The Goddess of Blood and Bone

by Nattie Kate Mason

  “Shall we return to the party?” Chiara asked sweetly, but to Thorn her words dripped with poison. “The musicians have finished playing. It seems I have missed all the fun. However, it is time for the King and Queen to begin the ceremony, so you’d best end whatever was going on out here and join us inside,” she prodded.

  Thorn took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to work out the building tension.

  “Very well, sister,” he gritted out, taking her arm in his own and leading her into the hall, leaving Agnes to trail behind.

  He would not let his anger get the better of him. He had a coup to help his sisters win. And so, the God of War began descending into his power, and whenever Lilith and Nushka made their move, he decided he would join them too.

  ~

  The banquet hall had quieted when Thorn and Chiara re-entered through one of the arched doorways. Upon the dais on the opposite side of the room, Archè and Aria held court from their thrones. The room filled with Deities and magical creatures hung on their every word as they praised Nushka, who stood beside their thrones. Lilith stood on her other side, her eyes strangely vacant.

  “…and so,” Archè continued, chest puffed with a sense of self-importance, “we welcome our daughter, Nushka, back to the Land of the Gods. Here, we are sure she will flourish and blossom in her new role, just as I am sure her replacement will thrive ruling over The Pitts of Moor. Ruling over Moor is a vital peacekeeping role that helps maintain the barriers between good and evil. We thank Nushka for her many eons of service in that position,” he announced, his speech oozing condescension.

  Nushka thanked the King of the Gods for his generous words, and the Ruler of the Gods raised his glass in answer.

  ‘Now is my chance to tell my sisters I have their backs.’

  “Excuse me, Your Majesty,” Thorn bellowed from the other side of the room, dropping Chiara’s arm and pushing through the crowd. “I have something I wish to say.”

  Thorn felt like an unwanted guest interrupting a wedding ceremony, but he pushed on. He had to show his sisters he was on their side before it was too late. He needed them to see that he cared. Fury burned in Archè’s gaze at the disruption, his fists clenched at his sides, but for the sake of maintaining appearances, he pasted a smile across his face.

  “Very well, my son. Make your way to the dais and tell us all how proud you are of your sister and how you can’t wait to take her place.” His words were a double-edged sword, his shoulders tightening in warning.

  The crowd parted for Thorn as he strode the last few feet to the dais and ascended the stairs. Archè resumed his seat atop the throne and beckoned with a flourish of his hand for Thorn to continue. Nushka titled her head at him but he ignored her unspoken question and instead addressed the audience who waited eagerly to hear what he had to say.

  Thorn inhaled deeply.

  “I would like to first thank my father for appointing me as the new Ruler of Moor,” he declared.

  The audience began whispering amongst themselves excitedly. His promotion, as Chiara had put it, was clearly hot gossip. He paused his speech until the room had quieted once more.

  “As I was saying, I could not imagine taking on a more important role. Being the God of War myself, it feels like I was born for the position.” He chuckled jovially through his teeth. “Who wouldn’t want to be banished to such an uninhabitable realm for all eternity?” he added with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. It had the desired effect. The audience gasped, the patrons stilling.

  Archè lurched from his seat. “I think you have said enough,” the King of the Gods sneered. “Let us return to our celebration.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Your Highness,” he agreed, before turning to Lilith and Nushka and offering an exaggerated bow.

  “If you are ever in need of my assistance, I will always be there to support you,” Thorn promised before snatching Nushka’s wine glass and holding it up for the room to see.

  “To Nushka!” he enthusiastically toasted. “May the Land of the Gods welcome her with open arms, just as they have done so for me!”

  Thorn pretended to drink deeply from the goblet, but not a drop passed his lips. Before him, the room of Deities, magical creatures, and servants, awkwardly toasted and drank with him, including, to his relief, the King and Queen of the Gods. And just like that, it was done.

  Whatever Nushka and Lilith had planned, the next move was up to them. He silently prayed that his sisters saw his offer for what it was; an alliance and a heartfelt promise disguised as a toast. He would help make the bastard Rulers pay for all they had done.

