He groaned and his soul yearned for her.
A huge taloned hand smashed the stairwell door to shards.
‘Come quickly!’ yelled the woman.
‘No!’ shouted Chareos. He leapt forward and lanced his sword into the beast’s gaping mouth, up through the cartilage beyond and into the brain.
‘Help me!’ Chareos turned and saw a second creature had come from the staircase behind her and was hauling her back into the darkness.
‘Stand firm or we are all lost,’ came the voice of Okas in the halls of his memory.
He screamed in his anguish, but remained where he was. Two more creatures lunged at him; he sidestepped and killed the first with a thrust to the heart, the second with a slashing sweep that cut through its neck.
The sound of laughter came to him and he saw the woman locked in an embrace with the monster at the stairwell. Her face turned to Chareos – it was white as a shroud, the eyes staring, the pupils slitted like those of a cat. Slowly she lifted her leg, stroking it against the demon’s thigh.
‘You never were much of a man,’ she said. ‘Why do you think I needed so many lovers?”
He swung away from her, but her words continued to taunt him. ‘I slept with them all, Chareos. With Finn, with Beltzer. With all of your friends. I told them all what you were like. I told them how you cried on the first night we made love . . . they laughed at that.’
‘Leave me alone!’
Another beast came through the doorway but Chareos ducked under the sweep of its talons and slashed his sabre through its belly. It fell back into the darkness.
Her voice came closer, but the words were softer now. ‘I said that to hurt you,’ she whispered. ‘I am sorry . . . I am so sorry.’ Closer she came and Chareos moved back a step. Through all that I did,’ she continued, ‘all the terrible wrongs I did you, you never hurt me. You could never hurt me.’ Her arm-flashed up. Chareos’ sabre slashed through her throat and the head flopped to the floor, the body toppling beside it. The small, curved knife dropped from her fingers.
‘No,’ said Chareos, ‘I could never hurt Tura. But you were not Tura.’
*
Kiall hacked and slashed at the monsters around him. The fang-lined paws ripped at his skin and pain flooded him, yet still his sword lanced out to force them back. He slipped and fell and the demons loomed over him. Just then a warrior in black, armed with two short swords, leapt to stand over him, driving the monsters away. Kiall struggled to his feet and watched the warrior. The man’s skill was breathtaking; he spun and whirled like a dancer, yet at each move his glittering blades flickered out against the demons. The last beast died and the man walked to Kiall and smiled.
‘You fought well,’ said the man. Kiall looked into the slanted violet eyes and the hard cruel face.
‘Who are you?’ he asked.
‘I am a friend to Asta Khan.’
Darkness loomed before Kiall’s eyes and he blinked . . .
He was back before the fire in the cave. Okas and Asta were sitting together, Beltzer and Chareos standing guard over them.
‘Will they come again?’ enquired Beltzer.
‘I do not know,’ answered Okas wearily.
‘They will not,’ said Asta Khan, his dark eyes glittering. ‘Now it is time for my enemies to see my power.’ He closed his eyes . . . and vanished.
*
Three hundred miles away Shotza screamed. The first of twelve acolytes, deep in a trance, fell back with his chest ripped open, his heart exploding. Shotza tried to run from the room, but all the doors were barred by a mist that formed like steel. One by one his acolytes died silently, until only the shaman was left.
A figure formed in the mist and Shotza backed away. ‘Spare me, mighty Asia,’ he begged. ‘I was acting under orders from the Khan. Only spare me, and I will help you to destroy him.’
‘I do not need your help for that,’ said Asta, floating close to the trembling shaman. Asia’s spirit hand shot out, the fingers extending into long talons which slid into Shotza’s chest. A terrible pain clamped the shaman’s heart and he tried to cry out – but died before the scream could sound.