A Different Kind of Despair by Nicole Martinsen

Author:Nicole Martinsen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love, loss, adventure, magic, necromancer, chicken, barbarian

11: Grave Tidings

Marvin, Formosa and Diana struggled to keep up with me. I could sense a torrent of fear, and it guided my feet through the halls of Nethermountain without a doubt in my step. It was... delicious, like a banquet of savory meats and rare spices. My mouth watered. Violent images filled my thoughts with the same ecstasy I might acquire from listening to a symphony of the most heavenly music.

Oh no wonder devils adored suffering! It was more addicting than I could fathom, and truthfully, the part of me bound to Koronos didn't care for the particulars. Blood. Screams. Fire. Agony. My heart fluttered with euphoria at the notion of what lied ahead.

Enjoying yourself, little Shaman? I heard Koronos' voice in my mind. He didn't seem upset now that we were fused together. I'm not surprised. You're more sinister than you realize.

The part of me that was still human came to a screeching halt. I waited for the others to catch up, using it as an excuse to argue with the demon.

"Don't pretend that you know a thing about me."

Pretend? He laughed. My Lady, you said so yourself -you'd slice the throats of those who killed your tribe. Now that I have the opportunity to poke around in your head I can see that you meant it. Ooh, look at what we have here~ is this your mother, little Shaman?

An image of my ma'man sprung to the forefront of my thoughts. I could see her grinning as though she pulled off another one of her jokes at my expense. My heart constricted, and the little girl I used to be sobbed in a corner of my soul.

Quite the beauty. You take after her in this regard, I must say.

"No one asked you," I croaked. "Now knock it off."

Tut, tut! Just a moment -the others still have two more corridors before they catch up. Can't start the party without them now can we?

"Get out of my head, Koronos."

Sweet girl, release me and I'd be more than happy to do just that. Now, do pardon me if I'm a bit presumptuous in saying so, but isn't that the exact opposite of what you should be doing?

He was toying with me, with my mind and with my emotions, and I despised him for it. Once again that anger, which I'd temporarily forgotten in my haste, returned. He could only do this because of my weakness. Ma'man, what do I do?

How precious! Do you honestly believe yourself mature enough to temper that hatred within you? He was getting more and more confident, I could feel it, in his ability to provoke me. It's such a shame. Hatred can be a powerful tool, you know. Spite, in particular, seems to be a favorite among women such as yourself. Hatred is motive, fuel, and power all in one. Just imagine what you could do if you honed yours. I seldom speak the entire truth, my dear, but I meant what I told you earlier. It's been an age since I've seen such raw, unbridled potential.

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