Remnants of Atonement (True paths Book 1)

by G. P McKenna

  The crushing weight never arrived, only the faint scent of cotton and frangipani. A warm, weathered hand wrapped around my shoulder and dragged me backward. When I cracked a lid open the Scolopendra had stopped dead in its track, tongue wagging in the air once more. Arcing my back, I frowned at how close Pierous was to me.

  That complete and utter scrotebag.

  “Yes, hello. Don’t stand up to help or anything, stupid girl,” he muttered. His fingers moved from side-to-side to juggle the small flicker of flame between them.

  “You said the Scolopendra eats magic,” I said and looked back to the frozen toad.

  Pierous huffed, “and that makes it a good distraction. So what?”

  So what? I moved my jaw, feeling those words in my mouth through a sickly bitter taste. I couldn’t even see Pogue through the toad’s enormous bulk, only that purple tube protruding from its mouth, which seemed to grow longer with each passing second. I arched my neck to look at the Warlock’s face, frozen by time, “hey, how fast can you run?”

  “I have old joints,” he replied gruffly, “why do you ask?”

  I lifted my hand from my chest, staring into the empty eye sockets. So what? The skull tumbled from my grip. The brittle cracking sound it made upon hitting the twisted roots was drowned out by a gurgled whale’s cry. The hand on my shoulder disappeared, and I rolled to my feet, “run.”

  “This was your grand idea?” Pierous screamed as he once again fell face-first into the mote, missing the bile river that was spewed at him by mere inches.

  Bold of him to assume I had a plan.

  Had I known the Scolopendra possessed a seemingly unlimited supply of acid I might’ve thought my actions through a little more, but once again I didn’t control my emotions as much as my emotions controlled me. I had acted irrationally and there was nothing to be done. But my chest was aching, my knees were on fire, and Pogue was gone.

  At least, I couldn’t see him beyond the Scolopendra. Grabbing a soaked Pierous by the arm, I dragged him up and pushed him forward. Pogue had to be alive. He surely would’ve made some noise had he melted to death, and that was a small comfort, but we still had to find him fast. I couldn’t keep running in circles forever. The opposite two trunks were on the other side of the cage. We just needed to get there. Pierous cursed under his breath as he stumbled over a root and an idea popped into my head, “when I say fireball, create a fireball,” I called.

  “What?” Pierous stumbled over his own feet, “oh yes, attract its attention even further. Just superb. We’re going to die.”

  “Shut up and do it,” I yelled and turned to face the Scolopendra. Its jaw was open, likely preparing for yet another acid attack, but the stress from the movement caused its injured eye to pop slightly from its socket, blood oozing freely to mix with yellow slime. Under different circumstances I might’ve gagged at the sight, but right then I had only one objective, “fireball.”

  Pierous made a choking sound in the back of his throat but clicked his fingers. The Scolopendra froze instantly as the smell of cotton and frangipani filled the room. Pierous juggled the flame and cocked his neck back, “anytime now, Shield.”

  “Throw it and run,” Pogue called, and the straggling tightness in my chest instantly loosened, “I have an idea. It’s risky, but it might work.”

  Might work was better than certain death. I nodded to Pierous and his choking sounds morphed into stifled sobs, but he didn’t hesitate. The fireball zoomed with impressive accuracy towards the Scolopendra, striking its damaged eye, which sizzled from its socket with a sickeningly delicious scent. Immediately its stupor was broken, and all its mouths opened as one, singing out in a deafening hum, but there was no time to cover our ears. Pierous let out a shrill scream as we zoomed under its belly into the safety of the trunk, just in time to miss the explosion of neon fluids that rained down. Pierous leaned out of the hollow and flicked another fireball at the Scolopendra. A mistake really, for in the next second dirt and debris almost crushed us both alive. Time and time again, the toad slammed against the hollow, tubular tongue sticking in and out with each strike to fill the enclosed space with the stench of rotted fish.

  “Again, anytime now, Shield,” Pierous screamed as the tongue inched closer towards us. There was no reply, and my breath whistled in my throat. Please don’t let him be dead, please. Pierous pushed himself up against my side, “I repeat-”

  “Yeah, yeah. I heard you the first time.”

