They had swarmed all over her and she hadn’t been ready. She hadn’t had the time to do anything before that big fat white fist had come down on her face and she’d been surrounded by that stinking mass of bodies. She recoiled thinking of those disgusting things touching her fine skin, but that memory was the least of her troubles.
She strained her neck to look to the left and saw Silver was in a similar if not worse position. She was tied to a large stone pillar that had been raised, and was surrounded by a hissing and jeering crowd of pale bloated things that threw insults and small stones and rocks at her. She screamed back in defiance, thin silver blood pouring from a dozen small cuts and gashes on her naked body. The wounds would close and heal just to be made again by other rocks, and at her feet lay a small pile of stones smeared with her blood. How long had they been like this, and how much longer would they be?
The throne was empty of the ‘Queen’ or ‘Priestess’, whatever that huge creature called herself, so at least that was a blessing. Around her were a pack of the creatures guarding her and looking at her with wonder. One had said ‘sorry’ before it had smashed her face, and she wondered if they actually wanted to be delivered from this hell and were just under control like Seth had been. Silver clearly had no power over them, and they listened not to her words: her mother’s control of them was too deep.
She closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She was truly done now. No power of hers would be able to help her, but she could try. She looked at a creature that bowed over her, peering at her face, and she did her best to smile at the hideous thing. It was a woman but her face was swollen and distorted.
‘Let me go and I’ll save you all from her,’ she said in her best softly regal voice.
‘You look different; you were a boy before,’ it said, looking confused.
‘I can look however I want.’ Seraphina said simply. To verify the point, she focused hard and, through the pain in her face and head, turned herself to the guise of Silver. Her body grew in height and other places until she was the beautiful naked woman, still tied to the table. The ones guarding her stood back in shock.
The female one looking at her started to cry. Seraphina saw tears swell in her cloudy eyes and run down her scarred cheek. ‘I looked like that once. Not as perfect, but like that, and my hair was beautiful and my partner said I was his princess.’
Seraphina was stunned. God, what would it be like to have been so much and lost it all? She was no stranger to vanity, given that she was a forty-year old who looked like a fresh-faced twenty year something, but that was too much to consider. Having gone from goddess to monster.
‘I can bring it back for you.’ She looked at the woman and, forcing hard, changed her into what she thought she would have looked like as a true child of the moon. Not as perfect, but lean, pure skin and full long silver hair, and proudly naked. She saw the hope in their faces as she did it.
The woman looked at her arms, her stomach, and touched her hair. ‘I’m even prettier than before.’ She said in shock.
‘Release me and I’ll help you all.’ They all looked at each other and she saw the defeat in them.
‘You can’t, can you?’ She asked in quiet voice, and let the guise slip away from them both.
‘The silver tongue commands, that’s the way it’s always been with us. One per generation to lead us.’
God, the kings and dukes of her realm would love that, she thought.
‘But we won’t let them hurt you, that’s why we’re standing here,’ the woman said, and the others nodded.
‘You’re guarding me against them?’ She asked and saw that it was true; about twenty of the creatures stood with their backs to the table and hissed and screamed at the others who were planning on tormenting her like they were Silver.
‘They are angry hungry ones, but the silver tongue never said to hurt you specifically, so we can keep you safe for now.’
She heard herself say ‘thanks’ before drifting into unconsciousness once again, her shows of illusion having drained the little energy she’d held in reserve.
Seth lay flat on his stomach, feeling the cold stones digging into him and looking out at the scene before him. It was good these things weren’t very smart because they were hurrying about just a few paces away from him, his heartbeat sounded like a gong in his chest to him atleast. He’d managed to squeeze into the tiny space between the broken pillars and rocks, and now just watched, fuming at his helplessness.
It was a strange feeling for someone who had become so strong and ready to fight, to now being forced to wait and watch his friends, as it were, be tormented and tortured while he did or could do nothing. With the mob of howling angry things before him, there was no way he’d get though more than ten of them before he’d be dead and of no use to anyone. Still, it grinded on him that a Northman, especially, would just watch this and do nothing. Was he Seth or not?
