Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles Page 3

  “A good sign,” he said to Lucius.

  They sat for a while without speaking. Lucius was the first to break the silence.

  “What was it like being in here with her last night? From outside the cave, it looked like a volcano. How did you manage to survive? I tried to crawl inside, but was nearly burned alive. And why was the eclipse so painful to her?”

  “There you go again with your questions, Lucius. As for how I was able to survive? I am a Tugar by birth, and my body is not easily damaged. But the powers that I wield as a Death-Knower are what truly protected me. Your describing what happened in here as resembling a volcano is not so off the mark. Indeed, the white fire that burst from Laylah during her distress was every bit as lethal as an eruption. Still, I was able to contain it, with minimal damage to us—and the interior of the cave—though Obhasa and I were sorely tested.

  “As to why the eclipse was so painful to her? I can only guess. There must have been dozens of times in her life when the moon became enshrouded with shadow, and it’s obvious she survived those occurrences with little harm. But this was the first time that a lunar eclipse followed a total eclipse of the sun. The two together proved too much . . . almost.”

  Torg looked down at Laylah’s face and smiled. “Despite the near disaster, I am hopeful. Invictus was also weakened, which proves that the sorcerer is not impervious to harm. Perhaps, before all is said and done, we can devise a way to defeat him.”

  A voice from outside interrupted their conversation.

  “Breakfast is ready,” Ugga shouted. “Little Elu has cooked up a dee-lish-us stew! Is the pretty lady hungry?”

  The wizard and Lucius laughed heartily.

  But then Torg grew serious again. “I would take Laylah outside, but I’m not sure how she’ll react to the sunlight. And right now, she’s too fragile to take unnecessary risks. Go and eat, Lucius—and when you’re finished, please bring a little for me.”

  Once again, Lucius didn’t argue.

  AFTER LUCIUS left the cave, Torg grasped the thick ivory shaft of Obhasa and positioned its round head a finger-length above Laylah’s eyes. A sheet of blue-green flame fell upon her face, tenderly cleansing her skin and working its way into her hair, ruffling it like a warm breeze as it subtly vaporized filth and oils. Then Torg slid Obhasa downward, cleansing her breasts, underarms, abdomen, and legs. He gently rolled her onto her stomach and swept the staff along her back and buttocks. Eventually she was as clean as if she had taken a soapy bath.

  “I adore you, my love,” he whispered. “If it is within my power, you and I will never be parted. Do you doubt it?”

  She moaned in response, but did not awaken. For the rest of that day and night, she slept soundly. The others remained outside. Bard and Ugga scouted the surrounding terrain, searching for signs of the enemy. Finally Elu dared an appearance in the chamber, and when that went well, Rathburt came next. When Bard and Ugga returned, each also squeezed in for separate visits. Torg gave Laylah more water, and she even swallowed a sip of wine and a bit of broth from the stew.

  Early the next morning, the sorceress finally opened her eyes. At first, Torg didn’t believe what he was seeing, but then a pale light emanated from her pupils.

  “Beloved,” he heard her say, “is this another dream?”

  “Laylah, Laylah, Laylah,” was all he could manage. She closed her eyes again and slept. Around noon she sprang awake and announced she was hungry.

  Torg called for Elu, and the Svakaran reacted quickly with a bowl of soup made from wild onions and chitterlings.

  Laylah managed a few spoonfuls and then fell asleep again, as if drugged. When she woke later that afternoon, she became eager to leave the cave, needing to relieve herself somewhere in private. She managed to crawl shakily through the tunnel without aid. When she emerged, Lucius and the others applauded.

  Luckily, the sky was heavily overcast, so bright sunlight wasn’t a problem. Torg led Laylah to a nearby copse and left her there alone except for Obhasa, which thrummed and glowed as if pleased to assist her. Eventually she emerged on her own, using the staff as a walking stick. A cool breeze swirled through her silky hair. Her beauty nearly caused Torg to swoon.

  “You’re all staring at me like I’m an invalid,” Laylah said. But then she laughed. And they laughed with her.

  “Elu’s soup was good, but I didn’t get nearly enough. What else is there to eat? I’m starving.”

