Written 2006

Posted 07-20-22
Revised 07-21-22

 
 

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, CHAPTER 2

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson

After my capitulation to the Tradesmen, I was sold as a chattel slave to King Q’zon of the Darkur race. His people have long been engaging in an interminable war against another dominant non-human species, one called the Aerwa. The Darkur are violent and brutish. In contrast, I sized up their foes as being less repulsive, both in nature and appearance. Both tribes are capable of magic and from a distance their sorcery-charged battles look light shows. Though the Darkur will do anything to win, they have lately been getting the worse of the conflict.

Physically, the Darkur resemble big-framed humans loaded down with muscles. They have brutal faces, pointed ears, and come in divers colors. A single family might display as many hues as a bowl of Easter eggs. But the most noteworthy aspect of their race is the fact that they have shape-shifting abilities. It allows for them to morph into more destructive forms, most of them as ugly as a drug addict’s feverish nightmares.

But their metamorphic powers have limitations. As far as I can see, they can choose the general type of creature that they wish to become, but cannot refine their shape-shifting to allow them to impersonate specific beings, not even other Darkur. This skill must be magical in origin, for it allows them to more than double their size and, for all I could tell, their mass, too. This is something that Earth science holds to be impossible.

Of course, the more I learn about the true nature of the universe, the less respect I have for Earth science.

The best Darkur fighters are those able to create weapons out of their own bodies – including strangling tentacles, organic spears, or jets of acid. Nonetheless, they have hand-held weapons, including energy-discharging small arms that I would call “blasters.” They seldom employ mechanized weapons of war.

Q’zon had purchased me to serve him as a super weapon against their enemies. Ironically, I hated the Darkur more than I did the Aerwa, though those were the ones I was supposed to oppose. And I don't see my attitude as being quirky; to know the Darkur is to hate them.

To keep the Tradesmen happy, I scrupulously did as told. Through my service with Archimage’s knights I’d become a capable military strategist, but I avoided volunteering military advice to the Darkur, lest it be too helpful. I had to keep my resistance passive, unfortunately, for any overt treachery on my part was certain to get both me and Airelle executed. My uselessness in military planning caused Q’zon to size me up as dim-witted, which was fine with me. The less expected from me, the better I liked it. In truth, though I was slaying hundreds of the Aerwan foe merely by following orders, I could have slain thousands if I'd wanted to and I was left free to do my own planning.

Being in the Darkur kingdom was like being thrown into into a cage of hungry lions – a fate that I actually have experienced, given my long life. Their sports were bloody battle games and their whole society seemed to get it jollies from killing and destroying. Even Earth’s Nazis would have come off as courtly gentlemen in comparison. One of the most disconcerting habits of the Darkur was their determination to feed on the flesh of their enemies. Oddly, they seemed to think such culinary homage was the supreme compliment to a worthy foe.

Be that as it may, I would have preferred to be eaten by a Darkur rather go to bed with one of them – or with a hundred of them, which was hardly unheard of in Darkur. Fortunately, the Darkur hold some races, including humans, to be repulsive. They are no more attracted to humans than humans are to farm animals. Oh, admittedly, there are perverts in both races, but I took care to keep clear of that sort of Darkur. One reason I could hold them at bay was the fact that I let them know very early on that I was as lethal as all hell.

I never met a Darkur with a good nature, but – within limits – one could earn their respect. A person had to do this in a practical way – by demonstrating his proficiency at killing them.

So, living among psychotic monsters had become my way of life. It was something I had to endure in order to keep Arielle safe. Loving and protecting someone who hated me with a passion wasn’t so bad. If kept up long enough, it can actually make one feel like a good person.

And feeling that way was something that I’d been missing out on for a long while.

Incidentally, the Tradesmen had permitted me to speak to Arielle soon after her restoration to life. I’d wanted to confirm that this person supposedly back from the dead was truly Arielle and not some magical simulation or impostor.

In talking to her, I became convinced that she was truly whom she claimed to be. The girl, by the way, remembered being seized by the Beast prior to being lost to oblivion, but she didn’t quite understand where it had come from. I told her the truth on that point, but Arielle continued to feel kindly toward me. That was not the reaction that I had been looking for.

I told her that I had to leave soon and urged that she go home and forget about me. I tried to appear cold and matter of fact, as if I didn’t care anything about her. Her kindness and sympathy hurt me, and why not? Kindness is overrated. It plays into the hands of the trickster and exploiter, while doing little good for the benevolent and compassionate.

“Marinna, you shouldn’t have agreed to slavery just for my sake!” she had admonished me once. “Your life is too precious to be thrown away on my account.”

“How can you say that?” I asked. “I murdered you. I owe you.”

“I understand that, but you were the victim of the beast who was possessing you.”

“Be that as it may, the beast might still come back and I don’t want you anywhere near me when it does.”

She shook her head. “My father is dead. My living kin are strangers to me, except for one cousin. If I return to Ulik, the aristocracy will never allow me to rule in my own right. Different factions will use me as a political pawn, expecting me to marry whatever warlord they’re backing at the moment. I’d be better off at your side. Maybe my love can give you the strength you need to hold the monster at bay.”

“It’s just the opposite! The beast is determined to kill everyone whom I most love. That’s why it picked on you!”

She perked up. “So you’re admitting you love me! Let’s go with that!”

“No, I won’t accept your love. You should hate and avoid me. Your forgiveness is misplaced because you don’t know the half of what I've done. If you did know, it would make you despise me.”

“What’s the other half?”

“Don’t force it. It’s too painful.”

“No, tell me! It may be less terrible than you think. I will try very hard to forgive you. Besides, this secret clearly bringing you pain. Maybe it will stop hurting if you shared it.”

“Oh, Arielle! You’re a sweet child, but you need to become an adult if you’re going to survive. The cardinal lesson of life is to never forgive a wrong! Never give any person the benefit of the doubt. Instead, search out his secrets until you know what game he's playing! Scoundrels always ask for toleration because toleration leaves them free to injure the people they want to injure.”

She shook her head. “There is bad in all of us, Marinna, but look at yourself. You are not asking for toleration now, so how can you be evil? What I see in you is a woman ready to sacrifice everything for those she cares about. You can’t expect me to believe that you can't break free of the Tradesmen’s grip if you want to. You are staying to protect me. What I want is for you to escape now and let me go with you!”

I shook my head in pity – pity for myself, mostly. “You can’t come with me, Airelle. I am bound for nowhere. Every path I take is just another byway into darkness.”

“That may change in time,” she said.

“Don’t think that way. Love and trust are the quickest shortcuts to ruin and death.”

She shook her head. “Without love and trust, why should I want to continue living?”

“You will change your ways someday,” I told her. “We all do. The brutalities of life defeats us in the end. They can corrupt even a saint. The sooner you change your outlook, the better you’ll prosper.”

“If that's what you think, tell me why should I want to go on living?”

“I'm only trying to explain why you shouldn't love or trust me. I’ve been keeping secrets from you. I’ve know from the start who killed your father, Lord Tavon. It was not the horned beast, it was not Lord Pumpkin, and it was not the Tradesmen.”

“You knew?” she asked with a gasp. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“I had good reasons not to. Selfish reasons. Everything I’ve ever done has been selfish.”

“Is submitting to the Tradesmen on my behalf something selfish?”

“One good act can’t offset a lifetime of evil,” I said. “Just answer one question: Who was the last person with your father before he died? Have you ever considered that that person could be the murderer? It’s easy to guess why they would do it. The most powerful motives for murder are always lust for gain and lust for power.” Arielle knew very well that I had been the last person with Tavon. I was something that I had had to admit to the investigators.

“Don’t say any more,” she told me.

“Whatever you’re thinking right now,” I said, “it’s probably the right thing.”

I saw the color go out of her. This was torture for her, I knew, but I tried not to be sorry for it. A little pain when she was young would set the foundations of a happier life. A future queen needed to be hard and cruel. I was educating her, preparing her for punishing the evil people that she would someday have to judge. A survivor needs to always stay suspicious, always be ready to strike back. A simple life may yield happiness, but governing means giving up all regard for the lives of others. Compassion is a luxury that a power-wielder cannot afford. Knowledge brings pain, but pain -- when it doesn’t kill us -- makes us stronger.

She had gone silent, so I left her. While departing, I was looking forward to the day when Arielle would learn of my death and a smile would rise to her lips. After all, what parent won’t wish future happiness on his child?

#

Darkur beds are meant for brutes padded with muscle and skins as thick as rhino hide. Trying to sleep on such an instrument of torture oftentimes brings nightmares.

And there was one particular nightmare from which I could find no escape.

I would discover myself amid the bloody carnage of a battlefield, remembering that I am not Thanasi any longer, but Necromantra. I realize, too, that this great host of men had perished only because I had betrayed them. I know I have done it because their deaths had put me at an advantage. Why should I not be content?

Of a sudden, a giant beast with horns and wings rears up from a crater. It glares, but not at me. I realize that it is looking at my daughter Arielle who is standing on the field and watching us. I can tell that the beast realizes that Necromantra is not his enemy, but that Arielle poses a very great threat to it.

I am never able to remember the dream from that point on.

I awake in terror and roll from my bed. In panic I crawl to that spot on the floor where I have chalked a diagram of mystical runes. And go to the center of it and invoke the wizards' spell taught to me by the Tradesmen’s conjurers. The chant is one crafted to keep the beast at bay.

After the spell is cast, the battle reverts to stalemate. I stagger back to my hard bed then and fall across its boards, succumbing to sleep the sleep of the battle-weary. Mercifully, the slumber that then envelops me is almost always dreamless.

***

After months in the fortress of Krad-Rog, I learned from bribed slaves that a delegation had been welcomed in by Q’zon. These humans, spies tell me, are not captives, but emissaries from a human land. Upon discovering that they come from my former city of Ulik, I have to know more about them.

Over the next couple days, I learn additionally that the visitors are Ulikan rebels seeking alliance with the mighty Q’zon. I regard that idea as madly reckless. If those within Ulik admit the powerful and ruthless Darkur into their country, how on earth do they ever expect to get rid of them?

Such a ploy, I know, will place Arielle at great personal risk. I haven’t brought my daughter back from death only to see her destroyed all over again so soon.

I at once make it my highest priority to find out what is going on in Ulik.

***
I soon learned where the ambassadors were lodging and consequently went to meet them in stealth, winding my way through covert passageways built into the stonework of Krad-Rog. Because the Darkur can sense magic, I avoided the invocation of sorcery as I made made my way along.

