Ariss felt no relief at the revelation. Her mind was awhirl with possibilities. Cool air washed over her, tightening her exposed nipples. Protectively, she crossed her arms, covering her chest. When she took a steadying breath, she tasted the combined aroma of her and Kerrick on his body. The rich, musky scent of their lovemaking calmed her despite her agitation.
Haltingly, she asked, “Who are you?” Had some other god possessed him? What kind of world were they living in if powerful beings could command them on a whim? Or was it a whim? Ariss had no idea what Kerrick had been doing since he’d left their rooms this morning. Just what had Kerrick tried to do?
Ignoring her, Kerrick, or whoever commanded his body, stomped over to the throne. He grasped the stone phallus in one mighty fist and snapped it free. Lifting his head to the leering face of Tavarus, he bellowed, “I will punish you, Tavarus! You can’t escape my wrath!” Shaking the broken-off stone penis at his carved likeness, Kerrick added, “And this time I will do the same to your pathetic cock!” With a snarl of fury, he tossed the chunk of stone aside.
Ariss backed slowly away, angling toward the door, hoping that if she escaped him, the guards could protect her and capture him without bloodshed.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Kerrick’s voice was so low it rumbled toward her, caressing over her shoulders, holding her like a compelling whisper.
“Please, I don’t know who you are,” Ariss said. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
Kerrick thrust an accusing finger at her belly. “You carry his child.”
Ariss hugged one arm tighter across her breasts but lowered the other to her belly. Desperately, she tried to determine who would be so angry that she carried Tavarus’ child. Terror kept her mind a confused jumble, preventing her from thinking clearly. Every time she took a step toward the safety of the exit, Kerrick took one as well, flashing her a gleeful smile. Whoever was in there was daring her to run because he or she would enjoy pursuing her.
“Stop it!” Ariss cried. It was bad enough that whoever was in there was tormenting her, but that they used Kerrick to do so was beyond cruel.
“Stop it!” Kerrick mimicked, lifting his hands, spreading his arms wide, ready to grab her no matter what direction she went.
Frustrated, terrified, filled with such anxiety she could hardly catch her breath, Ariss demanded, “Tell me who you are.”
“I am the goddess Varnatha!” Kerrick tossed his hands into the air.
Ariss jumped back, convinced that lightning bolts would descend from the sky. All that happened was Kerrick’s pants fell down to his ankles. If she wasn’t so frightened, she might have laughed.
“What the—” he bent over to yank them up.
Donlan erupted from the side, knocking Kerrick over. Lifting his blade on high, Donlan bellowed a battle cry. Light glistened off his dagger as Donlan’s arm swept down.
“No!” Ariss yelled, diving toward their entwined bodies. She managed to knock Donlan’s blade aside before he could plunge the metal deep into Kerrick’s chest.
In a timeless moment, her eyes locked on to Kerrick’s, hoping that the god within would depart. To her horror, his pupils widened until both eyes turned glossy black. No whiteness, no color; his eyeballs turned into fathomless pools of darkness.
“Kerrick?”
Donlan lifted his blade in one hand and tried to hold her back with the other.
“Don’t!” she commanded. “He’s not fighting you!”
Donlan stopped struggling with her. They both looked down at Kerrick. Perfectly still, he lay on his back, his sightless black eyes pointed toward the ceiling.
“They’re in me,” he whispered weakly.
“Who?” Donlan asked.
Ariss shushed him.
“Tavarus and Varnatha.”
Placing herself right above Kerrick, so that without moving his head he could see her, she sternly said, “Leave, Tavarus. If you hurt him, you won’t be able to have me anymore.” To save Kerrick, she was willing to go back to appeasing Tavarus’ lust.
A snarl darted across Kerrick’s face. “I’ll kill you!” Just as he reached up to place his hands around her neck, he stopped and bellowed, “I won’t let you!”
Ariss could see the struggle between the god and goddess within Kerrick’s body.
As his eyes slowly drifted closed, he whispered, “She won’t let him have me.” He drew a pained breath. “He won’t let her kill you.”
