Scorn of the Sky Goddess

by Tara West

  “Why do you think winter has retreated?” Simeon asked as they trekked past the mighty lyme tree in the center of town. The tree’s branches had wilted and sagged like a kneeling giant, bent over with fists planted on the ground.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “My best guess is that Madhea has shown mercy or something has weakened her power.”

  “The ice witch is not capable of mercy,” Ryne scoffed.

  “No.” Her heart plummeted, for Ryne was right. Her mother cared for no one but herself. But from what Markus had told her of the Elementals, they were kind and compassionate. What if her vision of them trapped in a heptacircle had been nothing more than a nightmare? What if they were finally able to rein in Madhea’s power? Dianna prayed it was true and the Elementals were safe and well.

  “Then let us hope she was dealt a blow,” Ryne said, kicking a muddy doll out of his way. A trail of discarded pots and other household goods littered the path out of the town center. Tar sniffed them all, coming away with a crusty end of bread. She feared the discarded debris had become too burdensome for the fleeing people to carry, and that they’d left without enough provisions.

  “Who would be powerful enough to take on the Sky Goddess?” Simeon asked.

  She was about to mention the Elementals when Ryne answered, “Tan’yi’na.”

  She stopped as if she’d run into an invisible wall of ice. “Heavenly Elements, I hope not!” Mayhap that was why the dragons didn’t answer when she called to them. They’d decided to take on Madhea themselves. She wouldn’t put it past Tan’yi’na after carrying a grudge against the ice witch for over a thousand years. She hoped it wasn’t true, for the dragons’ silence could only mean they’d perished in the battle.

  MADHEA TUMBLED INTO her chamber, clutching her stomach and frantically knocking potions off the dresser. They crashed on the hard floor in plumes of smoke until she found the one she needed, made from salamin oil and various medicinal herbs.

  She uncorked the bottle with her teeth, grimacing while swallowing the bitter contents of the vial. She threw it to the floor and stumbled to her bed, lying down on the soft furs and closing her eyes, pressing a hand on the wound. She channeled healing magic into her fingers, though not enough poured out to stop the flow of blood. She was weakening, and so was her magic. She feared the herbs would do little to help, which meant she had only one other option if she wished to avoid certain death.

  She called on the dark magic within her soul, the same poisonous seeds that had once caused her beauty to fade. It wrapped around her with sharp barbs, stitching her up until naught was left but a wicked black mark that circled her waist like a belt of thorns, a permanent and ugly reminder of her painful brush with death.

  The ordeal exhausted her last bit of energy. As her heavy eyelids fell shut, she prayed to the Elements that the scar wouldn’t spread to her beautiful face.

  DIANNA HAD HOPED THEY could stop by her family’s hut for one night, but she’d no time to reminisce. Instead, they trekked past the town, reaching Kicelin by nightfall. If Adolan was eerily barren, Kicelin was a graveyard beneath the shadow of the mountain’s peak that loomed above it. Though some of the town had begun to thaw, frost still covered rows of brick huts with thatched roofs. They chose a lone hut on the edge of town and used a stone to melt the layer of ice coating the door. Inside was not much better. Tables and beds had splintered from the chill, but they hadn’t found any petrified bodies.

  There was a large pot of stew on the hearth, frozen in a block of ice. Dianna set to work melting it in hopes they’d have a nourishing meal for once, rather than rationed sticks of dried meats.

  Simeon and Ryne tidied up the cottage, repairing what they could. The moon was rising by the time they gathered around the hearth to eat. They sat on their furs close to the fire, not trusting the wobbly dining chairs and table.

  She moaned after her first bite. It was just as she had hoped, venison, cabbage, roots, and herbs preserved by the freeze, tasting freshly made when heated. ’Twas the most delicious meal she had ever eaten. Simeon and Ryne obviously agreed, because they wordlessly devoured bowl after bowl until the entire pot had been drained. Tar feasted on the discarded deer bones that had been left beside the fire.

  Simeon dragged a hand across his full lips, letting out a satisfactory belch as he leaned back on his elbows. “That was delicious.”

  Ryne tossed his empty bowl on the ground with a clank. “It was tolerable at best.”

  “Tolerable?” Simeon eyed Ryne. “You devoured four bowls.”

