Chained By Fear: 2 Read online

  Laylah was in bliss. She would join the three most wonderful people in the world at her parents’ sturdy dining table. Before they ate, Takoda would recite a chant to honor the Great Spirit, provider of life. Her parents, whose religious beliefs were similar to those practiced by the Jivitans, would thank the One God for their bountiful meal.

  But something was wrong. It gnawed at her, attempting to devour her delight. Her bed used to be so soft and comfortable, but now it felt lumpy and unpleasant.

  “Mommy? Are you there? I don’t feel very good.”

  She heard no response. She tried to stand, but found she could not. Her thin arms and legs were knotted up in her bed cover. The more she struggled, the more entangled she became. The woolen fibers stank like manure. It was difficult to breathe.

  “Time for dinner,” she heard Stēorra say. “Laylah . . . come to the table. We’re waaaaaaiting.”

  But Laylah could not escape her bed, which thumped up and down like an angry beast, sickening her stomach.

  “Mommy! Daddy! The bed won’t let me stand up.”

  She heard her mother cackle. What a silly thing for a child to say. Gunther and Takoda also seemed to think that it was funny, but they sounded more like they were growling than laughing.

  “Wake up, little one,” she heard Stēorra sing. The words made Laylah recoil. Her mother had never called her little one. But someone else had—someone she already despised.

  “Wake up, little one,” said the voice that was not her mother’s. “We’re almost there. Soon your training will begin.”

  When Laylah opened her eyes she found she was strapped to the back of a black mountain wolf, the largest and most dangerous of its kind. Several others were within her range of vision, walking in single file along a path that wound between rock walls leaning inward, as if anxious to collapse upon her.

  The wolf just in front of her sensed her awakening and twisted back its head. She could see its sharp teeth and dog-like face in the dim light of dawn.

  “Wake up, little one,” said Vedana, who rode the lead wolf about twenty paces ahead. “Soon after we enter the den, you will begin your training. There’s no time for food or rest, though some hot blood would be nice. You will learn to love the taste of blood, granddaughter. Your brother took to it quickly.”

  “Never,” Laylah muttered.

  The wolf she rode growled.

  Vedana chortled. “We shall see, little one.”

  Laylah came fully awake. Her arms were tied around the wolf’s neck, and a tight stretch of rope ran from ankle to ankle beneath the beast’s belly. Just enough slack had been left for her to turn her head from side to side, but even that small movement was painful.

  Laylah wondered how long she had been unconscious—enough time, at least, for the wolf to carry her out of the valley and onto the slope of a bony mountain. But Laylah, who had explored all of the mountains near her village, did not recognize this path, which crisscrossed upward toward a towering summit.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Laylah said. The wolf growled again, the thick muscles of its neck bulging beneath her breasts.

  “Longer than you would like, I’m sure,” Vedana said. “You’ve slept for two full days, mostly on Nagua’s back. When I bring on sleep, it lasts longer than any other. While you slumbered, we traveled more than twenty leagues. The black wolves are tireless. From the top of this mountain, you can see the Gap of Gamana.”

  “You lie,” said Laylah, who then attempted—and failed—to break her restraints. Nagua twisted his head and snapped at her.

  Laylah was not afraid. “I’ll kill you, wolf. And then I’ll kill your master.”

  “You would find that difficult,” Vedana said. “But just in case, I’ve taken precautions.”

  “You’re full of bluster,” Laylah said. “But I don’t fear you. What have I to lose? When my strength returns, I’ll break these bonds and throttle you with my bare hands.”

  “Bluster, you say? Was it bluster that caused you to sleep for two days? Was it bluster that secured the talisman around your throat, rendering you powerless?”

  “Talisman?” Laylah suddenly realized why she was having so much trouble breathing. A thin cord was wrapped around her neck. Attached to the cord was a cold sliver of metal that pressed against her skin.

  Even as a little girl, Laylah had been able to conjure white flames on her fingertips. The boy—her brother—had helped refine her skills during his frequent visits to the sycamore swing. But when Laylah now tried to summon flames to sunder the ropes that bound her wrists, the talisman flared, and an eruption of agony ensued.

