She’s taking me to Vetra. I was going to do this. I am actually doing it.
Confidence swelled inside me, until I thought my head might fill and pop clean off to float towards the jagged and smooth mixed ceiling.
‘Almost there. One more turn and the floor will dip, the cavern opening up to a larger main chamber. Tread carefully. Do not alert the others to our presence.’
Us. We were in this together. She knew things, knew without being told. My price had already been unknowingly extracted, and seeing it a fair trade, accepted. I understood all this, knew she’d given me the insight, the choice, and whether I fully understood had chosen. How? No clue. This was a curious place with even more curious creatures, things, residing, trapped within. I’d screamed in my mind for help, and lo and behold it had arrived, hadn’t it?
She couldn’t get to me here, my guide, not in the flesh. I was aware of that fact, too.
Could the petulant, masculine voice escape whatever confines it dwelt? Or was it, too, bound? Was that its sole purpose of seeking me out? To plead its case, extract its deal, before the fae queen herself could? Or to simply lead me astray?
Warned about oddities in the maze of Minos, never in a million years did I dream of anything like this. It baffled the mind.
Ever so quietly, I crept along. This was made easier by following Her Majesty’s instructions on how one should properly slink around the first time. Was she goddess of the hunt, as well? Because she seemed to have a vast knowledge of how one should move silently. Or sneak around… I’d heard of those tales, too. The cuckolded king’s promiscuous queen, and all her lovers. So many tales riddled our little town by the sea, fact bled with fiction until no one cared anymore and a good tale became simply that, a good tale—a story of caution.
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if her seeming imprisonment was punishment for her wicked ways, but didn’t. We sort of had that going for us, along with the majority of the village’s women. Not the adultery but the rebellion against society’s often times ridiculous standards. Copulation before marriage for a woman was a sin, yet a man could put it in whatever he so wished and it was all well and good, soul clean? Bull dung. And men wonder why women revolt? Hah!
I’m here, I thought instead, as if to speak to the feminine voice ghosting through my subconscious. The impatient, Now what? I held back, barely.
‘I’m afraid in order to free your precious sacrifice we’ll need…’ Something like a sigh, or the sense of one, flowed over me. ‘I admit we’ll need him for this.’
Him?
I’d been traversing winding paths, twisted corridors, following along to that softly soothing voice, avoiding spiked pits, arrow-like bolts shooting from small, thin holes in the wall, and large stones suspended by nothing (magick), dropping as I sped past—so much for a Watchmen’s immunity—nearly catching me a time or two, for what felt like hours—my companion knew this place like the back of her hand—and now we’d need a him. What did this him know that my mental mentor didn’t?
My toes bunched, cramping, ankles starting to grow sore where I stood, the trip catching up with me. I wasn’t the most active of sorts, staying closer to the house to do all the things Mother no longer could, but I was making up for it now. I hadn’t traveled enough to claim several hours, honestly, this long-feeling but short in reality jaunt, but it was the male voices just beyond this last strip of path that had me pulling back, suddenly perspiring like I’d been running for miles on end.
“Hurry! Hurry! No! Not there! There!”
Vartok.
How I longed for the purple light’s voice now instead of that snide-voiced walking bag of skin’s!
“Can you do anything right?! Fool!”
And now Barron.
Correction, two skin bags.
My heart suddenly pounded fiercely, an ache that made me wonder if it might burst. They held that power over me, even more so knowing they had my sister and what they intended to do with her. No matter how much I loathed them and their idiocy, their ignorance, it was tempered with an equal measure of fear. I’d go back and dose myself with dust to calm my arse down but my head-guest wanted an answer.
Terror filled me. Running away should be the last thing on my mind—I have help, from a magical queen, no less—I’ve made it all this way!—but I couldn’t help it.
Thankfully, my feet felt rooted in place, keeping me on my two’s.
Coward, I barked at myself, castigating my trembling arse for such thoughts. Shut up and do this. You can do this. You can!