  As it turned out, there was plenty. Bard had slain a pair of geese with Mogol arrows loosed from Jord’s bow, and their bare carcasses were already roasting over a fire. They also had berries, nuts, and edible leaves and roots, which they found in abundance near the camp. When evening came, they sat together and feasted like royalty. For the first time in days, the rising of the moon did not seem to perturb Laylah, though she never released her grip on Obhasa.

  By the time they finished their meal, the sky had cleared. Laylah wandered from their camp, all the while staring at the moon. Torg nestled beside her. She wrapped an arm around his waist.

  “I was hoping you’d join me, beloved.”

  “You’re not worried about Lucius?”

  “When you’re with me, I don’t worry about anything.”

  Torg squeezed her shoulder. “What do you feel?”

  “Hmmm? I don’t understand.”

  “When you look at the moon . . . what do you feel?”

  “Aaaah. I thought you were asking how I felt about you. But that’s obvious, isn’t it?” She laughed softly. “As for the moon, the wrongness is gone. It feels friendly to me. Replenishing. Like it used to.”

  “I’m so pleased. Do you remember anything that happened the night of the eclipse?”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. But somehow I knew you were there. You saved my life.”

  “You saved yourself. I was humbled by your strength.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Torgon. I’m the one who’s humbled. I’ve done nothing in my life to deserve you.”

  “Now whose words are foolish? Let’s not waste our time on such talk. Instead, let’s discuss our future. If we’re to spend it together, we must find a way to survive the present. Though we’ve evaded the enemy for now, we remain in danger. The worst thing we can do is stay in one place too long. We’ve risked much with all these cook-fires. I hate to ask you this so soon, but I must. Do you feel strong enough to travel?”

  “To be honest, I’m looking forward to doing some walking, especially if you allow me to carry Obhasa. Just don’t be in too much of a hurry and leave me behind.”

  “Invictus himself could not force me to do that. What you really need is a month’s worth of pampering, but sadly we are not permitted such luxury. Let’s tell the others that it’s time to move on.”

  Lucius was incensed. “Are you insane? She’s barely able to stand, much less walk. How can you expect her to trek through these mountains in the dark? It’s too much to ask of a person who is well, much less Laylah, who’s barely recovered from her ordeal.”

  “Nonetheless, it must be done,” Torg said. “Thanks to Rathburt and Laylah, we escaped Mala and the wolves. But Invictus will not rest until we are captured. These mountains will soon be swarming with his minions. We must pass north of Duccarita and reach Dhutanga as soon as possible. Once there, we can decide whether to skirt the forest or venture on to Cariya. Either way leads to the White City.”

  “And if she drops dead of exhaustion?”

  Torg was about to say more, but Laylah interrupted. “Torg is not forcing me,” she said. “But I will do whatever he asks, without question. Against the threat of Invictus, he is my only hope—our only hope. For my sake and yours, you need to stop arguing with Torg and start doing what he says. He wants the best for all of us. Surely you can see that by now. He loves us.”

  “And we love ya too, Master Ogre . . . er . . . Hah-nah . . . er . . . what do we call ya, again?” Ugga said. “I gets confused.”

  “Call him Master Showoff,” Rathburt sa
id.

  They laughed, loud and hard.

  Even Lucius.

  2

  TO THE OTHERS the moon was a nuisance, providing too much light for prying eyes. But to Laylah the golden orb had returned to its former glory, nourishing her with strength and vitality. The wrongness she felt before the onset of the eclipse had vanished. For the first time in a long while, she felt whole.

  Thanks to the combined magic of the moon and Obhasa, Laylah grew steadier with each step. As Lucius had claimed, the mountain trails were treacherous, blanketed with exposed roots, jagged rocks, and muddy bogs. Low-hanging branches slapped at their faces. Sudden drop-offs appeared without warning. But Laylah thrived in this environment. Her years with the Ropakans had taught her how to survive in the mountains, whether day or night. And she still remembered these skills instinctively.

