Chapter 11

“What has he done?” Gainrel asked when he rejoined Mikael outside the hasma.

“He has retrieved the clan emerald, and killed the man Max.” Mikael said. “What news of the merchant?”

“The merchant is well,” Gainrel said. Both Legna stood atop the opposite building and watched Rotta’s hasma burn.

“Your human set this fire?” Gainrel asked.

Mikael nodded. “Shortly after the dead man’s body was retrieved by friends. He lies there.” Mikael pointed at the prone figure laying in the alley behind the now burning hasma.

“There has been much death here,” Gainrel said almost to himself. “It vibrates with evil.”

“No more,” Mikael said.

Gainrel nodded. “Indeed.”

Mikael spread his wings. “Cade is searching for Rotta.”

Before Mikael could follow Gainrel held up a hand. “A moment Mikael.”

Mikael lowered his wings.

“I am off to see the council,” Gainrel said softly.

“The council?” Mikael asked.

Gainrel nodded, his face solemn. “The woman in the litter was inhabited by an imp, or what claimed to be an imp. I believe it was dargon.”

Mikael considered Gainrel’s words. “Why?”

Gainrel stroked his long beard. “Imps do not have the power to stay manifest on this plane as do dargons. You know from your studies dargons use imps for lesser tasks, often amusing themselves at the expense of the imp because they are so weak. However, this self proclaimed imp inhabited the woman unto death.”

Mikael inhaled. “Death?”

Gainrel nodded. “Yes. And the imp seemed to have dominion over the slaves carrying the litter as well.”

“Impossible,” Mikael said. “Imps have not the power!”

“Indeed,” Gainrel said. “The creature was defiant to the end.”

Mikael’s eyes rounded in shock. Only the most powerful dargon could remain defiant in the face of a master Legna.

Mikael shook his head in disbelief. “So you hope to gain the wisdom of the council?”

Gainrel sighed. “I am uncertain they will be able to offer any wisdom outside the prophecy. But they will notify the generals individually. If imps are becoming more powerful then it is something we must investigate. If dargons are posing as imps, then it is still something we must investigate. Our enemies are in motion, I am certain. I just do not yet know in which direction they travel or their goal. So I must confer with the council. Perhaps they have reports from the ranks that will explain these strange events.”

Gainrel looked back toward the fire.

“Until I return guard your human well,” Gainrel said.

Mikael bowed his head slightly.

Mikael watched Gainrel lift his wings and wave farewell. He looked back at the hasma then shot into the air, a silver streak left in his wake.


Chapter 12

Rotta took every back alley and secret passage she knew to speed the journey to the only place she could escape the Wardex. Her throat ached and she stopped several times to take deep breaths of air. Familiarity directed her feet to a dilapidated shack in a row of such dwellings.

Rotta hesitated. The night was ominously silent, shafts of moonlight illuminated the alley and the filth littering it. She shivered and lifted a shaking hand to her tender raw and already bruised throat. Somewhere in the distance she heard a baby wail. A cool breeze ruffled her long black hair. She gulped air suddenly gone thin. Somewhere in the back of her mind was a cry to turn away from the rotting wooden door before her. Her nostrils flared with indecision. She heard something move further down the alley. Her heart quickened. She licked her lips and rapped softly on the door.

Without a sound the old wooden door swung open. Rotta peered into the pitch black room. “Mistress DeTac?” She called her voice scratchy and tight and not just from the Wardex’s minstrations.

No answer.

“Mistress DeTac,” she called again a little louder and took one step over the threshold.

“What do you want?” An old raspy voice, like the heel beat of a thousand roaches, said from the darkness.

Rotta wanted the old hag to turn on a lamp but held her tongue. “I seek aid Mistress DeTac.” She looked back out on the alley fully expecting to see the Wardex bearing down on her.

Silence.

“There is a Wardex come to town,” Rotta said. The continuing silence made her uneasy. “You may know him. He has a large war hound, a black one. He has burned my hasma! I need to escape.” She took another step over the threshold which placed her entirely in the shack. “He…”

Rotta lost her train of thought. Her lungs struggled for breath. The suffocating air around her felt as if it were a warm wet blanket of darkness slowly closing over her face and body. She had the sensation of snakes crawling on her flesh and spiders in her hair. Before she could scream the sensation was gone. But she felt soiled, as if just walking through a shower of mud.

“I, I…” she stuttered.

“Close the door,” the voice said.

Rotta turned to shut the door. She considered running away, from the witch, from the Wardex, from Amstel. But where would she go? Amstel was her entire life. She sighed and slowly closed the door. The old witch lit a lamp.

“Tell me of this Wardex girl,” the witch said without preamble. “He has a hound you say?”

Rotta looked at the woman sitting in a wooden chair by an empty fireplace. At first glance, she looked like a grandmother waiting for visitors. A large blanket covered her ample lap and her fingers twisted with arthritis. Her frail upper body seemed weak and bowed. Her eyes were clouded over with white pouches of liquid making one think her blind. But Rotta knew better than anyone not to trust the image. This woman was dangerous, the most dangerous person Rotta knew. And she could see everything just fine.

“He has a black war hound Mistress,” Rotta answered. “His name is Cade. I thought him dead, Indeed I don’t know how he can be alive. I watched him consume enough of the Coron you sold me to kill five men.”

The old woman laughed and Rotta almost turned and ran from the shack so horrible was the sound.

“So,” DeTac said. “I wondered where he would show up. He has the hound you say?”

Rotta nodded. “Yes Mistress. Do you know him?”

The old woman looked at Rotta. “You are a foolish girl. Of course I know him. He would this very minute be in Argon had not something interfered with my transportation spell.”