  It felt like a hot coal was burning a hole in her flesh.

  Laylah cried out.

  And coughed.

  Up ahead, Vedana laughed heartily. “Keep struggling, little one. The more you struggle, the more pain you will feel. And the more pain you feel, the more I will like it!”

  Laylah pressed her face against Nagua’s coarse fur and sobbed. When she regained some control, she peered down to see if the ropes had been charred. They were unharmed.

  “What have you done to me?”

  “The talisman has been used against many enemies, all of whom are now dead.”

  Until this point in her life, Laylah’s strength had never been fully tested. When Invictus murdered her parents, she had fled rather than fight him, making no attempt to rescue Gunther and Stēorra, and she had spent the next eight years trying to convince herself there was nothing she could have done, that she was just a child, that Invictus was too strong. Then during her life with the Ropakans, Takoda had urged her to veil her powers, fearing she would become an outcast if she were seen as a sorceress. Her slaughter of the Porisādas had been, by far, her most extravagant display of magic.

  But she was finished with cowardice and concealment. While the cannibals writhed in the blood that spewed from their mouths, she had not felt pity. In fact, it had been pleasurable to show no mercy to those who tormented her.

  At that moment her only desire was to wreak more havoc. Laylah attempted to shout the deadly word Invictus had taught her. She now knew it would have no effect on Vedana, but at least she could kill the wolves. But when she tried to say the word, her tongue became tangled in her mouth, in the same frustrating manner she had endured whenever she had tried to tell her parents about her mysterious visitor at the swing. To make matters worse, the talisman scorched like a fire that could not be extinguished. She screamed at Vedana to stop the agony. Then she begged.

  The demon only laughed.

  “I can make it even worse, if you don’t do what you’re told,” she heard Vedana saying through the avalanche of suffering. “Eventually, little one, you’ll thank me for this.”

  Unconsciousness finally took pity on Laylah, closing over her like the lid of a coffin. She returned to the world of dreams. Gunther, Stēorra, and Takoda rejoined her, but now their bodies were bloated and decayed.

  They reached for her with clawed fingers.

  Laylah knew, the way you know in dreams, that they blamed her . . . for everything.

  When Laylah opened her eyes she was disoriented, and it took her quite some time to come fully awake. She lay on her back on a bed of stone, iron cuffs securing her arms and ankles. Except for the talisman around her throat, she was naked.

  A lone torch provided the only light, revealing a musty cavern somewhere inside the mountain. Water dripped off the stone ceiling. It was a miserable place. She was alone.

  Or was she? She heard footsteps. Voices. Unpleasant laughter.

  “I believe she’s finally awake,” said a sultry female voice. “I’ve never met ssssuch a sleepyhead.”

  “My talisman has that effect,” said a second voice, which Laylah recognized as Vedana’s.

  Laylah lifted her head. Shadows emerged from a passageway, and two figures entered the torchlight: Vedana, appearing slightly hunched and elderly, along with the most beautiful woman Laylah had ever seen. She had green ey
es and waist-length auburn hair, and she smelled like wildflowers.

  “My, my, she issss attractive,” the woman said, admiring Laylah’s nakedness. “Vedana, she’s the prettiest you’ve ever made.”

  “How would you know, Chal? I’ve been making them long before I brought you into the world.”

  “Oh, mistress . . . don’t be ssssilly. I am Chal-Abhinno, Queen of the Warlish witches. I know many things.”

  “Where am I?” said Laylah, finding the strength to speak. “What are you going to do with me?”

  “She livessss,” was Chal’s response.

  The witch and the demon walked to separate sides of the stone bed. Chal smiled sweetly, but her eyes roamed, her pupils expanding and contracting eerily.

  Laylah blushed.

  “Oh, don’t be embarrassed,” Chal said sweetly. “I don’t like girlssss that way . . . very often.”

