Chained By Fear: 2 Read online

  “How can you know this?”

  “Eso aham himamahaakaayo (I am a snow giant),” he said, as if that explained all.

  The next time Lucius saw Yama-Deva, the snow giant no longer existed. Mala, a.k.a. the Chain Man, stood in his place. Soon Lucius recognized that his days as the king’s right hand were over. In some ways, he no longer cared. But in others, he was appalled. Yama-Deva had been such a wondrous creature, and now he was the epitome of evil. It was an affront to anything sane. This pleased Invictus, of course. In his twisted mind, ten years of torture and humiliation finally had paid off.

  Lucius still loved Invictus. How could he not love the being that gave him life?

  But he also despised him. How could he not despise the being that introduced him to evil?

  As the seeds of traitorous thought were taking root in Lucius’ mind, he soon discovered that Izumo also was turning against the sorcerer—and for a similar reason. As he later described to Lucius in great detail, Izumo had adored Yama-Deva from the first moment he saw him foraging for roots in the foothills of Okkanti. When the slave-hunting expedition encircled him, Yama-Deva barely put up a fight. But Izumo could sense it had nothing to do with cowardice. Instead, it appeared as if the creature had failed to resist out of concern for the welfare of his assailants. This had impressed the dracool. Only a being of extreme intelligence could be so selfless.

  Lucius knew that dracools were called baby dragons because of their similar appearance to real dragons but much smaller size. Indeed, dracools and dragons shared common traits—a lizard-shaped snout, heavily scaled flesh, flexible necks and tails, and powerful wings—but their commonality did not breed respect. In fact, they hated each other intensely. Dragons enjoyed eating dracools, for one thing, and they considered themselves superior not just in size, but in intelligence. Dracools, on the other hand, claimed to be the most learned beings alive, and they classified dragons as crude bullies. Great dragons were more than twenty times larger, but dracools were more numerous. Gatherings of dracools often killed great dragons in battle.

  Since they were long-lived, dracools had witnessed the rise and fall of many kingdoms. Like mercenaries, they tended to ally themselves with whoever appeared most powerful at the time, making Invictus an irresistible lure. But there was more. The sorcerer was the first being in an eon that possessed knowledge beyond their awareness. To the dracools, meeting the sorcerer was like discovering a library full of previously unread books.

  Dracools did not give much credence to the concepts of good and evil. In their minds, erudition and strength were good, obliviousness and weakness, evil. In other words, an intelligent devil was superior to an ignorant saint. Invictus’ sadism and perversion meant little in terms of how they judged him.

  But wasteful behavior was another matter, and dracools viewed it with disdain, regardless of the circumstances. When Izumo watched Invictus systematically destroy Yama-Deva, he began to lose respect for the king. Orgies and bloodbaths with meaningless slaves were one thing; mutilating a creature with so much to offer was another. The dracool told Lucius that he had been looking forward to spending long years with the snow giant, who was impressively wise in his own ways. Yama-Deva also was like a library, but instead of magic, potions, and spells, the snow giant burst with placidity. After the sorcerer ruined him, Deva had become a loud-mouthed buffoon.

  And the dracool became Invictus’ enemy.

  Lucius and Izumo discovered the similarity of their feelings by accident. While the two of them were overseeing a series of military exercises ten leagues east of Avici, Mala had approached and lambasted them for not following one of his inane dictates regarding troop deployment.

  “What part of my order did you not understand?” Mala said to Lucius, towering over him as if he were a child.

  Lucius removed his helm. “The cohorts on the right flank were too loosely assembled,” the firstborn said, attempting to appear defiant—but trembling, nonetheless. “Jivitan horsemen could penetrate too easily. I ordered a tighter formation to mimic the left flank. Am I deemed incapable of modifying a command when I see fit?”

  The Chain Man’s swollen eyes sprang wide open. Vile liquids oozed from their sockets. He turned his rage on Izumo.

  “You delivered Lucius’ revision to the commander on the field,” Mala said. “Did you not understand my command?”