I came out through a disguised exit near the area where the visitors were housed. Guards were posted thereabouts, but I eluded them. I soon sighted certain officials of Ulik, one of whom I had known before, Baron Vigon. He was a senior aide beholding to an important grandee from the countryside, Viscount Armand. I stepped out of the shadows into their full view and said, “Hello, my lords.”

They turned my way and saw me dressed in a human gown given me by Q'zon, a piece that was probably loot from a military raid. Because of that, I wouldn’t have given odds that the former owner was still alive. Nonetheless, I had rigged myself out to look very much like the queen-regent whom they had known in Ulik.

"My lord Baron Vigon," I said, keeping my voice to a whisper.

Vigon greeted me uneasily.

I returned the sort of smile that I had occasioned myself in court. "I take it that you recognize me, my lord."

"You are unforgettable, my lady,” the dignitary said. “Forgive my reaction, but you have been assumed dead for months. King Q’zon has informed us that he is holding you captive, but we had our doubts.”

"Sometimes I cannot myself believe it," I said.

“How did you come here, my lady?”

"I was attacked by the Pumpkin, but he fell victim to an attack by another of his many enemies,” I explained. “I fled, but fell into the hands of the Tradesmen, who had been watching the misfortunes of Ulik like vultures."

“The Tradesmen?!”

“They deemed that I would make a acquisition as a political pawn and so sold me to the Darkur. Tell me, sire, did my daughter Arielle arrive safely at Ulik?"

“Why, yes she did.” Vigon said. “Arielle also told us of her captivity with the Tradesmen, but did not mention that you were with her.”

“I asked her not to,” I lied. “I was ashamed of the fate that the Tradesmen intended for me.”

It seemed that Arielle had kept our meeting secret. Why hadn’t she denounced me for a regicide once she returned to Ulik?

“Does Arielle now rule the land, as is her right?” I asked.

"Alas, Arielle is no better than a captive. Viscount Erhan has put advanced a claim upon the throne of Urlik and intends to marry the princess and rule in her name as prince regent. To make matters worse, several of the courtly factions are colluding in his treasonous conspiracy. My master, Viscount Armand, opposes Erhan’s pretensions and is marshaling the forces of the countryside to set affairs right."

So, Armand and Erhan were now quarreling over power. I had no reason to favor either of the two rogues. Armand’s jockeying for power was surely no more honorable than Erhan’s. As for Duke Erhan, I only knew that he had served Lord Tavon as Warden of the Armory. Ulik must have fallen into a deplorable state if nonentities like Armand and Erhan could now be strutting before the people as the best candidates for usurpation.

"About this marriage,” I said. “Is Arielle satisfied with Erhan’s proposition?” To my mind, it was a match made in Hell. Arielle was fresh and young, an idealist in love with life. Erhan was, no doubt, a cynical middle-aged schemer with an ongoing fascination for power.

"Her opinions are not being taken into account,” said Vigon. “Armand seeks to restore the princess’s rights as Tavon’s legitimate heiress."

I assumed that Vigon was really saying that the country magnate saw himself as a better candidate for prince regent. But to Vigon I said, "Even granted that I am held captive here, is there any aid that I may extend to my daughter?"

By these words I had tossed my own chips into the game of power. For now, making friends with Armand’s faction would serve me best. After all, Armand’s men were standing right in front of me, and Erhan’s were nowhere to be seen.

"You can help, my lady! " the baron said. "You retain many admirers and sympathizers in Ulik. If you publicly declare yourself against Erhan’s scheming, some of his power-backers may fall away.”

Was this true? Did I still hold support in Ulik? Why should that be? They knew me for a harsh authoritarian with blood on her hands. In fact, if I suddenly showed up at Ulik as a participant in this political wrangle, it would be natural if Arielle denounced me for the worst kind of traitor.

“I made many mistakes as Queen-Regent,” I said. “I behaved badly because I was ever in fear that the murderers of Tavon would strike at me next. But by doing unjust things, I only made affairs worse.”

“You had sublime political instincts, lady. Many people saw you as the solid rock to cling to during tempestuous times. If you now throw your support behind the Viscount, Erhan's power might be restricted to the capital and a few castle strongholds."

I shook my head. “You are proposing a dangerous game. If you use the princess as a chess piece, you will be placing her life in grave danger.”

“As matters stand, she is already in danger as Erhan’s hostage. But he has so far refrained from harming her because she retains broad support among the people, even within the capital of Ulik. That is why Erhan has so far attempted to pose as her champion. If the people can be brought to see the truth – that he is her enemy and exploiter -- it may create new fissures amongst those who the scoundrel depends on.”

“I suppose it would,” I said, nodding. I could almost hear the heavy wheels of intrigue grinding.

Unfortunately, those same wheels always grind exceeding fine. Persons unwise enough to get into their way do so at their own risk.

Ulik had become a mine field. It was fortunate that I was no newcomer to intrigue.

From this point on, my every move would have to be calculated with the utmost care. I was less concerned with my own welfare, however, than I was for the life of princess Arielle.

CONTINUED IN Chapter 3

Written 2006

Posted 08-22-22
Revised 08-23-22
.

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, CHAPTER 3

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson

The Den of Vipers

King Q’zon grasped my hair and threw me against the granite wall.

“Deceitful witch!” He bunched his fist for a killing blow, but then opened it again at the last moment and gave me the hardest face-slap I’d ever felt. When I slid to the floor, he stood back, taking in the sight of me sprawling at his feet. I was not so far gone that I didn’t realize that my punishment had been a restrained one, at least by Darkuran standards. Though very capable of giving him back worse than he’d dished out, any rebellion on my part could be enough to trigger the Tradesmen into carrying out their threat against Airelle.

“I beg your pardon, Majesty,” I feigned to plead, “my magic is mighty but my body is weak. If I am beaten to death, I cannot serve you!”

His large nostrils flared. “You’ve served me poorly enough so far, human cow! And now I catch you intriguing!”

“Not so!” I declared. “I went seeking news of my daughter, the Princess Arielle!”

“Silence! You have no life, you have no family. You’re existence has no purpose outside of seeking to achieve perfect slavery.”

“I did no harm. When they told me what I wished to know, I withdrew!”

“Vigon saw fit to come to us seeking alliance,” the king said, “but now he wants more. He petitions me to send you with him to Ulik, there to be put to use by his master Viscount Armand. I would slay you for effrontery except that this new turn may serve my greater plans down the road. Ulik is a ripe plum ready to fall. Their new interest in you may become the bait I need to effect its subjugation.”

“I live to obey,” I told him.

He grabbed my hair again. “That is exactly why you are permitted to live,” he reminded me. “Now, get out! Your bleeding befouls my rug. Await your next summoning without making any more trouble!”

“As my lord wills,” I muttered. Now Q’zon shoved me out the door and while doing so my shoulder was skinned against a fluted pilaster. All told, I had to rate this interview with the Darkuran king as a success. My ploy I had managed to veer the schemes of both Q’zon and Vigon into new directions, and one of these might provide me with a better chance to achieve my own aims. So far, so good.

Good, yes, except that I now felt like I had some broken bones.

#

Fortunately, I heal with preternatural swiftness and I did not have to languish in my chamber for long before receiving a summons to attend a conference. Already in the room were King Q’zon, his aides, and most of the human emissaries from Ulik. The Darkurans pointedly ignored me, but the humans rose and bowed, as if to a queen. This was empty theater, of course. They saw me as a political tool and nothing more. How many of them would have cared if they had know about my ordeal so far in the kingdom of Darkur? And why, really, should they care about my wellbeing? In Ulik I had been a despot. I had toadies and hangers-on, but no friends. And it had never occurred to me that making friends might be a good idea.

“Marinna,” Q’zon rumbled. This struck me as a gallant acknowledgment – for him. The king’s usual terms of address were whore, slut, slave, or bitch. “These are my commands. You will accompany these emissaries in to the war Ulikan war camp of Viscount Armand. Upon your arrival there, you will do as commanded, save that you are forbidden to take any action that tends to undermine my personal interests. Short of that, your magic is at the human’s disposal.”

Taking in what he said, I continued to stand facing him attentively.

“Say something!” the king shouted. “If you have no use for your tongue, why should I let you keep it?” This, I knew, was a Darkuran joke. It was about the funniest thing I had ever heard him say to me.

“I am content and ready to serve,” I avowed with my head humbly lowered.

#

I’d been residing on the Godwheel for months only and had already grown jaded to its visual wonders. Sky-gazing there is a thing indescribable. The artificial solar system was a disk with a large hole at its center. In this hole hung a pair of binary dwarf stars and the light they shed on the world amounted to a perpetual sunset.

Because of this relationship between the suns and the Godwheel, the inhabitants should not have experienced nightfall. But an artificial night had been created, probably because living in perpetual daylight would have been very detrimental to the normal biological rhythm of many species. A night effect was produced by having orbiting plates in space. These periodically blocked the sunlight, thereby creating occluding the suns for close to ten hours at any location. Standing at my tent flap, I was at gazing the siege lines during a dense “night.” Oh, there were stars, but these were only lights installed on the plates.

For as long as any book remembered, this artificial world had been called the Godwheel because men assumed that only the gods could have constructed it. The builders – whoever they were – had installed a long-lived race on a satellite above the Godwheel to be its caretakers. These effective gods, the Vahdalans, had eventually fallen into factions and destroyed one another. Their story was not dissimilar from the myths of Earth’s Viking gods. These could be killed by violence, and also they required a rare magic application so as to remain young and alive. Legend held that the Asgardians had fallen in battle long ago, when their stronghold was attacked by demonic super-beings.

But if these myths of the Godwheel were based on truth, the builders had had the wherewithal to appoint actual gods to protect and manage their artificial world. If the mysterious ones were able to treat a race of gods as servants to be commanded, how much mightier than the guardian gods must the builders have been?

But pondering imponderables was a waste of time. For the most part, I accepted the Godwheel’s strange history on faith and concentrated upon righting the current situation.

During my weeks at Viscount Armand’s war camp, I’d watched the latter deploy his full forces against Erhan’s fortress – the walled city of Roch. He had ensconced himself there because this stronghold was more defensible than was Ulik City, the formal seat of High Prince of Ulik.

What I found more interesting than the military technology arrayed at Roch was the ebb and flow of the factions’ divers intrigues. The viscount drew his main support from the kingdom’s landed magnates, while Erhran was backed by the bureaucracy, the standing army, and the courtly party. At its core, Ulik was divided by a country vs city conflict. High Prince Tavon’s daughter having fallen into his hands, Erhan had announced to the realm his intention to marry her.

