Demon Prince of Mangala Ch. 02

It had started with two and now that two had become three, something that Andrey found suspicious in itself. Sorcery was a rare commodity, its practitioners equally rare. To have three powerful practitioners come to light within months of one another was sufficiently unusual to warrant his personal attention. Which was how he found himself picking his way through the ruins of one of the old cities dotting the wasteland - black armoured soldiers fanning out around him - searching for the last of these practitioners.

The ruins were a trap, of course. The question was: for whom?

About him the shattered remains of the old city sprawled in tatterdemalion grandeur, rich with the promise of abandoned technology from ages past - something few living beyond the protection of the Houses could afford to pass up. But the ruins also sheltered the unquiet dead - dormant during the day but almost certain death to any caught out at night. They made the life of any scavenger a dangerous and, usually, short lived affair.

He passed between the tumbled pillars of what had once been a long passageway - originally covered, now broken and open to the sky above. Although much eroded, it was still possible to make out an occasional mark or design on the pillars, the workmanship precise and elegant although long ago stripped of any significance. One end of the passage tailed off into the dust of the plain, but the other ended in an open portal - Stygian against the bright sunlit stone - leading down into the catacombs below the city. It was from this forbidding entrance that he sensed the presence he sought.

This particular trap had drawn particularly rich prey, he thought, but had he cornered her or had she lured him?

He approached the doorway unenthusiastically. Even from this distance he could feel her power - like a tingle of static electricity on his skin - raw, unfocused, but utterly overwhelming. Drawing him as a flame drew a moth.

With a happier outcome, he hoped.

He slipped through the portal into the blackness, waiting just inside to allow his eyes to adjust to the near dark. Unless he misjudged, she awaited him at the end of the narrow corridor in which he found himself - in a chamber just beyond - the strength of her power giving her away. That she appeared to have no way to escape hardly made his task any easier.

For a long while he stood just beyond the portal, gathering himself - feeling the knot of his power beating in time with his heart, no match for hers but comforting nevertheless - contenting himself that he had missed nothing.

He stepped into the chamber.

She was waiting for him, expecting him. She knew him as he knew her.

"It seems you have me trapped," she said, her voice steady but rich with a hidden tension; a touch of fear, perhaps.

He hoped so.

She stood in the centre of the room, dressed simply in jeans and a white blouse, her blonde hair loose about her shoulders. Her sleeves had been rolled up, exposing her lower arms, and about her hands there glowed a nimbus of blue energy - she practically shone with barely contained power. Before her he noted the corpse of a sheep, cut open on a low stone -- she had obviously taken its life energy to augment her own.

"I have thought so before, Lady Katerina, and been wrong."

She laughed slightly at that, but anxiety seemed to choke off the humour.

"I flatter myself that it will be so again, Prince Andrey."

He shrugged almost imperceptibly. With an eye to the coming fight, Andrey glanced about the dimly lit room. A large hall, perhaps once intended for feasting, it was littered with the debris of fallen stonework, all trace of its former purpose lost in decay and disrepair - the only light leaked through from the door and numerous small holes in the ceiling, leaving it dim and shadowed. It would be a treacherous ground for a fight, still...

He turned his glance back to the sorceress. She appeared young, perhaps twenty-four or twenty-five and, whilst appearances could be deceptive amongst those who used magic, there was something about her poise that indicated that this was indeed her true age. Perhaps he could use that against her? He had to concede that as well as being deadly she was quite beautiful and, for a mere breath, he allowed himself to admire her: her eyes a bright blue - shining in the dim light - her body slender, long-legged. But her beauty had caused him to underestimate her strength before and he would not make the same mistake this time.

"Is it true that you have murdered the Lady Olga and the Lady Mariya?" she said, her eyes following him warily.

Slowly he circled her, picking his way gracefully about the strewn floor.

"It is true," he said at last. The sorceress allowed her eyes to close for a moment, feeling the initiative still with her. She found it hard to believe, two of the most powerful of her sisterhood dead, but she felt the truth in his words. The question was, how?

"Why?"

"For the same reason I have come for you," he said, slowly closing the distance, circling so she was forced to turn to follow his progress. "You gather power, challenge the accepted order. The families cannot countenance this."