  War was coming… and he was ready for it.

  *

  24

  The Goddess of Blood and Bone

  Atop the dais, the Goddess of Blood and Bone saw her chance and seized it. Nushka’s powerful dark blood—the very same that ran diluted through Hyacinth—was capable of great things, including activating the potion on the High Witch’s behalf. A potion that now weaved its way into the stomachs of every Deity in the banquet hall bar Lilith, Thorn and herself. The God of War’s cooperation had been a fortunate surprise; one she could not afford to sneer at. She would ponder his motives later, but for now, she needed every ally she could gather.

  Nushka raised her arms ceremoniously above her head. Dark shadow magic began billowing throughout the room, urging the potion slumbering within the bellies of her enemies to nullify their powers and drain their strength. The room became a cacophony of sound once more as confused, frightened, or furious Deities watched the scene unravel before them. Someone in the room triggered an alarm as the audience—who were temporarily blinded by her dark shadow magic—called out for help from guards that were nowhere to be found.

  The Goddess of Blood and Bone, in a deep voice not wholly of this world, began chanting the spell Hyacinth, the High Witch of the wendigast, had composed for her:

  “Schediáste ti dýnamí sas, párte ti dýnamí sas.

  Draw thy strength, take thy power.

  Schediáste ti dýnamí sas, párte ti dýnamí sas.

  Draw thy strength, take thy power.

  Schediáste ti dýnamí sas, párte ti dýnamí sas.

  Draw thy strength, take thy power.”

  Nushka recited the spell over and over, entwining her dark magic around the words she spoke, sensing the rising magic stirring within the Deities in the room. Ancient words to activate the eons-old enchantment that Hyacinth had installed within the potion curling through the veins of each of her foes. A variation of the potion that Hyacinth had used upon her own clan many centuries ago in a forest full of wendigast, who had danced daringly around bonfires beneath a full moon.

  As the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s chanting built, dark shadows billowed from the King of the Gods who launched his power upon Nushka, assaulting her with his own dark magic. The essence of the ether lashed at her in the form of shadow whips. Distracted by the lashings she fended off with her own powers, she did not notice the King’s shadows creeping along the floor subtly edging their way towards her.

  Nushka’s power stuttered as she choked and gagged on snakes of dark wind that climbed her body and funnelled into her mouth, drawing the air from her lungs. Her vision blurred as the oxygen and life was drained from her. Archè sent a cyclone of wind pummelling into her side knocking her to the ground.

  A torrent of dark wind lashed at her from all sides like sharp knives. All the while the essence of darkness sucked the air from her lungs. Nushka panicked, her body thrashing about at the King’s endless assault. Drawing upon the dark power she had been funnelling from deep within over the previous days, her magic exploded in wave of blessed relief, pushing the Kings shadows back. The pressure that had swelled within her eased at the expulsion of so much power.

  A shield of shadow wind snapped into place around her after the last of the King’s power was expelled from her lungs. Hunched on her hands and knees Nushka gasped for breath. Her vision slowly cleared.
<
br />   Panting, Nushka resumed her chants as she sluggishly pulled herself to her feet. Wounds peppering her body caused her to hiss as she rose. She had to diffuse the King’s powers or else all would be lost. The King lashed at her shield with everything he had. He did not hold back. With each fresh assault of the King’s power the barrier shuddered and weakened. It would not hold out for long against Archè’s full strength. The King of the Gods lashed at her with all he had, trying desperately to break through the shield and bring the Goddess down. He would do whatever it took to destroy her and keep his crown.

  Drawing up another well of power, The Goddess of Darkness retaliated, thrusting a fierce wave of infernal power at the King. Her aim was perfect and the effect of her strike was devastating. Archè pummelled into a nearby column before slumping to the ground. The King shuddered in pain, his eyes flaring widely as his powers began to finally dissipate.

  ‘Thank the stars,’ Nushka thought as she chanted more fiercely now, eager to bring down the King.

