Mortal Gods (Mantles of Power Book 2)

by Benjamin Medrano

  Finally satisfied that her body seemed to be correct, Kitania picked up the clothing she’d been given and slipped into it. It was something like a brown cotton toga and had a clasp that hooked behind the neck. She suspected the reason the garment had been given to her was so she wouldn’t need the chains removed to put it on. Once she was dressed again, Kitania shook out her hair and took a seat, curling her tail up on the cot that was the only furniture in her cell, aside from a narrow shelf bolted to the back wall.

  “Pardon me, but would you mind telling me what color my eyes are? And whether they have slit pupils or round ones?” Kitania asked, looking at the guard curiously, hoping the woman would answer. Kitania was getting terribly bored.

  “What? Why does that matter?” the woman asked sharply, looking over at Kitania in obvious suspicion, though her cheeks were flushed. “Haven’t you had enough of flaunting yourself?”

  “I wasn’t flaunting myself. I was checking to see if everything reverted after the spells changing my body were destroyed.” Kanae corrected, smiling thinly in return, relieved to have someone to talk to. “It isn’t like I had any privacy to look at myself, and I grew up around succubi. I’m used to people wandering around naked. As for why I’m curious, my eyes are supposed to have white sclera, a nice modest purple for the iris, and round pupils. If that’s right, it means that my body is essentially back to what it’s supposed to be. I’m just curious.”

  “Oh. You… changed your body?” the elf asked, her suspicion turning to confusion.

  She was a pretty enough woman, Kitania thought distractedly, with blonde hair that had just a tinge of green to it, hazel eyes, and a tall, athletic figure. Considering the woman was a guard, the athletic part wasn’t a surprise, and neither was the leather armor or sword at her side. Or the whistle hanging from a cord at her waist. A second later, Kitania firmly stepped on her instinctive examination of the woman. After everything she’d been through the last few days, Kitania didn’t need to potentially cause more problems by flirting with one of her guards.

  “Yes. I was hiding from my family, so took the rather drastic measure of altering my body. I grew a few inches, changed my face and figure, changed my coloration… it was rather dramatic, on the whole. I had the spells embedded in my bones, so when I was…” Kitania paused, frowning for a moment, then continued in seeming calm that she didn’t quite feel. It distracted her from her confused emotions, which was helpful, but Kitania’s stomach churned a little as she thought about how she’d arrived. “Was torn apart by the defenses here, they were likely damaged, and I’m told that my bones were destroyed in an attempt to keep me from regenerating, which finished off the enchantments. I’m just trying to make sure they’re completely gone, as a partial shapeshift can be worse than a malevolent one.”

  “Oh. Your… eyes are what you said they should be,” the guard said, looking a little intrigued and repulsed at the same time, though she sounded more fascinated than anything else. “You seem rather calm about being hurt like that.”

  “It’s been a while since I was injured enough to fully regenerate, but I’m unfortunately used to it.” Kitania said, sighing and shrugging as she spoke, trying to play it off as being less of a shock than it had been. In truth, it wasn’t that bad, but the loss of Isalla, Rose, and everything else… that was a shock. “It was painful, briefly. Much like the other two dozen times I can recall offhand. After a certain point, I grew mostly numb to the experience, since most of the time I lose consciousness after a bit.”

  “Really? What was the worst one you remember, then?” the woman asked, and Kitania couldn’t help smiling thinly at the woman’s rapt expression. She didn’t really blame the woman for asking, as she supposed it’d be morbidly fascinating to most people.

  “I don’t really want to talk about them much, but I suppose it’d be a close run between being caught in a rockslide, mostly waking up afterward, mind you, and the time I got hit by a ballista,” Kitania mused, shaking her head slowly as she thought about the incidents. Neither experience had been pleasant. “There are others that were worse, but they generally led to unconsciousness far more quickly. Like the other day, I remember my shield breaking, some pain, then everything went black. It was very, very quick.”

  “Considering the power of the defensive formations, I’m unsurprised,” a man interjected levelly, and Kitania blinked as the source of the voice stepped into sight.