  “I’ve followed General Lucius’ orders since I arrived in Avici,” Izumo said.

  Mala became so angry, molten gobs spewed from his chain. To avoid being scorched, Lucius dove sideways and Izumo sprang backward, barely dodging the acidic fusillade. Before Lucius could stand, the Chain Man leapt upon him, grabbing his armor at the shoulders and lifting him five cubits off the ground. Izumo took to the air, hovering just out of Mala’s reach.

  “Listen to me,” the Chain Man said to Lucius, easily loud enough for Izumo to hear. “I know things neither of you know. There are reasons I do what I do. I want the soldiers to march until they’re exhausted . . . and nothing more! Do you understand? If you ever modify my commands again, I’ll shove my fist up your bony ass, grab your tongue, and yank it back between your cheeks. And the same goes for you, dracool. I don’t know how to make it any clearer. I am General Lucius’ superior in all ways. I am the superior of every member of this army and of every being who dwells in Avici and Kilesa. I am superior to all, save Invictus.”

  Mala then tossed Lucius onto the grass. “Now, if you wish to challenge my superiority, here’s your chance. It’s two against one. No others are near enough to aid me. Fight me . . . if you dare.”

  Izumo continued to hover but did not come closer. Lucius stood up, brushing blades of grass off his armor, but he too remained in place.

  The Chain Man stared at them both—and then laughed. “As I thought . . . a pair of worthless weaklings.” Then he pointed at Lucius. “I knew you didn’t have the courage to change.” Mala paused. “But I don’t want anyone saying I’m not fair. If either of you wishes to pursue this further, feel free to go to Invictus and complain in person. Otherwise, heed my warning. If you disobey me again, I will end your lives.”

  Mala stomped away, leaving Lucius and Izumo to mull over their cowardice together.

  The dracool landed next to the firstborn. “Your face is red and very swollen,” he said to Lucius. “Are you injured?”

  “Only my pride,” Lucius said, though he did feel peculiar, almost feverish. “Without Invictus’ backing, I’m no match for Mala. And he knows full well that Invictus loves him more than me . . . or anyone.”

  “The other members of my flock still support the sorcerer, but I can no longer tolerate his behavior,” Izumo said. “My time in Avici is nearing its end.”

  “Mine too. But when I leave, I plan on bringing someone with me.”

  “Who might that be?”

  “Laylah.”

  “The queen? Invictus watches her every move. You might be able to escape. But Laylah? Never.”

  “I admit I don’t have much of a plan,” Lucius said. “In fact, I just this moment made this decision. But Laylah wants to go, and I’ll do my best to aid her.”

  “Are you in love with her?”

  Lucius sighed. “Indeed, I am.”

  “Well then, consider me your ally.”

  This amazed Lucius, but he was in no mood to turn down such a valiant offer. “We dare not move quickly. Invictus can read minds—and mine the easiest of all, for I am born from his blood. We must not speak of this again for a long time. Exactly one year from now, let’s meet at this same spot at midnight and talk briefly. Otherwise we’ll do as we’re told.”

  “One year from now . . .” Izumo said, before springing into the sky.

  Afterward Lucius had stood alone, viewing the proceedings from a lonely and dangerous place.

  14

  Laylah’s wine tasted especially bitter. But that wasn’t unusual. In her life all things had become bitter: the dreadful and relentless lack of freedom; the cons
tant fear and anxiety. How much longer could she bear it? How many more years? Months? Weeks? Days? Breaths?

  She now had been a prisoner in Avici for sixty years. She knew this not because she had kept count, but because her “return,” as Invictus liked to call it, was marked on the Avician calendar, which recognized Day 1, Year 1 as her brother’s first birthday. It now was Day 1, Year 88, her brother’s 88th birthday. To celebrate this grand occasion, he had held a midday feast in the main banquet room of Uccheda. One thousand soldiers, dignitaries, high-ranking civilians and the usual menagerie of monsters filled a great circular table. Laylah sat on Invictus’ left, while Mala squatted on the floor at his right, stink wafting off his tortured flesh.

