Crown of Dragonfire (15 page)

Ishtafel turned toward
the voice, and he smiled thinly. "And hunting is what you crave."

He flew closer to her
cell.

"Leyleet," he
whispered.

She smiled at him
between her bars—a sly, hungry smile. "Little Ishtafel. The boy I once spanked
over my knee now wishes me to spank his sister, am I right?"

Leyleet. Leader of the
Sixteen. Once chief bodyguard to the Thirteenth Dynasty. Her hair had once been
golden. The curse had left it white as milk, smooth and so long it hung down to
her hips. Her eyes had once been golden, the pupils shaped as sunbursts. They
now peered at him, pale like bowls of milk, the pupils a black slit. Her wings
had once been soft and feathered. They were now black, veined with red, tipped
with cruel claws like daggers. Yet she was still beautiful—still alluring with
the curves of her body, the crookedness of her smile, the mocking intelligence
in her eyes.

The memory returned to
him—himself as a youth, only thirteen, peering through the lock of her
chamber, savoring her nakedness. And her—already a century old, already so
strong—knowing he was there, peering right at the lock, then grabbing him,
striking him as if he were a child. He had never forgotten that humiliation.
And he had never forgotten his lust for her.

"If I recall correctly,
you knew me as a man as well." He refused to look away from those mocking eyes.
"You used to scream so loudly in my bed the whole ziggurat heard."

She snorted a laugh. "You
speak of me as if I were one of your paramours, a mere pleasure slave from the
pits. And yet you loved me, Ishtafel. How you used to confess your love to me!
How you begged your mother to let me be your wife! Oh, my poor Ishtafel . . .
we would have made such a king and queen of Saraph. And now you are king . . .
and now you are alone. The one who would be your queen fled from you. And so
you come to me again, as you came to my chamber as a youth to gaze upon my
nakedness." Her crooked smile grew. "Perhaps I need to spank you a second time."

He flew closer toward
her cell. She leaned forward, gripping the bars, and he wrapped his hands
around hers. He brought his face so close to hers that their noses almost
touched. Gods, she still smelled the same, even here in her prison—the scent
of sweet sweat and sex, more intoxicating than wine.

"What you need to do,"
he said softly, "is to fly out there, find Meliora, and bring her back to me
alive." He pulled out a silken bundle and tossed it between the bars. It hit
the floor of her cell and unfolded. "Meliora's nightgown. Smell it. Memorize
that smell. And track her down like a hound tracks a hare."

Leyleet raised the
nightgown to her nose, inhaled deeply, and smiled. "Your sister smells like
honey and milk and the crotch of a whore."

"You will bring her to
me," Ishtafel said. "Unsullied. Do this and I will release you from this
prison."

She snorted. "And you
will return my halo, my swan wings, let me play harps and sing pretty little
songs with Meliora in your pretty little palace?" She scoffed. "I'd rather stay
in this cell."

He growled. "Your curse
I will not undo. You betrayed my family, Leyleet. You might have struck me as a
child, but that was negligible compared to how you struck my family. My mother
rebelled against the gods, woman. Did you really think you could rise up
against the mistress of rebellion?"

Her eyes narrowed the
slightest, her first sign of anger. "Your mother lost her rebellion."

"As did you."

She screamed. She
thrust herself forward, pressing her face between the bars, snapping her teeth,
nearly biting off his nose. He pulled back just an inch, laughing, and she spat
on his face.

"Maybe I will bring
Meliora back to your corpse, boy!" She tossed back her head and howled. "Maybe
I will rule over that decadent cage of gold you call a palace, and maybe I will
sleep in that soft, silken bed where you knew me so many times. I could not
dethrone Kalafi, it's true; the whore was too clever. But I can easily kill
you."

He tilted his head,
amused. "And yet . . . and yet, Leyleet, I quite easily killed Kalafi. And I
will quite easily snap that pretty little neck of yours. You bruised me once
when I displeased you. If you displease me now, your punishment will be far
more severe."

She stared at him, and
for an instant her eyes blazed with unadulterated hatred. Then she laughed. Her
leathern wings spread out, banging against the walls of her cell, and her chest
heaved with her mirth.

