Split of the Worlds

Chapter 4.4

Just a few more steps to the podium and they would soon have the hardest part done. Tazeel was waiting for them there, as he had also been granted the place of honor at N'Arahn's side in the hall. But he would not have access to Veidja.

The seducer slouched in his chair with a broad grin, a kneeling adjutant beside him who kept handing him delicacies and letting the green-skinned demonlord stroke his short hair. The expression on his face spoke of devotion to his master, and N'Arahn would not even be surprised if that was true. Tazeel could recognize and fulfill any wish. And get everything out of his victim in the process. Other demonlords were protected from this to some extent, especially in their own territories, but N'Arahn would be extremely reluctant to seek Tazeel out in his fortress.

He nodded to the dangerous demon and turned to face his guests. As he did so, he also took Veidja out of Tazeel's direct sphere of influence and to the other side of his throne. At his signal, one of his servants turned a heavy crank and a metal cage descended from the blackness of the high ceiling behind the angel.

The squeaking sound made the angel look up. Veidja stiffened immediately. N'Arahn turned to her and forced himself to grin. She had let go of his arm, but he grabbed her shoulder as he opened the cage door with a wave as soon as the metal touched the stone floor.

"Exhibit or demon food?" he asked quietly, hoping Tazeel didn't hear enough through the raucous hubbub of the feast. The warrior glared at him, growled, but allowed herself to be pushed into the cage. Apparently she understood what was at stake.

He carefully closed the barred door, sealed the lock with his mark and shielded the cage before letting it rise a few turns of the wheel again.

Yes, he had to bring her to this festivity. But he would not expose his prey to any greater danger than absolutely necessary. Now that the angel was safely stored, he would be able to turn his attention back to his guests more calmly.

"Interesting choice." Tazeel had leaned over to him as he took his seat on his throne as lord of the fortress. The demonlord's red-eyed gaze was disturbingly knowing.

- - - - - -

Veidja had the feeling that she would need some time to recover from this hellish feast. After all, her jailer had given her space since then; she hadn't even had to fight the last few days.

The fights in the arena didn't give her nightmares. But the gaze of that green-skinned demon, who had taken a place of honor next to N'Arahn, had gone straight to her bones. It had only been a brief moment, but it had been enough to make her still feel, um, tainted.

For some reason, that look had been worse for her than the mental duress N'Arahn had put her under. Yet she still got angry when she thought of his violent intrusion into her mind. Of how effortlessly he had brushed aside her will and turned her into a compliant puppet.

How his presence had wrapped itself around her, shielding her from outside impressions. Soft on the inside, thorns on the outside. The cage had been like that too. As soon as the demonlord had drawn a sigil over the castle, everything outside the cage had been a blur. Neither sounds nor images came through to her clearly. Only N'Arahn had been halfway recognizable, everything else was... foggy.

She couldn't say it hadn't been relieving. The amount of high-ranking demons around her, their real and mental emanations. It had all overwhelmed her. For a moment, she had been but a speck of dust in dark waters. Enemies everywhere, no escape, but no fight possible either.

The fact that she hadn't been completely at the mercy of these impressions had helped. Why had he done that for her? Wrong. Not for you. For his property. Don't forget that.

Still, it bothered her. There had been something...

A noise at the door to her chamber brought Veidja out of her musings. There had been no fight, why would the demonlord waste mana on her?

Instead of the expected escort, N'Arahn himself stood in the doorway, entering and immediately closing the passage behind him. The warrior jumped from the bed where she had been pondering her thoughts. What was he doing here?

But the demon stayed where he was, even leaning back against the wall. Veidja remained vigilant, ready to fight. Why was she so alarmed? There was something in the demonlord's posture, in his scent. And he was silent, just looking at her.

The emerald glint seemed a mirror of her own alertness. He wasn't relaxed, even if he looked that way on the surface. Something had happened. Or would happen.

Veidja realized that she had unconsciously taken on a defensive posture. She tried to ease some of the tension from her muscles so she wouldn't tense up. N'Arahn watched her insistently, seeming to gauge her reaction. He still hadn't made a sound.

Suddenly: "Good, you've recovered." His voice was matter-of-fact, almost cold, as he pushed himself away from the wall. He didn't come towards her, but she could feel his presence expanding. He might as well have stepped right in front of her. The angel braced herself; she would not back down.

"Your performance was a success. The other demonlords want to see more of you." A shudder seized the battle angel. More? Other demonlords? That one feast had already been horrible.
"The next visits will be more... private." N'Arahn turned to leave. "Prepare yourself for it."
With that, he was gone.

For a short while longer, Veidja was frozen, almost expecting the demonlord to return. Had that been all? Her thoughts were racing. Why had he told her that? And how should she prepare for it? For what exactly?

The angel's pulse raced as if she had just completed a session in the arena. There must be more to it.

Her suspicions were confirmed over the next few cycles. N'Arahn was cool in a way she couldn't place. He was silent in her presence, which was uncharacteristic of him. There was only one fight that he was solely observing. She almost had the impression that he avoided her. He even pressed her mana into her hand rather forcibly, still in the sand of the arena, silently and with an impatient gesture for her to drink it.

He was distracted and it irritated her. She would have thought it the best time to make another escape attempt, but his physical and mental absence was offset by a mass of lesser demons constantly watching over her. It also unsettled her, even if Veidja didn't like to admit it to herself. What was so special about these visits that they preoccupied the lord of the fortress to such an extent? Or had she suddenly become unimportant to him, a nuisance? And if so, did it offer her an opportunity or did it bring additional danger?

It was almost a relief when one of N'Arahn's captains brought her white battle robes, which she had previously only worn on one occasion. So now the time had come. Whatever she was facing, she didn't have to wait any longer. And she could hope for a fight.