by Tara West
As soon as the babe spotted the fruit, her eyes lit up, and she eagerly followed Zier to the offering. Dianna worried, because a bushel of palma pods weighed as much as three men. She breathed a sigh of relief when the child snatched the entire bushel off the shelf with ease and bit into the pod, swallowing leaves and all.
Dianna turned to Zier with a smile. “She likes them.”
“Good,” Ryne said. “Then you can volunteer to change her nappy later.”
A sudden gust of wind ruffled Dianna’s hair. Beware, demons are coming, a sibilant voice whispered in her ear.
Dianna spun around, looking for the source of the voice, realization sinking in her gut like a brick that the Elements had issued her a warning.
“Listen.” Simeon held a hand to his ear. “Do you hear that?”
Dianna swallowed hard. She heard a faint buzzing. Could it be the demons the Elements had spoken of? “What is it?”
Simeon narrowed his eyes at the starry night sky. “It sounds like the flapping of birds’ wings.”
“They are not birds.” Zier said. “‘Tis what I feared. Arm yourselves. The gargoyles are coming!”
Dianna’s hand flew to her throat. “Gargoyles!”
“Aye.” Zier stood in front of the child, legs braced and holding his weapon at the ready. “They heard the babe’s cries, too.”
“Let us flee before they get here.” Ryne raced toward them, wildly waving his arms for them to follow him back up the steps.
She cocked a hand on her hip. “And do what with the baby?”
“Leave her.” His face turned from pale blue to deep crimson. “It’s the baby they’re after.”
Zier shook his hatchet at Ryne. “You cowardly troll!”
“We’re not on this mission to save giant babies.” Ryne matched Zier’s dark look with one of his own. “If we perish, the world perishes, or have you forgotten?”
Tar whined, anxiously looking from his master to Dianna.
“Go if you must.” She waved him off. “I’m not leaving the baby.” She turned her back on him. Zier was right. Ryne was a troll. Why had her brothers befriended such a man?
“I’m staying, too.”
“Thank you,” Dianna breathed, smiling up at Simeon as he stood beside her, spear in hand.
Simeon answered with a subtle nod before handing her his stone. “Just do what you did with the pixies,” he said.
“Right.” She was hardly aware of her actions as she pocketed the stone. “How big are gargoyles?” she asked Zier.
The dwarf held his arms wide. “The length of man with a wingspan to match.”
She swallowed hard as the contents of her meager supper raced from her gut, threatening at the back of her throat. “I-I don’t think I can....”
Yes you can, Dianna. We will help you, Sindri said.
Put us in your scarf and put the decoys in your pack. They are clever beasts, Neriphene warned.
She shrugged off her pack, inserted the stones in the scarf’s pockets, then hurriedly wrapped it around her neck. She took the decoys out of her pack, slipping those inside a small satchel on her hip.
Fear pumped like raging torrents through her veins as the walls shook and crumbled from the rattle of the approaching monsters.
Dianna, you must have faith in yourself, Aletha said in a tone as soothing as warm broth.
“Thank you, Aletha.” Dianna patted her neck. “I’ll try.”
Your lack of confidence could be your undoing, Neriphene chided.
“That’s not helpful,” she whispered.
The babe turned her chubby chin to the sky as a black cloud blotted out the moon and stars. She pointed and then began to wail, crawling behind Zier.
Remember, you have flattened Tan’yi’na before, Sindri said. You have defeated a goddess. You can take on a few hundred gargoyles.
Dianna gasped. “A few hundred?”
Or a few thousand, Neriphene answered.
“Oh, heavenly Elements!” What little moisture she had in her mouth dried up.
Never mind her. Just have faith, Aletha said.
Simeon swore as the black cloud descended.
Ryne raced to her other side. “You stupid stubborn slogs will be the death of us all!”
His dog bared his fangs, the fur on his back standing on end.
“You might want to get down!” Dianna screamed above the din of flapping wings as hundreds of red-eyed demons swarmed the temple. Magic pulsed through her veins as her spirit hovered between this world and the next, keeping one thread tethered to her body. “Be gone, demons!” she screamed as bolts shot out of her fingers.