  The guard quickly stood and saluted, placing a clenched fist against her chest. “Captain!”

  Kitania studied the man as he stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as he studied her in turn. The elven man was of modest height, only an inch or two taller than Kitania was, and he had reasonably broad shoulders and looked quite fit, at least for an elf. He was wearing a simple chain shirt, leather breeches, and a surcoat that was green with gold trim. Kitania wished that she could identify which kingdom he might be from, but the number of elven kingdoms that used green and gold was far too large for her to have a clue, especially after the centuries she’d spent in the hells. The man had brown hair and eyes, and was reasonably handsome, in her opinion. Not that she suspected he’d have any interest in her, considering the barely concealed loathing in his gaze. He also had a hand on the sword hanging from his belt, which didn’t bode well for her.

  “So you’re Kitania, are you? You’re in much better shape than you were the last time I visited,” the man said at last, then glanced at the woman as he added, “At ease.”

  The woman relaxed somewhat, though she didn’t sit again. For her part, Kitania smiled thinly, not happy about the man’s attitude. It didn’t bode well for her future when she compared it to the ambivalence of the guards. “You must have heard my name from Maura. I’m not surprised that I wasn’t in good shape, though. If my body is destroyed, from what I’ve heard, it generally takes three days or so to put itself together again. I’ve never seen it, obviously, but I’m told it’s rather disgusting to watch.”

  “That’s an accurate description,” the man agreed, pausing for a moment, then said, “I am Lord Commander Hanrith Northwind, Captain of the Royal Guard. Do you possess a surname?”

  “Not one which I care to acknowledge, no. I wasn’t given one at birth, and my family considered calling me the Undying, but decided that making it obvious that I couldn’t be killed wasn’t a good idea,” Kitania said, then paused, considering before adding, a bit reluctantly, “I have gone by Darkshade before, though, so I suppose you might consider that my surname.”

  “I see,” Hanrith said, still watching her, then asked, “Why did you intrude into My Lady’s palace?”

  “I didn’t, or at least I didn’t intentionally intrude,” Kitania replied, frowning abruptly as she looked at him, wishing that they’d at least tell her where she was. It made her a little angry, but she didn’t see how refusing to answer questions would help, so she continued. “I’ll have you know that I was scouting around my home after someone set off wards I’d set, and then I was ambushed by angels. I’m rather skilled at defensive magic, and was doing tolerably well, at which point they decided they’d had enough. They shot me with an arrow that pierced all my shields and armor, then it teleported me into the courtyard where I set off your defenses. Tell me, do you honestly think a single demoness with modest gear would intentionally teleport into the courtyard of a goddess? I can’t imagine anyone being quite that foolish.”

  “Ah, but that would be a likely story, since the wards redirect anyone who attempts to teleport into the palace to the courtyard,” Hanrith retorted, smiling thinly as he added, “Also, there wasn’t enough left to even be certain of what gear you might have had. Mostly scrap metal was scattered over the area, along with a few pools of melting steel.”

  Kitania winced, shaking her head slightly as she muttered unhappily, surprised at how much the loss of her gear hurt. “Really? Brimstone. I had that armor and sword for over five hundred years… I hoped at least the sword would’ve survived. As to the question
of the teleportation… what else can I say? It’s the truth, so it’s not like I’m going to have any other answer. I don’t even know where I am, aside from in the mortal world. I’m guessing rather far from Hragon or Zintas, but I don’t know.”

  “Hm. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to submit to truthtelling magic, would you?” Hanrith asked, and Kitania saw the guard shift slightly, looking rather uncomfortable. The troubled reaction made her think she was probably near the Kingdoms of Light, or whatever they were called these days. Those areas tended to have some issues with magic that forced people to tell the truth when they spoke.

  “I wouldn’t answer any question under magic like that, but I’d happily explain how I got here. Well, maybe not happily, but I’d do it,” Kitania said, shrugging helplessly as she looked at Hanrith challengingly, her frustration growing stronger. “If it gives me even a threadbare chance of getting out of this cell, or back home, it’d be worth it. I’m not sure if my friends survived the attack, even if I know we had others coming to help.”