Rotta stiffened understanding coming to her eyes. “Max,” she growled.

DeTac smiled and Rotta thought it was the singularly most hideous facial expression she’d ever seen on a human being.

“Indeed,” DeTac mocked. “Max.”

“I’ll kill him,” Rotta said beneath her breath.

“He is dead already.” DeTac said bluntly.

Rotta did not care.

DeTac leaned forward. “Come here girl.”

Rotta hesitated. In her few visits to establish buying Coron from the old witch, DeTac had never asked Rotta to come near her or even to come inside the shack. In fact, being in the old witches presence was so disturbing Rotta often sent a carrier to pick up the poison.

Rotta grew up hearing stories about the witch. Some said she stayed alive by projecting herself into younger women and staying with their bodies until they were old, then finding another, something Rotta always discounted. Now in the still of the dark night Rotta was afraid of exactly that.

DeTac’s eyes narrowed. “Come to me now girl. If I want to harm you I will do it whether you be two feet from me or two hundred.”
Rotta sighed. DeTac was the only person in all of Amstel with enough power to thwart a Wardex. “Yes Mistress,” she said and walked the last few steps to stand before the old witch.

“On your knees,” DeTac ordered.

Rotta took a deep breath and fell to her knees before the old woman. They were face to face.

DeTac ran an arthritic finger down Rotta’s cheek. “Such a pretty girl. Too bad you weren’t born with the brains to match.”
Rotta held her shiver of revulsion.

“You want something from me,” DeTac said. “And I something from you.”

Rotta tried to look at the old woman’s forehead, to avoid the perfectly hideous eyes staring out at her from the sunken sockets of the woman’s face. Rotta nodded.

DeTac went still. Her eye lids closed and she appeared to be in some sort of trance. Rotta watched DeTac’s mouth move but no sound came forth. After what seemed an eternity to Rotta, DeTac’s eyes opened and looked again at the woman kneeling before her.

“Let us strike a deal girl. You look to be strong and healthy.” DeTac said. “I will place you under my considerable protection if you agree to carry something for me.”

“What is it you wish me to carry for you Mistress?” Rotta asked.

DeTac half smiled and shrugged. “It is not so great a thing and will not cause your bones to break with the weight of it. I would carry it myself were I able. It is precious to me and therefore I will not reveal it until we are agreed. Are we agreed?”

Rotta considered. She really had little choice in the matter. Carrying something for an old witch sounded infinitely better than what she would find at the hand’s of the Wardex.

Rotta again nodded.

DeTac pulled a large dagger from beneath the blanket. Rotta fell back in reaction.

“Don’t be stupid girl,” DeTac hissed. “We seal our bargain in blood.” She placed the blade of the dagger in her left palm.
Rotta coveted the blade immediately. A blood red ruby bitten by two silver snakes with intertwining bodies decorated the hilt, both tails coming together to form the perfect blade. A slow hum filled Rotta’s head. DeTac drew the blade across her palm. A thin red line of blood appeared.

“Give me your hand,” DeTac said.

Rotta complied never taking her eye from the ruby.

DeTac again placed the now bloody blade of the dagger on Rotta’s left palm and slowly ran the blade across it. Blood pooled.
DeTac clasped her bloody palm to that of Rotta’s. “In this blood bond we are united. You agree to carry something for me and I agree to protect you from the Wardex as long as you carry it. Are you in total agreement?”

Rotta nodded still staring at the ruby. DeTac frowned. “Say it,” she hissed.

Rotta stuttered. “I, I agree!”

DeTac smiled and slipped the dagger back under the blanket.

Rotta wanted to cry out at the blade’s disappearance. One look at the too joyous face of DeTac brought her attention back to the present.

“What is it…” she started.

The door flew open slamming with a loud crack against the wall. Rotta jumped to her feet fearfully turning and expecting to see the Wardex standing there. What she saw turned her fear to horror.

“Ah Max,” DeTac cackled from behind Rotta.

Max, dead but undead, stood in the thresh hold. His guts ran in bloody streams down his lower stomach and legs. His boots were splattered with sticky gore from stomping on his own entrails. His green eyes were no longer green, but red and they were looking hungrily at Rotta.

“Come in and shut the door,” DeTac ordered.

Max moved with stiff jerks leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He shut the door and turned to face DeTac. The smell from his putrid body was suffocating.

Rotta fell back against the wall and wretched.

“We haven’t much time,” DeTac said to Max. “The blood will leave a trail anyone can follow.”

Rotta turned to look at the woman. “What is, is it?”

DeTac smiled and stood.

A long horrible scream tore from Rotta’s throat. DeTac was not fully human. The bottom portion of her body was that of a spider. Eight hairy black legs lifted DeTac’s suddenly stronger human torso to over seven feet tall. Each leg had a small hand where a foot might be expected.

Rotta shook her in total shock and whispered, “It is forbidden.”

DeTac towered above Max and Rotta. She reached for Rotta with one of the hairy black spider legs. Rotta fought with all her might but was unable to free herself from the strength in that grasp.

“What are you doing?” Rotta screamed feeling her sanity starting to slip.

“Seeing that you fulfill your promise girl,” DeTac said as she pulled Rotta toward the back room.

Rotta tugged with all her might but to no avail. “What, what is it you wish me to carry for you?”

DeTac stopped. In one fluid and viscously fast movement, she bent her torso low so her twisted ugly face was even with Rotta’s lovely one. “A child.”

Rotta’s eyes rounded in horror.

DeTac smirked. “And Max here is gonna be the daddy.”

Rotta looked at Max. The blood was still flowing slowly and pooling at his feet. Every step he took toward her smashed his bile filled intestines into the floor. She screamed again and sanity slipped away.