The Goddess and The Guardians Boxset: The Complete Romantic Fantasy Quartet

by Karen Tomlinson

  Diamond recoiled as it stared straight at her. Her fingers tightened on the metal shard, a paltry weapon though it was. It could never pierce the exoskeleton that formed before her very eyes until it encased the creature’s leathery skin.

  “Your face is everything I hoped for,” Ream sneered. “These Ashmea are going to rip your world apart. Perhaps I should let this one rip you apart right now,” he hissed, shoving her at the creature.

  Diamond threw out her front foot and bent her knee, stopping herself from falling. Hate coursed through her blood. “I thought you said your lord wished me returned to him?” she spat. “I expect he would feed your rotting flesh to these monsters himself if you defied him.”

  “She is right, sir,” said Fedron, expressionlessly. “Our lord sees all we see. She should be kept alive until he comes for her.”

  Diamond shivered. Hate turned to fear. The thought of seeing Erebos wearing Hugo’s skin was utterly abhorrent to her.

  Ream snarled at Fedron, who remained unperturbed. He merely regarded Ream steadily and waited. He was already dead, his soul no longer wholly his own, though he seemed more than the mere shell of a Dust Devil. He retained some thought of his own. Diamond would have to be careful with him if she were to get out of this.

  “Fine! Lock her in the dungeons,” Ream barked. Then he appeared to dismiss her from his mind. He walked to the newly-made creature. Hard-faced, he pointed at the husk of the man. The Ashmea snarled. It stomped forward, then dived on the remains, ripping them apart as it feasted.

  Diamond was saved from watching. Fedron shoved her across the ancient courtyard, past groups of huddled, terrified prisoners. Fedron’s weapons were still his own. A plain Silverbore sword caked in blood sat between his rotting wings. Her only hope was that he could be killed like all other Dust Devils.

  One Battle Imp accompanied them. Diamond balked at the thought of fighting such a monster without a weapon. No matter, she told herself. All she needed were her wits—and the four inch piece of jagged metal she clutched in her palm. No fear. Just as Hugo had always instructed.

  “Everyone thought you drowned,” Fedron rasped, grabbing her shackles and pulling her into the gloomy interior of the prison tower. “How did you get out of the Rough Sea alive?” he asked.

  Diamond remained silent.

  “No answer, hmm? Well, I don’t believe you made it this far alone. Know that I will find whoever your friends are this time, and I will feed them to the Ashmea,” he snarled.

  Diamond could not let that happen. Black liquid spurted as she thrust the metal into his eye. He did not howl in pain but hesitated long enough for her to twist her body and land a kick against the back of his legs. His grip loosened as he fell to his knees. Diamond spun, wrenching her shackles from his grasp. He had no choice but to let go. Diamond grasped Fedron’s blade and pulled it from its leather sheath, swinging it into his neck in one smooth move. The impact jarred her weak arms, but it did not cleave his head from his shoulders, it merely knocked him sideways. The Battle Imp steamed toward them, his curved sword in his hand.

  Diamond released her grasp and spun on her haunches under the Battle Imp’s attack. She was too small to do the creature much damage with her fists, but the dagger upon its waist was now securely in her hand. She spun onto her feet, bent her knees and launched herself on to the creature’s back, digging the dagger deep into its neck before dragging the blade across its throat, severing its windpipe.

  The creature gargled and thrashed. Again and again, she stabbed at it. Dark blood spurted from its torn, blue skin. It threw its head back, not accepting it was dead.

  Diamond was thrown to the ground. Winded, agony bleating through her spine, she watched the creature collapse.

  A dry chuckle resounded around the dimly lit guardroom. Back on his feet, Fedron stalked toward her, the sword still embedded in his neck, the metal protruding from his eye.

  Her eyes widened, her breath rasping in her tight throat. Desperately, she pushed herself into a sitting position. Get up! Get up! she screamed to herself. Supporting her weight on shaking arms and using her feet, she inched away from him.

  “You cannot escape your fate,” hissed the thing that had once been Fedron.

