Part II: The Dungeons of The Demon Queen
Aznar drifted out of troubled dreams and into slow, painful awareness. His head ached, and his eyes burned. He tried to rub the sleep from them, and found his arms manacled with heavy chains. With the realization of his imprisonment, he was suddenly and fully awake. He had been captured! He quickly surveyed his surroundings -- he was in a small room with a cold stone floor, chained to a damp wall, under a low rocky ceiling, and imprisoned behind a wall of iron bars. Beyond the bars was a rough wooden table, and on the table a lamp, its flame flickering with a red, angry glow. He examined his chains - the links were of heavy iron, and the length of it was so short that he knew he wouldn't be able to even crouch upright, let alone stand. He growled, and rattled them.
"Save your strength, friend," said a voice, hoarse and tired sounding. It had come from another cell on the other side of the hall, beyond the table and lamp. He squinted, and when his eyes had grown accustomed to the dim light, he saw another set of bars for another cell, this one with three occupants. They were, like him, naked and chained to the walls. Two were broad and muscular, young men from the lowlands by the cut of their hair and their rich, golden skin. The third man was older, with greying hair and beard, and was sleeping. He looked haggard, as if he'd been in these dungeons for many, many years.
"What is this place?" said Aznar, his voice croaking strangely in the damp closeness of his cell. "Where am I?"
"You are in the dungeons of the Demon Queen," said the first man. "Like us, you are a prisoner and plaything of Zzaral."
"How did I get here?" muttered Aznar. "I remember that damned wisp of a wizard, and then there was a light. Magic, I suppose, leaving me stunned. Was that Zzaral then?"
"No," said the second youth, shaking his head. "That was Amblach, Zzaral's wizard and servant. Zzaral is a Demoness, a monster from Hell! She sends Amblach out to kidnap men."
"Aye, that Wizard has tricked us all, in his turn," said the first man who had spoken. "I am Dhurzinal, a Lord of the City of Umbushar on the River Llaz. I met Amblach at a Royal Party last full moon -- he was a horny slut! Fucked me behind a pillar while the King was making a speech!" Dhurzinal smiled and shook his head. "But the moment I felt his come on back, I passed out, only to awaken here, in this dungeon!"
"I am Charga, of Laom, a student at the University," said the other young man. "A week ago, Amblach sucked my cock in a corner of the library, and then I gave him a handjob. Like Dhurzinal, the moment I felt his come on my chest, I too fell into darkness, only to find myself here." He shrugged his shoulders and looked sadly around their cell.
"I am Aznar, from lots of places," replied Aznar. "I was fleeing some trouble in the mountains when that wizard appeared before me. He wanted to see my cock, so I obliged him. His come didn't touch me, but it mingled with mine on the ground; his seemed to burn like fire." Charga nodded his head.
"The principles of affinity govern magic -- your come was a part of you, as his was a part of him, and it allowed his magic to work," the scholar said.
"And what of the old man?" asked Aznar, nodding towards the sleeping figure. The two young men looked troubled, frowns forming on their faces.
"How old would you think him, Aznar?" asked Dhurzinal.
"No less than fifty years, I'd say." He answered. "Though in this murk I can't see too well. Is he sick?"
"I tell you, Aznar," Charga said, his voice low and fearful. "That man is named Hramath, and he is no older than twenty-five."
"What?" shouted Aznar, his eyes wide with horror. "What plague wracks him, then, and are we all to suffer and die of it in here? I scarcely believe it! Twenty-five?"
"Charga speaks the truth," said Dhurzinal. "When I first arrived here, Hramath looked as we all do, men in the primes of our lives. As to what plague afflicts him, it has a name: Zzaral! And she indeed dooms us all with the same fate!"
"She is a demon," Charga said, leaning as far forward as his chains would allow him. "A succubus who feeds on sexual energy! She sends her pet wizard out to capture strong men, and then she drains them of their essence, growing stronger and more seductive, while we waste away."
A chill went up Aznar's spine -- wizards, demons, hell-born fiends! And he was their prisoner! He opened his mouth to respond, but the rusty groan of a distant door further down the hall stopped him. There was the tread of heavy boots, and a metallic clinking -- a key ring, possibly? Aznar tensed, and waited. The steps drew nearer. Something large and heavy was treading down the hall. Dhurzinal and Charga had stopped speaking too, and they lowered their heads, averting their eyes. What horror was coming for them?
Aznar gasped aloud when the figure strode into view.
