I felt the tickle of fangs at my throat. Oh no, you don’t. I thrust my hips up as hard as I could and pulled hard at his pelvis, sending him lurching forward. With Kotikedd's center of gravity shifted, I had a little more room to move. Seizing my advantage while it lasted, I got my legs up in front of me, between my body and the assassin's over-muscled bulk. Ordinarily, this movement would do little more than encourage my assailant to roll off of me, but the Deepseeker had fundamentally changed me. He had brought me back to life and made me stronger, tougher. He had given me a new heart, and that heart was full of rage. When I kicked, Kotikedd didn't just roll aside. Instead, he was launched fully off of me, rising a good two spear casts into the air and tumbling back to crash awkwardly to the ice.
I wasted no time, immediately rolling to my feet and taking stock. The knives were nowhere to be seen. There was, however, a spear lying discarded on the ice not five spear casts from me. Kotikedd was getting to his feet, eyes still swallowed up in madness, his face a mask of hate. I felt something warm and wet trickling down my neck and shuddered. His fangs had drawn blood. A moment more and he might have ripped out my throat. Show or not; this was getting too dangerous. It wasn't wise to fight a berserker, whatever the cause. They didn't react like normal people, didn't pay much attention to pain. The only way to stop a berserker like Kotikedd was to kill or concuss him, and I wasn't going to do that with my fists or claws.
I sprinted for the spear, aware as I did that the mad inquisitor would be right behind me. As I did, I spotted something out of the corner of my eye, and against my better judgment, I looked. Vassa. He was stalking through the crowd, creeping towards Joanna, his face slack and empty of expression. All eyes were on Kotikedd and me, including hers. She wouldn't see him coming. I could see the glint of a knife in his grip as he slipped through the distracted audience. The gathered Erinye, however, weren't the only ones that were distracted. A gargantuan paw closed on the back of my neck, and I was lifted straight up off of the ground. Vulyak dwert. I wouldn’t be getting out of this one unscathed. But that wasn’t important. Joanna was important. Kotikedd’s grip tightened, and even as I reached up to seize his wrist, I felt his dirty black claws begin to pierce my flesh. I met the eyes of my god, those wide, beautiful hot-coal eyes, and screamed, “Joanna! Behind you!”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Joanna
Homecoming for a Queen
Volistad’s warning was cut off as the monstrous brute of a priest shook him violently by the neck. There was a loud snap, and the berserker tossed the ranger aside. He tumbled across the ice, limp. No. I didn’t believe it. I stood and stared at the sprawled, ragged body and tried to process what had just happened. Only the sudden drop in temperature around me reminded me of the danger. Behind you. I spun and came face to face with Vassa, the elder priest. His arms were still outstretched, one hand reaching for me, the other gripping a bone dagger. I raised my arms instinctively in self-defense, and then frowned. He wasn't moving. He stood there, frozen in place, eyes wide. What- Nissikul stepped past him, her face tight with rage. She still wore her witch-plate, but she had let the helm dissipate. Her eyes were the same twin black abysses as usual, but tears had frozen in tracks down her face. Her breath came up in a cloud of fog all around her, and even with my new affinity for the lethal cold of Chalice, I could feel her anger in the precipitous drop in the temperature.
Vassa groaned through clenched, frozen teeth, and his eyes moved frantically back and forth. Holy shit, Nissi. The enraged Stormcaller had encased him completely in ice. She met my eyes as she stepped past the transfixed Elder. “Can’t kill him. Not yet. The duel isn’t over.”
“What?” I pointed out at the field. “Didn’t you hear that monster break his neck? Volistad is dead!”
“No,” Nissikul said firmly. “He isn’t. I can still sense his thoughts. He’s alive. He’s in a lot of pain, but he’s alive.”
I looked out at the field. The gigantic priest had thrown back his blood-smeared head and was in the midst of a teeth-rattling roar. The crowd was, surprisingly, not roaring with him. They seemed more shocked than anything else. We were standing on a precipice. I could feel it. One push and the assembled Erinye would swarm us and tear us apart with the kind of frenzy only a mob could muster. But if we played things right….
"Akkandaka," Thukkar said, struggling through the crowd to reach me. “Joanna,” he corrected, seeing the look on my face. “That thing out there isn’t a priest.”
“I know,” I said, “He’s a berserker. Probably this coward’s hit man.” I gestured to the frozen Vassa, who tried to say something. Only a muffled, wordless moan came out.
