12.7.0

Dirk returned to Castle Blackpool overland. The long, secret ride through Camarand and Baaldorf, then through the Land of Storms and the Plains of Death did little to clear his mind.

There had been no sign of activity from Zyrdicia in Dagonia, at the volcano or anywhere else in Aparans. Portia had not contacted Cai either. The seneschal was despondent. The gaiety in Castle Blackpool had completely disappeared. It was back to bleak, humorless business-as-usual - except it was not really business-as-usual. It was much grimmer.

Snow orchids began appearing in wreaths all over the castle. The purple flowers took on a special significance this year. Hanging them above doorways and mantles, however, did nothing to bring back the entity they represented.

Dirk's initial trepidation that she would not return slowly transformed into a seething anger toward her. The timing of her departure could not have been worse. He was so close to conquering Camarand that he could almost taste his new power as emperor of Aparans. Without a way to get more troops to Kirilia for the naval invasion, his ships could do little more than shell coastal towns from afar. He needed her to move a suitable ground invasion force there. It was impossible to get his army to the ships without her magic. He also needed her to finish the volcano and the dam to ensure his enemies' demise in the event the sea invasion took longer than anticipated. She alone knew the final design specifications for the dam, and without her oversight, the project had ground to a screeching halt. She had left everything in a terrible state of disarray. Just one month more, perhaps, and the South would have been his.

The timing of her departure infuriated him for other reasons as well. It came on the heels of the night on her hunting ground and his birthday - examples of particularly devoted behavior from her. It was as though he had finally succeeded in snaring her, only to watch her slip away - again. He would never admit to caring about her beyond the power she represented for him, but the fact of the matter was that he actually missed her presence. And he hated her for that right now.

He had no way to contact Zyrdicia, though he was uncertain that he would have done so had it been possible. He certainly had no intention of trying to chase after that spiteful, annoying, childish, hell-spawned she-devil.

Vector could not locate her in the viewscope, though he had correctly identified the white magic radiating from the "feather" as belonging to a Seraphim, enemies of the race that spawned her. Dirk privately hoped that the minions of goodness tormented her like furies for daring to leave him.

12.7.1

"So why exactly did Zyrdicia leave?" Geoffrey asked Dirk over dinner.

Cai looked up in surprise. It was a question he very much wanted answered as well, given the effect that it had up on his own life. He had been reluctant to pose it, though.

"I've no idea," Dirk answered gruffly.

Geoffrey continued, undaunted. "Well, you were the last one to see her. She was really happy the night we annexed Grand Kirilia. So something must have happened. Did you say something or do something to upset her?"

"Of course not!' Dirk answered defensively.

Geoffrey and Cai exchanged knowing glances. Cai decided to pick up where Geoffrey had left off. "She just disappeared when everything was fine? No argument? Nothing at all?"

Dirk looked suddenly self-conscious. "Arguing is sport to her. One has nothing to do with the other."

"What did you say to her then?" Geoffrey asked curiously. He really liked Zyrdicia and was sad she was gone. Everyone was. Dirk was a lot easier to live with when she was around. They were winning the war because of her, they were swimming in money - which Geoffrey enjoyed spending on useless things in Lyr. The castle was actually fun for a change. The people she brought with her were good to have around, as well. Portia had promised to help coach him how to woo Princess Ariel. Anthony had taken Geoffrey to Lyr to visit the Cauldron frequently, too. Geoffrey frowned as he realized that he should have known that Dirk would find a way to ruin it all.

"Nothing! Enough of this!" Dirk banged his fist on the table and glared at his brother. This conversation was only worsening his already dark mood.

Vector appeared then. "Ah, good evening, my lord. Your father sends his... greetings."

"What are you saying?"

"He was just awake a moment ago," the Wizard replied. "For the past hour we discussed his plans for the kingdom. He was a bit feeble-minded, however. He kept insisting that I summon his guards to arrest you for usurping his throne. Fortunately for you he returned to his coma."

"Actually, Vector, it is fortunate for the incompetent fool who put him in the coma!"

Geoffrey looked ill. Things were going from bad to worse. He really hoped his father did not wake up. Life with Dirk was often difficult, but it would be much worse if Saris regained consciousness. He looked at his brother and for a brief instant, there was something akin to fraternal understanding between them.

Dirk sighed angrily. Vector's news only served to remind him of one more vital plan foiled by her premature departure. Wherever you are, my dear, I hope you are suffering horribly!

