Death Fourteen

I rush out of the apartments. My heels are encased in tintinnabulation.

Where are Gregoire's rooms?

I scream and wail like a banshee hoping someone will answer. I scream racing the corridors hoping someone will hear and investigate.

Rounding the corner, I narrowly sidestep Mistress Byerene; Moon turns have taught me about avoiding beings.

"Miss, Miss, whatever is the matter? Your screams sound of murder."

"The Immortal Lord, he is -is -is burning."

I display my burnt hands.

"Dyu's Miss let's go to the infirmary."

"No-no -no you don't understand. The Immortal Lord di-di-did this. He-he emits heat. Every-every-everything he touches turns to f-f-f-fire. I Burn-burn-burned my hands when I dragged him to the wash pool. Water e-e-e-eva-eva-evaraptorates. I-I-I can't turn th-th-the faucet."

"You have done well Miss, let's hurry to the bathing room. I will operate the water, then we must find Gregoire, he know's more of lous'rife and may be able to think of a counter marque."

Without further ado, she crisply turns and all but runs towards the Immoral Lord's apartments.

When we arrive, dutiful servant to the marrow, Gregoire heard my cries, rushed over and stands over the pool faucet which is gushing like an open wound. The water spurts in sporadic angles drenching all who come too near.

Logically, pouring cold water on the Immortal Lord seems a sensible option, but the water rolls like oil and steams. Smoke emanates and billows, creating long tendrils which slither toward cooler air.

Gregoire notices the water isn't helping and shuts it off and rushes toward us.

His figure burst through milky clouds grabbing me by the shoulders and shakes me hard, hard enough to rattle my brain and make my teeth chatter.

My hood slips off my head and I bite my tongue. Copper fills my mouth.

"What happened?" he demands.

"Gregoire!" Mistress Byerne snaps, "She is most likely not to remember now you have addled her brain."

I knock his hands from my shoulders quickly, duck and sidestep to the right, under his arms. In the same motion, I pull my hood over my head to avoid his eyes.

"I-I-I don't know. He-he-he knocked at my door. I answered. He-he stood and asked f-f--for me t-to st-st-st-op stop the burning. He collapsed on the floor and I dragged him by the ankles and into the pool.

Then I-I started baying like a r-r-r-rife'hound." My fear causes my stutter to trickle.

"You must know something, why is he like this? You must have used your Will. I know about your power and your curse. Am I true?"

He shakes me harder.

I open my mouth to speak denial. My teeth shut and click and I say, "T-The rumors a-a-are true, maybe it's because The Immortal Lord d-d-drank my blood and I am cursed."

I stumble a few steps and say, " I-I-I have an idea. I need Mr.Gregorie and Mistress Byerne."

"Of course, " Gregoire responds.

"He drank your blood?" Mistress Byerne is excited and confused.

Why in the ofinras is she excited?

Gregoire asks and says, "Mistress Byerne, is not a time to celebrate."

Mistress Byerne gives a cough and asks, "What would you like us to do?"

She's too well-mannered to speak of anything else.

"F-First, I n-need you both to leave," I hold up my hand so they won't protest, "I need G-Gregoire to take The Immortal Lord's d-d-door and Mistress Byerne m-m-mine. I-I-Icare not about what you have to do but prevent a fire and you mustn't l-l-l-let me leave before t-t-t-the Immortal Lord."

"His name is Jerrath. Lord Jerrath," Gregoire protests.

"Now is not the time," Mistress Byerne says.

"Of course," Gregoire turns towards Mistress Byerne and says, "We are doing to do a reverse barrier ice marque," and turning towards me he says, "We'll need some of your hair."

"Wh--wha-what?"

"Give us some of your hair."

"O-Okay." I run my fingers through my hair and a few strands come loose. Gregoire plucks one from my grip and Mistress Byerne another.

Catching my questioning glace Gregoire explains, "We will use your hair to tune the barrier against you so you will not be able to pass and we will keep watch. If all goes well, Lord Jerrath will know what to do. We will need a sixth of a candle to prepare the marque. Please hold for that long."

"I-I-I can try, n-n-now go."

Without a glance, I gather my cloak on either side and march towards the bathing pool and down the steps.

Heat blisters my skin. I catch a whiff of smoked meat and burnt paper; it's followed by the sight of a large, burnt, glowing mass.

I gag.

The Immortal Lord is burning from the inside out.

With every step I take, blisters pop and burn. My hands bubble. Like a greedy lover, heat sucks air from my lungs, searing from within. Pain like never before is hot, angry, and passionate.

