Duel With A Demoness (A Huntsman's Fate Book 2) Read online

  He’s your friend.

  Joranas looked at the departing back of the man who had almost just died and realized his thought had been right. Whatever force was controlling Whint, whatever odd thing he might be, he was Joranas’ friend. The only one he had at the moment.

  “Whint, wait!” Joranas called as he trotted after the strange man.

  “Wait!” Whint repeated, his voice carried off by the wind.

  Joranas smiled, wondering what life would be like if Whint was no longer there to repeat his words.

  A thousand knives cut into Besmir’s chest and belly. The searing pain brought his consciousness back from the brink of death and he looked up to where something was dragging him through the sharp ash of Hell. A moan escaped his lips and the thing paused for a second before continuing to pull him through the gray ash.

  Besmir looked to where the thing that dragged him had hold of his arm. Its fingers dug into his flesh but there was no pain even though it looked as if the thing had snapped the bones in his wrist. From there, his gaze moved up, following the line of its arm, until he saw a shoulder, neck, and head. Wisps of fine hair sprouted from its translucent scalp and Besmir could make out a few strips of substance that might have been cloth or flesh wrapped about the thing’s form.

  His consciousness fled for a time, delving into the depths of blackness in which he could still feel the pain of being dragged across the gray ash. Eventually the quality of the pain changed and he understood he had stopped moving. With a monumental effort of will, Besmir forced his eyes open.

  The gray ash of Hell still cradled his form but, just before him, the surface curved and disappeared into a cold blackness that he had only encountered once before. Whatever had been dragging him had brought him to the edge of the absence, right to Porantillia’s doorstep.

  Wearily Besmir turned his ancient head, the muscles barely able to support his head as he sought to discover who or what had brought him here. A shock of complete horror jerked through him when he saw the insanely grinning face that lay beside him.

  Tiernon’s spirit had been ravaged beyond anything Besmir could have believed. Even so it was obviously his uncle that lay there. Besmir’s mind whirled when he realized he had doomed Tiernon to this plane a decade before. With the increased passage of time here, Tiernon must have spent centuries being tortured by the things that inhabited this world. Besmir shuddered. No wonder Tiernon looked as if he was a broken shell of his former self. His heart hardened when he recalled the atrocities Tiernon had carried out, however, the women and children dead by his hand.

  No, this is what he deserves.

  “I’m here,” Besmir said.

  The cracked whisper that came from his throat was barely loud enough for him to hear and he swallowed, his ancient throat clicking dryly, before trying again.

  “Porantillia,” he whispered. “I’m here.”

  No reply came and Besmir felt his body continuing to die. His breaths came ever more slowly and his heartbeat was erratic, pounding one second and almost stopping the next.

  Beside him Tiernon’s spirit sat up, the fixed rictus of his grin a horrible sight to behold. It looked to Besmir as if Tiernon had enjoyed everything that had happened to him here. As if, rather than a punishment, his sojourn in Hell had been a holiday.

  Slack jawed and vacant of expression, however, Tiernon reached out and pushed Besmir, tipping him into the midnight cold of the absence.

  It consumed him utterly. The absence wormed its way into every part of his psyche and body, sapping his will and energy. Initially depression and despair consumed him pulling his mind down into a spiral of misery from which there was no hope of escape. Besmir’s thoughts revolved around every mistake, real or perceived, he had ever made. Any offhand comment he had made to Arteera without thinking or any time he had put something before spending time with Joranas came to the forefront of his mind to be relived and analyzed. Hours, possibly days or years, passed in this state, with Besmir focused entirely on every negative aspect of his existence.

  Eventually, drained and weak, Besmir could barely feel anything. There was no pain, no sadness, no joy. No anything. The absence had pulled everything from him, leaving him cold and empty.

  “Dost thou like my prison?” Porantillia asked.

  Her voice was the multitude he had heard in his dream but Besmir could not muster the will to care, let alone answer. A single thought echoed inside his head.

  Let me die.

  “Thou hast been here the time it takes for a bird’s heart to beat and this is the result,” Porantillia mocked. “It has been my home for thousands of years. Is it possible for thee to even comprehend the torture I have been forced to endure?”

  Besmir drifted through the absolute cold created from the anguish of four Gods, unable to bring himself to care about anything. Joranas did not matter. Arteera did not matter. Nor did Gazluth and its people. Nothing mattered now that he was here.

  Besmir floated, unable to muster the will to live and felt his mind slipping away. It did not matter. Once he had ceased to exist, once the absence had drained him completely there would be nothing left at all.

  At the point his final thoughts began to fade, Besmir felt something tickle at the base of his skull. His will dribbled back bringing thoughts of his son and wife with it.

  What was I thinking?

  “Hello!” Besmir called, his words hollow and empty.

  “Thou hast no need to shout,” Porantillia said from every direction.

  “Where’s my son?” Besmir demanded.

  “Safe,” the voices said together.

  “What do you want me for?” he asked.

  A single pinpoint of light appeared in the distance, growing fast as it approached Besmir. Arms and legs sprouted from the central mass along with a head so, by the time Porantillia reached where Besmir hung in the absence, she was fully formed.