Any feelings of anger or resentment he had towards the woman who called herself Silver were now replaced with admiration and a sense of concern. She was tough, really much tougher than him. She stood tied to the hastily erected pillar of damaged black stone and screamed in anger as the howling mob of these white bloated things hurled rocks and insults at her. She looked incredible, and he didn’t know how they could stand to damage such a beautiful thing. It was like trying to set a forest on fire just to watch the flames. He could see that the group was hardly unified, though. In the deformed faces of the mass, he could see conflicting emotions. Some had the hungry look of the mob at an execution. Shouting with hate-filled hearts and eyes. Others were going through the motions and would toss a stone weakly, and only if another looked their way.
The ruler of this rabble had quickly left the stage, or rather been carried away, supported by a group of others. She’d used all of her strength to command them to attack her daughter, and even now as Silver struggled, he could see her fighting against that control. She looked one in the eye as it raised a stone to throw at her.
‘Don’t you fucking dare!’ She yelled out, and it hesitated for a moment. Then encouraged by the rest, it threw it anyway. She didn’t have the power to command them against the wishes of the other, it seemed. Seraphina was in a bad spot as well. She was tied to the rough stone table unconscious. The strange thing there was that she had an almost honour guard, that looked mostly female, and wouldn’t let others near her. She was in a dangerous spot, but at least her fragile body wasn’t being stoned. Seth grit his teeth and waited. The light in the courtyard was low and dark cast only by the moon, but he knew these things saw well at night, and yet slowly the group of them was leaving. He knew they didn’t sleep, but they we’re getting tiring and growing bored. Soon there were only a few of them left, and he knew why.
The ones that remained in the group, of six or so, were males. He saw by the long staring looks at her body that they thought she was far from a ‘skinny dog’ or some of the other things the crowd had been yelling. If she was what they had once been surrounded by, she was now the only attractive woman left in their entire land. That was bad. Seth waited until the group thinned more still and it was only the six left. They looked around and then approached her as a group.
She knew their intentions as well and screamed at them. ‘You touch me and you fucking die!’ She yelled again and again.
One just laughed back at her. ‘But there is no one to help you now, pretty one.’
Seth pulled his body from the stone pile and pushed past the aches and pains in his muscles, quickly climbing down and running at them, drawing his sword. Others would probably see and come running, but fuck if he was letting this happen. Seth ran to the pillar blocking his approach, and then he leapt from behind just as one reached out to touch Silver. His sword slid into the creature’s chest and it fell back with a cry.
He smiled at the group, crouching low and taking his sword in both hands. They were all unarmed.
‘Don’t say she didn’t warn you,’ he said to the fall
en. They were all on him within moments, scratching, clawing, and biting. Huge hands came down and hit him again and again as he slashed left and right, throwing his elbow hard into the face of one as it bit his shoulder, he tried not to cry out and keep the battle as quiet as he could, but the sounds were ringing through the empty night. He killed one, then another, but they were too strong. One pulled a short black knife and he saw it just as it went into his stomach. Seth cried out with the shock, but raised his sword and slashed it down, hacking at its neck again and again. He turned, only one was left. It turned and ran yelling in alarm. Seth tossed his sword hard into its back. It dropped dead, sword sticking out from its spine.
Seth staggered over to its body and pulled the sword free. Blood was dripping from the black blade buried deep in him, and every step hurt as the blade moved inside of him. Still, he gritted his teeth and walked to where Silver stood looking at him with those blue eyes, still tied to her pillar.
‘I command you...’
He put his finger across her lips. ‘No need for that, I’ll help you, just stop telling me what to do.’ He reached around behind her and cut the leather bonds before dropping to the ground in front of her.
She looked at him in honest confusion. ‘You came back, champion? You were free of me and you came back? Why?’
