13.5

Dirk awoke to the smell of sulphur. His eyes blinked open to see a spurt of magma jettison up from the horizon in the distance. Twin red suns illuminated a lilac sky. The prince sat up from the place on the ground where he lay, surprised by the alien landscape. The place was a barren, volcanic wasteland. He sighed in frustration as he realized that one unpleasant dream had given way to another. The morning, it seemed, would never come. He wanted nothing more than to find himself in his bed, in his room, in his castle, in his country in the continent he was about to conquer.

As he stood up, a shimmer in the air heralded a magical arrival. Astaroth materialized in a violet burst of sparks. The dark angel hovered in the air, staring at the prince expectantly. He carried the monocle in one hand, and the scabbard containing both the prince's sword and dagger in the other. The angel smiled cordially. "Do you feel rested, mortal?"

"No," Dirk said testily. He did, in fact, feel much better. The weariness had left his body, as had his need for food. He reached quickly for his possessions in the angel's hand.

Astaroth held them out of reach and shook his head as though denying a child a treat. "In time. You have yet to succeed in the task I set for you."

"What you want is as impossible as it is loathsome," Dirk spat angrily.

Astaroth smiled knowingly. "She hopes to push you away by causing you to hate her. She lies quite deliberately in order to accomplish that effect."

"And succeeds remarkably," Dirk smirked grimly.

"You shall have another opportunity to please us, to earn the conquest you crave." Astaroth made a gesture in the air and Zyrdicia appeared. She looked shocked. Her shoulder was healed now.

She glanced from Dirk to the Sephiroth. Her eyes narrowed. She seemed to believe they were conspiring against her to bring her to this world. The malice in her eyes left no room to doubt her intention. She summoned her sword. She spoke in Tenaebran, "Astaroth, I had promised myself Baal would be the next Sephiroth I slay - but I shall break that promise for you."

"You wouldn't dare," the angel answered, sounding rather uncertain.

She snarled, "I would. And will. You will lose your position in Zyr's hierarchy when I banish you from this world-- and eventually from the Astral Plane. A messenger trapped in Hell will be a useless thing!"

Astaroth shook his head slowly. The Sephiroth sent her sword back into the ether, just as Baal once had. She responded by attempting to unleash a volley of magic against him. Nothing happened. The angel smiled innocently as the look of surprise registered on her face. He spoke in the human tongue that the prince understood, rather than the magical tongue of Hell's lords. "No magic. No weapons. No escape. I shall keep both of you here for eternity, if necessary. Until you both come to your senses - limited as they may be by the human blood."

"Until we what?" she asked incredulously.

"You have as long as you require together to solve whatever animosity now separates you. Your human blood endows you both with free will, unfortunately, but Zyr has every right to provide proper motivation for you to exercise it appropriately. You were both created for a specific purpose. If you choose not to fulfil that purpose, there is no reason to grant either of you the privilege of freedom."

"You are going to trap me here?" Zyrdicia asked, here eyes wide.

"Precisely," Astaroth smiled. "Until you choose to side with us, there will be no more access to Zyr's magic." The angel vanished then.

Zyrdicia and Dirk glared at one another, each silently blaming the other for their current predicament. She growled, "You never should have come to Lyr. Had you minded your own business and left me alone..."

"You never should have left Aparans!" he interrupted harshly. "Had you remained where you belong, none of this would have happened. Blame yourself, not me!"

"I blame you for all of this," she responded wrathfully. "I blame you for the fact that Azriok feels compelled to stop at nothing to get me back. I blame you for the presence of a Sephiroth murmuring incessantly in my head, tormenting my every waking moment. I blame you for accelerating the game in Hell, for forcing my hand in involvement in that conflict. Had I never met you, never become involved with you, none of this would now be happening. I would be merrily destroying the cosmos without a care in the world!"

This was the first inkling Dirk had of the difficulty their relationship had wrought in her life. Hearing the desperate edge to her voice pleased him. She deserved whatever agony the universe dealt her. "I had believed that I was the only one who was inconvenienced by the effect of our involvement. Knowing that you suffer too makes it somewhat easier to bear the fact that you have cost me the monocle, my sword, tens of millions of kolnas, and have managed to impede my conquest of Aparans."

Zyrdicia ignored him, looking around carefully at their surroundings. It was a dreamworld - not hers, or his, but someone's. It was malleable to the Sephiroth. He could control its contours and rules perfectly. Since it belonged to someone else, short of possession, there was no way back into the world of the living. Only the owner's dreamspirit could pass in or out. "There is no exit without magic!" she murmured in disbelief.

