Succubus 2 Page 20

  I cast another Darkbolt – which slammed against an invisible barrier and disintegrated.

  I looked over to see Varisa the Mage’s hand glowing green.

  Shit.

  Saykir just smiled in contempt, then reached out his hand and shot blue lightning through the air. Apparently his spells could go through the magical barrier.

  A split second later I was on my knees, grimacing in pain.

  “NO!” Alaria screamed. She tried to summon a fireball, but guards grabbed each of her hands – and then the symbiote shot out from Saykir’s sleeve and slammed over her mouth.

  Except a single offshoot began to slither obscenely down her body – between her breasts, across her belly, and towards her thighs.

  “Stop resisting,” Saykir snarled at me, “or I’ll treat you to hours of watching your beloved being violated. And then I will do what I was planning to do all along anyway. Your choice, little warlock.”

  I looked at Eluun.

  Tears were running down her cheeks, but she wouldn’t look at me.

  I hated her in that moment.

  I hated Saykir. Hell, I loathed him.

  I hated Varisa, and the guards, and all the other frost elves standing around watching evil being done without lifting a finger to oppose it.

  But most of all, I hated my weakness. Hated that I was unable to save the woman I loved.

  As I knelt there on the ground, I realized there was no winning this one.

  And there was no way I was going to keep fighting if it meant Alaria would suffer even more.

  I nodded, defeated.

  Saykir smirked and whipped the symbiote back into his palm.

  “Proceed,” he snarled at the guards.

  They moved us into position and forced us to lie on top of the slanted crystals. Then they pulled our arms back and tied both our wrists and ankles with leather straps that reached around the ice columns. Finally, they pushed our bodies to the side so that we swung around and dangled facedown over the pit.

  The pain from my arms getting cranked back was excruciating – and I was pretty sure things were only going to get worse from here.

  I looked over at Alaria twenty feet away. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ve been better.” Then she called out, “I didn’t know you liked such giant holes, Saykir! Or is it supposed to be symbolic of how it looks right before you stick your naughty bits inside a woman? The relative scale is about right.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “SILENCE!” Saykir screamed, then hit Alaria with a burst of Darkfire.

  I winced as she thrashed in pain, and prayed she wouldn’t say anything more.

  She didn’t.

  Once he was assured of her submissiveness, Saykir walked out on the platform jutting over the pit. He raised his hands for silence, then addressed the hundreds of frost elves standing in formation around the pit.

  “Over the last 24 hours I have come to the unfortunate realization that no matter how much kindness I show some of my wayward children – and their friends – they will inevitably betray me and stab in the back.”

  Bastard –

  “That’s not what happened at all!” I yelled.

  A burst of Darkfire left me writhing in agony.

  Once he was satisfied I would be quiet, Saykir turned back to his sermon.

  “I have tried to embrace the teachings of Goddess Jaiya. I truly have. You know this to be true – we have all worshiped together as a community.”

  Ew.

  The image of him ‘worshipping’ together with the rest of his ‘community’ was repugnant to say the least.

  “But today has drawn me back to the inescapable conclusion that the Old Gods are the most powerful… and they are the ones best suited to deal with this outrage. Sometimes, the old ways truly are the best ways.

  “And now… kneel.”

  Every single frost elf standing around the pit looked at each other in alarm, then looked to Eluun for guidance.

  The high priestess stood there, ramrod straight, her face frozen in panic.

  “I SAID KNEEL!” Saykir screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth.

  Eluun nodded once, and all thousand frost elves hesitantly got down on their knees. Even the soldiers knelt, their spears held vertically beside them.

  Saykir began to chant in a guttural language. Whorls of black energy spiraled from his hands through the air and down to the bottom of the pit, which began to fill with shadows that sloshed and moved like water.

  I was wondering what the hell was going on when I saw the first tentacle emerge from the darkness.

  Holy shit.