Funny, how much I longed for the soothing calm of that stupid dust right about now. It had ended about a quarter of the way down that last corridor, completely reinstating my free will, offering me once more a chance to choose, but now I was half tempted to rush back down the path, scrubbing and thumping along the walls in search of a thorough dousing. I’d eat it, snort it, rub it all over my face, walk around looking like a sparkling lunatic fit for the asylum up north in Bedfordshire, whatever it took.
Sliding forward, peering around the corner as unobtrusively as possible, I spotted them. Gathered loosely in a circle, I found Vetra in the middle, huddled and afraid, her wide green eyes darted back and forth between Vartok and Barron, who were both sporting nasty sneers as they jeered.
A horrible feeling washed over me, a chill racing up my back. I hated what they were doing to her, seeing her like that, feared what more was to come. My natural protective instincts when it came to her rushed to the fore.
“You forgot it?” Vartok muttered. His hand thrust up and out, almost clocking Tomas in the head. “How could you forget?”
Tomas’ answer was a grunt and a shrug. He never was a being of many words. I truly would never understand why Vet entertained notions of accepting him, should he call to court. He never had, yet he’d attempted to make use of her, thinking she’d allow it. Hah! Secret shared kisses with him? I never understood it, would never, yet I was eternally grateful it never came to more. Yet another point against him.
Bet she’s thinking a bit differently now.
“Well,” the dark-eyed Vartok huffed out impatiently, “go and get it.”
Barron stepped back, choosing to stand off to the side while events unfolded. With a smug smile, he leaned against a powdery red wall, glancing at the torch in his hand absently, then to Vetra, before his gaze slowly came back to their appointed henchmen. “Idiots, all of you. Collect it. Tomas, take Remi with you. Be quick about it.”
Took the butt-wart this long to figure it out, did it? The village was full of dim witted halfwits. We were probably known for it, a warning to travelers: Village of idiots, enter at your own risk. May sacrifice you or loved ones to possibly homicidal or sex crazed bull creature. And the gap-toothed, balding, bug-eyed half shell of a human could add himself to the list while he was at it.
Did all the Elders look like fish-men, I wondered, complete with large lips, pinned back ears, and chalky, almost green pale undertones to their alabaster skin, or was it just me? We lived by the open water, yes, but this was a bit much.
“Be lucky if they manage to make it back here come morning,” Vartok muttered idly.
“Longer,” Barron wagered, a gleam in his eyes. That manic glint turned lecherous as it fell on Vetra. “I’m sure we could find things to amuse ourselves with...” his hand lifted, fingers dusting over Vetra’s cheek in what I assumed he thought of as a seductive caress, “in the meantime.”
Vetra, eyes wide, almost bulging, gulping, sucking in air noisily in half-panicked gasps through her gag, whimpered. Her pale, trembling frame tremored harder at the look the perverted donkey’s ass gave her, until her knees were knocking so hard she gave up and slumped to the ground. Hands tied behind her back, she fell in an ungainly heap to the unforgiving red dirt floor, grunting as she toppled to her side, her elbow knocking the wall.
“Don’t waste your energy on her.” Vartok reached out, cuffing the slightly younger clansmen with a resounding backhand.
That popping smack had me wincing. “She’s of no use to us tainted, you pox rotted, addlepated roué! You trying to ruin everything?! And are you going to offer your boil ridden, pustule infested body to the beast after you’ve ruined her, hmm?”
Barron snarled a curse but backed off. “Let’s get it done, then. The blood moons won’t be hanging about all night, you know.”
What did the blood moons have to do with anything?
‘Everything,’ the voice in my head admitted.
That tingling riding up my leg reached my knee, sending it buckling. It was so intense I almost hissed aloud, managing to hold the noise back by the grace of the gods and sheer stubborn will.
“Go on, lift her up, then,” Vartok barked.
Barron set his torch along a small shelf-like groove in the wall and did as Vartok bid, reaching out to grab a fistful of Vetra’s hair and yanking her to her feet, a nasty smile lighting his face. “Ready, darling?” He chuckled as his fingers tightened, turning, until Vetra was on tiptoe, eyes watering, shrieking through her gag.
