Chained By Fear: 2 (4 page)

Magena’s heart imploded. She turned to Takoda and saw only misery. Rage boiled inside her, growing stronger and more dangerous with each passing moment.

The Mogol leader was a span taller than Akando. Magena had never seen anyone so heavily muscled. But something about him did not look quite human. His skin was too oily and his teeth too sharp.

“
Porisāda
!” Takoda said.

The word meant man-eater. These Mogols were the most dangerous of their kind. They not only raided other tribes, they cannibalized them. The Ropakans feared the Porisādas more than any creatures that roamed the Mahaggata Mountains, other than the occasional dragon.

“Akando, my brother
 . . .
” said Takoda, his voice wavering. “Why did you lead these fiends through our gates?”

Akando continued to smile, but his eyes were dull, and his arms hung limply. With a strange feeling of relief, Magena realized her uncle had not committed this treason voluntarily. Another force was at work that was greater than any Mogol.

The Porisāda sneered at Takoda. “Be still, old man,” he said in the common tongue. “You lack your brother’s wisdom. For his cooperation he will be greatly rewarded in this lifetime and the next.”

“As will I,” said Kuruk, still nursing his grotesquely bent elbow.

“Yes, Kuruk will be rewarded,” the leader said. To Magena, it felt as if he were hungrily eyeing the Ropakan’s thick torso. “He’ll be the
first
to be rewarded.”

But Kuruk didn’t recognize his peril. He was too caught up in his own pride. “Akando and I are allowed to choose one among you to be our slave,” he boasted. “I don’t know, or care, who Akando favors, but my choice is clear. Magena is mine!”

A moment later, Kuruk’s own knife left Takoda’s hand, thrown with a rage that Magena had never before seen in her father. Three finger-lengths of blade dug into the traitor’s chest, piercing his foul heart and ending his life. Immediately after, a single arrow flew from the inner circle, striking one of the cannibals in the thigh.

The Porisādas rushed forward, launching poisoned darts with their blowguns. Men, women and even the children were slaughtered. Magena’s mother died before her eyes. Some of her sisters and brothers also fell. Either by luck or design, none of the black-feathered darts struck her. But Takoda was pierced many times. Still, he managed to lurch forward and wrap his fingers around the throat of the leader.

Magena chased after him, but she was too late, watching in horror as the cannibal placed his immense hands on Takoda’s head and squeezed. Her peace-loving father was no match for such a monster. His skull cracked.

The sight of Takoda’s gruesome death freed Akando from whatever spell had been cast upon him. He yanked a dagger from the cannibal’s breechcloth and drove it between his ribs. The Porisāda howled but was not mortally wounded. He swept his arm against Akando’s face and knocked the smaller man off his feet. The act of bravery finally shook Magena out of a state of shock. It was time for her to fight. She leapt over her father’s fallen body and pounced upon the leader’s chest, pressing her face so close to his she could smell his rancid breath.

“
Namuci
,” she whispered.

The Porisāda flung Magena away, but his doom was sealed. His head snapped back, and he crumpled to the ground, vomiting blood. Soon after, his writhing stopped.

Magena loomed over his corpse, the glow of her eyes as bright as the Ripe Corn Moon, which at that moment was setting over the northwestern peaks. She raised her head slowly and scanned the plaza. Akando was dazed but otherwise unhurt. The rest of the Porisādas stood still as statues, watching her with a kind of awe. She continued to study her surroundings, trying to determine the scale of the carnage. What she saw wrenched her heart. Most of her people were dead. Several women and children remained standing, but the darts had slain all of the men, including her brothers and many other relatives. She remembered Takoda once telling her the cannibals used poison to tenderize the flesh of their victims and prevent the bodies from spoiling.

“I’m sorry, white princess,” she heard Akando saying. “The demon put a spell on me, and I could not resist her biddings. I’m weak and shameful. The Great Spirit will not allow me to join our fallen warriors in their place of glory. Instead, I will wander with Kuruk among the cowards.”

“Demon?” Magena said, still in a state of shock. “Where?”

“Here
 . . .
my darling.” An elderly woman emerged from the darkness. Her hair was long and gray, and her eyes glowed magically like Magena’s. But the similarity between their eyes ended there. The old woman’s irises were black instead of blue-gray.

The Porisādas bowed.

“You must say the word, again,” Akando said urgently. “Don’t be concerned with us. We’re already lost. Only you can avenge us.”

“But the others
 . . .
”

“Would you rather they become slaves—or worse?”

The demon, meanwhile, had approached within five paces, and she listened to their conversation with amusement. “Do you know who I am?” she said to Magena in fluent Ropakan.

“You’re a monster and a murderer. But you’ll pay for what you’ve done.”

“
You
will make me pay? Child, I am Vedana, mother of all demons.” Then she smirked in a way that Magena found hideous. “Besides, you would hurt your own grandmother?”

“What?” Magena mumbled.

“Say the word, before she puts a spell on you!” Akando said.

Vedana glared at Akando. “Your usefulness is finished.” The demon raised her fists in the air and cracked them together. A crimson tendril of lightning leapt from her hands and struck Akando in the chest. His torso burst into flames.

“No!” Magena cried, leaping toward her uncle, but she could do nothing but watch him die.