  And it wasn’t just tentacles this time. There were misshapen bodies, like statues made of black wax melting in a fire. Mouths with gnashing teeth on symbiote-like stalks. Assorted limbs both insectoid and reptilian, but all made out of oozing black darkness.

  As the liquid energy began to fill up the bottom of the pit, larger and larger monstrosities emerged from the shadows to claw and slither their way up the sides. A low, gurgling rumble mixed with screams from some faraway place.

  It was like somebody had crossbred Venom, Hellraiser, and the Sarlacc pit from Return of the Jedi.

  I gasped as I realized exactly what this meant: Saykir was going to sacrifice both of us to the things in the pit.

  The Old Gods.

  For me personally, it wasn’t a matter of life and death. No matter what happened, Westek was going to be able to pull me out of the long-term immersion rig. I would survive even if my videogame character didn’t.

  But Alaria?

  If what had happened to that orange pirate was any indication, Alaria was not going to exist anymore after all this was over.

  And that terrified me.

  Whatever the tortures I’d suffered at Saykir’s hands, this was far, far worse.

  But why would he go to this much trouble? Why all this overkill?

  If he wanted to get rid of us, all he needed to do was open up a single portal and throw us in. He’d created a half dozen of them back in the ice canyons.

  What he was doing now was severely depleting his mana. The amount of magical energy necessary to conjure a portal of this size and keep it open continuously was immense – and it was exacting a toll on him.

  Then I looked around at all the frost elves circling the pit, and I knew why he was doing it.

  This was a display of power.

  This was meant to terrorize every single person watching.

  All to cement Saykir’s status as the unquestioned, unopposed leader of the frost elves.

  I remembered what he’d told me:

  A single, excessive display of power tends to dissuade future aggressions.

  That’s what he was doing now – strangling any rebellion in its cradle.

  He wanted fear, submission, and subservience.

  If that would save Alaria, then I’d give it to him – my own pride be damned.

  “Saykir!” I yelled. “I’m sorry – please, I’m begging you, don’t do this!”

  He turned around to face me, his expression one of smug triumph.

  “Not so arrogant now, are we?” he sneered. “Not so ‘cocky.’ Or do you plan to use your ‘magic wand’ to save you?”

  “Look, I’ll do anything – ”

  Alaria stared at me in both shock and anger, like she couldn’t believe how much of a coward I was.

  Until I said the next thing.

  “ – just spare her. You can do whatever you want with me. Just please, let her go.”

  Alaria’s face softened, and I thought she might cry.

  Saykir, though, wasn’t moved at all – unless sadistic humor is the same as ‘being moved.’

  He burst out laughing. “Fool! I shall savor seeing both of you begin your eternal damnation in the pit of the Ung’aroth!”

  I looked down at the shadows rising higher, the tentacles straining towards us. Towards Alaria.

  I looked over at he
r in panic. “Beg him for your life!”

  “No,” she refused.

  “Look, I’ll make it out of this even if I die, but you won’t! Beg him – PLEASE! For me!”

  She looked at me in silence, her expression fearful – and then I think she reached acceptance. A serene calm passed over her face.

  “Saykir,” she called out. “If I vow to become your servant again, will you grant me a wish?”

  He squinted at her. “Will you wholly and completely submit to me?”

  “…yes.”

  “Even for a thousand years?”

  “Yes.”

  “In return for your life?”

  “No,” she said as she looked at me. “In return for his.”

  My heart nearly broke in two.

  But I couldn’t allow her to do it.

  “No – Alaria, no!”

  But Saykir being an asshole removed the need for anybody to make any sacrifices.

  “You can save your entreaties, whore,” he sneered. “No pleasure you can offer could match the satisfaction of knowing your torment shall continue for all eternity.”

  Her voice back to normal, Alaria called out, “Well, then, fuck you and your little limp dick.”

  The entire congregation of frost elves gasped.

  Saykir’s eyes both bugged out, and half a dozen pulsing veins stood out on his forehead and neck. I could see them clearly even from this distance.