  Torg led the way. Elu also was capable—the diminutive Svakaran had proven to be a master of the wilderness—but the wizard was the only one among them who had wandered in the mountains this near Duccarita. Ugga and Bard appeared comfortable in any setting, and even whiny Rathburt was a capable woodsman. But Lucius encountered all kinds of problems. He was an army general used to open terrain. In this bony and vertiginous world, he was out of his element. Laylah felt sorry for him.

  When they reached a dip in the trail sheltered by tall pines, Torg suddenly stopped. In the oppressive darkness, the wizard’s eyes glowed like coals.

  “Do you hear them?” he whispered to his companions.

  Rathburt, of course, was the first to respond, his voice overly loud. “What are you babbling about now, Torgon? Hear what?”

  “The taunts of the demons.”

  “I doesn’t hear any demons,” Ugga said worriedly. “And I doesn’t want to. Where are the demons, Master Hah-nah? Are they somewhere near?”

  Laylah grasped Torg’s arm. “I don’t hear them, either.”

  To her surprise, Lucius spoke next. “Arupa-Loka is not far from where we stand. If we turned south, we could reach the Ghost City before dawn. Is that why you hear them, Torg?”

  But the wizard didn’t answer.

  Which, of course, annoyed Rathburt.

  “For Anna’s sake, someone please slap him!”

  “Be quiet, Rad-burt!” Bard said. “If Master Hah-nah needs to think, let him think.”

  “I think he’s gone crazy,” Rathburt responded.

  “She watches us,” said Torg, in a voice so deeply eerie that Ugga yelped.

  Elu tapped the wizard on the leg. “Who watches us, great one?”

  Torg’s facial muscles contorted. Laylah stroked his back to try to calm him, but he didn’t respond.

  “Beloved,” Laylah whispered. “You’re frightening us. Come back.”

  Not knowing what else to do, she gently touched the side of his face with Obhasa’s rounded head. Unexpectedly, a burst of energy leapt from the staff and sizzled between Torg’s eyes.

  The wizard tore the shaft from her hand with frightening strength.

  Lucius drew his uttara from its scabbard, but Laylah said, “No!”

  The wizard held the staff aloft and shouted words from the ancient tongue.

  “Dhiite! Dhiitaake!”

  Blue-green energy spiraled skyward, crackling as it ascended and leaving a column of smoke in its wake. A flock of bats sprang from the trees and flew in wild circles around the smoke, which resisted dissipation despite a strong breeze.

  Torg froze again, but his strange facial contortions continued.

  “He’ll kill us all,” Laylah heard Rathburt whisper.

  She couldn’t bear to see the wizard in such distress. Despite his fey mood, she flung herself against his chest. “Torg, I’m here. Come back to me!”

  The others watched with relief as Torg lowered the staff and gazed at her face. His body relaxed, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry, my love . . .”

  “Beloved . . .” she purred.

  Elu hugged Torg’s calf. “If the demons are hurting you, Elu will kill them all.”

  “You can’t kill a demon,” Rathburt said, his voice quivering. “They’re already dead. Well, sort of.” Then his characteristic annoyance again took hold. “Oh, forget it. Torgon, if you’ve finished terrifying us, would you mind telling us what just happened?”

  Torg seemed to take extra time to absorb the meaning of the question.

  “Let’s just say that I’m not as strong as I thought,” the wizard finally whispered. “For a moment, the demons were able to take hold of my mind. They are better . . . organized . . . than they used to be.”

  “Are the nasty demons going to get into my mind?” Ugga said.

  “We need to keep moving,” Lucius said with renewed annoyance in his voice. “We’re too near their stronghold.”

  “I agrees with Loo-shus,” Bard said. “Let’s run . . . far, far away.”

  Laylah listened in silence, then spoke directly to Torg. “You shouted words from the ancient tongue. I don’t know what they meant. What did the demons say that upset you so?”

  Torg shook his head. “Not now.” Then he turned to the rest of them. “Lucius is right. We need to get away. If the demons were to attack us here in the middle of the night . . .”

