The Star Of Saree (GODS OF THE FOREVER SEA Book 3)

by A. J. STRICKLER

  As the daylight began to sink away, Julian slowed down. Now they moved quietly along the creek, scanning the trees for any sign of ambush. When they broke from their cover, Julian sniffed the air just as Vladimir had. There was a large expanse of open ground before them and they could see the smoke from the chimneys of a small hamlet far to the south. “I think we are okay. We will wait for the sun to set then we will move on, and hope the night hides our passing.”

  Both of them watched the sun sink below the horizon in silence. When the last of its rays were gone, Julian pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go.”

  She followed him across the sparse pasture toward the hamlet. They hadn’t gone more than a half mile when Julian’s head whipped around. She followed his eyes and saw at least a hundred torches in the distance, maybe more. They both ran as fast as their legs would carry them, but the riders were closing the gap. “Pepca, you must go on. I will try and slow them as best I can.”

  “No, Julian, I can’t go on alone.”

  “You must. We can’t both be captured. Besides, I promised your brother to see to your safety and I won’t break my word. Try and find Vladimir and Grigore. If you can’t, head south to the great wood. Find Constantine and tell him what has happened.”

  “But I don’t know where or how to find the great wood.”

  “There is no time, Pepca. Please, go.”

  She could see Julian sweating with fear and he had begun to shake. “Run, Pepca,” he growled. “And don’t look back.”

  She ran to him and pulled his head down, kissing him on the lips. She could feel his body trembling and his muscles tensing.

  “Hurry, Pep. You must hurry,” he said desperately.

  She turned and fled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Saying a quick prayer for Julian under her breath, Pepca ran. Lungs gasping for air and her heart breaking, Pepca stumbled through the dark landscape, afraid she would never see Julian again. Looking back, she could see that the torches had stopped their advance. The howl of a lone wolf echoed in the night.

  Hesperina pulled loose the golden pin that held her hair in place, letting the mountain’s turbulent winds take control of her dark locks. The mountain air felt good on the goddess’s face, as if brisk gusts could almost blow away the tiresome drudgeries and burdens of rule that filled her troubled mind. In that moment, her majestic beauty could not be denied, nor could her sovereignty. She was a queen.

  Closing her eyes, she let her power sweep out over the length and breadth of Saree. Her psyche strained as it drew in the knowledge and familiarity of events across the world’s expanse. Even her extraordinary intellect could not absorb it all, but what she could retain was enough.

  Sighing heavily, Hesperina fell back against the cool stone of the mountain. The expenditure of such power was taxing, yet the information it wrought was indispensable. With it she could fashion and shape the means to hold her throne. Unlike many of the younger gods, she knew magic and might were not the only weapons. Knowledge combined with guile and manipulation could be just as deadly as any spell or sword. She was a master at the art of deception and sabotage. The right words spoken in the right ears could be just as fatal as a dagger to the heart. With Cem gone, she was the oldest now. The power to search the world for its knowledge was hers alone, and she would need every ounce of wisdom that could be siphoned from Saree if she truly wanted to reign over her ambitious kin.

  Standing silently on a rock ledge whose height and narrowness would frighten even those with the bravest of hearts, Hesperina gently rubbed her temples and waited for the guest she had summoned. The wait was short.

  “I have come as you asked, my queen.” The deep, velvety voice of the Mistress was unmistakable. “You have chosen and odd place to meet, Majesty,” the Mistress of the dead said, looking over the sheer drop.

  A slight grin played on Hesperina’s lips as she watched the wind whip at her niece’s veil, revealing the Mistress’s pale jaw and a hint of her ruby lips. How long she would continue to wear that foolish thing was anyone’s guess. “I thought it would be a nice change. Besides, we can truly be alone here. There is nowhere in the mountain that is truly private and I wanted you to speak freely without having to bolster your rhetoric to impress anyone who may be eavesdropping.”

  The Mistress scoffed. “I always speak my mind, Aunt. However, I am a bit surprised you summoned me after our last…conversation.”