  “Interesting,” Hanrith said, then fell silent, watching her curiously. After a few moments, he smiled thinly. “Well, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait for now. My Lady is the one who will make any decision, and she’ll make it at her leisure.”

  “Fine,” Kitania replied, sighing and shaking her head unhappily. She hated not having any control of her life, so she grasped at straws as she asked, “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me where I am, or who she is?”

  “No, I won’t,” Hanrith said, then nodded to the guard, adding calmly in a tone that only worsened Kitania’s mood, “You’re not to tell her, either.”

  “Yes, sir!” the woman replied promptly, saluting again.

  Watching Hanrith go, Kitania sighed and murmured irritably. “Of course they won’t tell me. Just… typical.”

  Instead, as the guard settled down on her chair again, Kitania laid back on the cot. It wasn’t comfortable, but it was better than the floor.

  At least the food in the prison was better than what she’d had in the hells, even if the locals wouldn’t be impressed. Unfortunately, that did nothing to keep her from wondering what had happened to the others, or if anything she’d owned had survived.

  Holding back her tears was hard, but Kitania refused to let the elves see her cry.

  Chapter 2

  Estalia gestured to a seat, smiling as she gently spoke. “Please sit, both of you.”

  Standing in the same room as Estalia was incredibly distracting, Isalla thought, almost unconsciously slipping down onto the sofa beside Rose. The room was gorgeous, like much of the palace was, made of smooth, beautiful stonework, elegant wood paneling, tapestries and carpets with breathtaking designs… and all of it paled beside Estalia. She drew attention like she was the center of everything, and Isalla felt bad about doubting Kitania’s description of her mother. It took effort to draw her attention away from Estalia, but the memory of Kitania usually sufficed. Usually.

  “Thank you,” Rose said, slipping an arm around Isalla’s shoulders as she smiled gently at Isalla, helping steady the younger angel’s nerves, then turned her attention back to the demon queen.

  “You’re most welcome. First, would you care for anything to eat or drink?” Estalia asked, sitting in a chair on the opposite side of the table, one designed to let her wings extend comfortably.

  “No, but thank you,” Isalla said, smiling despite her worries, and she glanced at Rose as she added, “I had an excellent breakfast, thank you. The staff here has been incredibly accommodating.”

  “Agreed,” Rose said, nodding happily. “Even more than at the spire, in my opinion.”

  “They should be. I told them to do everything they could to make you at home. The circumstances may not be the best, but there’s nothing to be done about that,” Estalia said, and she sighed, shaking her head, her deep blue eyes darkening with sadness that was riveting. “I’m sorry we don’t have better news about Kitania, but I can only wait, much like you.”

  Isalla fell silent, looking down at the fine wooden table unhappily. It’d been four days since they’d reached Estalia’s palace, and only a day since they’d learned that Veldoran couldn’t find Kitania yet. The palace was fascinating in many ways, filled with beauty, and with numerous gardens filled with exotic flowers from each of the three worlds, along with streams, steaming baths, and luxuries that Isalla had only ever imagined. Even more startling was how she’d met humans, elves, dwarves, angels, and demons alike in the halls of the palace, almost all of them beautiful or handsome, and most of them friendly. Beyond the palace, she’d seen a large city of beauty below, and farmland beyond its walls, something Isalla had rarely seen in the hells. The only problem was the pall that Kitania’s absence cast over everything. How it simply felt like something was missing.

  “True, but… what of the prisoners? I believe that Qorr said that they’d be interrogated for information?” Rose asked, frowning thoughtfully. “I was rather upset with him at the time, but they might be able to tell us where she was sent.”

  The thought of the angels who’d attacked them made Isalla inhale sharply as her rage surged abruptly, rather than seething like banked coals. She forced down her anger hard as it tried to take over. She knew Rose was almost as angry with the angels as she was, and the two of them were determined to wreck whatever plot Haral and her mysterious patrons had in mind. Isalla had never felt such motivation to succeed before, which helped her focus.