  His gaze raked over her form, more beautiful and sensual than any human could possibly hope to be. Long hair draped her perfect skin, inviting his touch by its very existence. Besmir’s hands ached as he fought for control, his palms almost needing to touch her body. Utterly naked, nothing was hidden from his gaze and Besmir’s entire body responded to Porantillia’s sensuality with animalistic desire.

  Porantillia chuckled, a deep throaty sound that could drive men insane.

  “In truth, I could have chosen anyone to free me,” Porantillia said, grazing her naked buttocks over Besmir. “However, thou chose to thwart my deal with Tiernon and I became sore vexed with thee for that.”

  Besmir clamped his teeth together as Porantillia breathed down his neck, sending tingles shooting down his entire body, the warmth of her breath like a lifeline in this place.

  “I have lent thee some of my will to live in this prison lest thou become lost ere we leave.”

  “I’m not going to set you free,” Besmir declared hotly.

  Porantillia drew back, clothing shimmering into existence to cover her nudity, and fixed Besmir with a stern look.

  “Thou shalt aid in my release or thy son shall die horribly and thou shalt witness it.”

  “You can’t be allowed out,” Besmir said vehemently. “You’ll kill everyone.”

  “My thoughts of vengeance have waned over the millennia,” Porantillia assured him. “Cathantor and Mwondi may keep their little pets, I no longer seek their destruction, merely release from this prison.”

  “How is it someone so powerful needs me to escape?”

  “When it was that the bastard offspring of Gratallach did seek to imprison me here they also destroyed my celestial host,” Porantillia said.

  Besmir frowned, not understanding.

  “Cathantor along with his merry little brothers and sisters killed my body,” she spat, the million voices that issued from her throat all sounding equally angry. “Tiernon was to become my host until thy sword ended him. When it was that I sensed the opportunity to kidnap thy son I realized my plans could come to fru
ition.”

  “And you think I’m just going to let you have my body to do as you please?” Besmir asked in a mocking tone. “You don’t know me at all.”

  “I need not know thee, Besmir,” Porantillia said triumphantly. “As thy form is mine for the taking!”

  Porantillia darted towards Besmir, diving for his chest almost as if she were aiming for a pool of water. Hands clasped prayer-like before her, she shot towards him like an arrow. Besmir struggled in vain to avoid her, but nothing he tried made any difference to the position of his body. Helplessly, he watched as Porantillia dove into his chest, filling his body with her light.

  It felt to Besmir as if he were a passenger in his own body. He could see and hear, feel the world around him but had absolutely no control whatsoever. Worse, he could recall her memories, thousands of centuries of memories that cut into him. He could feel the hollow hate when Gratallach took another.

  Why am I not good enough? What does she have I do not?

  He had flown into a jealous rage when they had borne offspring.

  Mine. They should have been mine!

  Besmir thrilled in the satisfaction as he slammed into Gratallach, smashing at him with raw, hate-fueled power. Gratallach bellowed in raw agony as Besmir carried on his attack, shoving his immense body towards a star. Gratallach screamed as the heat seared his immortal body, burning and irradiating him at the same time as the intense pressure ground at him.

  Besmir floated in the star’s corona, listening to his former lover screaming his agony. He knew these were Porantillia’s memories but was living them as if they were his own. With Gratallach imprisoned in a flaming Hell, Besmir turned his attention to Coranstansia.

  Gratallach’s lover cowered on a planet she had brought to life. Blue and red trees filled the valley she was in but Besmir located her with ease. He dropped into the atmosphere, barely feeling the burn as he flew down to the surface of the planet. He saw the army she had gathered, pathetic and weak creatures Besmir smashed into pulp with a thought. Coranstansia lit the sky with burning power aimed at Besmir but he sneered as he batted it aside. This would be no battle of powers, he would rip her to shreds with his hands.

  He drew near, ignorant of the screams coming from the simple creatures Coranstansia had surrounded herself with and grabbed her body, launching them both out into space.

  “What hast thou done with Gratallach?” Coranstansia begged. “Does he live still?”

  “He lives,” Besmir said darkly. “If thee were any more than a child thee would be aware I cannot end Gratallach. Thee, however...thee is a different matter.”

  Besmir swept around one of the planet’s moons, shoving Coranstansia before him and using the moon’s gravity to speed up. He aimed at the planet he had drawn Coranstansia from and streaked towards it at incredible speed.

  “I shall end thy children,” Besmir told the other Goddess as he released her.

  He watched as Coranstansia slipped into the atmosphere, her immense form punching through the gases and burning incandescently. He had achieved such a velocity that Coranstansia smashed through the crust and deep into the molten core. Unable to remain together the planet cracked like an egg, magma exploding over the surface as it exploded. Coranstansia, along with the lives she had created, perished in a shower of burning rock. What remained of her body mingled with the cooling parts of the planet as it slowly drifted into a new orbit around the nearby star.

  Thousands of other memories flooded Besmir as he fought to control his own body, the deaths of entire worlds at his hands simply because the beings that resided there had been created by Sharise or Mwondi.

  His mind shied away from trying to recall when they had trapped him in the absence, that hated eternal prison of despair where he had spent millennia, his will slowly being drained.

