Letting the moment slip away, she swallowed hard and dove back into the thick of battle. Despite knowing how things would end, she pressed on. At this point, she focused on putting up as much of a fight as possible before they took her down. It was the least she could do for her family – give it her all, even in the face of inevitable defeat. Maybe it would provide them a small measure of comfort to know that she had fought to her last breath.
As the new crop of enemies closed in on them, the jarring sound of grenade detonations began repeating in regular intervals. The ancients could not fight beside Skye in this, but they could at least lend their supernatural pitching skills to aid her.
Skye kept careful tabs on Aiyana throughout the chaos. She had already decided that, at the first sign her mortal friend might be harmed, she would have to get her back out to safety. She had already worked out how she would respond. Preparing in advance proved a wise decision.
A flash of dark magic caught Skye by surprise. She turned to find a towering horror stalking straight toward her. The other creatures quickly scrambled out of its way as it passed, and she knew somehow that this utter monster was their leader. This beast was Teàrlach. He was the one responsible for the spell that had been cast upon her. He was – most likely – the one responsible for twisting Brandubh into the very first fògarach. And he was using the chaos provided by this battle to distract her, allowing him to get closer than she would have otherwise allowed.
Teàrlach was well over seven feet tall. He had a twisted, angular face and massive, curved horns like a ram. His eyes were milky white orbs. His body was emaciated – every rib was visible, and his stomach was sunken inward. Runes were carved deeply into his horns, as well as the flesh of his face, arms, and torso. From the waist down, his body was that of a satyr with matted fur and cloven hooves. He extended a hand and pointed a long, taloned finger at Skye while rapidly closing the distance between them.
She shuddered when he began speaking. It was as if his words were being projected directly into her mind. His voice was guttural and nearly deafening. While struggling to fight back the three creatures closest to her, Skye shook her head and tried desperately to fend off the mental attack of the beast.
Seeing the effect this latest, horrifying arrival was having on her friend, Aiyana turned toward him. She reloaded, then quickly got to work emptying an entire clip into the monster while backing toward the barrier. Her assault had the desired effect. Teàrlach cried out furiously and turned away from Skye. Unfortunately, he promptly redirected his ire onto Aiyana. He brought his hands up in front of his belly and hunched forward slightly as he began chanting under his breath.
Skye could sense the dark magic the beast was conjuring even before it began forming an ever-growing orb within his hands. That was all Skye needed. In a move she had already plotted out and somehow unquestioningly knew would work, Skye made a tight fist and visualized her power filling her hand. When she threw her hand outward toward Aiyana, she imagined her power forming a wall and pushing her friend backward with just enough force to carry her to safety.
Skye’s power was instantly absorbed by the barrier, but not before she had accomplished her goal. Aiyana cried out in surprise as she was shoved beyond the border with the rest of the faoil. Aiyana immediately got back to her feet and attempted to return to the battle, but Teàrlach was still determined to punish her for the interference.
“Ya-ya! DOWN!” Miko screamed as the beast drew back an arm to unleash the orb of power at her.
Miko was in motion before he had even a semblance of a plan. All he knew was that spell would definitely kill Aiyana. On the other hand, he would (probably? hopefully? most likely-ish?) survive the impact if he was in faol form. It took surprisingly little effort to transform midair as he leapt for her. He hoped he survived to recall later in amusement the expression of startled disbelief on Aiyana’s face when she looked up and found werewolf-Miko diving straight for her. As soon as he got a hold of her, he wrapped his arms and legs around her and tucked and rolled.
When they came to a stop, he brought her to the ground and shielded her body completely. It wasn’t until just before the orb of power struck, that he became aware of the wall of muscle and fur behind him. Taran, Ailean, and Ruarachan had transformed as well. The ancients had positioned themselves in just the nick of time to absorb as much of the magic as possible before it could reach the young pair. The four faoil cried out and howled in varying degrees of pain upon impact. Fortunately, dispersed across all of them, the spell lost much of its strength.