  With the last dregs of Archè’s power, he opened a portal beside him leading to a pocket realm where his guards were gathered, ready to protect and serve.

  Nushka had wondered where he had kept the winged warrior legion all this time; had wondered why she had not seen any of the guards in attendance during their short stay. It seemed her father had a contingency plan in place. Unfortunately, she would had expected nothing less from the King.

  With her protective shield of shadow magic wrapped securely around her, and the chant now finally complete, Nushka lowered her arms. She grinned, sharp teeth gleaming in feral delight, her hair a writhing beast behind her. One by one she beheld each Deities’ light dimming from within, their auras flicking out like candles, until they appeared wholly mortal, sapped of their giftings and power. Many had grown cocky over the years, deeming combat lessons beneath them, becoming completely reliant on their powers. It was those same immortals that now stood dumbfounded and completely defenceless.

  For the first time in her awfully long existence, Nushka beheld shock in the King and Queen’s faces as they too were rendered completely powerless. Aria’s usually radiant aura of light was completely muted as she cowered behind her throne.

  Streams of pterocentaur, with the torso and upper bodies of an immortal and the lower body and wings of a pegasus, cantered through Archè’s portal, wings tucked in tight, their weapons poised and ready to attack. With an eruption of power, Nushka opened an immense portal between her and the approaching winged warriors, unleashing all manner of wicked creatures upon the hall. It was time for her dark army to make their grand entrance.

  Deities were launched into the air, bound by vines that miraculously descended from the ceiling at the wendigast witches’ commands. Hyacinth herself led the charge, clad in leather armour that she so rarely wore. Stunned Gods and Goddesses alike were bound with tree roots that emerged at the High Witch’s summons, snaring their limbs and pegging them forcefully to the ground.

  Deities close enough to the staircase at the far end of the hall fled, heading for the lower levels, eager to escape the coming bloodshed. Thorn, much to Nushka’s fury, helped them escape, erecting a shield of impenetrable wind to protect the backs of those who made their dash for freedom.

  The pterocentaur legion shot the wendigast warriors with fire-tipped arrows. Some missed, but many found their marks in the bark plated clothes, felling many of the witch tree spirits in a single hit; their bodies erupting into flames. Lilith raced across the hall, sending her shadow magic spearing for the King’s warriors—not to eliminate them, much to Nushka’s disgust—but simply to incapacitate them. It seemed Ilbis had not been exhaustive enough with his gifting when he had altered her sister’s thoughts. Had he been fully successful in his task, Lilith would have not only forgotten about what had taken place in The Pitts of Moor, but also followed the order to abandon her empathetic nature and develop the same bloodlust that dwelled within Nushka. Regardless, she was a formidable asset to Nushka’s cause, defending her Dark Army ruthlessly with her incredible shadow gifting.

  A rogue winged centaur broke away from the herd and attempted to dodge between the ensnared Deities, weaving his way towards the dais, only to be met with Ilbis himself as he entered through the portal. Ilbis’s eyes flared, and the soldier stilled, entrapped in his gaze. The guard’s vision glazed over, his jaw slackening as Ilbis used his telepathic gifting upon the male, manipulating his mind and taking away his free will. Several heartbeats later, the warrior’s gaze hardened and his nostrils flared. Released of Ilbis’s mental grasp, he turned and galloped back to his own herd and unleashed himself upon his fellow legionnaires. Steel on steel clashed as the guard was forced to battle his own kind. He felled nine of his fellow pterocentaurs before a sword pierced his heart and he fell to the ground, never to rise again.

  The cruelty of the battle delighted Nushka as she fed upon the fear and violence emanating in the room, replenishing her strength, her outstretched claws eager to shred flesh and draw blood. Nushka’s shadow power raged, reaching out from her, seeking out her prey and attacking without mercy.

  Ilbis, dressed in ancient armour infused with bone, was thrilled to unleash himself upon the Deities and pterocentaur. The ground trembled beneath his heavy steps, an aura of power radiating from him. With his mind control gifting and combat skills with a sword, he was a force to be reckoned with, manipulating multiple Gods and legionnaires at a time into turning upon each other. Stripped of all control over their minds, Nushka watched as friends and family ripped each other apart into blood ribbons.