"Do you remember what I
told you when you were a boy, Ishtafel? When you gazed upon my naked breasts,
coveting them, an awkward youth kneeling before a keyhole?"

He nodded. "You struck
a deal with me. You told me that I could have your treasures if only I waited,
if only I did not touch another woman for five years—then you would be mine.
All I had to do was wait."

She nodded. "I have
been waiting here for very long. And now we will make another deal. You will
free me and my fifteen, and yes, Ishtafel . . . we will hunt your escaped
sister. But I ask for one more thing."

"In addition to your
freedom?" He frowned. "I should think that a gift great enough."

"Not enough. That would
not be vengeance. I will bring you Meliora, and in return, you will bring me
the bones of Kalafi, so that I will bury them here. Here in this cavern. Here I
will toss them into the pit, and I will piss on them, and I will leave them to
rot, while I return to the ziggurat and sleep in her bed, eat at her table,
fill her pool with milk." Her eyes simmered, and her hands shook around the
bars. "Kalafi's soul will be trapped here where she trapped us, while I and my
fifteen live in her splendor. That is what I demand for Meliora's life." The
dark seraph winked at him. "Maybe, as you sleep next door, I'll even let you
peek through the lock now and then."

Oh, I won't need to
peek,
Leyleet,
Ishtafel thought.
I will walk in and claim you in
my mother's bed whenever I like.

He pulled out a key and
he unlocked her cell. He pulled the bars open.

After centuries in
prison, he expected her to leap out, to charge to freedom, to fly into the sky
and scream and laugh.

But instead she grabbed
him. She pulled him into her cell. She bared her clenched teeth, gripping his
shoulders.

"You do not crave the
sky?" he asked her.

She sneered into his
ear, her body pressed against him. "There is something I've craved more all
these years."

Her claws tore through
his gilded steel armor, as effortlessly as a child tearing paper. Those claws
nicked his skin, and her teeth bit his shoulder, and he ripped off her clothes,
again seeing that forbidden flesh.

He pressed her against
the wall. She shoved him back, roaring, and knocked him down, cracking the
stone. Their bodies joined, skin against skin, sweat mingling. They screamed in
their passion, and around them across the canyon, the other dark seraphim
screamed too.

Finally she screamed
with a sound that nearly shattered his eardrums, and her claws ripped his skin.
She panted, spat, and pushed him away.

"Now," she whispered
and licked him, "we fly."

Ishtafel had walked to
this canyon alone, lost in his thoughts. He flew out, soaring high, leading
sixteen hunters with dark wings.

 
 
VALE

"Tash, wait!" Vale hurried
after her. "It's not safe."

She spun toward him,
holding up the golden coin. "Gold, Vale!" Her eyes shone just as brightly, and
she bit the coin. "Real gold! And there's more."

The young woman spun
around, her silken trousers and long brown hair fluttering. She raced forward a
few steps across the grass, knelt, and lifted another coin.

Vale grumbled as he
followed. The morning sun was already high in the sky, and the chariots of fire
could return any moment. Yet instead of seeking shelter—a burrow between
boulders, a hideaway under tree roots, maybe a cave if they could find one—the
damn girl was running away from the river, seeking her treasures in the
grasslands.

"You're going to get
lost!" he called after her. "What good is gold to us anyway? We're escaped
slaves, Tash. Are you going to walk back into Shayeen—where every seraph is
waiting to slay you—and go shopping?"

But she seemed too
excited to listen. She ran a few steps farther, then knelt again. She lifted
another golden coin, turned around, and showed it to him. "That's seventeen so far.
Every few steps I find one. Must be a wealthy man walked here, a hole in his
purse. I'm going to collect them all."

Vale groaned, trudging
after her. "Why, Tash? For pity's sake, just one coin's enough, if we're going
to find the Chest of Plenty. You can duplicate it along with the Keeper's Key."

"But it might be a
while until we find the chest." Tash knelt, lifted another coin, and whooped in
triumph. "Oh, look, this one is platinum. Platinum is even more valuable than
gold, did you know?" She bit this coin too. "I had to give up all my jewels as
bribes, but I'm going to be rich again soon, Vale." She nodded. "I'm going to
be the richest woman who ever lived, more than a queen."

"And yet still wear an
iron collar," Vale muttered, "unless we get back to our quest."