Dirk snapped, "Given your penchant for fleeing, it's a fitting punishment for you. Apparently my own punishment is having to bear your company."

Zyrdicia waved her hand dismissively and turned away from him. She moved near a great boulder and sat down next to it. She leaned her back comfortably against the rock and stared at the horizon, bored. Baal was gone from her mind, inexplicably. Wherever she was, he could not reach her. Of all the times to lose contact with him, this one was terribly inconvenient. She needed his help. She thought silently, weighing her options. She realized the absolute emptiness in her head was disconcerting. She had grown accustomed to at least a lingering trace of the angel, watching and waiting as she held him at bay. In that sense, they had become quite close. In a way, the emptiness of his sudden absence reminded her of the first moments after trapping Azriok in Hell and severing her psychic connection to him.

"Do you have any idea how to escape?" Dirk asked irritably.

"No. But when I do Astaroth will discover an entrapment of his own." She looked around, certain the angel was listening. "I would rather die than concede defeat to one such as he."

"You really find that preferable to giving in to his demand?"

"It's the principle of the matter."

"Wars are never won upon principle. A cleverer strategy would be to admit defeat in this battle in order to exact fitting vengeance at a later date. As usual, your rashness clouds your judgment."

"If this is a prelude into another of your tirades about how impulsive, capricious, or childish I am, spare me. I'm really not in the mood."

"It's true. You are impulsive, capricious and childish," Dirk responded stubbornly. "As well as irrational and irritating."

"And? It's also true that you are pompous, overbearing and egotistical. And incapable of accomplishing anything at all without my involvement."

"To date your involvement has hindered more than it has accomplished! Do you even know where we are?"

"No." She frowned, looking around. "But we aren't in our bodies. He's taken them somewhere else. We're trapped in a nightmare."

Hours passed in an angry silence. They sat across from each other, separated by several yards amid the boulders. Conversation had become a silent exchange of acrimonious glares. Bitterness, resentment and frustration seemed to crackle in the air.

As time ticked by, nastiness required too much energy, and boredom settled in instead. They were both far too stubborn to break the boredom with conversation. Searching for a way out of the stale hostility would have been a sign of defeat. Neither of them would utter the first word.

After an interminable wait, Astaroth materialized, scowling. The dark angel hovered in the air above them and looked down upon them as one might at two disobedient children. "Do you doubt my intention to keep you here forever?" he asked angrily in the human tongue of Aparans.

"Doubt it? I laugh at it!" Zyrdicia mocked. "The Twilight approaches. Zyr cannot survive without me. There isn't a chance in Hell you will leave me here."

"There are many chances in Hell you can scarcely fathom," Astaroth sneered.

"I'll find a way to contact Azriok," Zyrdicia threatened, reverting to Tenaebran. "I wonder if you will suffer as much as Baphim did when Azriok is finished with you."

Astaroth's eyes widened slightly. He knew all too well what Azriok had done with Baphim. The threat appeared to unnerve him, though he countered, "You cannot reach Azriok. Or Baal. Or anyone else. I have isolated you completely from the rest of Tenaebra." Dirk's eyes narrowed as he watched them converse in the secret demon-tongue.

"That's ridiculous!" she declared to the dark angel. "All this succeeds in doing is pissing me off. You know very well that I was on the verge of giving Zyr what he wants."

"No. You were on the verge of wasting more time upon fruitless endeavors. Your plan would have failed. You are only able to conceive by one of the Chosen. It has all been arranged with careful precision. Did you think we would permit you to breed indiscriminately?" Astaroth smiled at her speechless reaction. "There is but one way this can end."

Zyrdicia looked crest-fallen. She had never imagined that her plan to breed using the magic found in the City of Angels would be doomed. It simply had not occurred to her that Zyr would have limited her ability to conceive so severely. He was cornering her into playing the game his way. To pursue her plan to spawn Zyr's soul and absorb its magic so that she could destroy Azriok, she would have to conform to his rules.

Astaroth looked at the suspicious prince curiously. He reverted to mortal speech to advise, "I think it isn't enough to merely threaten you with hindering your conquest of your continent. Should I ever let you out of here, if you fail in the role we bred you for, you shall lose your kingdom entirely. We will permit your enemy, Greystone, to defeat you and 'liberate' your kingdom. You will be left with nothing at all." Astaroth laughed eerily, then disappeared.