  Hesperina’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Thinking about their last argument brought her anger back to the surface. “The Masarian bloodbath was savage and uncalled for. Gallio was practically destroyed by your so-called Champion and for what, to feed his ego…and yours.”

  “It was a show of power,” the Queen of Hell said, stepping forward.

  “It was a farce. You dressed the man in the armor of the Red Handed, gave him a sword of power, and unleashed that animal on the world to fuel your vanity and defy me. Satron had planned to take Gallio as his city. Now there is nearly nothing left and you have never satisfied my curiosity as to where that damnable red sword came from?”

  The Mistress waved off the accusations. “No one told me Satron had any claim to Gallio, and as I told you before, I have had Crimson Wave for some time. I intended it as a gift for Nikodemos, till he disappointed me in Bandara. But it’s not how I armed Strom that angers you, Hesperina, it’s my approach to reclaiming Saree. I still see no reason we should not descend on the mortals and destroy their Church and make them cower before our strength.”

  “Yes, let us kill their pope and make a martyr of him, destroy their way of life and the god they worship. That is sure to bring us devoted and adoring believers.” Hesperina paused and lowered her voice. The cunning woman was trying to anger her. “Have you learned nothing from the past? The more Octavian tried to bend the elves to our will the more he turned them against us, till he had to nearly wipe their entire race from Saree. Are you so shortsighted that you will destroy half a world to rule the other?”

  “Half is better than nothing, and it doesn’t manner to me if we rule through benevolence or fear, my queen, as long as we rule. You and I know my way will be quicker and after we have brought them to their knees, you can coddle the mortals all you like.”

  Hesperina knew she was wasting her time. The Mistress would never be swayed, but that wasn’t the reason she had summoned the wretched woman anyway.

  “It seems we can’t agree on the matter. However, I am queen and it will be as I say.”

  “Of course, Majesty,” the Mistress conceded, bowing slightly and folding her hands in front of her.

  Her niece gave the outward appearance of calm, though Hesperina’s keen eye could see that the woman’s hands were squeezed together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. She had sparked the Mistress’s famed temper, so now was the time to set the hook. “Have you seen your stepdaughters?”

  The Queen of Hell hesitated only for a moment. “Not since the fall of Gallio. I am sure they are laying low. The little harlots well know you would not look fondly on their interference, or their unwarranted confessions to Strom. I mean really, did the man need to know it was those crossbred doxies who birthed him?”

  The delay in the Mistress’s answer gave her pause. Her niece’s mind was well honed; she needed to tread carefully. “At least on that we agree. As far as I am concerned, there are far too many mortals that possess the blood already, and they’re breeding like rabbits. Perhaps I should give thought to ridding Saree of those women. They have become too interested in the mortals these days. I know you have never been fond of them and have advocated for their destruction on many occasions, perhaps you have been right all along.”

  “It would be a blessing for us all if we rid ourselves of those scheming meddlers. They have set loose a tide of those mixed-blooded curs. A few as our champions are one thing, but they know the nature of the blood. It has always made mortals abnormally fertile. I believe their bodies adapt to our blood’s unique elements, and somehow the females
instinctively become prone to reproduce at a higher rate due to the blood’s violent nature. It’s as if the mortal form instinctively gives birth to as many offspring as it can, knowing only a very few will survive.”

  Hesperina had to applaud the woman’s insight, and it was good to know she was not the only one who had noticed the rise in the number of mortals that carried the blood. “An interesting theory, though whatever the reason, there are too many of the blood and that could become a problem to us in the future. Knowing your stepdaughters, they could very well be planning some kind of uprising”

  The Mistress nodded. “You are right. The witches, as they call themselves now, are more trouble than they are worth. With their father gone, I believed they would have faded into this world’s scenery, yet they have become bolder, even without the Reaper protecting them. Sometimes I wonder if one of us is driving their actions. Either way, they must be watched closely till we find out if that is the case. Whatever is the cause for their mischief, we should end them once and for all.”

