The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Mahi held steady. She took aim, and just as she was about to fire, she felt a tentacle wrap her ankle, and she was upside down a second later.

  The first monster had recovered and was now back on the offensive.

  You are the snake, she heard in her head as she was heaved up into the air. It was her own voice, but it sounded so much like her father. My sand mouse…

  “For Muskigo!” Mahi shouted, letting out her rage.

  She tucked her belly and bent at the waist. Grasping the beast’s appendage with one hand, she redrew her spear from her back and whipped it around. The tip of the tentacle sheared off, and Mahi fell. She landed hard on her back. Air rushed from her lungs, but she didn’t stop. She stood, stabbed, and stabbed again. The deck was now saturated with black ichor, slippery and sticky at the same time.

  One of her strikes landed just above the creature’s mouth, the other just under its eye. While it was distracted, she rushed back to the ballista. The second Current Eater loomed over her, having ravaged through the other half of the ship, about to devour her. She fired the ballista straight through its still-open mouth, the teeth already closing in around her. The bolt burst through the back of its head in a fine spray of gore.

  She released the ballista and jumped, her back bashing against the ship’s railing as the thing’s teeth clamped inches away from her. The sound of it wheezing was like a winter storm. That hole, causing the creature to be unable to draw breath, would eventually be its demise. But it wasn’t going down easy.

  Thrashing, it shattered more of the ship, and one tentacle collided with the ballista. The weapon broke free from its foundation and was cast into the sea.

  “No!” Mahi shouted, grasping futilely as if she were strong enough to catch it.

  To make matters worse, the broken ship was sinking fast.

  The other Current Eater recovered, striking again with its chained tentacle, and Mahi dove, narrowly avoiding the barbed metal. It gave her an idea, but she knew it might kill her.

  As the tentacle whipped back around, she grabbed hold of it, letting it land against her belly, luckily finding a non-barbed length. More air rushed out of her, but she held on, wrapping both arms over the top of the appendage. The chain rattled at the end, and she rode the momentum.

  When the tentacle reached its zenith, she mounted it like a zhulong. Then, she waited, patient until the time was right. Spotting the last link in the chain, she thrust her spear through the hole and drew the chain to herself. Grasping it tightly, she then leaped into the depths of Autla’s Inlet right before the roaring monster could drop her into its mouth.

  The saltwater stung her many abrasions in a way she hadn’t expected, at least not since becoming Caleef. The waters burst with green light as the nigh’jels quickly rejoined her like a living shield.

  Mahi swam, still holding the end of the chain. She stayed close to the Current Eater’s gigantic, squishy frame, weaving in and out of undulating tentacles, doing her best to pull them together. Thanks to her Shesaitju origin, she was a good swimmer. But not good enough. A limb bashed her back, and she shot down toward the monster’s rising mouth.

  Its teeth snapped at her, but nigh’jels rushed in and veiled her movements, allowing her to escape before being sawed in half. She pushed off one, rising with the chain, then hit a floating chunk of wood and pushed back down.

  The creature flailed wildly, slapping nigh’jels away. But it was too late. Mahi had half of its tentacles bound, and the other half were injured from battle.

  They reached and grabbed at her, but soon, with the nigh’jels still swarming it, disorienting it, confusing it, and blinding it to Mahi’s position, those too were disabled and caught up in the chain. The barbs dug in, staining the waters with inky blood. It looked like strings of yarn as it flowed through the green-washed waters.

  As soon as she could, she took the loose end of the chain and lugged it against her shoulder toward Babrak’s ship. She looped it around the prow, a carving of a large fish with a long, jagged nose.

  Nigh’jels lifted against her soles and helped her reach the deck. The ship was half-sunken but too large to be entirely submerged in the inlet. She retrieved another ballista bolt, dove, and used it to jam the chains around the stump of the foremast.

  Then she collapsed, lungs begging for air, stinging and heaving. From there, she watched as the Current Eater fought her web of chains. Unable to use its tentacles, its head was pinned against the prow. Wood creaked as it struggled, but the more it did, the more her makeshift pulley-system kept it in place. So long as the missile held, it couldn’t get leverage to pull free even with its incredible strength.