Dirk's expression remained fixed as stone. He said nothing, seething silently as he pondered the threat.

"And to think there are those who wonder why I detest the Sephiroth so," Zyrdicia muttered darkly.

"Are they all as annoying as that one?" Dirk asked, grimacing.

"Mm," she nodded, sighing. "Some are even more so." Their gazes locked for an instant as each made a tactical assessment of the situation.

A shrill shriek in the air above them interrupted their individual plotting. A great bird-like monster circled overhead. It beat the air with massive, reptilian wings. An instant later a large blob of a flaming gelatinous substance shot forth from its mouth, landing in the space between Dirk and Zyrdicia. They were on their feet instantly.

"Do you know what it is?" Dirk asked quickly.

"Firebeak. A lesser demon. Easily dispatched with magic. Of which we have none. Vulnerable to steel. Of which we also have none." The bird spit a second glob of flames toward them, forcing them to jump out of its path.

Dirk pointed toward the rocks in the distance and shouted, "I saw the mouth of a cave over there. Run!"

She nodded, dodging another gooey conflagration. A second cry joined the first in the air. They now had two demons to contend with. The cave was the only way to get out of the line of fire. Without weapons or magic, they were too vulnerable in the open. Fire rained down all around them as they raced for shelter.

They hurtled into the darkness of the cave's entrance, stopping just inside. It was nothing more than a small chamber carved into the rock. Given their height, it was surprisingly cramped. Zyrdicia glanced around the smooth stone cell curiously. She turned to examine the side walls, certain there must be more to it. Outside, the demons shrieked angrily.

Focussing her attention, Zyrdicia ran her fingers carefully over the contour of the stone walls, searching for any sign of a hidden door. Without warning Dirk reached for her and grabbed her arm, yanking her hard toward the back of the recess where he stood. Her body hit the back wall of the cave with a bone-jarring thud.

A glob of the Firebeak's spittle exploded just inside the cave entrance then, very near where she had been standing. The demons sent a volley of sticky fire from the air toward the cave mouth, refusing to believe their quarry had evaded them. Zyrdicia glanced at Dirk in surprise, as she realized he had seen the approaching flames and had pulled her out of harm's way. "Thank you," she murmured, turning her gaze back to the cave mouth. She ignored the fact that Dirk still grasped her forearm in the place he had grabbed her. She neither pulled away nor acknowledged the touch.

The Firebeaks continued their assault. The heat and explosive flames confined Dirk and Zyrdicia against the back wall of the cave. The demons were patient. It seemed they had every intention of keeping it up forever.

"Shall we call a truce until we can find a way out of this?" Dirk suggested in a neutral tone.

Zyrdicia nodded in assent, still staring at the flames that confined them to the rear of the cave. Without looking at him, she added, "If I remember correctly, the last truce you offered me turned out to be anything but. Is this another ruse masking secret plans to escalate the conflict?"

Dirk stared intently at her trying to interpret her tone. He recognized the reference to the night they had tangled in the snow. He saw a hint of a smile flicker on her lips and decided she was playing. "If it were, do you really think I would tell you?" he asked evenly. When she turned and met his gaze briefly, he smiled then added, "Besides, the particular escalation to which you were referring worked out rather well for both of us at the time."

She turned away again, watching the demon spittle fall like bombs at the cave entrance. "I know. I remember," she noted quietly, her lips curling slightly.

"Do you? I had begun to wonder whether your experience with the demons had given you some sort of amnesia," Dirk mused, watching the flashes of fire reflect in the purple of her eyes for a moment. She shrugged, still refusing to look at him. He could not resist the urge to mock their earlier exchange and muttered smugly, "Faked, indeed."

Zyrdicia's laughter escaped despite her attempt to affect emotional distance. It was the first time in days that she had been able to laugh at all. "Such a thing is possible, you know," she responded in amusement, glancing at him at of the corner of her eye.

"Not for you," Dirk countered smoothly.

"I suppose not," she murmured, smiling. Being self-absorbed, demanding and obsessed with pleasure tended to limit such possibilities.

"The servants are still repairing the damage your purported fakery caused to my hunting lodge several weeks ago."

Her smile faded, then she leaned back against the cave wall and stared at the ground, remembering what she believed had been the apogee of their involvement.

"Why didn't you tell me that you had been attacked by the demon the night you left?" Dirk asked, his piercing gaze fixed upon her.