  “I will find what hole they crawled into and if they are being handled by one of us, then you can see to their destruction.”

  “It will be a pleasure, my queen.”

  There was a moment of silence, then the Mistress turned her head to the north. “Is that all you wanted?”

  “There was one more thing.” Hesperina knew she should be cautious on what she said next. “Has Syann seemed odd to you as of late?”

  The Mistress’s head tilted to one side. “I have not spoken to her recently. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. It just seems she has been avoiding me of late. Her visits to the mountain have lessened, and last I spoke with her, she seemed troubled, though she hid it well.”

  “Syann is always troubled by something. If it’s not with me, it could be one of her pet mortals. Who knows what has stirred her up? You know how judgmental my daughter can be. I would not worry too much about it.”

  Hesperina sighed and said no more, but she knew the Goddess of Justice was keeping something from her and it bothered her more than it should. “I want you to keep an eye on her, if you would; I don’t want any problems just now. Things are moving along nicely. We just need to have patience. Word is spreading quickly along the Harsh Coast that we have returned and the barbarians in the north are already rebuilding our temples and altars.”

  The Mistress chuckled. “Those savages are slow witted and their beliefs never strayed far. I never doubted the northmen wouldn’t hesitate for a moment to return to the old ways; the church never invaded their lands. It is the rest of the world that troubles me.”

  Hesperina put a hand on her niece’s shoulder. “I know you yearn for the way things were, but if you would just listen to me, we will hold this world in the palm of our hand again. Don’t let hate cloud your judgement. Once we have the love and respect of the mortals, nothing will be able to tear that power away from us.”

  The Queen of Hell shrugged her hand off. “You’re trying to make us something we’re not, Hesperina. Love is not a trait that comes natural to us. I think your approach is folly, but we are stubborn creatures, Majesty. Neither you nor I will yield to the other, so I guess only time will prove which one of us is right.”

  * * *

  The colossal domed temple sat on the southern edge of the city of Blackgate. Its massive basalt stones had been set in place by thousands of slaves driven to endlessly toil for the dark god’s vanity, with only death as reprieve from the whips of their taskmasters. It was the blood of these pitiful souls that truly mortared the temple of the Beast.

  The evil god had attracted the vilest, most savage men to his black banner. Promises of power and riches were whispered in the ears of his strongest supporters, along with assurances that all their desires would be made possible inside his foul city. For centuries it had been so.

  Generation after generation of these wicked men had gathered multitudes of slaves to build their god’s city. In the sweltering heat of Sidia, they had organized a mighty army to defend the Beast’s domain and destroy any who invaded the land of the living god. Their lives were given over in service to the Lord of Evil, and he rewarded them with a tyrannical kingdom built on greed, lust, and murder. For all her brother’s depravity, she could not deny his power, or the iron will that had shaped his kingdom.

  Smoothing back her dark hair so the streak of white stood out prominently and adjusting the black cape that hung from her shoulders, Shiavaka, the Goddess of Magic, entered the shadowy halls of the Beast’s temple. Her dark eyes darted back and forth and quickly found the place distasteful. The architecture was intentionally designed to be unpleasing to the eye. The symmetry was all wrong, almost hideous in some areas. Though massive and ornate, the Beast’s sanctuary was as twisted and unbalanced as the god himself.

  Its irregular lines were most likely due to the way the gigantic structure was formed. Each new king that inherited or murdered his way to the throne of Sidia built on to the temple during their reign, and it seemed all had different ideas as to what design would please the God of Evil. The current ruler, King Aram Shahmoon, was no different. He had spared no expense building on to his god’s home. The king had erected an entirely new domed structure next to the original temple. His father had started the grand undertaking and Aram had finished his work in the first few years of his reign. The kings of Sidia were loyal to their terrible god and tried to appease him any way they could. For unlike most, their god lived among them, and was quick to show his displeasure at the slightest offense.