  “I was famished after subsisting on nothing but dried meats and berries.” Ryne picked a piece of meat out of his teeth. “I would’ve eaten a bowl of troll dung if it was edible.”

  “Honestly, Ryne.” She was exasperated by the ice dweller’s consistently negative outlook. “How did Alec put up with you without throwing you overboard?”

  “Here, here.” Simeon chuckled.

  Even Ryne’s dog appeared to agree. His tail heartily slapped the wooden floor, and he barked three times at Ryne before returning to his bones.

  The blue man eyed Simeon through slits. “Alec and I got on fine. He knew when to shut up.”

  Simeon pointed an accusatory finger at Ryne. “Zier told me you broke Alec’s nose.”

  She shot upright. “What? You broke my brother’s nose?” Why was this the first she was hearing of it?

  Ryne shrugged. “We had a disagreement.”

  She was so angry, magic crackled in her palms. Alec had been abused enough in his lifetime. He didn’t need bullying from brooding blue beasts. “So you broke his nose?”

  “I’ve apologized.” Ryne picked more grime from his teeth, heedless of her simmering beside him like Eris’s volcano, ready to explode.

  Simeon smugly smiled. “You said you were sorry for breaking his nose and getting him caught in Eris’s net?”

  Ryne cocked a brow. “What else has Zier told you?”

  “You were the reason he was captured,” Simeon said without pause.

  Ryne dismissed Simeon with a laugh. “There was a misunderstanding.”

  “In the short time I’ve known you, I can easily see it was not just a misunderstanding. You always seem to find a reason to be in a foul mood,” Dianna said.

  Ryne jerked back as if he’d been slapped. “I carry the weight of my people’s fate on my shoulders, so forgive me for sometimes being in a mood.”

  A bitter laugh escaped her throat. “You think I don’t carry a heavy burden? I’m tasked with the responsibility of killing my mother, lest the whole world perish. I don’t use that as an excuse to be unpleasant to everyone.”

  Ryne looked away, staring blankly into the fire. “We each handle stress differently.”

  Simeon leaned against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Differently, as in you behaving like a troll with an infested boil on your bum.”

  Color flushed Ryne’s cheeks. “Is it any wonder I’m in a mood, with you goading me all the time?”

  Simeon tucked his chin into his chest, the merriment in his eyes belying his casual pose. “I can’t help it you’re an easy target.”

  “We’re all easy targets when you have the magical ability to persuade, especially her.” Ryne indicated Dianna with a sneer. “You have her fawning over you like starving kraehn set on a pile of rotten entrails.”

  She didn’t fawn over Simeon, did she?

  Need I remind you of his muscular chest? Neriphene teased.

  Simeon uncrossed his legs. “You’d compare Dianna to some carnivorous ice-dwelling fish?”

  An uncomfortable flush crept into her cheeks when Ryne looked her over with a sneer. “If the boot fits.”

  Before she could return the insult, Simeon launched himself at Ryne like a troll pouncing on its hapless prey.

  “Stop it! Not here!” she scolded as they rolled around on the floor, pummeling each other’s faces. “Are you trying to bring an avalanche down on our heads? You can pound each othe
r to bits after we escape Ice Mountain.”

  They ignored her, rolling from one side of the hut to the other, fists and elbows flying. Bowls fell from the shelves, shattering on the floor when they banged into a cabinet.

  Tar danced around them, barking for them to stop.

  She didn’t know what to do, for she could trigger an avalanche if she flattened them with magic. They’d beat each other senseless before they ascended Ice Mountain.

  She jumped at the sound of a loud knock. “Someone’s here!”

  Tar growled at the door, hackles rising.

  Simeon and Ryne stopped pummeling each other long enough to gape at the only door to the hut. Simeon bolted for his spear.

  Ryne slid his sword from its sheath. “Who goes there?”

  “Dafuar,” a feeble voice answered.

  “Dafuar!” She raced to the door, loosened the bolt, and threw it open, surprised to see the old man. Icicles coated his long beard in a frosty curtain. His bony knees poked through his thin fur robe. How had he survived such harsh weather?

  Without waiting for an invitation, Dafuar stepped across the threshold.