‘The knife, now, Chosen, release him,’ the feminine voice in my head commanded sharply. When my hand went to my boot but hesitated, fearing what this him might be like, she hissed, ‘Do you want to save your worthless kin or not?’
Ve wasn’t worthless. My hand dove into my boot and I jerked the dagger free. Wetness tipped my leg, a thin slice riding up the length of my thigh in my sloppy haste.
A long sigh rang in my head as I clutched the second dagger in my hand, the queen’s in my left. Spellbound, I watched, transfixed as the amber crystal of the blade in my right slowly turned black.
‘About time I had a hand in all this,’ he said with relish. This voice was deep and a little dark, a hungry quality to it that made my tummy dip. Those bugs roiling in my gut turned to butterflies, a horrible fluttering that spread overtaking the empty pit.
‘Think you to free your toy and leave me behind?’ he murmured impassively.
‘No, and obviously I didn’t,’ the queenly voice hissed. ‘The fool thought to thwart me. Go around me, lead the girl astray.’
It was odd, as she didn’t sound nearly as putout as I’d have thought. She almost sounded, dare I say, impressed, beneath the seething irritation?
‘Oh, did he now?’ Amusement filled the man’s voice. ‘And to what end would that meet?’
‘His escape.’ Venom dripped from her tone.
Struck a nerve, her king did.
‘Not likely.’ That sweetly seductive voice suddenly grew bored.
‘Of course not! It’s the idea the little flea had thought to try in the first place! I’ll make him pay!’ she raged.
‘My bloodthirsty queen,’ the man purred affectionately. ‘How I long to be strung up on your rack and tortured most deliciously. Deliberately.’
My eyes bugged and I blinked. This was not going on in my head, not right now!
‘My warrior king,’ his queen purred right back. ‘Later.’
‘Hello!’ I shouted in my head at the pair. ‘Trying to free my sister before the nasty old men shove her in a Minotaur’s lair! A little help, please!’
‘Our Chosen is feisty,’ the king observed.
My face screwed up, pinching so badly I feared it might suck inward. ‘Your chosen is growing impatient.’ Mentally picturing myself boldly tapping my foot, I shook my head, sending my thoughts their way.
An uproarious laugh, ringing in my ears, erupted in my skull. ‘Ah, Ania, I think I like her. Well done.’
‘Down, boy,’ his queen muttered. ‘Lovely as you might find her,’ the sarcasm dripping from her condescending tone had me gulping audibly—I didn’t need her instantly disliking me right now, ‘she’s not for you. And besides, husband, you’re MINE.’
‘Always,’ her king swore. There was something to that one word, a wealth of meaning hidden behind it of which wasn’t intended.
‘Always,’ she repeated softly. Her voice hardened as she gave a cluck of her tongue, instructing, ‘They served their purpose, the dirty lechers, poorly as it were, effective in getting the offerings here if not against my rules. Self-serving and misguided, they think to harm the spare, a female, darling.’ Her tone turned to ice—it brooked no argument. ‘I’ve no use for such... such... swine. Play with my pets, will they? Dispose of them! At once!’
Vetra cried out, the sound ripping from her throat as Barron gripped one of the ties at top of her dress and tore it down her arm. One strap ripped, the other pinning her arm to her side, pulling at her tied wrists. His long, spindly fingers reached out, debated whether or not he should grab at her breast while the older Elder was otherwise occupied. Her breast exposed, Vartok at her feet, shredding the hem of her dress up her thighs until it looked no better than mine, he was unaware of Barron’s intentions.
“Hurry,” Vartok muttered, “we must ready her to entice the creature. I will shoulder the opening best I can but I am not certain of my strength against the lever. We’ll make a small space fit for her pudgy arse. You shove her in there and make haste. Whatever the beast decides, matters not, once he partakes of the flesh, in whichever manner, we’ll be free.”
Chest heaving, hands fisting a dagger in each hand, I saw red.
Ignoring the loony lovebirds prattling on in my head and their demented heart-speak babbling, I stood, jaw clenching, and made to move forward. They’d both die this night, I swore.
‘Dust her, darling, before she loses her nerve!’ The queen tittered with excitement.
