Too many things happened at once for Delly to remember the precise order in which they occurred. However, nothing would ever cause her to forget the sight of Sonan summoning his rage. The ground rolled beneath her as the mosaic flooring cracked and split. Most people lost their balance and fell to the ground, including Delly. The woman dropped to a knee as the two guards who held her stumbled away.
Pilthon’s spell against her failed, and he turned in horror as the legendary barbarian called upon his power. The quake caused the two half-orcs to release their prisoner and fall to the floor. Sonan swelled with power, his muscles tightening and reddening with fury. He didn’t grow in size as much as perceived might. The sun is the same size when it sets in the west as when it is directly overhead. However, you can stare at one with your eyes wide open while you can barely glance at the other. Sonan was the sun at noon, blazing with unexplainable intensity.
The barbarian reached down to grab the ankles of the half-orcs before they could scramble away and hefted their massive bodies into the air as if he were retrieving a dropped handkerchief. He spun them briefly beside him, their screams filling the hall, before tossing them over his shoulder into the void of shadow, where they crashed violently into an unseen stone wall, their voices silenced forever.
The brief time Sonan used to dispose of the guards allowed the rest of the gambling hall’s defenses to come alive. More men and monsters emerged from the magical darkness. Arrows bounced off Sonan’s tight skin while fire and electricity rolled off him in waves. He ignored the desperate attacks and focused on Pilthon. The mage tried the same spell he was going to use on Delly, but it failed miserably as the huge man picked him up and literally ripped him into, his torse flying in one direction, his legs in another, a plume of blood and gore exploding between them.
As Delly watched the enraged barbarian fight off the remaining foes and the other patrons react to the chaos, she realized she needed to protect herself. Before summoning her power, she felt a sharp stab of pain in her back, and a rush of cold filled her veins. She spun to see the two guards who had held her both clutching daggers. She didn’t know if she still had time to call upon her rage, but the chill in her muscles told her she wouldn’t have the strength without it.
Delly opened herself to her goddess above like she had done countless times before . . . and felt nothing. Instead of power, might, and speed filling her soul, she felt emptiness. If anything, the cold within her veins only increased, and she wished for a hole in the ceiling so the burning sun outside might warm her. Instead, heat came from below. Fire raged up into her legs, burning away the chill. It felt wrong to her, demonic in nature, but since she had opened her soul to accept the divine rage, her defenses were down. She lacked the mental acuity to fight against the magical invasion, and the unwanted presence burned through her body.
The woman fell to her knees, powerless against the overwhelming force consuming her. She looked up, expecting to see the two thugs slashing at her with their daggers. Instead, she saw only one coming at her from the left. Before he got close enough to strike, he reared up in pain and fell beside her, an arrow in his back. She looked to the right and saw the other man dead with a similar shaft in his head.
Delly’s eyes found Tenesta in the distance, already turning her bow on the next available target. She wanted to cry out and thank her friend, but her vocal cords seized, and she reared up, arching her back in pain as it felt like grape-sized fireballs pushed through her blood vessels. Without thinking, she scratched at her exposed flesh, her fingernails feeling like a demon’s claws, wishing to tear out her veins and hurl them across the room. She made a bloody mess of herself, further draining her strength, and fell to her hands and knees as she struggled with the pain. She managed to look toward where she knew Pok was and saw the necromancer deep in a spell, seemingly unaware of her struggles. He couldn’t help her.
As the last of her strength drained away, Delly knew she had no option but to enter her inventory to retrieve a potion. It would make her vulnerable, though, no more so than she already was. Her eyes rolled into her head, but instead of her collected items, she saw only darkness and collapsed into a heap on the floor.
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Delly woke in a daze. Heat and pain still filled her body, but it was a gentle warmth evenly spread throughout her body, and the pain was a dull throb, not an intense surge. Her blurry vision could discern nothing in the dim room, and she blinked several times to no avail. She turned her body, realizing for the first time that she was lying down. A thin sheet covered her, and after a moment’s inspection, she discovered she was naked beneath.
“Delly, you’re awake. Please, don’t move.”
The voice sounded calm and firm, and she felt obligated to obey it.
“Please, drink this.”
A blurry form hovered over her, and she felt a strong hand slip under her bare back and lift her gently into a sitting position. Delly smelled the familiar aroma of a healing potion and drank freely. Within seconds, her vision cleared, and the pain subsided. The heat remained. Sonan knelt beside her bed, a concerned look on his face.
“Where are we?” she asked, her voice still weak.
“An inn, many blocks from The Desert Dice. I thought you might be dead. I carried you here.”
“Thank you,” Delly said, staring into the man’s eyes. With her pain gone, she felt an intense hunger, and she wasn’t sure it craved food.
“I’m sorry about your clothes,” he said, trying to look away from her naked torso as she sat up with the sheets pooled at her waist. He failed miserably. “It looked like a swarm of sand badgers attacked you. Your skin and clothing were ripped to shreds. I did my best to tend to your wounds, but I am not a healer.”
