23.9

Zyrdicia returned to her temple in Geshna. She planned to meet Tristan there at midnight, but she arrived a few minutes early hoping to find worshippers to interact with. To her disappointment, the temple was empty. Almost.

She sniffed the air, her eyes scanning the shadows just beyond the purple light of the pit of magical hellfire by the altar. Even in the semi-darkness, she could plainly make out the form of the intruder concealing himself there.

Her heart raced in anticipation and her stomach felt like it dropped two stories. She was not emotionally prepared for this confrontation yet. Her hands balled into tight fists.

"Do you want to die today?" she called softly, her voice laced with lethal intensity.

Dirk stepped forward into the violet light, moving with uncharacteristic slowness. "Hi," he offered cautiously. "My dear, we need to talk."

"There will be no more talking," she snarled, feeling a deadly rage beginning to boil inside her veins. "But killing is an acceptable alternative."

"Zyrdicia, I did not come here to fight with you," he said, his voice betraying his uneasiness. He smiled, trying to exude charm, and added, "You've taken the things I said to you during your last visit far too seriously. Surely you know that I wasn't sincere when I said I didn't care for you---"

"--No more words from you!" she yelled, her rage manifesting itself in a powerful telekinetic wave of force. The magic slammed against him, knocking him against a wall with a thud. The telepathic blow was followed by one from her fist as it met his jaw.

Annoyed that he had failed to block the blow, he said impatiently, "Now that you have that out of your system, let us discuss-"

Once again, he was unable to finish his sentence. This time, her magic simply sucked all of the air out of his lungs.

Mad with fury, Zyrdicia turned away from him and paced back and forth in front of the altar, whispering to herself. "I have to kill him. I want to rip his heart out and suck every drop of blood from it while he watches and twitches in his death throws. But if I kill him now, he'll escape the eternity of torment that Azriok promised. I won't get to see him lose his war, his kingdom and his castle. I won't get to see him suffer."

"You think I haven't suffered?!" Dirk interrupted telepathically in her head. Behind her, he gasped for air.

She glanced at him, surprised by the interruption. She said, "You don't even know what suffering is yet. But you will. You will suffer more than any mortal in history by the time I'm through with you."

She noted then that he was about to pass out from the magical asphyxiation. "Oh, no you don't!" she scowled, releasing the magic. She slapped him hard with a leather-covered hand. "Don't you dare try to escape to unconsciousness. That's so fucking rude!"

Desperate to get through to her before it was too late, he gasped, "I lied when I said I-"

She slapped him again before he could finish the sentence. "I know you lied. You made that abundantly clear already. Now stop talking!"

"Listen! I'm sorry that I said that I--"

Another burst of the magic sucked the air out of his lungs once more, silencing him.

Zyrdicia stared at him wickedly for a moment. She heard the rapid thump of his heart racing in his chest. She smiled mirthlessly at the sound. She took control of its beat, driving it faster and faster.

She growled, "Should you fail to recognize it, that organ you feel pounding painfully in your chest is your heart. You cannot possibly imagine how much I want that part of you to hurt."

Mortal fear registered in Dirk's eyes then. She was doing to him just what she had done to Count Blathmoor the night of their engagement.

She released him just before his heart gave out. He fell upon all fours then, gasping for air. She watched him, unimpressed. "You are so fucking weak that I have to hold back even the minor magic to keep you from dying too quickly. I should have known you could never live up to Azriok. I need a god, not half-evolved flesh vermin."

"Zyrdicia-"

"Can you imagine what it will be like for you when I let loose with the major magic that I can't even control?"

"Stop!" he said warily, struggling to his feet. He knew he was as good as dead if she continued toying with him. Using the monocle against her would only hasten his demise. He glanced up, hoping eye contact might rekindle some memory in her of what they had once shared. Her expression made his blood run cold.

She had returned to pacing and talking to herself. Her face was full of fury, but in the depths of her purple eyes lurked something darker. Hell had taken up residence.

As she paced, she wrung her hands and reverted to referring to him in the third person. She muttered, "Damn it! I could kill Azriok as many times as I pleased, but this one can die but once. Mortals are so fucking inconvenient that way. Even a cat has nine lives. But him I can kill him only one time. It's so unfair! Fire, metal, magic - but which one? One. Only one . . ." Unable to decide, she let out a little cry of distress not unlike a spoiled child might make.

Dirk sensed the madness that had long hovered at the fringes of her psyche had finally taken over. Whatever hurt she had suffered from him had been enough to cause her to release her fragile hold on it. He was not surprised that she hated him, of course. But he had thought that if she heard him say he had not meant those awful words, she would come back to him. And now he might very well perish for the miscalculation.

