Angst Box Set 1

by David Pedersen

  “Tori?” he said, feeling like an admonishing parent.

  “Yeah...” She nodded, half rolling her eyes.

  “Faeoris?” he prodded.

  “Fine,” she said with a grimace.

  The two women looked at each other and nodded.

  “You really should kiss,” he said. “It would make you feel better.”

  Faeoris rolled her eyes, but smiled. Tori looked for a place to slug him; her eyes said he’d get it later.

  “Where did the mud come from?” Faeoris asked. “I would’ve expected snow or ice.”

  “Ever get in a bathtub that’s too full?” Angst asked. “The monster swam through here, and the wake washed up over the edge.”

  “Dallow would be proud,” Victoria acknowledged.

  “That thing must be enormous.” Faeoris’s eyes were wide. “The water looks far away from here.”

  Angst swallowed hard. “We need to go.” He jerked his head toward Victoria’s swifen. “We have to do this my way. No bickering.”

  “We don’t bicker.” Victoria winked at Faeoris.

  Faeoris smirked back. As Angst struggled to mount the swifen, Faeoris grabbed hold and, in spite of his protests, flew him above the steed and dropped him behind Victoria.

  “I’m assuming we are in a hurry?” Faeoris asked. “You are old and slow.”

  “Isn’t he?” Victoria agreed.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled. “Let’s go.”

  The three took off, flying along the path of the sinkholes.

  “Faster,” Angst said to Victoria.

  She grunted, but the swifen sped up.

  “Faster,” he shouted.

  “I can’t,” she protested. “I can’t fly faster.”

  “Nor can I,” Faeoris called over his shoulder.

  “Yes! Yes, we can!” Angst yelled. “Faeoris, hold on to me!”

  He felt a tug on his back as she gripped the hilt of both blades. His eyes glowed red and his arms shone blue as he placed his hands on Victoria’s shoulders. The swords sang in his head, for once not fighting. Instead, they created a harmony of power that flowed through Angst and into Victoria. She whimpered but didn’t resist as they rushed forward at incredible speed. Within seconds, the ground below became a blur and leagues of land flashed by.

  “Steer gently,” he urged Victoria, his voice raspy with the effort of wielding.

  She nodded and they began to veer right, following the water. Faeoris cried out, but Angst didn’t slow.

  “Are you okay?” he called.

  “This is amazing!” the Berfemmian shouted. “I’ve never had so much fun!”

  “It hurts, Angst,” Victoria muttered, trying not to be overheard.

  “Almost there.” Angst continued filtering power from the swords through Victoria and into her swifen. His eyes watered in the cold wind, and he could see streams of tears along Victoria’s cheek.

  “I see it!” Faeoris screamed in his ear.

  They were half a mile from the castle. Carefully, Angst slowly cut off the power until it was a mere trickle. Blue and red smoke hissed from Victoria’s hands as they descended. The battle was more frightening than he’d prepared for. There were scores of gargoyles, either gliding through the air in v-shaped formations or guarding the edge of the sinkhole. As they approached, he could make out mermen and mermaids fighting humans. Soldiers fighting wielders. Fireballs and portals being thrown like snowballs. Men tossed into the air by gargoyles or torn apart by tentacles. And the castle...

  “My castle!” Victoria screamed in fury.

  The sinkholes, or the monster, or the battle had demolished a third or more of the castle, tearing away walls to leave the west side exposed. Something about the scene looked familiar to Angst, but there was too much going on for his brain to place it.

  “Where do we even begin?” Tori asked.

  Angst and Faeoris looked at each other and shrugged. He squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating hard, and reaching out as far as he could.

  “What are you doing?” Faeoris asked.

  “Calling in reinforcements,” he said, his eyes glowing brightly.

  “That’s great,” Tori said fretfully, tugging at her blond curls. “What about us?”

  “I’ll see what I can do about that thing.” He pointed at the mammoth creature a hundred yards below them. “Wielders and soldiers are fighting each other instead of the gargoyles and the merpeople. They need to pull it together or they’ll be annihilated. They need their queen, Tori.”