That move would allow him to legally rule as a regent in the queen’s name, up until the maturity of any child that they might have. This political coup had motivated Armand to strengthen his own faction by making overtures to an outside power, the Darkurans. But my sudden availability had tweaked the overall plan. Being the former regent, I had status under the laws of Ulik. To take advantage of that status, the Viscount had spread the news that he and I were betrothed. In this affair, I was a game piece, pure and simple. My "point-value" was not so great as Arielle’s in the eyes of the power-mongers, but it was better than nothing.

Armand’s maneuvers were having their intended effect. Spies came in reporting that some of Erhan’s adherents – already overawed by Armand’s military strength – were showing signs of uncertainty. Furthermore, a number of other independent factions, who had so far been standing aloof, now increased their flow of gifts to the Viscount. More importantly, some of them had started making overtures seeking serious negotiations. The consolidation of the power blocks had turned the quest for Ulik's throne into a two-team game. Events were moving toward a test of strength – such as a mass assault on Roch that would decide the issue.

The Darkuran troop contingency, incidentally, stood encamped several miles away from Roch, awaiting Armand’s call to battle. Because the Darkurans were so feared and disliked by all the Ulikans, Armand deemed it prudent to underplay his alliance with them. While these wheels within wheels were turning, I was largely left to my own devices.

Arman had set me to work as a diplomatic pawn. I was placed in the role of a glorified hostess to shore up, and even expand, Armand’s alliances. I had entertained many delegations, but a good share of these still pretended to think that I was an impostor – in deference to Erhan’s propaganda. The less blatant partisans accepted me as Queen-Regent Marinna and these were the people I thought I could deal with.

But my personal hand was not a strong one. Alone and without allies, I had little room for maneuver. I was keeping my antennae up to detect factions unhappy with both Erhan and Armand. I wanted to assume the stature of a third force, but I’d been making no real progress in that direction. After all, how many troops could I bring to the table?

Because of that, I was feeling quite boxed in, until a certain young captain of Ulik made an unexpected call at my pavilion.

#

I welcomed the new delegation routinely, but I couldn’t help but notice a fair-eyed young captain amid the graybeards and senior warriors. When the youth’s glance meeting mine, I froze. I was looking at no princely boy! I recognized the features my own teenage stepdaughter! What was especially baffling was that Arielle had seemingly grown into vigorous young womanhood over the few months since I had last seen her.

“A-Arielle!” I stammered bemusedly.

She raised her head and regarded me. “We have not met as yet, Madame. I am surprised that her ladyship should know my name.”

The young woman’s voice was melodic, but it was not the voice of Arielle. But if this lady in armor was not my Arielle, why did she not only have her features, but also her name?

Then I guessed the truth. When I’d first come to Ulik, Arielle had mentioned that she'd been christened Winola at birth but had, by the prevailing custom, chosen an adult name upon coming of age. She had taken for her own the appellation of the warrior whom she most admired. That meant that this female knight before me had to be Arielle’s heroine. Because they so strongly resembled one another, I could safely assume that they were blood relatives.

“I am sorry, Madame Knight,” I said. “I was misled by your close resemble to my stepdaughter. Am I right to assume that the princess Arielle is your namesake?”

“That is so, Lady Marinna,” my visitor affirmed.

From Captain Arielle’s cordial attitude, I surmised that Princess Arielle had not informed her that I had murdered her father. Why? Was she trying to protect her father’s reputation, embarrassed that her sire had married an unvetted stranger who had turned out to be his assassin?

The war-maid turned to face her retinue. “Hanno, Japet, do you recognize this lady as the former queen-regent?”

I recognized these men as officers from the kingdom’s cavalry. They greeted me correctly but without effusion. I accepted that. Many of Ulik’s subjects would hold my regency in ill odor.

“She is the very image of the queen-regent,” one of them said, and the other nodded in agreement.

“Ask her the prepared questions,” Arielle instructed them. “Appearances may be deceiving.”

They did as instructed, putting blunt interrogatives to me. I answered as truthfully as I dared and the warriors, at length, affirmed to Arielle that my answers had been proper. I then asked a question of my own. “Which power faction do you most favor, Madame Knight?”

The young woman frowned slightly, as if she disliked my term of address. Nonetheless, she answered evenly: “To be frank, we favor Princess Arielle.”

“You are for Erhan then?” I probed.

“No,” the amazon replied laconically.

There was something I liked about this untypical warrior and something told me that she and I should speak privately as soon as possible. Such was not feasible now, not while I was being closely watched by my attendants, all of whom answered to Armand.

“Where have you pitched your camp, my lady?” I asked. “Or is your barracks within the fortress?”

The term “lady” didn't go over with her any better than had "madame." I thought I understood why. When I had reigned in Ulik, I had never heard of a female warrior in my service, so her rank must have been unique. I could only assume that she wished to downplay her sex lest it diminish her in the eyes of her military peers.

“We’re encamped on the north side of the pond,” she replied, “under the banner of the slithor.”

“I don’t like slithors,” I responded lightly and with good reason. One of that species had come close to killing me upon my arrival in Ulik.

“Hopefully, you will like this one,” the warrior-maid replied. The glint in her eyes suggested a sense of humor.

Now that the necessary business had been addressed, Captain Arielle requested permission for her delegation to withdraw.

#

Under the dark of the night, I put my maids asleep magically and shifted to phantom density. This allowed me to exit the pavilion by way of the underground, thereby avoiding the guards posted outside. After having traveled in darkness for some distance, I levitated above ground level and solidified.

The effort had left me weak. The exhaustion of my bio-energy was always a serious matter. Though a vital world surrounded me, I could not revitalize myself by siphoning off its energy. It was my curse that I could only draw upon the expiring energies of the dying. I was like the gods of old, needing animal sacrifice – and sometimes human sacrifice – to feed upon. Without having frequent immolation conducted in my presence, I would become magically non-functional.

Killing was something that Necromantra enjoys, of course, but now -- thinking for myself -- I didn’t like it at all. But neither did I dare to accept disempowerment; the world was a dangerous place and having magic for self-defense was vital. In Darkur, when there were no battles for me to fight, King Q’zon had whipped chained enemies out into open arenas for me to execute. But here, in Ulik, I had to select my own victims.

Going airborne with levitation and a gush of wind, I began to feel weaker. Urgently, I searched for Captain Arielle’s slithor banner. Finally, having espied it amid a cluster of tents, I drifted down closer looking for confirmation that she was actually there. The sight of feminine garments hanging from clothes lines would have been a help, but I saw nothing like that.

I had another option. There exists a slight difference between the aura of a man and the aura of a woman, one that my senses can detect. I descended to earth at the rear of a large tent in order to conduct my search on foot.

In no great length of time I was able to detect traces of a female aura inside one of the pavilions and brazenly walked through its canvas in phantom form. It was very dark inside, so I summoned up a light of moonglow-intensity. I at once saw the knightly Arielle – wide awake, sitting up on a cot and staring at me as if I were a ghost. Also, she was holding a broadsword.

I stepped back and dimmed my light so as to appear less threatening. “Captain, it’s Marinna,” I whispered. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I wanted to speak to you in private.”

“What --?” the woman muttered, still groggy. “Why? What about?”

Before I could start to explain, my magical sensors started to tingle. That sword of hers, I realized, was no ordinary blade but an artifact imbued with an aura of dark magic.

The lady warrior threw off her quilt and stood up, letting me see that she was dressed in a night tunic and hose. She continued to look at me doubtfully even while warily lowering her sword.

“When I ruled in Ulik,” I said, “magic swords were not so common. Where did you get yours?”

“It’s a long story,” she replied.

I didn’t press it. Tales involving magic can be convoluted. But judging from Captain Arielle's expression, I suspected that the story that she was holding inside might be a nasty one.

TO BE CONTINUED Chapter 4

Written 2006

Posted 09-21-22
Revised 09-22-22

.

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, CHAPTER 4

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 4

Plots and Plans
 
Captain Arielle shook her blonde head, as if trying to shoo away flies.

“The sword was given to me by a demon, she said with effort, “-- at the price of a dozen lives – the lives of my friends and retainers. I hate the thing with a passion, but if don’t hold on to it, the sword will only drift away and find another master -- maybe someone worse than I am. I can’t help but dread what it could do in the wrong hands. If you’re a sorceress, Marinna, you may understand what I'm saying.”

“I suppose I do. Nothing much surprises me anymore,” I admitted. “But did you actually sacrifice your closest friends to gain control of a magical weapon?”

“I did not!” the knight declared. “They willingly gave up their souls to save my life. We'd attacked Lord Pumpkin’s castle, intending to strike him dead, but he wasn't there and his guards were on alert. I took a death wound in the fighting and as I lay on the flagstones, a demon appeared and offered my men my life for all their deaths. Though I was still conscious and forbade it, they ignored me.

“After they perished, the Hell magic rendered me fully healed. The demon lingered for just a little while and gifted me with this sword, saying only that I should never let it go. Then he vanished. Probably he was an enemy of Lord Pumpkin, but I can only guess at his motives. He’d explained nothing! In anger, and even shame, I threw the blade into a wall, but where it struck the stone a portal opened, a kind of swirling light. My intuition told me it would lead to the Pumpkin and so I walked through. The next few seconds looked and felt like being propelled through the midnight sky.

"The next thing I realized, I'd arrived elsewhere. I smelled whiff of something like rotten pumpkins and as I followed the odor I saw buildings, objects, and artifacts on every side -- all of which told me that I had to be very far from home in a very strange land.

“Obviously you weren’t able to find and kill the Pumpkin,” I conjectured.

“I did kill him. But because of the sorcery that created him, he has a way of returning from the dead. If I’d had more time, I would have burned his body to a cinder, but as soon as he was lying broken at my feet, the sword exerted its power and dragged me back to Ulik.”

I thought that her protest sounded too pat, but didn’t want to pick holes in it. I had few options left; if I rejected this warrior because of suspicion, I would be left alone and hemmed in, unable to accomplish anything at all. I had to gamble that Captain Airella had at least spoken true about some of the things that mattered.

“My pardon,” I said. “I’m here because you and I may share a common aim.”

“How's that?”

“You avowed that Princess Arielle has some rights in this ludicrous affair. Too few people seem to remember that.”

She gave me a hard look. “How am I to believe that you could actually care about the princess? From what I've heard, Queen Marinna was a ruthless tyrant with the blood of hundreds on her hands.”

“That much is true,” I told her. “But that that was then and this is now.”

“You'll forgive me if I remain reluctant to take you at your word, Lady,” she said.

“Do you have a saying in Ulik, something along the lines of ‘actions speak louder than words’? Do me the favor of judging me on what I do; I don't expect you to believe everything I say. To begin with, tell me how many men you're able to bring into battle.”

She frowned. “That depends what you expect them to fight for.”

