Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (12 page)

Laylah heard Torg sobbing.

The sound shattered her trance. The wizard stood in the middle of the room, arms at his side, the Silver Sword at his feet. The goo was creeping over the top of his high boots. But that wasn’t right. Rather, her beloved was sinking into it like quicksand. At that moment, Laylah realized she was their only hope. For the first time in her life, there was no one else to depend on—not her parents, or Takoda, or even Lucius. Her beloved’s life hung in the balance, and hers, as well, for when the wizard was destroyed, she would be next.

She held Obhasa aloft, squeezed it with all her strength, and willed whatever magic she contained into its ivory shaft. Blue energy laced with white leapt upward in a concentrated beam, blasting through the ceiling of the chamber and several floors of wooden building before erupting into the sky. Such an expenditure of power felt exhilarating, but Laylah’s rapture soon diminished. Other than a hole in its immense flesh, the
Mahanta pEpa
was unharmed. She lashed out again and again, but failed to do any serious damage. Meanwhile, Torg had sunk to his knees, his head bowed to his chest.

She ran to him, faced him—now taller than he—and shook him. Slapped him. Struck him. All to no avail. The creature held him in its psychic embrace and was slowly attempting to digest his body. As if resigned to his fate, Torg did not resist. Even the Silver Sword had disappeared from view.

Laylah couldn’t let him go, not like this, not ever. She dropped Obhasa and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him, kissing him, begging him to awaken. She pressed herself against him, wrapped her legs around him, clawed at his back like an animal. Still he did not react
 . . .

. . . but,
she
reacted. A glowing warmth seemed to rise from her skin, and once again light flooded the room, only this time the illumination came from her own flesh, not from Obhasa’s magical ivory. Like a spark fallen upon dry grass, Laylah’s energy caused Torg to respond—involuntarily—to her release of power, and he too began to glow, his blue-green energy merging forcefully with her alabaster. Their magic fed off each other’s, growing brighter and hotter and more dangerous, and Laylah realized that whatever was about to happen had grown beyond her control, not that she had any desire to stop it. Instead, the intensity of it filled her with bliss, as if the two of them were making love on a plane higher than a physical one.

Laylah remembered the words Torg had spoken in their room at the inn when she had attempted to seduce him.

“
You
won’t be harmed, perhaps, but half of Duccarita will end up in flames.”

Could it be?

By now, Torg had sunk halfway up his thighs. His head remained bowed, but his body had tensed, and his back had arched. Heat emanated from his flesh, along with a blue-green glow. The hair on his head stood straight up, his hands drew into fists, and his chest expanded and contracted in a series of rapid convulsions. Her own body performed similar histrionics. Her brow oozed sweat. Her heart raced. Her body became consumed in luscious warmth.

It built and built and built
 . . .

Suddenly, a cacophony of power erupted from both of them. Blue-green energy—laced with white—blared out in waves, radiating in all directions. Laylah cried out and was thrown back a hundred paces, and though her clothes were consumed, she was not injured. The wizard’s chaotic magic speared through her like stones through water, piercing her but causing no harm. Obhasa and the Silver Sword also were undamaged.

But everything else within a thousand cubits, including the
Mahanta pEpa
, was incinerated.

When the smoke cleared, they strode toward each other through the rubble. Even as they embraced, the sun rose above the eastern wall of Duccarita, casting an explosion of yellow light upon the smoldering remains of the destruction.

WHEN BONNY told them it was time to go, Lucius jumped up quickly. But Ugga remained in his chair, his eyes closed and body frozen.

“Get up, ya booger!” Bard said impatiently. “Didn’t ya hear Missus Bonny?”

Ugga opened his eyes. “But I has only counted fifty breaths,” the crossbreed said, clearly puzzled. “Master Hah-nah said to count to sixty.”

“For Anna’s sake!” Rathburt said. “Would you jump off a cliff if he told you to?”

Ugga considered that for a moment. “Master Hah-nah would have a good reason, I supposes.”

“Arrrggghhh!”

Lucius went to his room to get his
uttara
and war club. When he returned to the parlor, the others were waiting: Ugga with his axe, Bard his bow and arrows and a pair of daggers, Rathburt his staff, and Elu his Tugarian dagger. Bonny, looking as luscious as ever, returned with a steel cutlass in a leather scabbard at her waist and a dagger strapped to each muscular calf.

“The more dangerous you look, the more you will fit in,” Bonny said. “While it’s still dark, we’ll need to move quick and quiet. The monsters are active until dawn. But they’ll think twice before attacking our bunch, especially with him around.”