Tavarus and Varnatha battled for control of Kerrick and there wasn’t anything she could do.
Kerrick lay on his back in the center of Ariss’ bed, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. His once gloriously golden hair lay limp, brushed back from his face in lifeless clumps.
Ariss sat beside him, tracks of tears dried on her face. Nothing had changed after a quarter cycle. Nine days and nights of utter agony. Neither Tavarus nor Varnatha would give up. While they fought, Kerrick wasted away.
The doctors wanted to force nutrients into him, but keeping him alive would only prolong the war within. Varnatha and Tavarus were tenacious. Both were warriors without mercy who never backed away from a fight. They would battle over Kerrick until he drew his last breath. Once that happened, they would simply depart and go back to Jarasine, killing the man she loved and leaving her life in a shambles as they found something new to battle over. How could anyone worship such childish gods?
“How is he?” Donlan asked as he stood behind her.
With Kerrick’s condition, Donlan had become her protector. He was a good man, honest and steadfast to a fault. Ariss sensed there was more to his vigilance than his desire to be a good protector. At times, when she caught him looking at her, unaware of her attention, she saw something like love shining in his eyes. When he caught her looking, he would hurriedly glance away, guilt stamping clear lines on his handsome face. He’d made no overt overtures to her, and probably never would, but his longing was still there, lurking just below the surface.
“The same.” Ariss kept her gaze riveted to Kerrick’s face. “I thought I saw a flicker of movement in his eyes, but it might have been just wishful thinking.” In his state, Kerrick didn’t even dream. Neither she nor the doctors had seen any indication of eye movement. Or any movement. He lay so perfectly still he was like a statue.
Donlan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You should rest.”
She placed her hand atop his. “How can I when he lies here, alone, fighting against inexhaustible foes?”
Donlan had no answer. “I will have them bring you something to eat.”
Nodding absently, she smoothed Kerrick’s shirt for the thousandth time. She hadn’t felt hungry since the confrontation in the temple, but she ate anyway, for her child. Because as she sat here, holding Kerrick’s hand and smoothing cool cloths to his forehead, she continued to cling to hope that somehow, he would vanquish the selfish gods within and then they could be together.
Her deepest wish was that all three of them could find a small bit of happiness. She didn’t care where they lived or what they did, she would be happy just to be together. All her silly dreams of living in the forest meant nothing if she couldn’t have Kerrick there with her. As the days rolled slowly into one another, even that tiny hope grew ever more dim. Right before her eyes, Kerrick was disappearing.
One of her servants approached with a small tray of food. The young girl placed it beside Ariss, bowed, and backed away. Ariss ate absently. Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. Everything tasted the same, chalky and bland. All she could think of was how much she hated Tavarus. She hated him with a white-hot rage that no amount of cool reasoning could ever dampen. Never in her life had she wished ill on another, but if she could, she would kill Tavarus herself.
In spite of her loathing toward Tavarus, she loved her child. Tenderly, she cupped her hand to her belly. He was an innocent. A part of her wanted to join Kerrick and waste away until they were nothing but dust together, but she couldn’t harm her child
. Moreover, she realized Kerrick wouldn’t want her to die to be with him. He would want her to live on, strong, raising her child to be a loving, responsible man, because if nothing else, Ariss would teach him how to behave. Her child would not be a self-absorbed spoiled child that would grow up to be a self-indulged god. Not if she had anything to say about it.
Briefly, Ariss had thought of appealing to Varnatha, but jealousy consumed the goddess. She would never let go of Kerrick so that Tavarus could use him to mount her again.
During her vigil at Kerrick’s bedside, several people had come to pay their respects and to offer suggestions. Ariss had listened with great hope, but her optimism quickly faded when no one came up with a solution that would work. Several people suggested killing Kerrick to force the gods from his body. Once they departed, they could just bring Kerrick back to life. Ariss pointed out that Tavarus would simply return once Ker-rick was alive again. She wasn’t sure about Varnatha; speculation was that Kerrick had invited her in to fight off Tavarus. His death would revoke her invitation, but that still left Tavarus. Knowing that Kerrick had brought Varnatha in to fight him off would only anger the childish god; Ariss couldn’t even fathom what Tavarus would do in retaliation.