Teàrlach shrieked wrathfully. He took a few steps toward the group, intent on killing the meddlesome mortal woman and every faoil that stood in his way. He stopped, however, when he recalled his true goal. His milky white eyes wandered back to where Skye was still distracted by the numerous beasts attacking her. With a fearsome grin, he held up a palm and splayed his fingers, then waved his hand slowly toward the barrier. The dark magic that sustained the spell shimmered and became denser in response before fading from view once more.
Slowly, and with a lot of groaning, Taran, Ailean, and Ruarachan stood and shifted back to human form. They were all a bit worse for wear. Miko rolled over enough to let Aiyana up, but was far too sore to attempt transforming back just yet.
“Oh my God, Miko? Are you okay?” Aiyana asked worriedly once her shock had worn off. The air was heavy with the sickening smell of burnt fur and blood. She sat up and pushed her hair back out of her face as she tried to recover from being tackled. When she got a clear look at Miko, she forced back her instinctual fear of the immense creature he had become. Her fear for his safety was stronger.
“He’ll heal up fine,” Drostan answered distractedly. His attention was on the scene unfolding beyond the barrier.
Aiyana could hear gunshots, but they were followed by surprised shouts now instead of the expected death cries. The bullets were no longer penetrating the barrier. She could hear the beast speaking those guttural, spelled words again. She looked up to the ancients standing a few feet away. When she spotted the telling sight of Taran, Ailean, and Ruarachan’s entirely nude, somewhat charred bodies, she grimaced. “Jesus are you guys gonna be okay?” she asked as she climbed to her feet.
“Tha, my young friend, would take a miracle at this point,” Ruarachan answered in a heartbroken whisper.
Aiyana noted the way he and the others were gathered around their King, gripping his hands and shoulders in support. She spotted Ciaran crouched in front of them, gripping his hair and staring off ahead with tears streaming down his face. Aiyana fought to draw a breath. She forced her way to the front of the group and let out a strangled cry.
The creatures within the barrier had abandoned their attacks and formed a tight ring around Skye, preventing her from escaping their leader. Teàrlach was stalking ever closer to her, uttering spelled words that were clearly weakening her by the second. Skye was breathing heavily, blinking, shaking her head trying to fight it off, and holding her hands up preparing to defend herself physically. She would not be given the chance.
Teàrlach stopped a few feet away. With a final verse of chanted words, he extended a hand and struck Skye down with a blinding bolt of power. Skye crumpled to the ground as her men, friends, and clansmen all screamed in fear and impotent fury.
The beast turned and studied his audience with a wide, terrible grin. When he spotted the look of devastation and vehemence on Taran’s face in particular, that grin only grew wider.
“Ohh….” Teàrlach gasped in delight. “Is she your woman, Warrior Lord?” he taunted in ancient Gaelic. “Had I but known, I would have drawn her torment out ever so much longer for your eyes.” The beast held Taran’s gaze as he stepped forward and reached down for Skye. Gripping her by the arm, he violently hoisted her limp body up off the ground and held her out for inspection.
Taran and Ciaran both fought to charge at the barrier. Knowing the act would only prove fatal for them, their clansmen worked together to
hold them back.
“No matter… I shall see to it that she suffers in a manner befitting her bond to you before the end.” His thin lips trembled with hatred as they curled back, baring his rotten, jagged teeth as he spat, “I will carve her power out of every single bone… every organ… every inch of flesh while she lies paralyzed. I will keep her utterly, inescapably, horrifyingly awake for every second of torture. I owe you at least that much,” the beast growled.
Without warning, he abruptly flung Skye over his shoulder. Before she hit the ground, several of the winged abominations swooped down to catch her body. They screeched as they flew off in the direction of the cave.
Taran could not even speak past his rage and terror before the beast disappeared in a flash of dark magic, off to the cave to carry out his vile work.
