Demon Lord IV - Lord of Shadows (22 page)

Several hours
passed before anyone came in, and then it was the two droges, who
set out a feast on the table by the fire in preparation for the
goddess' needs. Droges such as she did not require food, but ate
for enjoyment. When the two men had finished setting up the table,
they came over to the bed and used the manacles to pull his arms
and legs apart until he was spread-eagled, then chained his wrists
and ankles to the bed posts.

Bane sighed as
they left. This was typical of a dark goddess, who had similar
tastes to their male counterparts. Subjugation and torture, which
made the victim desperate to please their captor in order to avoid
more pain. It hampered him, however, since he must take hold of
Jishka, or she would escape.

Another hour
passed before Jishka entered, several female droges accompanying
her. The droges came over to the bed to examine him, giggling and
stroking him with their warm, lifeless hands. They unlaced his
shirt and examined his wound, pinching and poking him. This was
evidently intended to wake him up, and he decided to oblige, if
only to stop their abuse.

Bane opened
his eyes, and the droges recoiled with squeals of laughter and
surprise. Jishka turned from the table, where she sampled the
food.

"He is awake,
goddess," one of the droges said.

Jishka
approached the bed, smiling. Bane glanced around the room as if
seeing it for the first time, then jerked at the chains.

"Where am I?"
he demanded.

"You are my
prisoner, mage."

"And who are
you?"

"I am
Jishka."

Bane looked at
the droges, and then tugged at the chains again. "What are you
going to do to me?"

"A little
sport, then you will be sacrificed."

Her candour
surprised him, as did her air of melancholy. "You are going to kill
me?"

She tilted her
head, studying him. "It does seem a waste. You are handsome. What
is your name?"

"Ravan."

"Perhaps you
would like to become a black mage, Ravan."

Bane gazed at
her, struck by her incredible, unreal beauty. Rich, gleaming dark
red hair framed a face of perfect symmetry and chiselled features
with a full, sculpted mouth and bright green eyes set in flawless,
milk-pale skin. The perfection of a dark goddess, much like his
own. Any man would fall at her feet to worship such loveliness,
even though it was false. Her allure was potent, and he found
himself unable to look away. She smiled, revealing even white
teeth.

"You think me
beautiful, Ravan?"

"Yes."

"Would you
like to lie with me?"

"Yes."

She giggled.
"Of course you would. And you are handsome indeed, almost worthy of
me. But if I lie with you, the dark power will take you."

"I do not
care."

"Strange for a
blue mage to be so easily swayed."

He allowed his
eyes to roam over her, taking in the swell of her breasts and the
curve of her hips, which the clinging gold gown revealed in detail.
"Never have I seen such beauty. For you it would be worth it."

"And better
than death?"

"Much
better."

She stroked
his cheek. "The dark power will make you even more handsome
too."

"If you spare
me, I would worship you."

Jishka stepped
closer, clearly as captivated by him as he pretended to be with
her, and it was not totally pretence. "And would you defend
me?"

"Yes."

Her eyes slid
over him. "You would be a powerful warlock, once you have learnt to
master the dark power." She swung away, breaking the spell that had
formed between them. "What were you doing in the forest?"

He frowned,
feigning confusion. "I do not remember."

"You have been
in a fight. Who was it with?"

"I do not
remember."

She turned to
face him again. "Perhaps your loss of memory is a good thing. You
do not remember your loyalties."

"I can
remember nothing before I woke here."

"Except your
name."

"Yes."

Jishka came
closer again and gazed down at him, then dismissed the droges with
a jerk of her head. They filed out, shutting the door. Jishka went
to the table and filled a plate with food, then returned.

"Are you
hungry?"

"Yes."

She sat on the
bed beside him, and he glanced at the shackles on his wrists. "Will
you not release me?"

"Not yet."

"Why?"