  Diamond gulped, her fingers fumbling through the thick blood that covered the ground. “No, you cannot,” she agreed, and grasping the handle of the Battle Imp’s blade, jumped up, spun and swiped with all her might.

  Fedron’s legs separated from his body and he fell, roaring his anger. His own sword dislodged from his neck as he hit the ground.

  Diamond dropped the curved blade and leapt over Fedron, sweeping the Silverbore sword from the ground. Without hesitation, she grasped the handle with both hands and screamed as she cleaved his head from his shoulders.

  Black dust exploded, covering her from head to toe; only the metal from his clothes remained.

  She grunted with satisfaction. “For you, Rose,” she whispered, then turned to the Battle Imp. His head took three strikes to separate from his thick neck. The last thing she wanted was for him to wake up as a Dust Devil.

  Sweating and shaking, she rooted through the dust and blood. Her fingers closed around a key on a chain. Fumbling in her excitement, it slipped from her blood slick fingers, missing the lock on her shackles. Cursing, she took a deep breath and tried again.

  Outside was pitch black. Diamond was glad of the grime and dust covering her silver hair and pale skin. She ducked down next to a wall, keeping in the deepest shadows.

  Dust Devils guarded row upon row of prisoners. Diamond’s heart broke for them. Knowing she could do nothing for them, she scooted along the walls. It was a long way around but if she stuck to the shadows of the keep, she would make it back to the archway—and to her friends.

  Gripping the Battle Imp’s blade tightly in one hand and Fedron’s sword in the other, she curbed her instinct to move quickly. Instead, she pictured Hugo beside her, ordering her to control her emotions. She closed her eyes, imagining his voice, the voice of the tough commander who had trained her.

  A noise nearby made her jump, spurring her on. Blinking the burning sensation from her eyes, she crouched low and moved stealthily toward the archway.

  Like the main castle gateway, there were only two guards on this gate. She could easily kill them, but that would raise the alarm too quickly. No, she needed to get them away from there. Squinting through the darkness, she could see the nearest group of prisoners huddled together. Praying to Lunaria for forgiveness, Diamond picked up a fist-sized rock and threw it into their midst.

  A woman screamed. A man groaned—and then all hell broke loose. The frightened prisoners pushed and shoved each other, leaping to their feet and trying to run. They fell in heaps as their shackles soon stopped them.

  The Battle Imps strode forward, knocking more people to the ground.

  Feeling sick at her actions, Diamond darted through the gateway and under the arch, reaching the other side unscathed. Picking the side of the wall that would lead her closest to her group, she crept through the shadows. Every now and then she touched her pocket, assuring herself the key was still there.

  There were few fires and torches, save for those either side of the main castle gateway and dotted around the battlements. It was so dark, Diamond could hardly see her hand in front of her face. Hoping Attion, Tawne and Otekah were where she had left them, Diamond wriggled forward on her belly. Each time a guard moved she froze, expecting them to raise the alarm. The scuffling and moaning of the prisoners hid the sounds of her scrabbling along across the dirt.

  Tawne was the easiest to see; he was still at the edge of the group, the final prisoner in a long line. His pale skin stood out among the sea of dark shadowy heads. Edging closer, Diamond skirted a Dust Devil. Soon Tawne was less than six feet away. Heart banging against her ribs, she reached him.

  Harsh breath rasped in his throat, his head tilted forward on his chest. From this close she could smell the stink of his infected wou
nd. She placed a hand on his arm, praying he was well enough to stand and run.

  He stirred, opening his eyes. Muscle tensed under her touch.

  Diamond squeezed her fingers around his forearm. A warning. Silently, she used her fingertips to find the lock on his shackles and the chain running through it.

  Damn it! It will be too noisy to get them off yet. Slowly, carefully, she turned the key. “Wait here,” she whispered.

  Tawne nodded.

  Diamond inched her way around the edge of the group, her heart in her mouth as she passed less than three feet in front of a Dust Devil.

  Attion and Otekah were two rows behind Tawne. She winced. Something sharp scraped along her hip bone, digging through her clothes and into her skin. The Dust Devil slowly turned, its movements ungainly. At the same time she heard Attion shift and Otekah grunt.