12.7.2

"Hello, Dirk," Bethel greeted seductively, opening the door to her enchanted cottage as though she expected him.

"Hi," he purred, kissing her hand as he stood in the doorway.

Bethel smiled sensually and drew him inside into the candle-filled space. She was very pleased he had come to her again. "I heard the demon returned to its master in Hell," she commented nonchalantly.

"Ever resourceful, Bethel. And how did you hear that?" the prince crooned, bending over her hand, turning it to touch his lips delicately the underside of her wrist.

"Vector isn't the only one with sources on the Outer Planes. You know, she was only pretending to be part human. Her true form was like the beast in the library."

"How do you know about the demon in the library?" Dirk asked casually.

"Vector told me," Bethel answered, too quickly perhaps.

"Ah. I'm glad to be rid of her, then," Dirk smiled. "But I didn't come here to discuss...that creature. I came to discuss us," he said as he leaned down to kiss his Witch. He did still have need of her services, after all. He still had a continent to conquer. He would simply have to revert to his original plan, prior to the distraction that began over the summer.

"I missed you," Bethel said warmly.

"Yes, it really has been far too long, hasn't it?"

"I was beginning to doubt your intention to make me your queen."

"Oh, Bethel, really. I'm disappointed. I thought you knew me better than that. I hoped to use that...beast's...magical power to destroy our enemies. It was a necessary ruse to trick...it...into doing my bidding. After all, the sooner the South falls, the sooner we can announce our marriage. Surely you weren't jealous?"

"Of course not," Bethel lied, freeing him of his heavy leather armor. "But I was worried about your safety."

"How touching," he whispered, pulling her against him.

12.7.3

Dirk left Bethel's cottage soon after they had finished reacquainting themselves. He had no interest in sleeping there. She was not surprised when he left her bed in order to dress and return to Castle Blackpool. He always did.

The ride back through the forest gave the pensive prince time alone with his thoughts. Something about the encounter with Bethel disturbed him. A few things did, in fact. He had known instinctively that she had lied to him several times. It appeared things were definitely back to normal, then.

One thing was not back to normal, though. He had not enjoyed the pleasures of the flesh as much as he once had. It had been pleasant enough, of course, and Bethel was well practiced in the art of pleasing him. It certainly helped relieve the grim mood he had been in all week. Something about it was different than it once had been, but just what that something was hovered just outside his mind's grasp. Ultimately, he decided it did not matter. He had coaxed his treacherous Witch back into his service. That was all that was important.

Castle Blackpool was quiet when the prince returned. At this late hour, most of the residents were already asleep. The nocturnal carousing of the previous season had ended, and the castle had returned to its normal rhythm. The prince nodded to himself as he walked through the silent halls. No laughter or inane games broke the stillness. Things were as they should be once again.

In his chambers, a warm fire awaited him. His chambermaid was just preparing to leave the room after turning down the bed and fluffing his pillow. Knowing the night was cold and he would be returning quite late, she had also left a glass decanter of hot, mulled wine on a tea light on his table.

She smiled and curtsied politely when the prince walked in, knowing that servants in the castle were never permitted to speak unless spoken to. As she turned to go, she noticed Dirk watching her curiously and blushed, averting her eyes modestly. She had been exceptionally well-trained.

"Come here," the prince ordered calmly. "What is your name?"

"Meredith, my lord," she answered, eyes downcast. The girl looked quite afraid. Like several of the servants, she had walked in on the prince with Zyrdicia often enough over the past few months to be quite frightened. None of the servants ever spoke of it. They all knew better. Some of the things she had seen still haunted her.

"Meredith, my valet has already left for the night. Removing my armor is such a bother by myself."

"Shall I summon the valet for you, Lord Blackpool?" she stammered.

"No. I don't want to wait. Here," he gestured to his side, "There are three latches there. Can you open them for me?" He smiled the smile of a cat regarding a terrified mouse trapped between its paws.

She reached up and fumbled nervously with the silver clasps fastening the scales of leather together. He could have easily done it himself. He needed no valet. She tried hard to pretend she did not see him watching her as she went about the task. When she had done as the prince asked, he said, "Well done. You may go." He intended to play with the mouse a while before devouring it.

