We can’t keep doing this, it spoke in her mind.
“What? We keep winning” she said, whipping the blood off her black blade with a flap of leather she pulled from her scabbard.
They have a purpose here, these things are mindless and yet they seem to have reason, someone is guiding them to do this day and day again.
“So we need to find out who?” she said.
We need to find out where they are coming from, it said.
“Do they have a den?” she asked. She’d always imagined they just sprang fully formed from the snow, they were like dangerous weeds,
They always come from the south, we need to see where they are coming from but we’ll need help.
Her people were hardly in the shape to fight. There were only a few hundred of them left and most were bloated and twisted things still. Some had started to come back to the ways they were. Once they had stopped eating the flesh and come back to the teachings of the moon. Yet still she had only a handful of what she would call warriors. They all huddled in their stone houses, gripped by an unknown fear. She felt it too but fought hard to control it.
The Wolvern seems to know her mind and spoke to her.
We must do what we can, it’s all connected somehow. I can feel Seth still. He is fighting in this in the next place, the Northmen fight in their land and my little princess, she is lost to me. I feel her slipping into the darkness. It’s all one fight thought. If we fail to do our part it will be to the peril of Seth and the others.
“It’s always Seth. Why is that boy always causing trouble?”
The Wolvern laughed. in her mind for the first time in days.
Come on, let’s go save his hide for the hundredth time.
***
It was a feeling Seth knew well. Someone was following him. It was the tale of his life, going towards some unknown destination while people trailed at his heels trying to kill him or stop him. He’d learned long ago that the best course of action was usually to draw his sword and wait but he felt something different this time. He felt scared. He knew whatever or whoever was following him would leave him broken and dead within moments. He had none of his stolen gifts and was just a man. Whatever was making him feel this way was a lot more than that. He felt every step he took in the direction that led him away from it was good, as he walked Seth started to pick up his pace. He walked faster and faster and felt better with every step. He broke and started running.
He sprinted hard up the marble aisle the statues of the various gods passing him by, he’d stopped paying attention to the ones he knew and the ones he didn’t. If he was going to get through this he needed to get to the end and quickly, before whatever was on his heels caught up with him. It may be part of the trials but he didn’t think so. It just felt so wrong. He wished his friends were here. Even Silver and the Wolvern would be welcome company in this dangerous place.
As he ran he screamed out with fear and rage. “Fucking get on with it!” he closed his eyes for a moment as he ran and when he opened them he saw it. He was finally at the end of this stone crypt of statues. There was a large door at the end of the corridor. The sight of it filled him with hope. He hit the wooden door hard and pulled it open. Inside, of course, was pitch darkness. He threw it open and dived inside, shutting the door behind him.
Seth sat in the darkness, the only sound his breath slowly coming back from the ragged chaos. He had no idea what had happened to him. He’d never felt that way before. Complete mindless terror. As he sat, his thoughts too calmed and soon he almost laughed at how silly he’d been. What was he running from? Seth crawled forward on his hand and knees and then slowly stood. He started to walk in the darkness. This time, it felt good. He was safe here. Seth walked on in front of him and he started to make out shapes and shadows. A light was slowly filling the room until it was like a faint white fog bank, he walked through it and did laugh out loud. He was back standing on the deck of The Opulent.
He could hear the waves lapping against the side of the heavy wooden ship. Next to him was Elizebetha taunting The man Captain Ramon. He reached out to her and hugged her. Snake Tongue had spoken truly, his last trial was to justify his actions and the old man had shown him that it was right to kill this man, it was the Northern way, kill an enemy.
He stepped into the arena as without a thought and faced the man. He saw the rage in his face. He’d been insulted and wanted to protect his honor. They exchanged cuts and Seth floated as if in a dream. He knew the man’s moves and matched them with ease. He saw the man grow enraged and knew once again the moment was coming. He was to let him run onto the blade. He had drawn against Seth and must die. Seth was troubled, though. Surely this man was the wronged party. Insulted, taunted and then set to face someone’s more skilled than himself, how was it right to kill him? He had a brother and clearly a family, would they thank Seth for holding to the old Northern code that was created for a different time and a much more brutal world.
Officer Ramon ran at Seth and without a moment’s hesitation Seth sidestepped the man. He grabbed him roughly around the neck and locking it into his elbow pressed hard on the back of his head. The big man slowly sank to the wooden deck of the ship and then faded away from sight. Seth stood again and the deck of the ship was empty. If he’d passed or failed he knew not, but if he had to do it again he’d do it the same.
Seth stepped from the arena and expected the old man to appear but he didn’t, he was alone and the fresh sea air and the cold breeze felt good. The ship was sailing somewhere but he knew not, probably not to Bloodcrest, he felt this was far from over. In the sky above him Seth saw a light, it was like a glowing red that floated down to the ship. It hit the tip of the mast and ran along like an arch of fire until it was all around him. He was engulfed by a red light. He stood trying not to be afraid but felt a glow of warmth and protection.
