Tinaya looked back down at the witch and found that her eyes rested on the Duchess herself now instead of the man. The Duchess nodded and her fingers left her knife as she said, “What do we do now?”
“There isn’t anything you can do without magic. He is dying,” Aldoa said, touching the man’s brow. “My poor Quentin…you have done much to save everyone around you. Now…it is our turn to save you.”
She stood behind Quentin’s head and grasped either side of it. A beautiful glow surrounded her hands and began to creep down the rest of his body, outlining his naked form in the soft light of the room. Aldoa’s eyebrows drew down in concentration and the glow grew brighter. Tinaya stepped closer until she was pressed against the tub, drawn by the magic’s beauty and what it was slowly doing to Quentin’s body. The swelling was going down quickly and the redness and bruising were vanishing as well. The brand on his face began to sink and the folds of burnt flesh shriveled up and smoothed out. Color came back into his cheeks and his breathing regulated.
A thump from out in the hallway made her glance up. Several of the servants shrieked with horror as a massive beast came ambling slowly into the room, snarling. Its pink flesh seemed to move on its own and all about its face were hideous eyes watching everyone from all directions. As it spotted the bathtubs, a hungry look over came its face and it began to saunter over; its claws clicked loudly on the stone floor. Tinaya was unable to move; fear had frozen every bone in her body.
The beast walked slowly, but not with caution; instead it seemed curious as to the goings on in the room, and very interested in the tubs sitting off to the side. Behind the creature a soldier came running in, sword at the ready. He made as though to drive it through the beast’s side, but the many eyes on the creature alerted it, and it swiped one paw at him as a cow would swipe at a fly with its tail. The sword fell to the floor and a back paw kicked it out of reach. The soldier was still determined to stop the beast and bravely lunged forward to wrap his arms around it. His face contorted with horror as his arms stuck to the creature and the small things crawling upon its skin began to scramble up his arms. He screamed in terror as his body was quickly enveloped. He began to jerk as they wormed their way down his throat and into other orifices. He collapsed in a heap, and after a few moments he ceased moving. The beast stopped and turned its heads towards him. As it did, a see-through mist began to rise from the dead body and move towards the four-legged monstrosity as though it were being pulled. The creature’s body absorbed the mist and it turned its attentions back to the bathtubs.
“Death Hound,” Aldoa said with loathing. Her white-orbed gaze was fixated on the beast. “Eerich’s soul eater, covered in the souls it has taken.”
Tinaya watched the hound as it began to near her. “What do we do?” she cried out.
“Be gone with you, foul creature!” Aldoa said in a raised voice.
A blinding flash lit up the room and the hound yowled in surprise. But when the light dissipated, the beast still stood his ground, growling deep in his throat. Tinaya backed up, bumping the side of the tub where Quentin lay.
The hound glanced at her with disinterest and began moving towards the tub with Emaree in it. The witch squinted at creature, and Tinaya was unsure if the woman even knew what she was looking at.
“Damn the Dark Moon,” Aldoa uttered, and swiftly moved from behind Quentin to stand between the hound and the other tub. She turned sideways and thrust her hands into the water, her orb-like eyes growing brighter once again.
“You will not take this one,” she said angrily.
The beast snarled and snapped its jaws at her, clearly annoyed by her presence but not threatened by the goddess either.
“Do something, Aldoa!” Tinaya said. “Kill the monster where it stands!”
Aldoa spoke without breaking eye contact with the hound. “I am unable to kill when I am not endangered. The hound is not after me.”
“Then protect us! You are a goddess, not a mere mortal such as we are!”
“I have used much of my magic and strength saving these two once already,” said the goddess. “I have not the strength now to fight this creature. One of us will die this night if we should do battle, he and I. I am weak enough to know that the possibility of it being me is great.”
A knife whizzed through the air and dug in to the monster’s back leg.
“Not if I can help it,” said Brielle, limping forward with a sword in hand.
The hound whirled to face her, roaring angrily as the knife worked itself out of the beast’s leg; black blood seeped from the knife wound, thick and steady. Brielle twirled the sword and shifted her weight onto her injured leg in a fighting stance. She would not let this thing wreak its havoc amongst the wounded without a fight. Her leg throbbed, but she pushed the pain aside with fierce concentration.
The leviathan in front of her advanced, its moves calculated and unafraid of the tiny girl. A large claw cut through the air, and she dodged it skillfully, returning the favor with a sweep of her sword. The beast bellowed with rage as the edge of the blade sunk below the souls crawling on its flesh and penetrated its skin above the foreleg.
Tinaya looked from her petite servant back to the other tub. Aldoa may have been weakened by the use of her magic a little while ago, but she still had some left in her as she poured her magic into the water: the witch’s eyes were more open now, and the horrible slash she had her face was slowly transitioning into a normal mouth. As the helpless young woman in the bathtub looked at the hound in fear, Tinaya felt the folds of her dress move ever so slightly. She froze and looked down, afraid of what she might see.