When she had gone, Dirk poured himself a goblet of the warm, spiced wine, and chuckled. Cai had been right after all. Months ago his seneschal had told him the new chambermaid was quite infatuated with him. He had forgotten all about it until now. The prince had not really noticed the girl before. He had been too distracted. She was certainly pleasant enough to look at. Cai always made sure of that. Her very proper feminine modesty and meekness before him was refreshing.

He finished removing his armor and settled contentedly in his chair in front of the fire, sipping his wine. Life was, indeed, back to normal. He felt rather relieved, pleased in fact. It was almost like waking up from the strangest, longest dream of his life into the familiar warmth of his own bed. The calm was welcome. He would have no trouble finishing the South off on his own, he decided. He needed no one. No one at all, he thought.

The warmth of the fire, the wine, his visit with Bethel and the late hour combined to make him rather sleepy. He started to doze in the chair. He yawned, nodding off.

A strange, loud crackling in the fireplace jarred him awake with a start. His inhaled sharply when he opened his eyes. The flames were purple. He glanced around suspiciously. Every candle in the room had been extinguished. The unnatural glow of the hellfire was the room's sole illumination.

He wondered suddenly whether he were perhaps dreaming. He watched transfixed as a small spark was thrown from the popping log to land upon the gray stone at his feet. The spark seemed to change in hue, darkening gradually from one shade of purple to the next. When it had become so dark that it was almost black, it then lightened in hue until it was the palest lavender. The color change reversed itself several times, the spark growing larger and brighter each time. After a few moments, it expanded outward rapidly upon the floor. Dirk rubbed his eyes, certain he was imagining it all.

The strange glow upon the floor transformed in shape upward and outward in a formless, ever-changing shape. A great, winged demon materialized within it. It looked quite unlike the beast who had tried to kidnap Zyrdicia in the library. In fact, it looked rather human, but for its wicked-looking, pointed, black fingernails and enormous wings of black feathers. Something about its face reminded Dirk of Zyrdicia - the luminosity of the pale skin, the elegant bone structure, the enormous eyes. There was an uncanny family resemblance.

It looked down at him in his chair and smiled faintly. "Good evening, Prince Blackpool."

"Who are you?"

"I have many names. You may call me Astaroth. I am Zyr's messenger." The angel stretched his luxurious wings out slightly and smiled knowingly. His expression seemed to suggest that he knew every secret in the universe.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, mortal, a better question is what do you want? And why have you given it up so easily?"

"I don't know what you are talking about."

The angel shook its head, its knowing smile unchanged and chided, "You can lie to yourself and your human colleagues with impunity. You are, after all, quite adept at it. You cannot lie to us, princeling. We see your soul, your lust for power, your need to be feared, the craving for her that even now you suppress and subdue. We created you after all."

Dirk glared silently at the intruder. This had to be a dream. He willed himself to wake up from it.

It seemed to hear his thoughts and said, "No, this is not a dream. Though I can speak to you that way too. Your dreamworld is easy for me to invade. You did enjoy the dreams I brought to you from Zyr before, did you not?" Its expression darkened slightly as it added, "And were she not so stubborn in her protection of her own dreamworld, she would have enjoyed such dreams of you as well. Pity."

"I am no longer interested. I banish you from my dreamworld. Go!" the prince commanded angrily.

Astaroth regarded him curiously and made a peculiar gesture in the air. Dirk gasped as pain exploded across his sword arm. He looked down and saw a deep gash appear across the underside of his forearm. The angel reached down and drew its icy hand gently across the lacerated skin. The blood flow stopped, though the wound did not close. The entity touched the prince's blood to its lips and licked it delicately. It smiled exquisitely, delighted by the blood's taste. "Yes, prince, she acquired the taste for it from us. She does not understand why she sometimes craves it, but we do. The taste of yours would please her."

Dirk stared in disbelief, ignoring the pain in his arm. He realized suddenly that the creature had sharp, pointed teeth.

The angel continued, "The wound will remind you tomorrow and for many days to come that this was no dream. I know of no other way to convince you. And it is very important that I convince you."

"Why?"

"We have many important things to discuss tonight."

Dirk's mind raced. He could not imagine why this creature had come to him, but surely there was some advantage he could gain by it. He suddenly remembered his conversation with Zyrdicia immediately following the slaughter in Mora Valley. If a pact with a demon would expedite his conquest of the South, his soul was a trivial price to pay. It was not as though he had any use for it in this world, and he could not care less about the next. He wanted conquest now. "I want Zyrdicia's power," he said quietly. "If you have come to strike a deal for my soul in exchange for it, I accept."