“I'd be asking them to protect Princess Arielle’s life and – if they are willing – secure her throne.”

“If those are the terms, I can engage maybe a dozen men-at-arms,” she said. “The rest are committed to me personally, not to Tavon’s heir. Though I personally liked and honored High Prince Tavon, his reign was so brief that he didn’t gain any wide or deep following. Our people have been oppressed for so long that they're desperate for a strong leader who’s truly on their side. They won’t care for the idea of elevating a unseasoned minor. Clearly, most are not enthusiastic for either Armand or Erhan, but most would find either of them acceptable -- as long as that one wants peace as much as they do.”

“So you say. But I think Arielle possesses both the head and the heart to become a rare queen. But for right now I have a question.”

“What?”

“You claim to be a leader for whom grown men are willing to fight and die, so why haven’t you made a claim upon the throne yourself?”

She shook her head. “A move like that would make me just one more opportunist adding to the confusion. I have no personal royal right; I’m only related to the royal family through the late queen’s side. Tavon took to wife one of the minor nobility for love, not political advantage.”

On the surface, the captain’s excuses were plausible, but I had a hunch that she was something holding back – perhaps she'd been involved in a scandal or there was another disqualifying problem. I had no inclination to pry.

“As I say, I came here hoping that we might serve the princess together,” I told her.

Arielle frowned. “And as I've already asked, why should I trust you?”

“When I reigned,” I told her, “I was insane. I’d been insane even before I arrived here. But at present I'm able to think clearly and I want to do right by your cousin. I'm forced to act quickly, though, lest I turn lunatic again. You believe that I'm serving Armand’s interests, but that's only because I’m forced to.”

“How are you being forced?”

“Powerful interests will slay the princess if I don’t do exactly as I’m told.”

“Are your speaking of either Erhan or Armand?”

“Neither. Behind the scenes, this world is game board for forces that are more powerful than any you might imagine.”

Arielle shook her head. “I want to help my young cousin, but I’m against keeping this kingdom in civil war for longer than necessary.”

“That’s my feeling, too,” I said. “I have sorcery to draw upon, but I need help and advice if I’m going to accomplish anything.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” she replied.

“Say nothing for now. Just listen to the idea I have.”

#

She did listen and then I left her to think things out for herself. After leaving Arielle’s tent, the wobbliness of my my attempt to fly reminded me of how great was my need for a blood sacrifice just then.

Though slaughtering domestic livestock could have empowered me somewhat, the half-formed spirits of dumb beasts are weak. What I needed was the immolation of beings of the highest order. But now that I wasn’t demonically possessed, I felt reluctant to kill selfishly. People will always dispute and fight – that's their nature – but, pound for pound, I didn’t think that the solders of Ulik deserved to die for my sake any more than had Archimage’s knights. So what did that leave me with? Where should I seek my sacrifice? Why can’t a person ever find a rampaging dragon when he needs one?

I thought my best bet was to execute one of the nearby Darkuran contingent. I hadn’t had the chance to slay many Darkurans thus far, except for a few criminals that had been given to me by King Q’zon for execution. That exercise at least had taught me the best method of taking one of them out. The species had a powerful, magically-charged spirit much stronger than even that of a human. Each one of their race would amount to a full meal for me. Yet I had to act in complete secrecy. I had been plighted to obey the king of the Darkurans and to slaughter one of his subjects would break my vow to the Tradesmen and bring about their intervention.

While I veered toward the Darkuran camp, considering how to kill one of the beings conventionally, since any out and out assassination would instantly make me a prime suspect. But I didn’t savor taking on a warrior of Darkur in my present shape, seeing as how what I had to work with was the durability of a lingerie model and the upper body strength of a thirteen year old male.

But at least there would be no lack of weapons around a war camp of this size. I employed my ebbing magic to spirit away a medium-weight sword from a rack of stacked arms.

Being thus equipped, I projected my mystical senses as widely as I could, trying to detect Darkuran life signatures. There were many of these to be found inside their tents, naturally, but it would have been suicide for me to take on a whole squad of them. Fortunately, I zeroed in on a single creature prowling alone through a wooded copse near to the bivouac proper.”

Following his bio-signature as if I were a hound, I soon sighted him visually. Landing, I stalked him to an isolated spot. It was then that I discharged a burst of sorcery at his broad back.

My shot did knock him to his knees, but it wasn’t even strong enough to render the Darkuran warrior unconscious. I ran up and chopped at his head, but the bone that I hit was hard and the hide over it thick. He thrust himself under forest cover and metamorphosed, as quick as thought becoming a formidable battle-beast that was protected by chitin-like plates and many clawed arms. One hand held a blaster pistol.

The Darkuran, getting his first look at me, snorted with scorn. His disdain for being attacked by a mere human female worked in my favor, fortunately; he didn’t shout for help – probably from fear of being laughed at if he did so. “I’ve heard that human meat is almost as tasty as that of the Aerwa,” he rumbled.

“Oh, so you haven’t already eaten humans?” I asked.

“You will be the first,” he deigned to reply.

“If I’d known that, I might have picked on some other guy.” I actually meant that, but I was now in too deep to pull out.

I saw no fear in him. Maybe the Darkur didn’t realize that I was Necromantra, a witch that even his own people dreaded seeing as how I was wearing Ulikan garb.

While the creature was taking his time, savoring an easy slaughter, I took the initiative. The best kill-spot on a Darkuran was his magical change-organ. That thing could repair even a damaged heart, but the Darkuran race had nothing to instantly repair their change-organ itself. Unfortunately, because the aliens were shape-shifters, that organ could be located in different places; I’d need a magical probe to pin it down. Before he acted, I used my adrenaline-charged magic to send my blade at him, shearing off his gun hand and disarming him – or at least “dishanding” him.

The blaster dropped in front of me and seizing it, I rolled away. He shuffled after me in that body that so resembled seafood, determined to make me sorry, but I had learned to be quick on the draw with all sorts of weapons and so fired at what was currently serving as his face. The cry coming out of that ugly puss was weak and strangled.

I shot again at the broad target of his gut – that is, the underside of his natural armor. But that hit couldn’t stop him either and I barely leaped from his way, though the sweep of one arm knocked the energy pistol out of my grasp and into the bushes.

Instead of taking flight, I surprised the Darkur by springing toward my sword on the ground. When he turned to seize me, I switched on my glowing aura to dazzle him.

“You!” the monster sibulated. He had belatedly recognized me for who I was and became unsure how to attack a foe so dangerous. During his hesitation, I sensed out the hiding place of his change-organ and I spent my last burst of energy to drive my blade aimed t at his Achilles’ Heel. I had nothing left to give; either my opponent perished now or I’d have to deal with being dead seconds later.

An indescribable sound issued from the Darkuran's ruined head and he collapsed inert. Almost at once I felt the bio-energy of his expiration flowing into me like a hot jet from a fireman's hose.

Fighting to stay alert, having been made drunk by consuming so much new energy, I heard rushing boots coming through the brush – sentries from his army's camp no doubt. I risked just two seconds of my time to recapture the Darkuran blaster (for possible future use) and then went phantom. As before, I made my escape by way of the underground, using the natural energy of the landscape as a beacon so as not to get lost.

Having resurfaced a good distance away, I flashed the captured blaster into my “mystical closet” and shot up into the fog hanging at treetop level. During my flight, I was reasonable certain that I’d left behind no incriminating clues. A little later, back at my tent, I woke up my enchanted servants and then immediately lapsed into my own exhausted sleep.

#

Bright and early the next morning, I heard the current news that the Darkuran ambassador was fit to be tied about a Darkuran warrior who was slain, but the killer had apparently left no trace.

Since I’d arrived, Armand’s forces had been recruiting well, increasing their host to about twice the size of Erhan’s muster. That growth had made it unlikely that the Duke would be inclined to come out to make a fight of it. On the other hand, odds of two-to-one were insufficient to take a fortified city by storm. I thought it probable that Armand would be thinking about using the Darkurans as a sledge hammer to break open the city walls and begin a street to street fight, as at the fall of Troy (which was a little before my time, admittedly). The Darkurans had firepower enough to bring it off.

If the war ended in such a way, the killing would be horrendous. Hoping to save lives, I went to the viscount with an alternate plan of my own. Ostensibly, it would appear that I was trying to help, but in fact I wanted to weaken Armand’s army by planting suspicion betwixt him and his most dangerous allies.

“My lord,” I said to my unbeloved betrothed, “it would be a pity if your Ulikan supporters became alienated from your cause in the face of outrageous Darkuran atrocities.”

“Do you have anything useful to say, or are you only fretting in the way of every other woman?” he asked.

“I’ve been in the court of Darkur, as you know, and I’ve seen the Darkurans at war; they leave nothing living behind them. And you ought to realize that if you employ their forces in battle, King Q’zon is going to claim total credit for the victory and look at you as someone deeply in his debt. If that happens, the Darkurans are going to be in a position to make heavy demands on your government, probably more than you can responsibly hand over.”

He reacted, but not in any way that I wanted him to. He blandly looked away from me and stared at the map in front of him. “Run along, my lovely,” he said. “Only a fool takes military advice from a woman.”

That rankled, of course. As I saw it, though I'd gained a new body shape, I hadn’t lost my understanding of politics or warfare. I briefly wondered whether I should at last "come out" about my background and capabilities, but decided against it. Smart women know that they hold a great advantage in life because they are continuously underestimated. I was savvy enough to know that I shouldn’t throw away such a valuable asset.

“I know, my lord. But consider this. You’ll arouse local resentment and even make enemies of your surrounding kingdoms if you’re held responsible for introducing Darkuran tyranny into Man Land for years to come. If matters go that far, how will you ever get yourself out from under their thumb?”

“I already know that all my choices are bad ones,” he said.

“Have you ever thought about this: You can win by making Erhan’s faction collapse even without crushing his military strength if you act to undermine his political strength. His major game piece is his pretext that he intends to carry on the legitimate dynasty. But if the princess were lost to him, he won’t have much of anything to offer to his power brokers. I think you’ll agree that the man is neither a lion of charisma nor a beacon of inspiration.”

“Perhaps,” the nobleman answered thoughtfully, “but the fellow is not an idiot, either. He’ll keep Airelle heavily protected and we’ll still have to launch a major assault to rescue her. Such a thing would be a bloody failure without Darkuran help. And if we don't do a successful storm, we'll have to grind though months of siege. A good share of our people will go home if try to make them stand around doing nothing for so long. Also, if we try forcing the Darkurans to be idle, who knows what those monsters will decide to do?”

“That’s one scenario, but there are several others. Ask yourself, what would be the result if you did rescue Airelle without with little violence and then impress the kingdom with your courtly benevolence toward their princess – providing that you treat her respectfully?” I asked.