The sky lit up like a cloudless summer day, and the monsters shrieked, spiraling through the air like spinning discs. Zier had fallen against the babe’s leg, Simeon and Ryne had landed on their arses, and Tar was sprawled on his back. How Dianna was still standing was a wonder indeed, for her legs and arms wobbled like they were made of mud. Finally, her legs gave way and she fell to her knees, wiping her brow. The hot and heavy air was as thick as soup. Ryne and Simeon panted beside her. The eerie silence was splintered with ominous hissing and howls. She didn’t know why she’d expected the gargoyles to splatter like the pixies, but they’d all but disappeared behind the temple walls.
Simeon stood, holding a hand down to her.
She latched on and was pulled to her feet, still unsteady on shaky legs. “I’m afraid I didn’t kill them,” she whispered.
He flashed a sideways smile. “But you were amazing.”
“Amazing and victorious are two different things,” Ryne grumbled as he raised his sword. “Zier,” he called to the dwarf. “Do you see anything?”
Zier pulled himself up by clinging to the giant’s grubby toe. “Nay, not a thing, but I hear them.”
She heard them, too—a faint whisper at first, followed by rabid hissing and then menacing howls.
Ryne held up a silencing hand. “I think they’re communicating.”
Simeon laughed, a nervous sound that ended with a crack. “Hopefully they’re deciding to retreat.”
“Don’t count on it.” Ryne grimaced.
Tar turned to face the back wall.
An ear-piercing howl set Dianna’s teeth on edge. She watched with a mixture of awe and terror as the walls around them began to crumble. Then a sea of red eyes, spindly legs, and dripping fangs crawled over the debris like giant winged spiders.
“Do something, Dianna!” Ryne screamed.
“Stop!” Dianna commanded. She’d had no time to travel to that space between two worlds, so the magic that flowed through her was less potent.
A strong wind blew out of her fingertips, sending the creatures tumbling back. They shrieked as they flipped spiky heads over long, barbed tails.
Simeon pointed his spear at something beyond her shoulder. “The other side, Dianna!”
She spun and sent those creatures away, too, though the magic that flowed out of her fingers was even less powerful than before.
“Sindri, help,” she cried.
You’re not focused, Sindri admonished. You’re letting fear rule you.
“That’s because I’m scared!” she cried.
A creature careened straight for her with an ear-splitting howl. Simeon struck the beast with his spear, and it faltered midair, tumbling at Dianna’s feet. The thing let out a ghoulish yowl and shuddered as Simeon yanked his spear from its chest.
A shiver took hold of her, rattling her from the inside out as she gazed at the leathery, black creature with razor-sharp claws and fangs as long as daggers, reminding her of a human-sized blood-sucking bat.
Zier tried to hush the baby as she bawled, eyes wide with terror.
The hissing began anew. Elements save them all, for Dianna knew the monsters were formulating another attack.
She tried to send her spirit to that place between two worlds, but fear anchored her to her body like an invisible chain, weighing down her soul.
“Sindri,” she cri
ed. “What’s happening?”
You are doing this to yourself, Sindri scolded. Let go of your fear.
“I can’t!” She backed away from the creature Simeon had stabbed as it twitched at her feet. A spear to the chest, and it was still not dead! Were these beasts immortal?
Do it, Neriphene commanded, or you will all perish, and we stones will be lost to those creatures!
You are the daughter of a goddess! Sindri shrieked. Act like one!
A deep rumble shook the ground so hard, she fell into Simeon’s arms. Tar spun in circles, barking wildly at something in the sky. Borg stomped up and down as if trying to put out a fire, swinging a massive tree trunk like a club, splattering those gargoyles who dared take to the air. He flung off the vicious creatures when they climbed up his body and bit into his flesh.
“Borg save fwiends!” he cried, eyes wide with panic. “Fwiends run!”
Her heart hit her ribcage with a dull thud. After the way they’d treated him, poor Borg was willing to sacrifice his life for them.
“Dianna!” Zier hollered. “Don’t let him perish.”