He just smiled with blood in his teeth and passed out.
Chapter 35
Of all the disgusting things Josette had seen and been forced to do herself in her young life so far, what she was witnessing in that tent really sank to new depths. There were already two large piles of bodies; one the discarded ones with gapping chest wounds where their hearts had been, before being ripped out with the aid of short swords and heavily mailed fists.The others, waiting to be defiled.
Her trusty dagger had already been run down the leather, and made a gash small enough for her to slip through. She crept slowly towards the growing pile of discarded bodies and, putting her small hand over her nose, Josette tried not to think about what she now needed to do. The ten or so guards in the huge tent were very distracted with their task and complained in a constant stream of profanity at the job they’d been given. It didn’t seem to upset their morality; rather, it was very hard work.
‘This is fucked. We better get some of the run-off like last time or I’m not going to be happy.’ one black sashed guard said. He was a fierce looking man who would have fit better in the camp of the mercenaries with his full beard and uniform splattered with blood. He thrust his short sword into the chest of a young soldier, pulled it downward, pushed it left and right, and then pulled out his heart. It was a well practised move, as he’d done it at least twenty times already. She winced as she heard the sound of the organ being ripped out, and a bloody trail that came from the heart as it ripped free from the blood tubes and things attached, which poured onto his leg. ‘Fucking hell,’ he said in frustration as he threw the heart into a large metal vase with no ceremony or respect. Two other guards took the body by the feet and hands and tossed it onto the pile near her.
Josette didn’t need any more reasons to hate the Dark Guild, but after seeing this and the relaxed way in which they committed these atrocities, she knew they had to be stopped, hard. She was on the other side of the pile of corpses and, taking the hand of a body, pulled it aside and began to climb through the slight hole made by it. It was slow, disgusting, and scary work. She had to crawl through the mountain of bodies to get to the other side, but in doing so she couldn’t make too much noise or movement. She didn’t want to cause an avalanche of corpses.
She worked her way slowly through, with elbows and knees, until she was laying fully flat within the pile, near the top, and could look out through a gap between two bodies. She was covered from head to toe in human blood and could feel a slow drip, drip, drip falling softly on her forehead as she lay trying not to move. Josette felt the bile rise in her stomach and tried not to throw up and give herself away, while next to her the dead face of a young soldier lay looking at her as she hid. They better appreciate this effort, as it was a lot worse than anything she had had to do in the pleasure house. Sex with a disgusting fat man didn’t seem as bad now. Still, she’d done it: she was completely hidden and had the best view in the house, and now she just had to hope they didn’t throw on too many more bodies and crush her with the weight of them.
Elizebetha had taught her many things that night in the wine cellar. Mostly, it had been training her to be a better fighter, sneak, and assassin. She’d said she was giving her the tools she needed to survive this mission. As she’d crept, she could feel the memories of various thieves and cutthroats running through her mind. She knew she could pick a pocket fairly neatly now as well, something that she could have used in the past. Some memories, though, had been visions from Elizebetha’s father, and the songs and spells he’d used to battle the Guild. He was something like their executioner, and had excelled in taking the power from others when they crossed the line, very different from the way Elizebetha had described the kindly and quiet man. Still, enemies like these inspired no pity: only fear and hatred.
The plan had changed, though. She’d been asked to stop the Duchess, which she knew she could do, but letting the Duke rise back in her place would be just as bad or worse. She had to try to take out both of them. She had her dagger and that was all, and the room was quickly filling with many black sashed guards as they finished their bloody work and the ceremony began.
The tent flap on the other side was thrown and held open by the two guards she recognised, and the blonde-headed Duchess walked in. Josette swore she saw a look of pure hunger and delight on her face as she surveyed the scene. In the corner stood a large metal vase that stood off the ground on three legs like a brassier. Inside, she knew, were the blood and hearts of hundreds of fallen soldiers.