  The main course was garlic beef ribs crusted with bread crumbs and served with salted potatoes, roasted corn and dark bread. Servitors presented the meal on silver platters and poured the wine into glass goblets imbedded with diamond chips. Mala ate mounds of ribs, eschewing the vegetables and bread.

  “I want my next serving to be rare,” he bellowed. “How many times do I have to say it?”

  “If it were any rarer,” Laylah said, “it would be raw.”

  “Exactly!”

  Invictus laughed. Her brother was in an excellent mood—and on this day he was treating her with respect, which made Laylah distrust him even more.

  “Mala does not have your sensibilities, my dear sister. Concentrate your attentions on General Lucius, who has impeccable manners.”

  Lucius sat on Laylah’s left, but during the meal he had stared straight ahead and said only a few words. That was part of their plan. They now communicated blandly, and then only late at night when Invictus was underground and Mala had gone to Kilesa or was traveling the wilds with the slave hunters.

  If Invictus suspected that Lucius was a traitor, he would execute the general, ruining any hopes of her escaping. But as it turned out, their best chance of success had come not from Lucius, but from a strange occurrence Izumo had described hastily but in detail. The dracool had been on a nightly patrol above Avici, flying in circles over the city, when a tasty bird had flapped close by. Izumo lunged for it, but the bird easily evaded him and then flew alongside, unafraid. Izumo realized this was no ordinary creature.

  “What business have you with me?”

  “How nice of you to notice me, Dracool-Izumo,” the bird said.

  “Do I know you?”

  “The dracools know me well. I am Vedana, mother of all demons.”

  This frightened Izumo, but he tried not to show it. “It’s safe to assume you haven’t come to kill me. If so, the deed would have occurred already. But why would one as great as you wish to speak to me? Might it have something to do with your grandson?”

  The bird cackled, its black beak moving like soft clay in the darkness. “He’s a troublesome boy,” Vedana said. “Too big for his britches. Spoiled, too. In the ancient tongue, he’d be called nikkaruna.”

  “I speak the ancient tongue as well as any,” Izumo said. “Nikkaruna translates rather loosely as heartless.”

  “Heartless, he is,” Vedana said. “The only problem is—as I’m sure you’ve discovered—he’s also disturbingly strong. Even I’ve been forced to cower in the shadows, which does not suit me.”

  “And you need my help? What could a baby dragon possibly offer the most vaunted of demons?”

  “It’s not what you offer me. It’s what I offer you. Invictus is not yet aware of your . . . how should we say? . . . conspiracy.”

  “Why do you rave? It does not become you.”

  The bird cackled again. “Do not be dismayed. You and I are on the same side. My grandson has angered me, and I don’t handle anger well. It makes me petty and vengeful. I’ve been watching carefully from my little hidey-hole. As it turns out, you and Lucius have provided me with an amusing opportunity to further injure him.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “As I’m sure you know, Invictus is Akanittha. Being such an expert in the ancient tongue, you know the meaning of that word. With each sunrise his strength grows. However, he does have one weakness that even he has not considered. There’s a date you and your fellow conspirators need to circle on my grandson’s annoying Avician calendar. Day 75, Year 100. Easy enough for an intelligent fellow like you to remember, isn’t it?”

  “And what will occur on that fine day?”

  “Something very special . . . you’ll find out. In the meantime, I highly recommend you do not attempt to escape with Laylah before then.”

  “And you tell me this only to hurt Invictus? You’ve nothing else to gain?”

  But Vedana did not answer. A black hole had appeared in the sky, and the bird had dove into it, vanishing from sight.

  Now, while sitting at the banquet table, Laylah puzzled silently over Izumo’s tale.

  Invictus suddenly rose to his feet and shattered her thoughts. “My friends, I have a birthday announcement. My court has a new member. And I would like to introduce him now.”

  This caused a hush. Even Mala appeared puzzled. Invictus swept his hand toward the outer wall of the tower. From nowhere an aperture appeared, humming as it enlarged until it spread at least twenty cubits tall and thirty wide. A feisty breeze swept into the room, blowing crumbs off platters and knocking over several goblets.