  Finally able to catch her breath, she rushed to grab anything else she could find to help keep the chains jammed. As she did, she looked back at the city. Many of the sea beasts had been caught in the inferno and lay screaming, a bloodcurdling sound. Others were torn apart by the chains and left dead. Others still fought with Babrak, rampaging through South Corner and her people. One could even be seen in the distance, climbing the southern walls of the Glass Castle.

  Between it and her, all her army and Babrak’s warred. She couldn’t help them, only watch; only hope that in that mess of smoke, fire, and killing, Bit’rudam was still holding steady. Buying time for the others.

  She held the chains, making sure the Current Eater stayed put, and she watched, waiting to see Torsten, or Sora, or anyone rushing toward the inlet with Nesilia as trapped as the beast before her.

  All she could do was pray that they would have as much success in their own efforts.

  Only, she didn’t know who to pray to.

  XLVI

  The Mystic

  Sora searched from side to side. When the dust settled, she was given a view of a familiar room. Glass caskets were propped up on all walls except the one they’d just broken through. Statues of Kings were toppled and broken. Drav Cra warriors caught in the collapse groaned.

  “My Lady, you came…” a voice rasped. Sora followed it, and moonlight filtering in through the devastated ceiling illuminated Freydis. She lay on her back, body shriveled as if she’d given every ounce of her blood toward trying to survive Sora’s onslaught. Barely breathing, but somehow still alive.

  “And you failed me, my dearest servant,” a soft, seductive voice spoke from the shadows. Sora knew it too well. “Don’t be scared. You will be avenged, and then, you will be replaced by one more worthy.

  A silhouette appeared over Freydis, but Sora couldn’t see Nesilia clearly in the darkness. She squeezed Freydis’ throat, lifted her to her mouth, and drank what little blood she had left. Then, she dropped the desiccated corpse to the stone.

  Sigrid’s form stood tall, her shadow facing Sora. Then she vanished.

  “Ah, my other body.” Her voice echoed through the crypt, cold, and heartless. “Such convenience, this place. It’s almost as if ordained by some… deity.”

  Sora groaned and extended her hand, slapping aimlessly, hoping Whitney was there. Alive.

  “Oh, sweet Sora,” Nesilia said. “Everything horrible that has ever happened to you was his fault, and yet you still cling to him like a lost child.”

  “Shog off,” Sora said.

  “He is rubbing off on you, isn’t he?” Nesilia laughed.

  “I killed your servant,” Sora taunted. “She chose you and failed. Just like you will.”

  “Where are we?” Whitney moaned, then coughed.

  “Such a good question for such a dumb fool,” Nesilia said.

  “Hey,” Whitney argued, but it was clear his heart wasn’t in it.

  Sora still couldn’t see him from where she was. He must have rolled into another chamber of the crypts in the slide. She pushed to her feet and stumbled a few steps. Between the fall and that immeasurable use of magic to defeat Freydis, her head spun, and her stomach ached.

  “We are exactly where we need to be,” Nesilia said. “So close to where I spent the last several thousand years, and where
my dear sister now resides, rest her soul. Oh, who am I kidding? She has no soul.”

  “You… killed Bliss?” Sora asked. “Your own sister?”

  “Buried, not dead,” Nesilia jested.

  “Good. Because in my experience, she doesn’t stay dead anyway,” Whitney remarked.

  “Bliss would have done the same to me if she got the chance,” Nesilia said. “But she never had any vision. I used her for her talent for breaking things apart, and now, she will watch for eternity as I reclaim my world.”

  “Oh, I do enjoy a pair of loving siblings,” Whitney said.

  “You’re a monster, Nesilia,” Sora said. “Maybe, if you weren’t busy betraying your sister, Freydis would still be alive. And you talk about others abandoning the ones they loved?”

  “Freydis was meant to stand on her own,” Nesilia hissed. “My world has no room for the meek.”