‘Lovely job, gentlemen,’ she said in a sweet refined voice. ‘You’ve made me very happy.’ Two of the men moved the brassier or blood vase thing into the center of the tent, and around it she stepped, arranging her little metal boxes with care. Josette could see that it had little things carved on each, and the end of the circle was only inches away from her and the pile of discarded bodies; the tent was almost full with carnage.
The woman began to chant. Dark powerful words came from her sweet-looking lips that seemed like they belonged to someone else, and she stalked around the circle as she went. Josette could see the circle start to darken as the very air itself turned into that of a gathering storm cloud. She knew it was time. She started to sing to herself, so quietly. It was a simple blocking chant, but effective. She could feel her quiet words pushing against the dark shouts of the Duchess, and while she’d never said them before, they came spilling out of her. Inside, something in her knew what they were fighting, and she gave it her all.
The face of the Duchess started to grow red with exertion, sweat pouring down her pale face. Soon she was shouting at the top of her lungs and her voice started to grow rough and hoarse from overuse. Josette kept up her quiet singing and was growing in confidence as she saw the woman starting to lose her own energy and resolve. Suddenly, she stopped and the tent was dead quiet. One of the guards looked to her with a questioning look. She turned to him with venom. ‘Something’s wrong; I think there is someone in here,’ she said.
‘There are a lot of dead people,’ he said as a statement of fact.
The Duchess looked at the pile of bodies where Josette lay and then looked around the room to any other possible hiding places, but there were none.
‘Well, it’s either one of you or there is someone still alive in there, and they are Guild; any black sashes in there?’ She asked.
‘A dozen or so, but they are well beyond being alive,’ he said.
‘Make sure,’ she said.
The half a dozen guards walked over to the pile of bodies in which she lay and started to thrust their short swords into it at various places while the Duchess started her chant again. They were much too clos
e for her to start singing again, and she just hoped beyond hell that they missed her as their sword blades slid in and out of the pile of corpses. At least they didn’t do it with much gusto. One blade thrust in next to her and into the gaping soldier’s mouth, just to add more to his humiliation. She hated these people so much. They soon stopped as the Duchess called them back, because it was too late.
The darkened cloud was fully formed, and in the circle stood the Duke. He looked like a beast and was again something she’d never seen or wanted to. His eyes were pitch black and he had huge sharp teeth spilling from his mouth. She’d failed again, and even her singing now wouldn’t work as their goal was already achieved. She thought of all she had learned from the cellar and searched her mind for something. Nothing in the Gatherer lore could help with this. They didn’t do summoning: they just stripped people’s power, and that wouldn’t work on the dead. She had to think of something and not give herself away.
One of the memories she had called out to her. It was a Gatherer who always felt afraid, he was always hiding something, and she thought she knew what. She searched deep and found his secret. He did his own summoning, as well, and was always fearful of Elizebetha’s father, and being caught. She imagined the huge black dogs that he called and the bloody work they did. She knew she could call them with her mind only.
As the corpse that was the Duke fed from the huge vase of bloody hearts, reaching in and pulling them out like bloody treats, she called. She imagined the black dogs in her mind and guided them into the rift that was already opened with a skill much greater than her own. Suddenly, they were through the rift, and without a word they were upon the Duke and the pile of hearts.
The instant carnage was like nothing she’d ever seen. She’d not called one of these things, but many, and now a pack of them came bounding through the rift on string black legs and attacked. They fell on the Duke, who was still acting like a slavering beast, and taking him between a pack of four, they ripped him apart. Sharp animal teeth sinking into his dead flesh with vigor. They fell on the hearts as well, knocking over the vase and devouring the contents like the hungry dogs they were. The vase fell so that it knocked the boxes that made the circle of power askew, and she saw it shudder. So did the Duchess. With a cry, she started the chant again, and within a few tense moments it was closed and there was only silence again, the beasts being pulled back in as they ate.
Take the Darkness...: Epic Fantasy Series Page 16