  Though she detested the bizarre temple, Shiavaka was sure her brother loved it. The opaque walls were covered with carved reliefs depicting horrible acts of cruelty and outrageous exhibitions of foul deeds. The god’s image was represented throughout the temple by murals, sculptures, and bas-reliefs. There was nowhere one could look without seeing his smug face glaring back at them. Shiavaka found the effigies annoying and over-exaggerated.

  She had to admit she was a bit unsure; the goddess had no idea why he had asked her to come to Sidia. They hadn’t spoken for centuries. To her knowledge, none of the pantheon had conversed with her wayward brother since he turned his back on them. Why he wanted to see her now was a mystery, but she would be on her guard. The Beast did nothing without reason.

  The temple was strangely empty. No guards or worshipers walked the huge building’s corridors and she heard no noise from any of the multitude of dark rooms she passed. Not even one of the Beast’s dark priests graced this area of the temple with their presences. Her throat tightened as she realized she would be alone with her older brother. The thought almost made her take flight. Straightening her shoulders, she remembered who she was, Shiavaka the Goddess of Magic, and she was no one to be trifled with.

  A multitude of torches lined the chamber walls, making the details of the heart of her brother’s sanctuary all too clear. Glancing up, the goddess beheld the temple’s lofty dome. The towering ceiling possessed countless symbols and inscriptions, hand-painted with great care. Her breasts rose and slowly fell beneath her thick robe as she took a deep breath and realized what she was observing: the script had been painted in mortal blood.

  Frowning, she shook her head. There was no one on Saree that could understand the ghoulish characters decorating the dome, except her and the other elder gods familiar with the fiendish dark magic from beyond the Forever Sea.

  Lowering her eyes, Shiavaka walked farther out into the enormous room. The mosaic floor gave way to an impenetrable darkness where a great hole had been sunk into the center of the huge room. The stench of rotten flesh emanated from the black, not overwhelming but pungent enough to make the air thick with the smell.

  Six stone bridges over ten feet wide spanned the massive pit, leading to a large platform that held a bloodstained altar carved from a single piece of green jade. The repulsive room’s interior reminded her of a colossal wagon wheel.

  There near the altar, where untold thousands of sacrificia
l victims had met their gruesome ends, stood the Beast. Dressed in what looked like a burial shroud with the cowl tightly pulled down over his eyes, her incorrigible brother waited for her. Unconsciously biting her lip, Shiavaka marched across one of the bridges to face her sibling.

  She had forgotten how tall he was. His eyes weren’t visible beneath the thin cowl, but she could remember them—dark, cold, and cunning. He had grown a thin beard since last they met. His lips parted in a sinister smile, allowing his fangs to protrude and causing her a reluctant shiver.

  “It is a fine thing that the great Goddess of Magic has taken time from her exalted position to speak with a lowly outcast such as myself. I am humbled by your presence.”

  The goddess closed her eyes and took a calming breath. “What do you want?”

  “No reminiscing or even an exchange of pleasantries? I had hoped all these years apart would have sweetened that rotten disposition of yours, little sister. It seems I am to be disappointed in that regard.”

  “Any sisterly feelings I had for you were lost long ago, and my attitude is only poor where you are concerned. Now tell me why you asked me here. I don’t care to stay in this devil’s den any longer than I have to.”

  The god’s grin faded. “I asked you here as a courtesy to let you know I am planning on destroying your pet. The half-breed is playing a dangerous game. I assume you’re aware of his plans?”

  “I am Tavantis’s patron, of course I know what he is up to. He has been at this foolish quest for months now, and don’t think I don’t know it is because you baited him. Tearing the vampirism from his body before it could fully heal his injuries, and insinuating that his mother still lived… What did you think he would do?”

  One side of the Beast’s lips turned up in a half-grin. It was the same roguish look he had as a boy. “I admit it was a cruel jest. You know the history between Tavantis and I. I meant only to hurt him a bit. Now he seeks a way to threaten me. I won’t stand for it, sister.”