He looked at me squarely. “What, exactly, is going on inside that devious mind of yours?””

“I propose putting together a plan for me to enter into Roch so that I can use magic to bring her out,” I said.

“Why bring her out?” he asked. “Why not just kill her?”

I looked gave him a hard look. “I don’t want to kill her. She’s my step-daughter.”

The nobleman shook his head and chuckled lightly. “They certainly don’t make stepmothers like they used to!” he said.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5

Written 2006

Posted 10-21-22

.

THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, CHAPTER 5

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson
.

Chapter 5

A Sea of Troubles

“Not all stepmothers are like those in the storybooks,” I said.

He shook his head scornfully. “A pity. I could use a more practical-minded woman. Clear your head, Marinna! Sentimentality gets in the way of politics. The reign of Lord Pumpkin taught us how power can be won and kept.”

“But not even the Pumpkin was able to hold onto his power for more than a few years.”

“When he left Ulik, it was by his own choice. No one forced him,” he said.

“Maybe. But he must have had some reason for going. And he wasn’t able to come back and take over again when he tried. And the Pumpkin wasn’t just a walking scarecrow; he was a powerful sorcerer. If it wasn’t for that, his iron fist would have been like a glove stuffed with straw.”

“Well, don’t I have your sorcery at my command?” he asked. “Oh, certainly, you’re not to be trusted, not least of all because you're under the thumb of King Q'zon. But maybe we can come to some accord that will increase your enthusiasm for our cause.”

“Maybe we can. I suggest that we start the process by dropping any idea of killing Princess Arielle.”

He shrugged. “You’re asking only one small thing today. But what will you be asking for tomorrow?”

“To answer that, we’ll have to wait until tomorrow, won’t we.”

“I hope that’s one of your jokes,” the viscount replied.

“Just listen for a moment. You'd like to hold onto as many allies as you can, right? Slaying the heir of the old house would alienate some of the most important power blocks. On the contrary, bringing Arielle over to your side will impress the people of Ulik and even improve your legitimacy in the eyes of our neighbor kingdoms.”

He regarded me keenly. “Now that you mention it, Arielle has an even better claim to the hearts of the people than you do – and for good reason. Why shouldn’t I marry her instead instead of you?”

I folded my arms over my breasts. “Marry anyone you choose, Lord Armand. You’re not my idea of a dream match any more than I’m yours. And what does it matter if the two of us are in agreement? Sooner or later, Q’zon is going to yank me back to Darkur and you’ll lose my support. Or do you think that you can stand up to Q’zon if he asks for anything insistently enough?”

The viscount shook his head. “I didn’t want that alliance in the first place, but I had no choice but to go after it once Airelle had fallen into Erhan’s hands.”

“So marry Arielle!” It made me queasy to be offering my stepdaughter to a crooked middle-aged politician, but I’d rather have Armand scheming to marry the girl than plotting to assassinate her.

He shrugged. “If you have a plan to bring that about, let’s hear it. Otherwise, you’re only wasting my time.”

“My plan is to win Captain Arielle to our cause. Family is important to her, and the princess is part of that family. And Arielle holds the captain in high regard, so much so that she even adopted her name. I’ve talked to the older cousin and know that she is not at all fond of Erhan. If we can offer her something that she wants, we can gain her support. If we're able to do that, I propose having her pretend to choose Erhan’s cause and deploy her contingency inside Roch. I’ll go into the city alongside her disguised as one of her servants. Once I’m able to contact the princess, I’m sure I can persuade her to accept your proposition. At the same time, the captain will also be there to back me up on the idea.”

The nobleman scoffed. “Why should I think that Princess Arielle likes me any better than she likes Erhan?”

“She’ll like you for the best of reasons. You have the bigger army.”

I saw his express become less scornful. Having been one myself, it was easy for me to talk turkey to a man.

“Also,” I said, “she’s been living as Erhan’s hostage, not his eager bride. And whatever Arielle chooses, I think it her knightly cousin will support it. And you’ll be gaining another advantage; the captain will have a force of arms that will be friendly to you inside Roch. Something useful could be done with that circumstance, I’d say.”

He was frowning, but not disagreeing. “You almost think like a man. But if the princess agrees to join us, how will you get her out of Roch?”

“Easily.” I picked up a bronze candlestick. “Pretend that this is the princess, and pretend that this table is the fortress walls.” Then I made my arm and the candlestick phantasmal and passed it through the surface of the table.

“Very interesting,” he remarked. “What partners we might make if only I could depend on you.”

“Do you suppose that you could ever truly trust a witch, my lord?”

“No,” he said, “I suppose I couldn’t. But one thing at a time.”

#

Three days later, I was in the back of a cart with other of Captain Arielle’s servants, crossing over the drawbridge into Castle Roch. Disguise was nothing new to me. With my hair blackened and nose reshaped and enlarged by an artful appliance, I didn’t expect that anyone short of Princess Arielle herself could have recognized me.

We settled into our new quarters and Erhan gave consent for the cousins to meet. I was brought along to attend on the captain during the reunion and my disguise must have been convincing, insofar as the princess didn’t give me a second glance.

“Wait one minute before you speak, Arielle,” the older cousin whispered. Then she gave me the nod and I went about the room checking for listening holes.

I discovered two of such by my ability to detect the life-traces given off by the agents lurking behind them. I send a magical surge through each hole in turn, strong enough to put a strong man into a faint. I didn’t think that either of them would have the nerve to report the matter to their spymaster later on, seeing as how they’d be admitting that the only problem was that they had fallen asleep on the job.

“It is done,” I advised the captain. “Speak your piece.”

“What was just done?” asked the younger Arielle, her brow wrinkling prettily.

“Marinna has secured the chamber from eavesdroppers.”

“Marinna?” The girl looked at me. Her incomprehension instantly transformed into wide-eyed dismay.

“Why did you bring her?!” she fairly shouted.

“The plan was her creation. What’s wrong?” the captain asked.

“She – she murdered my father!”

The warrior-maid looked at me aghast. Seeing neither surprise nor denial in my expression, she drew her sword -- the same nasty sword that she so much hated wielding.

“Put that down,” I told her. “I've already admitted that I've had periods of insanity. There is no way I can make up for what I've already done, but I’m earnest about wishing to help the princess. After that, I’ll be wanting to leave this land and, believe me, I never want to come back.”

“If you killed Lord Tavon, you deserve to die,” the warrior told me coldly, looking very much like a warrior instead of a noblewoman.

“She claims that she was possessed by a demon,” young Arielle put in. “I wish I could believe that there was nothing else to it.” Then she hung her head. “No, I think I do believe it. But I still don’t want her near me.” The princess placed her hand upon her cousin’s fist and pressed the sword hand toward the floor. “I don’t think Marinna would harm me intentionally. Just just be careful. She’s capable of almost anything when the madness is upon her.”

I was feeling the evaporation of the camaraderie that had been growing up between the soldier and myself. Also, I felt uncomfortable receiving even cautious trust from the teenager. The guilt I felt made me want to reject kindness or mercy. But beyond that, if my stepdaughter hoped to live for a very long time, she would have to give up her compassionate nature. He would have to become much better at hating and holding grudges. It would take a wary scoundrel to survive in an environment as stormy as Ulik’s.

The princess turned my way. “You came with a plan. What is it?”

“We want to take you to the camp of Viscount Armand,” her cousin answered for me.

Arielle frowned. “Is that wise? Can we trust him?”

“No. No more than we can trust Erhan,” I ventured. “But if the Darkurans attack this city, thousands of your people will die. Each one of those beasts is worth a score of Ulikan soldiers, and they’ll be bringing with them weapons the likes of which your defenders have never had to face before. These stone walls will be no obstacle to a Darkuran attacks. If it were not for the Aerwa people, a race as powerful as they are, the Darkur would have taken over the Wold long ago.”

I was giving her the straight skinny. My aim was to get young Arielle out of the Ulikan powder keg and into a safer sanctuary. The only question was, where could we find a refuge for a royal princess even on a world as large as the Godwheel?

“If my people must die, then I should die with them,” declared Arielle the younger.

Arielle, the soldier, shook her head. “Self-immolation has to be the last resort, dear one. It is a maxim of war that the best way to make a war short is to side with the stronger contender. We believe that Erhan may be repudiated by his own people if he has no royal marriage to support his claim. That means that your exit from this city may very well prevent a carnage. Without you, Erhan will be no more appealing to his supporters than are the minor pretenders who have already given up.”

“But will mere human politics stop the Darkurans from attacking if they really want to?” the younger cousin asked.

“They might indeed attack. They’re always spoiling for a fight,” I told her. “Before they move, both factions have to act jointly in rejecting them. If the Darkurans are seen to be making war against a united Ulik, it should encourage the Aerwa to intervene. They’ve always been against outright Darkuran aggression. And because the Darkurans know that, too, it may discourage their king from going too far.”

The knight turned my way with misgivings. “That's a big ‘if.’ If we have to stand alone against the full force of Darkur, we can scarcely survive.”

She was right; I had no counter argument.

“What is my choice then?” the younger cousin asked.

I replied, “First, you should forgive yourself for this bad situation and be prepared to preserve your own life. With you out of the picture, Erhan, Armand, and the Darkur will be left to settle their own hash as best they can.”

“What about the mass of the people?” she demanded.

“In the worst case, very many will die,” I said. “But how can you help them, except by making the noble gesture of dying with them?”

“Would that gesture be so useless?”

“I believe it would be,” I replied. “History judge most grand gestures as being worthless.”

That made the teen stop and think a moment. Then she asked, “If I agree to escape with you, what then?”

“You have three choices. Stay here and support Erhan; that means Roch will probably be attacked, and probably with Darkuran support. Or, you can go over to Armand. As we’ve said, Erhan’s cause will most likely collapse in a few days. The risk is that the Darkurans may attack on their own initiative, since they’ve been sent here hoping to reap the material and political spoils of war. A united Ulik will have to reply to a Darkuran double cross and when his troops are attacked, Q’zon will probably send in reinforcements. If there is no Aerwan intervention, the Darkurans will win – and the Darkuran way of winning is about as ugly as you can imagine.

“But if the Darkurans do not attack,” I continued, “Armand has everything to gain by making you his queen. You can go along with that, if you have a strong enough stomach. Or, you may leave the kingdom entirely. Whether Erhan fights or not, his cause isn’t going to hold together. Armand is likely to be the most acceptable choice for high prince, given his wider appeal across the kingdom. But even if that happens, his throne is going to be insecure if he lacks your backing. There’ll be treachery and plots springing up all around him. He may even be forced to become a puppet of King Q’zon just to keep any kind of hold on the throne. How Ulik can get out of that kind of trap, I have no idea.”