The purple pools of her eyes moved up to look at him finally. No vestige of mirth remained in them. She answered in a whisper, "Because I couldn't. I lost; it won. It took an enormous act of will power to even go to see you after it happened. It got inside me and took control."

"What did?"

"A Sephiroth sent by Azriok. You remember when we rode from your castle to Grogan during the summer, how furious you were when I was talking in your head using the mind speech and you could not get rid of me?"

"Of course."

"It's like that for me now all the time," she frowned. "But in a more profound way. It's like having a secondary presence in my head. I can't sleep, ever. As long as I'm awake, I can restrain it and deal with it. When I sleep, it has free reign in my psyche. It's awful."

"Even now?"

"No, wherever we are, Baal cannot reach me right now. But he will be waiting for me on the other side," she said, sounding resigned to it. In her eyes, he saw a trace of the fragility that he associated with her nightmares.

Dirk sighed stubbornly, leaning against the wall of the cave near her. He had no doubt that whatever she had been through was terrifying. Astaroth's attention left him with a fresh appreciation for the distressing nature of the powerful beings who tormented her. An unfamiliar emotion stirred within him. It was not guilt exactly, but rather a strange blend of regret, misgiving and irritation. It was unwelcome. He sounded altogether uncomfortable as he mumbled, "Had I known, I would not have..."

"I know," she interrupted, her brow furrowed. "It truly doesn't matter. Whether we ended it then or days or weeks later, the end was inevitable."

"Such nihilism is rather unlike you."

"I've learned a great deal about the cosmos since the Sephiroth took up residence inside me," she said bitterly. "I was enjoying myself in your world far too much for Azriok to tolerate. His intervention was unavoidable."

"You never concede defeat so easily."

She looked pained as she explained, "I'm sick of it. It's like being caught in an impossible game of tug-of-war that never ends. One side wants to breed us. The other side will stop at nothing to keep us apart. "

"And what do you want?" he asked, his eyes drilling into her.

"To escape. To destroy them."

"That isn't what I meant."

"I realize that," she said stubbornly, turning to watch the explosions falling from the heavens outside the cave. She was no more prepared to give him a profession of devotion than he was to give her one. Such behavior was alien to both of them. She sighed, pondering momentarily Astaroth's revelation. Without Dirk, she would never be able to destroy Azriok. With an almost imperceptible movement, her body slid a few inches along the wall they both leaned against. Their shoulders brushed together. She inclined her head gently toward him, until it rested against his own head. The simple, understated gesture of affection said all she was capable of at the moment.

A few moments passed, then he turned his face and pressed his lips to her hair. He was relieved the ordeal seemed to be resolving itself. The demonic impediment to his conquest of Aparans might be overcome after all. He whispered, "When we escape here, you will return with me to Castle Blackpool."

"No."

"No?" he repeated, reaching to turn her face toward him so that he could see her face.

"No," she repeated firmly as they stared into each others eyes. She sounded as though she were trying to convince herself. Her tone softened as she added, "Someday, maybe. It isn't my choice to make right now."

"I relieve you of the burden of that choice, then. I insist!" he purred, holding her face between both his hands.

"Dirk, I can't. Baal won't permit it. He would rip me apart from inside if I tried, and probably kill you if he could figure out who you are."

"There must be some way to rid yourself of the demon's influence!"

"There is. If I can kill him on the Astral Plane, it will be done with. Unfortunately, that will be terribly difficult. He's immune to my magic and my blade. Short of that, I'll never be rid of him." Her voice was anguished and melancholy. She added, "This is the first genuine respite I've had from him in days. The only other way I've found to keep him at bay is to immerse myself in intense physical distraction."

Dirk turned her face toward him and peered at her through narrowed eyes. The truce between them fell apart at that moment and the hostility reasserted itself. "And how did you discover physical distraction will keep the demon at bay?"

Zyrdicia's wry smile answered the question for her. There was neither guilt nor contrition on her face as she made the silent admission.

The prince's eyes raged suddenly. After seeing her brazen display at the Cauldron, he had expected as much. Her nonchalant admission of it only caused the jealousy and anger he had experienced that night to reconstitute itself from memory. He pulled his hand away from her face, overwhelmed suddenly by a very powerful urge to strike her. His open hand hovered in the air a moment before his self-discipline reasserted itself. His hand moved to his side, clenching into a tight fist. "The assassin?" he whispered, his tone poisonous.

She nodded, regarding him curiously.

"I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"What does it have to do with you?" she wondered.

"Because you are mine," he hissed.