  The banging stopped, and Pierous whistled deeply. Slowly, I extracted myself from both him and the back of the trunk to tiptoe to the split hollow and peeked outside, only to find Pogue standing uncomfortably close to the Scolopendra’s side, mere feet away from its central mouth. Its tongue was erect, twitching and vibrating as every few seconds Pogue would click his fingers before moving to the opposite side as the Scolopendra moved towards the sound. The barbaric dance stretched on for minutes before Pogue was finally level with its mouth and grinned. He turned to me and covered his eyes while shaking his head.

  “It’s blind?” I muttered.

  “Huh?” Pierous said, appearing by my side, “wouldn’t you know it, the Shield isn’t a simpleton after all?” he covered his eyes with his hand before inhaling, “uh, Princess, he isn’t motioning what I think he is, is he?” Yes, he was. Pogue pointed at Pierous and dragged his finger towards the burning fire pit, before balling up his fist and throwing air at the Scolopendra.

  The Warlock’s eyes widened, and he took a step backwards, shaking his head. I grabbed his arm before he could disappear into the shadows, and hissed, “you do this or kiss goodbye to your super long life.” The Warlock moaned but screwed up his eyes and nodded. Raising his hand, Pierous clicked his fingers, but didn’t even get to throw the fireball before the Scolopendra was back upon us, banging on the trunk with a renewed vengeance.

  Dirt rained down, and I closed my eyes moments before something wet smothered my face in a stench so putrid that a thousand-month-old miracle cures would’ve been preferable. A million times over. The spongy object remained suctioned to my face for what felt like an eternity, stealing away both my breath and sanity, before it was gone. Wiping the sticky liquid from my eyes, I dared look just in time to witness the toad’s purple tongue linger over Pierous’ face. I had never believed somebody could scream silently until that moment, but even with his jaw clenched tight enough to snap, Pierous was screaming. The Scolopendra made a soft squelching sound, and then the tongue began to dilate, pulling back over itself to reveal row upon row of inner needle-like teeth as the organ stretched. Pierous moaned, his hand clasping tightly at his chest. The tongue pulled upwards, suspended over Pierous head. It was going to eat him and there was nothing I could do, could barely even move. Coming here was a bad idea. So bad.

  I wasn’t even sure if I meant the Armoury or Ascot.

  There was a flash of movement by the door, a glimmer of white, and the tongue dropped onto Pierous with an indescribable howl of agony. Pierous screamed, slapping the twitching organ to the floor as the Scolopendra retreated. It stumbled over its own hands, fluorescent blood oozing freely from its central mouth as it crashed to the floor. The cage filled with a weird vibration, as if every inch of magical energy the toad had ever ingested was being expelled. The Scolopendra continued shuffling backwards, every mouth howling before being silenced as blood sprayed like fountains from each hole, dissolving its body into slush and bones.

  There was silence for a single moment before Pierous moaned out a sound that rapidly morphed into a roar, “What kind of plan was that?” He was covered head to toe in yellow goo that dripped to the floor as he flapped his arms like a deranged bird, “three-hundreds and thirty-two years, and never have I met a duo with such deeply ingrained death wishes as you. I’m no longer surprised you’re down here seeking necromancy services; I’m only surprised you haven’t required them sooner.”

  “You finished?” I asked as his chest violently heaved.

  “Yeah,” Pog
ue called from somewhere outside, “it’s not like you were much help.”

  “Not much help?” Pierous spluttered and wiped a glob of goo from his chin before falling back to the floor, arms and legs spread wide, “I allowed that thing to molest my beautiful face. If the Shield had failed to react in time, I would’ve been consumed whole.”

  Pogue appeared at the entrance of the hollow and leaned against the wood, breathing heavily. I spared him a look, and seeing no apparent signs of injury, turned back to Pierous with a laugh, “please, it would’ve spat you right out.”

  “Spat me-?” Pierous squinted at me before covering his eyes and barking a raspy giggle, “my dear, that wasn’t its tongue. That tubular organ was its…yonic.” What the blazers was a… ugh, sweet Deities, disgusting. I sunk against the wood opposite Pogue, and Pierous smirked, “Shield, won’t you inform your friend…say, are you alright? You look positively dreadful.”

