Red Tsonia & The Witch In The Dark

Tsonia still held the blade and they danced around each other as she tried in vain to slash at the demon tentacle that snared her. With his hand near the head of the spear, Shaskar jabbed at her bare abdomen with short, deft strokes in the manner of the warriors of the southern tribes. Her agile hips were more nimble than he'd expected and she dodged each strike despite her captured hands.

The woman dropped her weight suddenly, crouching, her bound hands held in front of her face to angle her sword blade defensively. Shaskar stepped back, protecting his sore groin, and aimed a downward blow at her wounded shoulder but Tsonia followed his retreat, turning inside the attack. She stood abruptly, her back to his chest, the curve of her mail-clad ass pressed to his manhood, and the back of her head slammed into his nose.

Through the searing flash of pain behind his eyes, Shaskar felt something else, a sharp, clenching agony in his demon arm, and he realized she was biting him. With a nerve he'd never witnessed in the strongest of men, she had clamped her teeth into his grotesque appendage and bitten him. He whipped the tentacle away from the pain with all his might and she tore away a dripping gobbet of his rubbery flesh.

Tsonia spun away, sword at the ready and spat out the wad of vile meat. It landed with a wet splat upon the stone floor.

"You think me afraid of your fell limb grown beyond the veil?' she sneered.

In the flickering light of the brazier, Shaskar could see the black ichor dripping down her chin. "I've made love to fouler things than you, Shaskar, and cum with them inside me!"

"An interesting alternative." Shaskar cocked an eyebrow and shook the pain away from his wound, spattering black blood across the floor. His nose was broken and he tried to ignore that pain as well as the tears blurring his vision. "I fear things have gone too far to consider that a possibility now."

"Yes," Tsonia agreed, "My blade shall fuck you, but I shall not!"

She launched another assault, sword flashing in quick thrusts that he batted away with his spear. She'd learned to dance away from the whipping tentacle that sought another grip, though he knew the injured arm was slower now than it had been. He needed to find a new advantage, and quickly.

As the firelight flitted along his foe's darting blade, Shaskar had an idea. The brazier, suspended by chains above Amalthra's doorway, hung high enough out of reach to be safely ignored, but with the length of a spear he could spill the burning fuel. All he had to do was maneuver Tsonia beneath it.

Tsonia struck again and he dodged, this time towards the doorway, and he counterattacked, whipping his wounded tentacle to the left, forcing her to turn away to the right with his flaming trap behind her. With a plan now, Shaskar shifted to a more aggressive stance and seized a second spear in his slimy grip. Jabbing, slashing, thrusting with both weapons, he forced Tsonia to give ground with each parry and riposte.

She backed away from him, a step at a time, yielding ground. One more step, he thought, and she'd be his. His loathsome demon arm curled further down the spear shaft to extend his reach as he prepared to spring his trap. With the spear in his human arm, he stabbed low at her belly to keep her focus away from his gambit, but rather than retreating the needed step, Tsonia fell.

She dropped back away from him, her torso folding neatly at her waist, the spearhead a mere whisker from piercing her flesh. Her fall was arrested by her ankle followed by her opposite hip, then her spine, her shoulder, her neck in quick order. Tsonia rolled backwards as Shaskar stepped forward to pursue, driving his spear down as she tumbled away from him, too late realizing where he stood.

Under the arch of Amalthra's doorway, Tsonia's momentum propelled her back to her feet. As she rose, she hurled her sword up, releasing it at the peak of her swing so it spun away and struck the fiery brazier from beneath with a resonant clang, tipping it wildly in its chains.

Shaskar had the presence of mind not to look up, but the flaming oil sloshed over his neck and his shoulders and down his back. The pain was unbearable, incandescent white, as his skin bubbled and crisped beneath his burning cloak. In a fury, Shaskar screamed and his lungs filled with molten air, immolating his body from inside and out. Blinded by the inferno that consumed him, he beat at the flames in vain. With his last thought, Shaskar lunged forward. If he must burn, he would take this she-devil with him to Hell.

Collapsing into the sheltered archway, Shaskar grasped for his killer, thrashing in agony, searching for any limb that he might cling to in revenge. But the alcove was empty. Tsonia was already gone. And soon enough, so was Shaskar.

***

"I bid you welcome, Red Tsonia. Rest assured that no harm shall befall you within my home."