  “I...” She swallowed hard. “Fine. I can do this.”

  “I know you can.” He nodded and squeezed her waist. “Faeoris, are you okay?”

  The Befemmian’s face was strained with effort, and for the first time, Angst saw a bead of sweat drip from her forehead.

  “They’re getting heavy,” she grunted, pulling the satchel from over her shoulder.

  “What?” Angst said in exasperation. “Maybe the foci didn’t die. Maybe it was just knocked out! Get them to the ground before you get hurt.”

  “I’ll clear a path for Her Majesty,” she said excitedly. “Die well!”

  “How about, ‘don’t die!’?” he said, watching Faeoris practically stumble in the air with her load. He redirected his concern for Faeoris to Tori. “What’s wrong?”

  “All that power you pushed through me to get here faster, it was almost too much.” Victoria sounded worried. “Is it always like that for you?”

  “It is now,” he said sincerely.

  “What have you become?” she asked, her shoulders tensing.

  “Let’s find out.” He kissed her on the cheek and dismounted the swifen, falling to the giant monster.

  61

  The sound was like thunder that didn’t end, loud enough to wake old men and sleeping babes. The clamor became a rumble as families of wielders peeked out from their homes to see if it was safe. It had to be safe, danger was far, far away from Angst’s home. Nowhere near the domed chatlen Jaden had created.

  The rumble came closer, shaking the ground more and more violently by the second. Pebbles and stones hopped around like water in hot grease. The families scrambled nervously to the larger, central chatlen, with cooking forks and knives, with tenderizers and hatchets. The two youngest wielders and two oldest, who’d reluctantly stayed behind, now fought their fear as they stood guard at the edge of town. Their hands shook and their auras flickered like candles in the wind.

  Onlookers covered their ears, expecting to see a herd of wild bears or a regiment of soldiers on steeds of war. In the bright of day, they saw a steely blur approach, its enormous shadow eclipsing the town as it passed. Some would later describe it as a nightmare, with its many red eyes and bladed tails. Others would call it a sign of hope, that for once they weren’t the ones being attacked. All would say that the thundering silver blur racing to Unsel with speed and determination was a breath-taking sight. And they feared for its target.

  And amidst it all, those with the best hearing swore they could make out the smallest cry of excitement.

  Faeoris’s arms shook as she shifted her grip on the satchel. She wasn’t used to this; nothing had ever been heavy for her. She slowed her descent and knew there were only moments before she couldn’t hold her beautiful daggers any longer. Faeoris hated giving them up. It felt like she was being cheated of something she’d rightfully earned, and it made her furious. That anger wouldn’t go to waste once she located the perfect spot. There were so many creatures fighting below. Mermen and mermaids had teamed up with the gargoyles to fight soldiers, but the soldiers were fighting the wrong battle. The fools were attacking the human wielders.

  There was the occasional scream as tentacles snatched bodies and split them asunder. The giant creature had pressed up to the center of the castle ledge, where merpeople positioned themselves to attack, which was perfect, to Faeoris’s thinking. She held onto the dagger handles, spinning like she had with Angst over the dome. She grunted with the effort of momen
tum until the foci became too heavy, and let go. The satchel of foci daggers crashed into the castle floor with a bellowing clang. The impact threw bodies into the castle walls, and part of the ledge crumbled into the sea below, taking several gargoyles with it.

  “Yes!” she shouted.

  Tentacles shot up from the ocean, giving Faeoris the briefest of seconds to wield her longsword. She swung, slicing one and dodging another before a third struck her back, launching her toward the battle.

  Rook heard Vars move behind him and knew he was trapped. He’d lost to these creatures before, and thought desperately of Janda. He hoped she knew how much he loved her. He braced for the blow as the gargoyle’s large, green fist swung down, and then flinched at the heat of fire. It must’ve been what the sun felt like.

  Streams of flame shot from Janda’s outstretched hands as she stormed forward. The silver plate armor around her forearms glowed bright red from the encompassing heat, almost matching her wild red hair and glowing red eyes. She was a beautiful force, and he needed to marry her, once they survived this.