  “Behold, Bhayatupa!” Invictus said. “The greatest of all dragons.”

  Bhayatupa’s head, larger than Mala’s entire body, slid through the window into the banquet room. Screams and shouts ensued, and many of the guests fled, including all of the dracools except Izumo.

  “Bhayatupa aviddeso (Bhayatupa is without enmity),” the dragon said in a booming voice that caused several of the goblets to shatter. The words were meant as a concession. It appeared that Bhayatupa did not plan to incinerate them.

  Invictus laughed, obviously pleased by the hysteria. “This has been my best birthday ever!”

  Later on, Laylah sipped more wine in her bedchamber. She normally slept during the day, but the strange banquet—punctuated by the arrival of Bhayatupa—kept replaying in her mind. The more she drank of the wine, the less bitter it tasted. Her body felt as if it were shimmering. Waves of pleasure swept through her. Not since she had run wild in the mountains had she felt such joy.

  Tapping at her door interrupted her reverie. Was it her dear friend Bhacca? Or General Lucius? Oh, she hoped it was him. They could have a pleasant talk.

  More tapping.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Lucius. May I come in?”

  “Of course,” Laylah said. “Please do.”

  Laylah’s vision was blurry. She could see Lucius’ golden armor, but the visor of his helm was closed and fastened with a locking hook. He approached her quickly, and she saw that he held a pewter goblet, which he guided toward her mouth.

  “More wine, my Queen?’

  She didn’t want or need more wine, but Lucius pressed the goblet against her lips. Afterward, the dizziness intensified, and she fell backward on the soft mattress, digging her fingers into the silken sheets.

  She heard noises beside her, the creaking and clanking of metal armor being removed and dropped to the floor. Lucius was making himself comfortable. And why not? Must she spend the rest of her life in celibacy? She didn’t love him, but the firstborn was better than anyone else in this rotten place.

  And then he was on top of her, pressing between her legs. Why stop him? Was it so wrong to have a little fun?

  In her drugged state, she hardly felt Lucius enter her. Her awareness fled to a distant, dream-like place where she lay alone on a bed of white sand in a dry cave. But wait? She was not alone, after all. Someone approached—an enormous man with black hair and blue eyes. The sight of him caused her heart to pound. This was the man that she truly wanted to give herself to.

  At the sight of him, she screamed with joy.

  But then she awoke enough to realize that Lucius still lay on top of her, naked except for his helm, and he
pounded between her thighs. She’d had enough and whispered, “No . . . no.”

  She expected Lucius to be a gentlemen and honor her request, but instead he pressed his full weight upon her and pinned her to the bed with such strength she could barely move or even breathe.

  Panic set in, and revulsion, and Laylah screamed the words this time. “No . . . NO!” Suddenly, agony flared inside her abdomen, and she arched upward with a surge of panicked strength so extreme it threw Lucius to the side.

  The firstborn clambered off the bed and stood, removing his helm and heaving it to the floor. It was then that Laylah finally saw through the façade. Invictus stood in the general’s place, towering over her with an expression filled with rage and hate. He lifted her off the bed and flung her across the room. She crashed onto the top of her dressing table, knocked over the silver mirror and slid off the edge. When she struck the marble floor, she banged her head.

  Her brother rushed toward her and kicked at her stomach. She enveloped her flesh in white magic just in time to absorb the worst of the blow, but even then it knocked the breath out of her and intensified the pain she already felt. She curled up reflexively and began to sob, but it was more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else. She had struggled for so long and had so little strength left. Yet she decided at that moment that she would never stop fighting.

  Invictus continued to loom over her, his penis now gone flaccid. “How much longer do you expect me to wait?” he snarled. “How dare you deny me a son? No one can deny me. I am Akanittha!”

  Still naked, he stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it splintered. She remained on the floor, hugging her stomach, teetering on the edge of sanity. But a part of her rejoiced. She had thwarted him again.