A low keening came from the granite walls. Here and there a shriek sounded far, far off.
Tamara shuddered. She did not trust the bat-woman and she wished there were some way to set the suffering souls imprisoned within the walls free. Perhaps Evann-Sin could think of a way if—and when—he came to rescue her.
* * * * *
Lilit was infuriated. No matter where she flew, no matter where she looked, none of her offspring had survived the battle. Ashes of those she had created floated about the war-torn lands and heaps of bones were still smoldering, left in the field to join the rest of the ash. Her temple at Bandor had been demolished and garlic planted in a circle around the ruins. Adding insult to injury, the peasants now wore silver images of the Slain One or had strung garlic bulbs to wear around their enticing necks. Not one unprotected neck could be found and the Queen of the Daughters of the Night raged with helpless fury.
Back she flew to the Abyss, stopping only long enough to gather a net of moths as a treat for her remaining Daughters. Until the boy-child drew breath outside his mother’s womb, there would be no one to turn except…
“Tamara,” Lilit whispered, and her fangs flashed.
Thoughts of the blood of the young woman made Lilit’s mouth water. She circled her lips with her pointed tongue, already tasting the salty flavor of that innocence. There would be time to go after the warrior and to bring him to heel.
“But your day will come, Evann-Sin,” Lilit cackled as she swiped a tasty moth from the net, crunching its musty body between her teeth. “And you will rue the day you ever tangled with me!”
* * * * *
They were only a few leagues from their destination when Cainer Cree attempted contact. The warrior had done as the Reaper had instructed and had tasted Tamara’s blood on the kerchief. Almost immediately, he sniffed the air and proclaimed he knew exactly where his lady was being kept.
“It lies in that quadrant,” Evann-Sin said, reaching over Cainer’s shoulder to point at a place on the star map.
The Reaper put his hand on the screen and closed his eyes. Within a matter of seconds, a slow smile stretched his expressive mouth. “It is called Sheol,” he said.
“You have found her?” Evann-Sin asked anxiously.
“Nay, but I have found someone to help us.”
“Who?”
“One of Lilit’s underlings,” the Reaper announced. “One who fancies the title of queen for herself.”
“You trust her?”
“Nay, I do not, and when we leave Sheol, she will leave, too, but there is no reason to let her know that now.”
“Why am I hearing screams and moans of great pain, Reaper?” Evann-Sin asked.
“Because the walls of Sheol are alive,
Reaper
,” Cainer replied, stressing the last word. He took his hand off the screen.
“Don’t remind me,” the warrior mumbled.
“The Lost Ones call to you to help them, and that is what you are hearing. I hear it, too.”
“And we will help them,” Evann-Sin stated.
“Aye, that we will. Now, think of your lady and try to garner her thoughts,” Cainer commanded.
Evann-Sin placed his hand where the Reaper had put his and closed his eyes, trying to blot out the anguished sounds attempting to intrude on his thoughts.
“I’m not getting anything.”
“Speak her name and she will hear you,” Cainer suggested.
“Tamara,” Evann-Sin whispered. He was silent for a moment then removed his hand. “I am not hearing her.”
“Concentrate, boy!” the Reaper ordered. “If you want it bad enough, you’ll be able to contact her.”
Once more Evann-Sin put his hand upon the screen. The concentration showed on his handsome face for his forehead was puckered, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, his lips pressed firmly together. His head was tilted to one side as he listened then all of a sudden his eyes snapped open—he had heard her!
Riel!
“I heard her!” he yelled. “Reaper, I heard her!”
“Tell her we are coming and to be brave. Warn her not to allow Lilit near her.”
As the warrior silently communicated with his lady, the Reaper put the ship on autopilot and got up from the console chair. They were very close to Sheol and the end of their journey together, but there was a more pressing item on the agenda for Cainer Cree.