“If I let you take me away somewhere, what going to happen to me?” the princess asked.

“You’ll be almost forgotten, only a footnote in the history of Ulik. The question is, where would you want to go? I don’t know of any place on this world that would be safe for a very young woman who has no friends or support. Royalty without a throne to barter away is no real royalty at all.”

“I can hardly see any real choice in what you're telling me,” the girl said.

“What about if you left this world entirely?” I asked. “Your cousin has the means of taking us to a different planet in space. She’s already traveled there and returned. It’s livable. I’m pretty sure that the world she visited was my own, since I first heart about Lord Pumpkin as a criminal leader back on my home world. The odds are that the sword can take us there again.”

“But what am I suppose to do on this place called Urt?”

“Not a lot. You’ll arrive there as a stranger and a commoner. All you’ll have is what you can carry with you. Your big challenge will be getting used to a civilization and to a lifestyle that’s very different from what you’re used to.”

“Which of my supposed choices will save the most Ulikan lives?” the princess asked. Then she looked at me accusingly. “If my father hadn’t been murdered none of this would be happening!”

“I would say that’s true,” I admitted. “Would my apology make you feel any better?”

“After all the harm you’ve caused, I don’t see how it can.”

“Here’s an idea you might like better. I have powerful enemies back on my home world and one of them might luck out and assassinate me one of these days. Wouldn’t it cheer you up seeing that happen?”

She looked away. "I don't know. All I really wanted was for you to be the person that I used to think you were. Maybe you've changed, but maybe you're going to suddenly change back again."

"Maybe I will," I agreed. "I hope not, but maybe I will."

Still not looking at me, the teen drew herself up against her cousin and pressed her face into the knight’s velvet tunic in a very childlike way.

Finally young Arielle looked up at her and whispered, “It sounds like the best choices are going with Armand or leaving this world entirely. What do you say, Arielle?”

Her kinswoman sighed. “The best decision is the one that will save the most Ulikan lives. But, whatever you choose, I pledge this: I will be at your side as long as you wish me to be.” Then the war-maiden addressed me, saying, “Leave us. My cousin and have to get reacquainted.”

“O course,” I said. “Only don’t talk for too long. Those spies that I stunned will not sleep forever.”

“Thank you for not killing them,” the princess addressed to my back as I was walking toward the door.

This setup was a depressing one. She had so much to learn about life. Myself, I had lived for centuries and had also died hundreds of times. I couldn't help but see things differently.

What I’d learned is that dying is easy. Living is always a sea of trouble.

#

I didn’t wish to force the matter as long as the princess remained indecisive. But the pressure was building on Roch and also on Armand; however reluctantly, he was drifting into a nasty place. The time was drawing nigh for me to demand a decision from her. But if young Airelle left the city, I didn’t want Arielle Senior to be implicated. That meant that I had to wait for the right moment, when she had the alibi of visibly attending a public function. As soon as that event happened, I ghosted into the princess’ apartment through the floor of one of the empty rooms above her suite.

When she saw my intrusion, she clenched her fists and declared, “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Princess,” I said, “it’s high time that you decide what you’re going to do. If you do nothing this city is going to be attacked and it will fall. You’re young, Arielle, but circumstances are forcing you to become stronger than you’ve ever been before. Not only your own fate, but your country’s fate, too, depends on your choosing a course of action.”

“You make it sound so easy,” she said.

“I know it’s not easy. To make things less difficult, can you at least tell me which plan is the one that you’d least like to follow?”

She was quiet. I began to think that she wasn’t going to speak until she finally said, “I can’t marry Erhan. That would make Armand attack the city. And if he does that, he will surely send in the Darkurans first. That would lead to the worst possible outcome for the people of Roch.”

“All right, would you prefer to marry Armand instead?”

“But isn’t he marrying you?”

“That’s just politics. I don’t want him and he doesn’t want me. He’d definitely prefer you to be his...consort.”

“But you’ve said that if there is no war, the Darkurans may simply start one themselves.”

“They might. Or they might not. All I can say is that the odds of a bad outcome will be less if Armand doesn’t have to order an attack.”

“What sounds most tempting is to simply run away,” she suddenly admitted. “But that would leave the kingdom in an unstable state. Also, doing nothing is just about the worst betrayal that I can inflict on my people. I would truly deserve to be a homeless exile if I did that.”

“If you can’t decide, would you want me to decide things for you? Or maybe you’d value your cousin’s opinion more?”

“No. I have to choose my own fate. I don't want to blame anyone else if things goes wrong. I think the best idea is to go to Armand. It will make his high princedom stronger and more stable. Also, we can hope that the odds of a Darkuran attack will be lessened.”

I nodded. That was how I saw matters, also.

That much being decided, I wanted to act immediately. There were dark drapes on the windows and these I tore down for us to wear as masks and cloaks. If the guards saw the two of us fleeing in disguise, they wouldn't be sure what was happening. I touched her so I could magically reduced her weight. That made it easy to pick her up in my arms, a sixteen year old being no easy burden for one of my physique to carry. Then the pair of us went ghosting through the exterior wall of her chamber and, once outside, I called up a brisk wind to take us to Armand’s encampment. Very quickly, the gusts took us out of the range of any crossbow shots while the darkness simultaneously provided good cover.

I deposited the youngster at my pavilion in Armand’s camp in care of my maids. Then I returned to Roch and reentered it secretly. If both Captain Airelle’s servant and the princess were seen to have disappeared at the same time, that would put the captain under the light of suspicion. I acted promptly to go out amongst the milling inhabitants of Erhan's mansion to show myself looking as innocent as possible. It wasn’t very long before the disappearance of Princess Airelle became the news of the hour.

In a flash, Erhan’s options had narrowed drastically. In the morning, Armand sent word into Roch that the princess was under his protection and he was offering Erhan clemency if he accepted exile and immediate capitulation. Erhan, unfortunately, remained stubborn. This incited Armand to send additional forces into the siege lines. I knew that his plan was not to attack Roch right off, but he wanted to frighten the city people enough to turn them against their failed leader. The viscount followed up on this by dispatching officers under a truce flag bearing a warning that if surrender was not forthcoming, the fortress would be given over to sacking by the Darkuran detachment. And these agents were lavish in their descriptions of what Darkuran warfare was like.

Erhan reciprocated, sending representatives to the besiegers’ command tent affirming their master’s intention was to resist, but also seeking a truce to allow Roch’s non-essential personnel to evacuate the castle. This was tendered as a humanitarian concern, but I thought that Erhan’s real motive was to save on food over the course of a long siege. On the other hand, it seemed odd that Erhan didn't seem to understand that a Darkuran attack would put an end to the siege in a single day. And even if that were not the case, what was the usurper waiting for? Whom did he think would be bringing him supplies and reinforcements?

As I took stock of things, it seemed that the rescue plot had gone smoothly for Armand. But my concern centered on Airelle, not the viscount. Whatever would serve her interests best in the longer term, I was prepared to do for her.

#

The next day, Princess Arielle received her first delegation in the role of an avowed supporter of Lord Armand. She told Ulik’s visiting dignitaries that she was repudiating Duke Erhan’s cause and urging the people of Roch to renounce him also in favor of Armand, just as most of Ulik already had.

In the course of things, the evacuation of non-combatants from Roch was agreed to and I subsequently left the city along with the old, sick, female, and young. Armand’s officers received us in an orderly manner and measures were taken to send the displaced people to safer locations.

Over the next couple of days, the kingdom’s remaining neutral factions began to declare for Armand. Spies inside the fortress city reported sinking morale and dissension amid Erhan’s ranks. Armand gave the garrison even more to worry about by making a show of building siege machines and parading his troops within sight of the city walls. However, he was still disinclined to bring up the Darkuran battalion, lest they riot and launch an unauthorized attack.

Though I didn’t care for Armand either as a person or a leader, I didn’t hate him. He was a self-seeker, granted, but so were most politicians. In fact, I was in support of anyone peacefully establishing a new royal succession as soon as possible. As long as there was an active war still in progress, unexpected and unpleasant things were likely to happen. It was my opinion that the recent events amounted to one hell of a way to choose a new high prince for Ulik, but some of Earth’s past usurpers had actually turned into decent rulers – including a fair share of Rome’s emperors. But, mostly, I was just standing by as an observer. There was only so much that I could do, beyond hoping for the best regarding Ulik.

Then, a few days after the evacuation, the Darkuran battle troop stomped over from its nearby bivouac. I didn’t know what to make of this redeployment, insofar as I had received no information that Armand was authorizing it. What was especially alarming was that it was unlikely that the Darkurans would do such a thing except under instructions from their king. What was Q’zon up to? I thought that these new circumstances might presage some very bad things.

The aliens erected a new camp a short distance behind the siege lines and then held aloof from the rest of the army, like a pride of lions leisurely contemplating a flock of sheep. Among Armand’s human supporters, tensions were running high. The word went around camp that the men should keep their weapons at hand and stay close to their unit leaders in anticipation of “unexpected events.”

A very concerned Armand called me into his tent to ask me what I knew. I could only reply that if Q’zon was doing something, I hadn’t been informed about it. Then he asked me whose side would I be on in case of trouble. I told him that I wouldn’t switch sides unless it was to obey Q’zon’s direct orders. The Viscount didn’t rate that reply as being very encouraging and so waved me away without special instructions.

Outside again, I couldn't lose the feeling that ominous things were being repositioned behind a cloak of shadows. News suddenly came that the Darkuran ambassador was calling at Armand’s headquarters accompanied by a small Darkuran guard of honor which, admittedly, was something that he customarily did. Armand met the inhumans under his tent’s awning and spoke briefly with the ambassador. Then, accompanied by his own bodyguard, the viscount went into the pavilion along with the dignitary accompanied by a couple of his Darkuran “aides.” I decided to stroll over in that direction, just in case. I wanted this war to end peacefully, but the smell of trouble was thickening to the level of a stench.

Before I made it as far as the awning, all hell broke loose.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 6

Written 2006

Posted 11-21-22
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THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, CHAPTER 6

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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Chapter 6

THE VORTEX

I heard distant horns off in the direction of Roch and so sprang into the air to be able to see what was happening. Duke Erhan was responsible for the excitement, making a mass sortie from out of his beleaguered city. To me, it looked like a suicidal attack of desperation. Armand’s men were responding swiftly to the rush of the enemy. Because of that, I didn’t see what the city garrison hoped to gain by exposing itself to a superior force.