The beast beyond the barrier trumpeted hard, a deep, inhuman bellowing sound that had me jerking, my gaze darting towards his prison. That sound, like an angry, demonic bull beast, echoed throughout the labyrinth. The walls trembled like a terra shake, the ground rocking as rocks tumbled. Clumps of long, pointed formations on the ceiling crashed down, startling all humans present, sending red clouds of dust bursting everywhere.
It was like a cannonball had been shot into the room, a thick fog of smoky dust making it impossible to see.
A wave of dizziness washed over me and I stumbled, but at the sight of that gold and bronze glint shimmering in the air I knew exactly what it was.
Unlike the other times, I was ready, inhaling deeply as it washed over me, a glittery baptism.
“Kill them. Make it hurt,” I growled out, my voice shooting out across the space.
“What was that?” Barron squawked.
“Tomas? Remi? Don’t just stand there shouting at us, you lackwits! Come! Help!”
Oh, I’d help, alright. My right hand lifted, eyes filling with unshed tears, and I whispered the words filtering through my brain. “Take me, my king, and show me the way, so that I might show them. Thy will be done.”
“Someone’s praying?” Barron spluttered, incredulous. “The ground may split open and someone is spouting nonsense? Where?”
Which is exactly what you should be doing, you right bastard, was my last fully coherent thought that was truly mine and mine alone as a sparking shock jammed its way up my spine. Crying out, I faltered, crumpling to my knees. My brain was on fire, a million zips and zaps wracking my spasming frame, heat filling my veins, from my eyes sockets to my pinky toes.
When I next opened my eyes, everything was different, tinted, tilted. I was here but I wasn’t. The King had officially taken the reins, but I was still here.
“Quit mumbling nonsense and find us!” Vartok demanded.
‘As you wish,’ the voice in my head sneered. Rolling my shoulders—our shoulders—he picked up our daggers and made to stand. Picking us up off the floor, we—he—took a deep breath and straightened. One tug on my cape and it was fluttering to the ground. My skin prickled, exposed to the cool air.
The daggers felt perfect in our hands, his ease with them practiced, fluid. Right. One pinkish white blade, one coal black. Hands of the Heart. His thought drifted towards me, the image of him holding them for the first time laced with triumphant pride. He’d forged these particular pieces in the fire
s of the Isles himself.
Lifting his—my—left hand, he cocked our head, ears pricking, and listened. Eyes narrowing to squint in the dust, he made a strange noise with our mouth that echoed back. Again and again he did this, a sort of scree-ing, until Barron’s tremulous voice chirped, “Bats?! We’re to fend off bats?!!”
Our arm swung, forward, back, forward, back, before pulling back and releasing. The dagger in our left hand sang as it flew, a whizzing, whipping, metallic noise that made my insides warm. The resounding pop and thunk and Barron’s sudden high-pitched scream had our joined selves smiling in unison.
Vartok started shouting, calling out for their minion idiots who weren’t there, in between snarling at Barron to shut the bloody hell up.
‘I love this part,’ the bloodthirsty queen cooed, giddy.
Outright grinning, though feeling rather sick on the inside, I mentally nodded eagerly alongside her.
Our boots moved noiselessly along the gritty dirt as we embraced the red dust masking us, a silent warrior on the hunt, fearlessly entering the fray.
Painful but swift, I thought hesitantly. Make them suffer but don’t prolong it.
He dipped our head in acknowledgment. “Thy will be done, Chosen,” my voice, deep and gravelly as if from disuse, swore.
A wicked smirk of a smile graced our lips.
My stomach dropped and I took a deep mental breath, but otherwise remained silent.
I wanted to revel in their demise as eagerly as he did, I was just human enough to feel violently ill at the thought.
If I ever believed in souls, mine was about to get good and tarnished. Would the revenge be as sweet as the staining in the aftermath?
‘Knowing these two won’t be around to hurt my precious pets where I can no longer oversee them?’ the queen mused. ‘One tiny dark spot against you is surely worth the price to remove two blackened souls.’
True.
By the Horns Page 6
