Forged In Death, Book 1 of The Death Wizard Chronicles (37 page)

“
Raaga
,” she whispered, guiltily.

Laylah felt a strange but enchanting sensation between her legs. She touched herself with her hand and the pleasure intensified.

“
Raaga
,” she said again. “
Raaga. Raaga
!”

Afterward she lay panting in the bath, her face slathered with sweat. Her mother assumed she had come down with a fever, and she tucked Laylah into bed with a cold cloth on her forehead.

The next morning, Laylah said the word again. And then the following afternoon and evening. She said it every day, several times a day, several times a night. The sensation grew greater each time. But it took a severe toll on her prepubescent body. She lost her appetite and an excessive amount of weight. Dark circles formed under her eyes and her cheeks collapsed.

Her parents were convinced she was deathly ill. Shamans studied her but could find nothing wrong. She tried to tell them about the boy and his terrible powers. But no intelligible words came forth.

One shaman, who was filthy and stank, told Laylah’s parents that he needed to be alone with the child to properly diagnose her condition. Out of desperation, they agreed. When they closed the door the shaman leaned over Laylah and told her that evil spirits possessed her. If she kissed him, the spirits would flee from her mouth into his, where he would devour them.

Laylah saw through his guise. Without thinking, she whispered, “
Namuci
!”

The shaman fell to the floor, spit out a glob of blood, and died. Her parents rushed back into the room and found her in hysterics. The shaman’s death shocked the village, but no one thought to blame her.

For whatever reason the horror of what she had done strengthened Laylah’s resolve, and she was able to resist saying the
nasty
word. In a few weeks her health was restored—and with it, her good humor. Her parents seemed so pleased.

It all fell apart for her the morning after her tenth birthday, when Invictus crept through her window and entered her room. She tried to cry out but could not manage more than a few weak grunts. Still wearing his golden robes, he lay next to her on her bed, pressed his chest against her back and then placed his hand on her stomach. She hated being so close to him, but somehow his presence froze her to the bed. A short time later, her parents entered the room and found them together.

“What are you
doing
?” her father said. “Get away from my child!”

He attempted to pull the young man off Laylah, but Invictus was far too strong, swinging his arm and knocking the older man against the far wall. Her mother lifted a small wooden table and smashed it against Invictus’ shoulder, but it did not seem to hurt him at all.

He stood and faced her. “Mother, don’t you recognize me?” Invictus said.

“I recognize you, but I wish I didn’t,” she said. “Why have you returned to torment us?”

“I love you, mother. Do you love me?”And then he spit a sizzling ball of sputum at her brown eyes.

Laylah’s mother howled and pressed her hands to her face, staggering backward. When she removed her hands, most of the flesh on her skull was gone, though strands of long yellow hair still clung to the exposed bone.

Her father regained his senses, staggered to his feet, and pounced on Invictus, all the while yelling, “Laylah .
 . .
run
!”

“Father,” Invictus said. “I love you. Do you love me?”

Invictus pressed his lips against her father’s and blew hot breath down his throat. Her father collapsed and went into a wild spasm. Smoke exploded from his ears, nose, and mouth—and his tongue swelled absurdly. When he blew apart, flaming patches of tissue splattered across the room. This terrified Laylah and shook her out of whatever spell Invictus had put on her to keep her still. She sat up and screamed.

Though her mother was maimed and blinded, she continued to grope for Invictus. But she was no match for him. He grasped her disfigured face and kissed her too, and she met the same fate as her husband.

Afterward Invictus raised his arms and bellowed. Golden flames erupted from every pore. As if struck from within by dragon fire, the house exploded. Sizzling shards flew several hundred paces, casting Laylah into the yard like a piece of broken furniture. When the conflagration cleared, she saw Invictus standing naked amid the smoking debris, his robes incinerated but his body unharmed. Her parents were gone.

Laylah managed to stand. Amazingly she wasn’t injured, but her clothes had been incinerated and she was now naked. The commotion drew hundreds of villagers, who rushed toward her. But when they saw Invictus they also ran. Only one man hesitated, as if daring to issue a challenge. For him, it was a death sentence. Invictus blasted a bolt of golden flame, ripping off the man’s head.

Laylah could stand it no more. But at least she now had full use of her body. She ran .
 . . fast and far.

“Laylah! Come back. I love you.” Her brother’s voice shook the valley. “Laylah, do you lovvvvvveeeeeee me?”

She reached the Ogha River. The roar of its swirling waters drowned out her sobs. She felt her brother approaching from behind. She would rather die than have him touch her again.

Laylah cast herself into the Ogha. She could swim well, but she was used to the still water of lakes and ponds, not the nasty swells of the mightiest river in the world. The tumult swept her along, helpless as a leaf. Despite the dangers, she felt peaceful. Death by drowning was a small price to pay to escape such a monster.

But Laylah’s life would not end on this day. Something grasped her thin arm. She glided along the surface of the river on her back and was dragged onto the steep bank on the far side.

She could still hear Invictus’ desperate cries.

“Laylah, come back. I love you. Do you love me?”

Powerful arms lifted her and pressed her against wet skin that smelled like a wild animal. She screamed, struggling to free herself. Then a large hand clamped over her mouth, her nose, and everything went dark.

Jim Melvin was born in New York but spent most of his life in Florida. He now lives in the magical foothills of the Appalachians, where he wrote
The Death Wizard Chronicles
. Jim has one other published novel to his credit titled
Dream House: A Ghost Story
. He currently is working on Book 1 of a young adult fantasy series. Jim graduated from the University of South Florida in Tampa in 1978 and went on to become an award-winning journalist. He occasionally plays golf, but has never won any awards for that.