The battle was joined, but I wasn’t sure what I should do about it. The Armandites seemed to be in control and were not in need my intervention. Also, I was reluctant to kill Ulikans – of either faction – lacking any compelling reason for doing so.

Then a sudden cry went up and, with that, the situation changed massively. The Darkurans were pouring out from their camp in a widening mob. I supposed that their very presence would rout Erhan’s soldiers with ease and then the brutes would savor what would be a bloody pursuit back to the city, which I thought they might actually take before the day was out.

I was totally wrong.

Dismayed shouts came from behind me and, looking back, I saw the Darkuran ambassador and his bodyguard emerging from Armand’s tent. The former had something held in his gore-drenched fist.

That object was the severed head of Viscount Armand.

This turnabout was surprising, but I was able to guess what was going on.

I reasoned that after Princess Arielle’s rescue, Erhan saw his political position as hopeless. Clearly, he had sent negotiators to the Darkurans in order to offer them the sun and the moon if they would come over to their side. In fact, he’d probably had diplomats in Darkur for quite a while already. Q’zon, I thought, must have grown unhappy with Armand for occasionally putting the good of Ulik over the good of Darkur. Consequently, the king must have seen Erhan’s offer as an appealing one.

Having arranged the treachery, Erhan had launched his attack against Armand’s besiegers. With the latter shifting to meet Erhan’s sortie, the Darkurans struck from the rear. Armand’s array, being caught between two enemies, collapsed and a massacre began. I didn’t think anything could save the situation and I wasn’t even sure which which side I should be on. But I didn’t care. My only interest was in protecting Airelle, and that I could still do.

I stayed near the battle for as long as I dared, absorbing the energy being released by countless death blows. Simply by hovering aloft, I was being charged like a battery.

But I dared tarry not for long. With the rout of Armand’s army, the victors would soon be sweeping through the noncombatant area, where Princess Arielle was; I had to get there before before the enemy did. The camp was nearby and I reached it in under a minute.

“Marinna!” the teen shouted at the sight of me coming through the flap of her tent. She looked afraid, in fear that I was now supporting the Darkurans. The plucky girl was standing her ground, fending me off with a sword and a buckler.

“I want to get you out of here!” I said.

“No! Help my people. My life doesn’t matter!” she returned.

“Which side do you consider to be your people?” I asked.

“All of them!”

I shook my head. “War is not a party game, Arielle! Once a battle starts, it has to run its course. There's not much I can do help anyone, unless you let me help you.”

I stepped toward her, not afraid of her sword – which looked too heavy for one of her build to handle well. Besides, with my healing power I probably could have survived even a thrust through the heart. She actually lowered her blade as I drew nearer.

Then, scooping up my stepdaughter with no cry of protest from her, I went phantom and levitated the two of us through the roof of the tent. A few arrows and lances intercepted our insubstantial forms but, in the main, the fighters remained fixed on the disintegrating battle. I flew the girl to a line of rugged hills about fifteen miles away. My life-sensing power sensed nothing larger in the vicinity than a vlag -- a harmless Godwheel creature about the size of a rabbit. I set the two of us down on the craggy dome and let the girl scurry away from me.

“Keep your head low and stay here,” I told Arielle. “I’m going back to find your cousin. After that, we'll find a long-term refuge for you.”

“No, Marinna!” she yelled. “You have to do more than that!”

I left her without answering. The best thing I could do would be to find the princess' cousin, who must be with the victorious army. Young Arielle would be in a bad way if she didn’t have someone trustworthy to protect her.

From an aerial viewpoint, I saw an incoming a sight that I hadn’t expected. At that, the situation had radically shifted. This day had certainly turned into one destined for the history books!

#

Unknown to me, Captain Arielle had been holding her men back from engaging with Armand's allies. They were still standing in reserve when the Darkuran attack began, this making it clear to the war-maid what the real situation really was. That took away any wish she had to join in the fight and instead pretended to pursue a nearby cohort of routed Armandite soldiers to disguise her disinclination to join the battle. Arielle started shouting after the fugitives, requesting a parley. One junior officer recognized Arielle and interrupted his dash for life and engaged with her.

“What can we expect at Erhan’s hands, lady?” the lieutenant asked feverishly, trying to stanch the blood that was oozing from one elbow joint of his armor.

“I think Erhan will accept willing defectors – which you’d be wise to become,” Arielle told him. “But I also don’t think the Duke is your real problem. Keep away from the Darkurans for as long as possible, until they get bored with killing humans. Tell me, have you seen the princess or the witch?”

“No, Sir Arielle,” the lieutenant replied. “I’m sorry.”

The captain urged the lieutenant to spread the word to his unit to come back and join her band without displaying their Armandite badges. “If you pretend that you have joined my contingent it may save your lives,” she said.

#

I hung in midair, watching a flight of Aerwa warriors sailing over the horizon. I wasn’t totally flabbergasted at this turn of events because I had been the one to urge Captain Arielle to send emissaries to the Aerwa king with a plea for them to prevent a Darkuran expansion into Ulik. I had thought that ploy would be a long shot but, suddenly, here they were! In fact, the elf-like aliens must have been lurking in the area well before the battle had ensued, gathering intelligence and waiting for the Darkurans to make some move that would justify a war. That standard was a low bar, since there was very little that a Darkuran might do that wasn’t abhorrent to an Aerwa.

The Aerwa before me were arriving in great numbers and so their chance of victory was high. The real question was whether Q’zon would react badly to an Aerwa attack and commit to a major war which could lead to the destruction of the be the entire kingdom of Ulik.

I deemed it time to get out of sight, since I was known to the Aerwa as a dangerous enemy -- having helped Q’zon in his war against them. At the sight of their ancestral foes, the Darkuran brutes began to shape-shift into the shape of dragon-bats, so they could meet the aerial onslaught. That was the Darkurans for you; they were stubborn bastards who almost always preferred to die fighting rather than running. I was more concerned for the men of Roch; would the Aerwa hold them to be enemies, too, since the Darkurans were fighting on their side? Or would Erhan seize the moment and make common cause with the Aerwa?

But did any of it really matter?

While the wild fight raged, I resumed my search for the blonde soldier girl.

I spotted her battle flag and, wrapped in a protective force-field, made for it, setting myself down amongst the men of her band. The minor stir I created brought Captain Arielle to the fore immediately, looking at me as if uncertain whether I had come as a friend or an enemy.

I stepped toward her, saying, “I've taken your cousin out of harm's way. I think you should go join her.”

Arielle grimaced and then called an officer to her side. "Take command while I'm gone," she told him. Then to me she said, “I really do need to talk to the princess.”

Taking the warrior into my arms, I levitated her armored mass, making it less weighty than a sack of goose down. Seeing us rising skyward brought cries of amazement from her soldiers.

I at once summoned a wind to carry us speedily toward the peak of rock where, I hoped, the princess would still be awaiting my return. Happily, the girl came out from behind a boulder upon seeing the captain and I touch down.

“Will you come with me to my home world," I asked the girl,” or do you have a better refuge in mind?”

“Why must we go to some strange new world?” the princess asked in perplexity. “I don’t know all of what is going on, but surely the whole situation that we talked about before has changed.”

“Things are different but not better, I answered. “If you stay, I’ll have to go back to Q’zon. If I don’t, the Tradesmen will kill you just for the sake of hurting me.”

“What will happen if I stay here?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe there will be a big war between the Aerwa and the Darkur, or maybe there won’t. Maybe you’ll have to marry Erhan, or maybe you won’t.”

“It’s better if you leave the Godwheel,” the younger Arielle said to me. “You’re too dangerous a person to have with us.”

“I tend to agree. But if I go and you stay, the Tradesmen will kill you. They’ve promised to do that and their good at keeping promises. I don’t think their power will be so great on Earth, but I do know that they’re able to go back and forth between worlds, and so there will always be some danger. No matter where you go, you’ll have to live in disguise, unless I go back to Darkur – and the Tradesmen have an uncanny way of finding people.”

She looked to her cousin. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know,” said the captain, “but whatever you do, I’ll stand with you.”

“Do you think I should stay?”

The soldier winced. “Even without the danger from the Tradesmen, you will live the life of a political pawn, just as you were doing before with Erhan and Armand. Worse, now that the Aerwa are involved, a terrible war may come to Ulik.”

“But if I flee, I don’t see how it will help our people.”

The captain shook her head. “I don’t either. But how much good have you been able to for do them while you’ve been here? Many people pity you, but I haven’t met anyone who thinks that you can rescue them from these terrible circumstances.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there are times when we are stripped of everything except our lives. When that happens, we can either build a new life, or throw the one we already have away on principle, Unfortunately, martyrdom seldom works very well – or for very long.”

Now the princess shifted my way. “Marinna, if I go to your world, will I ever be be able see my home again?”

“Possibly,” I said. “That will depend on how afraid you are of being discovered by the Tradesmen. Your cousin possesses a magic sword that’s able to carry people across the gulfs between your world and mine.”

The girl looked at the captain with amazement. “Is that true?”

“Yes. I never told you the whole truth because it’s a sad and ugly story. Your father asked me not to burden you with it.”

“Why?”

“Because of the magical sword I possess. It’s already killed every person I loved, except you and your father.” The soldier drew her accursed blade. “I’m not sure how much we should depend on this demon steel. Sometimes it forces me to do things that I have no liking for. I never dare forget how evil it is.”

I grinned mirthlessly. "I guess I’m not the only one who lives my every waking hour in Hell," I said.

Just then I heard faint cries, like of ghosts howling from the tomb. The sounds had to be issuing from the Demon Sword. “My God! Are the souls of the sacrificed men still alive inside that filthy blade?” I asked. “Why do you keep it? Doesn’t that wailing drive you mad?”

The knight shook her head. “I would gladly be rid of it, but in the hands of the wrong person it could do great harm. I would have thrown it into a volcano by now, except that I'm hoping to learn how to free its captives. Unfortunately, I'm not a witch. I don’t understand magic. Can you do something to help?”

I regarded the gleaming metal -- a deadly piece of work, too be sure. It made Mantra’s Sword of Fangs a mere Cracker Jacks prize in comparison. “Well, girl, I’d have to study the thing before I can answer that question.”

Her eyes flashed and she snarled, “Don’t call me a girl!”

I shrugged. “I don’t know why you have that attitude, but I think it will make you fit in just fine with the women on my world.” Then I pivoted toward her younger double. “Well, what’s your decision, Princess? You already understand the options as well as I do.”

The teen shifted back toward the soldier. “I want to get away from all this death, and I don’t want to be responsible for causing any more of it. If the Tradesmen are truly a danger to me, I have to go elsewhere. But please understand, Cousin, that I am neither ordering nor requesting that you should give up the life you have made here to come with me.”

