Warlock Ch. 13

"Ah, here we are," she said as they came to an iron-shod door set into the stone at the bottom of a hallway. Behind them the stairs led up to one landing after another, each with guards positioned nearby. There was no way back out without her blessing.

"This seems like a dungeon," John said, playing her game a little longer. She's tested her magic against his but he hadn't showed his hand yet. Could his powers best hers? He hoped so, but he knew he hadn't seen her give her best effort yet. He had Artesia behind him, but a single call would bring all the soldiers in the keep down on them. He might need more than Artesia if they were going to see the light of day again.

"If the watch misunderstood my orders and took her from you, this is where she would be," Jaspara said. "They are desperate to insure the safety of Dilly during these uncertain times. A kingdom without a king is a desperate place where anything can happen."

She opened the door and, for the first time since taking his arm, she let him go and slipped through the doorway ahead of him. John followed behind and heard Artesia close on his heels.

The passage beyond the doorway smelt of brimstone. John slowed and glanced back at Artesia. Her hand went to her sword but he gave a quick shake of his head. Her jaw tightened but her sword remained sheathed.

John followed Jaspara down the hallway. There were no torches or lanterns but a light ahead lit the hallway curved the left as it descended at a shallow grade. It was getting warmer too, he noticed. It didn't bother him, but he still felt it.

"Take care," Jaspara warned from a few paces ahead. Her shadow leapt along the wall of a sudden, complete with horns.

John's eyes narrowed. He followed the arc and saw the source of the light. The left wall stopped abruptly, worked stones giving way to an opening. The floor of the tunnel continued down, arcing as it descended to join the natural cavern. A great brazier burning in the middle. The fuel for the flames was buried deep beneath the flames, making it impossible to identify.

John sucked in a breath when he saw a large bed built onto a plinth of stone at one side of the room. Posts rose from each corner to a canopy with silks that fell about that bed and obscured it from view. John couldn't tell if anybody was in the bed or not.

"I need you," John sent the thought through the bond he shared with Jennaca. He felt her surprise and then a surge of... emotion. He didn't have time to sort through the emotions but he knew excitement and lust were two leading contenders. He focused and willed another thought to her, "We're in the palace. Under it."

"This does not look like a dungeon," Artesia commented.

A shrill voice hissed, "About damn time!"

John twisted and saw a cage wrought of black iron hanging from the ceiling nearly twenty feet above them. The cage was still several feet off the ground. Inside was a very angry looking Zynga, complete with undisguised horns, tail, and wings.

John stepped onto the floor and felt an oppressive weight settle onto his shoulders. It wrapped him like a cloak, squeezing against him without crushing him. John twisted, spinning in a circle but saw nothing but the cave around him.

"You fool," Zynga snapped when she saw his surprise.

John pulled his magic into his eyes. With his vision enhanced he saw the runes, sigils, and spell patterns on the floor, walls, and ceiling of the room. He studied it while Jaspara watched him, an amused expression on her lips.

"Spelled to enhance your infernal magic," John interpreted.

Jaspara's delight grew. "Oh John, you are so delicious. Tell me, how can you resist me so?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "What are you, exactly?"

"I am Jaspara, Queen and Servant of Dilly," she said. "Is that not enough?"

"And your infernal magic?"

"I don't know, in truth. I was born this way."

"Born like this? On this world?"

"In this very city," she said. "Or so I suspect. I grew up in the small temple dedicated to Cenwe, the saint of enlightenment, introspection, and humility. Humility! Me? How could I be humble when I was gifted with this body and these powers?"

John watched her gesture at herself, her fingers trailing over her curves intentionally.

"Quite a burden to bear," he said.

"Right?" she agreed. "And now you... John, I've never met anyone like you. To be fair, I prefer my men a little more muscular and large... it's so fun to watch when they realize a little thing like me overpowered them and made them my plaything."

"I can imagine," John said.

"I knew you would," she said.

Artesia stepped on to the floor, her hand on her sword while she tried to move slowly and avoid attention so she could get closer to Jaspara.

Jaspara saw her and smiled. "There's no need for that," Jaspara said. "There are forty seven guards in my palace alone that will rush to my aid with a thought. We're friends here, after all, aren't we, John? Oh, I hope you don't mind if we dispense with titles here within my sanctum?"

