Lan’s lunge went true, piercing the creamy furred chest. The beast let out an ear-shattering bellow of pain and jerked away. Lan’s sword was pulled from his hand.

He reached for his dagger, then remembered they were no longer between worlds. If they had returned to Claybore’s planet, then Lan’s arsenal of magical weapons worked. He straightened and faced the slavering monster. Yellowed teeth were exposed as lips pulled back. Talons lashed at the air in front of the creature as it gathered powerful hindquarters under it for the killing leap.

A fireball exploded from Lan’s fingertips. A loud sizzling filled the room as the greenish fire touched fur and flesh and began burning. Only when the beast’s heart had been turned into a cinder did the magical fire dwindle and finally extinguish.

“Whew,” Lan said. “Being in the mists must have addled my brain. My spells didn’t work there and I had to use my sword. Facing this again, it never occurred to me that a spell would defeat it so quickly.”

“Your swordplay was expert,” came a light, musical voice. “Your magics even more so.”

Lan turned to see the other mage for the first time. He had been groggy due to passing from nothingness to a real world. Now he was simply speechless from admiration. The mage rescuing him was not only a woman, she was a stunningly gorgeous woman. Long cascades of white-blonde hair fell past her shoulders. Grey eyes probed questioningly into his very soul and found answers. Lush, full red lips curled into a pleasant smile, one that Lan wanted to enjoy.

Her figure was even more captivating than her smile. Purple velvet cloaked her body, clinging to her with static intensity. She brushed back a vagrant strand of hair falling into her eyes and turned slightly, perching on the edge of a carved wood table.

“You seem startled. Do you recognize me?” she asked.

“Never could I forget you, had we met.” Lan introduced himself.

“I am Brinke.”

Lan bowed deeply. Brinke smiled at his attempt at the courtly gesture.

“You are not used to such things, are you?” she asked. “You seem so unlike mere courtiers.”

“I’m not,” Lan admitted. He cursed his rough upbringing. How he wished for the polish of a court dandy now.

“Yet you control magics of incredible power and versatility.” A note came into Brinke’s voice that alerted Lan to hidden dangers. “You neglected to mention your friend.” Brinke pointed to where Kiska lay unconscious.

“No friend mine,” Lan said bitterly. “She is one of Claybore’s personal staff, a commander high in his esteem.” The words choked him now; he felt the full force of the geas strangling him. “I… I love her,” he grated out between clenched lips.

“So?” Brinke moved around the table and sat in her chair.

She tented slender, gold-ringed fingers and peered at him over the top. Lan flinched under the intensity of the grey eyes, yet no spell was uttered. What magics Brinke used were only natural ones.

“I can’t help myself,” Lan said, fighting to keep control. “Claybore placed me under a geas. I… I can’t counter it. She is a dagger against my throat. Claybore cares nothing for her except as an instrument of my destruction.”

“She has tried to kill you several times.” Brinke’s words came as a simple statement, not a question. Lan nodded. “He saves her for the ultimate confrontation, then. If he succeeds in killing you without using her, however he intends to do that, fine. Otherwise, he always has a spy and ally in your camp.” Brinke shook her head, white-blonde hair fluttering up in disarray.

Lan glanced over to the mountain of dead carcass and asked, “Is there some way of removing that? I have no wish to keep it as a trophy.”

“Ugly, isn’t it? I’ve never seen its like around here.”

“There’s no way to find out what world it came from. The space between worlds contains beings from all, I think.”

Brinke made a small gesture. From a tiny closet set off to one side of the room came small demon-powered cylinders, rolling on rubber wheels. They hissed and complained but taloned arms came forth and grabbed at the carcass. The fronts of the cylinders opened and the demons began sucking in noisily until the beast vanished. Only then did the cleaners belch, whirl about, and return to their stations in the closet.

“You must tell me more of this,” Brinke said, pointing at Kiska. “Would you like me to kill her for you?”

Lan’s reaction came instinctively. Brinke slammed back in her chair as the spell sought to crush the life from her body. Only through extreme exertion did Lan lighten the spell he cast and then destroy it totally.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“This geas is more than I had thought,” the woman said softly. “But it could not be a common spell or a mage of your ability would have lifted it himself.” Brinke rose and said, “We’ll see that she’s put to bed. While your healing spells seemed adequate, let’s have the chirurgeon examine her.”

Lan picked Kiska up in his arms and followed Brinke through a maze of corridors. Glimpses out narrow windows showed the full bloom of summer on the land; he had returned to the world where the Pillar of Night beckoned so seductively to him.

“Claybore is not likely to know of your rescue,” Brinke said as she ushered Lan into a sleeping chamber. She indicated he ought to put Kiska on the bed. He lowered her gently, even as he wanted to throw her from the high window. “This castle is shielded against his intrusions.”

“You bear some burden put upon you by Claybore. What is it?”

She swallowed, then pulled herself up stiff-necked, eyes staring at a blank wall.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I know he has placed a geas on me, also, but its nature is hidden from me. I fear it.” She turned and gripped Lan’s brawny forearm. “Oh, how I fear not knowing what he might make me do. The uncertainty is worse than any deed he might make me perform.”

Lan snorted at that. “Claybore’s imagination is vivid. You might be better off not knowing.” But he understood the woman’s concern. Only because he had advanced to a stage almost matching Claybore’s had he been able to detect the geas forcing him to protect Kiska. Lan needed to surpass Claybore in ability to be able to counter the spell. He wondered if the answer lay locked within the beguiling Pillar of Night.

“Lan?” called out Kiska. “What happened?”

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll be here. There’s someone coming to examine you, to make sure your injuries aren’t worse than I thought.”

Brown eyes moved past Lan to fix on Brinke. Lan saw the calculation working in Kiska’s expression. He made no move to introduce the two.

“She is very lovely,” said Kiska.

“I will fetch the chirurgeon,” said Brinke, moving from the room with a liquid grace that reminded Lan of Inyx stalking game.

“She likes you. I can tell,” said Kiska.

“I used a small healing spell on your leg wound. All that saved you was the odd flow of time between worlds. An artery had been severed by the beast’s fanging. Only when we emerged back onto this world did the wound begin to bleed.”

“The Pillar of Night is near?” Kiska asked. “Never mind. It must be. I recognize this world. It was here that Claybore and I-” Kiska abruptly cut off her words and smiled wickedly. “That is no concern of yours, dear, loving Lan.” The words burned as if they had been dipped in acid.

Brinke returned with the chirurgeon, who performed a thorough and nonmagical examination. All the while Lan and Brinke stood to one side, quietly talking.

When the chirurgeon left, Lan said, “I should stay with her.”

“No, darling Lan,” spoke up Kiska. “I would rest. He gave me a sleeping potion. I… grow drowsy. Go and swap spells with her.” A tiny smile curled the corners of Kiska’s mouth. Lan couldn’t help but compare the difference between the two women. On Brinke a smile brought sunshine; on Kiska it chilled to the bone. “Go and leave me alone. I would sleep now.” Kiska pulled a blanket over her shoulder and turned her head away.