  Ilbis’s soulless children, the ghouls, descended upon the trapped and injured Deities like hordes of hungry monsters, feeding off their life’s essence. The Goddess of Blood and Bone relished in her enemies suffering as they walked a fine line between life and death. She marvelled at the blood bath drenching the hall, the smell of copper in the air. Only hours earlier, these same Deities had danced, entranced by lust.

  Pterocentaur and vengeful Deity alike, with unhealthy disregard for their own safety, took turns launching themselves at Nushka armed only with their weapons. Arrows aimed with skilled precision turned to ash as they met her shield of dark wind. Her wicked shadows, near sentient, now invigorated with renewed strength, lashed and sunk their claws into approaching prey revelling in the pain it caused.

  As winged warriors perished, more entered the fray through the King’s portal replacing their numbers. They fought fearlessly with sword, dagger, bow and arrow, motivated by their foolish courage to protect the entrapped Deities from further harm. Others formed a barricade near the staircase, in the hopes of preventing Nushka’s dark army from descending the stairs and attacking the now powerless immortals that had managed to flee the carnage.

  Nearby, one of the wendigast witches was attacked by a pterocentaur as she tried to retrieve a potion from her belt. She released an ear-piercing shriek as his sword impaled in her lower abdomen sending her thumping to the ground and the light fading from her eyes. One of her clan members bellowed in anger as she summonsed a vine from the ground that wrapped around the warrior’s four legs, trapping him where he stood. As he slashed with his spare sword at the vines, more ascended replacing the binds quicker than he could sever them. Out of reach of the witch, without a bow or other weapon to defend himself, the wendigast hurled a glass vial at the guard that shattered against his side and froze him in place. Fire burned in the witch’s woodland eyes as she beheld her fallen sister’s body.

  The warrior wrapped her gangly hands awkwardly around the hilt of the impaled sword and removed the weapon from her sister abdomen with one strong pull. The wendigast’s lip curled back revealing jagged fangs as she stalked toward the guard, her spider silk hair trailing behind her. With a surge of adrenaline running through her veins, spurred on by her need for revenge, the witch decapitated her enemy with one sweep of his own sword. With a flare of her elemental wind magic, she sent the frozen guard crashing to the ground.
<
br />   Mandigon led the edimmu next, following the last of Ilbis’s ghouls. Their species fed upon the life forces of the newly injured that the ghouls missed, as they weaved their way through the room, sparing none in their wake.

  Peuchen slithered out of the portal that had expanded in size to accommodate their larger bodies and wingspans. Towering over every being in the room, they made their way towards the balconies and launched themselves into the moonlit sky. As planned, they were to attack anyone who fled the castle. As the serpent dragons made their way to the balconies, their enemies were either trampled or squeezed to death, so tightly that their eyes bulged before their carcasses hit the ground with a thud. Peuchen fed on them eagerly, their sharp fangs dripping red.

  The chimera herd led by Zeri, entered the hall, bringing up the rear of the Goddess’s dark army. The portal back to The Pitts dissipated into shadow behind them. The vicious beasts pounced over the entrapped Deities still bound by the remaining witches’ magical vines coming to the wendigast witches’ aid.

  Zeri began bounding eagerly to their master’s side, which drew a small smile to Nushka’s lips. But, instead of praising Zeri for its loyalty, she commanded her pet return to the fray to fight. The last of the pterocentaurs numbers having finally entered the hall, the portal to the other realm dematerialised. Zeri huffed their annoyance, tail flicking in irritation at the dismissal. Reluctantly, the bhoot turned its four paws around and re-joined the herd, tearing through pterocentaur wings and limbs with each of its three heads.

  Pride swelled within the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s shrivelled heart as she watched her loyal pet tear through her enemies, rallying to her cause. She made a mental note to gift the pet with a few of her enemies’ fleshy bones to gnaw on when the fighting was over.