The dark angel laughed unexpectedly. The melodic laughter was eerily reminiscent of someone else Dirk knew. "Yes, you want Zyrdicia's power. How often that sentiment has been expressed in Tenaebra of late! For a mortal, you are very amusing. You fail to see your purpose in Zyr's design, however."

"What purpose?"

"Zyr cannot accept your soul, for soulless mortals cannot breed. You would be impotent." The angel watched in amusement as Dirk's eyes widened in shock and his face paled. "Your species always forgets that the act of procreation, which is its unique attribute, is inextricably linked to the soul. Mortgaging the soul has permanent physical consequences."

"I had no idea," Dirk gasped, terribly glad the deal had not been a success.

"You have no idea about many things, princeling. Zyr has been acting as a supernatural patron to you for a very long time. You should feel honored."

"Return her to serve me, then."

"No, that cannot be. Her human blood endows her with free will. As you desire her, so does Azriok. She is currently besieged by his minion's magic. Your blindness to the effect of that magic already nearly cost you victory. Azriok has never come as close to succeeding as he did the night she departed from this land. Zyr was very disappointed with you then. Had he not already invested so much effort into you, he would have chosen another."

Dirk's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Chosen another what?"

The dark angel smiled mysteriously. Instead of answering, he said, "You have been enjoying the fruits of Zyr's patronage. He arranged for the arcanium in your mountains, making you very wealthy. He gave you the kingdom of Tronin as a gift, and, indirectly, the Kirilian islands as well. He orchestrated the attraction between you and that which you desire, encoding it inextricably in your very blood-and hers as well. The irresistible allure you have often experienced - we created that too. Now we want something from you in return. It's a very small thing, mind you. Trivial when you consider how useful Zyr's support has been to you."

"What do you want?" Dirk asked suspiciously, not at all pleased with the conversational turn.

The creature leaned nearer the prince and whispered, "Your seed. Zyrdicia must breed or both our races face extinction."

Dirk glared at the angel darkly, his mind searching for a way to turn this back to his own benefit. "I will consider your request only after you fulfil certain demands of mine," he announced.

Astaroth frowned, "I am not here to bargain with you, arrogant mortal. You will follow your destiny or we will destroy you and choose another."

"Deliver her back to me immediately and see to it that she is instructed to secure my conquest of all of Aparans - by Midwinter. She did well enough following your instructions with Tronin. Also - I want a magical spell of some sort that will give me total control over her this time, compelling her to obey my every command. She is to return as my slave. And I should like to see a host of demons rip Erick Greystone asunder - slowly - before my eyes, this very night."

The dark angel laughed, "Is that all? No demand for immortality? Or everlasting youth, perhaps?"

"Should I have additional demands, I know how to reach you," Dirk winked, fingering the monocle.

Astaroth's eyes filled with unholy innocence. His diabolic psyche pressed inexorably against the prince's mind, uncomfortably impressing itself upon him. His vocal tone seemed to drop to a snarl. "I am not a genie, and I shall not grant you any wishes today. We could easily take from you what we desire. I could imprison your soul and take possession of your body, robbing it of its seed. I could then devour you and arrange a gruesome torment for your shade in the underworld. Your choice plays no role in this. Hers does. Failure to cooperate will have eternal consequences, but you have only begun to discover the rewards available to you for allying with us. Why restrict your ambition merely to Camarand when we could give you the entire world?" The dark angel released the prince's psyche, staring at him intently.

"And what of the Edict?" the prince sneered.

"The Dark One foresaw that ploy centuries ago. He will reveal a method to overcome it, when the time is appropriate." The entity pointed a finger at the monocle hanging from Dirk's neck, and a burst of purple light flowed from his finger into the shard of magical glass. "Your bauble will now take you to Lyr - once only. Retrieving her is your responsibility. Your troops will not see another victory as long as she is outside of your lands! Everything we have given you we will take away, if you delay. Tronin, the islands, your new navy and your wealth - we will take it all back, if you disappoint us."

Dirk's eyes raged as the words sunk in. The implication infuriated him. These demons would dare withhold total victory from him when he was so close!

The angel's enormous eyes bored into the prince as it warned, "Know this, mortal: if Azriok succeeds in pulling her back to him, you and your entire species will cease to exist before the sunwheel turns again. All human life will be annihilated. You will be among the first to die." With that, Astaroth disappeared.