Aisling’s E.S.U. readout had slowly fallen until there was only one click left on the monitoring screen. Her breathing—though very widely spaced when he had first brought her on board—was now even and smooth, natural. She was waking slowly from her enforced slumber and already her flawless complexion was returning to its natural shade of ivory instead of the stark white of cryogenic sleep. There was color to her fingertips once more and now and again her eyelids fluttered as she came up out of the REM sleep that had claimed her for so long. Soon, those beautiful eyes would open and look into his.
“Are we stationary?” Evann-Sin asked, coming over to the unit.
“Until Aisling wakes, aye,” the Reaper replied.
Impatient to be reunited with his own lady, the warrior could well understand Cainer’s feelings. Though he chomped at being made to wait even a second longer than necessary to rescue Tamara, he held his frustration in check.
“I’ll not allow you to lose your lady, Riel,” the Reaper said quietly. “Give me a moment to kiss her good morn, and you will have my sword hand at your side.”
There was a pleasant ping as the last click on the monitoring screen disappeared. Closely following the sound was a light hiss of air as the seal broke on the E.S.U.
With his hands shaking, Cainer pushed the glass lid up and clicked it in place. He lowered his hands, hooked his fingers over the rim of the unit and stared unblinkingly at his lady’s face, waiting for her to wake.
* * * * *
Lilit barely noticed the strange-looking bird she flew swiftly past. She had only a sense of its sleek blackness but was so enraged, even the sight of a mysterious bird in her kingdom barely registered. Her thoughts were dark, seared with a burning desire to punish Tamara for all that had been lost. Not a one of the helpless moths had survived the journey to the Abyss for the queen had reveled in crunching the little creatures and listening to their screams of agony.
Neither Amenirdis nor Hekat was waiting for her return and this slight further angered Lilit. She cursed her offspring, and shouted for them though still they were absent from her homecoming.
Her midnight steed landed with a jolt upon the ground, adding to the fury that had claimed the queen. Throwing her leg over its head, she slid to the ground then kicked the hell-steed.
Neighing its own anger, the horse leapt into the air, its wide wingspan fanning the dull, rancid air as it vanished around the side of the mountain.
“Amenirdis! Hekat!” Lilit screamed, but received no answer.
Digging her long fingernails into her palms, the queen strode heavily into her fortress. So furious was she, her shoulders were hunched, her backbone was rigid and her eyes were narrowed into thin, lethal slits.
“Amenirdis! Hekat!” she yelled once more, and became livid that no one rushed to meet her.
Tamara jumped as the door to her room was thrown open and she looked around to see Lilit framed in the doorway.
“Where are those two ungrateful cunts?” Lilit demanded, looking around Tamara’s room as though expecting to find her missing servants hiding there.
“How would I know?” Tamara replied. Her hands were behind her back as she sat on her bed.
Lilit advanced into the room. “Do not dare speak to me with such disrespect, Traitor!”
There was a wild bloodlust in the queen’s eyes, and as she spoke, her fangs were elongating, dripping with reddish-green saliva that sizzled as it hit the stone floor. Hands curled into claws with vermillion-tipped nails that were wickedly sharp, she came at Tamara. The rush of the queen’s black silk clothing rustled like dry bones as she moved, and all around them the walls cried out in distress.
But Tamara did not appear concerned that the Queen of the Hell Hags was descending on her. She waited until Lilit was but a few feet away then removed her hands from her back. She opened her palm.
Lilit came up short, staring in horror at the object lying on the young woman’s palm. Throwing up an arm to shield her face, the queen stumbled back, making an “argh” sound as she did.
Tamara got up from the bed and walked toward the queen. “Don’t you want to punish me for those you lost, Your Majesty?” she cooed softly, and plucked the object from her palm to hold it up.
Another strangled cry choked from Lilit’s crimson mouth, and she hissed as she moved back, away from the threat that was coming slowly toward her.
