by J. F. Penn
The guard turned, his hand raised to strike her for impudence. Ari stood tall to face him, waiting for the blow.
“Enough.” The deep voice came from within, and Ari shivered in recognition. “She may enter.”
The guard paled and dropped his arm, pushing Ari forward to the door, keeping his eyes lowered.
Ari walked in, and there he was, the man she had feared all her life and dreamed of since the day she had run from this place, wounded from his Blessing. He stepped from the shadows, his wide chest bare and oiled emphasizing the tattooed Mark, the symbol of his domination. He was still magnificent, his height and strength giving him an advantage over any man who would challenge him in the pit. But there were more scars on his body now and touches of grey in his thick hair. This was a man on the far edge of his prime and for a moment, Ari saw that he was just a man who could die, not the eternal monster of her childish dreams.
“Ariadne.” His voice was a filthy caress, for no one but he had ever spoken her full name. “I thought you dead many years ago.” He stepped forward, his dark eyes compelling, and then his voice hardened. “Kneel.”
Ari found her body obeying him without resistance and she fell to her knees as he approached. His fingers lifted her chin, caressed her lips and then twisted into her hair, pulling it tight.
“Why do you return now, I wonder?” He tugged her head back, pulling a knife from his belt and holding it against the flesh of her neck. Ari’s heart raced and her pulse beat against the blade as she sent a desperate prayer to the Goddess. “And who is the traitor telling of your sister’s Blessing?” He stroked the knife gently over the delicate skin, raising a bead of blood that trickled down into the top of Ari’s dress. His eyes watched it as it ran over the swell of her breast, then he let go, pushing her roughly forward. “No matter, I will find out after the ritual is complete, for you cannot disrupt this sacred time. Tonight you will witness your sister’s torment.”
He snapped his fingers and from the shadows stepped three women, their bodies tattooed with serpents, their hair twisted into tight rings on top of their heads.
“Meet my Furies, Ariadne.” He started to walk away and laughed over his shoulder. “Did you really think I would remain here in my eyrie without protection? They were chosen from the death pits, the ones who remained standing after the Purge, so don’t imagine your survival skills are of any use here.” He turned to them. “Bring her.”
As the Minotaur strode away up a staircase, Ari started backing away from the Furies. She moved into a defensive posture as the women undulated closer, their bodies sinuous. She could see in their eyes the crazed dilated pupils of junkies, addicted to the drugs and violence that kept this city of ruined souls alive.
“I want to follow,” Ari said, still backing away, fighting to keep her voice even. Her eyes darted to each, judging their distance. “You don’t need to drag me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” one of the Furies said, her lips drawn back in a vicious grin as the three of them edged forward. Ari tried to block their attack but they were too many. A blow to the kidney opened her up for a punch to the stomach and she fell to her knees, winded and gasping for air. One Fury held her head up by her hair and another readied her fist to strike.
“Not her face,” the other said, her voice tinged with fear. “He won’t like that.”
The Fury satisfied herself with another gut punch and Ari crumpled in pain. Together they dragged her up the staircase, emerging onto a platform that perched atop the tower, with views of the surrounding ruined land. A cool breeze blew across the deck and the Furies raised their faces to the sky, drinking in the fresh air that was denied them in the depths of the stinking city. But they held Ari tight, their fingernails digging into her flesh, two of them with knives drawn. The sun was about to burn the horizon, just a touch above sinking, and as the last rays of fiery warmth reached them, Ari saw her.
Elyse was tied to the altar on the edge of the platform, with nothing but air between her and the Goddess. Her limbs were lashed down and she struggled weakly, her blonde hair spread out on the carved wooden shrine to his foul god. At the four corners of the altar were dark angel figures, but now Ari saw that they were metal sculptures, not real men. Those jagged wings had haunted her nightmares for half a lifetime, but now she saw through the artifice. It was manufactured by the hallucinogens the girls were forced to take, their minds corrupted while he took his malevolent pleasure.
The Minotaur stood on the edge, looking out toward the burning plains as the sun lit the earth with its dying ruby light. It seemed as if flakes of fire rained down upon a river of blood that weaved across the ruined landscape below, a breath-taking moment of beauty that Ari knew the Goddess had sent as a promise. He was reading aloud from the book of human skin, its patchwork of colours catching the light, transforming its curses into a parody of sunburst.
As he spoke the final words from the book, he lifted the great horned helmet upon his head, horns that Ari still saw in her fevered nightmares. The Furies gazed toward him, mesmerized, as his body was lit by the dying sun, his bronzed, muscled skin alive with fire, and Ari knew what she must do.
She spun out from the grasp of one Fury, pushing her away into another. As they stumbled back, Ari felt the bite of a blade into her arm as one of them slashed down, but she was out of their grip. Time seemed to slow as she saw the Minotaur’s eyes widen at the sound of struggle, and she saw human frailty there. He was but a man, lord of this nest of malice, but still only a man. Ari ran at him, her legs swift from the fitness of the Corps, the years she had spent training for just this moment. At the last second, she jumped, using the corner of the altar to give her extra leverage against his bulk. As his arms wrapped around her body, his roar of anger exploded against her face, and together they toppled over the edge into the void.
As they fell, Ari looked out toward the dying sun, into the very face of the Goddess, his screams of rage her final prayer.
@ 2013 Joanna Penn
Ebook design: Brady Type
If you liked this, check out J.F. Penn’s Arkane series, available at the Kobo Bookstore