He heard the buzzing sound he’d heard in the arena, it grew in his mind until he collapsed to the floor in pain. He screamed. “Stop it is too loud!” He thought something was talking to him but it was so much worse than even the Wolvern first attempts, slowly the buzzing stopped and reduced. As he looked a shape began to form in the red and take the shape of a person.
It was a woman, he knew her, the Lucky Lady. She looked like every statue he’d ever seen of her but made from a faint glowing light, which slowly turned solid until she was just like a real woman. Power seemed to radiate from her body. Behind her he could see the shapes of other people but none were clear. She spoke actual words and not in his mind.
“Is this ok?” she said in a soft voice.
He stood and looked at her. This was just too strange, actual gods, actual beings it was beyond belief.
She laughed. reading his thoughts.
“Oh we're real enough, just like you, just think of us as a rare animal that can only be seen in this place and only if we want you to. You’ve done well little Druheim. I was chosen to speak with you because I have the most practice. I’m always meddling with your mortal affairs, some of the others are a bit scared they might accidentally kill you.”
Seth put his hands to his ear and it came away with blood, his head still ached.
“A valid concern,” he said back.
She laughed again. “You’re weak, we know, but sadly we are too in our own ways, now I’ll let you ask me a question before I start talking and before you say yes or no remember who I am. I’m nice to look at but I’m still myself” she said.
“Have I passed?” he said.
She laughed again and waved her hand as if waving away something small. “Oh yes you passed, good you don’t like killing innocent people that’s good. We’ll send you back later on if you survive.”
“Survive what, aren't the trials are done?”
“Imagine the world with no gods but one, no rules but do what you want and take what you want, no mercy but only greed and pain. Imagine the fear you felt in that room spread across the world in which you know. Imagine the land of
the dead come to the land of the living. Now comes one who would bring this vision for. One like us, or rather one from before us. We’ve spent many of your lifetimes stopping him again and again but now he has finally what he needs, we are weak, he is strong and we can’t beat him alone.”
“What do you need from me,” Seth said with a sigh.
“What we’ve always needed from a Druheim, to be our sword and shield.”
Putting out her hands he felt all the memories he’d taken come rushing back. His body felt strong again, glowing with power.
“Are you ready to be the Druheim once more?”
“What choice do I have?” Seth asked.
“Well you could just leave now, but of course, everyone you’ve ever loved will be dead or wishing they were.”
“Like I said, what choice do I have?”
Chapter Thirty-Three.
Goldie woke with a different bucket of water in the face, he was getting sick of this. He opened his eyes slowly to see the face of the boy above him. He was grinning ear to ear. Goldie felt his jaw aching like sin, he was laying in mud, shit and had flown from his small wooden chair. He lay literally meters from the table. Looking up he saw the guards holding back the man from him, he had a drawn dagger and a look of murder in his eyes.
Goldie stood up quickly and looked around. The crowd was howling with laughter but the man wasn’t.
“A cruel jest friend to make you lose, her honor is intact,” he needed to cool this man down before he broke free of the two guards struggling to hold him and more blood was spilled.
“What? A trick, but the mark, you said.”
The girl came running up to her father. She whispered in his ear and Goldie watched the man’s rage fade as he beheld the pockets full of gold coins she held. The man hugged her hard.
“She always was the smart one. Sorry about the jaw,” he muttered and walked off with his daughter.
The boy brushed some mud off his back.
“That was so funny, you went flying through the air like a sack of flour. I should have made a bet on how far you’d go, at least five paces.”
“Shut up,” Goldie snapped.
His plan had worked but clearly he hadn’t thought it through, his head was swimming and his jaw felt like he’d been kicked by a horse. Still, feeling his jaw it wasn’t broken and no teeth missing. The priest of the temple walked up to Goldie and held his hand high.
“The winner by way of the other man getting barred from the match, Goldie,” he said.
The crowd cheered and cheered. He’d won against the champion, in a way, and provided them all with a lot of laughs.
“Ok kid what’s next. I can’t take much more of this,” he said.
“It’s ok there are only two to go, but even if you lose now, you’ve got a lot of fans out there, you’ll still be called the Ladies champion by many,” he said.
“I need to win and then we’ll have a party, she needs a proper flock of believers, they are coming around but they still need proof, now the challenges.”
“Next is drinking and then the sword fight, like I said this is the hard part, the sword fight draws proper warriors and unlike you, they won’t be drunk.
“First things first, let’s get drunk, any rules?”
“You can’t spill more than a sip or two from each mug, you can choose the drink so long as it’s strong, wine, ale, mead, spirits, you can’t throw up and if you pass out your done.”
The boy led Goldie shakily to back to the tables, they had pushed them all together and there were a lot of people in this. Clearly it was the highlight of the day. At least, fifty people sat at the tables. From workers to soldiers to real down and out gutter living wine drinkers. It was going to be tough.
He sat next to the tough mercenary who had done archery.
“You’ve done well lad, this part is just fun, we have a drink and talk shit for an hour or so, you skull your drink when he rings the bell and he rings it a lot, you going for mead?