"What do you want?" John demanded.

"I want you, of course," she admitted. "You are something new. Something different and exciting."

"And what if you can't have me?" John asked. "What if I'm stronger than you?"

"Then rule by my side," she said. "Give me your son and we will rule this city-state as long as we both live!"

John held up a finger and ticked off his points as he considered them. "So if I'm more powerful than you I should just let you go without punishment for stealing my companion? I should ignore your attempts to overpower me with your magic and just treat you as my equal?"

She smiled. "I'm glad you see it my way."

"You're mad," John accused.

She bit her lip before laughing. "Oh John, look beyond the madness. Look at all that I have. All that we can have... even if I overpower you like I have all the others, you'll be special to me, I promise."

"That's some consolation," he said.

Jaspara stepped over to the bed and pulled back the lacy curtain from the side. "Come, John, I've delivered on my promise. Although you can imagine my surprise when my watchmen brought this girl to me and she was being followed by an imp bound by contract!"

Corsa lie on the bed, stripped nude and spread eagled between the four posts. Chains bound in soft leather were secured around her ankles and wrists. Zynga watched Corsa through the bars of her cage, a snarl on her face.

Artesia's sword was halfway out of her scabbard before John's hand thrust out to the side, stopping her. He took a deep breath to quell the rage building inside of him. "What is this?" he demanded.

"Why John, this is Lady Corsa, illegitimate daughter of King Pelagryn of Khalas. Did you not think he would send pigeons to the nearest city-states? And did you really think dying her hair would be enough? The poor girl has half a tongue, how do you disguise that? Foolish to risk coming here, really. Unless... saints preserve us, you didn't come for that dreadful swill they call ale, did you?"

"Let her go," John said through clenched teeth.

"John... think this through. I'm the Queen and my beauty is legendary, is it not? Lady Corsa is no threat to me, of course, but she is far from plain. Some might even prefer a more wholesome appearance such as she has. And, naturally, the fools of Dilly and their belief in women being inferior would jump at the chance to have a wife who could not speak. Can you imagine the horror if they insisted all their women have their tongues cut out?"

"Or you could avoid all of this and just let us— what are you doing?" John hissed as Jaspara sat on the bed next to Corsa and reached over to cup Corsa's small breast in her hand. She squeezed and, as she did so, her fingernails grew longer and more pointed. Blood welled and began to darken Corsa's pale skin.

Corsa hissed and struggled against her chains.

"He wants her back alive, but he said dead is acceptable," Jaspara said. "Tell me John, do you care for this mangled waif? She's unloved and disfigured... unless... do you love her? Is that what's at stake here? Do you love this unwanted half-breed so much that you'd risk her life, yours, and your... woman-at-arms for her?"

Red tinted John's vision. It slid in from the side and colored everything he saw. His heart was hammering in his chest and the pressure that swirled around grew tighter, constraining the dark magic that yearned to be let loose on the vile queen.

Jaspara's nails grew on both hands until they were several inches long and came to undeniable points. "I'm a lover, not a fighter, John, but be careful. A woman spurned is known to go to any lengths for vengeance. Oh, and my guards! So many guards just waiting up that ramp.

"Every one of them knows what's down here. Every one them is my loyal servant. Imagine how upset they'd be if you tried to harm me. Imagine how angry they'd be. Can your power really be so great here, within my wards, that you'd risk that?" she asked.

"Or," she continued. "You could realize how great we could be together. I have to tell you, your resistance is legendary. You have no idea how turned on you've made me. I'd heard the hunt is the best part of the seduction but before you I never believed it. Now... well, it's a good think I'm queen, I've ruined this dress and these sheets just by sitting on them!"

Jaspara let go of Corsa's breast and traced a line down her belly, parting her skin all the way to her belly button and causing her to cry out in a guttural wail.

"Stop!" John howled.

"I'll stop as soon as you make me, John," Jaspara said.

John growled and took a step forward.

The nails on her other held drew back and she snapped her fingers. Her robe burst into flames that were gone in seconds, leaving her unharmed and nude. Even in John's state of extreme rage he acknowledged how truly magnificent her breasts were.

"Now that I have your attention where it belongs," the Queen said. "Lose the robe. Then we can properly negotiate affairs of state."