Demon Lord 6: Garnet Tongue Goddess (37 page)

Your turn,
my dragon said.

I reached over my head, rocked, and managed to grab both chains that were anchored in my back.  Switching back and forth, from hand to hand, I pulled myself higher, then spun so I hung inverted, looking down at the cold gray floor.  I jerked in place, bouncing midair like a vibrating spider. 

I sang to myself.  “The itsy-bitsy spider … climbed up the meat hook chain…”

The weight of the chains and my aerial maneuvers pulled the hooks from my back.  I’d freed myself, a necessary first step toward the vengeance to come.

I straightened, hanging from my hands, also a childhood memory.  I kicked, swinging, and reached forward for a new chain, snagged it, swung again, playing Tarzan.  Chains smacked my face and arms.  They rattled and danced as I moved closer to the door.

I was almost there when the door opened again.

1

THIRTY-SEVEN

“My turn!”

                                                 —
Caine Deathwalker

The yellow-gray light wasn’t strong enough to blind even after the cold room’s darkness.  I had no problem seeing the nagi maiden entering, and she had no problem seeing me.  But she was used to seeing bodies in the chains, and this wasn’t the same nagi as before who knew where I was supposed to be hanging.  Her gaze passed over me, and she studied the many swaying chains I’d set in motion.  Her brow furrowed in puzzlement.

I pooled golden magic under the tattoo that bonded me to my armory.  I’d used the link across worlds before, arming myself in Fairy.  Without my soul being poisoned, I had every reason to think I could pull something to me in this pocket of altered space.  It was worth a try anyway.

I let one hand take my full weight, which eased me sideways as I freed the other hand.  I tried to do this smoothly, slowly, but I drew the nagi’s attention.  She turned back to me, still holding a baby goat in her arms. I couldn’t risk the noise of a shot, so I summoned a straight katana.  I held the wrapped hilt the way you’d hold a knife you were stabbing downward with.  And that’s how I stabbed.  The blade materialized over her head, pointing down at her heart with longing.  I shoved it into her chest with my half-dragon strength.  Her heart was pierced.  And probably several other useful organs.  She became the sheath for my blade, her eyes wide with sudden horror and pain.

Yeah, here’s your fuckin’ pain back.  I really like to share.

The baby goat dropped from her hands, recovered, and ran out of the cold room. 

Good luck, little buddy.

The nagi died with a gurgle in her throat and a last sigh of breath, sliding off my blade to the floor.  Her twitching tail continued to block the door so it couldn’t close.  I relaxed the grip of the hand holding me up and slid down the chain to the floor, joining her. 

Snakes can bite you an hour or two after death.  Their heads are dangerous even in death.  I kicked her head, turning it away from me as I pulled off the silk she’d worn over her breasts.  Using cut strips of silk braided into rope, I tied the katana hilt to my knee so the blade acted as a prosthetic and a weapon.

Pulling myself upward with a black, gummy chain, I let my good leg take my weight, and experimented, testing the katana.  I fell down a few times and spent several minutes finding a way to move that was better than crawling, and hoped I’d adjust a lot better as I went.

I carefully pulled at the nagi and with a hell of an effort, dragged her all the way inside and left her on a hook of her own. 

Making my way to the door, I was coated in sweat.  I peered out.  There was a kitchen decorated with hanging baskets of moss for light.  It was silent and abandoned.  Not even dishes to wash.  The place was tidy, leading me to believe we were between meals, possibly even done for the day.  The goat had headed off for parts unknown.

If this place had entered a sleep cycle, I had a good chance of escaping.  Of course;
Where I’ll go?  How I’ll get home...
  These question I couldn’t yet answer. 
Maybe I’ll never answer them.  Maybe I’ll rot here forever.
 
Can even the Red Lady find me in this little piece of naga heaven?  Do I want her to?

Selene was a goddess in her own right, sorta, the self-made variety, hyper-evolved poké-dragon and all.  I didn’t know if Selene could beat this Padma.   Even Selene could die here.  I shuddered imagining her hung on a chain like a certain nagi I’d just left.

