The Rivals Ch. 05: Orgy of Death

"Listen to yourself!" There was anger in Avilia's eyes now. "You're going to give up on Zretha just like that? You're going to let this fucking demon win?" Again her lips pressed against his, and again he heard the bad poetry come through her body. "Stabbing with his sword he heard a scream right where the demon had been, and he stabbed again and again for the souls of all men..."

Despite himself he felt his body respond to Avilia's kisses. His arms came up and around her. Slowly, hesitantly, he opened his lips to kiss her back. Her tongue snaked into his mouth as the terrible poetry droned on and on. He let his mind follow the words, catching the bad metre, the contrived language, the poor imagery. Unconsciously he started to correct it, looking for a better translation, one that was more satisfying.

Then Avilia broke the kiss. Her hands were still on the sides of his head and she looked him carefully in the eye. "You're back. I can feel it." And she glanced down.

His cock was hot and swollen against his thigh. He realised he'd been pressing himself against her body. "You're a good kisser," he replied with a grin. Part of his mind was still rewriting the Deed of Orda, and the fear and despair that had swept over him were receding.

"My next move would have been sucking you off. I'd like to see some fucking demon try to compete with that."

He noticed a tightness around her eyes relax. She'd been worried, he realised, really worried, and the realisation filled him with a warm joy that swept away the last traces of the demon's fear and the dread that the bloodmark had sent through him.

Avilia leaned forward and kissed him quickly. "Come on," she said. "We still have to make sure Nemez dies."

She bent down and retrieved her spear from the ground. Sligh looked around for the Prince. When he finally saw him, he gave a curse. "Skies, look at that!"

The Shadowguard had been brought to a halt a long stride from the mellix's box. Its arms were pinned to its sides, its sword still clenched in its fist but pointing harmlessly to the ground.

Nemez was standing behind it, squeezing tight so it couldn't move. Tentacles writhed over both their forms. Looking more closely, Sligh noticed tentacles disappearing into the Prince's ears, and a thick one up his arse. His eyes appeared dead, but his body held enough strength to render the Shadowguard helpless.

As Sligh watched, the Shadowguard's body stopped struggling. Demon tentacles clawed at its face, as if looking for a way in.

"Fuck!" Avilia screamed. Before Sligh could stop her -- even if he wanted to -- she darted forward, spear held in both hands. It sank into Nemez's back, pinning the naked man against the Shadowguard.

The Prince screamed, an unnatural sound that seemed to echo with demonic whispers. His head whipped from side to side as if he was trying to break free. His arms didn't relax their grasp on the Shadowguard, though, and the force of Avilia's attack pressed them both forward towards the box.

Screaming with the effort Avilia pushed harder and the spear entered further into Nemez's body. Now his arms went loose, falling to his sides, but the spear had passed through him and into the Shadowguard.

The alien creature turned its head to Avilia, ignoring the tentacles groping at its face. Then it closed its eyes and its body went limp, held up by the spear in its back.

The sword in its hand seemed to glow, becoming brighter and brighter until Sligh had to shield his eyes. Then the blaze faded suddenly and the hilt slipped from the dead creature's hand.

"Get it!" Avilia called to Sligh. "The sword! Stab the demon!"

He was dashing forward before he knew it. The sword was warm to the touch, and almost shivered when he lifted it. "I don't know how--" he began, but the weapon was swinging almost by itself.

The tentacles had formed a single mass to attack the Shadowguard, and before they could separate and turn on Sligh he'd followed the blade past them and was standing before the box.

The heavy lid was ajar, revealing a black shape within. A malevolence poured from it, a hatred of everything living, a hatred that was almost tangible.

Sligh's mind wavered from its stubborn recital of the Deed of Orda, but the sword was unaffected. He saw his hand come up and stab forward. Just as the first black tentacles began to grasp at his ankles the blade slipped into the box and sank into the darkness inside.