“No,” Thukkar hissed impatiently. “He’s not Erinye. That’s one of the Children of the Eater King. I would stake my life on it.” Around us, the gathered Erinye were turning towards me, and I could see dangerous glints in their eyes. I tried to ignore them. I didn’t have much time. In my mind, the images of being torn apart by a howling mob were replaced by memories of trying to kill a minotaur with an old billhook. I could see Lot pushing towards us through the crowd, Elder Perwik at his shoulder. Lot’s face shone with triumph. The Master Ranger’s expression was more restrained, but there was violence in his eyes. He fully expected me to fight. That’s why he wasn’t calling an end to the duel. He wanted to be within a striking distance when he did. Everything was about to fall apart. There was, however, a chance that I could still turn this around, however slim.
I looked back at Thukkar. “Convince your master of this.” I looked over at Nissikul. “Keep Vassa here. I have questions for the high priest whose assassin is a Dark One’s abomination.” I shot one last look over at Perwik, who frowned as Thukkar forced his way into his path. This had better work.
I stepped through the crowd, keeping my movements calm and unhurried. I couldn't rush to Volistad's side, much as I might have wanted to. If I ran, if it looked for a second like I was fleeing, the whole tribe would be on me in seconds. As it was, the gathered Erinye were confused. They stood nervously in their furs, watching their Elders and watching me, not sure of what was happening. Many of them were still staring at the mad priest, who was bounding back and forth around the circle, sometimes walking like a man, and sometimes falling forward onto his arms like a pale, hairless ape. I guessed that the thing inside the priest's body had spiked its host's adrenal glands for a burst of hysterical strength and endurance. Now, it must have been having trouble bringing that rage back down. The spectacle was bizarre to watch, and I figured that the unnerving sight was part of why everything hadn't turned into a mob execution just yet.
I let my senses play out in a circle around me, the machine spirits now connected to my will spiraling out to taste the air. I could hear Volistad’s heartbeat now. It was strong as ever, though his breathing was ragged. He wasn’t moving- chances were he was paralyzed- but he was alive, and he was awake. I winced, but I didn’t have time to try to help him yet. The priest. This all hinged on the priest. “Hey! Eater-Spawn!”
The cavorting Kotikedd stopped, and then swiveled suddenly to face me, mad eyes staring. His face split into a wide, insane grin, and he showed me all of his teeth. Surprisingly, he was still capable of speech. “Ah, ‘Chosen of Ravanur’. I wondered if I would get to kill you today.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Please. You failed to kill my ranger. What makes you think you could kill me?” I sent an invisible cloud of nanites toward him, 'and they surrounded his head, letting themselves get sucked into his lungs with his next breath. Immediately, I was able to sense the target I was looking for. Just like the minotaur, there was something metal curled up in this thing’s chest, right around where the heart should have been. Well, shit. That last one hadn't been a cakewalk to bring down. On the other hand, I hadn't been a god then. The nanites in the berserker's lungs began crawling through into his bloodstream. I wondered if the priest was dead, and there was nothing more than a meat suit, or if the original personality of Kotikedd was in ther
e, a prisoner in his mind.
The inquisitor glanced over at Volistad’s crumpled body. He shrugged. “Dead enough.”
"Well then," I said, showing all my teeth in an Erinye grin. "Maybe today is your lucky day. Come and get me." My nanites found the metal creature curled up in the berserker's chest. A commotion had started somewhere behind me, but I couldn't waste a second looking to see what it was. This all hinged on the next couple of seconds. I scanned the Eater-spawn and quickly found what I was looking for. This creature was a machine. Machines needed power. This one, I reasoned, would run off of the bioelectric energy of its host's body, saving whatever internal power it stored to escape if its vessel died. That meant that it was uniquely vulnerable, in a way with which I had become intimately familiar. Like every other non-Stormcaller out here, this man was wearing one of the Deepseeker's "blessings". Though that old man had been conspicuously absent during this whole farce, his works were not. I had recharged one of those devices with bioelectric energy, and they could store quite the charge despite their unassuming appearances. This one was in the form of a simple metal bracer, worn about the priest's right forearm. I reached out for it with a machine spirit, found its energy storage, and broke it. The energy trapped within was released, all at once.
Kotikedd took one step towards me and froze, his narrow eyes flying open wide. His muscles spasmed, all at once, and his teeth slammed together. Something pink and bloody fell to the ice at his feet. He had bitten through his tongue. He voided his bowels and fell, his whole body still seizing even as he writhed in his own filth. The commotion turned to shouts, and I could hear running feet coming up from behind me. "Come on!” I seethed under my breath. “Show yourself!”
