by Tara West
“It is, but it’s not driving away my fear of demons.” He gazed at the abandoned empire. A low howl echoed in the distance.
She turned to Zier. “I don’t think we should camp close to that city.”
He frowned. “There is no other option than for us to return to the forest.”
“Just for one more night,” she said, motioning to a copse of trees beneath an outcropping of rocks. “Or up there.” She pointed to the rocks.
“Very well,” Zier grumbled, warily eyeing the abandoned kingdom as if he expected his dead ancestors to rise and chase them.
AFTER DIANNA RELIEVED herself behind a thick band of bushes, she unrolled her furs and climbed under them. They’d decided to camp on the narrow ledge of rocks that overlooked both forest and empire. That way they could keep eyes on both menaces.
Ryne and Tar had first watch. They sat on a boulder, Ryne’s crystal eyes standing out against the black night sky.
No sooner had Zier fallen into his bedroll than he was soundly snoring. They had made no fire, lest Borg or some other creature find them. Sleep eluded her. She was still hungry after eating only a handful of dried meats for supper. And then there was the matter of Simeon. The hurt in his eyes from yesternight still weighed heavily on her heart. She did not like causing him pain. Her friend had always been cheerful and lighthearted, finding ways to make her smile with the silliest of jokes, but he’d been all stony looks and frowns today, trudging through the forest as if his feet were made of bricks. It was all her fault. Curse her immortality! What she wouldn’t give to live a normal life. She’d never asked to be born the daughter of a goddess, doomed to live out a lonely eternity.
“Why the long face, Dianna?” Simeon asked.
She leaned up on one elbow and looked over at him. She didn’t know if she felt aggravated or thrilled at the way he stared so intently at her. “I don’t know. Just thinking.”
“Aletha was just telling me something interesting.” He batted thick lashes and twirled a fairy dust petal between his fingers. “Something about how you were admiring my bare chest when we were traveling to Aloa-Shay.” He flashed a grin so devilish, she expected pixie horns to sprout from his head. So much for his sulkiness.
Heat flushed her cheeks. “I-I didn’t know she talked to you.”
“They all do,” Simeon answered.
Traitors, she thought.
We are not traitors, Sindri admonished. We’re just tired of listening to you pine over the sand dweller.
“Then stay out of my head,” she grumbled.
Where’s the fun in that? Neriphene laughed.
She sat up, hoping the bedroll hadn’t messed her hair up too much. Not that she should care if she looked pretty for him. “Don’t listen to the stones.” Unable to stand his scrutiny another moment, she broke eye contact after a few seconds. “They are only joking.”
“Are they?” He arched a brow, then stretched, letting the flaps on his shirt fall open, exposing an expanse of dark, muscular chest. The relentless flirt!
“You don’t give up, do you?”
“I admit I was feeling sorry for myself earlier today, but the stones have rallied my spirits.” The sideways smile he flashed her turned her knees to butter. Curse the teasing sand dweller!
“Remind me to thank them later.” She didn’t bother masking her bitterness.
His smile faded, replaced with a look so severe, she feared he was about to impart some horrible news. “Do you remember your promise?”
She blinked at him. “What promise?”
“That you would let me kiss you after we defeat Madhea.”
The impish smile returned, and she didn’t know if she wanted to slap him senseless or kiss him silly. She turned her back on him, pounding the furs under her as if that would make the hard ground more forgiving. “We should get some rest.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to go back on your word.” He sounded heartbroken, as if he’d watched her drown a sack of newborn kittens.
She blinked up at the stars, then heaved a sigh, fearing she’d get little sleep this night. “I didn’t say that.”
“Do you know how many girls I have kissed since I’ve met you?”
“No.” She turned to face him. She couldn’t help herself. Not that she wanted to know every juicy detail of Simeon’s love life.
“None, unless you count the time I tried with you,” he answered, his piercing golden gaze so unnerving, she had to squeeze her hands to repress a shudder. “Remember that day?”
“I do, and I remember how hard I slapped you.” She slid beneath the furs and prayed he’d leave her be. “We really should go to sleep.”