Another suggested trying to invoke the supreme god who ruled over all the gods in Jarasine, but Ariss didn’t want any more gods involved, especially not one with more power than all of them combined. Orsolua was said to be both male and female, with all the powers of the other gods and goddesses combined. Still, who knew what Orsolua was actually like? Ariss had no idea what placing a third god in Kerrick would do. If two made him catatonic, three would probably kill him outright. Moreover, the gods and goddesses had minds of their own. Each had their own agenda that clearly didn’t involve helping mere mortals. Adamantly, Ariss had insisted that there be no more divine interference.
When she had issued her edict, Donlan had grimaced, dropped his gaze to the floor, and turned slightly away. That’s when she knew he had sought out a god, hoping to curry favor. She confronted Donlan and he fell to his knees, apologizing so profusely that she found his obsequious behavior embarrassing. She hurriedly forgave him, but warned him to make no further efforts along those lines. Donlan pleaded his case, insisting that he could reach Tavarus if only she would let him, but she put her foot down. In the end, Donlan relented, bowing to her wishes.
Scholars, acolytes, and even the empress herself had devoted countless hours to finding a solution, but they all came up empty. Bithia could not have been more kind; she gave Ariss leave to use whatever resources she needed to help Kerrick.
“He is far too fine a man to die so young,” Bithia said, her rough-hewn hand gripping Ariss’ hand with such compassion, Ariss felt the emotion right down to her bones. She had thanked her greatly, then turned back to her lonely vigil.
As night fell, her servants drifted away, and the guards left to their posts outside her door. Donlan was loath to join them.
“I wish to stay in here with you.”
Even though she hadn’t really done anything all day but worry over Kerrick, she was exhausted and far to weary to deal with Donlan’s infatuation.
“There is nothing else for you to do, Donlan. Please, I ask you to return to your rooms until morning.”
He looked to argue the point, but in the end, perhaps softened by her drained tone, he bowed slightly and left her rooms with his head hung low.
She and everyone knew that very soon, if they couldn’t find a solution, Kerrick would die, possibly even this night.
In the silence of the room, Ariss could hear Kerrick’s slow drawing in and exhaling of breath. Even, steady, almost like a heartbeat, he moved air into and out of his lungs. How much longer would he be able to do so? What horrors were happening to him within the borders of his mind?
Ariss curled next to him, snuggling her body close as she did every night, hoping that her nearness eased his pain in some way. Gently, she lifted his hand and placed his palm on her belly so he could feel the child within. Tavarus’ or not, Kerrick loved her child. His great concern for her extended to the life she carried. As her protector, he’d been willing to die to keep her and the baby safe.
“I love you, Kerrick.”
Each night before she closed her eyes, she whispered those words to his ear. Right afterward tears welled, forcing their way out from between her closed lids. She tried not to weep, but she couldn’t stop. Ariss cried for what she hadn’t done, for what she could have done, for what she should have done. As he had for the last nine nights, Kerrick stayed perfectly still, his breathing a soothing rhythm that ushered her into slumber.
Just as sleep tugged her down into blissful nothingness, she bolted awake, sitting upright.
She’d felt movement.
Filled with joy, she looked down to Kerrick’s hand, but it just lay limply against her. While she was staring at him, she felt another tickle of movement.
“My baby.”
Wrapping her hands around her belly, she hugged him through her skin, holding him as if she would never let go.
21
Kerrick existed in a nightmare world. Tavarus and Varnatha battled endlessly. He stood by the wayside, observing, unable to intervene, to speak, to do anything but watch them fight. Weapon after weapon manifested in their hands. Wound after blood-gushing wound appeared on their bodies. Nothing slowed them down. No injury was great enough to make them stop. They were immortal beings that would never tire, never die. Kerrick no longer thought they battled over him. Now it seemed to be fighting for the sheer sake of fighting.
