14.8

Zyrdicia awoke in Baal's arms a second time. She was naked, wrapped in the silken chill of the reclining angel's wings. She had no memory of what he had done to her. Her body's ache and the bite-marks covering her torso were her only clue.

She pushed it from her mind. There was no place for emotional weakness now. It would only encourage him. He wanted her to be upset, to feel violated. To him, it was no different than ripping the muscles off of her spine or forcing her to kill her friends. One form of torment had simply given way to another in his effort to destroy her will to resist.

Despite the indignity, her body felt much stronger after resting. There was not a part of her that did not hurt. Her skin was badly burned from the lightning. She was now covered in a patchwork of hundreds of cuts from his teeth. Vicious soreness in her upper back reminded her that the wound there had not yet fully healed. Still, she was alive. Enough time had passed for the magic to repair some the damage to her mortal frame, at least. She was grateful for the mental clarity and end to the semi-paralysis that had gripped her.

Baal watched her with a bored expression as she woke up. "Drop the bind-rune! We can spend eternity like this, you and I. I have no end of creativity for causing you misery."

Zyrdicia met his gaze and sighed unhappily, "Enough! You win."

"Do it now!" he commanded, his voice echoing through the darkness like another roll of thunder.

"I want to get dressed first. I really have no interest in being paraded through Hell like this."

"Mortal modesty," he chided. Zyrdicia glared at him as she pulled her leathers back on. It kept her from having to look at her ravaged body. She slipped her mail coat back on and fastened the latches, wincing as she moved her shoulders. She pulled on her boots and watched Baal move up from his reclining position, his wings fluttering. He stood very near her, threatening her with his proximity. Her heart raced in fear and anticipation.

"Now!" he prompted. He shrank back from her as an unfamiliar sword materialized in her hand. "You are the most irritating mortal ever spawned!" he snarled.

She rose up at him, blocking out awareness of anything but the kill. He invoked a magical fetter to disable her and put an end to her aggression. As she neared him, her sword poised to pierce his heart, something grabbed at her feet. An icy sensation slithered around her ankles, then up her legs. Her mind was too preoccupied with victory to care. Her arms lunged quickly, finishing the attack before his magic could take hold of the rest of her body.

"No!" Baal gasped, his face suddenly terrified. It was the last word he would utter outside of Tenaebra for nearly seven centuries. A hole in the cosmos opened up and sucked him through it, trapping him in his homeworld.

The icy sensation continued slithering up Zyrdicia's body, around her hips then her torso, pinning her arms against her sides. It then continued up her neck. "Fuck!" she exclaimed angrily. Now she knew why he looked terrified. Without him here to control it, the magical fetter would probably kill her. She was in a Hellcoil.

Every time she moved at all, it tightened a little around her. It started out as a simple immobilizing device. Each breath, each wriggle to get free, caused an incremental contraction. She tried to dispel it. It only grew tighter. It was now uncomfortable. Soon it would be painful. Eventually she knew bones would break, and it would crush her to death. She could not gate herself out with magic. The magic that prevented Baal's voluntary departure prevented her own as well. Taking down the magical wall created by the bind-rune required closing the circle - and movement. She could not call for help, for the bind-rune even insulated telepathic waves. She had succeeded in trapping him, and trapped herself as well.

Despite her growing panic, she forced herself to breathe as shallowly and infrequently as she possibly could. She was deathly still.

A short time later, several Howlers appeared. They sniffed around her, poking from the edge of the circle at the runes that still hung in the air, trying to disable the wall. She knew Azriok had sent them. He was trying to save her - and take her to Tenaebra. They were powerless against Baal's magic, as against her own. Unable to do anything more, the Howlers encircled her in a protective perimeter to prevent her from falling victim to passing predators. If she could succeed in freeing herself, and dropping the wall to escape, she would have the Howlers to deal with too. They were protecting her now, but they were only waiting for an opportunity to take her.

And so it remained. She lost track of time once she stopped feeling her body. The constant constrictive pressure numbed her. Hours passed, then days. She felt pain for the first time when the first rib cracked. A second, third and fourth soon followed. She tried not gasp or tense up as breathing became an exercise in agony. Fighting it would only accelerate the coil's crushing motion. Soon thereafter the bones in her pelvis and hips gave way. The Hellcoil promised a terribly slow, miserable, lingering death.

Eventually she lost consciousness, yet again. She realized distantly this time would probably be the last. This time, there could be no rescue.