  They had seen her.

  She shifted, ready to jump up. Keeping her breathing steady, she watched the shadowy form of the Dust Devil.

  It grunted and lifted the sword it held.

  Diamond was infinitely glad these were rotting corpses when they were corporeal. This one had clearly lost the ability to speak. She thanked Erebos for using such brainless soldiers. He had a vast army, but his minions had major flaws; the longer he waited for war, the longer these walking corpses would rot.

  Launching to her feet, she shifted her weight from her back leg to her front knee and swung her blade.

  The Dust Devil exploded.

  Wasting no more time, she leaped over to Attion.

  “My queen,” he grinned, relief evident in his voice.

  “Hey,” she panted, undoing their shackles with shaking fingers. She undid the shackles of the prisoner next to Attion and gave him the key. “Here, set as many free as you can. Kill the Dust Devils by cutting off their heads.”

  The sound of chains rattling filled the night as Otekah and Attion disengaged themselves.

  The man gulped and took the key.

  “Attion, get that Devil’s blade. It’s near your feet,” she instructed. Attion did as she bid. “Thanks, now give it to him,” she said, nodding at the free prisoner.

  “But we will need it,” Attion growled, his eyes flashing green in the darkness.

  “Do as I say. We can get other weapons, he can’t,” she barked.

  Attion thrust the sword toward the man, who took it.

  “Good luck,” Diamond whispered to the man before turning to find Tawne swaying on his feet next to Attion. “Let’s get back to the shadows near the wall, quickly,” she urged. “They will come to the noise of these prisoners. It will take them ages to work out how they got free, and we need to reach the gates before they close them.”

  “Run,” barked Attion, giving Tawne’s shoulder a shove.

  Dazed, Tawne grunted and stumbled. Fearing they wouldn’t make it to the gates before the Battle Imps realised what was going on, Diamond took his hand and pulled him along. Tawne let her, his huge hand dwarfing hers. Attion kept his magic at bay. Any light would be disastrous for them right now.

  “Here,” Diamond breathed, passing the curved blade to Attion.

  Silently, he took it and ran in front, his footsteps light and swift.

  Diamond ignored the pain that lanced her chest at the knowledge he still had full strength magic, no longer even gold but green. Behind her, Otekah ran, seeming to disappear into the shadows. Keeping next to the wall, they ran towards the gates. Light from the torches pooled upon the ground on either side of their way out. They squatted in the shadows.

  Shouts and screams filled the night. Diamond balled her guilt and fear for those poor souls and shoved it deep inside her. She wanted to go back and help them, but knew she could not. If she didn’t escape, if Ream caught up with her again…

  She shuddered.

  “You gave them a chance,” rasped Tawne in understanding.

  It was then she realised how hard she was squeezing his hand. She relaxed her grip. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  He huffed a little. “It’s fine, but their fate is not your fault. We need to get out—get help,” he reminded her.

  More Battle Imps were charging in through the gates, followed by swirling columns of dust.

  Diamond swallowed her fear. She dropped Tawne’s hand and crouched beside him. “Any ideas?” she asked.

  Attion closed his eyes, his brow furrowed. His eyelids opened, his eyes glowing green. “I will get rid of those torches,” he said and closed his eyes again. “Get ready to run.”

  She listened as his breathing became harsher. It was hard not to ask what he was doing. Instead, she beckoned the others closer. Attion’s wings began to glow. Horror filled her. It showed, even though his wings were folded in tight to his back. Quickly, Diamond shucked off her tunic and covered them.

  Seconds later the torches flickered and were pulled into the air as if by an invisible force. They sailed through the darkness, landing about fifteen feet from the gate. There were shouts of disbelief from the Battle Imps. Despite four Battle Imps remaining under the archway, Attion sprung forward, still not using his magic. He killed two guards before they could even orientate themselves to the darkness.

