Reunion

The woman scrabbled back up the hay to put as much distance as possible between her and the burning hole which was pulling the man in. His panicked screams rose in pitch and volume as a barbed tentacle ensnared his manhood and yanked. By now, he was hip-deep in the hands, and they clawed at his clothing, which offered even more purchased than his bare legs. In a moment he was gone and the hole rumbled shut. Only the soft crunch of cooling stone was any indication that there had ever been a rift leading to some other place.

"Who are-" the woman began, only to be cut short. Fraternus knelt behind her, his long tail wound around her neck and his stinger pointing at her face. She tried to pry the choking appendage off her, but couldn't find any purchase.

"What in the Burning Pits are you doing?" Rhomar yelled.

"Just making sure she won't send the blasted clergy our way," Fraternus grunted, trying to keep the flailing woman under control. He hung on her back like a murderous, floppy doll, but she couldn't get him off her either.

"Stop it! I command you," Rhomar shouted.

"No can do boss. She's a loose end after all. And what a cute one..."

Rhomar had had enough. He chanted a single, clear note. Divine radiance exploded from his palm and washed over the imp. Fraternus howled in pain, wings, skin and tail smoking, as he dove off the woman.

"Did-did you just cast a Banishment on me?" the imp asked aghast, slapping at smoking patches of skin.

Rhomar said nothing. His eyes spoke volumes, two burning orbs fixed on the imp.

"Fine, fine. I'm sorry. Won't happen again, Fraternus conceded. Rhomar tossed his thumb over his shoulder. The imp shrugged and disappeared in a stinking puff of smoke.

The woman stared at Rhomar.

"Did you try to save or kill me back then?" she snapped, pulling her torn clothing around herself. Her neck sported two ugly purple lines where the imp had choked her with inhuman force.

"I am deeply sorry. My familiar tends to get a bit zealous sometimes," Rhomar said, bowing his head in apology. "So, I did save you. Twice."

The woman opened her mouth, probably to hurl insults his way, then her gaze swept downwards, to the clearly visible circle of cooling earth right in front of the hay, and she thought better of it.

"Thank you. Whoever you are."

Rhomar turned and left, leaving the woman behind. This was taking too long already. In passing, he picked up the bowl from the hay bale and exited the inn's courtyard.

Robes flapping, he strode through the busy streets of Roarfell. People pushed carts with rocks and ingots around, peddlers sold food, clothing and tools. Amidst the workers and the traders though, Rhomar caught darker things. Pickpockets plied their trade, cultists droned their messages of the day into the passing throng, some benign but most appealing to the base nature of man, offering violence or sexual gratification for only a little fealty to this entity or that.

"Hey, you," someone murmured at him. Rhomar stopped and looked around. His gaze drifted over the marketplace, where a town crier was announcing something. A moment later, he heard the creaking of wood and the cheers of the crowd. Then he saw the gallows, a twenty-foot beam with nine nooses, each and every one occupied. The convicted flailed their legs as the nooses drew shut.

"Riveting, eh?" the voice purred again. Rhomar turned to face the speaker. A black-clad elf stood next to him in an archway, expensive jewelry hanging off his ears and eyebrows. Behind him, a large wagon loomed in the alley.

"What do you want?" Rhomar asked, fixing him with a dark stare.

The elf favored him with a knowing smile. "It's not what I want, it's what you'll want." He stepped aside and Rhomar looked at an elven girl, no older than ten or twelve. She stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. A thin golden chain ran from her neck to the elf's wrist.

"Ain't she a beauty? Never been fu-"

Rhomar's claw-like hand shot out and grabbed the elf by the throat. "You can count yourself lucky that I am too busy to deal with you personally," he hissed, easily keeping the struggling pimp at bay. "Let's just say my master is always on the lookout for new souls to torment, and you would be a prime candidate for a thousand years of ass rape."

Rhomar snarled a quick incantation and a cluster of burning coals appeared in his free hand. His demonic ancestry made him impervious to something as trivial as heated rocks, and he relished the look of panic on the pimp's face as his glove sizzled and crackled in the heat.