The voice, strong and assertive, echoed off the walls of a large hall, lit by a few oil-filled braziers. Slowly, Tsonia walked between pillars carved from the ziggurat's ubiquitous black stone and laced with that luminescent green mineral. There were unsettling pinpricks of light in the shadows, fires set deep within the eye sockets of disembodied skulls. Some had been set into alcoves in the walls, others strewn about the floor. Her sandal-clad foot caught on something and flung it into the gloom. It echoed off the flagstones with a forlorn, hollow tocking. Her questing gaze found small bones, probably fingers, scattered across the floor in arcane patterns. Tsonia, usually left unperturbed by death's reminders, felt an eerie shiver caress her spine. She averted her gaze and looked elsewhere, trying to find the voice's owner.

The ceiling above had been elaborately shaped into a vault and wherever her gaze wandered, Tsonia saw strange carvings depicting alien beings haphazardly mashed together from men and fish and kraken and bird.

More alien carvings adorned the lid of a gargantuan sarcophagus looming upright in the midst of the twilit hall, offering barely fathomable insights as to its contents. The only thing Tsonia understood was an arc of moon phases going from new to full, etched in brilliant green. The sarcophagus joined floor and ceiling with just enough room for a grown man to walk past either side. Bearing a small oil lamp, a tall, raven-haired woman waited next to one of these passages.

She equaled Tsonia in height and her limbs and body were finely honed, graceful and firm. A gown of sheer white fabric offered a hint of modesty. Elaborate pauldrons made from hammered orichalcon, along with a gorget covering most of her breasts and finely inlaid greaves offered protection in a fight. A sword belt, held together by a winged clasp, wound around her hips and Tsonia spotted a well-worn Vizangian scimitar hung from it.

"You have me at a disadvantage," Tsonia said, offering a nod in greeting. "Are you yourself Amalthra, or merely her servant? I was expecting..."

"A whithered crone, stooped and ancient?" The raven-haired warrior woman chuckled amicably, mirth flashing in her midnight-black pupils. "You seem a guileless and candid sort, Tsonia. Why intimidate you with age when we can discuss things as equals? I am indeed Amalthra." She offered a slight bow and indicated the passage behind her. "Please, follow me. Important questions are best dealt with around strong drink and pleasant company."

Tsonia cast a gaze towards the hall's entrance, now lost among the shadows. "I hope you won't begrudge me for killing Shaskar. We had a score to settle. A life for a life."

Amalthra just shook her head as she crossed the hall and led Tsonia through another passage, into a smaller room lit by beds of crude candles along one wall, their tallow an unsettling color. Cushions littered the floor and a table was piled high with carved stone tablets, scrolls, and codices. A second table resembled a bejeweled insect with beakers, glass tubing and other alchemical tools sprouting from its surface like so many misshapen extremities, reflecting the flickering candle light in strange hues that gamboled across the walls.

"Shaskar's fate was spun long before you met," Amalthra said, claiming a pitcher and some cups from a shelf. "He never understood the value of loyalty. Instead of serving one master dutifully, he tried to be his own lord, always scheming, always plotting but never achieving the one thing he truly sought—to be his own man. It was I who grafted one of my Master's gifts to Shaskar's shoulder, but only as payment for rendered service. He was never mine to command." The Witch of the Warrens sat down on the cushions and filled the cups with thick, sweet-smelling wine. She offered Tsonia a warm smile and a cup. "Sit. Drink."

"So it wasn't you who sent him to kill me?" Warily inspecting the cup, Tsonia joined Amalthra on the floor, blade in easy reach.

Amalthra laughed, a heartfelt sound coming straight from her stomach. "Heavens, no! I have no quarrel with you. But tell me, how did your tryst with DuFrain play out?"

Tsonia froze, cup almost touching her lips. "You know about that? Your reputation is well deserved."

A cunning smile curled Amalthra's ruby lips. "He petitioned me for months upon months to guide your path to his bedchamber." The witch sipped her drink and smacked her lips in delight. "I extracted many a favor... and some well-earned entertainment from his desires." She caressed down her front, her fingers stopping just shy of her sex. "The web of the fate spiders can be nudged ever so slightly by those with the gift... or the right patron. DuFrain claimed his prize, I trust?"

Tsonia stopped just short of spitting on the cushions. "He's a pathetic, milky little man with delusions of grandeur. I took his guards in his stead and he refused to accept his pleasure vicariously, though he would have enjoyed it far more than his own inadequacy."

"Then you have your answer. There is no doubt DuFrain set Shaskar on your trail." Amalthra took another sip from her cup and locked gazes with Tsonia. "Now tell me, Tsonia. What is it you desire? Why did you brave the Warrens and Shaskar to find me down here?"

