CHAPTER 28
The pyramid grew smaller and smaller beneath them. Mika watched Hornsbuck and Lotus Blossom for as long as he was able, watched as they used the coming of the harpies to wrest themselves free of the guards, then attacked and killed them with their own weapons, abetted by the wolves.
Mika tried to keep his mind off the trickle of blood that inched its way down his body where the great talons gripped his shoulders.
The wall of the city below had been almost completely destroyed; a charred and smoking line of blackness ringed the city. Where the wall still stood, citizens had gathered and were throwing burning brands on the pitiful remains.
Destruction was rampant throughout the city; buildings lay crumbled and collapsed, while rusties of all sizes rummaged in the rubble, only now, with the advance of the sun, starting to withdraw.
Chaos prevailed over most of Exag. Here and there lone priests were being chased by angry citizens, but for the most part it was disorder of a simpler, happier sort. The Exagians, long denied freedom of pleasure, were making up for lost time with zealous excess that would bring headaches on the morrow: they ran naked through the streets, downing alcoholic beverages in great quantity, and frolicked with the opposite sex. Even as Mika was borne away, he felt a gladness grow in him that he had been able to bring about the collapse of such a repressive society.
Finally, the city-or what remained of it-was lost to sight as the harpy carried Mika high into the mountains. The blood had ceased to flow and his shoulders ached immeasurably where the creature gripped him, but pain was preferable to death. He did not complain.
As they circled even higher, Mika felt the tingling begin for the fifth time, as he knew it must. This time it was not quite so bad, though almost bearable in its intensity. Perhaps it was because he was expecting it. After all, if destroying a city didn't deserve a demon finger, what did? Or perhaps it was because he was growing used to it. Whatever the reason, he was able to remain conscious throughout the horrible process. Or maybe it was even part of the demon's plan for tormenting Mika, for he was able to remain alert and watch as the harpy, accompanied by her child, now fully feathered and flying alone, carried him to a dank, depressing aerie high on the flank of the mountain overlooking the city.
The harpy looked at Mika, her eyes dark and blank and filled with cold cunning, tempered by another emotion Mika struggled to identify.
Mika tried to find some shred of warmth, not slightly human emotion to relate to, but there was nothing. He tried to avoid looking at the harpy's body, which was grotesque beyond belief. The face was hideous enough, cold, dark eyes bereft of the slightest vestige of warmth. The mouth was slack and wet, and sharp teeth, accustomed to the taste of human flesh, glinted in the light of the newborn sun. The hair that covered her head was brittle and lacklustre, and it stuck up at odd angles like hay from an ill-made stack. The flesh was white and pale, chapped and rough from exposure to the elements, and bore little resemblance to the soft, clean, sweet- smelling flesh of women he had known in the past.
The carrion stench of the ugly creature was enough to gag a weaker man. Mika was forced to admit that he was a weaker man, so he took care to breathe through his mouth. The body was an awful caricature of all that was meaningful in Mika's life, the withered, pendulous breasts a parody of feminine beauty.
Below the waist, the harpy was less difficult to look at since her nether regions were rounded and feathered, ending in powerful wings, gigantic thighs, and chickenlike legs with three immense, taloned toes.
The youngling, whom he had to thank for his life, was only slightly less ugly. Already tiny breasts were beginning to form on the narrow chest, and her feathers were a soft and silky gray. Her face was not terribly unattractive if you squinted, and her hair would have been almost decent with a good wash.
Mika smiled at the youngling and began to wonder why one never heard of male harpies, when the elder female shrieked in his ear and shoved him toward the edge of the aerie.
"All right, all right!" said Mika, wondering how it was that mothers always knew what you were thinking, whether or not they were able to mind-meld.
Then the female reached out and grabbed Mika with a powerful grip, pulling him toward her in spite of the fact that he was digging in his heels, resisting.
The harpy smiled at him and cooed gently, spittle drooling out of the corner of her mouth. She batted her eyelids coyly. With a terrible shock Mika identified the strange look in her eyes as passion!
Mika was horror-stricken! Love with a harpy! Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! The thought was almost too horrible to contemplate, but he knew he dared not show his dismay or she would kill him outright.
What followed was a nightmare. The harpy drew him to her, enfolding him in her arms while pressing her body against his, nibbling on his ears and the back of his neck. She held him immobile with her powerful wings and ran her hands over his body. He struggled, but it was no use, she was just too strong. She played with him, her fingers alternately caressing, stroking, pinching, pulling, teasing. Racked with revulsion though he was, Mika found himself responding to her expert ministrations!
He cursed his body and pictured disgusting thoughts, like liver and onions, baby puke, and maggots, but nothing worked-his body continued to react, and for once the curse failed to do its awful work. He tried to push her away, but the wings pinioned his arms, holding him prisoner while the harpy continued to have her way with him.
"Stop! I'm the man! This isn't the way it's supposed to be!" shreiked Mika, but the harpy paid him no mind at all, nuzzling him and stilling his cries with her mouth. And his body, traitorous thing that it was, defied him, acting independent of and ignoring his loud mental protests.
At last he could fight no longer. Seduced from without, betrayed from within, he gave himself up to his fate.
The harpy played him like an instrument, strumming the low notes and then rising higher and higher, bringing him to the very brink of crescendo before pulling away and starting again. Over and over it happened, the harpy smiling blissfully, Mika nearly gibbering with the constant rise and fall of unrequited emotion. Intensely pleasurable though it was, Mika did not know how much more his poor body could stand and wondered if one could actually die from such efforts.
Once again it began. In desperation Mika decided that he would try a mind-meld again, only this time without the blasted charm spell, for that was undoubtedly the reason for the harpy's attentions. Hopefully he would reach whatever dark place passed for her mind and persuade her to let him go.
The passion started to build in him. Closing his mind to it, he clutched the magic gem in his gauntlet- ed hand, the only item of clothing left to him, and began to chant the now familiar spell. As the last word left his lips, there was the feeling of floating, the feeling of empty space, of spiraling down, and then he was joined with the harpy.
The emotion took him then, swept him away, joining, combining both his feelings and those of the harpy. Higher and higher they rose, and Mika almost imagined he could feel the wind rushing past him, so intense was the passion. Then he opened his eyes and nearly fainted, for he did feel the wind rushing past him. They were airborne, circling higher and higher in the cold, thin air above the mountain!
Mika screamed and began to struggle, pushing against the harpy and wriggling wildly. It was more than either of them could bear; the harpy lost control and seized Mika tightly with her arms as her great wings beat the air in powerful, measured strokes, exploding in a white heat that blended with a brilliant kaleidoscope of colors more intense than anything Mika had ever experienced. As the ecstasy ripped through her and was passed along to Mika, he screamed aloud, his voice echoing off the mountains.