With his hand still supporting her back, Delly was able to lift her arms from the bed and examine her fingernails. They were short and manicured, not at all reminiscent of the claws she had used to rip at her flesh. “I . . . I think I did it to myself. I . . . don’t know. Something consumed me.” She looked up from her hands to his face, only a couple of feet from hers. “I can’t explain it.”
“You were attacked,” he said, not pulling away from her closeness. “Dead men surrounded you, and I pulled an arrow from your back. I don’t think you did this to yourself.”
An arrow? Delly didn’t remember that. She had felt a stab in her back, and when she had turned, two men with knives stood behind her. Tenesta had been firing arrows. She was too good to hit her accidentally.
“I have some food,” Sonan said, pulling away and easing her back into the bed.
“No,” she nearly cried, clutching at his arm. “Don’t leave me.”
“The food is just a few feet away,” he said, motioning toward a nearby table. He had more than enough strength to free himself from her grasp, but he didn’t try too hard. “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?”
“Not for food,” she smiled weekly, pulling him closer.
“Are you sure?” he replied, barely restraining his own desires.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she said, pulling his face down and kissing him deeply. Sonan didn’t need any more of an invitation and gently lowered himself on top of her.
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Delly wasn’t a virgin. She’d had sex before, but never like this. The pleasure was indescribable as the heat within her grew to enormous heights. In the gaming house, it had burned her and caused immeasurable pain; now, it completed her. She became one with the fire, one with her passion. The more she fed her hunger, the more it craved. And Sonan was more than capable of providing the fuel.
Few lovers had ever been able to match her in strength, and she preferred to be dominant in bed. This legendary barbarian was up to the task and was no novice to the bedroom either. At one point, Delly felt the room shake and wondered if Sonan was calling on his tremendous power to fuel his performance. The idea invigorated her further, and she wrestled with the man, sucking at every last ounce of strength he provided.
The bed couldn’t contain them, and soon they were on the floor, rolling into and breaking the furniture. Glass lamps shattered about them, picture frames fell from the walls, and table legs broke into kindling amidst their fury. Even the basin of wash water that tumbled down on them couldn’t quench their enflamed lovemaking.
Delly lost track of time. She lived on another plane of existence where fire, pain, and passion all mingled into one delectable cocktail of power. She no longer felt the air within her gasping lungs, the scratch of the wooden floor against her skin, or even Sonan’s strong embrace. Her only sense was of the power that grew within her – a power which only crescendoed and had no climax. She felt like she could live in that moment for all eternity, constantly climbing a ladder of ecstasy.
The spell finally broke when her warrior’s instinct heard the door to their room open, and voices entered. Delly desperately tried to scramble back to the reality around her, sensing she was in danger. Once again, her vision blurred, seeing everything through a reddish haze as passion and fire still pulsed through her with a vengeance. She could tell she was on the floor and pushed away from the intruders until her back pressed firmly against a wall. Her body reacted in a way she had never experienced, telling her that the barrier was only six inches of stone and she could push through it like wet paper if she wanted. That type of power at her fingertips gave her pause and shocked her back to reality.
The room came into focus, and she first saw Sonan’s naked body lying limp on the floor several feet away from her. Something was wrong with him. He looked weak for the first time. Delly desired to crawl toward him, but another figure, sprinting across the room and jumping over broken furniture, drew her attention away.
It was Ferrick.
The shock of the man’s presence competed in severity with the other earth-shattering experiences she had undergone that day, and she didn’t put up a defense as he closed on her and knelt. She knew instinctively that she could grab his arm and throw him through the ceiling of this room as effortlessly as tossing a stone into the middle of a lake, but something in his goofy, disarming smile gave her pause.
“You are lovely,” he said and reached forward with what looked like a ruby necklace.
Something told her to stop him, to fight back, but she just sat there, too disoriented physically with her new power and too confused mentally to string commands together for her body to follow. When the jewelry snapped tight around her neck, it all came crashing down.
Her posture didn’t change, but it felt like she hit the floor after falling from a cliff. Gone was her strength and power, and with it, her confusion. Once again, she was Delilah Sorek, level 10 barbarian. Only the heat and hunger remained, burning a pit in her soul that could never be satisfied. She looked up at Ferrick, who had retreated a few feet and stared down at her, still with that awkward smile. Delly remembered she was naked and curled up into a ball, crossing her arms and legs over her body. “What did you do?” she asked. “What is the meaning . . .” her question trailed off as she looked past the fighter at who else had entered the room.
The rest of her crew was there. Pok stood still and stoic, his hands clasped before him. Tenesta stood beside him, her bow out and an arrow trained on Delly’s cowering form. On the necromancer’s other side stood Kelrick, the alchemist she had seen in The Desert Dice. The three of them had been with her when Sonan had summoned his rage. The plan was to convince the barbarian to enter the arena so they could observe his power. They were supposed to jump in and rescue Delly if anything went south. But they hadn’t. Sonan had brought her here. Why hadn’t they stepped in?