16: Gone (So Very Far Away)
Skye came to consciousness slowly, her eyes gradually focusing on a strangely colored section of rocks far off in the distance overhead. She squinted as she tried to recall where she was and what was happening. She was too exhausted to even feel the pain at first. Her own groans and whimpers were what first clued her in that something was very wrong. Movement off to her side caught her notice. Her eyes rolled around uncooperatively for several seconds as she struggled to focus. As soon as she succeeded, she was instantly wide awake and fighting.
The horrid creature hunched beside her face screeched and bared its fangs so close that she could feel its fetid breath on her cheek. Skye quickly discovered in rising terror that she could not move her arms or legs. Her attempts to break free only resulted in the chillingly familiar sound of jangling chains and the biting pain of restraints.
She glanced around herself in panic, finding that the winged abominations were all crowded around the stone altar she was chained atop. It took her a moment to recognize their gurgles and grunts as speech. When she listened carefully, she found that they were all speaking quietly in Gaelic. These were the Droch-draoidh. These… things. What she had fought outside had been their unwilling creations – cannon fodder, nothing more. But these were the willing. The followers of Teàrlach. The fact that they had all been mortal men at one point was beyond belief. Who would do such things to themselves in the pursuit of power?
Teàrlach – the most altered of them all – gripped her by the jaw and roughly turned her face to the side so that she was looking straight up at him. She could not understand his words, but she caught Taran’s name. She also caught the obvious purpose for the vicious-looking tool in his clawed hands.
A petrified sob escaped her. It was the first of many. Tears flowed freely from her eyes, down her temples and into her hair. The fact that all of her fighting had led her right back to this – to a torture chamber at the hands of a monster – was beyond obscene in its cruelty.
With a hateful grin, Teàrlach snarled something in a tone dripping with venom before bringing the tool down into her stomach with such force, it nearly pinned her to the stone altar beneath her back. Skye shrieked in agony. Her voice echoed through the cave and beyond as the Droch-draoidh all began chanting in unison. When she tried to thrash in place, the beast’s dark magic covered her body like a second skin and squeezed until she could not move a muscle. She sobbed harder as the dueling sources of pain intensified. The dark magic seared her flesh, burning it away completely in several places. The tool delved deeper and deeper into her gut, exploring and slicing as it went, searching for something.
Through the maddening level of pain, she wondered vaguely if this beast believed her power was like a gem hidden inside. Something he could simply carve out and take. Wait, was it like that? Was she like those toy trolls from her childhood with the little gems on their bellies – only hers was on the inside? Would the beast pry out a little pink star or green heart and she would die?
Hearing the unhinged direction her thoughts were taking, she shook her head. She was losing it. If she lost it now, she was done. This beast would win.
Strangely colored rocks.
Strangely colored rocks.
Strangely colored rocks.
Where? Where? Where?
WHERE?
Her eyes frantically searched the cave ceiling overhead until she found it. She used the rocks as her focal point and tried to block everything else out. The pain. The fear. The exhaustion. Just enough so that she could think clearly. She could not move her body. She could not lift a hand to try and strike the beast down with her power. Even if she could, she knew it would not work. The barrier prevented her from using her power against them… But it did not stop her from using it in other ways.
She gritted her teeth and cried out as the tool was removed, then brought down into her chest with just as much force. Her agonized screams echoed out into the night, but she could not attempt to hold them back – not even for the benefit of Taran and Ciaran off in the distance. Her eyes bulged, and vision tunneled in response to the pain.
THINK, DAMN IT, OR
YOU WILL DIE HERE!
She berated herself to find a solution. She could not harm the beast or his minions. She could use her power to effect Aiyana, though… Could she use it on herself? What could she use it to accomplish? Could she force herself through the barrier? Or, at least, get back to the barrier’s edge so that her clansmen could try and help her? What did she NEED? What did she need her power to DO? She recalled Ruarachan’s dire warning, his uncharacteristic directness and the fear for her that had been plain in his eyes. She clung to his solemn words, ‘…find a way to get away from them…’ Closing her eyes tightly, she screamed in her mind:
TAKE ME TO MY TRINITY!