She laughed at that, genuine amusement in her tone.

"Of course, we are such a challenge to the Great Houses - we poor sisters, running and hiding in the wastes."

She watched him pause as she laughed. For a moment she thought him about to speak, but he remained silent.

He was dangerous, she was sure - his movements were feline and bespoke a physical power and speed of reflex that she could barely imagine - but he was no warlock. How had he killed Olga and Mariya? She gathered her strength, drawing upon the fire burning within her - maybe it was time to find out?

"How did they die?" she said.

"Not well."

Stepping, circling, always moving. "The Lady Olga died with my knife deep in her heart."

She sighed sadly. "And Mariya?"

Now he did pause, his eyes hidden in the darkness that seemed to follow him.

"She was taken by the dead."

Katerina shivered. As well as any, she knew the unquiet dead infested these wastes - seeking the life of the living, seeking their flesh - eternally hungry. To be taken by them... A horrible, lingering, painful death. She felt horror of it crawl over her skin and recognized the taste of fear -- she was scared, something that could impair her thinking. Did he count on that?

"How did you defeat them?"

"They made the same mistake that you're about to."

Katerina started, her nerves jangling, his words sparked true fear - turning quickly to panic. Before her, he had suddenly stopped moving, was stood facing her -- what did that mean?

Fear made her grab anxiously at the power coursing through her and, as fast as thought, she felt it build: responding to her anxiety, fuelled by her anger, driven by her fear. She gestured - pointing at her tormentor. In an instant her will shaped her desire and her energy, her power -- filled with all her anger, her fear, her fury -- ripped from her at the shadowy form before her.

Andrey felt the power building, the atmosphere suddenly heavy with static - as if a thunderstorm was building overhead. For just a moment he stood still, absolutely still, unnaturally still -- letting the tension sweep over him. In the instant before release he saw the look of fear sweep over her face, fear of him -- fear of death -- and he moved, exploding into motion even as the energy lanced through the room.

The power flowed from her in a mad rush, fear driving her beyond rational thought -- like a man plagued by a wasp she knew only that she had to kill him before he could hurt her. Power leapt from a nimbus about her hands: bolts of blue energy smashing the rocks where he had stood, blasting the pillars behind into dust, sending rocks and debris flying about the room. Madly, terror driving her, Katerina unleashed blast after blast - all the while screaming at the top of her voice, unseen tears coursing down her cheeks -- the heart of a twisting maelstrom of destruction.

Finally, terror abated.

Gradually she felt her control return and the chaos stilled. In the sudden quiet her hands glowed - the power waiting, held in abeyance. Katerina realized that she could see nothing, the air was choked with dust, her night-vision ruined by the repeated blasts of bright light that she had generated. He was nowhere to be seen. Slowly she circled, peering into the darkness, listening with ears still echoing to the sound of explosions.

Nothing.

By degrees she allowed herself to relax, still tense but forcing her nerves to still. Around her she heard debris falling - settling from the destruction she had wrought - the dust slowly drifting in the breeze from the entrance. Still she waited - tense - power singing in her veins.

She needed to get out. Her power had kept the dead from the ruins while she was here, but having unleashed her power in that uncontrolled way she knew that there would be no shield now to hold them back. When night fell outside they would come. Before that, she knew that sooner or later the soldiers outside would have to come and investigate. Ideally she needed to be away before then... But how?

Stealthily she crept toward the door - alert all the while - peering into the dust and the darkness myopically. At the doorway she paused, looking into the darkness of the corridor. In the distance she could see the crimson light of the outside through the entrance to the catacombs and, just visible in the dim light of the corridor, the shapes of men crouching, hiding in the shadows along its length.

She had to get past them... Preferably without using more power. It had been a foolish, uncontrolled display, she was now prepared to concede, and she didn't want to leave herself further drained if she could help it. Maybe there was a second way out? Or perhaps she could make one? She turned to go back to the far wall.

He was stood right behind her.

She gasped, fear spiking through her. He loomed in the darkness like a piece of night made life, somehow seeming to tower above her though he was only a little taller than her. Before she could react, before she could clear her head enough to think, he grabbed her wrists, lifting her hands above her head, pulling her close against him.