  “Don’t believe her lies,” Vedana said. In comparison, the demon’s voice sounded uncouth.

  “Mistress, why are you being so mean today?”

  “You know why. Don’t play stupid.”

  “Why do you worry so much? If he somehow found ussss, the Mogols would warn us before he got here. There are places to hide deep in the mountain that not even he could discover.”

  “I need time, you dim-witted whore. Time to work with her and train her. But now it appears I won’t get it.” Then she stomped her foot on the hard stone floor. “We’re too close to Avici. I should have taken Laylah to the forest, instead of here. Invictus’ influence does not yet reach that far . . . yet.”

  “What are you going to do with me?” Laylah repeated.

  Chal giggled. “And you call me dim-witted,” she said to Vedana.

  “Unlike you and me, Laylah has led a sheltered life—except, of course, for the incident with her parents and my grandson,” Vedana said. “That could not have been pleasant.”

  “What would Invictus want with me?” Laylah said. “Doesn’t he have a wife and family by now?”

  Vedana and Chal burst into laughter.

  “Doesn’t he have a wife and family by now?” said Chal, impersonating Laylah with spooky precision. “Does this child know anything?”

  “She’s never been properly trained,” Vedana said. “First I would need to break her will. But even then, it would take years to make her truly dangerous. When she was young, Invictus secretly taught her a few words of power and some simple spells. Otherwise, she’s a novice.”

  “What does Invictus want with me?” shouted Laylah, her voice echoing in the chamber. “Do not speak in riddles. Tell me!” Laylah fought to break her restraints. Her flesh glowed in the semidarkness, superheating the iron cuffs. But as soon as her power began to emanate, the talisman responded, sending blistering jolts of agony into her throat that radiated through her head and chest.

  “Are you finished, little one?” Vedana said. “Fighting will do you no good. The talisman is too strong. There are few on Triken with the power to resist it.” The demon then turned to Chal. “I can sense my grandson’s presence better than anyone. After all, I taught him everything he knows. And what did he do in return? Threatened to destroy me. Not in so many words, but I could see it in his eyes. His growth never slows. Every single day, he becomes stronger.” Vedana gazed at the passageway. “When he arrives, there’ll be no place to hide. Not deep in the mountain. Not anywhere. If we want to survive, our only choice will be to flee . . . and hope that when he finds Laylah, he will forget about us.”

  “He believes I’m his friend,” Chal said. “I’ve shown him where to find slavessss. I’ve lured creatures to Avici to join his army. We’re close, Invictus and I. If he had discovered thissss hiding place, I would know it.”

  “You know only what he wishes you to know,” Vedana said. “You’re close because he allows you to be. Fool! He is beyond you. If he doesn’t yet recognize you as a traitor, it’s because you’re too small in his estimation to be of much concern.”

  Then the demon glared at the witch distrustfully, with eyes that glowed like fire. “I warn you. Do not betray me! I’m sure it has crossed your mind. But my magic created you. If I perish, so will you—and all of your sisters.”

  Chal backed away, dropped to her knees and covered her face. Laylah could see only the top of the woman’s head. The witch’s auburn hair curled and turned gray, and black smoke oozed from the pores of her skin, saturating the cavern with a terrible stench. When Chal rose to her feet, a devil stood where an angel had been.

  Laylah recoiled.

  “Oh, don’t look so disgussssted,” the hideous version of Chal said. “A lady can’t always be at her best.” Then she turned to Vedana. “I’ll never betray you, mistress. You gave me the giftssss of long life and powerful magic. For that, I’ll be forever grateful.”

  Vedana started to respond, but a shuffling sound near the mouth of the passageway interrupted her. A second witch—as hideously ugly as Chal had just become—rushed into the cavern.

  “Mistress! Mistress!” the witch said to Vedana. “Invictus approaches. He’s alone except for a pair of dracoolssss, but the Mogols and wolves dare not confront him. His body glowssss like the sun. The trees bow before him. Even the stones fear him. What are we to do?”

