Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles (46 page)

“It was not my intention to best you—but to join you. Enough of bickering and jealousy. It is beneath you. If we are to prevail, you and I must stand as one—our combined strength against the strength of the enemy. Anything less would make us fools.”

“You are wise in most ways, Torgon, but not in the ways of the heart,” Rajinii said. “Unrequited love is a painful burden.” Then she stood and fled the room.

Manta glanced at Torg before following the queen.

Afterward, Laylah leaned across the table and spoke to Torg. “Let no heart quail. I like that. Did you just now think that up?”

“My father used to say that to the Tugars when he was chieftain of the Asēkhas,” Torg responded. “But that was a long time ago.”

“When all this is over, you’ll have to tell me more about him,” Laylah said.

“If only you could have met him.”

The Svakaran tapped Torg on the shoulder. His eyes were weepy. “Elu wishes Rathburt and our other friends were here. Will we ever be reunited, great one?”

“Whatever happens will happen,” Torg said. “But I believe we have not seen the last of our companions.
Perhaps Captain Julich will be able to help us.”

A tall figure loomed behind Torg. “Did I hear my name mentioned?”

Torg turned and greeted Julich. “You did, indeed. I will have need of you. Has there been word yet of a meeting of the Privy Council?”

“The queen has made no order, but I believe a council headed by her highness will be arranged for tomorrow. However, our generals and bishops are anxious to speak with you informally this evening. Will you join them in the library?”

“I will
 . . .
but only briefly. In the meantime, I need a favor.”

“Anything, my lord.”

WHILE TORG spoke to Julich, Laylah found that the Tugars had begun to surround her. One handed her Obhasa. Each warrior was almost as tall as the Death-Knower, and even the females were a full span taller than she. The women among them were not as thickly muscled as the men, but they still appeared powerful and even more graceful, if that were possible. The Tugars treated her with a great deal of respect, asking polite questions about her comfort and needs. They also paid considerable attention to Elu, making sure not to exclude him from the conversation, though he barely came up to their knees.

The
Kantaara Yodhas
enthralled Laylah. A chill ran up her spine when the thought entered her mind that she might one day be their queen, assuming they survived the war.

Suddenly, the Tugars parted, allowing Captain Julich to approach her. She had no doubt that any one of them—male or female—easily could have stopped the Jivitan had they considered him a threat, though the captain was no weakling himself.

Julich faced her and bowed. “Lord Torgon asks that you walk with me in the gardens. A Tugar of your choosing may come with us as an escort, if you so desire. The Torgon has been called away to the library for an informal meeting, but he promises to join you shortly.”

“No escort, other than you, will be necessary, Captain.”

She feared the Tugars might protest or take offense, but instead they respectfully backed away.

Elu looked up at her and yawned. “Elu drank too much wine, and his body is still sore. Would you mind if he went to bed, pretty lady?”

“Not at all,” Laylah said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”

Elu smiled and bowed so low his forehead almost brushed against the marble floor. Then he yawned again and limped off.

“My lady?” Julich said, offering Laylah his arm.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

They left the banquet room and strolled down a hallway that led to the west wing, its walls lined with white-marble busts depicting Jivitan war heroes. The wing was adjoined to the Gallery of Mirrors, a magnificent chamber with seventeen arched windows—each several times as tall as a man—looking over the gardens. Opposite each window was a matching mirror framed with gilded bronze.

A pair of grand doors opened into the gardens, which were laced with torchlit walkways weaving through green lawns decorated with evergreens, spring wildflowers, and sophisticated arrangements of rock, stone, and sand.

Laylah was entranced. “Invictus believed that his gardens were the most beautiful in the world,” she found herself saying. “But these are far grander.”

“Your time spent in Avici must have been terrible,” Julich said, quickly adding, “Forgive me if I say too much, but word travels fast in the White City.”

Laylah sighed. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

Julich nodded. “I would ask you much about the sorcerer and his ways, but now is not the right moment. I believe, however, that you will be requested to speak tomorrow at the Privy Council.”

“I have nothing to hide. If I can add anything of value, I will do so.”

“That is all any of us can ask in these difficult times.”

They walked a while longer in silence. The quarter moon began its late-evening rise. Laylah felt an immediate surge of strength flow through her sinews.

“My lady,” Julich said, amazed. “Do my eyes betray me? You are aglow.”

“I take pleasure in moonlight.”

In the rear of the palace, the gardens opened onto a sloping green lawn many hectares in size and dotted with spectacular groves of wildflowers. White horses wandered freely, grazing beneath the starlight.

Julich let out a shrill whistle, and a heavily muscled stallion thundered playfully toward them, neighing as it approached. It came to Laylah and nuzzled her, then also nuzzled the head of Obhasa, its ears relaxed and eyes calm.

“He likes you
 . . .
and the ivory staff,” Julich said.

“It matches his coat,” Laylah said. “Does he have a name?”

“He needs a new one,” came a voice from behind, startling Laylah and Julich but not the stallion. “This horse you shall name, for you shall ride him into battle at my side.”

Laylah’s heart pounded.

Torg’s presence always made her dizzy, especially when she had been separated from him for even a short time. “I shall name him Izumo, in honor of the dracool that gave his life to save mine.”