  “I believe such is likely, yes. Especially since each of them had poison pills on them, and their leader had a spell in place that she or another far away could use to kill herself,” Estalia confirmed, her smile fading slightly, a steely look flickering across her face. “I had it removed, of course, but we’re quite fortunate that they were captured so quickly, or we might not have had any prisoners at all.”

  “But they were captured, so that means they’re an option, right?” Isalla asked eagerly, her anger at the angels subsiding slightly. If they had information that could help find Kitania, she might forgive them a little.

  “They are, but there’s a problem. I have to get the information out of them. I don’t believe in torture, and it isn’t even a reliable source of information, so that isn’t possible,” Estalia said, sitting back in her chair and letting out a soft, frustrated sigh. “I have several immediate options, each with its own disadvantages. I could have truth magic used on them, but that requires them to speak, and compelling people to speak while magic like that is in place is… difficult. Even then, you have to ask the right questions. That would make it difficult to get all the information we might want out of them. Why, their leader has even refused to tell us her name, instead spitting out curses at the hellspawn and traitors around her. Based on that, I have my doubts that it would work, at least not in the short term.”

  “That… does sound like a problem,” Rose agreed, looking troubled.

  “What are the other options?” Isalla asked, growing more worried now. She hated the idea of having information so close, yet not being able to access it.

  “The second option is something similar to what Rose went through. Coaxing them gently around to understanding that they’re in the wrong, and that they should tell us what they know,” Estalia said, looking at Rose calmly, and Rose’s lack of apparent concern helped reassure Isalla somewhat. “That isn’t without its disadvantages, either.”

  “It’ll probably take too much time,” Rose said bluntly, frowning as she added, “As much as you say the leader hates you and traitors, I suspect she would be difficult to bring around. Veldoran is likely to be a more reliable source of Kitania’s location, though not for any other information.”

  “Precisely, which leads to the last option. While it would be extremely effective and swift, I have some misgivings about using it,” Estalia said, frowning at them for a long moment, tilting her head. It took Isalla a moment to realize that the queen looked a little unhappy, and there was just a
hint of anger in her gaze.

  “Why is that?” Isalla asked, blinking in confusion. If it would get the information that they all wanted, she didn’t see why Estalia would be hesitating. Sometimes she felt the faintest resentment toward Estalia for how calm she was with what had happened to Kitania. Her unhappiness confused Isalla.

  Estalia studied Isalla for a moment, then spoke again, her tone calm and measured now, without any of the anger or unhappiness that Isalla had seen. “Kitania doubtlessly told the pair of you that I’m the Demon Queen of Desire. My mantle is the Mantle of Desire, and it is an unusual mantle. I’m the third member of my family line to bear the mantle, and we’ve studied what it’s capable of over the years. I am… the kindest of the line thus far, and I’ve generally avoided using the most dangerous of the powers it grants me.”

  “What do you mean, it’s unusual?” Rose asked quietly, sitting forward a little as her hand squeezed Isalla’s shoulder for a moment. Isalla could feel her own curiosity rising as well, wondering what Estalia meant.

  “Most mantles of power increase the strength and toughness of the demon who bears them, or otherwise increase their power in battle immensely. Mine does not. I have almost no magic, and all my personal power comes from millennia of training,” Estalia said, raising her hand into the air and making a fist, smiling thinly at the shock Isalla knew was on her face as Estalia added, “It has caused some others to underestimate my family before. However, that isn’t to say that my mantle isn’t powerful. It is, and what it can do is dangerous. If I weren’t so angry about what was done to Kitania, I wouldn’t even consider using it for this purpose, even if my mother would tell me I’m a fool.”

  “You’re… angry?” Isalla asked, almost surprising herself with how incredulous her tone was. “I haven’t heard you so much as raise your voice since we got here. I mean, I thought I saw a hint of anger in your gaze, but…”