He loosened his grip and the pimp staggered back a step, gulping air into his lungs. Rhomar stepped into him and yanked his collar away from his neck, dumping the burning coals down the elf's shirt. A bit of glinting metal caught his eye. The elf wore a slim gold chain around his neck, a key dangling from it. Rhomar snatched the key as the elf crashed to the cobbles, not caring that the thin chain carved a bloody furrow into the pimp's neck. He tossed the key towards the girl, then he turned and left the alley. The elf girl picked up the key and ran to unlock the wagon before the pimp could recover. The last thing she saw of her saviour was a dark shadow disappearing amidst the crowds.

* * * *

Meruru moaned around the cock in her mouth as the one in her ass shot hot spurts of cum deep into her bowels. Her tongue swirled around the tip, bringing that one over the edge as well. Her hand was busy extending her own climax by rubbing her most sensitive spot as she greedily sucked her apprentice dry.

So far they were none the wiser, thinking that particular servant at last gave in to their offers of "education". It was hard to find gifted apprentices these days. They all paled in comparison to Rhomar. That one was special. He would have recognized her within moments, even in this fresh body. His revulsion was nectar to her back then, even as he hurled her across the room when she tried to seduce him in his sister's shell. Thinking about him made her hornier than she'd been in ages.

She heard murmuring and opened her eyes. Both apprentices were chanting and caressing their spent dicks. Meruru knew that spell. After all, she had invented it. By manipulating blood flow, a skilled warlock could cause his dick to keep straight even after ejaculation, and it seemed her apprentices had "found" the book she had planted in their common room. Smiling, she rolled onto her back and spread her legs, ready for another bout.

Suddenly a brazier in the room flared, the flame tongue whipping the beams holding the ceiling. A moment later, the fire died down and a naked imp sat in the bowl. He cast his eyes around until he saw Meruru.

"Mistress! So glad to see you!" Fraternus called, hopping out of the brazier.

Meruru smiled wickedly as she saw her apprentices exchange panicked looks.

"Surprised, boys?" she asked, caressing herself. It was the first time she had spoken to them, and her inflection revealed the body's true occupant. The apprentices bolted, faces flaring red. Sighing, Meruru pushed herself onto one elbow and beckoned Fraternus to come closer. The imp flashed her a wide grin and hopped onto the mattress.

"What are you doing here?" Meruru asked, wrapping two fingers around his tiny member.

"Well... I was in the vicinity and..." Fraternus stopped as Meruru looked at him, eyes twinkling.

"Are you still with Rhomar? Or did he finally join our masters in Hell?

"Geez, mistress, you're making it awfully hard..." Fraternus huffed.

"Since you scared off my 'prentices, I need a substitute cock. And I don't want to call a Hellspawn just yet. Do you mind?" Meruru held out her wrist.

"Everything for you, mistress" Fraternus said with a bow, then he took her wrist in both his hands and bit down, tearing a long, bloody gash into it. Meruru dipped her finger into the wound and smeared a few lines onto Fraternus' torso, arms, legs and cock. Then she spat a few harsh syllables.

"I hate it when you do that," Fraternus hissed. His body began to warp and grow. The sounds of reforming flesh and bone were disgusting, mixed in with Fraternus' whimpers of pain, but a few moments after Meruru had started the spell, Fraternus had grown into a six-foot slab of a demon, wide shoulders, long arms with wicked claws and a dick to match. Only his wings were as small as before, useless bits of leather flapping on his back.

"Now, come to your mistress," Meruru purred, leaning back and looking into his red eyes. She spread her legs for him. "Or better yet, come in your mistress. And then you'll tell me why you're here."

* * * *

Rhomar had to ask a beggar on Minecart Road where Shaldyn's shop was. No sign pointed the way, no obvious shop window either. The old crone, after pocketing two of his gold coins, guided him to a nondescript door and left Rhomar wondering how his familiar had found this shop in the first place. He pushed the door open and entered a dingy room that smelled of metal, earth and stone. A single oil lamp offered meager illumination.

"Welcome to Shaldyn's Emporium of Exotic Excavations!" A thin man, hair slicked back over his scalp, rose from behind a counter. Several gold teeth twinkled in the light of the lamp as he beamed at Rhomar. The warlock gazed around. On shelves and tables, he spotted large, glowing crystals and shiny metal ingots.

"So, you're selling fancy rocks," Rhomar said.

"You hurt my salesman's pride," Shaldyn shot back. "I offer the curious, the hard-to-find, the mysterious and-"

"Do you have disjunction stones?" the warlock interrupted. Shaldyn blinked, not used to such rudeness.