Delly looked beyond them and saw two others she recognized. Dreller, the dessert warrior with the scorpion gear, stood off to the side. He wasn’t looking at Delly. Instead, he watched three of his men wrestle the unconscious Sonan into iron shackles thick enough to yoke oxen. Beside Dreller stood a man Delly had hoped never to meet: Paltine. Lord Vulder’s mind mage was an albino who wore tight-fitting gray robes with no visible equipment. Other than a giant green medallion, he had no rings, bracelets, or jewelry or carried any weapons. He wore his white hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, giving him a perpetually alert expression.
Her eyes returned to Sonan, who was now erect, half-conscious, and being carried out of the room. “What have I done?” she asked, focusing the question on Pok. “What have you done to me?”
“I regret to inform you that you are now a succubus,” the dark elf said. “Or, at least, you are possessed by one. You are still a living human female with a demon living inside you. I assume you can feel its insatiable hunger. Even with the substantial meal you just consumed, it is a feeling you best get accustomed to.”
“I drained his strength, didn’t I?” Delly asked.
Pok nodded. “Yes. You did. His immense power is now trapped inside of you. He will never be able to call on it again. Oh, he is still quite strong, and the Prime Regent will need to be careful with him, but he is far more manageable now. You have done your city a great service.”
Delly refused to take the bait. He wanted her to react harshly to his mocking tone, to attack recklessly. Instead, her left hand went up to the choker around her neck. It pulsed with magic at her touch. “Trapped inside me?” she repeated what Pok had said.
“Yes,” the necromancer confirmed. “I hope you realize the exquisite difficulty of what we have accomplished. These were not easy spells. We needed a sample of your blood and hair. We needed intimate knowledge of your goddess and how you access her. We needed to find a succubus willing to engage with your soul. We had to find a way to get our powerful potion into your bloodstream. And we had to do all that without your knowledge and perform the spells during the chaos your friend instigated at the gaming house. You should feel privileged.”
It all made sense to Delly now. Dreller must have approached Pok secretly before their meeting in the tavern yesterday. They had devised this plan, confirmed it with the other members, and then pretended to meet for the first time for Delly’s benefit. Sonan had said she had been hit with an arrow. Kelrick must have crafted the poison, and then Tenesta had shot it into her. That was when the chill had crept into her body. She had seen Pok deep in his spell casting while the succubus had invaded her soul.
“How much did Vulder pay you?” Delly said after she had thought everything through.
“It’s LORD Vulder,” Tensta corrected, peering down at her friend past the tip of a cocked arrow. “And it was a lot.”
“A lot more, too, since Pilthon is dead,” Ferrick added. “Fewer people to split the gold with.”
The fire inside her grew hot with fury at the callous words of her former companions, and she could take it no more. Delly jumped away from the wall like a coiled spring. Tenesta fired too quickly and missed, the arrow nicking Delly’s hip and bouncing off the stone wall behind her. The barbarian felt the choker on her neck pulse with power, blocking her access to the rage she was accustomed to, but she was powerful enough without it to do what she wanted. Her arms reached toward her target, her hands splayed wide. Ferrick, Tenesta, and Kelrick dove to the side, away from the charging woman, but Delly focused on Pok. To the necromancer’s credit, the dark elf never flinched.
“Hold.”
The command was spoken calmly, without any sense of urgency. Delly stopped dead as if the air around her had turned to solid rock, her hands only a few feet from snapping Pok’s neck. Her eyes looked past the necromancer and saw the albino mage. “Impressive,” Paltine said. “Even without access to her rage, her magical defenses are higher than I expected.” He stepped up to her and analyzed her frozen form as if inspecting a nude statue. Her arms and legs began to twitch the longer he looked. “Impossible,” he said as he added more mana to the spell. Still, she started to break free. “Grab her,” he commanded. “My magic has no control with Sonan’s power inside her.”
Tenesta and Ferrick responded quickly, securing Delly’s arms right before she canceled the spell. Kelrick helped by blowing a powder in her face, stealing most of her ferocity and her voice. Paltine stepped back from the powerful woman, slight fear in his eyes. “What will you do with her?”
“We can’t kill her,” the dark elf said. “Sonan’s power will dissipate back into the earth, and with time, he will be able to summon it again.”
“She can’t stay here,” Tenesta said. Delly sneered at the accurate statement. If they let her stay in the city, even locked up, she would find a way out and come after them. She wouldn’t rest until they all paid for their betrayal.
“I know of a brothel,” Ferrick said. “It is on the other side of the mountains along the coast. They have an interesting assortment of women working there and a clientele that expects the unusual. The madam who runs it will know what to do with a succubus.”
“Excellent,” Paltine said. “Make it happen. Find some clothes for her and put her on the first caravan out of the city tonight. I never want to see her again.” With that, the mage left the room. Dreller had followed his men when they had removed Sonan earlier, leaving only Delly and her four old associates. They smiled as they tied her up and carried her out of the room.