Her eyes
roamed over him. "I like you this way." She held out a delicate
pastry filled with sweet fruit, and he took it from her fingers,
his lips brushing them. He was not terribly skilled in the arts of
seduction. His only experience, apart from Mirra, was with the
droges in the Underworld when he had been young. They had been the
seducers, however, and he had been their toy, he now knew. He let
his instincts guide him, knowledge that came from the font of
wisdom that his godhood bequeathed him. He licked his lips and let
his eyes linger on hers, filled with what he hoped was
invitation.

"I wish I
could touch you."

She smiled. "I
may let you, in time."

Bane
suppressed a sigh. He had moved them swiftly from torturer and
victim to potential lovers, but Jishka was being overly cautious,
and he wondered why. A blue mage had no hope of harming her, but
perhaps she suspected that he would try, in order make her kill him
now and avoid becoming a sacrifice.

"You think I
am lying," he challenged.

"It seems odd
that you should be so willing, even without memories."

He looked
away. "I do not want to be butchered on your altar."

"And to avoid
that you would become a black mage."

"Yes."

"You are lying
again."

Bane glanced
at her. "If you knew I was lying, why did you go along with
it?"

She smiled,
leaning closer. "It amused me."

"Then you have
no intention of letting me live?"

"I might, if
you prove to be an amusing toy."

Bane wanted to
laugh. He had done the exact same thing with Mirra, only he had
fallen in love with her. It seemed that Jishka had already fallen
foul of his charms, and was unwilling to kill him.

Jishka gazed
at him. "That amuses you?"

Bane changed
tactics. "I am not a toy."

"To me, you
are."

"Come closer
and play with me then."

She wanted to,
he could see it in her eyes and in the way she licked her lips.
Putting aside the plate, she stepped closer and trailed her fingers
across his chest. The illusory wound was hidden under his shirt,
and she seemed to have forgotten about it.

"Come closer,"
he whispered.

Jishka leant
over him, laying her arm across his chest, her other hand caressing
his cheek. She was oddly gentle for a dark goddess, he mused. She
seemed to long for fulfilment more, and he suspected that she hated
Vorkon even more than most.

"What were
you, before Vorkon took you?"

She recoiled
at the mention of the dark god's name, her face hardening. "I was a
princess. Daughter of the Duke of Daord."

"He killed
your father."

"My entire
family, while I watched."

"You were a
maiden."

She nodded.
"He defiled me."

"Then you are
not bound to him."

"I serve
him."

Bane closed
his eyes. Her soul was a dark red glow, utterly corrupted, yet she
was a victim of the dark power, its pawn. Now that Vorkon was
locked away, she longed for a partner of her own choosing, and
would have no compunction about corrupting him for that purpose. He
wondered if there was any way to save her, but discarded the
notion. It was hopeless, but he pitied her, and hated what Vorkon
had done to her, so much like what Arkonen had tried to do to
him.

Syrin stood in
a Channel above and to the right of the bed, the closest one she
could find to it, watching the scene below her with growing dismay.
Her instincts warned her that Jishka was lying, yet Bane seemed to
believe her. That was dangerous. She could tell that his resolve to
destroy Jishka was weakening, and he was starting to pity her. The
angel frowned as she realised that without the dark power, Bane was
a gentle man, perhaps even a little gullible, uneducated in the
deceitful ways of men, let alone dark goddesses. Jishka mocked him
with her lies, lulling him into a state of acceptance and false
security, then she would strike. From her vantage in the Channel,
Syrin could see what Bane had been unable to when he had been
dragged to the bed and dumped on it.

Beneath the
satin covers was a stone plinth carved with runes and arcane
symbols of power. A sacrificial altar. He was already prepared for
sacrifice, and if Jishka killed him at the moment when he was open
to her power, his soul would be corrupted and flung into the
Darkworld. Except that he was tar'merin. Yet, while that protected
him from damnation, it would not prevent his death. With the
goddess so close to him, however, there was no way to warn him of
his danger.

Communication
between angels and gods was one way, so she could not pray to him.
She toyed with the idea of finding someone who could, but that
would mean leaving his side for several minutes, and in that time
he might be killed. If she stayed, she might be able to prevent
that, even if it meant that Jishka would escape. She hooked her
fingers into the Channel's wall, ready to tear it open and step
forth if necessary.