  Her pace slowed as the three gargoyles bubbled and burst. Hot liquid singed Rook’s face, making him cry out in pain. It didn’t matter. She was alive, he was alive, and she had saved him. She smiled broadly as he reached out to her.

  “I love you,” he declared proudly.

  “Rook!” she shouted, shoving him aside.

  She was much smaller, but her momentum propelled him several feet over as Vars’s blade lunged forward. It pierced her chainmail, driving into her gut with a rip and a crack. He twisted maliciously, pulling up as she gurgled, helpless to the steel. The fire in her hands went out, and with one last glance at Rook, her eyes went dark.

  Vars pulled the blade free and stepped back to admire his kill. Janda dropped to the ground, as still as death. Rook partially knelt, desperate to hold her, to love her back to life. His blood ran cold and his lip quivered as he realized she was already gone. It had happened before he’d had the chance to tell her just how much he loved her. She needed to hear those words over and over again. She deserved that and more. He cried out in anguish and his hands shook with rage. The pain in his leg, the pain from the fresh burns were all gone. Rook felt only hate.

  “Exactly how I feel about wielder filth,” Vars said, spitting on the ground beside her.

  Rook was lost to a berserker rage, his vision a red haze of anger as he roared like an animal. Before Vars could even lift his sword, Rook spun around and began chopping. He smashed into the solid plate of Vars’s sword arm, striking again and again with uncontained fury. Vars cried out in pain and surprise as his armor dented and split. He tried pushing Rook back, but a wildness had imbued the young man with strength that couldn’t be stopped. Blood spewed from the old man’s arm as Rook continued to chop until it was cut free. There was a sickening thud, as Vars’s arm fell to the ground.

  Vars laughed, madness ringing in the sound. “You haven’t figured it out, have you?” He held up his other hand, a red ruby ring shining brightly in the sunlight. “I can’t be killed!”

  Rook ignored the crazy words and condescension. He saw only the opening in the old man’s defenses. With the arm gone, his ribs were unshielded, a good place to strike next. Rook chopped and chopped, the man’s laughter driving him even harder. He looked up to see Vars’s pale white face leaned back, his eyes wide with a madness that matched Rook’s. Over Vars’s shoulder, Rook caught sight of a young woman in dark leathers with long, honey blond hair. She was hopping up and down, as if cheering him on. Alloria. What was she doing here?

  There was an explosion from behind, and the body of a fish man plowed into him. Rook was thrown forward, landing on his chest, the wind knocked out of him. His ears rang, but he knew he had to get up. He pushed himself to all fours and then to one knee.

  The cold steel that entered his side pierced his lung and drove through his heart. Rook couldn’t breathe as all strength left him and he dropped his sword. Rook didn’t understand. It was so wrong; Vars deserved to die. He grasped helplessly for the dagger Vars had shoved between his ribs, but was too weak to free it, and collapsed to the ground. Air rushed from his lungs as Vars kicked him over. Rook could only stare up at the old man with the missing arm, feeling helpless as life escaped him. Vars pressed a foot to his chest and leaned forward, pulling his weapon free. Rook could only blink.

  “I’ll kill every single one of you,” Vars shouted. “Just like you killed my son.”

  62

  Angst wasn’t breathless from the flying or the falling. He wasn’t winded from the solid landing on the back of an island-sized monster, or the battle raging all around him. He wasn’t dazed from some random blow to the head snuck between the two giant foci, and his jaw hadn’t been knocked loose by a gargoyle’s attack. He was awestruck that Moyra was here, walking toward him on two long, slender legs.

  Sunlight shimmered off the light blue scale that covered the outer half of her thighs and calves. In spite of the chaos surrounding them, Angst gawked as one leg sinuously moved in front of the other. Her hips swayed like waves on the sea, and it took strength to lift his gaze from those lovely legs and long torso and bare breasts to see her full, beautiful smile and large black eyes. Even as a mermaid, she was exotic. As something more human, she was possibly the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. So much had changed—her eyes were no longer filled with desperate hunger, and she could now walk on her own legs. All this made him wonder what else her people had suffered under the curse.