"Stones? How many would you need? One is plenty to ruin any magician's day."

"At least five. Four is the absolute minimum."

"You have come to the right place. I have enough disjunction stones to make the Mages' Guild of Storm Harbour weep in frustration. Provided you have ample coin. These things don't come-"

Rhomar crossed the room in two quick steps and placed a large bag of coins on the counter. He could see Shaldyn's eyes widen as he tried to estimate the bag's contents.

"These are one thousand gold, minted in Storm Harbour," Rhomar explained. "Just to make sure you have what I need. There are another thousand in it for you if can can provide me with the stones now. For each day I have to wait, it will be a hundred gold less."

"No worries, no worries. I have what you need, good man." Shaldyn said. "If you could wait just a moment?"

"Make it quick, I don't have all day," Rhomar growled.

Shaldyn ducked into another room and Rhomar could hear him mumbling to himself as he sorted through what sounded like wooden drawers. A few moments later, Shaldyn appeared again, holding a small tray in front of him. On red velvet, five dull grey pebbles were laid out. They were not much larger than a marble each and appeared smooth and silky on the outside.

"Here you go. Five disjunction stones. Excuse me for asking, but what do you need them for? I mean, with their magic-eating ability and-"

"None of your business. Does your blacksmith ask what you need his horseshoes for?" Rhomar pulled a pair of pliers from a pouch on his belt. He then produced a gold coin, tossed it on the counter and hissed a few syllables. The coin burst into flame, scorching the wood.

"Hey-" Shaldyn complained. Rhomar shushed him with a snarl and picked up one of the stones with the pliers.

If they really were disjunction stones and not just a fake, they would drain any and all magic they came in contact with. His plan to kill Meruru did not involve any spellcasting, but the way to her tower would, so he couldn't take any risk of draining himself by accident. Rhomar dropped the stone onto the coin and the fire vanished. He repeated that four more times, each time with another stone. They all worked the same way.

"Good job," the warlock said, pulling another sack of coins from his pack.

"Come on. Just a hint. What are you tryin' to do?" Shaldyn prodded.

"I told you, none of your business. You're better off not knowing," Rhomar said. He used the pliers to drop the stones into a small leather bag which he stuffed into his robes.

"You're going to mess up a mage, that's for sure," Shaldyn said, grinning. "I don't want to be your enemy, really."

"Then you should stop asking questions," the warlock cautioned him.

"But I wonder what kind of mage requires five stones when it takes just one-"

Rhomar reached across the counter and pulled Shaldyn's face close to his. "For the last time, stop bugging me. And if you have to know. Her name is Meruru. Ever heard of her?"

"The Witch of the Black Tower? She's kinda notorious 'round here. And you're gonna try to off her? No offence, but you look like one of her 'prentices to me."

"I was, once." Rhomar caught Shaldyn's triumphant grin, then sighed in defeat. "Fine, I'll tell you. If you promise to quit pestering me."

"Sure," Shaldyn said, sitting down again.

"In fact, both my twin sister and I were Meruru's apprentices. One of my ancestors sired a child with a demon, and the tainted blood had been passed down through our family ever since.

"Our childhood was normal enough, considering many of our relatives were involved with the arcane arts, but Serena and I seemed rather normal. We spent our days playing in the fields and forests, pretending to be great adventurers on the hunt for lost treasures and foul beasts. But when Serena became a woman, things happened we couldn't explain.

"The grass underneath our naked feet began to wilt, animals became frightened or aggressive when we drew near, and worst of all, food we touched spoiled in mere moments. We had no idea what was happening, and tried to hide the strange omens from our parents. We were scared to think what they would do to us if they found out, that their children had turned into harbingers of ill omens.

Of course our parents did know. One day, a black-robed man appeared at our house, proclaiming us wards of the Order. He gave our parents a sack filled with only gods know what and hauled us off. After a few days of travelling, we finally arrived at Meruru's tower and she took us in, teaching us about the corruption in our body, how to live with it and how best to use it to our own ends."

"Doesn't sound too bad so far. I wouldn't know what to do if my child suddenly showed demon powers," Shaldyn said. "But- no food?"

Rhomar raised his arm above the counter and showed Shaldyn his gloved hand. The fingertips were cut off to allow for his black, claw-like fingernails. "They help somewhat, but one learns to eat little, and fast. Anyway, Meruru taught us well, until the day her body failed her."