“Why?” He laughed. “Are you afraid I’ll try to kiss you now?”
She wanted to say something wicked and clever, but a strange howl broke her concentration. She bolted upright. “Did you hear that?” It was like the wail of an injured child. Could it be a ghost? For she could have sworn the sound was coming from the Empire of Shadows.
Simeon’s brows drew together. “It sounds like a baby crying.”
She looked over at Zier, who’d scrambled out of his bedroll and was slipping into his boots.
“What is it, Zier?” she asked, stunned when he went straight for his pack and not his weapon.
“’Tis a sacrifice.” He shrugged into the pack.
“A what?” She quickly slipped into her boots and rolled up her bed, aware of Simeon doing the same.
Zier’s heavy pack pushed him forward as he made the slow descent down the cliffside with the dexterity of a goat. “They usually don’t sacrifice babies until fall.”
“Who?” She shoved the bedroll into her pack. Wherever Zier was going, she didn’t want to be left behind.
“The giants,” he said as he marched across the clearing toward the tall grasses.
“The giants? Wait up!”
She slipped down the rocks, almost twisting her ankle when it got stuck inside a crevice, grateful when Simeon lent her a hand. She raced up to Zier, chest heaving. She was surprised by the new worry lines creasing his eyes.
“Where do you think the dwarves get our adopted children?”
She shared a bewildered look with Simeon. “I-I don’t understand.”
Zier grimaced as the wailing grew louder. “We have to help that baby.”
“That sound is coming from the Empire of Shadows.” Ryne came barreling up to them. Tar followed, sounding stressed.
Zier nodded. “That’s where they do the sacrifices, at an old dwarf temple.”
“Hang on.” Ryne threw up his hands. “We’re not going to the Empire of Shadows.”
“That child will die if we do nothing.” Zier’s stony glare would’ve melted any man except Ryne.
The ice dweller was either too bold or too pig-headed, or both, to back down from the trader. “How do we know the giants aren’t still there?”
Zier trudged once more toward the cries. “They leave before nightfall.”
Dianna and Simeon followed, but Ryne pushed ahead of them getting in front of Zier and blocking his path. “And what about the other creatures?”
“What about the other creatures?” Zier grumbled, plowing Ryne out of the way, nearly knocking him on his arse with the top end of his pack. “Do you not hear how loud that baby is crying?”
Ryne was not to be deterred; he dogged the dwarf’s heels. “Yes, and I’m sure every predator in Werewood Forest has heard as well.”
“Which is why we need to reach the baby before they do.” Zier quickened his pace.
The dwarf had crossed the small clearing and was almost to the tall grasses, where Dianna feared she’d lose sight of him.
Ryne latched onto the dwarf’s pack, stopping him before he disappeared into the field.
Zier turned around with a start, raising his hatchet to Ryne’s throat. “Keep yer filthy blue hands off my pack.”
Dianna stopped as if she’d struck a wall, her heart in her throat. She loathed fighting and didn’
t want to have to flatten them. When the baby’s cries intensified, she instinctively grabbed Simeon’s hand.
“We’re wasting time,” Simeon grumbled. “Step aside, Ryne.”
Zier nodded his approval. “You took the words outta my mouth.”
Ryne knocked Zier’s blade aside with his bare hand. “We’re not going to the Empire of Shadows.”
“Speak for yourself, Ryne.” Dianna gritted her teeth. “I’m going.”
“So am I,” Simeon agreed.
She smiled at him, grateful for his courage, and once more wondered why he thought she’d prefer Ryne over him.
“Siren’s teeth!” Ryne stomped his foot like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “Are you all mad? And what are you going to do with the baby once you find it? We can’t exactly carry it with us.”
Zier straightened his shoulders, his heavy pack creaking with the movement. “I will stay with the child.”
Dianna gulped. “And miss trading with the Ice People?”
Zier shrugged, then turned his back on them and marched into the field. His pack poked out the top of the grasses.