I gave myself a mental shake. 
You’re a demon lord, a fey lord, slayer-spawn, and a fucking royal dragon.

Damn straight
, my inner dragon said.

I continued my rant:
You are destined to one day rule all time and space, a legendary conqueror.  Time to get mean and show the fucking goddess bitch what you can do.

Theoretically, goddesses don’t get into many scraps.  They lack experience and skill because they’re used to bludgeoning through every situation with raw power. 

Don’t forget that boy toy of hers
, my dragon-self reminded me. 
Take him down first, if possible.

“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked.

My back had stopped hurting, an absence of pain that had crept up on me.  I flexed extra muscles.  The scaled-down dragon wings worked.  They were no longer crumpled, splintered, bloody, and ripped.

“You fixed them.”

You need the speed, and this way, you’ll be harder to hit.

“Great.”  I let raw magic swirl under my skin, a golden flame connecting all my tattoos, warming them.  Even the Kiss-Your-Ass-Goodbye tattoo.  I’d win or no one would.  I finished up by pulling a Storm PX4 out of the ether, into my left hand.  Into my right, I summoned my long absent demon sword.

It materialized, a bar of blackness with a red demonic aura.  Its malevolent intelligence touched my own.  It sobbed. 
I’m sorry-sorry-sorry!  Don’t put me back there.  I’m starving!  What can we kill?

“You will kill what I tell you to, no matter if it kills
you
, understand.”

Yes, Master.  I live to serve, and kill, and eat—all as you command.

The sword had failed me, betraying me in the middle of a duel with a shadow fey queen.  He’d thought of himself and his survival, and had almost gotten me killed.

“If I have to put you back in that dead dimension,” I warned, “it will be forever.  Every hell-dimension, every reality, will die and collapse into primal rebirth before you ever go free again.  You will be very hungry by then.”

You have my word, a binding promise.  I will not fail you.

“I’m about to put you to the test in what may be our ultimate battle.”

The black blade didn’t immediately answer, but its red energy brightened, pulsing in time to my heart. 
Let’s rock!

I pulled shadow magic into my damaged knee, and let the power flutter around the katana blade I leaned upon.  “Let’s rock indeed.”

I felt the thread of destiny through all recent events.  This wasn’t about a haunted school and a TV show, or about ghosts, snakes, revenants, or poisoned cock.  All those things had brought me to a turning point, where I’d face down a goddess, level up, and prove to all unseen powers in the cosmos that I was worthy to join them.  My future empire grew from this point in time.  My past was prologue, and those pages had turned.

And then Kaliya walked into the kitchen like a gift from heaven.  Either he was hungry, or he had business with me.  Either way, he didn’t expect to see me up and around—and armed for battle.  His eyes widened.  He stopped on a metaphorical dime, then seized his sheath, scraping out his scimitar.  A smile twitched his lips.

He said, “Escaping?  I don’t think so.”

“Midnight snack?”  I made like Edgar Allen Poe’s raven.  “Never more.”

And then we were lunging toward one another.  I swung first, bringing my demon sword down in a diagonal slash.  As I expected, he swung his sword up to block.  My sword laughed, its voice pealing in my head.  The black blade sliced through the scimitar like it was papier-mâché.  I cut his sword in half and my blade went down across his chest.  And his chest really was ebony.  Blood didn’t spurt out.  This guy was some kind of homunculus, the snake-goddess’ version of Pinocchio.   Chopping him felt like a normal sword cutting through soft metal.

But all I needed was to touch him with the demon blade, letting its red aura wash into him.  He staggered back, choking on terror as his yellow-green soul was torn out of his body, draining into my sword. 

Hmmmm.  Good,
my sword said.

The stolen soul continued to scream, one of many voices forever trapped in the black sword.  I staggered a step, regaining my balance as the sword shared fresh energy, letting a share of its power backwash into me.  The demonic sword made me a second-hand vampire.  Another edge I’d soon need.

“There are more to kill.  I hope you’re up to it.”

More, more, more…

I jumped and fluttered wings, shooting over the dead homunculus.  I banked to turn the corner he’d come around.  A ramp forced me upward.  I found myself on the backside of the larger dais with the nagi women nestled in their cushions, under seas of brightly hued silk.  They slept.  Their tits rose in unison, their breathing synchronized.