“An excellent choice,” Julich said softly. Then he leaned forward and whispered in the stallion’s ear. “He knows now, my lady, and will come when called. Izumo will not betray you. He ranks among the greatest in our stables. The queen’s mare is his only superior.”

“I am honored beyond words,” Laylah said.

Torg carried a folded white blanket, and he cast it over Izumo’s back. “Leave us, Captain.”

Julich bowed again. “As you command, Lord Torgon. Until tomorrow.”

AT THE APPROACH of midnight, Invictus continued to lean over his magical basin. He had remained in his upper chambers long past the usual time when he descended into the bowels of Uccheda to avoid the darkness. Earlier that day, he had done his best to ruin Henepola’s mind. That had been so much fun. Scrying had an addictive effect, even on a god. He couldn’t seem to pull himself away.

Invictus suspected, but did not yet know for certain, that Torg and Laylah had escaped the druids and reached Jivita. Once they had entered the forest, he had lost sight of them.

The two of you must be so proud of yourselves. You imagine that you are safe, protected by the pitiful white horsemen and their dried-up queen. But you are safe only because I allow you to be. For now.

He’d always found Rajinii easy to manipulate and infiltrate.

As he swept over Jivita, the glow of her power shined like a star, making it ridiculously simple to locate her. His gaze slipped through one of her bedroom windows and into her personal chambers, where he discovered her lying naked on her bed, clinging to a strange jacket of Duccaritan make. The queen pressed it against her face with her free hand and sniffed it as she masturbated.

How interesting
!

After the queen climaxed, she cast the coat on the floor and fell asleep.

Invictus considered entering her mind and tormenting her—which he had done so many times in recent weeks—but instead he grew bored and left her, making another aerial sweep of the White City.

From high above, Jivita resembled a tangle of bonfires. He had to admit that its immensity impressed him. Once Mala’s army crushed the white horsemen, he would spend a considerable amount of time exploring the city. It would hold his interest for several days, at least. It was worth conquering Jivita, just for that.

At the last moment, something caught his eye, a streak of blue, green, and white light emerging from the shimmer of the city and entering the darkness outside its walls, passing quickly along the western bank of Cariya, before finally settling in an open field a league or so away. Invictus focused as best he could, but it was too dark for him to see clearly. However, the glow seemed to halt in a dense field of multicolored wildflowers.

He watched with frustration as the light expanded and contracted, firing mysterious tendrils through the flowers that resembled bolts of lightning. Suddenly there was a magnificent explosion, as if a volcano had vomited in his face, and even Invictus was thrown back, the cataclysm temporarily blinding him. When he was able to focus again, thousands of flower petals—many of them aflame—fluttered in the air and obscured his view. The glow beneath them had diminished but remained vividly warm.

His suspicions filled him with anger. He considered climbing onto the back of a Sampati or dracool and flying to Jivita right then, but that would be too much work for too little reward. He knew he needed to be patient and let everything play out. If he did, the end result would be all the sweeter—and more interesting. Already his plans for Torg’s demise were taking root.

When he reached the inner chamber far below the base of his beloved tower, he masturbated to orgasm, melting every candle in the room. Servants rushed in, cleaned up what little remained of the gooey wax, and brought in new candles, their fingers trembling as they lighted each wick.

Invictus paid them no heed. His thoughts were on his sister and the wizard.

The time would come when the Death-Knower would receive his proper punishment. When Laylah would again reside in Uccheda as queen of Avici. When his sister would give birth to a son so much like himself.

The time would come!

Can a god be prevented from achieving his desires?

BENEATH THE roaring currents of Cariya, at a spot where the rapids were particularly violent, boulders had been cast together in such a way as to form a small cavern beneath the surface that was filled with a bubble of stale air. No living being larger than a grain of sand had ever inhabited the cavern. Nothing of size could reach it from above or below. Now Rathburt lay there motionless, his eyes closed, appearing deeply asleep or dead.

Two ethereal figures huddled over him, one resembling a gray-haired woman dressed in translucent robes, the other a girl-child in a glowing dress. They stared at Rathburt, debating his condition.

“If he dies, my plan will be ruined,” the gray-haired woman said. “And if that happens, we’ll
all
die.”

“Mother, have you forgotten what I have foreseen? He is a Death-Knower. He will perish but return, which will give him the strength to perform his final duty.”

“This one is not like your Father. He is too pathetic for such a feat. If he dies, he will not have the courage to return.”

“When he dies, I will follow—and bring him back.”

“I know that’s what you’ve been saying, but I still don’t trust you. Instead of coming back, you’ll run off with him to your next life and leave me here to fend for myself.”

“I would not betray Father in that way. I’m not like you.”

“
I would not betray Father in that way. I’m not like you
. And thank the demons for that! You’re so icky-sweet you make me nauseous.”

“Will you allow me to follow or not?”

“If you don’t return, your Father will suffer a fate far more terrible than anything I could devise.”

“I know that, Mother, better than you.”

“Tccch! Children these days. Such smart alecks. Very well, follow him. I’ll be here to welcome you both back with open arms.”

“What a warm and wonderful thought.”