Jishka leant
over Bane, feeding him sugared fruits, licking her lips and fingers
as she drew him deeper into her deceitful spell. It sickened Syrin,
who longed to step out and spoil the seduction, if only to put an
end to the nauseating sight. Jishka leant closer, her gown slipping
off one shoulder, and Bane seemed to enjoy it, smiling as if
entranced. Jishka slid her hands over his chest, tracing its
contours and gliding up his neck to twine in his hair.

"We could be
together always, Ravan," she murmured, smiling coyly.

"Yes."

"I could raise
you up, make you a dark god."

"You have the
power?"

"Of course,"
she caressed his chest. "I have plenty of power. Would you like
that?"

"Yes, very
much." He tugged at the chains again. "Free me, so that I can touch
you."

"Soon."

"Do you think
I would hurt you?"

She giggled.
"You cannot."

"Then why
-"

"Hush." She
pushed another sugary fruit into his mouth. "I want you to love me,
Ravan. Do you not want to please me?"

"Of
course."

"This pleases
me." She ran her hand up his arm to touch the manacle around his
wrist. "To have one so strong, yet so helpless fills me with
desire."

"Tell me how
you will make me a dark god."

"One step at a
time." She stroked his cheek. "First, you must let the dark power
enter your flesh, and it will change you. You will learn to use it,
and it will seduce you. But before that, you will have to stop
lying to me."

He sighed. "If
I fight you, you will kill me. I choose to live, even if I do not
like what you offer in return for my life. Is that such a lie?"

"Most of your
kind would rather die than worship the dark power."

"I do not
remember who I am."

"Good." She
sat up. "Are you ready to accept the dark power into your
body?"

"If I
must."

"If you wish
to live, you must."

"Then I
will."

Jishka stood
up and let the dress fall into a rippled pool of gold at her feet,
stepping out of it. The rest of her was as perfect as her face, and
she smiled as she returned to Bane's side, confident of her
conquest. She sat beside him and leant close to run her hands over
him, satisfied that he was now at her mercy, and open to her
power.

Syrin's
fingers tightened in the substance of the Channel, tension rising
in her. Bane appeared to be relaxed, his eyes half closed, his lips
curved in a trusting smile. This was the moment that Jishka had
been waiting for, the moment when she could strike and claim his
soul. She lowered herself onto his chest, as lissom as a snake, and
as deadly. One hand slid up to his neck, the other delved into the
satin sheets beside her. When she raised it, a long golden dagger
glinted in her fist, and she brought it down in a blur of motion.
Syrin gave a choked cry and started to tear a door in the
channel.

Bane's eyes
flicked up to the weapon, widening slightly, and time stopped.
Jishka froze, the dagger poised inches above his chest as he
writhed, his arms becoming rigid with tension. The chains held him
for only an instant, then snapped with dull reports. His hands
lashed forward with all the power that had broken the chains,
smashing into Jishka's shoulders so hard that they sank into the
droge flesh as if it was putty. The dagger was knocked from her
hand, then Bane's hold on time broke, and she screamed. Bane
gripped her shoulders, which reformed swiftly to their smooth
perfection. Syrin closed the doorway she had opened in the Channel.
Bane sat up, and his nostrils flared as he looked down at
Jishka.

"Do anything
stupid, goddess, and I will destroy you."

The illusions
faded, and her eyes widened, filling with terror as she gazed upon
the unmistakeable countenance of a dark god.

"You!
But..."

"Yes, me. It
seems that Vorkon neglected to tell you about my odd little quirks.
Such as... I am mortal."

"No. He warned
me."

Bane nodded.
"But you did not expect me to come here without my power.
Unthinkable for one such as you, who are made of it."

Jishka
struggled, but his hands tightened, sank into her flesh and made
her gasp. Her droge form felt pain, just as it enjoyed pleasure,
otherwise it would have been useless to her.