It was but a braid of her own hair, sheared away from her other tresses with a chunk of sharp rock. But it had been embedded with words that were anathema to the queen—indeed, to all evil ones—and Lilit was powerless against it.
One long braid that had been looped over at the top one inch, at the bottom five inches, and the remaining length bent to form arms then wound crisscross around the middle section to form a silken cross—the Sign of the Slain One.
“Get that thing away from me!” Lilit spat. She was backing away, hunched over like the ancient crone she was.
* * * * *
Evann-Sin knew he should not intrude upon the reunion of the Reaper and his ladylove so he quietly walked to the lone table and chair and sat down.
“They will both age before our eyes, warrior,” Cainer said, gaining Evann-Sin’s gaze. “They will wither and die, and we will be left alone to mourn their loss still again.”
The warrior frowned. “I had not thought of that.” He felt a lurch in the region of his heart and shook his head. “By the gods, I had not thought of that.”
“I will ask her permission, of course,” Cainer said softly, and sucked in a breath as he watched Aisling’s chest rise higher than it had before and then sink slowly. “But I intend to make her One with Us.”
“And if she doesn’t want that?”
“I refuse to even entertain such a notion, warrior. I am a greedy man and in this, I will have my way whether she wants it or not.”
“Even though you obsess about the lone woman you made a Reaperess?”
“Even so,” Cainer agreed, and then was still as death as his lady opened her lovely sea-green eyes and her luscious lips smiled at him.
“Aisling,” the Reaper sighed, and bent over to take her into his arms.
“I think I’ll use that teleport thing we fixed and take a stroll down in Sheol,” Evann-Sin remarked as he plucked an ancient weapon from the horde the Mage had left there for him. When the Reaper did not answer and seemed otherwise occupied, the warrior laughed and removed himself from The
Levant
.
* * * * *
“Get that thing away from me!” Lilit screeched again. She was almost out the door—hissing and clawing like a cat.
Beyond the Queen of the Hell Hags, Tamara could see her lover standing at the doorway but she was careful not to give away that knowledge. Though she saw the blade in his hand, watched him silently lifting it over his left shoulder, not even with a blink of her eye did she let on. And when the blade whistled through the air—gaining Lilit’s attention too late—Tamara never flinched as the sharp blade bit through the queen’s neck and severed her head from the rest of her.
The head rolled back into the room and came to rest against the toe of Tamara’s boot. Without a thought, the young woman kicked it into the corner and smiled as she heard the sigh of pleasure come from the wall.
“Where are the others?” Evann-Sin asked. He made no move to come into the room, though his eyes betrayed his need to take her into his arms.
“I don’t know but be careful, warrior. One proclaims to be our ally, but I have my doubts,” she answered.
“Stay here,” he ordered. “I’ll be back for you.”
“Oh, no!” she disagreed and ran after him. Already he was down the corridor, his sword pointed upward, both hands gripping the pommel.
“Don’t you ever listen?” he asked as he felt her hand on his shoulder blade.
“Do you have a dagger?” she countered. Even as she asked, she reached for the weapon strapped to his thigh.
Hekat came at him before Evann-Sin could thrust his sword into her leathery body. Enfolding him in her wings, she snapped at his face and neck, straining to sink her long fangs into his flesh. Though Tamara struck out at the bat-woman—stabbing her repeatedly in the back—the blade seemed to make no impression and with one flick of a heavy wing, Hekat sent the young woman reeling against the wall.
It was an equal-sided fight with both combatants of like strength. Hekat was fierce as she sought to rip off the warrior’s head and he was equally as brutal as he ripped first one, then the other wing from her body.
Tamara put her hands over her ears at the unearthly shriek of agony that came from the bat-woman’s de-winging. The sound reverberated through the walls and down the long, dark corridors but it was accompanied by ghostly applause and sighs of contentment from the Lost Ones.
He butted the fiend with his head. Wingless—and now essentially without a way to grip her opponent—she wrapped her legs around his hips and continued to nip at his neck.