled around Angela. Pushing firmly through the soldiers, he stopped beside Thisbe who looked up at him, a stricken expression on her face. He did not see her, however, for his eyes were fixed on the mortally injured girl.
Kneeling beside her, he placed one hand over her bleeding back while placing his other hand gently on the side of her face. He closed his eyes and was still for several moments while the group stared silently, seemingly almost forgetting to breathe as they watched.
At last, Angela took a deep breath and stirred herself. As she rolled over and sat up, Thisbe stared at the slashed clothing which was stained with blood still warm from the wounds which could no longer be seen. Shaking her head slightly as if in disbelief, she suddenly realized that Patrick’s jacket had become soaked with bright red blood itself and he knelt quietly, his eyes tightly shut as he worked to heal himself from within.
“Why did you do that?” Thisbe said in disbelief. “You belong to the demoness. You do not belong to us.”
From where he knelt on the ground, Patrick said between clenched teeth, “I am but returning a kindness. Nothing else has changed.”
As his strength returned, he got slowly to his feet and was starting to walk back to his post beside the glowing column when Angela stood up and took three q
uick strides to draw even with him. Placing her hand on his arm to slow him, she looked straight ahead so no one else would see her mouth or hear her words.
“I have felt that touch before,” she said quietly. “I owe you my life once again, Allen. I don’t know why you appear as you do, but you may be certain your secret is safe with me.” With a quick squeeze of her hand on his arm, Angela turned back toward the others as Patrick continued to his post.
“I thanked him for my life,” she said quietly at the question in their eyes. “I cannot imagine that you would do any less.”
Nobody said a word as she sat down and stared thoughtfully into the fire.
After just under an hour, the sound of horses could be heard coming slowly toward them from the direction in which the creatures had disappeared. Roland rode slightly ahead of the two soldiers who had accompanied him. As they came into view, those awaiting them saw that the soldiers dragged one of the creatures behind them by a rope tied around its ankles. There was no movement from the thing which had the broken shaft of Roland’s lance protruding from its chest.
“We tracked this horrifying creature while we were hunting,” Roland said as he dismounted. “We heard crashing through the brush and bracken shortly after we left here and followed it for miles. There was movement in the trees that appeared likely to be an elk or bear, so large was it, but when we rode toward the movement, this thing threw itself at us from a thicket of brambles. It was fortunate I had already set my lance or it would have taken me from my horse. As it is, I have a nasty bruise all down my right side from where the handle of the lance bashed my ribs when it shattered as the thing fell on it.”
“What happened to the other one?” Thisbe asked.
“Ah,” Roland said, turning to the two soldiers, “there was a second one after all.”