  Angst walked to her slowly. He swung Chryslaenor without looking, slapping aside a gargoyle like a fly. She shoved away a merman, who slipped on the creature underfoot and fell into the sinkhole. From the corner of his eye, Angst saw another merman leap toward him, only to crash into the flat of Dulgirgraut and crumple into a heap.

  Her eyes locked on his intently as she approached. Angst set both swords to hover behind his back as they met. They looked into each other’s eyes, and she pulled him in for a hug. He worried that his armor would be cold for her, but she didn’t seem to mind. She placed her cheek against his.

  “You did it, An-gst,” she said in his mind. “You freed my people, just like I knew you would.”

  “Yeah,” he said, at a loss for words. He had done what he’d set out to do, for once, even if it was by accident. It was almost freeing, in a way. “I’m glad you’re safe. That was the most important thing to me.”

  She looked up at him with those larger-than-human dark eyes, and he melted. So alien, and so honest, and so filled with—

  “You were right,” she said, sounding a little sad.

  “That’s not something I hear often.” He smirked. He created an air shield in time to deflect a thrown Unsel soldier.

  “I love you, hooman,” she replied. “I really do. It is not supposed to be this. I cannot, we cannot...” Her voice trailed off.

  “You do?” he asked, hopefully. His heart raced and his mouth went dry.

  Moyra merely turned away, as if ashamed. Angst took her chin in his fingers and gently pulled her to face him. They were so, very, close. Her eyes were sad, and in his heart of hearts, he knew there could be nothing more than this moment. He felt the ache of loss. More than anything, he wanted to share, to tell her how he felt. He wanted to explain that the hunger that had overwhelmed her wasn’t hers alone. He wanted to find a place that they could be...something. To be whatever they were. A mermaid and a hooman and...and... And he swallowed very hard.

  Angst had chosen to be a hero. This was what he’d always wanted, what he’d dreamed. He was married. And Moyra deserved to be happy. She deserved much more than he had to offer.

  “I...” His voice caught. The longer they stood there, the more it hurt. He forced himself to swallow through the lump in his throat, stood tall, braced his shoulders, and said, “I would do anything for a friend.”

  She lowered her head and squeezed her eyes shut, her thick blue brows hanging low. Angst could feel her in his
mind, and his response had been like a physical blow. He brushed a tangle of fine blue hair over her ear. In spite of his words, he was still thoroughly drawn in by Moyra’s beauty and her presence. If she could stay in his life, Angst would even settle for friendship, though it would only hurt her in the end. It was selfish, but he couldn’t control what he felt. His hand was on her cheek when she looked up. Her eyes understood, but—

  “Thank you,” she said. “How can I thank you?”

  “You said you were going to try to stop this,” he pleaded. “Please do something! There’s no reason our people should fight.”

  “I chased them and killed as many as I could!” she said proudly.

  “Would you try asking?” Angst said calmly.

  “I’ll try,” Moyra shut her eyes and frowned. “I told them not to kill hoomans.”

  He nodded gratefully and pulled her in close.

  “An-gst,” she said, her voice quavering in his mind. “If we cannot... I must go.”

  “That’s it?” Angst asked and felt his cheeks flush. It sounded like he was asking for a reward. “I mean, I get to see you again, right?”

  “You said...you thought...we cannot,” she said.

  She looked sad, almost guilty, but he nodded in understanding. Their worlds were so different, and so far removed. How could they possibly be anything? He knew this, and yet his heart still ached. He faked strength he didn’t feel. “No eating people, okay?”

  “I will try,” she said, her eyes mischievous.

  Angst sighed because he knew she was serious. “Thank you.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “I was a little lost, a lot lost, and you gave me purpose. That’s a generous gift.”

  She pouted and turned away. Her head lowered, she took a step. Angst sighed, reluctant to go into battle with a heavy heart. Moyra spun about and launched into his arms. She pressed her lips to his, her thin tongue flicking inside his mouth.

  “One last breath shared.” Her words echoed in his mind.