Mercedes Lackey - Lamma's Night (anthology)

I tried to pretend ignorance of my magical abilities, but it was to no avail. Demonheart already knew what I could do, and he knew where the important volumes were in the cottage. Helplessly I watched him follow her about, just at the edge of her magical vision. My plan of presenting an illusion of cooperation would, I feared, endanger her more than it would help me to escape. But at the time I had no other plan, and I had for the most part convinced Demonheart of my sincerity. I bided my time.

Meanwhile, she did everything she could to thwart my attempts at protecting her, though of course she had no way of knowing. Her curiosity about my death got the best of her, I saw clearly. On this night she set out northwards, towards the grove—a brave one, she was, to face a power when it was at its strongest. She followed the path directly to my former magical work, which had all but drained into the reinforcement of my cage, though there was still some residual power. The expertise with which she studied and deciphered the circle... I was complimented when I sensed her appreciation of my work.

I felt Demonheart's uneasiness; he had already dispatched his army of wraiths and other creatures of the dark. He was afraid she was going to attack! I knew better, but I was not going to enlighten the demon. Now, to test his resolve , I thought.

The demon was a coward. One single human mage kept him at bay, this Demonheart who sent his minions to flail harmlessly against her shields. I could tell she was no stranger to beings such as these; she barely flinched when the most hideous of the lot attacked her, and my estimation of her increased threefold.

She left the circle with hardly a backward glance. Her casual demeanor visibly angered and insulted Demonheart, and it was all I could do to conceal my own amusement. Simple-minded and a coward Demonheart might be, but it still had the power to imprison me, and would likely do the same with her, if given a chance.

Demonheart took up other tactics, of which I was the principal instrument. I agreed to this only because it permitted me more intimate contact with this powerful, and beautiful, wizard.

I discovered much to my dismay that whatever tradition this wizard studied had neglected to show her the basics of dream shielding. Her mind was amazingly open to attack while she slept, a fact of which Demonheart was unaware since he would have taken advantage of it otherwise.

That night something began, something that changed everything....

As I've said, my imprisoned soul had begun to lose touch with what it was like to have a body, to be alive, to eat, to sleep. These things happen when one is discorporate; the memories are there, but they become vague with time. Perhaps Demonheart sensed this when he dispatched me to enter her dreams. When night fell and the wizard retired I entered her unguarded sleep easily, like a thief walking into an unlocked house.

I am no stranger to the company of females, but my sudden contact with her reminded me how long it had been, and how much I had been secretly yearning to be with her. Granted it was only my soul that was with her, but very quickly the memory of former sensation was made painfully sharp. Over the next several nights I became more daring, tempting her with erotic pleasures in which she seemed all too willing to indulge. I would have considered myself in heaven, save for the appalling discovery I made on the third night.

Demonheart had stolen into the dream with me! Using my soul as a shield, he hid behind my essence while I seduced her, watching us make love from the shadowed edges of her dream. I might have objected if I had thought it would do any good, but I knew I was free on the demon's terms, and that I risked ending these ecstatic trysts if I so much as hinted I knew of the demon's presence. For I was in love with this woman, whose name I still didn't know, and would do nothing to jeopardize our time together, tenuous as it was.

Then Demonheart did something maddening—he left fresh flowers for her to find the next morning, and she thought they had been left by me! However, I still didn't understand the true plan, at least not yet.

But then she decided to explore the haunted grove again, and I knew this made the demon nervous. A secret remained hidden in the grove, one I had been close to revealing myself before the demon robbed me of soul and life, what seemed like an eternity ago. I had described the demon as a "heart of darkness" in my notes, and this curious wizard was determined to succeed where I had failed

In daylight she ventured into the haunted wood. I noted with no small interest that Demonheart had difficulty summoning his wraiths in the full light of day; this time he made do with simply observing from a distance.

She indeed found what I had tried to bind From my peculiar perspective, however, I saw with startling clarity what evil had been buried there. It was a grave, exceedingly old, possibly dating back to a primitive time when our land lived in caves and migrated in animal like bands. Such evil... Demonheart had never been able to return to the living, so evil and alien his soul was. And here he had lurked, for millennia.

Once she discovered the grave, everything changed subtly. The demon feared for its existence, and rightly so; she was out to bind it, to complete the task I had begun.

I had to warn her, even if it meant betraying my ruse. I was finished, but she was still among the living, and I was determined to keep her there, gods willing. When the demon wasn't paying attention, I appeared to her in a reflection. She must have known the danger she was in, for she ran for the library, for a particular book of spells I knew quite well.

She will ruin everything! Demonheart shrieked. Stop her, you fool, or she will destroy us both!

This I doubted, but I took advantage of my brief freedom by directing her to a spell that would send me on, far away from her, where I could be of no use to the demon.

No, you don't! the demon shrieked, and surprised us both by turning the page of the spell book.

This is the spell she must work, you fool Demonheart said. You must create a child, so that I would live again!

I saw the spell the book had fallen to. If performed correctly, the working would bring me back, not only in spirit, but in flesh. It was a necromancer's spell, one I had never done, and had sworn never to do.

The wizard seemed uncertain as to which spell to work, and I saw why: they were identical, save for one word. Uttering that one word made the difference between summoning or banishing my spirit. And this night was Hallowmas night, the only night upon which either could be worked.

I resigned it all to the fates, but the demon seemed to think he had won. We'll see , I thought.

The wizard's magical circle appeared at the edge of our domain. I felt the spell pulling at me, urging my attendance. I obeyed, not knowing where I would be sent.

Then the hour of midnight was upon us, and she looked at me directly and commanded, " Come ."

I would have shrieked in rage had I the voice, but the magics that descended upon me at that moment drowned any such attempt. But I heard Demonheart bellowing in victory as the darkness surrounded me.

I found myself standing in her circle, very much flesh and blood. The wind had whipped up a frenzy of dried leaves, and I smelled rain, and the rich earth beneath me, so sharp were my senses now that they had been thrust upon me.

She regarded me with something like awe, or perhaps it was lust. For a moment I was taken by her beauty, the flow of her robe as the wind blew it about her. I wanted to touch her, to be with her again... but I knew it could not be.

"So you are the wizard Keighvin," she whispered. "How nice of you to attend."