“I won’t.” She nodded, then shut her eyes, focusing on that space between worlds. The magic pulsed through her veins like rivers flowing from a bubbling volcano. Energy pooled in her palms, but she didn’t strike. She let it flow until her hands felt weighted with bags of sand. Then she lifted her aching arms and flung her magic at the monsters, who had swarmed Borg like a nest of voracious pixies to a hapless mortal.
The force flew from her hands like giant thunderbolts, sending her careening through the air and smack into the baby’s belly. She bounced off the child, landing on her side with a painful crack.
Grab hold of me, Aletha urged.
She placed a bloody hand on a stone in her scarf, clutching it though it pained her. She was weak, her eyelids heavy.
Simeon knelt beside her, stroking her back. “Are you okay?”
But she was too tired to answer. Her eyes fell shut as she sent a silent prayer to the Elements that the monsters had been destroyed.
DIANNA AWOKE BESIDE a campfire, nestled in Simeon’s warm embrace. He was smiling.
“It’s over.” He stroked her cheek. “You saved us.”
She breathed a sigh of relief. “The gargoyles?”
Simeon made a face. “Your magic cooked them all.”
“She’s awake.” Ryne’s grumble came from somewhere nearby. “You can let go of her now.”
Simeon looked up with a scowl. “I’ll let go when she’s ready and not a moment before.”
She struggled to sit up, momentarily mesmerized by the light from the hearth fire. They were sheltered inside a building that looked like it had once been a home. Like the temple, this place had no roof, just four stone walls and the starry sky above. Borg sat outside, looking down at them, debris flying from his lips as he loudly crunched his food. Was he eating tree bark? She looked over Simeon’s shoulder at the sound of a loud giggle. Zier was with the baby in a room that may have once been a large family room. He was feeding her strips of what must have been the same tree bark Borg was eating. Giants ate trees?
She wrinkled her nose as a sickeningly sweet yet bitter odor accosted her senses. “What is that smell?”
Simeon frowned. “Borg’s dinner. You may want to cover your nose.”
Borg flashed a blackened grin, as if he’d devoured a mound of coal.
“Fwiend want some?” He reached over the wall and held down a charred gargoyle wing attached to part of a torso and a spindly arm. “They crunchy and good.”
She turned away when the stench of burned gargoyle flesh hit her. Before she could stop herself, she vomited on Simeon’s chest.
She coughed and gagged. “I’m sorry, Simeon.” Wiping her mouth, she looked at him, mortified. His eyes were wide with horror and disgust.
He angled away from her with a grimace. “It’s okay.”
Ryne laughed so hard, he snorted like a wild hog. “You should’ve listened to me and let her go.”
She rolled off Simeon, cringing when he stumbled to his feet and ripped off his tunic.
Well, at least you get another look at his muscular chest, Sindri teased.
It still looks good, even covered in vomit. Neriphene laughed.
“Shut up, you two,” she groaned, clutching her burning gut and struggling to sit up. She fought the urge to vomit again when she noticed Tar sitting by the fire, chewing the end of a gargoyle tail.
“There’s a bathing hut nearby,” Simeon mumbled. “I’ll be back soon.” He grabbed his pack and stomped out of the room.
“I’m sorry, Simeon,” she called to his back, trying to ignore the loud crunching sounds coming from the dog.
“No worries, lass. My ancestors had good wells and running water, and we’ve maintained that bathing hut for our pilgrimages.” Zier raced to her side, holding out a metal flask. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
He pushed the flask under her nose. “It will settle the stomach, lass, and wash the taste of bile out of yer mouth.”
She knew not what act of madness made her take a sip of Zier’s brew. Mayhap it was that she was shamed by the look in Simeon’s eyes and hoped she would indeed wash away the stench of vomit. She stifled a scream when the brew burned going down. Great goddess, it was if she’d swallowed dragon fire! She breathed through a wheeze as the fire raced back up her throat and out her nose.
“Well?” Zier corked the flask, nudging her side. “Is that better?”