  Pogue looked up, blinking through bleary eyes, and I had to agree. Coated in sweat and with a prickly red rash forming over his face, Pogue looked like he had just been chewed up and spat out by a yonic. Pushing bile-gelled hair from his face, he nodded slowly, “yeah, just hot and tired. I’m gonna go wash all this gunk off, at least what I can anyways.”

  Pogue walked towards the murky water and slowly sat, dipping his hand lazily in the stream. I grit my teeth, resisting the urge to call out what the Morrigan had used that water for, but he was already drenched, and I had bigger donkeys to ride. Turning back to the spread-eagled Warlock, I kicked his ribs with my boot, “so?”

  “So what?”

  “Have you reconsidered what we asked of you?”

  “Mm,” Pierous flexed his fingers like starfish, “I have.”

  “And?” his only reply was a rude finger gesture. I delivered another swift blow to his ribs, earning myself a delectable groan, “we just saved your life.”

  “Technically that was The Shield,” Pierous moaned as my foot went lower, “and not the cleverest of ideas in all actuality. You just destroyed your best bargaining chip, free of charge.”

  “You’re unbelievable,” I said and aimed a kick to a very sensitive part of his body. He sat up before it made contact, wiping fluid from his face with a chuckle.

  “I’m aware.”

  Unbelievable wasn’t a strong enough word for the scrotebag of a Warlock. Pogue had sworn Pierous was honourable, that he could be trusted, but there was no honour in turning down a simple request from the ones who had just prevented him from being turned into toad juice. We should’ve left him to wither away, possibly have his fat head squeezed through the smallest of the Scolopendra’s mouths…smallest mouth.

  Huh.

  I sat down beside Pierous and pulled my leg up to my chest. The bandage around my thigh was caked in browning blood as I carefully unwound it. “What did you do there, stupid girl?” Pierous sniffed.

  “That depends,” I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, “are you a betting man?”

  “You want to pull straws?” he chuckled and dropped back to the ground, “sorry, not interested. No freedom, no resurrection. That’s still my only offer.”

  “Not that type of betting,” I cringed as the bandage came away. Yellow goo had dried around the bite in a thick crust. Doctor Kira would have my head if it became infected. I nudged Pierous’ foot until he looked up with a scowl. I pointed at my leg, “look familiar?”

  Pierous squinted, his scowl increasing as he sat up to look out the hollow entrance towards the steaming corpse, “hmm, I didn’t see you receive that. It got you nice and good.”

  “You didn’t see it because the Scolopendra didn’t give it to me. At least not in here,” Pierous faced me, his left eye fading to a dull blue as he rose a brow. Got you, “this I actually received on my way in here. There was a pool full of glowing orange beads directly outside. They almost looked like eggs. I fell into them and something attacked me. Pulled me under. Now, I’m no ecological expert, but I am a betting girl, and I’m willing to bet that this bite mark would be near identical to one of those mouths.”

  The Warlock’s face fell, his lips disappearing inside his mouth as he turned back to the toad’s corpse, “there’s a nest?”

  “Is there?”

  Pierous shook his head, looking back to me with a cocky grin, “No, you’re lying,” he held my gaze, and though my eyes were unbearably dry I forced them to remain open and calm. His smile became stiff before utterly failing, “you’re not lying. But so what? You cannot leave a knot of Scolopendra spawn flourishing unhindered inside the Armoury. They’re vermin, and it’s a tree. They will destroy it from the inside out.”

  “That’s why I asked if you’re a betting man,” I shot him a cocky grin of my own, “ask yourself, am I willing to bet my extraordinary longevity on the belief that a Bethallan girl cares more about the wellbeing of a tree than the life of her friend?”

  “Well there’s a question you don’t get asked every day. Bethallan, really?” he squinted at my face with a raspy groan, “You’re a terrible person, you realise, that right?”

  “I’m aware.”

  “Bugger,” Pierous rolled to his feet with a groan and shuffled out of the trunk towards Pogue. I bit my lip, praying to the Deities that Pierous wouldn’t tell him about the nest, for resurrection or no resurrection, Pogue wouldn’t watch his home destroyed. Not like I would. But Pierous only sat down beside him, clasping his shoulder and sighing tiredly, “Shield, I have reconsidered my terms.”