  After that, Torg would say no more, which seemed to annoy Rathburt, per usual. Instead, Torg handed Obhasa back to Laylah and led them hurriedly down the path, setting a pace that even Elu found difficult to match. Despite her newfound strength, Laylah struggled to catch her breath, her thighs burning from the exertion. Lucius fell almost out of sight. They went on this way for three torturous leagues.

  As much for the firstborn’s benefit as her own, Laylah finally said, “Torg, you must slow down. I’m too weak.”

  Torg halted. “Sometimes I forget who I am with,” he said apologetically. “The Asēkhas can march like this for days.”

  “Now he insults us,” snapped Rathburt, leaning heavily on his staff. “Not everyone is as robust as one of your precious Asēkhas, you know.”

  By now, Lucius had caught up. “Don’t slow down because of me,” he said, dripping with sweat despite the chilly night.

  “Dawn approaches,” Torg said. “Soon we’ll reach an area of flatland that will be easier to traverse. But also more dangerous. We’ve had a respite from the eyes of the enemy. They will be upon us again.”

  “If we continue in this direction, won’t it take us directly to Duccarita?” Lucius said between heaving gulps of air. “I thought you wanted to pass north of the city.”

  “You must trust my instincts,” Torg said. “Follow me just a little while longer. Then we can eat and rest up for tomorrow night.”

  “What happens then?” Lucius said.

  “We shall see what we shall see.”

  WHEN DAYLIGHT arrived, they settled in a rock shelter behind a small but robust waterfall. Once inside the stone chamber, Torg permitted them to dare a small fire, knowing the running water would filter out most of the smoke.

  Elu hurriedly made a wild vegetable stew that was not nearly to his usual standards, but at least it put something hot in their stomachs. After eating, they cast themselves onto their blankets and fell into deep sleep—except for Torg, who remained seated with his back against the sweating stone. Laylah lay with her head in his lap. He stroked her hair, admiring her beautiful face and flawless skin.

  One day, my love, all of this will be behind us . . .

  Torg closed his eyes and tried to rest, but his mind remained overly active, replaying the previous night’s encounter with the demons. Somehow they had homed in on his presence, bombarding his mind with an ugly torrent of threats and obscenities. The demons had remembered his previous visits to the Ghost City—but not fondly—and they had invited him to return and face them again.

  Do you dare, Death-Knower?

  Even as Torg struggled to thwart their assault, another voice rose above the tumult, causing him a different kind of pain.

  “Dhiite! Dhiitaake!” he h
ad cried in response to the voice, unwittingly unleashing a powerful blast of chaotic energy from Obhasa. Without Laylah’s assistance, he might have put on a display that would have alerted anyone within ten leagues. Just in time, she had brought him back.

  During his psychic battle with the demons, a terrible secret was unveiled, staggering Torg with its ramifications. When and how he would reveal what he knew to Laylah and the others was unclear. He wished he could speak to Sister Tathagata, whose insights always aided him.

  Movement outside the chamber interrupted Torg’s thoughts.

  Ugga and Bard murmured in their sleep, as if a ghostly visitor disturbed them. It took Torg a moment to realize that someone—or something—was standing on the other side of the waterfall, just a few cubits from where he sat. The large figure cast a wobbling shadow. Torg believed the being contained formidable power, but he did not sense evil.

  He rested Laylah’s head on a rolled-up blanket and placed Obhasa in the crook of her arm. Then he strapped the Silver Sword to his back and left the shelter with the silent grace of a Tugar.

  Torg stepped through the sheet of water. Temporarily he was soaked, but he dried his hair and clothes with blue-green flames. To his right was an odd-shaped boulder, with a curved finger of rock protruding from its side. Perched upon it was the largest mountain eagle Torg had ever seen. Other than its extraordinary size, its appearance was not unusual: dark-brown plumage with a golden wash over its head and neck. But then he noticed that its glowing eyes were the color of pine needles, and they gazed at Torg with a fierce intelligence. Torg recognized those eyes. They belonged to the white-haired woman named Jord who had watched—for centuries—over Ugga and Bard in the foothills of the northern mountains.

  “Jord?” he whispered. Then he approached within a single pace. The eagle lowered its hooked beak until it touched the tip of his nose.