  He watched as Mwondi led his brothers and sisters to attack her body, shredding the very fibers of her being and scattering it across the universe to be lost forever.

  “Thou hast been cast into the absence to serve out thy days where thou cannot destroy us or our creations,” Mwondi had said.

  Besmir recalled screaming then, screaming for thousands of years before plotting his escape, plotting his revenge.

  All these memories came to him as soon as Porantillia took him over and Besmir had to assume she was able to recall his life too, wondering if she was as affected by the loss of Joranas as he had felt when it had happened.

  Besmir watched as he approached a lighter area and realized this was the entrance to Hell, the border where the absence began. The pathetic remains of Tiernon’s soul, shredded and battered, still lay before the entrance and a flash of hate flicked through him when he saw it.

  Porantillia raised Besmir’s right hand and grabbed Tiernon’s soul, flinging it into the absence as they passed. Both felt satisfaction as he disappeared into the blackness to be drained of what little energy he had left.

  Besmir watched as Porantillia walked his body through Hell. Her incredible life force maintained his form easily despite the acidic winds and needle sharp ashes that threatened to shred his skin. Like a passenger in his own body Besmir could only watch as Porantillia crossed the apparently endless gray landscape of Hell towards a destination only she knew.

  When he began to recognize a few of the features his eyes picked up Besmir started to thrash inside his mind. The alternating stripes of gray, the pond fed by a stream that began in midair and the tree he saw were all features his father had crafted through the power of his will.

  No! Porantillia leave him alone.

  Porantillia gave no sign she even heard Besmir’s shout, however, and approached the house as if she belonged there.

  “Besmir?” Joranas senior demanded in shock. “By the Gods, son, what are you doing here?”

  Besmir’s father had changed even further since he had seen him last. The horns that swept back from his skull had grown longer and begun to twist, spiraling away from his head like a parody of hair. The heavy scales that covered his body had thickened to the point it looked as if he was having difficulty in moving, his limbs limited in their range of motion until he was forced to shuffle along.

  “Don’t worry, father,” Besmir heard himself say. “I got trapped here but now I need to get back. My son needs me.”

  The real Besmir felt a flash of hate for Porantillia when he heard her use the son she had kidnapped and put at risk as an excuse.

  “Wait,” Joranas senior said. “How did you get trapped here?”

  “It’s a long story, father, I really have to get back to Gazluth.”

  “There’s something you need to know first,” Joranas senior said. “Something came through here not long ago. I think she sent it. It knew about the portal and it was...tough.” His father’s voice was muffled by the heavy scaling around his mouth. “I tried to fight it but it was far too strong,” he added. “I thought you ought to know.”

  “Thank you father,” Porantillia said with Besmir’s voice. “I should not worry about him. I really do need to return now.”

  Joranas senior raised his head in acknowledgment but made no move to assist his son.

  “Father?” Besmir heard Porantillia ask with his voice.

  The real Besmir smiled inside his own mind at the knowledge his father knew something was amiss.

  “It has been a long time since you rested here with me,” Joranas senior stated calmly. “Can you not stay for even a brief conversation?”

  “No, father,” Porantillia said with an edge of exasperation. “I have to get back to try and find my son.”

  “Of course,” Joranas said. “It is a shame we cannot catch up. Still, I wish you the best on your return.”The large, demonic spirit spread his scaled hands to the empty garden he had fashioned with his thoughts.

  “What are we doing out here?” Porantillia asked.

  “Waiting,” Joranas said calmly.

  “For what?”

  “For you to tell me who you really are an
d where my son is.”

  Porantillia laughed through Besmir’s throat before cocking his hip in a feminine way and tilting his head.

  “The portal,” she demanded. “Now!”

  Joranas senior lashed out at Besmir, his taloned hand a blur of speed as he aimed for his son’s eyes. Porantillia, however, anticipated the attack and Besmir watched as his father’s hand exploded from a barrier she conjured. Joranas stumbled back, clutching his hand as it healed instantly.

  “Open the portal,” Porantillia said as she used Besmir’s hand to grip Joranas’ throat.

  Besmir watched helplessly as his fingers clamped around his father’s throat, digging in hard. While it was true his father’s spirit could not be choked, the pain and panic he felt was just as real.

  Besmir thrashed and screamed inside his own mind, completely unable to affect Porantillia in any way. Her triumph rang in his mind as she squeezed Joranas’ throat, shaking him as a dog would with a rope. His father rained fruitless blows against him but Porantillia’s barrier reflected his attacks, both physical and magical. Lightning flowed from Joranas’ hands dripping from the shield Porantillia had erected in the same way his fire had.

  Unable to stop her from torturing his father Besmir searched through her memories for something that might halt her. Looking back through her long history Besmir found the memory of a face, a being she had loved and a single word came to him.

  Gratallach.

  Besmir latched onto the image, strengthening it in his own mind and lashing it at the part of him that was now Porantillia. Hate filled sorrow flooded his mind then as she recalled what she had done to her former love. The searing heat that swallowed him when she sealed him inside a star had ripped at her too but it had been his screams of agony that hurt her more.