"Kill me then, if that's your plan," he whispered, hoping a feigned surrender might change her demeanor. "I've contemplated that very end myself recently."

She stared out him, outraged. She was certain that he was goading her. He knew perfectly well that she was trapped in the world of the living forever by an immortality she loathed. She hissed, "You dare to taunt me with your mortal capacity to escape existence?"

She sent another burst of magical force to slam against him. She said angrily, "You are trying to make me kill you quickly now. But it isn't going to work. I will drag this out through eternity. Azriok is right about that. Killing you quickly would just let you escape."

She sent him back to Castle Blackpool with magic, deliberately causing him to appear ten feet above the floor in his study then letting him crash onto the desk.

Fire, metal, magic, blood - she would find a way to enjoy all of them. He would suffer through them all forever while she dreamt up new ways to torment him.

23.9.1

Zyrdicia sat alone in a corner of the temple for a long time. She curled her body into a little ball as the rage receded and the hurt slowly seeped back in to fill the void. He was not supposed to come to her. Taunting her as he did like this made it all so much more difficult to bear. If he came again, she would have to lock him up somewhere in nether space to prevent him from prodding her to kill him prematurely.

"Zyrdicia, are you here?" Tristan Ildewynd's voice called uncertainly from the temple's entrance. His eyes widened when he spotted her on the floor. "Are you unwell?"

"I'm splendid," she answered flatly.

He offered her a hand to stand up. She accepted it this time, grateful for the warmth of even the smallest touch.

"You look like something terrible just happened!" he noted, squeezing her fingers gently. She put her arms around him then, expecting a hug. He complied awkwardly, surprised by the show of affection.

"Tell me," he prodded.

"Dirk was just here. I didn't think I could hate him more than I did yesterday. But I do."

"I'm so sorry he's pestering you. Perhaps if we locked him in the dungeon of Castle Blackpool?" Tristan suggested helpfully.

Zyrdicia pulled away from the hug. "I plan to do much worse than that," she said.

Hoping to distract her, he offered, "Come, let's walk. There's something that I want to show you."

She let him guide her out into the dark street. He led her in along an undefined, meandering route, toward the foothills.

He chatted, "The whole city is celebrating your actions last night. A mob beat four of the king's soldiers to death this morning, to punish them for entering the city limits. They had apparently been sent by the king to capture me," he said, smiling as he mentioned the failed plot. "It seems he is jealous that we were seen together last night."

"He couldn't care less about that. He's just pissed that we are breaking his little kingdom apart. That's why he was here now. I'm sure of it."

"You'll be pleased to know that there is talk among the merchants of refusing to supply Castle Blackpool with food from the trade gates. The populace will follow your every word now. They want a theocracy with you as goddess-queen. You can depose him anytime you'd like."

"At least Dirk isn't as delighted by it all as the populace is."

Tristan glanced at her slyly and asked, "The king will surely be afraid to strike the city after the carnage you caused in the temple a couple of weeks ago."

Zyrdicia stopped dead in her tracks and stared coldly at the man. She tried to read his expression to discern how much he knew. She wished she could read his thoughts.

"I saw the whole thing that night." He winked mischievously and added, "I'm very good at hiding my presence."

"You are very lucky to still be alive. And that luck may be near its end."

"I was also very lucky to have seen you in action. You were fascinating to watch. I'm sure Azriok is very proud of you."

She stared hard at him, speechless.

Tristan's eyes twinkled. He carefully pulled off one glove, then turned over his bared wrist. On the forearm, his skin bore the tattooed image of three small black triangles, each with a red line cutting diagonally through it.

Zyrdicia frowned, recognizing the mark as one of the most ancient identifiers of Azriok's human servants. Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Fuck! And I didn't even sense a magical signature from you."

"I don't have one. I know nothing of the dark arts. My only duty is as a messenger, to deliver the key."

"And I suppose you know the location of a shrine with a Hell Window nearby?"

He nodded again and smiled. "Don't be angry. If I had told you that I serve Azriok when we first met at your wedding, what would you have done?"

"Killed you."

"And so you see why I waited until the circumstances were more advantageous."

Zyrdicia shook her head silently. She remembered all too well how many times Azros, Azriok's last High Priest in Lyr, had saved her life. In the old days, he had a sixth sense for rescuing her from danger.

Tristan said, "I'm here to help you, not to get in your way or annoy you. I promise."