FIND A WAY!
The entire world erupted in white light as her power rushed from her body. She watched the creatures shielding their eyes and falling backwards away from her before she lost the ability to see. She could hear her own visceral scream reverberating out of the cave and carrying on for miles in every direction.
Beyond the barrier, everyone was instantly on alert. The wind howled and the ground trembled as a beam of Skye’s white light erupted from the top of the cave, shining up into the heavens like a beacon.
Taran reached over and gripped Ciaran’s arm as they both watched in alarm, neither knowing whether this was a good or bad thing. Was Skye fighting back? Or had the beast somehow unleashed her power? Did that mean she was dead?
For Skye, it suddenly felt as if the entire world dissolved around her. She lost all sensation. All she could feel was power and chaos and light. She was caught in a riptide with no control and no sense of direction. She was tumbling and flailing through time and space. Her soul shrieked in silent terror as her descent went on and on and...
Ciaran dropped to his knees, screaming until his lungs gave out. He clutched his chest and wept inconsolably at the unmistakable sensation of loss.
“Can ya hear her? Can ya feel her?” Taran demanded as he struggled to get his brother to meet his eyes.
After several moments, Ciaran finally tearfully met Taran’s gaze. “She’s… gone, brother,” he whispered brokenly. “I don’t know where… I don’t know what it means… but our Skye is just… gone.”
Taran sank back onto the ground in response. He could not breathe. He could not speak. He could not hear the startled questions being asked of him by his brothers. He stared off in the direction of the cave as shock settled in.
All at once, and for a matter of mere seconds, there was silence. The perpetual rush of power, the voices of the spirits, and the flow of time were replaced by unexpected… nothingness. It was utter, serene peace.
Then, without warning, Skye abruptly collided with the corporeal world. She reeled from the return of physical sensations – the sudden feeling of solidity. Whatever she had just done to herself with her magic, she had no intentions of ever, EVER repeating the experience. It felt as if her body had melted away, as if she had shed her form entirely and become fluid or light.
She attempted to draw a breath but found herself
struggling to become re-accustomed with the normally-familiar act. She finally succeeded, only to realize in horror that the coldness which rushed into her mouth, down her throat, and into her lungs was water.
She was drowning.
Her eyes snapped open as her arms and legs thrashed in panic. Her fingers splayed wide, searching blindly for anything to grab on to. Somehow, someway, she was beneath the surface of an unknown body of water. She fought to get her bearings and gauge which way was up. The instant she had a good idea, she began paddling in that direction with all her might.
She broke the surface with a deafening, echoed gasp of air, then coughed and sputtered uncontrollably as she treaded in place. She fought to see her surroundings in vain before realizing that something was very wrong with her eyes. Her vision was non-existent. Recalling the sensation of light pouring from her eyes when she released her power, she grimaced realizing that she had burned out her own eyeballs with her latest light show.
Fucking groovy, she thought bitterly. There was nothing she could do about her blindness for now. She would just have to wait for her eyes to heal. And, oh yeah, try not to get dead in the meantime.
She fought to calm her breathing for a moment to listen to her surroundings. When she caught the sound of water lapping at the shore, she swam toward it. Once the water became shallow enough, she dragged herself up onto her hands and knees and crawled. She collapsed heavily on the rocky shoreline, fighting for air and coughing to clear her lungs.
Her head throbbed. Her eyes ached terribly. Her charred, blistered skin split open in several places due to the widespread burns she had sustained prior to losing her form. The gaping wounds in her chest and stomach had healed just enough that she was no longer at risk of spilling her (literal) guts, but they still had a long way to go before they were closed completely. Her stomach roiled as she fought to overcome a wave of dizziness.
Goddess Rising Page 23