  Vedana hissed. In response, Chal and the other witch backed toward the exit. It wasn’t safe to be near the mother of all demons when she was in a foul mood.

  Vedana sniffed the air. “Flee, you fools!” the demon wailed. “Don’t let him see you.”

  Chal and the second witch scrambled into the passageway. Laylah watched them disappear, and her body began to shake uncontrollably. Then she turned to the demon, who seemed amused by Laylah’s terror.

  “Do I make you tremble? Wait until you see what he makes you do. But there’s one final way I can thwart him.”

  With the agility of a spider, the demon pounced onto the stone bed and crouched over Laylah. Vedana growled, exposing a long black tongue. Then she placed her gnarled hands on Laylah’s stomach and spoke strange-sounding words.

  Laylah was sickened. She fought against the restraints until her wrists and ankles bled. She screamed until her throat burned. But the demon’s hands continued to burn the tender flesh of her abdomen. It was a fouler torture than the talisman.

  Then the revulsion became too great, and Laylah’s mind ran like a coward toward the comfort of unconsciousness.

  When she woke, Vedana was gone.

  6

  As Vedana began her incantation, her dark essence began to work its magic. From the Realm of the Undead, she called an extra-special efrit that was larger and stronger than any other, giving it a silent command to follow until the end of its existence: Do nothing to harm Laylah as long as her sexual relations did not create emotional suffering. Then she deposited the efrit with its instrictions into her granddaughter’s womb, where it would nestle, harmlessly, for the rest of Laylah’s life—as long as Laylah only made love with mates of her choosing. But if any of her encounters appeared to be forced, the efrit would awaken and devour her womb.

  Pregnancy by rape would be impossible. Only a desirable seduction would allow Laylah to conceive a child.

  Vedana did not have the strength to defeat Invictus in open battle, but neither was she helpless. When she fled from the cave, her goal had been accomplished. Afterward she cackled in her lair. Invictus would be enraged, but his powers over her remained limited. The sorcerer ruled the Realm of Life, but the mother of all demons still reigned among the undead. And she was so good at hiding.

  Laylah would remember little of what occurred in the chamber.

  But Invictus would be certain to find out. His perverted lust would guarantee it.

  Vedana had earned a measure of revenge. And the grandson would be helpless to undo it. If he attempted to remove the efrit, it would chew apart Laylah’s insides.

  In this way, Vedana gained control over the time and place that Invictus would be able to impregnate her granddaughter,
for only she had the magic to disarm the efrit without harming Laylah.

  Control . . . oh, how she loved to be in control.

  Vedana knew better than anyone or anything that timing was everything.

  Prisoner

  7

  Laylah had first met Invictus when she was five years old. He’d murdered their parents when she was ten. Eight years after that, she was about to meet him again.

  She woke from the demon’s spell with a squeal, but when she tried to rise, she found herself still shackled to the stone bed in the dank chamber. Vedana, however, was gone, and the dreadful talisman with her.

  Without the evil magic to thwart her, Laylah was able to free herself. She folded her fingers over the palms of her hands and pressed them against the iron cuffs, bathing them with white fire. The cuffs superheated, melted and disintegrated. Then she sat up and reached for the ones around her ankles.

  But something in the passageway caused her to freeze.

  At first she saw just a faint yellow glow far back in the tunnel, but she watched with dread as it grew progressively brighter. And hotter. A portion of her mind screamed at her paralysis. Free yourself! Run! Anywhere. But a morbid fascination held her in place. Her brother was coming. And she could do nothing.

  Laylah’s worst fears took hold. Though she had tried for eight years to erase the memory of that horrid day, it had continued to torment her mercilessly. Every lurid detail remained embedded in her recollections. She sat on the stone bed and replayed the horror in her mind. When she thought of Invictus, a terrible cramp seized her abdomen. She cried out, held her stomach and sobbed. How could she bear to look at his face again?

  The glow grew painfully bright, turning the oily water on the chamber’s ceiling to steam. A spherical blob of energy emerged from the passageway and hovered nearby, resembling a miniature sun. She cowered before it.