The King’s brother was staring at her intently as he put his finger to his lips to keep her quiet. His hand finished extracting the dagger from her dress and he carefully pushed himself up and out of the tub, taking caution not to let the water splash and give him away. He stood next to the tub and looked over at Aldoa and Emaree as water began to run off his body to pool at his feet. The goddess had not seen him exit the tub yet; her white eyes were fixated on Brielle and the beast. Emaree, however, was watching him intently and gave a slight shake of her head. He gave her a half-hearted smile and winked.
He approached the hound, who was busy swinging a claw through the air once more at Brielle. The dagger he held was small and lightweight; he didn’t think it’d do much damage, but he would have to try. He continued forward, marking the beast’s offensive skills in his mind. His mouth curled up in disgust at the tiny souls scuttling over its skin and the eyes that went all around its head.
As soon as he saw the eyes, they flicked to him and the beast swiveled around to face its newest threat. It roared and lunged at Quentin, who feinted to his right, closer to Emaree’s tub. He swung the dagger back towards the beast as its gaping mouth neared his face and watched with gratification as the dagger pierced the monster’s cheek. It shook its head in pain and shock and backed up, nearly trampling Brielle before she could get out of the way. She rolled to the side and scrambled to get back to her feet as the beast’s cries reverberated through the stone walls.
A red fire erupted in the middle of the room, and a large man stepped out of it before the flames mysteriously vanished. He looked around angrily, his red beard and hair swinging this way and that as he surveyed the room and its occupants. When his eyes came to rest on the Death Hound, his face darkened.
“Who has done this?” His deep voice was not loud, but commanded the attention of every person in the room. His gaze ran over Brielle, and then over to Quentin, who was still naked to the world. The hound immediately went to the strange man and sat at his feet, pawing at the wound on its face and whimpering in pain.
Quentin glared in return, not knowing who the man was. Nor did he care.
“I asked a bloody question!” the man bellowed. “Who has harmed my hound?”
A hand squeezed Quentin’s arm, and he stepped back in compliance as Goddess Aldoa moved to stand in front of him. Her eyes had returned
to normal and she stood impossibly tall, proud…and angry.
Very angry.
The man looked at the goddess with a skeptical face. “Well now, who do we have here? The Goddess has descended from her mountain to walk amongst the mortals again, has she?” He clucked his tongue. “My, but it has been a while since my old eyes last saw you, woman.”
“If it had been forever before I saw your face again, it would have been too soon, Eerich,” Aldoa replied with a dry tone.
Quentin barely kept his jaw from dropping. This man was the God of the Dead himself! Uneasiness prickled at his skin as he realized the precariousness of their situation: two gods who apparently had a great disliking for one another in the same room where tensions were already high, and where a monstrous beast was stalking the wounded.
Eerich’s mouth started to lift on one side, but faltered. He reached down and stroked the Hound’s head; the animal peered up at him with something like reverence. The god’s mouth whispered into its ear and the beast vanished. Tucking his thick red hair behind one ear, Eerich brought his eyes back to Aldoa.
“Your pesky humans will pay for the damage they have done to my Hound. If not now, then in the very near future.”
“And will you pay for the crimes you have committed as well?” asked Aldoa. Gray light flashed in her eyes momentarily before disappearing.
He chuckled, a deep rumble reverberating in the enclosed space. “I pay for no actions, and I reap the benefits of the seeds I sow. I am not like you…she who hides from her own memories and cowers on her mountain like a troublesome mortal.”
Aldoa smiled. “You may think me a coward or whatever other word comes to mind. I have lived my life helping mortals on their journey through life. Now you, on the other hand…we both know the truth, yes? We both know that you are a monster.”
“Such words you use, Aldoa. I would think you were trying to hurt feelings that I don’t even have.”
“I speak the truth, heartless fool. Leave this place. You have no cause to be here now that you’ve sent your beast back to the Underworld.”
“I will leave when I choose,” he growled.
“You will leave when I say you will leave.”
The icy tone in her voice made Quentin look at her warily. He glanced down at Emaree, who was silently watching the drama unfold.
Eerich walked towards the goddess with a broad grin stretched across his face. It made him look insane. “Giving out orders now? Be careful of what you say. You are but a weakling, Aldoa. My strength far surpasses yours, lest you forget.”
“I am a child of the Parent Gods!” she said loudly. “Your strength is but a tiny speck in the sea of my knowledge.”
Eerich shook his head. “As much as I would enjoy standing here going back and forth with your childish comments, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”
Aldoa lifted an eyebrow. “Such as ruining the lives of mortals?”
“You know me so well. Farewell, Aldoa…and stay out of my affairs. You have no standing in the world as it is now. Best you go back to your mountain and hide in your cave.” He glared at Quentin and Brielle briefly. “I will see the both of you sooner than you would like.”