I have never died from heat or suffocation, the methods are ineffective. This mode of death takes two people and with every town person vying for my death, the first volunteer will surely end up dead.

With the final steps, I collapse to the burnt meat and ignore the way he smells delicious. I stay sentient enough to place my plan into action.

With a burst of Will, I wrap the folds of my cloak around my hands and place them atop the fiery mass. Upon contact, they burst into flame, but this flame isn't the usual oranges, blues nor yellows. This fire is a deep, cryptic and dark purple.

I do not have time to ponder the colour of flame, it consumes me eagerly. The smoke is only too happy to steal my last breath.

In my final thoughts, I beg for a sixth of a candle and hope my sleeping power recognizes The Immortal Lord as my killer.

The Immortal Lord

"Lord Jerrath, Lord Jerrath, wake up Lord Jerrath. I give this gift to you and I want you to be awake."

Lord Jerrath stirs; he must have died and gone to the eleventh layer or ofinras, where the siren's voices seared skin with ofinrife.

He recognizes the voice, he's been dreaming about it. For a quarter moon's turn, he's dreamt about the voice. A voice he recognizes as Desolation.

He cracks an eye open, and when the pain subsides, he opens the other. The sight which greets him makes him want to dispel the contents of his stomach. If he had any.

Charred like a slab of beef, Desolation's face is cracked with the effort to talk; blood and plasma ooze forth the abrasions. Most of her hair is burnt except for a large patch on the right side which hangs limply over her ear.

He sits up and says, "My Dyus's, I have gone to the eleventh layer." How else can he describe the horror before him?

"I am glad you think so too," the horror possessing Desolation's voice replies, "with everything you have made us suffer, it makes me glad to see you suffer. Listen up Lord Jerrath, I am only here on Desolation's request, her soft heart can't bear to see you suffer."

"Destruction?"

"You managed to work it out?"

"What happened to you? Why are you so burned"

"You should ask 'what happened to me?"'

"What happened to me?"

He spares a moment to glance down and notices he's deformed and burned like Desolation/Destruction. The scent of meat wafts and he's awestruck.

"My skin!" His skin is burnt, charred, and charcoal.

"At Desolation's request, I have removed the pain, but do not get comfortable Lord Jerrath. You have caused me much suffering and yours will return soon enough."

"Why am I here if I am not dead?"

"You're spirit is with me, when I slumber. As for your body, it is with Desolation, and right now it is in the pool. Desolation killed herself to save you, she managed to send her spirit to me to listen to her thoughts."

Lord Jerrath jumps and ignores the sound of crackling skin, "She what?"

"Technically, you killed her; but she did all the work."

"You never give me a Dyu Damned answer."

"Ooo temper Lord Jerrath, why don't you ask a straight question."

"Why are we burned to a crisp?"

"Let me tell you a story Lord Jerrath. Desolation asked for a sixth of a candle. What better way than to tell a story?

"Once upon a time, there was a King who needed a bride every year. One d-"

"Just get to the point!" The Immortal Lord snaps, "I don't think Desolation killed herself so you may share children's stories."

"But that's exactly what she did. We share the same body, you think I want to look like this?"

"No."

"Good. You remember when Desolation woke in your bed after you poisoned her?"

"How could I forget?"

"What happened then?"

Knowing asking more questions would delay the answers he seeks, Lord Jarrath acquiesces to her question and says, "Desolation grew so angry she summoned you and you pinned me to the wall with various pieces of furniture."

"You make it sound so elegant Lord Jerrath. Do you remember what happens next?"

Lord Jerrath thinks for a moment, "I cannot remember."

"It figures. We kissed Lord Jerrath."

"Pity I don't remember."

"Yes, a true pity. Now focus less on kissing and more on my words. When I kissed you, I enveloped you in Desolation's lousrife, through our kiss you accidentally absorbed a portion of my lousrife. Our lousrife's different than other beings. Most beings use their Will to destroy, as I do. My lousrife is red, several shades lighter than yours. Desolation is blue, the healing light."

"How is it possible you have two lousrife's. I thought you are one person with split personalities."

"I have theories but we should focus on your condition."

"Please explain."

"Through our kiss, I only meant to give you Desolation's lousrife to heal you a bit but we are connected my lousrife followed."

"The purple lousrife, I tried to contain it but it overwhelmed me."

"I am surprised you have lasted as long. Most beings die between one and three nights. You have lasted nine. I figured you'd be burnt to crips by now but Desolation's healing light slowed the process at least in the beginning. Her lousrife cannot overpower mine at the moment."

"Why not."