She motioned toward Ugga, who smiled proudly.

“He does make ya feel safe,” Bard agreed.

“Elu loves Ugga too.”

“Let’s get moving,” Lucius said. “We might as well get this over with.”

“Yes, sir!” Bonny said, saluting. “I will do whatever you say, whenever you say it.”

With Lucius blushing, the pirate woman led them down the stairs into the common room. Half a dozen men remained by the hearth. A pair of them had fallen asleep, snoring in their chairs. The others huddled around a small table, smoking and drinking and playing a game of cards. They looked up with curiosity—their eyes opening especially wide when they saw Ugga—but quickly lowered their heads when Bonny gave them a threatening stare.

“I knows every one of ya, so ya’d better mind your manners while I is gone,” she said in the northern dialect to the ones who remained awake. “If there’s any trub-bull, I is going to get angry. And ya know what happens when I gets angry.”

“Yes, missus,” the largest of them mumbled.

Bonny led them through a side door into a wide alley and gathered her companions around her. “We have a long way to go,” she whispered, returning to the common tongue. “You need to do what I do, run when I run, hide when I hide.” Then she focused her attention on Lucius. “By the time we get to the slave pens, the sun will have risen. There will be lots of people around, so we’ll have to be careful.” She looked at the rest of them. “Are you ready?”

They nodded vigorously, except for Rathburt, who bore the expression of someone suffering from stomach cramps. “I can run and hide with the best of them,” he mumbled.

Elu snorted.

After that, Bonny turned to the left and hurried down the alleyway in a crouch, staying close to the wall. Soon she came to a wide street, lighted sporadically by torches. There was a tavern across the street that was larger and more active than Rakkhati’s establishment. Several dozen men stood outside the main door, unafraid because they were pressed together and heavily armed.

Strength in numbers
, Lucius thought.
Monsters rarely attack large groups, if they can help it. They prefer to sneak up on isolated prey
.

“We need to get by these guys, somehow,” Bonny said. “If they see us, they’ll want to know our business—and it’ll end up in a fight. I’m not saying we’d lose, but it’d cause too much of a ruckus.”

“We need a diversion,” Lucius said.

Bonny smiled. “Do you have any ideas?”

“Now that you mention it, I do.” What he whispered in her ear caused her to giggle.

A few moments later Bonny ran into the street, screaming like a banshee. Her blouse was unbuttoned, exposing her small breasts. Lucius thundered after her, grabbed her from behind and groped her in full view of the pirates.

“Where ya going, ya bitch!” he shouted. “I isn’t done with ya yet!” He flung her over his shoulder and trudged down the street while the men hooted and hollered approvingly. A hundred paces later, Lucius and Bonny ducked into a dark alley, joining their companions.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Bonny said after Lucius put her down. “Where I come from, they call that a freebie.”

“I had to make it look real.”

Rathburt rolled his eyes. “When you lovebirds are finished chatting, can we get on with it?”

Bonny gave Lucius a quick kiss on the lips before starting down the poorly lit street, which quickly grew darker and spookier. They passed row upon row of shabbily constructed wooden buildings. There appeared to be activity inside their walls, but no one dared to venture outside.

Lucius’ thoughts strayed to Laylah. He wondered where she was and how she was faring—and if he would ever see her again. Bonny must have sensed his distraction, because she grasped his arm and gave it a hard squeeze. Then she pointed down the road toward a particularly thick patch of darkness. At first Lucius saw nothing, but then he began to make out shapes lumbering toward them.

“Ghouls,” Bonny hissed. “We must not be seen. Follow me.”

Several large barrels, empty and splintered but large enough to provide cover, fronted one of the buildings. They crouched behind them and did their best to stay out of sight. The ghouls, at least twenty in all, marched down the middle of the street like a grotesque parade, their stench preceding them by a good distance.

As the ghouls passed their hiding place, Lucius saw that several of them were lugging a large, round body that appeared to be dead or unconscious. Lucius felt Bonny tense, and for a moment he feared she might leap up and attack. But the ghouls suddenly veered to the left and stumbled into an alleyway, carrying the body with them. Soon they were gone.

“
Bhiimadeha
! (Dreadful flesh!),” Bonny whispered. “How dare you murder the Daasa? I spit on all your kind.”

“It was a Daasa?” Lucius said. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Bonny said with irritation. “It was probably given to the ghouls as a gift by the slavers in return for performing some terrible deed. I’m glad you have come to Duccarita. It’s time we put an end to this, once and for all.”

