Kiss of a Demon King

Just when Rydstrom made a charge to end this, Omort snatched off' his cape, throwing it over Ryd­strom's head.

His vision obscured, Rydstrom leapt back, snatching at the material, just dodging the worst of Omort's next blow. The blade of fire cleaved through Rydstrom's shirt, searing a line across his chest.

The sorcerer came in for the kill right as he was able to see once more. Rydstrom switched sword hands as he twisted around, then swung a backhanded blow.

It landed true. Omort's head thudded to the floor. His corpse dropped to its knees before slumping to the ground.

Need to get to Sabine. But Rydstrom couldn't repeat the mistake he'd made the last time he'd faced this foe. He forced himself to wait for the space of several heart­beats.

These moments feel longer than the nine hundred years I've waited for this. . . .

The sorcerer did not regenerate. A wall of hanging tablets came crashing down, splintering across the floor. With the death of their master, the revenants dropped

ail around them.

Rydstrom clutched the hilt of the sword in thanks as he charged for Sabine. The weapon had fulfilled its

fated task.

Lanthe murmured, 'No longer deathless-'

Suddenly, the great doors of the court began bowing as fire demons fought to get inside. Rydstrom skidded to a stop, swinging around, readying for battle once more.

Over his shoulder, he said to Lanthe. 'Still noth­ing?'

'No, but if we can make it out of here alive, we can

get to the Hag-'

The doors began to smoke, then burn. Soon the remaining warriors of the Pravus, mainly fire demons, rushed in. The tide slowed when they spied Omort the Deathless, sprawled beheaded by his throne.

The call arose among the fire demons to take the castle. They surrounded Rydstrom, raising their palms alight with flames. With this many combining fire, they could kill him. Too many . . .

Rydstrom heard Sabine scream again as the pain

hit-Suddenly, the fire demons' attention shifted from

Rydstrom to something behind him. 'Need some help?' Cadeon called. When Rydstrom twisted around, he found his

brother-and Cadeon's entire crew of mercenaries-

here and looking bloodthirsty.

It hit Rydstrom then-with Omort's death, Cadeon could trace once more. And he'd led his men here.

Just as the mercenaries attacked, Sabine screamed again. Rydstrom charged for her, battering any oppo­ nents in his way. When he reached her, he shoved the sword in his belt, then cradled her in his arms. She'd gone unconscious.

Lanthe said, 'We have to find the Hag! She's the only one who can cure her.'

Rydstrom whisked Sabine up, storming from the court. Over his shoulder, he yelled, 'Cadeon! Taking her for help!'

'I've got this!' his brother called back as he slashed at opponents with abandon. 'I have some experience against these fucks! And I'm out for fire demon blood.'

Lanthe was right behind Rydstrom as they rushed for the exit. 'Demon, head for the base-'

She was abruptly cut off. When Rydstrom swung around, he saw her skidding across the floor.

A wild-eyed Hettiah had tackled her, blocking her way to the door. 'You and your sister will pay!'

Lanthe snatched up a sword from a fallen revenant. 'Take Sabine! Go!'

Rydstrom turned, barreling down the corridor stairs, before remembering he could now teleport as well. He traced Sabine into the bowels of the castle. But there were chambers everywhere, connected by a twisting labyrinth of passages. He turned in a circle, bellowing, 'Hag, where the hell are you?'

'In here,' she called. He followed the sound of her voice to a chamber that was exactly like he imagined a poisoner's laboratory. Atop long tables were dissected creatures, fermenting potions, bubbling brews. Bats' wings and frogs' legs hung from the ceiling.

The Hag, however, was not what he was expecting. Instead of the crone, a pretty elven brunette stood before him, the woman he'd glimpsed before.

And she was packing.

'Save her . . .' Rydstrom rasped. 'You have to save

her.'

Without glancing up, she said, 'And why should I?' 'Because I defeated Omort. I think his death has

freed you.'

'Well, there is that.' She met his gaze. 'For five hundred years, I've waited for the sorcerer's curse to end. Lay Sabine on the table.' Rooting through a safe, she withdrew two wooden cases, opening the first one. Within it lay a vial of black liquid.

When the Hag offered the antidote, Rydstrom accepted it, then propped Sabine up, holding the vial to her pale lips. He glanced at the Hag. 'Do you vow this will cure her?'

'Cure her of the morsus? Yes, I vow it. But I can't help her with the bitchiness.'

He scowled at her, then dripped the contents between Sabine's lips.

Waiting . . . nothing . . . 'Why's it not doing any­thing?' he snapped.

She shook her head, baffled. 'It should have worked by now. It must be too late.'

48

Are her cheeks pinkening? Is she healing?'

 Sabine heard Rydstrom's harried voice as she

woke by degrees.

'They are.' Was that the Hag? 'It figures the sorcer­ess would milk the tension for all it was worth.'

When Sabine murmured Rydstrom's name, he exhaled. 'Ah, gods, cwena. I'm here with you.' When she opened her eyes, she found his were fierce but tender as he gazed down at her. He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek.

The Hag muttered, 'I'll leave you two alone.'

'Wait,' Sabine said. Who was this female that sounded like the Hag? Was this the Hag? 'Where's Lanthe's cure?'

'I left her vial on the table beside the rhinoceros testicles.'

'Oh.' Free. They were finally free of Omort. Of the poison that had befouled their blood. And the Hag was apparently free as well. 'How is it that you are . . . different?'

'Omort stole my foresight, cursing me to live as a crone in this hellhole. All for a foretelling I gave about a sorceress Omort would fall in love with. At least, as much as he was capable of it. Sabine, your brother didn't seek you out for the demon-he sought you for himself. But as soon as I saw you, the prophecy came to me that you and the demon king would wed and have a son who would unlock the well's power.'

'But not in the way Omort said?' Sabine asked.

'Not in the least. Omort used the prophecy, embel-lished on it, until even he believed his own lies. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a portal to catch. And I'm five hundred years late for a date.'

'But wait-'

'The battle's still going on upstairs, sorceress.' She swept out of the room.

Sabine turned to Rydstrom. 'Trace me to my sister!'

In an instant, he traced her to the court. But Lanthe had already felled Hettiah and was kicking her lifeless body, telling it, 'For centuries, I put up with your shit! Day after day!'