In that movement she felt his power - something insidious, subtle, infinitely dark - and it was as if she were nothing more than a child. She knew that he could have killed her then if he had so wished - but even then, in that fleeting instant of fear and shock, she found herself caught by his beauty: his angular face, his raven black hair playing about his eyes.

His eyes!

Caught, she found herself drawn to them, looking into them.

They burned - his eyes burned! Like sapphires lit by an inner flame -- beautiful, depthless -- she found she couldn't look away, found she didn't want to. They burned into her, deep into her - knowing her, seeing her, stripping her inner-self bare - exposing her. Somewhere outside, far away, she heard herself screaming over and over, a terrified noise full of defeat. But all she could see were his eyes, so beautiful. He was so beautiful.

Slowly at first she felt his power slip into her - her defences gone - and she felt her fear rekindle. Like icy fingers he crawled down her spine, niggling, tickling - arousing. Terrified and helpless she felt her power wink out, snuffed out in an instant, and she felt despair wash through her.

Softly, gently, she felt his presence slide through her chest - touching her, possessing her. Deep within - in her heart, in her soul - she felt the first tingle of nascent lust.

"Oh my God..." Katerina suddenly understood what he was - what he was going to do - and fear shivered through her. "You're not... You're not human!"

Andrey laughed but there was little humour in the sound.

Like a fire - his will overwhelming her, her body responding to his behest - she felt her desire growing, burning like a flame in her groin, sweeping like molten metal along her veins, sweeping aside her fear, her terror, her despair. She heard herself whimper, her arousal obvious in the sound - her nipples hardening; the liquid, molten, rush of arousal in her cunt.

"Oh, no... Please, no..."

She moaned - a sound of lust, of loss, of despair.

Oh, sweet fuck - her body was on fire, her skin burning hot, arousal sweeping over her in a wave. Building, washing through her, robbing her of conscious thought -- and all the while she stared and stared into his bewitching eyes, utterly helpless.

By the time he released her wrists she had no thought of escape - had no thought of her own -- she wanted him, needed him, would do anything for him. She dropped to her knees, lust driving all volition from her - gasping, panting for breath, whimpering desperately, her cunt burning -- burning for release.

He gripped the neck of her blouse, ripping it open, sending buttons pinging about the chamber and she moaned -- an earthy sound, wanton, inviting - her slender body sweating in the cool chamber.

His lips burned over her, searing her, each touch like a drop of hot wax on her skin. Desperately, hungrily her lips sought his, her tongue tasting him - sweet, like cinnamon - her hands grabbing desperately at his head. His mouth burned on hers, his tongue a cinder pressed into her mouth, burning through her.

She sighed into his mouth.

Strong hands ripped her bra from her, the fabric tearing like paper, freeing her tits - her nipples achingly hard. Hot kisses poured over her neck, dripping like lava onto her tits. First one, then the other nipple - his molten tongue teasing, flicking.

"Oh, sweet fuck... Please..."

Sensation like nothing she had ever know, waves of heat sweeping from each breast through her chest, igniting her blood - her whole body on fire. His mouth, sucking her nipples, setting them aflame - burning!

"Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck..." she moaned - torn from her in a long shuddering breath.

If the floor was rough when he laid her down she couldn't feel it, her every sense utterly overwhelmed by him: the feel of him, his taste, his smell. Molten kisses descended along her soft belly -- oh sweet fuck, her cunt was burning with liquid fire.

"Please... Oh, please..."

She felt his hands fiddle with her belt, then the snick of leather cut with a knife, impossibly sharp, and her jeans were ripped open, buttons scattering amongst the debris. She struggled to help him as he tore them down her legs.

For a moment all was still and he stood, discarding his clothes.

"Fuck... Oh sweet fucking God... My cunt is on fire... Please..." she whimpered, supine beneath him, her legs wide open, her knees drawn up brazenly.

He folded over her, his body pressing into hers, his hands stroking along her bare skin - each touch setting her afire, whimpering, gasping. She whined pitifully as his lips burned along her body, his tongue licking a fiery trail across each of her tits, tracing a line of molten flame down her belly, into her pubic hair. She gasped helplessly as delicate fingers caressed her, teasing over her thighs, sending hot shivers of pleasure coursing through her.