“Is that what we’re going to do?” Rathburt said. “And here I thought we were just going out for a pleasant stroll through the scenic part of town.”

“Those ghoulies smell bad, but they don’t look so dangerous to me,” Ugga said, slapping the shaft of his axe against the palm of his hand. “Why are we hiding from them, Missus Bonny? They should be hiding from us.”

“The ghouls are more dangerous than they look,” Bonny said. “Even so, the less noise we make, the better. If we attract a crowd, that won’t be good.”

She continued down the roadway, finally stopping near the entrance of another alley. Lucius peered inside but could not see beyond its pitch-black maw.

“If we go this way, we’ll save lots of time,” Bonny said. “If we keep to the streets, we’ll have to go a long way around, and we might not make it before midmorning.”

“But
 . . .
?” Lucius said.

“But
 . . .
the alleys are dangerous at night. We’re almost sure to run into more ghouls. And vampires too. Sometimes there are even Mogols. If we’re real quiet—and real lucky—we might make it without a fight. But I wouldn’t bet on it.”

“If we take the long way, the odds are still high we’ll run into trouble?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Lucius turned to the others. “I don’t pretend to be your commander, but I vote we go through the alley. It sounds like any way we choose will be difficult, so the quicker the better, as far as I’m concerned.”

“That would be my choice too,” Bonny said.

The rest agreed, though Rathburt, as usual, added a snide remark. “My choice would be to return to the inn and sleep in our chairs by the fire. But no one ever listens to me.”

Bonny chuckled and then looked down at Elu. Her expression grew serious. “You look plenty strong to me, and I’m sure you can take care of yourself, but to the monsters, you will look like the easiest prey.”

“Elu understands. He will stay close to mighty Ugga.”

After that, they were forced to backtrack several dozen paces to find a torch that still had some life. Then they returned and entered the alley with Bonny in the lead. Lucius, Rathburt, Bard, Elu, and Ugga followed. Lucius held the war club in his left hand and
uttara
in his right. The club felt hot, as if just pulled from a fire. When he entered the corridor, it began to glow.

“You carry two great weapons,” Bonny whispered. “The club must have belonged to a Mogol chieftain. There is magic in it that is responding to something nearby. I’m not sure what, but it makes me nervous.”

“We’re all nervous,” Lucius said.

Even though it had no roof, the alley was claustrophobically narrow. Rusty nails and warped planks reached out like claws. The air stank of garbage, urine, and feces. Bonny held the torch and led them slowly forward. Instantly Lucius felt paranoid that something was going to pounce on his head from above, and he found himself looking up compulsively.

There were occasional tears in the walls—some at eye level or above, some low to the ground. From one of the low holes, a pale hand emerged and grasped Elu’s ankle, attempting to yank him inside. But the Svakaran was too quick, whipping the Tugarian dagger downward and cutting the arm in two near the wrist. After a snarling yelp, the bloodied stub withdrew, leaving the severed hand behind, its fingers still wriggling.

“Good going, little guy,” Ugga said, squashing the hand with a large booted foot. “They’ll think twice before grabbing for ya again.”

Lucius was impressed too. The Tugarian dagger had cut through the bone of the arm like a scythe through grass. It appeared they all carried formidable weapons.

They came to a crossroads where several alleys intersected. Without hesitation, Bonny turned right. This alley opened onto another road, but here there were no torches, and the buildings that lined the street appeared deserted.

“This is a bad part of town,” she said.

“And everywhere else is so
nice
,” Rathburt said.

They continued down the street. Bonny led them into another alley, this time on the right. Again they were submerged in darkness, their sputtering torch providing scant relief. After they had walked about a hundred paces, Bonny halted and raised the torch.

“Do you hear something?”

“I don’t hear a thing,” Rathburt said. But then, without warning, he let out a yelp, and blue flame burst from his staff, spurting upward and illuminating the corridor.

Lucius turned and saw Ugga staring up at an enormous cave troll that had somehow managed to squeeze into the alley by scooting along sideways. Tendrils of drool hung from its bulbous lips, and its eyes were wild and angry. The troll swung a boulder-sized fist at the crossbreed’s head, but Ugga blocked the downward blow with his axe. The huge hand struck the edge of the blade and tore away from the wrist, flopping past Elu and knocking Rathburt off his feet. Black blood sprayed the walls. Ugga had little room to maneuver, but he managed to drive the upper point of the axe blade into the screaming creature’s chest, forcing the troll backward. Quick as a fox, Elu leapt forward and stabbed the troll in the knee with his dagger, piercing the thick sinew. The troll trumpeted like an elephant and fell onto its side.