Simeon pulled Dianna along. “We need to go before we lose him.”
She sucked in a sharp breath when they were engulfed by the grass, its dry, brittle stems breaking apart as Zier cleared the way, hacking them with his hatchet.
Simeon continued to pull her along. “Don’t let go,” she whispered.
“Never,” he answered.
She didn’t know whether to be relieved or unnerved by his answer, but decided to settle on relief—for now.
“Curse the Elements!” Ryne said behind them. “Wait up!” The ice dweller and his dog trailed behind them.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” she said.
Ryne’s cold glare could have melted Madhea’s ice caps. “And leave you stupid slogs to fight the monsters by yourselves?”
“Aw, and here I thought you had no heart.” She laughed. “Are you sure it’s not because you didn’t want to be left alone?”
Ryne didn’t need to answer. Tar’s whimpers were answer enough.
MADHEA ADMIRED HER reflection in the looking glass, hardly believing the beautiful young face staring back at her. Her magic was so strong now, she could summon a powerful wind or thunderbolts with hardly any effort. Now that her beauty and strength had been restored, it was time for her to seduce the blue man. Her plan simply had to work. She had to reach the Ice People before Dianna reached her, for she needed leverage before waging a battle with her daughter.
She finished dragging a brush through her hair, which was as soft as a bird’s wing, and then applied lavender oil to her already smooth and supple skin. With a confident smile, she fluttered out of her chamber to the blue man’s door with only one plan in mind—earn his trust by seduction. It seemed simple enough, and from what she could tell, he was spineless and weak. She would prevail. Her life depended on it.
Chapter Thirteen
Dianna feared they’d never make it to the baby in time. The Shadow Empire looked small on the map and even from a distance, but it truly had been a great city, with a maze of brick roads and tall buildings. Though the place was in ruins, she respected the architectural details of the crumbling structures. Most appeared to have been made of smooth stone and mortar, many with fancy trim and smiling dwarf faces carved under the windows and eaves. She wondered why the dwarves had abandoned this place.
They hacked their way through overgrown weeds and climbed over the rubble of toppled buildings for what felt like hours. By the time they reached the old dwarf temple, she was out of breath and the babe’s cries had stopped. She worried the child had already perished and sent a prayer to the Elements they weren’t too late. The temple was a large structure, with seven-pointed star emblems carved into massive wooden doors that were triple Dianna’s height. The walls stood at odd angles, and she wondered if the building had seven sides. If so, which goddess had they worshipped?
Simeon helped Zier push open the doors. They heaved and groaned until they opened them enough for everyone to squeeze through.
Zier set his pack against a wall on the inside, then waved everyone forward. “Follow me.”
She was surprised to see the temple had no roof. Particles of dust shone like stars as the moonlight lit sections of the inside. The rest was cast in gloom and shadow.
Zier and Simeon pushed at another door, but this one was harder to move. Ryne stood by being useless, so she added her weight. Soon it creaked open, revealing a massive room sunk in the ground, with a platform at the bottom. The giant child was lying on the platform. Several rows of worn benches wound their way up the bowl. No doubt this temple had once been a great gathering place.
As they descended the crumbling stairs into the pit, she felt like a speck of gruel falling into a bowl. The babe—a girl, judging by her long, pretty lashes and tattered gown—sucked her fist and stared wide-eyed at them, her sweet face wet and splotchy from crying. Her legs were tied together at the ankles. Her hands must have been bound at one point, but a frayed rope hanging from her wrist indicated she’d broken free.
“There, there, wee mite.” Zier waddled up to the child, patting her chubby leg and speaking in soothing tones. “No need to cry.”
“Ha!” Ryne laughed, his hand on his sword while he walked a wide circle around her. “Wee mite!”
His dog barked agreement, ears flat against his skull while he skirted the child, sniffing the air, and then quickly backing up before sniffing again.
Zier turned to Ryne with a scowl. “She is wee for a giant.”
Simeon said nothing, his usual smile replaced by a heavy frown.