"Please... Fuck me, fuck me... Oh, God, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me," she was gasping now, utterly lost to the sensations of his body on hers, every contact echoing around her flesh.

His fingers found her cunt -- fuck, I'm so wet, yes, yes - sliding slickly between her lips. Heat flashed through her, her cunt igniting in bonfire response. His fingers danced a devil's dance - sliding around her clit, slipping between her lips, plunging into her wet flesh - fucking her, gently at first, then quicker, harder.

"Oh, yes... Yes..."

His fingers deep inside her, stroking her hot flesh, coaxing a liquid response - her juices gushing from her like molten lava.

All the time she felt her climax building, building... A furnace burning her body. Helplessly she twisted, her hips bucking against his hand, convulsing against him -- desperately seeking release.

"Oh... Sweet fucking God! Please!" she screamed.

Through lust-dimmed eyes she saw him smile and knew that he possessed her, controlled her - that he wouldn't let her cum.

"No... Please... Please... Please, let me cum... Please... Fucking God, please!" she screamed again, her body shuddering on the edge of the precipice, bucking helplessly against his fingers, his thumb gently rubbing her clit...

"No... Oh... Fuck..." she moaned helplessly, her hands clutching the floor spasmodically, her body twisting, vainly seeking release.

For a second he loomed above her, his pale skin luminous in the dim light, her eyes falling to his massive cock, standing erect between her open legs.

"Yes...fuck me! Sweet God, please fuck me!" she gasped.

"Beg," he said.

There was no hesitation. "Please, I'm begging you... Fuck me. Please... Please... Fuck me... Please, fuck me!"

Her hands reached out, clutching for him helplessly.

He drove his cock into her in one stroke, his erection slipping wetly into her sodden flesh. For the briefest moment she felt the pleasure as a physical thing - the feel of his cock filling her, spreading her - then her cunt ignited and the pleasure became a sheet of flame shooting through her body. She screamed -- her back arching on the rough floor, her hands gripping helplessly at the dust and the rock.

"Ah... Yes... Yes... Fuck... Fuck... Oh, sweet fuck!"

He fucked her hard, pounding into her body, her legs wrapped tightly about his back - gripping him, encouraging him, pulling him deeper into her. Her hands clutched his hair, pulling his head against the soft warmth of her neck.

"Oh, fuck me... Oh, fuck me..." her gasps timed to his strokes, her body lost in the heat of pleasure.

Whimpering loudly, she felt her climax mounting - a fever raging through her body, heat like nothing she had ever felt -- she had thought herself near before, but it went on building and building.

Suddenly he gripped her head, his fingers twining in her hair, and she felt him explode inside her, jetting semen deep into her body. As if he had given her his permission, she felt her own climax ignite -- indescribable pleasure exploding through her, release burning along her body with a power so great her flesh seemed unable to contain it. Her vision danced with flickering lights and, as if from a great distance, she heard herself screaming over and over again. Slowly, like the kindness of an enemy, blackness claimed her.

She didn't expect to wake up.

When she did so, she found herself still in the same chamber, still naked, Andrey's cum dribbling from her cunt. Apart from feeling utterly drained, her wrists were manacled behind her.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, good, you're awake," Andrey said.

She saw him then, sitting on a broken block of masonry, fully clothed now. At the same moment she realised that her wrists were secured to a similar block behind her.

"What are you going to do to me?" Her voice was nervous.

"Nothing," he said evenly. "I'm going to leave you here."

The reality of her predicament sank in. She was naked, chained and helpless in the wastes. In a few hours, maybe less, the dead would come...

"No, please," she said, her voice heavy with fear.

Then another horrible thought occurred to her. "Is this how Mariya died?"

She saw him shift uncomfortably. "Yes. It took... It took a long time. It wasn't pleasant."

Katerina could imagine how it was: unable to defend herself, the teeth biting, ripping at her flesh - eating her alive - the fingers clawing at her.

She shuddered.

"Please. Don't do this," she said and she heard the desperation in her own voice.

"That remains for you to decide," he said.

For a moment she felt hope kindle. "What do you mean?"