Sacrifice

by Vicky Walklate

  She raised her shaking hands again.

  “Stay out of the way!” Rhetahn dragged her behind him and brandished his spear at a charging foe.

  Brand leapt into the attacker’s path and swung his sword. Blood spattered everywhere and she screamed, clinging like a limpet to the god’s naked back.

  The thunder of charging warriors abounded, battle cries echoing through the cave.

  Rhetahn lunged to spear an assailant. Losing her grip on his back in the process, Libby skittered sideways with a sob.

  The second sentry lay dead next to his companion, a pike protruding from his chest.

  Steel clashed nearby; Brand fought a demon as big as him, meeting him stroke for stroke with grim determination.

  Gharrick was flat on his back with a demon atop him. Libby lifted a hand but Jahda beat her to it, plunging her sword into its back. It slumped atop Gharrick and he hefted it sideways in disgust.

  An enraged bellow preceded the demon from earlier as it stalked back into the cave, the skin on its face blistered. It glared at her, brandishing a blazing white orb tinged with ebony flecks.

  Taking a deep breath, she flicked magic with both hands.

  This time, he dodged, then tossed the orb casually into the shelter.

  Libby flinched as the cave filled with light again.

  Jahda gave a shout of pain. Another demon had taken advantage of the distraction to plunge a pike into her shoulder, sending her to her knees. With a feral snarl, the lieutenant twisted in place and swung her sword. Her attacker retreated with haste and Gharrick dragged Jahda away, toward the back wall.

  Hands grasped Libby’s upper arms and she screeched before recognizing Rhetahn. The god hauled her back to the cave wall, resuming his position in front of her. His upper body was covered in blood. Weariness poured off him in waves, yet he stood ready to battle regardless.

  Six demons remained.

  The soldiers bunched up, Rhetahn shielding Libby, the other three standing in front of them. Jahda was holding her useless right arm with her good hand. Brand and Gharrick, too, were wounded and exhausted.

  The horned creatures skulked toward them. The one who had thrown the orb locked its surprised, greedy gaze on the amulets Libby wore. Another one eyed Rhetahn with growing recognition, muttering to its companions. They studied him, their shock and triumph obvious.

  “Gharrick, get the lord out if you can.” At Brand’s flat command, Libby knew all was lost.

  Mist swirled, revealing Gharrick’s intention to shift, when a dark blur raced into the cave and leapt on to one demon’s back.

  The monster’s bellow was cut off by teeth clamping on its spine.

  Libby gaped as the animal—a leopard?—jumped straight from the crumpling demon to the next one. Three more felines joined the first, each one leaping on their chosen victim and doling death with teeth and claws.

  “Ground shifters,” Jahda gasped.

  The final two demons fled for the cave entrance.

  Without missing a beat, Rhetahn hurled his spear. It whistled into the creature’s back and sent it skidding to the ground in a death heap. The second one tumbled down the slope, rocks and stones sliding in its wake as it vanished into the gulley.

  The god bent double, his hands on his knees. Brand offered him his arm. Rhetahn waved him away and straightened, his gaze on their feline rescuers.

  Libby studied them too, her head spinning in the battle’s aftermath. About the size of large sheepdogs, the leopards’ cinnamon-gray fur was dotted with dark spots and rosettes. Their black-tipped tails quivered, with excitement or hostility, she wasn’t sure.

  The atmosphere crackled with tension and the scent of blood hung heavy in the air. The warriors were braced for another fight. Then mist—the same she’d witnessed when the dragons shifted—rose around the big cats. When it cleared, humans appeared in their place.

  The leader was a young man with short brown hair and pale green eyes. His dark pants and long-sleeved shirt were threadbare yet functional, and he had a short sword on his hip. A curved hunting bow and a quiver of arrows hung off his back, along with a small rucksack. Three more men hovered behind him, similarly armed. They didn’t seem to recognize Rhetahn.

  Their gazes drifted across Libby’s bloodstained gown and half-revealed chest, with the amulets nestled against it. She flinched and pulled the V-shape together.

  The leader’s stare fell on Brand.