  She shut the door behind him, still amazed to see the prophet.

  He folded his arms, the creases around his eyes deepening. “I’ve come to warn you.”

  Her legs gave way, and she sank into a wobbly chair. “Of what?”

  Her foster mother once said Dafuar had been the village prophet for centuries, mayhap longer. It wasn’t until Dianna visited Feira in the Shifting Sands that she learned he was Kyan’s son. He and his twin had been the original keepers of the stones until the Elements stole them, hiding them in the recesses of the earth. After that, Odu and Dafuar wandered the earth for hundreds of years, searching for something they’d lost but not remembering what. They were wise but unwise, old and frail, yet cursed with longevity. Their life was made all the worse after Madhea turned their mother and sisters to stone.

  I do not know whose curse is worse, Aletha said. Ours or our brothers’.

  ’Tis true, agreed Neriphene. Each time I see my brothers, they look worse than the time before, yet they do not die, cursed as they are to live an eternity in broken bodies.

  Dianna thought to ask how stones could see at all, but there were more pressing matters, namely hearing Dafuar’s warning.

  His bones creaked as he sat in an unsteady chair beside her, the pack strapped to his back pushing him forward at an odd angle. While Tar sniffed his hand and licked his fingertips, Dafuar’s expression went blank. “Of what were we speaking?”

  She placed a hand on his shriveled wrist. “You came to warn us of something.”

  “Oh, yes.” He flashed a toothless grin, scratching Tar behind the ears. “I don’t remember, but the warning was dire indeed.”

  Ryne eyed the prophet with suspicion. “You are Odu’s brother, aren’t you?”

  “Odu?” He cupped Tar’s chin, then rubbed the dog’s furry neck. “Yes, that name sounds familiar.” He tapped the table beside him. “I have a brother named Odu, you know?”

  “Curse the Elements,” Ryne spat. “That’s what I said.” He thumbed at Dafuar with a laugh. “This old fool is even more forgetful than his brother.”

  Tar shot Ryne a pleading look before laying his head in Dafuar’s lap, turning sad eyes up at the old man.

  Dianna was amused by how quickly the dog became attached to the prophet, though not surprised. He’d always had a way with animals.

  “He is the son of the benevolent goddess, Kyan.” She spoke through clenched teeth, hoping Dafuar was either too old or too slow to comprehend Ryne’s insult. “Show some respect, Ryne.”

  Simeon dropped his spear and fell to his knees. “I was an idiot for not recognizing your name, Uncle. It is an honor to meet you.”

  Dafuar arched a brow, scratching his bushy beard. “You’re my nephew?”

  Simeon eagerly nodded. “I’m the grandson of Odu, many times removed.”

  “Odu?” The old man ran a hand over his patchy scalp. “That name sounds familiar.”

  “Siren’s teeth!” Ryne threw up his hands. “Are we doomed to repeat the same conversation a hundred times?”

  “Shut up, Ryne!” she snapped.

  “Ah, snowbear!” Dafuar held up a finger, a broad, toothless smile splitting his face in two. “That was my warning. I spotted it circling the village.”

  “Thanks for the warning, old man.” Ryne said.

  Tar growled at the door once more, his back arched as if he planned on springing into action.

  Ryne frowned at his dog. “What is it, boy?”

  The wall to the hut caved in so fast, Dianna had scarcely any time to jump out of the way. Bricks scattered all over the wooden floor in a plume of dust. The snowbear’s massive head filled the room, malice and hunger shining in his hollow eyes, drool dripping off his fangs and pooling on the floor.

  Tar danced around the bear, jumping out of reach when the monster tried to catch him in its mighty maw. Dafuar stepped in front of the bear, facing Dianna as if a voracious monster wasn’t behind him. “What seems to be the commotion?” the old man asked in a daze.

  She yelped, “Dafuar, get back!”

  The prophet made it too easy for the predator, whose massive jowls clamped down on his backpack. Before she could stop him, the beast jerked the old man backward. Dafuar actually had the common sense to scream as the bear took off at a run, dragging the prophet with him.

  She grabbed her bow and arrows and led the chase, Simeon following with his spear, and Ryne and Tar not far behind. A blustery wind howled, pelting them with freezing chunks of ice and snow, making it hard to see, let alone run. They trudged across a frozen lake, guided only by the fading moonlight and the sound of Dafuar’s pitiful cries.