  “YOU WILL PAY FOR THAT!” he screamed as he doubled his mana output, sending more black energy into the pit.

  The shadows rose faster. The tentacles climbed higher.

  This was the end.

  “I love you,” I called out to Alaria.

  She looked at me and said with a deadpan face, “I know.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock.

  That little –

  She burst out laughing, and so did I.

  Even in the face of eternal torment, she knew how to get me. I had to admit, she embodied Han Solo better than I ever could.

  Then she winked… grew solemn… and mouthed, I love you, too.

  My eyes misted up and my cheeks hurt, I was smiling so big. I’d never felt so strong a combination of joy and sadness at the same time.

  Then I looked down.

  The tentacles were only ten feet away from us, weaving like faceless cobras through the air.

  Terror rose up in me like a flood.

  “Ian – look at me,” Alaria called out.

  I looked over at her.

  “Don’t look down. Just look at me,” she said, and smiled sweetly as a tear rolled down her cheek. “I want the last thing we see to be each other.”

  I nodded as I choked up. I tried to focus only on her face, burn it into my memory, imprint it on my mind.

  This was going to be the last time I ever saw her, and I never wanted to forget how beautiful and sweet and kind she was in that moment.

  Suddenly a distant rumbling started above us in the sky.

  Not thunder. It was higher-pitched, continuous, and growing steadily in volume.

  We looked up in shock, as did the thousand frost elves. They began to back away from the direction of the noise, congregating on the other side of the pit.

  Saykir peered up at the dome of the cathedral, angry and confused. “What in the Abyss is that?!”

  The rumbling increased until the foundations of the building began to vibrate –

  And then the bow of the Revenge crashed through the side of the cathedral, shattering the dome and sending car-sized chunks of ice tumbling into the pit below.

  All the frost elves screamed and scrambled backwards.

  The only thing that saved Saykir was Varisa casting a shield over him. Gigantic chunks of ice bounced off the invisible bubble and splashed into the pool of writhing darkness below.

  As the Revenge gouged an enormous furrow in the ice floor and ground to a halt, a familiar little grey figure hopped up on the prow of the ship.

  “Sorry we’re late, boss!” Stig shouted, then leapt off the ship onto the icy ground below.

  Holy SHIT.

  I guess somebody else got to be Han Solo today, too.

  Stig was followed by 50 badass demon pirates screaming at the top of their lungs, shooting fireballs and electrical bolts directly at Saykir, jumping off the deck and using ropes to rappel down to the floor of the cathedral.

  There was Krug leading the charge. And there was Shee blasting out her sonic attacks.

  A rather non-badass blue demon leapt off the deck, too, got his foot tangled in the ropes, and tumbled like a badly spun yoyo all the way to the icy floor.

  “Owwww,” Dorp said in his breathy, high-pitched voice.

  I was even overjoyed to see him.

  The pirates’ attacks all dissipated against the invisible shield surrounding Saykir, but I could tell it was weakening by the static-like shockwaves that fitzed over its surface.

  “NO!” Saykir raged as he shrank back from the barrage of flame and lightning.

  I wondered why he wasn’t attacking – and then I saw the reason: his mana bar was close to zero. He’d wasted nearly all his magical power on summoning the Old Gods to the pit.

  But he still had somebody else to do his dirty work. Or so he thought.

  “CHILDREN – KILL THEM!” he raged.

  But the ‘children’ didn’t act right away.

  Instead they looked again to Eluun.

  The high priestess stood there trembling, unsure what to do.

  “Eluun!” I shouted. “Please – we need you!”

  Varisa started moving her arms to cast a spell, a look of pure hatred on her face –

  That was when Eluun leapt into action.

  She swung her arm through the air and hit Varisa with a savage arc of light that knocked the Mage off her feet.

  “YEAH!” Alaria and I both howled in delight.

  “NOOOO!” Saykir raged as the shield failed and the fireballs and lightning strikes began to pummel him.