  “Captain of the Guard,” he exclaimed. “Why are you away from Trivium on ritual night?”

  Brand narrowed his gaze. “Dax? What are you doing here?”

  “You know him?” the god asked.

  “He’s an accomplished scout and soldier, my lord, familiar in these parts. I have made use of his services in the past.”

  “My lord? We have an esteemed dragon minister holed up here?” A sneer twisted across the young man’s features. “I see you took a break from kissing the collective ass of The Three to slum it with the commoners. Didn’t time it too well, did you?”

  His men snickered.

  Libby couldn’t stem her horrified squeak.

  Jahda eyeballed the young man. “Mind your tongue, boy.”

  “Easy, Lieutenant,” Rhetahn said.

  Jahda simmered down, pinching her lips and tightening her grip on her wounded shoulder.

  Gharrick was smirking, as if anticipating what was to come.

  The god appraised the ground shifter in cool silence.

  Dax blanched and glanced at Brand, who inclined his head as if a question had been asked. Baffled horror crossed the young man’s face and he sank to his knees, to the confusion of his companions.

  “Lord. My humble apologies, I did not realize. Which one—”

  “This is Lord Rhetahn,” Brand said. “The eldest of your hallowed gods. As you damn well should have fathomed.”

  The rest of the ground shifters dropped into shocked bows of their own, foreheads touching the cave floor and weapons angled awkwardly.

  “I beg your forgiveness, Lord,” the young man mumbled. “I had no idea you were here.”

  The god let the silence stretch to uncomfortable levels. “Apology accepted, ground shifter. I’m struggling to believe it also. I don’t like to deny the ministers my ass for too long.”

  Chuckles resounded and even Libby found herself smiling.

  The young man rose from his bow, caution in his graceful movements. “Lord, I wouldn’t presume to ask why you’re not at Trivium, but I urge you to return with haste. The Shifterlands are under attack. This is the fifth demon patrol we’ve destroyed since yesterday.”

  Rhetahn furrowed his brow. “Where are the bastards coming from?”

  “Some from the east through Scabarus Gorge. Others have been spotted in the Central Mountains, heading from the south. We’ve heard rumors an army is massing on the other side, close to Rasp Ridge.”

  “A fucking army?” Gharrick spoke while supporting Jahda, who was slumped against him. “Since when have the demons comprised enough soldiers to warrant an army?”

  Dax shrugged. “It may be hearsay, but there are enough patrols already in the Shifterlands to give it merit. They’re storming your sentry outposts and leaving no one alive, hence why you weren’t aware. I’ve seen several dragon soldiers shot from the sky by magic or killed by harpies. Those bitches are getting bolder as more demons arrive.”

  “Only dragons are being targeted?” The god frowned. “What of your own people and the other races?”

  “The demons aren’t touching them, although we suspect that’s due to our superior numbers. It’s merely a matter of time. We’ve been trying to get to sentry outposts ahead of the demons and I’ve sent scouts to Trivium, to warn you. They must have been waylaid or ambushed.”

  “Lord, we need to get you and the girl back to the castle,” Brand said. “We must complete the ritual, so you regain your strength. Mhaljett, too, must be healed if we are to fight a demon army.”

  “What’s wrong
with Lord Mhaljett?” Dax’s query received no response.

  Rhetahn locked on to Libby. “Are you determined to deny your fate, girl?”

  It appeared their temporary truce was over. Squaring her shoulders, she visualized a stone in her fist, like he’d instructed her earlier. Magic formed in her palm, nuzzling her skin like a happy pet.

  The dragon soldiers tensed, and the ground shifters gaped. Only Rhetahn showed no reaction as he stared at her.

  “I’m going home.” She made her answer steady, hiding the fact she had no clue how to get there. “I’m sorry about your brothers, but you’ll have to find someone else to practice your carving skills on.”

  “You renounce your gods with your selfishness,” Jahda snarled. “You traitorous, faithless, craven...”

  Her dark eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted into Gharrick’s arms. He placed her on the ground gently, as if he’d expected it. Brand knelt by her side, checking her pulse.

