“No, there are oceans and lakes, but they are more tropical. There are mountains, also . . . snow demons come from there. The seasons do change, but it’s not quite like Earthside or Otherworld. It’s an environment all its own.” Vanzir looked preoccupied. “We are far from any cities, at least I know that.”
I frowned. “Cities? I know there are cities here, but . . .”
“I was born in Quantell, a city on the edge of a vast desert. Not a desert like this, but rolling dunes that go on and on without end. I remember very little of it, though, because shortly after I was born, my mother sold me to a trader, who took me with him to a fortress in the mountains. There, he trained me to use my powers as a weapon, and then he traded me to a demon general. I don’t know what he got in return, but from then on, I was both a weapon and a sex slave. Karvanak won me in a poker game.”
A look passed through those kaleidoscope eyes, the ones we could never settle on a color for, and his voice was gruff and harsh. I could sense the memories behind the words—just as my own voice sounded when I talked about Dredge.
“I understand. You know I do. At least, to some extent.” I had been tortured and abused for a night before being turned. Vanzir had spent a good share of his life as a slave.
“You more than most. And Camille, as well.” And that part of the subject was closed. After another pause, he said, “Shadow Wing was born and came to power in Vaikish. It’s a vast city—spread throughout the dunes like a mystical Ceredream that rises out of the sand. Efreet live there, and Salamanders, and other fire spirits. And Soul Eaters, like Shadow Wing, congregate there. He climbed on the backs of others, assassinating his way to claim the throne. At least in this area.”
“I don’t fully understand, I think. Nor my sisters. So Shadow Wing is not the Demon Lord of all of the Sub-Realms?” We had never fully managed to come to grips with how the hierarchies worked here. There wasn’t much written on the subject, and those who knew best—the Demonkin—didn’t go parading the knowledge around.
“There are other lords, in other lands. The Sub-Realms are as vast as Otherworld, perhaps even more so. There are levels to the realms, worlds within worlds. Some are far less fearsome, others total pandemonium. Some would drive you mad if you even set foot in them. Their energy there is not meant for the likes of mortals, even if they are vampire or Fae.” Vanzir shrugged. “I might manage it, but I wouldn’t want to try.”
Trytian turned around. “Shush, you two. We need to move in silence.” Then, “What he says is correct. Never go waltzing around unescorted down here. If you go through the wrong door, you will be lost forever.”
As we moved onward, the landscape became a labyrinth of twists and turns through the rocky terrain. I began to realize that I would easily be lost if it weren’t for Trytian guiding us—there were no landmarks that I could see, no identifying markers or structures. The light overhead held steady, never growing, never darkening, and I wondered if there was any change to the endless half light.
“Does it ever get dark?” I finally asked, when the sea of reds and rusts started to blur into a haze of murk.
Vanzir shook his head. “No, never. And never brighter than this. At least not in this layer of the Sub-Realms. In some places, it’s black as pitch, blacker than any darkness you’ve ever encountered. Darker than the grave, in fact. Any light is absorbed. Ancient monsters sleep coiled in that realm, and they shift and stir, causing great quakes with their turning. Once in a long while, one wakes and blazes out into the other realms, taking with it death and destruction and anguish.”
I shuddered, thinking of the wyrm we had recently fought. These creatures sounded worse than the ancestors of dragons, and they were terrifying enough. “They sound primordial.”
“They are, and in their rage, they know no boundaries.”
Trytian glanced back. “We’re coming to the end of this part of Stone Rock Fields.”
“Is that what you call this area?”
“Yes, but be wary. When we emerge, we’ll be facing a far greater danger, and you must be very cautious when crossing the river.”
I was about to say that I didn’t drown all that easily when Trytian led us out of the maze of hoodoos. Even from this distance, the heat was tangible from the rush of lava racing through a very large channel. An overpass arched over the riverbed, rising at least fifty feet away from the surface, and it started a good twenty feet back from the edge of the river of molten rock. But the arch was old and looked like the rock had crumbled away in places, and the thought of crossing over the lake of burning fire scared the hell out of me. I could tell Trillian and Vanzir weren’t all that thrilled either. Even Shade looked askance.
“I’d fly over, but that would likely attract attention,” he mumbled.