“We’ll we are Northern right, let’s go with what we know.”
“They do say a Northman was weaned on mead and not milk, how old were you when you had your first drink.
“Eight or so.”
The man laughed. “Bloody late starter!” A serving girl poured a smallish clay cup of mead for him and a row of others.
“Doesn’t look too bad,” he said to the man, as the bell rang, Goldie drank it down and was thankful it was coldish.
The girls all poured again and within a long minute, he heard the bell ring again.
After the bell had been rung ten times, his jaw didn’t ache anymore. After twenty, more than half the people had left the table to piss or be sick. The main competition was the man next to him. He’d kept up a constant conversation the whole way. After twenty-five Goldie was starting to sway in his little seat, he was glad for the chatter so he could gauge just how drunk he was. He felt his head start to drop and he was struggling to keep his eyes open.
The serving girl who was a little brown hair scrap clapped loudly in front of his face.
“Wake up Mister Goldie. I’ve money on you” she said quietly.
He roused and looked at her, maybe it was the mead but she looked good. Skinny and with a cute little face covered in a brown fringe. The surge of lust woke him a little.
“Hello, what’s your name?”
She laughed as he drained another cup and she poured another.
“I’ll do a lot more than tell you my name if you win,” she said.
That helped as well, he shook his head from the booze and smiled at her.
“Helping me are you?” Goldie said.
“I like the lady and I like you, you’re big. I like big Northman and the money too,” she winked at him and he saw her slide a small bottle from her sleeve and pour it into his next drink. He was hesitant to just drink it but he had to trust her.
As it went down his throat it burned all the way down and tasted awful mixed with the mead. The felt the strange liquid in him thought. A surge of energy hit him and his head started to clear.
“What was that?” he whispered as she came close to pour another one.
“Oh, just something my mother uses on my father when he’s too tired to perform, now drink up you’re only half way.”
***
It was a dangerous game, pretending to be sweet. The problem was you talked in a soft voice acted caring to everyone and you started to make yourself a soft little girl. She’d stopped being nice many years ago and it was a lot easier to do what you needed to when you cared not for other people's opinion of you.
This lady, her former sister as she said, Angelina, was weak. She pretended to be hard but, in fact, she was scared. She seemed all full of anger and rage but Minsetta could tell it just covered hurt. They were making a very poor attempt at torturing her. She’d been tortured before. Sometimes she caught the Red shirts, sometimes they caught her and they knew how to do things properly. Women haters with a real self-righteous zeal about their work.
She was tied to a large wooden cross that was set in the basement. It was a cold dark room filled with candlelight. The wood was cold against her bare arms and an unknown person ripped her fine dress at the back to show her back, she heard them gasp when they saw the crisscross of scars, not my first time she thought.
She heard them take up the whip and felt it come down against her fine brown skin. She winced in pain but didn’t scream. If felt bad but good. She felt she’d been so locked up in this shell of being nice and good and they were just helping break it down. The whip fell again and again and she screamed, the pain of her ripped flesh being hit, again and again, she heard the wet sounds of leather in blood.
“Fucking do it properly,” she screamed, that should throw them.
These women were idiots. She’d come here a broken and lost thing. She’d had her first run in with the Red shirt when they had destroyed her circle. She’d tried to use her powers to allow people to say goodbye. I
t was a good use of a dark gift. She’d always had the skills to commune with the other side. As a child it was just feelings and emotions, she was always a strange child, yet she’d been shown a few things by her mother and then more when she’d met her first member of the Dark Guild. He was a nobody in the order but had sought to impress her with his books and trinkets, he had. She realized there was a lot more to this world than what she’d been told. Still they were too dark and she’d turned to the light and look how that had worked out.
She realized the person whipping her was in fact, Angelina, she felt the hits growing slower as she tired.
“Why did you do it? Why leave and why take it?” She asked.
Why did she take it, it, was a book, it was called the rites of fury and she took it to buy herself into the good graces of the Guild. She’d realized by then they were the only ones who could be trusted, they wanted power for themselves, they worshiped their own greed, understandable and predictable.
“You know why I left, you’re all liars here, you take the hurt and tormented and you turn them into killers,” she spat.
“You never minded when you profited from it,” she said back.
“You talk about vengeance for women against wicked men, but you we were taking orders from the red shirts. The very ones who tried to kill me, killed my friends and are fucking up the very order of things,” Minsetta spat.
“You never understood sister this is so much bigger than you,” the woman put her scarred face close to her shoulder and looked into her eyes. Minsetta saw madness there. “We have to do as the Furies command, soon the change will be here in the world and we will be the only ones left standing.”
She snapped her head back hard into the woman’s face, and using all her strength ripped the leather lashes at her hands. On her back the wounds had healed and the skin was fresh and pure. The woman laid on the ground holding her face as blood poured out.
Take My Heart...: Dark Ages - Fantasy (Dark Gods & Tainted Souls Book 3) Page 17