  Ignoring his soldiers, Rhetahn addressed Libby. “May I ask you a question, before you leave?”

  His air was almost affable. She nodded warily.

  “According to this young man, some demons are advancing from Scabarus Gorge, near the eastern border.” The god rubbed his chin. “If my memory serves me, the gorge leads to Flat Peak, and beyond that, Paskyll. Thus, we can assume the demons are traveling across your homeland to get here. My question to you is this. If they are murdering dragon shifters here, blatantly, right in front of me and my army, what do you suppose they are doing to the peaceful folk of Paskyll?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Libby stopped breathing at the god’s words. Her gaze fixed on the corpses at her feet and an uncontrollable shudder ran through her. The horrifying idea of such monsters advancing on her village, paralyzing their victims with magic and attacking with blades and pikes. She pictured children fleeing in terror and lifeless bodies piled high as demons swarmed through settlements like a hurricane.

  “I can save them.”

  Rhetahn’s voice brought her back to reality. She tensed again when he edged closer.

  “I understand you’re afraid.” His gaze bored into her, a shocking contrast to his soft voice. “You don’t want to die, but is your will to survive greater than the desire to save your kinfolk? Grant me your blood and life. Give yourself to me and I swear I’ll destroy every demon in Jothesia and avenge our joint dead.”

  She wavered. What was her life, compared to the life of everyone in Paskyll? How could she go home knowing she’d chosen to save her own skin, rather than help her people? Would there be anything left to go back to? She trembled as he reached for the amulets.

  “They’re not being killed.” Dax’s hesitant voice filled the shelter. “My apologies, Lord Rhetahn, I don’t wish to mislead you. Although several demon patrols have come through Paskyll, humans are not being touched.”

  The god stared. “That can’t be right.”

  “Although it’s rumor, I’ve no reason to doubt it. I’ve been told the high sorcerer and his council are heading to Trivium with a company of demons.”

  She blinked. Thassa was in the Shifterlands?

  “They’ve been taken captive?” Brand asked.

  The ground shifter shook his head. “Witnesses say the sorcerers are unharmed and being escorted through Scabarus Gorge.”

  “Since when do demons ally with humans?” Gharrick demanded.

  “Never.” Rhetahn rubbed his hand across his mouth, a distant look in his eyes. “Demons have tyrannized humans since the beginning of time. They hold them in contempt, they always have. Why would they travel with sorcerers? And why now? Why are demons attacking the Shifterlands now?”

  “At the same time as Mhaljett has become unwell,” Brand pointed out. “Coincidence, isn’t it?”

  “Too much so.” The god’s gaze whipped back to her. “Who are you, girl?”

  “Pardon?”

  He glared. “Mhaljett was perfectly fine before you were tied to that fucking altar. What did you do, human? How can you use magic? Are you a sorcerer?”

  “No!”

  “Who are you? Who sent you?”

  “You know who sent me,” she shouted. “Your precious Council of Sorcerers! The spineless bastards who surrender their own people to keep you happy. I wasn’t even supposed to be in the Sanctellium. Thassa made the spell pick me anyway.”

  “Thassa?”

  “The high sorcerer. I’m not surprised you don’t recognize him. You didn’t ask my name when you started carving your damn symbol on my chest.”

  “We’re not supposed to know your identity.”

  She couldn’t prevent her bitter laugh. “I suppose it’s harder to slice someone into pieces when they’re actually a person in your eyes. Well, I’m not answering your questions until you convince me to tell you my name—”

  “Libby.”

  Brand’s flat voice filled her with dismay.

  “She is called Libby,” the warrior said to the god. “The hearthkeeper addressed her thus.”

  Rhetahn furnished the captain with an approving glance. “Libby, what did you mean, Thassa made the spell pick you? Why weren’t you supposed to be there?”

  She pursed her lips. “To you, I’m Lissabet. Only my family and friends call me Libby.”

  In truth, she preferred her nickname to the unusual moniker she’d been accorded, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “As you wish, Lissabet. Now answer my question.”