The resistance was only slight. The sword pressed forward effortlessly until it met the wood on the box's far side. Blue lights danced along its edge and lit up the darkness inside the box.

Sligh watched as the mellix, a slimy ball about the size of a human head, shuddered and writhed. Its tentacles retracted into its body, leaving nothing but blunt stubs that waived helplessly. The blue flames seemed to eat away at the demon's form, digging deeper and deeper until a silent scream ripped through the air, like nails across a hellish chalkboard. Then the light exploded. When it was gone, so was the mellix.

Sligh let his hand slip from the hilt of the Shadowguard's sword. The scholar in him wanted to study it, but he recalled the trouble Avilia had found herself in when she had one of the alien blades.

He felt drained, physically and mentally. His mind was still reeling off lines of bad poetry and trying to rewrite them, and he forced himself to stop.

A groan behind him made him turn. Nemez was staring at him, eyes and mouth wide. Fear and pain had swept the arrogance from his face, revealing the young man beneath. Blood trickled from his mouth, and from the wound in his chest where the spear's shaft emerged. "Wh-- what...?"

Avilia pulled at the spear, but it was stuck. Nemez gave a strangled cry. Whatever supernatural strength had suffused him seemed to have departed with the demon.

Sligh took half a step forward, unsure what to do. Before his foot touch the ground, though, the naked man closed his eyes and let out a long breath. He didn't breathe in.

It was as if a weight had been lifted from Sligh's chest. He filled his lungs with air, despite the fetid stink of death that hung around them. Then his fingers were fumbling at his jerkin, untying the laces and pulling it open.

Squinting down he let the air out in a sigh of relief. "It's gone."

Avilia let go of the spear. The two impaled bodies toppled sideways onto the ground like a pair of mismatched lovers in the dim light. She peered at Sligh's chest and grinned. "Job done. Let's get out of here."

Epilogue

Escaping the Imperial Palace was simplicity itself. They picked their way between the trampled and torn bodies. Terena's mother was sitting with her back against a wall, torn dress still gathered round her waist. In her lap she cradled the bloodied head of her son. He wasn't moving, or even breathing as far as Avilia could see. Terena had disappeared.

There were naked people standing around, looking confused and frightened, their bodies bruised and bloody. Some had their arms around others, holding each other tight and weeping quietly. Avilia counted a dozen forms lying still and lifeless -- nobles and servants alike. Beyond, outside the wide doors, they could hear shouted commands. Someone was coming to restore order.

At the stairs leading to the tower, Avilia kissed Sligh long and hard, then began to climb. Before the stairs turned, she glanced behind her. Sligh was holding a scrap of parchment, which he pressed to the bare skin of his chest. As she watched, he shimmered and disappeared.

Her silver whistle brought Farflier to her. She had no saddle, and had to repurpose the chord of a curtain for reins. But the roc was a familiar and steady mount, and when the sun rose she was leagues south of Taridhol.

Sligh's voice had continued to whisper in her ear for some time while she flew through the black night. The poetry was awful, just as Sligh had said, but she liked hearing his voice, liked listening to the inflection in his tone at a particularly bad line. By the time the whispering stopped, she was grinning openly.

As night faded around her, she scanned the ground below until she spotted the conical hill topped with a standing stone where Sligh had said he'd meet her. Twitching the cord that served as Farflier's reins, she guided the roc down.

The sun was a handspan above the horizon when she saw a small dust cloud approaching. The speed was astonishing, even to someone who knew just how fast a riding-lizard could move.

She was on her feet even before Zretha reached the bottom of the hill. When the great beast crested the top, Avilia found herself on tiptoes, and as soon as Sligh dismounted she had her arms around him and they were kissing and laughing.

Moments later Farflier gave a cry and launched himself into the air. Zretha wandered down the slope of the hill, her long tongue snaking out to pluck at leaves and twigs. At the top of the hill, everything was silent except for passionate moans and grunts, and later a two-voiced cry of happy release.