"At that point, I needed the release from Baal's babbling, and he provided it. Sort of. We've been friends for a long time. So what?"

"Is that the real reason you left Aparans?" he asked sharply.

"No, I left Aparans because Baal was driving me back to Azriok, not Magnus. I escaped that fate narrowly, and when I needed someone, Magnus was there. You weren't." The words were a simple statement of fact rather than an accusation. She watched his jaw clench and studied the anger on his face. She explained gently, "It wasn't even close to what we once shared. His mind lacks telepathy, he cares too much about me to hurt me, and he doesn't really understand pain. Few mortals do. Most of the time I wished I was with you instead."

"How touching," Dirk replied snidely.

"I don't understand why you are reacting this way. I have never had a shortage of mortal friends able to provide me with meaningless affection, cuddling and caresses. This was essentially just that. The things that matter - the pleasure/pain nexus within me, psychic and spiritual fusion - in a hundred and fifteen years, you are the only mortal I've shared them with. And as far as I was concerned, we were over."

"Such 'loyalty' leaves much to be desired."

"It's not like I care in the least what you do with Bethel. I have no doubt that you saw her in my absence."

"Of course I did," he said defiantly.

"And it was totally unlike being with me. And therefore it doesn't matter. And if it does somehow, you are just as guilty as I am." She looked into his eyes then added, "Besides, I am absolutely certain while you were with her you tried to visualize being with me instead."

"You are unbearable!" he whispered angrily.

"But am I right?" she smiled.

His eyes told her that she was. His eyes bored into hers as he whispered, "I cannot convey strongly enough how loathsome it is to me that I need you in order to conquer Aparans."

Zyrdicia held his gaze and replied, "No, the real reason it bothers you is that conquest is not the only need you have of me. You hate the fact that no matter how much I enrage you, how much I offend you, the yearning never goes away. You hate the fact that you hunger to feel me inside your psyche and to be wrapped inside my soul so that you can experience my power, and for a moment at least, believe that it is yours. But most of all, I suspect you hate your recent discovery that mortal sex in itself no longer satisfies you." She had been inside his mind often enough the past few months to know. He had no idea how much she had learned about him there.

Dirk's eyes fell to her neck. He smiled softly, then reached his arm behind her shoulders, as though to embrace her. Instead, his arm moved without warning to jerk her against him, his elbow closing around her neck. He tightened his grip until he was certain she could not breathe. "I have never wanted to kill you as much as I do at this moment," he said calmly, as he watched the studs of his armor pressing into the soft, white skin of her pretty throat.

She gasped, "Go ahead. Try to kill me. You will fail, and if by chance you should succeed, you can take your cue from Nevvert."

"With each passing moment you sink to a new low. That was uncalled for, really," he said, obviously disgusted by the thought. He loosened his hold on her.

She made no effort to move away. "You wouldn't do it?"

"No," he replied coldly. "Such behavior - and your apparent fascination with it - is repugnant."

"If the situation were reversed with you, I would, I think." She giggled suddenly, then added, "I've never thought about circumventing the Edict that way. Hm. Maybe I should kill you..."

"You fail to amuse me," he chided, lying. He resisted the urge to smile. In a perverse, revolting way, it was a compliment, and he knew it.

She suddenly seemed very much herself again. The bitter, hostile, melancholic creature she had been a short time ago was but a memory now. She continued, "To be fair, I think I would have to summon your shade back from the underworld so that you could enjoy it too. You would make a handsome vampire. You already have the wardrobe and the spooky castle. And you would finally have a decent sleeping schedule and adopt my hours." She was overcome by another fit of giggling at the thought.

"Your need to fantasize about me is quite understandable," he teased, feigning concern. "You really should find a more appropriate outlet for those thoughts, however."

"What can I say? I missed playing with you," she sighed, entwining her hands around his neck.

"Then you should have returned, and spared me the need to come to your wretched city. And the need to be trapped here."

She responded by nuzzling against him. She smiled as she felt him embrace her. In his ear she whispered, "I'm in no hurry to escape the trap now. When the trap ends, so does this, Dirk." His arms tightened around her, squeezing her firmly as though it would prevent her prophecy from coming to pass. The diabolically scripted attraction which drew them together was hardwired in their beings. Anger and frustration were an inexplicable part of its essence. It was not an end in itself as it might have been for other people. It served them as a means to other things - power in varying forms, a break from the psychic isolation that defines human existence, fulfillment unavailable from any other source. Yet its tug was primal and unescapable.