“Kill them all,” the demon said in the common tongue. “Except for the girl.”

In a flurry of movement that took only seconds, the cannibals launched more darts. It happened so fast Magena was helpless to protect her people. Soon the rest were dead. The screaming ended almost as quickly as it started.

Two Porisādas grabbed Magena by the arms, but she barely noticed. Everyone she cared about had perished. Rage consumed her consciousness. “
Namuci
!” she screamed, with all the strength she could muster. “
Naaaamuuuuciiii
!”

“Run, you fools,” Vedana shouted at the Porisādas. “You know naught your peril!”

But it was too late. An army of
efrits
had been unleashed. The cannibals screamed, fell and bled. In just a few moments the
Porisādas
were no more.

Only two women remained standing, death and destruction surrounding them.

Vedana and Magena.

The demon and the sorceress.

They stared into each other’s eyes, daring the other to make the first move.

Finally, the demon cackled. “Your powers are impressive, Laylah. But I’ll have to insist that you never do that again. My little babies are like bees. Once they sting, they die. And there are only so many left. They’re too valuable to be used with such recklessness.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Magena said. “And why do you call me Laylah? That is not my name, foul wench.”

“Come, Laylah,” the demon purred, circling her adversary. “Surely you haven’t forgotten your
real
name. You were ten years old when your father—
my
son—was murdered. You were no baby. I’m sure you remember that day as if it were yesterday.”

“You rave. My father was your son? The filth between his toes was sweeter than you. You are despicable. But your time has ended. I will destroy you.”

Vedana cackled. “Before you
destroy
me, wouldn’t you like to know why I’ve gone to all this trouble?” The demon circled ever closer, her movements hypnotic. “Do you think the tiresome squabbles between Mogols and Ropakans interest me?”

“Monsters need no justification. They take pleasure in torment and suffering. But enough talk. Come no closer!”

Now just a step away, Vedana stopped and faced Magena. She wore robes made of cloth as translucent as her flesh. Magena could see the demon’s internal organs wriggling like a ball of snakes.

“Who taught you the word that you used to destroy the
Porisādas
?” Vedana said.

Magena didn’t answer. Instead, her fists clenched and unclenched while her golden hair swirled in the breeze.

“Never mind, you don’t have to tell me. Your brother was such a naughty boy. Can you believe that I had no idea he was visiting you all those nights? Vedana, mother of all demons, fooled by a child. Vedana, who has existed for a thousand centuries, deceiving kings, seducing warriors, defeating wizards, conjurers and necromancers. Yet, this
boy
was able to trick me. He made me sleep, though I knew it naught, and then flew to see you on the back of a dracool. I would have forbidden it. But would that have stopped him? And then, he had the gall to teach you some of
my
magic
 . . .
”

“Why
are
you here?” Magena said. “Even if I believed your lies, I wouldn’t rush to you with open arms. Look at what you’ve done. These people were my family. My father is dead at my feet.”

“Your father has been dead for more than eight years,” Vedana said. “And your people—your
real
people—are now your brother’s slaves. But I’m glad to have piqued your curiosity. Perhaps you’ll listen to me before you
destroy
me. To answer your question, I’m here because Invictus is as much my enemy as yours.” Then Vedana looked around, suddenly paranoid. Her voice fell to almost a whisper. “Do you know that he searches for you? That he’s obsessed with you? He’s close, Laylah. Very close. Do you wish to become his prisoner? Once he captures you, there will be no escape.”

“If any of this is true, why didn’t you just come and talk to me about it? Why kill these innocent people?”

“I care naught for people, innocent or otherwise. Their lives are short and pitiful, swallowed by the vastness of time. If ‘people’ are in my way, I remove them. What does it matter? They will skitter on to their next existences—and the next and the next and the next—always blind, always ignorant. But you’re different, Laylah. Demon blood rages through your veins. With me as your teacher, you might one day become strong enough to face your brother and avenge your
real
father’s death. There was demon blood in his veins, too. But compared to you and your brother, he was a weakling.”

Vedana beckoned with her hand. “Will you not come with me? These humans were chattel, doomed to die. Whether today, or a few puny decades from now, what difference? Don’t waste your energy on sadness or regret. You’re the granddaughter of Vedana. You have the potential for
greatness
. I can teach you how to achieve it.”

“If achieving greatness means forsaking the ones I love, I’d rather die now and be done with it.”

The demon cackled again. “That could be arranged. But not yet
 . . .
not just yet.”

Suddenly Vedana was just a finger-length away, her face a mask of rage. Gray smoke gushed from her swollen nostrils. “
Niddaayahi
!” the demon said.

Magena felt darkness press against her consciousness. She lashed out with a blast of power, lifting several bodies into the air, including Takoda’s.

But Vedana was not harmed. Her cackles filled the valley. Magena struck again and again, but she could not see and could not feel. The foul smoke found its way into her lungs, into her blood, into her heart.

“I’m sorry, father,” Magena mumbled. “I’ve failed you. I’ve failed everyone.”

But whether she actually said it—or just dreamed that she said it—was beyond her awareness. She also wasn’t sure to which father she spoke. Perhaps it was both.

When she woke, Magena was no longer.

For better or worse, she was Laylah.

The little girl on the swing.

In love with the night.