Quentin stepped up, unafraid. “See me now, Eerich.”
The god looked at him with a hint of surprise. “Well now…you’ve got balls. I’ll be sure to feed them to my Hound while you watch.”
His form evaporated into the night air, but no one moved for several moments.
Feelinga squeeze on his hand Quentin saw that Emaree was trying to get his attention. Her eyes were drooping, and her skin was now a pasty white. His eyes trailed over her abused body, mentally taking in dozens upon dozens of scars that stretched across every bit of her malnourished body. Her legs were the worst by far: they were so badly covered in burn marks and mutilations that it was no wonder the poor thing couldn’t walk. The witches had tortured her to the brink of death and held her there mercilessly.
His hand traced the slash that blended in with her mouth; her healing had halted before this had been completely reversed. Her eyelids fluttered as she gazed up at him with glassy eyes; as he watched, they slowly began to close and her breaths began to falter.
“Aldoa…Aldoa, I think we’re losing her,” Quentin said.
The goddess spun around and knelt beside the tub, thrusting her hands into the water to place them on Emaree’s heart and stomach. “Stay with us, child,” she murmured, and once again her eyes began to glow until Quentin had to turn his head away from her. Beads of sweat formed on her brow and her breathing became labored.
It took many long, deathly silent minutes before anything happened. A small gasp from Emaree’s lips at first alarmed Quentin, but when he saw that her breathing was now slow and steady and color was returning to her face, he relaxed. The Goddess of Healing did not move from the side of the tub and worked her magic ceaselessly as Emaree’s condition improved little by little. Quentin could see the larger scars shrinking, and the old ones had already faded away. Her mouth had returned to normal and the nasty slit had disappeared from her now unmarred face. Even her hair looked better: what was once a dingy nest of stringy mouse-brown hair was now a healthy, thicker mane of a slightly lighter color.
When at last Aldoa stood up, she wavered, and Quentin and Tinaya rushed over to help steady her.
“She will live now, but this has drained my powers. If I do not rest I will slip into the Coma of the Gods, from which I may never wake. Take me someplace that I may rest undisturbed.”
Tinaya motioned for several servants to come and help the goddess. “Take her to my chambers and lay her down to rest. She is weak so do not leave her side, or I will have you skinned alive. Is that clear?”
They nodded in response and took her place under Aldoa’s arm, half carrying the goddess out of the room.
The Duchess turned to Quentin and looked him up and down. “Are you going to stay unclothed or shall I have someone fetch something for you to wear?”
Quentin’s cheeks colored. “I’ll gladly take some fresh clothes, milady. And do you know what became of my robe, by chance? The white one that I always wear?”
Brielle spoke up. “I saw them toss it to the side over there with the rest of your clothes when they brought you in.” She gestured towards a corner of the room where a heap of clothes sat.
“Much obliged,” he said.
The white robe lay underneath the other clothes and he fished it out carefully. A sharp prick of a mirror shard reminded his fingers of what was inside his pocket. He set the robe aside as a servant brought him fresh attire to don, and then put the robe on over it. When he turned back to Emaree he saw that Brielle had grabbed a stool and was sitting beside the witch, washing her body carefully with a small lump of soap. Emaree’s eyes stayed shut, and he was pretty sure that exhaustion had finally set in for her. When Brielle had finished, Quentin had her hold a towel while he lifted Emaree out of the tub. Together they dried her off and worked a shift over her head for her to wear.
“Where can I take her so she can rest?” he asked the Duchess softly.
“I’ll take you to the room the Queen stayed in,” she said.
“Silvia…” he muttered, remembering something. “Where are the stones that I was wearing when I returned? Tell me that you have them!”
Tinaya tilted her head to the side. “And if I say that I do not?”
Anger flared up within him. “I risked my life to go after those stones and retrieve them from the enemy for my King and Queen. I brought them back—I know they’re here! Now who has taken them?”
Relax,” Brielle said. “When I was helping the soldiers bring you back I didn’t want the necklaces to get stolen from you.” She reached into a satchel on her side and brought out three sapphire necklaces.
Quentin’s entire body nearly went limp with relief. He’d been so consumed with the Hound and the God of Evil that he hadn’t noticed his necklace had been missing as well. “Thank you, milady
. That means a great deal to me. Are you well enough to walk with me to take Emaree to rest?”
Brielle nodded and together they left the other servants in the room, with Emaree being carried in Quentin’s arms. Tinaya escorted them personally to the room where the Lystian Queen had stayed.
Quentin laid the unconscious woman down on the bed and covered her with the soft satin sheets which adorned it. He bent over and kissed her forehead softly, as she slept. Then he stood up and strode over to the couches, sitting down on one and taking the stones from Brielle. He placed all of them over his head and held the stones in his hand. Emotions swelled within him and he took a moment to gather himself. He fingered the blue sapphires, smiled, and cleared his throat.
War Against the Realm Page 13