Before they could submit further to it, the world seemed to swirl and dissolve around them. In an instant, the besieged cave was gone. They found themselves in a trapezoidal chamber piled high with platinum. The enormous mountain of coins had been leveled and shaped to create a large, couch shaped indentation midway up it. This indentation was heaped with violet cushions. A set of stairs had been shaped in the coin pile leading up to the sitting area. Shelves containing strange bric-a-brac and books lined the walls of the chamber.

Zyrdicia laughed as she looked around.

"What do you find so amusing?" Dirk wondered, perplexed by the sudden change.

"Astaroth is rewarding us. Moving us to a more comfortable jail. In my house."

"In the cloud world?"

"Yes."

"Then you can get us out of here."

"Not without magic. No doors - see?"

"Surely you have an alternate exit."

"Of course not. I never imagined not having magic," she said.

"And what exactly is this room?"

"A storage room. I haven't been here in years."

"It looks more like a treasury -kept with the same sort of disorder that seems to permeate your life," he smirked.

"Not really. It's just one of hundreds of places I keep money. I used to sometimes sleep here. The dragon suggested I try it years ago. Something about wealth keeping nightmares away."

"Did it work?"

"Of course not. But it fed my ego, so I made a habit out of it for a while."

"And the rest of these things?"

"Most of its from the old days of Lyr. I haven't looked through this stuff in more decades than I care to remember."

"You lose track of the details of your life, it would seem. Do you have the faintest idea where all your money and possessions scattered?"

"If I had to, I suppose I could reconstruct most of it. I deposit things here and there as it suits me. I pay people to keep track of the bulk of the plats. Little stashes like this don't really count."

Dirk glanced at the "little stash." It consisted easily of several million plats - the equivalent of tens, perhaps hundreds of millions of kolnas. She buried it and forgot about it like a dog might an uninteresting bone. He turned and stared at her, asking, "You don't even know how much is here, do you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not. Here. Elsewhere. Anywhere. I lost track of it. All together, it was in the billions of plats a decade or so ago. It multiplies so rapidly now that I stopped caring. In my world, coinage seems to breed when people aren't watching it."

Dirk sighed. He had noticed such an influence upon his own treasury during the months prior to his departure. For a time, the arcanium wealth had seemed to expand limitlessly in Castle Blackpool, in Geshna, throughout the North.

She watched Dirk's eyes travel along the shelves littered with memories from a bygone era. "May I?" he asked, gesturing to them. She nodded indifferently and watched the prince move to one of the bookshelves. He had seen very little of her private sphere. He recognized that Lyr was nothing but a public affectation. Apart from his brief, distracted visit to her home in the summer, he had seen nothing of her world. Trapped and bored, he was curious as to what this place would reveal about her. She let him explore, certain there was nothing of interest.

On one shelf, among a pile of forgotten real estate deeds and trust notes he found a small pile of charcoal drawings. The paper was already yellowed with age. The drawings depicted various manifestations of horror, snarling demons predominating. The surreal perspective gave them a dream-like quality. He wondered whether those were the creatures that inhabited her nightmares. "You made these?"

"A very long time ago," she nodded. Their eyes met briefly.

His gaze moved to a row of books. Most of the spines bore words which were indecipherable. Between bookends formed of a dried-up, shrunken head from some primitive tribe and the bleached skull of an unidentifiable, horned humanoid, a familiar book caught his eye. A cloud of dust scattered when he pulled it from the shelf. It looked as though it had been ignored for decades. He had to smile at the incongruence of this book in her possession. It was a collection of rather horrifying children's stories, well known in his home world. Every child in Aparans grew up with them.

Bleak's Fairy Stories and Other Tales had first been published nearly a century and a half ago. He looked at the title page was surprised to see that this was a rare original edition, signed by the author. It was part of a very small first printing by a famous Mirdon publisher. It would have been worth a fortune in a collector's library in Aparans. Odd that she would have a copy, he thought. As opened the front cover. An image of a stylized red horse had been stamped upon it by a former owner. He traced his fingers upon the family emblem. "And how did you come by this?" he whispered softly.

"It was among my mother's things. It was one of the few possessions of hers I kept."

Dirk arched an eyebrow, "Are you aware that it was published in Camarand?" He opened to the title page, pointing to the publisher's mark.

Zyrdicia read it and shook her head, "No. Had I known it came from the world of the Crusaders, I would have probably burned it when I found it."

"Why would your mother have had a book from there?"

