Ah, but I have the key, and I know how to use it. Quite simple it is, yet in its simplicity lies its secret. Oh, how Orbane will reward me, for I alone will set him free.
On she hurtled in a straight line, down and leftward from the wall. And but for her beating heart and the sapping of her spell, she had no way of measuring how long the flight.
. . And on she went. .
. . and on.
But then in the distance ahead- A faint glow! Oh, Iniqui, the gods of Enfer have smiled upon me, and I have found the way.
On she flew, the glow nearing, and now she could see the stone bridge. Out it jutted from the dark castle for no more than fifty strides, where it abruptly ended, as if shorn off from another half standing elsewhere far away. Along its low stone walls stood ever-burning torches, barely casting a glow, the light itself seemingly sucked away by the ebon surround.
Weary, Hradian alit upon the stone of the bridge, and above her loomed the massive bulk of the castle, great dark blocks milled from rock and assembled into walls and turrets and buttresses and roofing. Massive and strong it seemed, unbreachable.
Hradian looked up at the dark stone faintly glinting in the torchlight. What’s this? There was but a single tower when Iniqui led us here, yet now it is of a size to host a multitude. Did my master somehow change it to what it has become? Ah, faugh, it is of no import. Instead, I must set my master free.
Clutching the amulet, Hradian strode forward, toward a gaping archway, its opening filled with shadowlight, much like that of the twilight walls. And as she reached it, she paused.
Iniqui, if you are wrong about this key, and if my vision of its 180 / DENNIS L. MCKIERNAN
use was in error, then I, too, shall be imprisoned forever. If that happens, then when I am dead, I will hunt down your ghost and rend it to shreds.
And with that bitter vow, into the shadowlight of the entry-way she trod.
Into a great throne chamber she entered: hundreds of strides it was to the fore and hundreds to left and right, and the ceiling was far above. Wide stairways to either side led up to balconies, with archways into corridors leading off to quarters beyond.
Likewise, archways on this level also led into corridors, down which, presumably, other rooms lay. Ever-lit lanterns illuminated all.
But Hradian did not see these stairways and balconies and arches and corridors, for in the center of the chamber stood a dais, and upon that block of stone sat a throne, and in the throne lounged a person, and his eyes widened in astonishment at the sight of Hradian striding toward him. He stood, his crimson cloak swirling about his somber garb. Tall and dark he was and slender, his hair black as midnight, his eyes of the same color as well. His face was long and saturnine, his nose narrow and hooked, hawklike. His fingers were lengthy and tapered, as if made for grasping. His mouth seemed to be one that would naturally curve into a sardonic sneer. Cruelly handsome he was, yet for the nonce his face registered shock at the appearance of a woman nearing.
Hradian came and abased herself at the foot of the dais. “My lord.”
“Hradian, is it you?”
Yet on her hands and knees, Hradian looked up and simpered. “Oui, my lord.”
“They have imprisoned you as well?”
“Non, my lord. Instead, I have come to set you free.”
“Ah, you fool, you have come to your doom; this place is inescapable.”
“Non, my lord, if my studies are true, it is not, for you see I-”
Rage flashed over Orbane’s features. “Silence!” he shouted.
Hradian flinched and jerked her face toward the floor and curled in upon herself and trembled at his wrath.
Orbane seethed. “Do you not know that I, with all my power, have tried and yet failed innumerable times?”
“Yes, my lord. That I know, and yet. .”
“And yet?” he demanded.
Hradian cast a sideways glance upward. “My lord, may I rise?”
With a gesture, Orbane allowed her to her feet.
“And now, my lord, may I show you something?” Orbane sighed. “Very well.”
“Please, my lord, take my hand.”
Orbane stepped down from the dais and held out a hand, the look on his face one of exasperation. Hradian took his fingers in hers and led him toward the archway to the bridge. And as they neared-“This won’t work, Hradian, we’ll simply-” Of a sudden they were standing beyond the archway and out on the torchlit span.
Orbane gasped in surprise. Then he turned to Hradian and swept her up with a joyous whoop and whirled her about. But then with a moan he laid her to the pave of the bridge and pushed her skirt up and away from her legs, and shoved down his pants and dropped atop her, forcing himself within. And amid grunts and groans and shrieks of joy, he swived her there on the stone.
. .
Panting, his member yet erect, he looked about. “Where are your sisters? I would reward them as well.”
“Dead. Slain by the get of Valeray. Oh, Master, I would have my revenge. You must kill them for me.”
“Rhensibe, Nefasi, and Iniqui all dead?”
“Oui, my lord. Murdered by the children of he who stole two of your very own clay amulets, the seals that were used by the Firsts to cast you herein, hence Valeray is the one the most responsible for your imprisonment.”
Orbane clenched a fist, and rage flashed across his features.
“Then I shall-” Of a sudden he paused, and a look of cunning replaced that of wrath. “No, not kill him or his get. Instead, I have something even more fitting in mind. Take me to them, Hradian. Your revenge and mine will be sweet.”
“My lord, I am wearied by my journey here. Can we not retire to the quarters within and once again-”
“Non, for I would go and go now. I have seen enough of that place.”
“Very well, my lord.”
Hradian took up her besom and straddled it. Orbane straddled it right behind. He embraced her, his hands upon her breasts, his fingers kneading and tweaking. “Now, Hradian. Let us go.”
With moans of desire, Hradian mumbled arcane words, and up and away they flew: sinister, upward, at an angle from the castle, coursing along the only line leading toward Faery.
. .
With the sun now risen, Raseri neared the Black Wall. “See you any sign of the witch?”
“Non,” replied Rondalo. “The skies are clear for as far as my sight reaches.”
“Then set an arrow to your bow, for I plan on entering the Great Darkness and flying the track to the Castle of Shadows.
If she is within, I will burn her to a crisp, yet on the off chance I miss, you can feather her through and through.” As Rondalo nocked a shaft to string, with Raseri’s great wings churning, through the Black Wall they went.
“Mithras, but I cannot see,” cried Rondalo. “My bow will be useless.”
“That is of little matter, for I see dimly,” replied Raseri.
“Even so, should she escape back into Faery, well then your bow will serve, that is if I give you a chance, for I intend to rend her to shreds.”
And on into the darkness they flew, sinister and downward at an angle and on the line toward their goal.
. .
Flying with two was even more draining upon Hradian’s power.
And yet she persevered, as Orbane’s hands caressed her body, for he knew lust would increase her efficacy, raise her energy.
And he ran his questing fingers here and there, teasing, touching, and now and then she gasped as if on the verge.
But then ahead in the darkness, black on black a darker form loomed, and Hradian jerked her besom to the left even as a great gout of flame shot past. She shrilled in terror, and Orbane shouted in alarm.