Weird
, my inner dragon said.

“Weird dimension,” I muttered.

I beat my wings in the gloom, banking toward the smaller dais with the lotus throne.  The throne was empty.  The goddess was gone.  I wondered if she’d retreated to private chambers, or had left the ziggurat.  Maybe if I killed everyone here, she’d come running back.

Good plan
, my sword said.

Hell, yeah
, my dragon-self agreed.

Fuck ‘em all
, my cock said.

That last one wasn’t quite with the program but I liked the enthusiasm.

I continued the banking curve, gliding toward the women’s dais again.  Back-winging, I hovered a dozen feet above the sleepers, taking aim with my PX4 Storm.  I locked onto one head and squeezed off two shots, moving to the next target, then the next...  Muzzle flashes strobed the gloom. Hot brass casings flipped from my gun and tumbled to the ground.  With the first few shots, the woman were jolted awake.  They screamed, they died, and struggled up from their bedding, balancing on their tails.  The head-shot nagi were up too, swaying, bleeding, and looking like nagi zombies.

Something strange is going on.  The other two I killed away from here died and stayed that way.  How are these different?

Those I’d shot were shaking it off, healing their cratered faces.  Seeking me out, they hissed in fury and bared fangs.  They rose higher.  And higher.  And then I saw all their tails were joined into a common body that went down underneath the dais.  More of that body appeared and I found myself facing a nagi hydra. 

Okay, I can’t take the nagi heads; I have to take each nagi off a hydra neck.  Or maybe kill the common body.

I let go of my Storm PX4.  It vanished, returning to my armory for reloading.  Winging among the women, I slashed with the demon sword, and kicked with the katana on my leg.  The nagi reflexively put up their arms.  As a defense, it sucked.  I chopped the arms off.  Blood spurted.  Limbs spun to the ground.

Crocodiles were wandering over, helping themselves to the tasty morsels.  Gaging on the acid blood, rolling belly-up in death.  Oh, well…

Going at their waists, I managed to sever two of the women from their hydra necks.  The necks spurted a kind of black blood that splattered the cushions and silks, burning them, thickening the air with acrid fumes.

A thrill coursed through me when I saw the hydra necks didn’t grow anything back.  Encouraged, I continued to dodge and flutter, slashing with the demon sword. 

I’m not getting anything
, the sword complained.

The nagi women don’t have souls
, my dragon observed. 
It’s the hydra down there that has that quality
.

As the last nagi woman was severed at her trunk, falling away, I dropped to the floor and used my foot katana to stab a crocodile in the throat.  It backed off and flopped away, discouraged.  Other crocodiles chomped on the dead crocs, and started eating their own.

You guys owe me
, I thought.

I stood on the dais near where the hydra’s trunk emerged.  Using my dragon hearing, I located its true heart.  I leaped and stabbed with the demon sword.  The blade went in to the hilt.  The red aura seared the scaled skin.  The glow grew ever brighter. 

The sword screamed in ecstasy.  
So.  Much.  Power!

The hydra trunk thrashed wildly.  I let go of the sword, leaving it to feed, and climbed higher, darting toward the very high ceiling.  Hovering, the light went from red to pink, then pink with a white core.  A nebulous haze of plasma roiled below, consuming the hydra.  It burned to ash in a slow erosion fed by its own death.  The hydra had held at least seven demi-souls.  The hydra’s body might have held an eighth. 

All that immortal lifeforce was a hell of a lot to hold onto, but the sword was determined.  I’d starved it in a dead universe of endless darkness and sub-zero cold.  I’d left it there for months, threatening never to come back.  I’d taught it hunger and desperation.  And most of all, fear of dissolution.  This might be too much power to handle, but the damaged soul of the sword was going to try.

Strands of spider silk drew my attention to the ceiling.  Ragged blotches of the stuff dangled close overhead.  And in those light-washed sheets, albino long-legs walked over one another, running here and there.  These weren’t as monstrously huge as the one I’d seen atop the ziggurat outside, but they were bigger than me, and venomous.