"There were several hundred of your world's knights and their servants in Lyr then. Someone probably brought it with him and bartered it in the market."

"Unlikely," he said smugly.

"How would you know?"

"It came from the personal library of a southern aristocrat. Noble families never peddle collected volumes such as this."

"And just how do you profess to know this?" she wondered.

He flipped to the front cover and gestured, "The red horse is the personal insignia of the Duke of Kastania - in Camarand. That Duke has traditionally served as the king's chancellor there. How would your mother have acquired one of his books?"

"A better question would be 'who cares?'"

"Did that image appear on any of her other effects?" Dirk prodded.

"I don't remember," Zyrdicia lied. "She doesn't exist. Let it go." She smiled mischievously and added, "Or I will summon the Great Green Ogre to devour you."

Dirk was surprised by the unexpected reference to one of the tales contained in the volume. The story was intended to frighten small children into obeying their parents, lest the ogre come and eat them. His gaze became thoughtful as he remembered, "When I was very young, my mother had me convinced that he lived in the castle dungeon. She threatened to let him out if I misbehaved."

Zyrdicia nodded emphatically, "I was led to believe he lived in the catacombs beneath Lyr. I crept away one night to seek him out and convince him to kill the adults who annoyed me, since they were constantly misbehaving. I had a whole list of names and misdeeds scribbled down for him to punish. I was furious that I could not find the ogre. So I transcribed my list onto the catacomb walls with chalk, hoping someday he would find it." She omitted mention of the fact that Azriok eventually helped her to kill most of those people later.

"You sought out the Great Green Ogre? My dear, even as a child you were mad!" he smiled, running his fingers through her hair. Had her mother merely bought the book in the market, it was unlikely Zyrdicia would have been told that the ogre was real. That was a cultural phenomenon in Aparans. Dirk found this new bit of information intriguing, if not particularly useful yet. He would have Vector do a bit of research on the Kastans. He sensed there was a connection, and was quite determined to ferret it out.

As he started to put the book back upon the shelf, the back cover flipped open. A handwritten note had been inscribed inside it in a clean, noble script. It was dated the thirty-first of January, a hundred and thirty years earlier: "To my dearest Corinna on your fifth birthday. With love, Papa." A red bead of wax below the signature contained an impression of a horse that looked just like the one stamped in the front of the book.

Dirk looked at Zyrdicia, studying her expression. Her cheeks were flushed. She closed her eyes, knowing they reflected far too much emotion. Dirk watched her carefully control outward signs of whatever dark sentiment the revelation evoked. He found the reaction fascinating - and quite alluring.. "Corinna was your mother?" he coaxed gently.

She sighed heavily and nodded, as though it were an uncomfortable admission. "It means nothing," she said defensively.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps there is more to the Camarandian invasion of your city than you realized."

She opened her eyes and stared absently at the far wall, considering that possibility. Thinking out loud, she remarked, "Several pieces of the story have never made sense. I couldn't figure out why the Crusaders chose Lyr, or how they even knew of it. Your world is so isolated from ours. And Traquil doesn't have the power to transport an army across the Material Plane. None of your world's practitioners do. I can't figure out how the Crusaders got to Lyr."

"Perhaps you will find those answers when we conquer Kastania. And you can kill any descendants of those involved at your leisure. It's another reason to return with me when we are released," he urged, pulling her to him.

"That isn't a reason to return," she said stubbornly.

"I have several others for you then," he purred. He sensed her emotional state left her resistance to his demand diminished. She was near to agreeing. He could feel it. "If you return with me, I will have Vector help rid you of the demon who plagues you."

"Vector is useless. That also isn't a reason."

"Until the time comes for you to destroy the demon on the Astral Plane, I can help you keep him at bay."

Zyrdicia's lips curled playfully, "That's more of a reason than the others. But what if the time to kill him is now? Delay isn't to my advantage. What else do you have?"

"This." His face moved toward her. The kiss that followed seemed to last an eternity. It released the mounting frustration, antagonism, and turmoil. Rather than expressing affection, it was plea, a demand, a reclamation, a conveyance of neediness. She pulled away from it momentarily, touching her fingertips to his lips gently. Desire for the power they represented to each other filled the touch with a strange charge. It obliterated the previous hostility, annihilating memory of anything but its own call. "Your reasons become increasingly persuasive," she noted as their eyes locked.

"I haven't exhausted them yet." He watched her look at him expectantly. "Here's another: when you return with me, you will marry me." They both knew that it was not a proposal. It was a command.