She had to struggle for breath before she could answer. “I think you’ve turned me into Tan’yi’na.” Surprisingly, though, she no longer had the urge to vomit. Her head swam and her eyes watered, but the fumes from the fiery brew had drowned out all stink of charred gargoyle. She pointed a shaky finger at Borg. “How can they eat that?”
“Giants have peculiar tastes.” Zier slipped the flask inside his vest pocket. “At least the baby won’t be hungry now.”
“And I’ll never be hungry again.” She rubbed her churning gut.
“Come now, Dianna.” Ryne laughed. “It’s a shame to let good gargoyle go to waste.”
“Shut up, Ryne.” She wished she could shove a fistful of euphoria root down his throat.
The child peered over the wall with a sweet grin (despite the gargoyle meat that stuck to her few teeth like tar). Her eyes looked less hollow, her cheeks rounder. When Borg leaned over and scooped the babe into his arms, she giggled and bounced, waving her chubby fists.
Dianna didn’t understand why the giants would sacrifice such a precious child. The people of Adolan would never give innocents to Madhea, unless, of course, the town suspected them to be witches. In that case, the parents would do everything in their power to hide their children’s magical secrets, as Dianna’s foster parents had.
“Couldn’t the giants use goats or some other food for sacrifice?” Though she disagreed with all sacrifices, the people of Adolan and Kicelin had been using goats for centuries. Each week they also left fresh baked bread, vegetables, and wine on an altar. Never once had they heard a complaint from the goddess. Though it was forbidden to wait for Madhea after leaving the sacrifices, it was rumored the ice witch’s pixies retrieved the food.
“What the giants don’t know,” Zier said, “is that we’ve been stealing their babes for the past fifteen years.”
“And what about the children before that?” she asked, though she didn’t want to know the answer.
The dwarf sat beside her and warmed his hands at the fire. “There was only one that we know of, and only because a cousin found the poor tot’s remains, surrounded by gargoyle droppings, on his pilgrimage to pay homage to our dead kin. After that, King Furbald had the idea that we’d steal them from the altar and raise them as our own.”
A dining table that had probably sat twenty dwarves was pushed up against a wall, along with a beautifully carved cabinet that housed dusty broken dishes and dented metal goblets. “How did this mag
nificent city come to be abandoned?”
He shook his head. “’Tis too sad a tale.”
As if to emphasize Zier’s point, Tar laid down, covering his snout with his paws.
“Please,” she pressed. “I want to know.” Though she regretted the pain in Zier’s glossy eyes, knowing about their ancient city might help her understand the dwarves better, particularly their peculiar king.
“Very well.” He heaved a groan, his shoulders falling inward. “It happened before my time, you see? About eighty years ago. King Furbald was a young prince, and Eris’s army came from the sea to battle Madhea’s army, which came from the mountain. That field we crossed was once the scene of a great battle.”
Simeon reappeared, drying his braid with a towel, his dark, broad chest glistening in the firelight. She looked away before the stones caught her gawking.
Too late. Sindri giggled.
“Who won?” Simeon asked, taking a seat beside Dianna, his knee rubbing against hers.
She shifted away, still feeling self-conscious after vomiting on him.
“Eris’s army,” Zier said, the shadows from the fire lengthening his frown. “But not without great price. You see, Madhea’s army had arrived the night before and demanded entrance into our city. The old king thought it best if the dwarves let them in, as they’d threatened to scale the walls and raze the city if the king did not. They pillaged the city anyway. They drank our whiskey, stole our gold, murdered our men, and used our women.” He smiled up at Borg, who was crawling on all fours, letting the baby ride on his shoulders.
Dianna leaned toward Zier, eager to hear how the story ended, though she felt ten shades of selfish for wanting to put him through the torture of the retelling just to satisfy her curiosity.
“When morning came,” he continued, “Eris’s army attacked. Those dwarves who’d endured the ice witch’s men fared even worse with the sea queen’s army. They butchered Madhea’s men and nearly wiped out our race. Those few who survived gathered their possessions and fled to the shore, rebuilding their lives on the cliffs of Aya-Shay.”
“And that is why your king refuses to allow humans inside now? Because of what those soldiers had done?”