  Reluctantly, she told them the whole story. While Dax’s men piled the demon corpses at the back of the cave, she elaborated on Thassa’s insistence on her presence and described how the magic sphere hovered above her. She even relayed how her parents made one last-ditch attempt to rescue her from Flat Peak, although she didn’t see the point in mentioning she was adopted.

  “This Thassa became high sorcerer last year?” Dax asked.

  She nodded.

  “What happened to the last one?” Brand scratched his head. “Breibern, wasn’t it?”

  She rewarded his good memory with a small smile. “Correct. He died in an accident last summer, something to do with a flood. I don’t know the details. It was kept rather quiet.”

  “Convenient.” Gharrick crouched beside the unconscious form of Jahda.

  “Indeed.” The god scrutinized her.

  He lunged with such speed she didn’t have time to scream, slamming her against the wall and jerking her arms above her head. Squeezing her fists shut with his large hands, he whispered some unfamiliar words. Magic flared in his hands and her power fizzled like a snuffed candle. The amulets hummed when his bare chest touched hers. He made no effort to snatch them, instead glancing at his soldiers.

  “Captain Brand, return to Trivium with your lieutenants. Instruct the guards to get as many civilians as possible inside the castle walls. Send messengers to call back sentries from the outposts and warn other settlements. Tell them to fly high and hidden.”

  “Lord?” Brand’s dark eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “You don’t mean to accompany us and complete the ritual?”

  Rhetahn shook his head. “There’s something wrong with this sacrifice, and it’s not incidental. Demons escorting human sorcerers through our lands, Mhaljett succumbing to madness and killing”—his voice cracked—“killing Storren.”

  “Lord Storren is dead?” Dax’s mouth fell open.

  The other ground shifters glanced at each other, muttering under their breaths.

  The god clenched his jaw and didn’t answer, as if strictly controlling his emotions. “The high sorcerer must answer some questions prior to me taking this girl anywhere near my home or my brother again.”

  “Lord, please.” The captain’s hovered over Rhetahn’s shoulder as if resisting the urge to grab him. “Why not imprison the girl at Trivium and send a battalion to attack the demons? They can escort the high sorcerer to you.”

  “Get off me, you big oaf.�
� She struggled against Rhetahn’s grip. “You’re not imprisoning me anywhere.”

  Rhetahn pressed harder, sweat beading on his brow as wisps of magic drifted from his fingers. “You’re right, I’m not.”

  She stilled in surprise, as the god addressed the captain. “The high sorcerer is journeying to Trivium with our enemies for a reason. I don’t want him to reach there, so the sacrifice and I will go to him. I should have recuperated enough strength to snatch him from his demon escorts. Assuming he can explain the anomalies of this girl, he can use his magic to help me complete the ritual. That will enable me to destroy many of the demons before they travel deeper into the Shifterlands.”

  “I shall accompany you,” Brand stated.

  The god shook his head again, panting as his magic formed into thin, shimmering cords.

  “I need you in Trivium, my friend.” His voice shook with effort as he bound Libby’s hands with the unbreakable tendrils. “You must organize the defense and aid Mhaljett in my absence. Something sinister has overtaken him and it’s connected with the demons and this girl. He must be confined in the dungeon until we determine what has happened. Can I entrust this task to you?”

  “Of course, my lord, but you cannot mean to fly alone to the council, carrying the sacrifice? I must insist Gharrick escorts you.”

  Rhetahn paused. “I won’t be flying. I’m not recovered enough to shift.”

  Frowns abounded from the soldiers as he allowed Libby to lower her bound hands. She guessed the inability to transform was a grave shortcoming among shifting species.

  “Therefore, it’s imperative Gharrick accompany you,” the captain said. “He’s strong enough to carry you until you regain your strength, and I will send one of my most trusted soldiers to carry the human. Jahda may be well enough to do so, once she has received medical attention.”

  Libby gave the comatose Lieutenant a dubious glance. It didn’t look like Jahda was going to wake up any time soon. She winced, fidgeting against the magic bonds. They were hot against her wrists, and every time she struggled, the heat increased. She grimaced, wishing the half-naked god would move away. His proximity was not helping her temperature...or her temper.