As she raced ahead and
he followed, Vale thought back to Tofet. Back in that hellish land, he would
pray for an extra bowl of gruel, an extra few moments to catch his breath
between forming bricks. Gold? What use was that? They had come here on a quest
for freedom, not wealth. Unless . . .

Vale thought back to
his last night at home. When Tash had spoken of the Chest of Plenty, her eyes
had lit up. She had been safeguarding her map for years, she had claimed,
dreaming of finding the chest, of duplicating her jewels, of growing wealthy
enough to buy her freedom. Could it be that . . . that Tash had come here not
for Requiem's freedom but to fulfill that old dream?

He looked up and saw
that she had raced far ahead, entering a grove of olive trees on a hilltop. He
ran in pursuit. If she wouldn't listen to reason, he would grab her. He would
drag her back to their path. They must keep traveling east to the sea, not on
this chase for useless coins.

"Tash," he began, "now
listen, this is enough. We turn back now and—"

Movement ahead made him
bite down on his words.

Tash froze. Vale
reached her. They both stared, eyes wide.

A long creature walked
ahead on many legs, the length and width of a lemon tree's trunk. Its segmented
body was black but shimmered with hints of green and purple in the sunlight. A
humanlike head grew from it, sprouting thick black hair and a long, shaggy
beard. As it ambled forward, it paused, crouched, and expelled a golden coin
from its backside.

Tash gasped. "A goldshitter!"
She began spitting and scraping her tongue. "And I bit those coins!"

Vale would have laughed
had the creature not spun around, hissed, and charged toward them. More hisses
rose from behind, and Vale turned to see three more creatures drop from the
olive trees. They too looked like long, segmented centipedes with dark armor,
and they too sprouted humanoid heads with bushy beards. They bared sharp teeth
and raised claws. For the first time, Vale noticed that several human skeletons
lay between the trees, coated with ivy.

"You led us right into
a trap!" Vale said.

Tash was busy spitting
and scrubbing her tongue against her sleeve. "I bit it! I bit its poop!"

"Draw your dagger, damn
it." Vale hefted his spear. All around, the centipedes approached.

Tash spat and drew her
blade just as the creatures pounced.

With a cry, Vale thrust
his spear.

One of the monsters
leaped at him, mouth opening wide, dripping saliva. Its bulging eyes blazed
under bushy black eyebrows. Its front feet reached out, tipped with claws, and
Vale crouched and leaped sideways. His spear's blade scraped across the
creature's scales, scattering sparks but doing the beast no harm.

Tash stood beside him,
lashing her dagger. "Goldshitters everywhere!"

"Stop calling them
that!" Vale said, thrusting his spear again.

He aimed at a creature's
fleshy head, but it jerked aside, and the blade once more scraped against its
armored body, showering more sparks. The demonic centipede leaped forth,
slammed into Vale, and locked its jaws around his shoulder. The teeth bit down
hard, and Vale screamed.

He swung his spear,
scraping the blade against the creature's fleshy face. Blood sprayed, and the
beast released him to howl. Lice rustled through its bushy black beard, and
veins looked ready to pop on its nose. It reared before him, raising many legs
tipped with claws.

Vale thrust his weapon.

The spear slammed into
the creature's underbelly, pierced the yellow skin, drove through flesh, and
slammed against the armor at the back.

Vale tugged the weapon
free with a gush of blood. The creature gave a last mewl and collapsed. As it
hit the dirt, its bowels loosened, spilling their contents. Coins chinked into
the grass.

He spun around to see
Tash facing two of the creatures, holding her dagger before her. One of the
beasts leaped at her, and she tossed her handful of coins onto its face.

"Eat shit!" she cried.

The coins clattered
against the monster, hitting its eyes, entering its mouth. Blinded, it reared,
and Tash tossed her dagger. The blade sank into the creature, and it fell over,
twitching madly, kicking its many legs.

Vale ran, shoulder
bleeding. He leaped over the thrashing creature, vaulted off its back, and
soared through the air. Another one of the creatures was leaping onto Tash,
lashing its claws, scratching her arms. Vale dived and drove his spear down
hard. The blade crashed into the beast's back, shattering the hardened plates,
and pinned the centipede to the ground.