"The only time Desolation has ever healed something is when she healed you and I was the one who triggered her power. She's never been taught to wield any marque properly. Me, I'm constantly awake thus I have learned much in the ways of lousrife, Will and marques."

"Does not Desolation heal when she dies? How does she resurrect?"

"Good question, one I do not fully understand but I think it has to do with the spell on our skin. When she dies her skin will flare but the flame is our purple one combined. She does not call the power, the spell triggers it."

She looks up at the time candle hovering peacefully, eyebrows crackling in the process.

Lord Jerrath winces.

"Oh, looks like time is up. Brace yourself."

She snaps her fingers, the time candle disappears and Lord Jerrath doubles over as the sensation of his guts being wrenched through his mouth takes him by surprise. His body seizes and he drops to the floor curling into a ball.

"You'll want to stay alert Lord Jerrath if you miss this again you'll certainly regret it." Destruction's voice sounds as pained as his body.

Destruction places a palm on her cheek, he groans, and his body spasms.

Turning his head, she hovers her mouth over his and whispers, "Your suffering is at an end."

She kisses him. His mouth pulses with a thousand needles before soothing coolness replaces the heat. His skin soothed as if dipped in the coolest stream. He raises his hands and places them behind her head wanting more. Underneath Destruction's charred skin smooths and her hair once again turns into its long water soft self. He knows the same changes are happening to him.

"Well I am tired, I am going to give you Desolation. Have fun!"

Lord Jerrath did not understand her words until he feels her retreat only to be followed by Desolation's sleepy mind. He opens his eyes, slightly surprised that she continued to kiss him and they were in the same position as Destruction's spirit link. They must have shifted into their bodies as soon as their lips touched. He slides his hands from her hair down her sides to the base of her spine, relishing the soft smoothness.

Desolation shives beneath his fingers, "Mmmmm, what? What dream is this? Am I kissing a man? Feels good. I wonder who it is?"

She squirms away and breaks the kiss. He lets her and silently thinks, "It's a dream. It's a dream."

"Of course, it's a dream. I can look into his eyes. I don't feel the pull. I don't know who he is but I can indulge in this one small pleasure can't I? I rarely get these types of dreams and I am sure the Immortal Lord would never touch me like this. Who would? I am cursed. I guess dream man it is."

Lord Jerrath blanks his mind, through the link she had heard him, and if he was going to continue the facade of a dream, he would have to play it right.

"Who are you?" Desolation asks, whispery voice barely heard over the water pouring from the faucet. He could hear her question in his mind. "I don't think I have ever seen him before, it's too dark to tell for sure."

Lord Jerrath conjures a small light globe, letting it hover over their heads. He of course needed no light to see by, but Desolation's eyes as unused as they were, needed much more.

"Oh my, that light scared me but well worth it. My Dyu's he is breathtaking. I could stare for candles and never get bored. That hair. I have seen that hair before. The Immortal Lord has those shades. It can't be! It's just a dream, it could be anybody."

"Who are you?" she repeats.

Lord Jerrath takes a moment to slide his fingers up her spine, delighting in the way she arched towards him.

"Jerrath De'Noire."

"Lord Jerrath?" It can't be the same man, it just can't. I don't know what he looks like besides the length and shade of his braid.

"Yes?"

"Are you the Immortal Lord?"

"I will be anything if you would just grace me with your lips one more time," he answers truthfully.

"I think I am going to faint."

"Oh no you don't, I want that kiss.

Desolation doesn't seem to notice the link or he is speaking to her mentally. She knocks the wind from him when she leans forward and boldly places her mouth over his. Her position brings the soft tips of her breasts to rub against his chest. She devours him with tongue, lips, and teeth. Unable to help himself, he runs his hands over her sides making circles at her hips and back up again.

"Sensory overload." Her mind blanks and she crumbles atop him.

"Curses," Lord Jerrath gently rolls Desolation off and takes a moment to admire her. She had killed herself to help him. He did not know how long Desolation would remain in slumber but he thought it best to leave before she could impale him with the faucet.

He rises and turns off the running water. Then picks Desolation up and places her at the side of the pool. He makes his way through the bathing room to his apartments. Reaching the door, he encounters a wall of ice. He places his hands on the frozen surface and it dissolves revealing Gregoire on the other side.

"I am relieved to see you made it through. Might I ask of Desolation?"

"She saved me at a great cost, one I am sure she isn't ready to give. She lays at the side of the pool. Send Mistress Byerne to attend her, she is as nude as I am."

"As you wish my Lord, anything else?"

"When Mistress Byerne is finished, both of you meet in my drawing rooms, we have words to discuss."