  Simeon hurled his spear, striking the beast’s hindquarters. The bear let out an enraged cry, but he did not stop or release Dafuar. He did slow enough that their party was able to bridge the distance between them and see the bear more clearly. The pool of blood marring his white fur made it easier to spot him in the wintery haze.

  She thought herself mad for chasing after an angry beast nearly as big as a broot. Even on all fours, he was several heads taller than her. She nocked an arrow as she advanced, pulled back her bow, and fired, hitting the bear in the other leg. The monster grunted, missed a step, then kept on running.

  Just as they’d crossed the lake and had almost reached a line of pine trees, the bear surprised them by coming to a sudden halt. He dropped Dafuar into a snowdrift and spun around, baring large fangs.

  Ryne waved his sword at the beast, as if he had any chance of defeating a monster who could devour him in one swallow. Tar ran circles around the bear, distracting him. Simeon crept toward the beast’s rear, reaching for his spear. Dianna notched another arrow, but before she could fire, the bear charged her. She screamed, tripping as she scrambled away. The giant reared up on his two back legs, hovering over her like a dragon ready to devour its prey.

  Stop him! Neriphene hollered.

  “And bring an avalanche upon us all?” The shadow of Ice Mountain loomed above them. It was too great a risk.

  Simeon grabbed the spear, crying out as he tried to yank it from the beast. The bear spun around with a roar so powerful, it rattled the marrow of her bones, and she feared an avalanche was imminent. Simeon held tight to the spear, even as the bear tried to swat him away. This was enough of a distraction for her to fire an arrow. Though she aimed for the beast’s lungs, fear shook her limbs so hard, it missed its mark and lodged in its shoulder.

  Tar nipped its paws when it bore down on Dianna. Ryne was able to cut open a leg with his sword, then ducked, jumping out of reach when the bear swiped at him. The monster advanced on Ryne, despite Simeon and Dianna yelling and chasing after it. She struck it again in the hind leg with another arrow, but the beast didn’t flinch as it continued toward Ryne.

  The ice dweller stumbled and fell, raising his sword. Out of the corner of
her eye, Dianna spied a shadowy figure in the distance. She thought perhaps Dafuar had risen from the snowbank, but this person moved with alacrity while raising a bow. After the sound of six successive thwacks, the bear fell with a howl, its fanged jowls resting within a breath of Ryne’s feet, two long arrows protruding from each eye.

  She knew of only one person who could shoot an animal with such precision, yet as the figure came into view, she was shocked to see a waif of a girl holding a bow.

  “Ryne, is that you?” the girl cried, falling on him and clutching his face.

  “Ura!” He stumbled to his knees, gripping the girl’s shoulders. “Sister, what in Elements’ name are you doing here?”

  “They’ve outed me.” Ura trembled in his arms. “It’s taken me days to get down the mountain.”

  “They outed you!” His features hardened. “Those bastards!”

  “Oh, Ryne,” she breathed. “You must save Markus and Father. We may already be too late.” She fell against him, head lolling to one side.

  He scooped his sister into his arms, his expression grim. “We’ve got to get her to shelter.”

  Dianna nodded, unable to speak over the knot of panic that lodged in her throat. What did she mean, they may be too late to save Markus? What had happened to her brother?

  A deafening crack punctured the air, its echo reverberating off the mountain.

  Her heart pounded against her ribs. “Avalanche! Run!”

  She heard the rumble next, like a herd of a hundred dragons racing down the mountain. It looked like the entire bottom face of the mountain was sliding toward them.

  “Great goddess!” she cried. “It will bury us!”

  Her legs felt like they were weighted with bags of sand as she tried to plow through the dense snow. At this rate, she’d never outrun the avalanche. Ryne sprinted ahead of her, his sister bouncing over his shoulder, his dog at his heels. Dianna checked for Simeon, and then all of time seemed to stand still, her thudding heart coming to a sudden stop as she was overcome by a bone-crushing fear. He had stayed behind, grunting and swearing while trying to pull Dafuar out of the snowdrift as the white wall of destruction barreled toward him.