  Stig scampered around the edge of the pit and came racing up to me.

  “Alaria first!” I yelled, and he darted up the ramp of her ice crystal.

  “Free my feet first!” she said.

  Stig put his hands together and shot a fireball blank range at the leather straps binding her ankles. Unfortunately they must have been magical, just like the ones that Kel had used to tie me up in bed, because they only appeared slightly singed.

  “Keep working at it, Stig!” I shouted.

  All around us, the frost elves were fighting. The guards seemed to have all gone for Saykir, with nearly everyone else fighting for Eluun. They engaged in a savage battle of spears versus magic, with fire, frost, and lightning blasting through the air.

  Though Eluun had a limited number of attacks – she was primarily a healer, after all – she used them savagely, whaling away at the Mage with a fury I wouldn’t have thought possible from her. Varisa was up to the challenge, unfortunately, and gave almost as good as she got.

  The pirates were still blasting away at Saykir. Some of them helped the frost elves in attacking the guards, too.

  And the Warlock himself? While his hit points were merely dented at 91%, he had no mana left after summoning the Old Gods. He was basically powerless.

  Until he pulled out Mana Conversion.

  It was a spell I had, too. I’d gained it around Level 7, back before Abaddon.

  Mana Conversion meant that I could trade in 25% of my Health for 20% mana. It was the Faustian bargain of spells – the ability to gain back some of your power for giving away a significant chunk of your life force.

  Apparently Saykir decided to shake hands with the devil, because I saw his Health drop to 66%, but his Mana bar leapt up to 20%.

  And then he did it again, dropping to 41% Health for 40% of his overall mana.

  All on his own, he had inflicted more damage on himself than all the pirates could have, combined.

  Of course, he wasn’t exactly
in the danger zone yet. And at his level, 40% Mana was more than enough to raze a small town.

  Plus he had one more ace up his sleeve.

  The counterpoint to Mana Conversion was Soul Suck. Yes, with Mana Conversion you gave away your hit points to gain mana – but with that mana you could cast Soul Suck and replenish your Health while doing massive damage to your enemies.

  Which is exactly what Saykir did.

  Bolts of blue lightning flew from his hands, blasting a swath across the pirate crew as he screamed in rage. His hit points immediately began to creep back up – 42%, 43%, 44%. They probably would have gone back up even faster, but he was taking a constant barrage of damage from the pirates in the form of fireballs and lightning.

  Still, Saykir was weakening the pirates, too, and their attacks began to falter as a result.

  I watched in horror as Saykir fought back – and appeared to be winning.

  Worse than that, he was completely calm. In fact, he was grinning sadistically, as though he was enjoying himself. It had probably been ages since he’d been in a real fight, one where his powers were put to the test, and he seemed to relish the challenge.

  Stig finally burned away the leather straps binding Alaria’s feet around the bottom of the shard.

  I had been afraid that all that heat might damage the base of the column and cause it to snap off and fall into the pit. I needn’t have worried: the crystal was as thick as a small oak at its base, and Stig’s fireballs had only melted away a tenth of the ice – which had dripped away as water and refrozen almost immediately, like liquid wax congealing on the sides of a candle.

  As the leather straps disintegrated, Alaria’s feet came unbound and dangled over the pit. Gravity caused her to slide down the ice post, and she winced as her arms were pulled farther apart by the widening column.

  “Alaria!” I screamed.

  “It’s all right – hold on!” she yelled.

  She lashed her tail onto the crystal and strained, using it to pull her up and across so that her body ended up lying on top of the column instead of hanging from it. Once the pressure was off her arms, she began to burn through the wrist bindings herself.

  “Stig, go help Ian!” she yelled. “Do his feet first so he doesn’t topple headfirst into the pit!”

  The pit.

  I looked down –

  SHIT.

  Even though Saykir had stopped using his magic, the black liquid still seemed to be growing. The longest tentacles were only a meter away from my feet.