The babe let out a pitiful whine as she kicked the air. Her flesh was covered in tiny bumps, no doubt from the frigid air. Had the giants truly left one of their own to starve and freeze to death?
Dianna didn’t like the hollow shadows around her eyes and cheeks. “She looks malnourished.”
“Aye, she is.” Zier pulled a cloth out of his pocket, dabbing his wet eyes. “They don’t usually sacrifice babes so small.”
“Why do giants sacrifice their young at all?” Simeon asked, pulling the stone out of his pocket and placing it under the child’s back.
The baby smiled at him, then cooed.
Dianna watched in relief as the stone pulsed red. Hopefully, it would bring her comfort.
“The giants sacrifice their young to appease Madhea in hopes for a mild winter.” Zier turned to the babe. “They must have sacrificed early because of the unexpected drop in temperature.”
“How barbaric,” Dianna breathed, feeling as if pixies were tearing her heart to shreds every time the child whimpered.
“We need to find her food,” Simeon said.
“Well, why don’t we just go find a giant teet of mother’s milk?” Ryne scoffed, waving his sword above his head. “I’m sure there’s one nearby.”
“Listen, you stupid blue broot.” Zier slapped an open palm with the head of his hatchet, his bulbous nose turning bright crimson. “If ye can’t be helpful, then shut yer blabbering mouth before I shut it for you.”
Ryne had the decency to shut up, though his actions spoke for him when he stomped back up the steps and plopped down on a stone bench.
“How old do you think she is?” Dianna asked.
Zier thoughtfully rubbed his beard. “I’d say no more than eight months. She most likely can’t walk yet.” He turned to Simeon. “A hand up, lad.”
Simeon gave Zier a boost to the platform. Zier walked down the length of her torso, winking at the baby. “Hold still, little mite. Uncle Zier will free you.”
As if she could understand him, she became as motionless as stone while he waddled back down her body and cut the cords that bound her legs. No sooner had Zier slid down her leg than she rolled over on her tummy and scooted to her knees, smiling down at them, revealing a mouthful of gums except for two upper and two lower teeth. Dianna was struck by her bright blue eyes an
d how much her facial features resembled a human baby’s. Her nose wasn’t as wide or flat as most giants.
Simeon snatched the stone and backed up, staring at the child, who giggled and reached for him. He stumbled backward, nearly tumbling off the platform. “Easy, child,” he cried.
The baby saw Ryne, whose blue skin shone like a beacon in a sliver of moonlight. She immediately lost interest in Simeon, cooing and reaching toward Ryne.
“Look out!” Ryne jumped from his bench as she tumbled down the platform and started crawling toward him.
The child giggled, crawling faster. Tar barked wildly, and Ryne gripped the hilt of his sword, racing backward up the steps.
“Have a care,” Zier hollered. “She’s just a babe.”
“A baby who’s as big as a gnull.” He glared at the child after climbing out of reach. “She’s looking at me like I’m her teething ring.”
The child sat on her haunches, eagerly sucking her fist.
Simeon jumped down from the platform, walking a wide circle around the giant before coming to Dianna’s side. “Do you think she’s hungry?”
“Yes.” Dianna recognized the look of hunger in the babe’s eyes, especially the way she gnawed her hand. She remembered her brother acting this way when he was ready to nurse. “And we have nothing to feed her.”
Zier spun a slow circle around the platform. “The giants usually leave a food sacrifice as well.” He pointed his hatchet at a tall statue behind him. “Palma fruits!”
A stone shelf against the back wall was held up by the statue of a woman. Though her arms had fallen off, and one leg was beginning to crumble, she recognized the face.
My mother, Sindri echoed. The dwarves worshipped her.
“I thought she looked like you,” she answered.
We were all created in her likeness. There was no mistaking the longing in Sindri’s voice. How I wish she could hold me once more.
If she had Kyan on her side, Dianna knew she could defeat Madhea. “I wish she was here, too,” she whispered. She looked at Zier. “Shall we give the babe some fruit?”
“Worth a try.” He called to the child, pointing to the shelf.