  Pogue looked at the Warlock and blinked, “you have?”

  “Indeed. I…” Pierous glanced over his shoulder at me, his lips twisting, before nodding, “I want an audience with your Princess. I wasn’t afforded a trial. The Commander with the busted face just locked me up without the chance to plead my case. I want that opportunity. Promise me that much, and I will attempt to revive your friend.”

  Pogue’s eyes narrowed as he looked Pierous up and down, “why?”

  Huh, at least he had that going for him. Pierous gasped dramatically, spluttering as he shook Pogue’s shoulder, “Why? WHY? You just saved my life, of course! I’m not an ingrate. So, about that audience…?”

  Pogue ran a hand over his face before kneeling to stand, “I… I’ll put in a good word.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Pierous said and held his hand, groaning as Pogue pulled him to his feet, “now that’s settled there’s just a teensy hurdle in the shape of a sword.”

  “Shut your pie hole. The blessed one has agreed to see you,” a deep buttery voice called. Was that? No, it couldn’t have been. The three of us looked at each other, then around the room for whoever had spoken, but the cage remained empty, “up here, dingbats.”

  There was a rustle in the leaves of the miniature oak by the throne as a flash of red appeared amongst the green. Ratatoskr perched himself on the lowest branch, munching the green apple in his tiny paws. Pierous was the first to recover and raised his hand to wave, “why hello there, good furry gentleman. How long have you been hiding up there?”

  “Hiding? Pah,” the apple crunch echoed through the cage as Ratatoskr took another bite, “I arrived just in time to hear you squeal like a piggy, old man.”

  “And you didn’t jump in and help?” Pogue growled.

  “Not my job,” Ratatoskr replied, twirling the core with his teeth, “I’m the messenger, my job is to bring and take messages to the big man upstairs. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more. Speaking of which,” the apple fell from his paws, It bounced upon the wood of the platform and rolled unnaturally to where we stood. Then cracked. A vivid white light erupted from within, growing wider and brighter by the second until all that remained of the apple was a spinning vortex which puffed out snowy smoke. The Warlock grinned and my heart dropped.

  Not again.

  Twenty Four

  Helminthophobia

  fear of parasites

  Teleporting was the worst.

  Not even the airiness of the Sword
’s celestial magic made it any more enjoyable. Even if it did smell of freshly baked apple pie, it made my entire body itch down to the bones, the very seams of time and space became unbecoming all around. Unnatural, that’s what teleporting was, and not even the most blessed man in existence could change that. I stumbled out of that vortex into the courtyard with less grace than the gliding trio behind me, but at least I managed to keep my feet and wits about me. Sometimes the day’s spoils are small.

  No sooner had Ratatoskr stepped foot on beautifully solid ground than he was scuttering off to climb an overhanging branch, pulling a blackberry from thin air. Or his nature pocket. Yuck.

  “I hope he caused you no trouble.” The voice had come from behind and I turned towards it. I wasn’t sure of who I expected to find, but it certainly wasn’t a young man with peculiar hair almost the shade of peach, watering a flower bed. It took an embarrassingly long time to realize that the man held no watering can or bucket at all. The water drained from his fingers when he danced them over the stems. He sighed wearily, but didn’t look up, “we’ve been working on social etiquette here as of late, but old habits die slow deaths.”

  Pierous chuckled and held out his hand, “my word, that’s some fancy elemental magic you have there, Sir Sword. I wouldn’t mind stealing that for myself one day.”

  So that was Ascot’s Sword. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but the man watering a rosebush before me looked too young, too docile, to be one of the most influential individuals in existence. The Sword closed his hand, cutting the water flow instantly. He looked at Pierous with a small smile. His skin was perfectly smooth and untouched by time, but as always, truth could not be hidden within the eyes, and in those deep brown irises was the past, present and future.

  The Sword smiled at the Warlock’s hand until Pierous gulped and dropped it, “I’m afraid my magic is Deity gifted. It is not something that can be taught, nor stolen. You either contain it, or you don’t.”