David Dalglish - A Sliver of Redemption

“And what of here?” he asked. “This…Angelport…what might we expect there?”

Angelport was far to the south-east, its lords ruling the area known as the Ramere, bordered between the Erze and Quellan Forests.

“The trip will put us many weeks off the path west,” Velixar said.

Thulos raised an eyebrow. “I asked a question, and I expect an answer.”

Karak’s prophet chuckled.

“So be it. Angelport is full of sellswords and men with more blood than honor. Nearly every ship that sails along the coast is owned or captained by a man with some sort of allegiance to the lords there.”

Thulos nodded and seemed pleased. He folded his wings about him and sat on the throne.

“With my portal closed, I cannot conquer as I would any other world,” he said. “My demons are now valuable beyond measure, and every one I lose will never be replaced, not until Celestia is dead and my brothers freed. I need men, human soldiers to fight and bleed for me. If the Green Castle is busy fighting our orc allies, then leave them be. Felwood is our only true threat, so that is where we shall go. They will swear their swords to me, turning a danger into a boon. From there we will go to Angelport. Have every demon ransack Veldaren inch by inch before we leave. Those who will not bow for honor or glory will succumb to gold instead. Besides, from Angelport I can send several men west. You’ve insisted the nation of Ker is loyal to Karak. I want to see if that loyalty still holds true.”

“I will relay your orders,” Velixar said. After a moment’s hesitance, he bowed. Thulos’s eyes narrowed at the gesture.

“You are just one of my many soldiers,” he said. “I do not need your worship, nor do I expect it. I am the same as your god, yet greater, more whole. You will come to see that in time.”

“Perhaps,” Velixar said. “Many things change, in time.”

T essanna searched the castle for clothes, a singular focus taking over her mind. Her thin red outfit no longer served her purpose. She cast it aside and put on a plain brown dress, the cloth rough against her skin. Not caring if it matched, she found a shirt and put it over her shoulders. She would not bare her skin for taunting enticement. All her life, she had flaunted the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts, and the long, shining exoticness of her hair. No more. She didn't need that power anymore. Even swords needed sheathed once in awhile, and her beauty was no different.

Thulos's army had remained disturbingly quiet during its occupation, but when the order came to march, they took to it with a shocking intensity. Angry voices shouted across the city, armor clanked and banged incessantly, and not a soldier remained idle. Into that chaos Tessanna stepped out, no longer the princess with the power of the goddess. She looked like a tired, strained woman, too much of the world on her shoulders. She tried not to admit it, but she was eager for Velixar to see her, to see his reaction. Much as it might burn her, she wanted to be dismissed, no longer desirable to him.

“So the butterfly returns to the cocoon?” Velixar asked.

Tessanna startled and took a step back toward the castle door, surprised by how close his voice was. At one time she would have sensed his presence, but her magic had faded, and she felt blind and unaware.

His hands grabbed her arms, and she winced at the pain. His grip was iron.

“Qurrah will be so disappointed to see you like this,” he said, his eyes flaring wide.

“I don't care what he thinks,” she said.

Velixar laughed, and the sound, so dismissive, so superior, tightened the muscles in her stomach.

“Is that so?” he asked. “Then who is this charade for?”

“I felt your anger,” she said, trying to pull away. He grabbed harder, bruising her arm. She stopped her struggle. If she kept going, kept fighting, she knew what would happen.

“I know how much you hate me,” she said, her voice quieter. “I felt that too.”

“I have much to hate,” Velixar said. He pressed his body against hers. So cold, she thought. He's so cold, yet on fire.

“Your lover abandoned us,” the man in black continued. “Just as his brother did years before. The dark paladins, my friends, have lost most of their rank. You closed the portal I spent centuries plotting and killing to open, and now you turn me away, as if afraid.”

“I am not afraid,” she said.

“Yet you tremble.”

He gestured to the war demons that hurried about, not paying the slightest attention to them.

“Right here,” he said, pressing her tighter against him. “What would you do, Tessanna? How twisted is your desire? Forget intimacy or beauty. You had your chance for that last night. But what about your lust? What about your perversions?”

He pressed his cheek against hers, his lips brushing against her left ear. Now her whole body trembled.

“Struggle,” he whispered.

She pulled against his hands, but they held tight, latching her against him. Her legs twisted, she pushed back, but it was all false, and Velixar knew it. He let go of one of her wrists, instead wrapping his hand around her throat, his fingers pressing against the sides of her neck so that she felt the pressure but did not suffer any difficulty in breathing. He wanted her to breath. He needed to know.

“Scream,” he whispered.

She did. For him to leave. Him to get away.

The glow in his eyes deepened. He smiled.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded.

She did.

By now the war demons had noticed this commotion, but conflicted between curiosity and their orders, they chose their orders. Through the corner of their eyes they watched as they packed provisions and hurried to and fro, but none said a word, and none would interfere.

Velixar reached around and one by one undid the braids of her hair. He released her other wrist, and with his free hand covered her mouth with his palm, an icy gag to prevent any more screams. He felt her exhalations from her nose against his skin. It was warm. Strong. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers.

“I know what it is you need,” he said, his deep voice barely audible. “What you want. Qurrah's gone now, but you still need it. You want it. Control. Order. It is everything I am, you wretched little whore. Right here. Right now. In front of all of them.”

Tessanna looked up at him, tears in her eyes. All her anger and resolve from the night before seemed to have belonged to a different person.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I will,” she said.

“I know you will,” Velixar said. Her tilted her head to one side and gently rubbed her cheek with his thumb. “Say my name.”

“Please…”

“Say it, or take off your dress.”

Her tears ran down her cheeks. When they touched his thumb, they filled with frost and stopped.

“Master.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Never forget it,” he said, and the words felt like a death sentence.

“I won't,” she said, her whole body shivering. Clutching her arms, she glared at the man she knew she had every reason to hate.

And then knelt on one knee and asked what her master wished.

Q urrah moaned in his sleep, his arms thrashing about in a desperate attempt to wake himself, but the dream would not let him. It had a power to it, magical in its source. He was surrounded by shadow, and within he saw hungry and beautiful creatures. The sound that filled his ears was their famished wailing. Beneath his feet was barren rock, stretching out until it merged with the shadows to become nothingness.

Before him two red eyes peered out from the shadows, followed by a grin, followed by the rest of the ever-changing face. Velixar laughed, the laugh of the victorious.