Cobra was alone in her chambers. Her face was as white as an albino’s ghost.
The room had been cleared and the pillars replaced. Behind her a wooden tub of hot water steamed with soapy bubbles. Puddles of water glimmered on the silver floor beside bare pink toes protruding from the hem of her jeweled robe. It enveloped her body completely, glittering obsidian petals decorated with large silver eyes. Her blue-black hair, parted at the center of her head, fell to the sides in a flat shimmering shower past her throat, to cascade over her delicate shoulders.
On an ebony stand a leaden vial waited. Beside it a small open jar held a scarlet paste of female cochineal insects. A tiny brush of horse hairs and a silver mirror rested beside the jar. She let an arm escape her robe, picked up the mirror, and looked worriedly at her reflection. Her heavily kohled eyes were dull and sick. She dipped the brush in the red paste and applied it to her full lips. The color looked garish against her cold, chalky complexion.
Wearily, she set the brush down and picked up the leaden vial. Her hand and arm trembled, as she removed the lead plug. A beam of black light shot forth from the mouth. She stared at it vacantly, then with both hands brought the vial to her lips and drank its smoking contents.
She gagged and staggered back. Smoke drifted past her bright parted lips. Her body convulsed voluptuously. The swell of a breast heaved into view above her clutched hands. A sliver of naked thigh showed through the slit skirt of the robe. She clutched at the mirror anxiously, and peered into it as the glorious creamy color returned to her cheeks, then their rose tint.
She faced the interior stairway. Black smoke beckoned out of it, demanding her presence before the underworld altar of her Master. With a languid pace she crossed the room and dissolved into the dark vapors.
At the center of the mountain, black smoke filled the living cone. It swirled and rumbled angrily. Fires glowed within the dark center of its body. The floor of the cone had become one massive lava pool except for a thin path of hard basalt which curved through the vaporous black atmosphere, then vanished. The lava bubbled and spit, sending flames up and around the sides of the path. Cobra clutched her robe around her, and solemnly advanced through them and into the blackness.
She could barely make out the giant saurian skull. The bridge which had risen like a tongue into its spreading jaws was gone. Pieces of skull bone and teeth were broken away. But the brain cavity still boiled with fire. The flaming eye sockets glared down at her.
Cobra bowed once, then parted her robe, letting its weight carry it down off her body to gather in submissive silver and black folds at her feet, a perfect pedestal for an offering of perfect naked flesh. Her creamy translucent skin blushed exquisitely at cheeks and breasts. The thin diamond patch of curling hair glittered at the center of the fleshy setting, a black living jewel.
The devil rumbled. His smoke billowed up around her, stroking her thighs and breasts, arousing her until she trembled. Then without warning he shook the narrow stone path, throwing her down to her quivering knees, and lashed her with stinging flames until her skin was welted and the tips of her hair smoked.
She buried her face behind red lacquered nails. Her black hair cascaded over her wounded breasts. She sobbed, “Oh, Master! Forgive me. I know I have failed you. Scourge me. Degrade me. But I’ll make it up to you. Don’t… don’t cast me away! I beg you.”
The cone rumbled, spewing smoke over her, and she prostrated herself on the scorching stones, fingers clasped prayerfully.
“At this moment the Barbarian is dying,” she pleaded. “I swear it. The helmet will be yours again.”
She pressed her face to the floor, flinching as its heat scorched her breasts and stomach. The cone rumbled, shot flames to the ceiling. “No! No!” she whimpered. “It’s not possible! It’s been three days. The helmet has destroyed his mind by now.”
The altar rumbled again violently, bringing dust down on her bare arms and shoulders. She looked up with startled eyes, gasped, “The girl! No! How could she prevail against the helmet?”
Sheets of flame rose up on all sides of her, walled her in as the altar roared and shook bringing down parts of the skull. Then the flames sank away, and the room became quiet.
Cobra, sweating and oozing blood, rose tentatively, her large dark eyes dilated and rigid with shock. “Is… is it possible? He… he could live with the helmet? Turn it against me? Against you? Oh, Master, what have I done?”
Her head dropped silently, shuddered. Then she lifted her eyes to the altar as her body wilted with total surrender. “Take me, my Lord. Destroy me. I am ready.”
The flames flickered and diminished, and a rush of hope straightened her. She cautiously tilted her head, listened intently to the rhythmic drumming rumble rising out of the depths of the mountain as her Master instructed her. She sank to one knee, touched groin, breast and forehead, and whispered reverently, “My adored, my most worshipful Master, I will not fail you this time. I will go to Bahaara immediately. With the high priest there, I will create demons such as there have never been before to send against him and destroy him.”
She stood proud and magnificent, her hard full breasts thrusting. Ambition sparkled in her eyes. Her voice was clear and certain. “Your will shall be done. I will not only bring you your helmet, but his head, and the head of the miserable interfering girl as well.”
She swayed voluptuously and bowed her head bending gracefully until her streaming, black, silky hair caressed the floor in passionate homage. Swaying and undulating, she retreated in this position dragging her hair the length of the narrow stone path, then vanished in the shadows of the tunnel.