  Sora could now see Whitney, standing just a few meters away near the altar to Iam. He turned in a slow circle, looking for Nesilia just as Sora was. Sora took a few steps toward Whitney over crumbled stone. She embraced him.

  “It’s goddess killing time,” Whitney said, wielding his daggers.

  “Touching,” Nesilia said, appearing in the center of the room. Moonlight filtered in through a hole in the ceiling just above King Liam’s broken statue. It illuminated Sigrid’s body, almost glowing a soft silver.

  At the thought, Sora palmed her silver shortsword. The temptation to plunge it through Nesilia’s stolen heart was strong, but she knew it would accomplish nothing. Furthermore, it might cause Nesilia to re-enter Sora or even Whitney, and both options were out of the question.

  “Sigrid,” Whitney said, stepping forward. “Don’t you remember me? We had good times together with old Kazzy, no? Remember when you tried to eat me, and I screamed?”

  “What are you doing?” Sora whisper-shouted.

  “I don’t know.”

  Nesilia tilted her head like a dog, and in a heartbeat’s span, she had Whitney in her grasp. She lifted him by his collar.

  “The things my host once tried and failed to do would be as simple as breathing for me,” Nesilia said. She licked Whitney’s face, tasting his blood. Closing her eyes, she moaned with delight. “Sweet Sora, you took my beloved Freydis from me. It’s only fair he join her.”

  “Put him down, Nesilia!” Sora warned, squeezing the sword and circling around to her side.

  “If you say so,” Nesilia said before launching Whitney across the room with a single flick of her wrists.

  Whitney landed in a heap by the dungeon entrance. He didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound.

  “If you’ve hurt him, I will—“

  “You’ll what?” Nesilia stalked toward Sora. “What will you do? You gave up so much for that pathetic little thing. Love… You could have had it all!”

  “I could have had it all, and the best you could give me was a wrinkled old pirate?” Sora countered. “If that’s your idea of blessings, I think I’ll stick with Iam’s curses.”

  “Don’t you dare speak that name,” Nesilia said. Dust fell from the ceiling, and Whitney stirred. “Iam is gone. Caliphar is gone. Bliss is gone. All that remains of the Feud is me. Forgotten, just like you, but now I stand in victory over them all!”

  “Look around you. This is victory? Queen of nothing. Goddess of nothing.”

  Nesilia smiled, then turned back toward the center of the crypt.

  Sora took the opportunity to glance toward Whitney. She didn’t know if he was okay, but at least he was breathing.

  “Look at all of these pathetic Kings,” Nesilia said. “Your family. I wonder, did you tell Torsten who you really are? You think they would accept you? An outcast. A bastard? They’d hang you and bury you with your little secret.”

  “There’s a difference between you and me, you know,” Sora said, still not looking at Nesilia.

  “Mmmm. Is there?”

  “You were forgotten, but I never was,” Sora said, now focusing her gaze on King Liam’s casket.

  “Is that so?”

  Sora finally stepped down from the pile of stones. “You see, I was hidden. Protected. Because of love, I was placed in the care of another. Someone who would watch over me.”

  “So cute,” Nesilia said. “By him?” She pointed at Liam’s casket. “He loved no one but himself. Just like his precious Iam. He didn’t care about you. He only cared that no one finds out about you. With that, he would’ve been so disgraced.”

  “You’re wrong,” Sora said. “You don’t know how to care about anything but yourself. Freydis. Bliss. Me…”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Sora saw Whitney stand, still wobbly. Inside her mind, she begged him to stay down, to not try anything stupid. Where he was, in his state, he was safe. For now.

  “All failures,” Nesilia said. “All weak. Relying on others to clean up their messes.”

  “Freydis loved you.”

  “And I, her,” Nesilia said, solemn. “Which is why I’m here. Despite how she failed, the one who took her shall feel pain you can’t imagine… yet. I will take the one you love, and rip him to pieces.” Her sights landed on Whitney, and she flaunted her fangs with a hiss.