Zyrdicia stared a moment as though she had not quite heard him. A second later, she was overcome by an inevitable fit of laughter. She pressed her cheek against his neck, giggling. "No, really. What other reasons do you have?"

"I'm quite serious."

"Then it makes no sense. I irritate you more than any woman you have ever known. I told you months ago that there are no happy endings."

"Ah, but that was before you caused my nobles, my army and most of my population to believe you are an incarnation of a fictional deity. Your obsessive craving for attention has had unfortunate side effects in my realm, I'm afraid."

A broad smile spread over her face as she realized he intended to use her popularity and imitation of Saxarba for some agenda of his own. There could not be anything offensive to her about such a ploy. They knew each other better than that. She was intrigued, "You hope to marry me and appear godlike in your own right. To do what?"

"Proclaim myself king."

"And that's why you came to Lyr to find me."

"In part, yes."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just kill your father? I could suck the life out of him painlessly in his sleep."

Dirk shook his head. "No. Any suspicion surrounding his death could actually delay my coronation further. I cannot risk some nobleman turning my ascension to the throne into a civil war when victory with the South is not yet final."

"You are worried that someone will keep you from becoming king," she noted with surprise. "I'm so relieved."

"Relieved?"

"I was afraid you were going to tell me that you had fallen in love, and then I would have to kill you and put you out of your misery. A scheme to grab your country's crown is much better."

"I am merely consolidating my power," he replied. Over my kingdom, over Camarand and over you.

Zyrdicia was quiet for a long time. She listened to the rhythm of his pulse beneath her cheek and pondered how to play it out. It was just one more meaningless agreement. It gave her the leverage she needed to extract what she needed to destroy Azriok. "I would want something in return," she said finally.

"You will be queen of all Aparans. What more could you want?" he crooned.

"You know very well that your continent doesn't really interest me, except as a killing field."

"After seeing your fascination with Dagonia, I no longer believe that."

"The novelty has worn off. When I return I intend to breech the dam and wash Geshna away."

He glared hard at her, trying to figure out whether she was serious. "The city is now the financial capital of the North. Do not attempt it. What else is it you are negotiating for?"

Zyrdicia hesitated. She did not look forward to this part of the conversation, to revealing that she needed him at least as much as he needed her. Her expression became earnest as she announced, "I need to get pregnant in order to put an end to the war in Hell. Nothing else will stop it. It has to be by you. I know of a type of magic in another world that will make it possible." Lying, she added, "Despite what I've said, I had every intention of going to see you eventually."

The smug smile returned to Dirk's face. He recognized immediately that he now had something to use to manipulate and control her. "You have no idea how satisfying it is to hear you asking to bear my children. Ask me again!"

"Damn it, you know very well how I feel about this! I have no choice! Stop gloating! I will agree to what you want only if you will help me with what I want."

"Tell me what changed your mind. I recall something about promises of daggers and ovaries," he teased.

"If I give Zyr what he wants, he will destroy Azriok for me. And he'll leave me alone then. I will be free of both of them forever," she prevaricated. "So I will give you victory over your continent, your crown and an heir, and eventually disappear from your world, never to be seen again. I will give Zyr his prophecy. And I get my freedom."

"And once Azriok is slain, the Edict falls away. Correct?"

"There is always that."

"It seems our interests are rather closely aligned," he smiled. "Of course I will give you what you want - after I am king, and rule all of Aparans. That would be a fitting time for you to produce a son."

Zyrdicia pressed her lips together, fighting the urge to sneer at the annoying domestic role he planned for her. It would never come to pass. Of that she was quite sure. To get what she wanted from him though, she would agree to whatever he wanted - even playing house in Aparans. "We can argue about timing another time. After I kill Baal."

"I want this done very soon."

"You'll need time to make sure your whole kingdom knows. The political impact is the point, isn't it? Once we get out of here, I'll need three or four days to deal with Baal. Astaroth won't bother you once he knows what we've planned."

"Then I will announce it publicly in one week. I don't care what it costs you, but I want you with me then. Do you understand?"

"I'll be there. When I'm done on the Astral Plane, I will come straight to Karteia. I promise. I will send Portia and Anthony back with you, if you want. You know I wouldn't abandon them in a distant world."

"If you don't return to me in a timely manner, I will kill both of them."

"I'll be there. You can't possibly know how important it is to me that this succeed," she said.

They kissed again, sealing a pact that wrapped up the fate of Aparans, Hell and magic itself.