The deep, persistent ache in her shoulder reminded her why she was there. The fury of combat or sex had helped her ignore the pain for a time, but it had not really subsided at all since that night in the brigand's camp.

"I seek someone versed in the arts from beyond the veil. DuFrain's proxies were rather generous with their disdain for you in particular," Tsonia said, putting down her untouched cup. With some difficulty, she divested herself of her armor, tossing the tattered chain aside.

"DuFrain was nothing if not expansive in your praise," Amalthra said, lavishing Tsonia's naked chest with an appreciative gaze. "Both your beauty and your fighting prowess. At least some of his favor seems warranted."

Tsonia gnashed her teeth as she reached for the bandage. "Well, ever since a foolish boy nailed me with a crossbow, I'm a mere shadow of myself."

Amalthra drained the rest of her cup and rose, lithely stepping behind Tsonia. She heard the raven-haired witch inhale deeply. Gentle fingers touched her skin, peeling away the sweat-stained bandage to reveal the black scab underneath. Tsonia hissed with a start as the scab was tugged.

"Now things make so much more sense," Amalthra whispered, her breath a strange sensation on Tsonia's skin. "You are tainted, dear Tsonia. I smell the black blood in your veins."

"Yes, I was, and that taint has protected me and given me potence beyond the strongest mortals. I have shrugged off spears to my gut, deep sword slashes much worse than this!" Tsonia growled. "What in the Hells happened? How can one blasted crossbow bolt hurt me so?"

"There are but few things able to disrupt the demonic energies bestowed upon a mortal," Amalthra said, caressing Tsonia's neck and shoulder, cleansing her wound with a flannel dampened in a fragrant poultice. "Much depends on how the demonic taint was acquired. Tell me, how were you corrupted?"

Tsonia exhaled slowly, torn between pushing the whispering witch away and allowing her to continue her gentle ministrations. "My own mother offered me as a virgin sacrifice to the demon lord Q'alan in exchange for magical powers," she said softly.

"She thought Q'alan would tear me to pieces and drink my soul, but instead he used my every orifice and bathed me in his demonic seed. At first I wished I would die under his assault, but soon enough the pain was gone and I learned to revel in the power I had upon him, how I was able to make the demon howl in pleasure whenever I swallowed his cock or clenched my cunt or ass around him. Instead of fatigue, every time he doused me with his unearthly seed, I was invigorated and begging for more."

Tsonia closed her fingers around Amalthra's hand which was only inches away from slipping under her kilt. "Try as he might, Q'alan could not conquer my desire. I am told he spent days defiling me, though it seemed like mere hours. When he finally tired of me, I was the equal of three men in battle."

Amalthra's lips touched Tsonia's neck, her hot tongue licked a droplet of sweat off her skin. "A blessing such as his, powerful as it may be, is easily broken by those of pure heart. You said someone shot you?"

"Yes. A young boy, no more than a dozen years, living with the brigands we hunted."

"Unusual, like so much about you," Amalthra purred. "But fret not. The gift can be restored by a relatively mundane ritual. All we need to do is corrupt the boy's heart. Has he a sibling or a young friend he could be enticed to murder?"

Tsonia sighed. "I know not, but he is probably halfway to Debon by now. The boy was given to a caravan master and they left before we descended into the Warrens." Tsonia locked eyes with Amalthra. Even though the boy was going to further complicate her life, she wasn't entirely sure she could bring herself to pervert his young innocence. "Must I chase him down? Is there no other way?"

The witch chuckled softly. "Oh no, there is an alternative. Corrupting the child would have been easiest, but in fact, I'm relieved that we have no other choice but to indulge in the second option."

"You are going to summon a demon to fuck me, aren't you?" It was a suspicion Tsonia had harbored all along, with some small anticipation. Nonetheless, she was surprised at the heat suddenly flushing her cheeks and the tremble in her voice.

"I don't have the materials and sacrifices to bring a demon fully into this world," Amalthra admitted. "But I can offer my body as a vessel for my lord and master, to help us in restoring your former glory."

The witch sounded out of breath already, her own skin flushed with heat. A lusty twinkle had taken root in her eyes and her lips hovered a mere inch from Tsonia's.

"Before you entreat him," Tsonia stalled, but tilted her head and did not back away, "let me know what the price will be. There is always a price, isn't there?"

"That is for my master to decide," Amalthra whispered. She rose, leaving the kiss unconsummated and Tsonia's desire suddenly frustrated.