"Um... didn't you say you wanted to kill her? How's that- Oh. She's undead?"

"No. Quit interrupting me. Meruru knows of a way to extend her own lifespan, by possessing other bodies. When her old one failed, she took over my sister."

"Can't you like... send her back into that old body of hers?"

"I wish I could. But the old bodies disintegrate the moment Meruru leaves them. Those bodies not tainted by demonic blood can't take the strain of warlock magic and age much faster than normal, until they are utterly burnt out and held together only by Meruru's willpower. And there can be only one soul inhabiting a body, so by the time I knew what she had done, Serena was long gone. There was nothing I could do," Rhomar said, balling his fists.

"Man, that's rough."

"Meruru will pay. For my sister and all the others who died at her hands."

"Good luck. Sounds like you'll need it."

Rhomar rose. Telling his story to this stranger only reinforced how much he hated Meruru, everything she represented. In the pursuit of his revenge, he had turned into one of those monsters he once vowed to vanquish. His hand closed around the crumpled old handkerchief and he silently asked Serena for forgiveness as he left the shop. Meruru would die today, even if it was the last thing he'd ever do.

Once he had left the city behind, Rhomar used an old standing stone to shorten the distance he needed to travel. Most people thought of them as remnants of old druidic worship sites, but he knew better. They were far older than even the druids or the elves, made in a time when angels and demons had roamed the world, deciding what they wanted to create next. The Order used them as secret pathways, the ancient words needed to activate them a prized secret lent to them by their demonic masters. Rhomar invoked the words and stepped into the stone.

* * * *

"Damn, I needed that," Meruru chuckled, crawling off Fraternus' prone body.

"One would think that with all those willing dimwits around, you would get all the fucking that you need," the imp grumbled. Then he squealed in agony as his body folded in on itself again. Meruru watched him spasm on the ruined bed, caressing a cum-stained breast.

"Watch your tongue, imp," Meruru admonished him once he was his foot-tall self again. "Dimwits or not, one day they might be commanding a Legion of Hell. Or call on you for their twisted amusement."

"Huh. To me they looked like children with their hand in the cookie jar" Fraternus snorted. "Oh, over all the fucking I almost forgot. Rhomar is on his way here."

"Oh, how lovely" Meruru giggled. "So he has come to his senses after all these years? Did he say how much he missed me?"

Fraternus laughed, a high, painful wheezing. "Oh yes, he's dying to see you. And he plans on killing you."

"Ungrateful brat. But I will make sure he gets the reception he deserves." Meruru rolled off the bed and stretched leisurely. Then she yelled for her servants. The tower needed cleaning, some of the corpses needed to be removed and she craved a hot, soapy bubble bath. She never noticed the murderous stares Fraternus shot her way.

* * * *

Like a black claw piercing the heavens, the tower dominated the landscape around it. From afar, it looked crooked, but Rhomar knew that it was just a trick of the mind. Mortal perception wasn't used to the irregular geometry of the Burning Pits and the brain tried to correct what it perceived as impossible. The closer one got, the stronger the demonic influence became.

First, there were only occasional gusts of wind smelling of ash and sulphur, but every step showed more of the corruption emanating from that menacing building. Grass gave way to parched, blackened earth and then to stone, hot even through the soles of his boots. The tower itself was surrounded by a moat of bubbling lava, the only way across a narrow stone bridge without bannisters.

Rhomar stopped one last time and took in the dismal scenery. Meruru often had boasted how she had earned the tower by spending seven years as the preferred concubine of Gral'zu, one of the seven Lords of the Pit. She loved to shock her apprentices with tales of demonic debauchery, of week-long orgies that had left her body a scarred, shattered husk. But Gral'zu had seen her devotion and rewarded her, first with the ability to replace her body if it failed her, then with a place among his trusted faithful and lastly this tower, a tiny spot of Hell right in the midst of the Western Continent where she could find and nurture more devotees to his service.

Rhomar knew that he faced an almost impossible task. He wanted to kill Meruru once and for all, right in her lair. Doing so would invoke the wrath of Gral'zu, with a possible eternity of anguish in the Pits as punishment for that transgression. But there was a way. What if Meruru's soul never died?

To that end, he had spent the last twenty years researching soul magic and finally found what he needed: plans for a forbidden demonic weapon, the Soulblade.