now the horror stepped forward, opening its taloned hands in welcome, dipping its tusked head almost in embarrassment that Timozel should find its form displeasing, spreading its wings behind it in unconscious imitation of the Icarii manner of abasement, and almost swallowing its over-large tongue in an effort to twist its mouth in as close an imitation of a smile as it could get.
Timozel came close to fainting, and actually swayed slightly on his feet, but Friend grasped his elbow. “Steady, steady,” he whispered. “Take courage. Think of this as a test. Do you have the courage to do what is needed to win both Achar and Faraday their freedom?”
“Yes,” Timozel muttered. “Yes, I have the courage,” and he straightened his back and squared his shoulders. “I have the courage,” he said in a stronger voice.
“Timozel,” Gorgrael said, and Timozel jumped slightly at the power and strength in Gorgrael’s voice. He stared unflinching into the creature’s silver eyes.
“Timozel, are you my man?”
“Do you fight to destroy the Forbidden?”
Gorgrael almost snarled. Who was this stripling to question him? But he felt the Dark Man’s eyes on him, and he remembered their plan. “It is my name,” he said in as soft a voice as he could manage. “The Destroyer. I live to destroy the Forbidden, the hateful Icarii and Avar.”
“Will you free Achar?”
“I will drive the Forbidden from the land, yes.”
Gorgrael would free Achar. Timozel only heard what he wanted to hear. He cleared his throat and spoke in a slightly stronger voice. “Do you seek to destroy Axis?”
Now Gorgrael could not help a small hiss and he flexed his clawed hands. “I will shred him!”
Timozel smiled, and for the first time he seemed comfortable. “Good. Will you free Faraday?”
Gorgrael smiled with an equal degree of chill. Faraday. Axis’ Lover. The key to his destruction, and a woman Gorgrael had come to desire almost as much as he desired Axis’ death.
“Will you help me free her, Timozel? Will you help me rescue Faraday?”
“Yes, yes and yes thrice over, Great Lord,” he said. “You are all that Friend said you were.” He paused. “My soul is yours.”
Fool! Gorgrael thought. Your soul was mine from the moment Faraday broke your vows of Championship. But he ducked his head and simpered anyway. Time enough in the future for Timozel to realise exactly how deeply Gorgrael’s claws were hooked into his soul.
“Then let us cement the bargain,” Gorgrael whispered.
The Dark Man hurriedly stepped out of the way.
In the wink of an eye Gorgrael scurried the distance between himself and Timozel, his dreadful clawed hands and taloned wings extended. He was so quick that Timozel could not have moved, even had he wanted to.
All he had time for was a quick breath of surprise, a widening of the eyes, then Gorgrael was upon him.
With lightning-quick movements, Gorgrael shredded the clothes from Timozel’s upper body, then knifed razor sharp claws deep into Timozel’s chest.
Timozel opened his mouth to scream, but the pain was so great all that escaped his mouth was a harsh gurgle.
Gorgrael twisted his claws in deeper, then pulled Timozel next to him, their faces close in a frightful parody of a lover’s embrace.
Timozel’s eyes, open wide, were sightless with agony. His arms curled at his side, his hands crimped uselessly.
The Dark Man watched impassively. This had to be done, but he hoped that Gorgrael would be able to wield the enchantments so that Timozel would remember nothing of it afterwards. Damn it, Gorgrael is enjoying this. Pity poor Faraday when Gorgrael finally has the chance to get his talons into her.
His claws scraping through bone and flesh, whimpering with pleasure, Gorgrael finally let a bolt of power flood through Timozel’s body. If Timozel was to lead Gorgrael’s army against Axis, then the man needed a well of power like those Gorgrael had given the SkraeBolds. It would contain only the minutest fraction of the power that Gorgrael himself commanded, but it would be more, far more than the SkraeBolds enjoyed. Timozel needed to be able to control the SkraeBolds as well.
“Feel it!” Gorgrael hissed ecstatically, wriggling and pulling Timozel more firmly against his own body. “Feel it!”
Somewhere in a dark corner of his mind that wasn’t totally consumed by pain Timozel faintly heard Gorgrael’s words, and, even more faintly, could feel something warm and dark writhing in his belly. Feel it.
This darkness suddenly, unbelievably, flared into such firebarbed agony that Timozel finally found the breath to cry out. He arched his body, flung back his head and shrieked, and shrieked, and then shrieked once more.
“Yes!” Gorgrael groaned, then retracted his claws and let Timozel fall to the floor, dark blood streaming from the dreadful wounds in his chest.
Timozel drifted out of the blackness that had claimed him. He felt incredibly relaxed, and a feeling of such well-being flooded him that he tried to hold on to the blackness. He smiled, savouring the sensations. Not even Yr at her best had caused him to feel this satisfied, this replete.
The Dark Man caught Gorgrael’s eye and nodded. You have done better than I expected, my friend. You have excelled yourself. The man will do anything for you now. Anything.
Gorgrael reflectively rubbed one of his tusks with a claw. Good.
Timozel stretched his body, turned his head, smiled, and opened his eyes.
Friend and Gorgrael were seated in grotesquely malcarved chairs before a roaring fire. Both held crystal glasses of wine. Both were gazing benignly at him.
Timozel smiled at them. “What happened?”
“I have accepted you into my service,” Gorgrael said. “See?” He tapped his chest.
Timozel frowned, then realised that Gorgrael wanted him to look at his own chest. He raised himself onto his elbows, noting in some surprise that he only wore his breeches and boots.
On his chest was branded the outline of a clawed hand.
“My mark,” Gorgrael said.
“Then I am proud to wear it, Great Lord,” Timozel said boldly, and he rose to his feet. He had no memory of the assault that had put the mark there.
He felt incredibly well and powerful, and both Gorgrael and the Dark Man smiled at the expression of wonderment on Timozel’s face.
“Already you feel the benefit of my power, Timozel,” Gorgrael said, rising from his chair and moving to what Timozel, even in his sublime state, considered the ugliest sideboard he had ever seen. “Wine?”
Gorgrael held the decanter and shook it slightly in Timozel’s direction.
“Yes,”