  Otekah bent down as they ran past the corpses and, in one smooth move, lifted a blade. He chucked it to Tawne. Before the wolf shifter had even caught it, the Fire Priest scooped up another. In a light-footed style, he twirled and spun around the third Battle Imp. Within seconds the beast was kneeling, his arms and legs shredded. Otekah made the killing blow, cutting off the creature’s yell of pain. Attion despatched the fourth guard simultaneously—and then their group was running. They did not head down the main street where they knew their enemy waited but down shadowed back streets. The way was as full of obstacles and fallen buildings, but there were very few enemy soldiers here and far more places to hide. Not letting up their pace for a moment, Diamond led them whilst Attion and Otekah took turns helping Tawne. It was clear the wounded shifter was becoming weaker by the minute.

  She would not leave him behind, no matter what.

  Attion grunted as Tawne’s legs gave way and he collapsed in a heap, dragging Attion down with him.

  Diamond gasped and ran back to them, her heart in her mouth.

  “My queen, I need to fly you out of here. We must leave them both,” Attion hissed, his frustration evident.

  Diamond looked at him, horrified. “No! I will not leave them here to be captured and turned into Ashmea,” she hissed.

  “Ashmea?”

  “Yes. All those prisoners will be turned into monsters—demons of the worst kind. Ream is using an Ice Witch to feed mortal souls to the Ashmea and bring them to our world. I won’t let that happen to Tawne or Otekah.”

  “But you have to get out! You are our queen; everything will be lost if you are captured again,” he barked.

  “I will find my own way out—with Otekah. Take Tawne. Carry him out to safety. Head for Port Garrison.”

  “But…” Attion protested.

  “Go! Now!” she instructed. “And stay high, away from their arrows. The Ashmea will not fly without orders from Erebos. Ream has them all contained in cages—for now. Go, Attion—Otekah and I will be fine,” she ordered him, hoping he would not pick up on the anxiety in her voice.

  “Once I begin to fly, they will see my wings. Go now and I will wait a few minutes. It will at least give you a chance before they come after us all,” he said.

  Diamond nodded. “I will see you in Port Garrison,” she said resolutely. Tapping Otekah’s shoulder, she vaulted over a pile of rubble and into the night.

  Chapter 24

  Hugo met the blades of the monster with ease. Each previous time he had fought one, he had lost—until recently. With each of those failures, his bones had broken or his flesh had been sliced open. There was never any blood, only shadow leaking from each slash or stab wound. But the agony was real.

  Every time he fell, whilst he waited in pain for that huge swirling void to cl
aim him, he would close his eyes and bring Diamond to mind. Her stunning violet eyes, her strength and determination, but it was those words of love she had uttered when they had entwined their souls that never failed to heal his wounds. I love you, he heard her whisper, even as he whispered those precious words back.

  Before that void could reach him and erase his soul, he ran. And each time he survived he got closer to his target. Now he could see what was emanating that faint glow.

  His fingers tightened around the handles of the black metal blades he had formed. His skill at fighting these monsters had improved to the point where he had killed the last three.

  He reached the source of the glow. An emaciated woman scrambled to her knees and pushed her dull, silver hair from her piercing blue eyes. Her fists clenched, betraying her anxiety and hope.

  Lunaria!

  He gulped. It was true. Erebos had managed to entrap his sister.

  The cage she was imprisoned in was like nothing Hugo had ever seen. Its bars moved and writhed with open-mouthed screaming faces.

  Cold fingers of fear crept down his spine. If the goddess has not managed to escape these last thousand years, how the hell will I ever get out?

  The monster finally caught up with him and flexed its neck and shoulders. Chuckling, it spun away, heaved a sword in each of its upper arms—and struck.

  Hugo ignored the goddess and concentrated on surviving. He met the blows but stayed light on his feet, dancing around his opponent, whose heavy skeleton and size slowed it down.

  Hugo grunted, blocking a strike and lunged, severing one of the beast’s lower arms. He had learnt quickly; these monsters did not use a weapon in each hand every time. Some used sword strikes to distract their victims before plunging the talons of their lower arms into their opponents’ bodies and ripping them to shreds. Once a victim was helpless with agony and they had absorbed it all, they moved on, seeking another to torture.