caught her in the rib cage, knocking the air out of her.
Even injured she growled and tried to fight. But now he had her by the scruff of the neck. He pinned her to the wall and strangled her into submission.
It was a good fight from such a small girl-well timed and ruthless. She was not just a victim waiting to go to her death. She d planned this all along!
She d lured him into the corridor, waited until they were in a lonely stretch of the warrens, and then done her best to leave him lying in a pool of blood.
Doubtless, she had some plan for escape.
Cullossax laughed. He admired her feistiness. When she was barely conscious, he reached into her tunic and felt for more weapons. All he felt was her soft flesh, but a thorough search turned up a second dagger in her boot.
He threw them down the corridor, and as the girl began to come to, he put her in a painful wristlock and walked her to her death, whimpering and pleading.
'I hate you,' she cried, weeping bitter tears. 'I hate the world you ve created. I m going to destroy it, and build a better one in its place.'
It was such a grandiose notion-one little wyrmling girl planning to change the world-that he had to laugh. 'It is not I who made this world.'
'You support it,' she accused. 'You re as guilty as the rest!'
It happened that way sometimes. Those who were about to die would search for someone to accuse, rather than take responsibility for their own stupidity or weakness.
But it was not Cullossax who had created her world. It was the Great Wyrm, whom some said had finally taken a new form, and now walked the halls of Rugassa.
As they descended some stairs, a fellow tormentor who was climbing up from below called Cullossax to a halt. 'Have you heard the news?'
'What news?' Cullossax asked. He did not know the man well, but tormentors all belonged to a Shadow Order, a secret fraternity, and had sworn bloody oaths to protect one another and uphold one another and to promote one another s interests, even in murder. Thus, as a tormentor, this man was a brother to him.
'Despair has taken a new body, and now walks the labyrinth, displaying miraculous powers. As one of his first acts, he has devised a new form of torture, surpassing our finest arts. You should see!'
Cullossax stood for a moment, overwhelmed. The Great Wyrm walked among them? He still could not believe it. Obviously, with the binding of the worlds, Despair felt the need to confirm his supremacy.
The very thought filled Cullossax with awe. This was a great time to be alive.
'So,' Cullossax teased, 'Despair wants our jobs?'
The tormentor laughed at the jest, then seemed to get an idea. 'You are taking the girl to be slaughtered?'
'Yes,' Cullossax said.
'Take her to the dungeons instead, to the Black Cell. There you will find Vulgnash, the Knight Eternal. He has had a long flight and needs to feed. The girl s life should be sweet to him.'
The girl suddenly tried to rip free, for being consumed by a Knight Eternal was a fate worse than death.
Cullossax grabbed the girl s wrist, holding her tight. She bit him and clawed at him, but he paid her no mind.
Cullossax hesitated. A Knight Eternal had no life of his own. Monsters like him did not need to breathe or eat or drink. Vulgnash could not gain nourishment by digesting flesh. Instead, he drew life from others, consuming their spiritual essence-their hopes and longings.
Cullossax had provided the Knight Eternal with children before. Watching the monster feed was like watching an adder consume a rat.
In his mind s eye, Cullossax remembered a feeding from five years ago. Then Vulgnash, draped in his crimson robes, had taken a young boy.
Like this girl, the boy had screamed in terror and struggled with renewed fury as they neared Vulgnash s lair.
'Ah,' Vulgnash had whispered, his wings quivering slightly in anticipation, 'just in time.'
Then Vulgnash had turned and totally focused on his victim. He seemed unaware that Cullossax was watching.
The boy had cried and backed away into a corner, and every muscle of Vulgnash s body was taut, charged with power, lest the child try to run.
The boy did bolt, but Vulgnash lashed out and caught him, shoved him into the corner, and touched the child on the forehead-Vulgnash s middle finger resting between the child s eyes, his thumb and pinky on the boy s mandibles, and a finger in each eye.
Normally when a child was so touched, he ceased to fight. Like a mouse that is filled with scorpion s venom, he would go limp.
But this boy fought. The child grabbed Vulgnash s wrist and tried to shove him away. Vulgnash seized the boy by the throat with his left hand then, and maintained his grip with the right. The child bit at the Knight Eternal s wrist, fighting valiantly.
'Ah, a worthy one!' Vulgnash enthused.
The boy tried twisting away. He began to scream, almost breaking Vulgnash s grasp. There was a world of panic in the child s eyes.
'Why?' the child screamed. 'Why does it have to be this way?'
'Because I hunger,' Vulgnash had said, shoving the boy into the corner, holding him fast. As the boy s essence began to drain, he shrieked in panic and shook his head, trying to break free of the monster s touch. All hope and light drained from his face, and was replaced by an endless well of despair. His cries of terror changed into a throaty wail. He kicked and fought for a long moment while Vulgnash merely held him up against the wall.
The Knight Eternal leaned close, his mouth inches from the boy s, and then began to inhale, making a hissing sound.
Cullossax had seen a thin light, like a mist, draining away from the child into Vulgnash s mouth.
Slowly, the child quit struggling, until at last his legs stopped kicking altogether. When the Knight Eternal was done, he d dropped the child s limp body.
The boy lay in a heap, staring up into some private horror worse than any nightmare, barely breathing.
'Ah, that was refreshing,' Vulgnash said. 'Few souls are so strong.'
Cullossax had stood for a moment, unsure what to do. Vulgnash jutted a chin toward the boy. 'Get rid of the carcass.'
Cullossax then grabbed the limp form and began dragging it up the corridor. The boy still breathed, and he moaned a bit, as if in terror.
Grabbing the child s head, Cullossax had given it a quick twist up and to the right, ending the child s life, and his torment.
Thus, Cullossax knew how this feeding would turn out. The Knight Eternal would put a hand over this girl s pretty face, lean in close, almost as if to kiss, and with one indrawn hiss he would drain the life from her. He would take all of her hope and aspiration, all of her enjoyment and serenity.
Realizing her fate, the girl fought to break free. She jerked her hand again and again, trying to break Cullossax s grasp, but Cullossax seized the child s wrist, digging the joint of his thumb into the ganglia of the girl s wrist until her knees gave out from the pain.
He wanted to see this new form of torture, so he dragged her to the dungeon.
'Please,' she cried. 'Take me back to the creche. I ll listen to the dogmatist! I ll do anything. I promise!'
But it was too late. The girl had chosen her fate. She let her knees buckle, refusing to walk any farther. Cullossax dragged the girl now, his fingernails biting into her flesh as she whimpered and pleaded and tried to grab the legs of passersby.
'We don t have to live like this!' the girl said. 'Inkarra does exist!'
That gave Cullossax pause. Could it be that there was a land without the Death Lords, without the empire? Could it be that people there lived pleasant lives without care?