  “As always, you’re wrong.” Sora focused her remaining strength. Within her mind’s eye, she could sense the flow of blood through her whole body. She called upon its power, one drop at a time. She recalled how she’d seen Nesilia do it when she’d taught Freydis to burrow through the ground to slaughter the Strongiron dwarves. Sora used the memory. Though this time, she didn’t burrow, she called the stone down.

  Like it had happened in the Webbed Woods when she beat Redstar, Sora’s eyes shone bright white, light exploded from her, and her face twisted into unnatural forms. She could feel her pulse within her every fiber. The crypt shook, rumbled, quaked. It wasn’t like uprooting a small chunk of earth as she’d done to Freydis.

  Nesilia had no time to realize she was being buried once more until the stone above her collapsed. Statues were crushed. Caskets destroyed. The history of the Nothhelm dynasty was shattered in an instant.

  Sora knew it wouldn’t kill Nesilia. She didn’t need it to. She just needed it to buy enough time for their escape. To get to the Throne Room where the others would hopefully be waiting to carry out the plan. And she had no doubt now. She’d pissed Nesilia off enough that she would chase.

  Giant rocks crashed all around them. Mount Lister had now joined the battle in full, still reeling from whatever Nesilia had done with Bliss.

  When Sora reached Whitney, she grabbed him and pushed him toward the dungeons.

  “Are you okay?” she asked as they staggered through the archway.

  Even now, she could hear the stones behind her moving, Nesilia breaking through.

  “I was just about to retaliate,” he said.

  Sora smiled. “Come on.”

  “Fine, I suppose you can have this one.”

  XLVII

  The Thief

  Regaining strength, Whitney tugged on Sora’s hand as they rushed through the dungeons and back upstairs to the rear entry of the Throne Room. After her explosion of power to slow Nesilia, Sora seemed weaker even than Whitney. It appeared to be a struggle, her just holding Aquira.

  “Let us in, let us in!” Whitney shouted to the guards posted there. There were at least two dozen of them, with shield and longswords, ready to clog the passage.

  “Nobody in,” the lead one said, a former Shieldsman by the looks of him. It was impossible to know now that Torsten ditched their armor, but they just had a… look... like they thought they were better than all the other brave warriors around them.

  “Nobody in? I was just in there!” Whitney shrieked.

  “We have our orders.”

  “It’s the yigging dwarves all over again,” Whitney said under his breath, clenching his fist. Now it was Sora’s turn to gain strength again. He had no idea how she managed after all she’d done, but Sora pulled herself ahead
of him before he cursed the guards and their parents and their parents’ parents.

  “Nesilia…” she panted. “Is coming…”

  The Shieldsman’s eyes went wide. Others behind him muttered amongst each other in fear.

  “I-I’m sorry, b-but nobody gets in,” the man finally decided.

  “Now listen here, you sorry pile of steaming shog,” Whitney said. With her eyes, Sora begged him not to make things worse, but guards were his speci-al-ity. “The Buried Goddess is on her way here. Do you all want to be the reason that the world ends?”

  More muttering came from the group.

  “Do you?” Whitney went on, sticking his finger in the man’s chest. “Sir Unger has entrusted us with saving Pantego. And her, do you know who she is?”

  Sora nudged Whitney in the ribs, as she had all too many times in their relationship. One day, he’d tell her how her bony elbow actually really hurt, but only when he got tired of the pain reminding him they were finally back together.

  She drew her small blade halfway from its sheath, the rasp earning the attention of the guards. The elaborate, gold and jeweled hilt had a crystal Eye of Iam for a pommel.

  Whitney wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of showing the gifts.

  “We’re with Sir Unger,” she said.

  The Shieldsman looked back, then sighed. He stepped aside, and the rest joined him. “Don’t make me regret this.”

  “C’mon,” Sora said, wasting no time.

  Whitney stood on his toes and stared the Shieldsman straight in the eyes. “A shame, how far your Order has fallen.” He shook his head. “A yigging shame.” Then he followed Sora.

  “Yer all right, Lassie!” Tum Tum exclaimed, waddling over to hug her.