Amalthra began to collect charms, bowls, tins, a scroll and other arcane utensils from around the room. "I'm certain he'll be pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Who exactly is your master?" Tsonia asked, a bit suspicious at the witch's sudden enthusiasm.

"Xelathu, Master of Chaos." Amalthra stopped near the doorway, arms laden with her mystic tools and a wide, insane grin parting her crimson lips. "And you, my dearest Tsonia, are one of his favored agents."

Tsonia rose as well, not bothering to collect her discarded armor. "You are talking nonsense, woman! I am no one's agent, least of all a demon I have never heard of!"

Amalthra laughed softly as she returned to the large central hall. "Xelathu is the destroyer of order, dear Tsonia. And your hand has dealt death to important people who would have ordered and structured the world to their benefit. Tell me, how many warlords, nobles, or clergymen of the Green Cities have fallen to your blade?"

"Too many to count." Tsonia gnashed her teeth. She followed the chuckling witch back into the grand hall. "Corrupt bigots and hypocrites, every last one. Braying like righteous asses by day, consorting with foul demonspawn by night to gain the riches or power they couldn't earn through honest means."

"And so, your blade shapes the web of fate by cutting short some threads, saving others who might have fallen prey to your victims—it is a complicated dance of life and death. And each cut furthers chaos."

In front of the massive sarcophagus, Amalthra knelt down and placed her tools on the floor. She looked up at Tsonia who was pacing along a wall, past a sculpture made from rib cages, femurs and skulls arranged into an unspeakable pattern of bone. "What about your mother?" Amalthra asked softly, picking a particular piece of chalk from one of her pouches.

"One day I will find her and properly reward the bitch for offering me up to a demon," Tsonia vowed, balling her fist. "Until then, may she suffer under whichever devil's foot she kneels these days." She shook her head in an attempt to chase her fury away. "May I ask a question in return?"

Slowly and deliberately, Amalthra chalked a circle, seven paces across, onto the black stones. Once it was perfectly done, she exchanged the chalk for a powder pouch and sprinkled green dust over the circle. It flared brightly as if touched by flame. Tsonia felt the hairs on her arms stir, as if a slight wind was caressing them—or some sinister forces stirred. Next came some charms, misshapen clumps of metal and crystal the witch placed at certain points around the circle's outside. A low hum, more a feeling than a sound, filled the hall.

"Ask away," Amalthra said, pulling a small bowl closer. Into it, she poured more of the green powder before reaching for a small knife, its hilt made from a long, sturdy bone and inlaid with alien runes.

"What are you doing here? Why spend your life locked away in these lightless depths?"

Amalthra hissed sharply as she drew the blade across her palm, opening a deep cut. Hot red blood dripped into the bowl, mixing with the green powder and turning it into a radiant sludge. Despite the pain, she grinned wickedly. "I am here by choice, dear Tsonia, not because someone locked me away. The ziggurat these fools chip away at day in, day out, it is an ancient place of power." She held up the glowing bowl. "I won't rest until I have uncovered every little secret this place holds. Once I know everything there is to know, I will return to the Green Cities and plunge them into utter chaos." Her howling laughter echoed off the walls, the green radiance emanating from her bowl turning the witch's pale face into a demonic mask of madness. As suddenly as it had flared up, her mirth subsided and she lowered the bowl to the floor.

"I will require your aid in the next step of the ritual," Amalthra announced, undoing the straps holding her armor pieces in place. "Mind your steps though. Breaking the circle will spell doom for all of us." She tossed her greaves to the outside of the circle.

"We can't have a demon running around freely down here, now can we?" Tsonia quipped, carefully crossing into the flaming circle's interior. The flames were cold, yet still caressed her skin with a crackling intensity stronger than any blaze she had ever been close to.

Amalthra removed her gorget and sent it clattering to the outside of the circle. "The circle and the runes you are going to paint on my body are laid out to amplify my powers, not ward the world against my master," the witch said, shrugging off her pauldrons. "The green mineral you see everywhere around you is a powerful catalyst for mystical energies and I have learned how to harness it." Offering Tsonia a lurid smile, she shed her white gown. Instead of throwing it out of the circle as she had done with the rest of her garb, she draped it carefully on the floor before picking up a scroll. It was written in viridian ink and shimmered in the light of the circle. Amidst rows of runes Tsonia had never seen before, the outline of a human body had been crudely drawn, along with several sigils covering the body's face, chest, stomach and sex.