The elder Arielle shook her head. “I’ve grown weary of these power struggles. I’d hoped they’d end when we got rid of Lord Pumpkin, but they‘re still with us. I need a new life as much as you do and I certainly can’t let you explore an entirely different world alone. By your leave, Princess, I will open the way for the three of us to travel to Marinna’s world. When I was there before I saw great evil surrounding the Pumpkin, but otherwise the land seemed peaceful.”

Young Arielle gave a perplexed but assenting nod. I took it as a gesture of resignation, not of hope.

The knight thereupon took a deep breath and, handling the blade like a spear, she hurled it into a boulder across from us. It struck deep, sinking inches into solid rock. It simultaneously released a fountain of energy that spun about and transformed into a dazzling vortex. Even though the warrior stepped up and retrieved the sword, the vortex yet remained.

“Come with me,” the elder Arielle said, wrapping her arms around both her cousin and me. Then, like some sort of six-legged beast, we moved as a mass into the gullet of the whirling light.

TO BE CONTINUED IN EPILOG, BELOW

*******
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EPILOG

 
THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, EPILOG

A story of Necromantra

By Aladdin

Edited by Christopher Leeson
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EPILOG

TWO WALLS, TWO WORLDS

The next thing we knew, we found ourselves between two dirty brick walls inside a fetid ally. We must have stood behind a butcher shop because black flies were bouncing off our faces, very much at home in an atmosphere of rotting meat.

The captain looked at the ugly place with consternation. I was also looking, trying to figure out what country we were in. I saw posters in English and could tell that the alley we occupied had a crowded sidewalk on one side and a dead end on the other.

“There’s no use standing here,” I said and then led the two Ulikans toward the throng of pedestrians. When a pair of college-age girls sashayed by, the captain regarded their cool summer wear. “Are these maidens harlots?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No, lots of women dress provocatively on my world.”

“Who forces them to do so?

“Nothing forces them, except their own vanity, I think. Many women think that wearing very little is a good way to attract attention. Many women like that kind of attention.”

“You’re joking!”

“Not at all. I’d wager that you ladies will want to wear clothes like theirs by this time next year.”

“Never!” the knight stated emphatically.

“On the subject of clothing," I cautioned, "Earth people tend to judge strangers on the basis of a lot of unimportant things, including what they wear. We have to get you into some local garments so that you won’t stand out. I can use some new duds, too, since I have nothing with me except Godwheeler fashions.”

As if to affirm my warning, a police officer stepped up to us. “Lady,” he addressed the captain. “Is that sword real?”

To my surprise, Arielle understood his speech and replied in English, “Of course!”

I spoke up. “She means of course not. The assistant costumer just issued her that sword along with the rest of that costume. Joan of Arc is being filmed a few blocks from here.”

“From here?” the officer echoed, taking in the sparing cut my sorceress outfit. “Is it a porno version? That’s the only kind of movie that’s ever made around Van Nuys. Wandering the streets in wacky costumes is going to get you gals into trouble. This isn't a nice part of town.”

Having passed along his warning, he continued on with his patrol. I was glad that he hadn’t given us any trouble, since I wouldn’t have wanted to get rough with a decent man who was only doing his duty.

But the brief conversation had informed me where we were -- Van Nuys, a suburb on the north side of L.A., which had been my take-off point from Earth. Unfortunately, it was within walking distance of Canoga Park, where another ex-knight of Archimage, Mantra, was living. If she laid eyes on me, her first reaction would be homicidal – and I can’t say I’d blame her.

“Who was that man?” the princess asked.

“A police officer,” I explained.

“What does that word mean?” asked the teen.

“A ‘policeman’ is what your people call a guardsman of the Night Watch,” I explained.

“Did he speak true?” inquired the blonde warrior. “Will I be challenged every time I go abroad wielding a blade? Is there no freedom in this land?”

“Not much, and there’s less of it every day.”

“What sort of world have you brought us to?”

“It’s the world of my birth. It’s the only world I have to offer you,” I replied.

“I think we should get new clothes, as Marinna says,” suggested the younger Arielle.

“How is it that you – ladies – are able to understand the night watchman’s words?”

The princess shrugged. “Even though he wasn’t speaking Ulikan, I understood him.”

The knight affirmed that. “On my first visit, I found that I was able to speak the language of this land. It has to be due to the magic of the Demon Blade.”

“Well, that’s a lucky break!” I said. “Knowing the language is going to make it easier for you to get along in this country. As for clothing, I’ll show you how to purchase things you need. Afterwards, we’ll find you a place to stay. But buying things takes money. That means I have to go out and get us some.”

Because Ulik had both inns and coins, the Godwheel visitors were able to grasp what I was telling them.

#

Leaving the pair resting at a street bench, I went off alone. In large American cities, criminals are everywhere; I readily identified a flamboyantly-dressed man as a pimp and robbed him. Now in possession of a few hundred dollars, I rejoined the girls and took them into the Goodwill store that I had noticed during my outing. The cousins emerged from the clothing section looking like sisters, in shirts, jackets, and jeans. The captain, I noticed, was carrying her armor out of sight, wrapped in a bundle. She asked me if there was any place she could hide it and keep it safe.

“Hold on to it,” I told her. “A fine, hand-made suit of plate will be worth a lot of money to a collector.” Glancing toward the princess, I said, “And the same goes for your court dress. Be sure to insist on a good price.”

“Will we ever dare to go home?” asked the warrior. “It is said that the Tradesmen never forget.”

“Maybe if I die they won’t have any good reason to keep looking for you,” I told them.

“Are you willing to do that?” the captain asked.

“Not yet,” I said.

From the thrift store, we explored the depressed residential area behind it, where there were “for rent” signs displayed. We soon found an acceptable room and I demonstrated for the Airelles how to pay a night’s rent in advance.

I advised the Ulikans not to keep their room for very long, but to instead find more permanent lodgings some other town or city. I explained that should the Tradesmen capture me, I might be forced to reveal the location of the princess if I knew it. Also, if I lost my mind again, I might get the notion to kill the two of them for some mad reason.

Food was next on our agenda. We stopped at a small grocery where I gave them another shopping demonstration. Following that, we called at a fast-food place for a warm meal. We ate from our bagged lunches outdoors, using one of the restaurant's canopied tables. I couldn’t help but smile, watching my stepdaughter wolf down her first Whopper burger with relish. “Wonderful!” the teen exclaimed. “’Tis is a dish fit for a king!”

“Yes, that’s why this eating place is called the Burger King,” I japed.

Once we were well fed, I showed them how decent people put their refuse into trash cans. “Look, it isn’t going to be easy for the two of you to settle into a world that’s so different from your own, but things generally operate in the same way. Like, in Ulik people have to earn their way by working for wages. Same here. But until you find jobs that will pay decently, you can live on a kind of dole that’s called ‘welfare.’ That’s a policy of the government for giving alms to beggars and other needy people. Anyone living in a poor neighborhood like this one will be able to tell you how to get your share of it.”

The captain frowned. “Does this land have no honor? Is it not better to starve than to beg?” Her cousin, behind her, was frowning and nodding.

“Suit yourselves. I only wish I could introduce you to some guide who’d be able to teach you everything you need to know, but I don’t have any friends.”

I refrained from explaining how I had betrayed all my former comrades to their deaths. “But I do have a mortal enemy who knows about the Godwheel and might be willing to aid you,” I continued. “She’s a decent person and I think you’d like her.”

“Why is she your enemy?” asked the warrior.

“I murdered her lover. Her name is Mantra. She’s a sorceress, like me, but she's more sane than I am. She lives nearby, but her exact whereabouts is something that I have to keep secret.”

“Why?"”

“Because she wants it kept secret. She fights evil and has made so many enemies that she's forced to live under an assumed name. I don’t want to endanger her life, nor the lives of those whom she protects.”

At that point I stood up. It was time for me to go, and they already knew why.

As I turned to leave, the knight nudged something against my arm. “Here, Marinna,” she said, pressing the wrapped Demon Sword upon me. “Keep this. I want nothing more to do with the thing. Only, I ask that you seek to find some way to free the wretched souls it has imprisoned, if you possibly can.”

“No,” I said. “That’s a terrible weapon to hand over to a madm – madwoman. And, besides, if I go mad, I won’t care about helping your friends. Maybe Mantra can offer you aid – or lead you to some other wizard who’s even more skillful than she is. And, remember, if you give the thing up, you won’t be able to return to your home, should you ever want to.”

She glanced down. “Do you truly believe that we can ever dare to return to Ulik? And, in faith, I cannot think that either of us have very much left to return to.”

“Until you decide what you should do for the long term, it’s better to keep your options open. Anyway, that’s about all I can tell you – except to say that I’m sorry I’ve made such a wreck of both your lives.”

They didn’t try to delay my departure -- and that was for the best. Until I was truly rid of the Beast, I couldn’t have friends. When I turned the first corner, passing out of their sight, I also was also passing out of their lives. I wished it could have been otherwise, but I had to do it for their own sake.

I knew that wherever I was going, I had to avoid using magic. I had good reason to think that the Tradesmen could trace a wizard by his sorcerous energy. Somehow they had recognized me as Mantra’s daughter after I'd arrived in Ulik and suddenly seized me. Maybe I’d be a little safer on Earth, but maybe not. I’d have to do my best to stay hidden; I didn’t want to do the things that the Tradesmen would force me to do.

Alone again, I was depressed, but I couldn’t afford the luxury of feeling sorry for myself. I needed to keep my wits sharp if I was going to build a new life for myself. To get started, I needed money to work with. Unfortunately, the only quick way I knew of to get cash was to commit another robbery.

Engaging in crime would soon get me into trouble, and doing it without using magic would be very dangerous. I needed a job, something commonplace that would make Marinna Thanasi easy to overlook. The whole idea of doing common labor was unpleasant, of course. Gaining wealth without violence would put a stain upon a knight's honor. But, in truth, it had been a long time since I had been living honorably.

That left the question of what could I do to support myself? My craft had always been fighting and though women were allowed to take take combat roles in this decadent age, a woman bearing arms in civilian life would attract the sort of notoriety that I didn’t want. On the other hand, I’d been gambling since the fall of the Roman Empire and knew my way around modern casinos. I thought that I was reasonably prepared to work as a card dealer. Anyway, Las Vegas would be as good a town as any to settle into.

After robbing another street criminal with the use of very little magic, I boarded a tourist flight to Las Vegas. I dropped off to sleep over the California desert.

As usual, my dreams were haunted by the specter of the Beast. As in so many of my earlier dreams, whichever way I went it was never very far behind me.

The end