Kerrick regretted every petty argument he’d ever had with Ariss. Had he known what little time they had together, he wouldn’t have wasted a moment. What really devastated him was that he’d never told her he loved her. He was certain that she knew, but he’d liked to have said the words all the same. For once in his life, he wanted to say those words to a woman and mean them as more than pillow talk.
Sometimes, as he stood watching Tavarus and Varnatha hurt each other, he felt Ariss was near. He felt her tears, her pain, and her grief. In those moments, he tried to move, to reach out. He wanted to give her some indication he was still here. He wanted to comfort her, but the rage between the combatants held him immobile. They refused to release him until one of them emerged triumphant. Sadly for him, they were evenly matched.
Kerrick had all the time in the world to contemplate his life. He’d made so many mistakes because of his impulsive nature. In his haste, he willingly allowed Varnatha to possess him. His motive in doing so was pure, but no less stupid.
Still, he knew, given a second chance, he would likely make the same mistakes all over again. It was a hard lesson to learn, but he had to accept that his heart ruled him, not his head. He wanted to think of himself as an emotionless man who followed logic and reason, but he wasn’t. Emotions had a greater hold over him than he wanted to admit. His need to connect his feelings to those around him fueled his interest in gossip.
Varnatha whacked Tavarus’ arm off with a mighty blow. Before she could celebrate, he grew a new one.
Kerrick sighed.
“They won’t ever stop.”
Kerrick looked around, but he was alone in the misty whiteness. Great, he thought, now he was hearing voices.
“Of course you’re hearing voices. Well, a voice. I am speaking to you, after all.”
The voice wasn’t one he recognized.
“That’s because you haven’t met me.”
“Who are you?” Kerrick asked the air.
“I’m your son.”
Now he knew he was hallucinating. He didn’t have any children. He’d been with many women, but that was something he’d always taken great care with; controlling the birth of children was his primary focus just before pleasure.
“Until Ariss.”
Kerrick wasn’t sure if he said those two words or his hallucination had. Struck by the truth, Kerrick wanted to pelt this new speaker with questions, but he
didn’t dare. He didn’t want the voice, hallucination or not, to leave. He was sick of being alone. And anyone, even a figment of his imagination, was better than nothing. Besides, he had a feeling all of this was just another way to hold out hope. What better way to pacify himself than to imagine he spoke to the child Ariss carried? He hadn’t allowed himself to really see the child as his, even though he’d felt in his heart he was, because he feared what Tavarus would do in retaliation.
“They can’t see me unless I want them to.” A young man stood beside him, dressed in simple black trousers, his hands clasped behind his back. “Only you can see me.”
Kerrick congratulated himself for imagining such a striking man as his son. He saw a combination of himself and Ariss in his face. If possible, his son had the best of both their features: gray-green eyes, high-angled cheekbones, a strong, square chin, and deep brown hair with golden highlights. Luckily, he’d inherited Kerrick’s build: strong shoulders, narrow hips, and muscular arms. Shirtless, his chest was surprisingly free of hair. Around the upper portion of his right arm, a black band of sharp angles against a parallel line encircled his entire bicep.
Kerrick’s stomach lurched. Darting his gaze between his son and Tavarus, Kerrick realized the mark upon each was the same.
His son noticed him looking at the mark. He laughed. “I am bound to Tavarus, but I do not follow him. I am bound to her as well.” His son nodded to Varnatha.
Kerrick noticed that she, too, had the mark embedded into her skin, but not on her arm; her mark encircled her upper right thigh.
“The mark doesn’t mean I am his or her disciple. Rather … the opposite, in fact.”
Kerrick didn’t know what the opposite was. “Tavarus and Varnatha are your disciples?” He asked the question in jest, but his son calmly considered for a very long time before he answered.
“In the future they are.”
His son’s voice was so composed and controlled, it caused a shiver along Kerrick’s spine.
“Those two”—Kerrick pointed to the battling war gods—“worship you?”
[The Onic Empire 03] - Sinful Harvest Page 27