The priest’s chest exploded out in a gout of blood, and his struggles immediately ceased. From the shattered remains of his ribcage something metallic and slick with gore scrambled. It crawled up out of the corpse on too many legs, letting out a tinny, horrible wail. It began to scramble towards me, though the shock had clearly wounded it badly. It weaved back and forth erratically, and sparks dribbled from between its segmented metal plates. I raised one hand high toward the cloudy sky, calling the great storm spirits I knew waited far above. Their answer was immediate. A great bolt of lightning dropped from the heavens and smote the Eater’s Spawn, striking everyone around me blind with the intensity of the strike. Steam billowed up around me in a pillar, and I moved to Volistad’s side.
His neck was bent at an unnatural angle, and his blue-on-brown eyes stared up at me with helpless rage and pain. He tried to speak, but I shook my head to silence him. I took one of his limp hands in mine, knowing he probably couldn’t feel it. “I’m sorry,” I said, holding back the tears. In a minute, the steam would clear, and I would need to be a god again. Gods did not cry. “I’m sorry I sent you into that. If I had known-”
Volistad moaned something, spit bloody foam, and managed to say, “No.” He was right, of course. This had been necessary. It had been the plan. I had had my part of it, but so had he. But that didn’t make me feel any less guilty. What kind of god was I if I couldn’t even save my own champion?
The commotion had stopped. Everything was silent as if the whole of this frozen, shitty world was holding its breath. I let go of Volistad's hand. I would do everything I could to save him. But I had to keep us from being torn to shreds by a mob first. I stood, the steam fading around me like a ragged shroud.
The crowd was silent and still, every one of them staring, rapt at attention at whatever was happening behind me. I turned and stopped. Vassa was still frozen where he stood, Nissikul standing beside him with a lazy hand on his petrified shoulder. Beside him, Elder Lot lay on his face, one of his arms twisted painfully behind him in Elder Perwik's iron grip. The Master of the Rangers held a dagger point to the base of the Master Stormcaller's skull and was ready to bury it in the old Erinye's brain. Beside the pair of grappling Elders, there stood a ragged old man with wide, mad eyes, a weapon dangling lazily from his knobbly hands that was unmistakably some kind of gun, though not any gun I had ever seen. Beside me, Volistad began to laugh weakly. Through his pained chuckles I heard him grunt out, “utrezbekan Deepseeker.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Joanna
Parley
I watched the door to the little hut with unflagging intensity, trying not to show my anxiety on my face. Never let them see you bleed. I didn't know where I had heard that, but it was true. I couldn't show weakness, not for a single moment. I wasn't just a leader here; I was a god. Gods were calm and self-assured. Gods always had a plan. I sure as shit didn't feel calm or self-assured right now. The crazy old tech shaman ducked out of the hut a moment later, a satisfied half-smile in his eyes, contrasted sharply by the otherwise ferocious expression twisting the rest of his race. He looked around at all of us, gathered at the fire pit outside his hut, poking at the embers of a mushroom stalk blaze. "The young ranger will recover." Everyone gathered breathed a collective sigh of relief.
We had all been pretending to eat the food that the severely cowed priesthood had insisted on serving us. No one was hungry, though. In the space of just a half of an hour, the entire Erinye government had been turned on its head. The High Priest, Vassa, was locked in a cell beneath the stone of the mountain, awaiting judgment from an Elder Council that didn't exist anymore. Lot was being watched very closely by an order of very angry Stormcallers, who had been pulled back from the brink of rebellion by an impassioned Nissikul. They would be fine, but they needed something to vent their spleen upon. I didn’t need a few dozen stir-crazy, angry mages rampaging around the village. I would need to find them something to do. No one seemed to know what to make of the Deepseeker, who had been accused by the others of being corrupted by the Dark Ones around the same time that my camp had been attacked and destroyed. With Vassa clearly corrupted and Lot suspected of the same, everyone seemed ready to kill the strange old shaman too, just to be safe. Only Elder Perwik was still in power, and traditionally he only involved himself in the business of the rangers. Now he was nominally wrangling all four branches of the Erin-Vulur government. It wasn’t the clean, mostly bloodless coup that I had hoped for. But it had worked a lot better than simply kicking in the front door and murdering Elder Lot would have.
Perwik was eating in silence, staring up at the frozen ceiling of the village's great ice cavern. Thukkar sat cross-legged beside him, picking at his claws with a knife far too large for the task. He was studiously avoiding looking at Nissikul. The one-armed Stormcaller was sitting naked to the waist, utterly unconcerned. She had dispelled the witch-ice simulacrum arm she had worn for most of the previous day, and now was working some foul-smelling poultice into the stump with single-minded determination. I watched the Deepseeker come down from his hut and join us around the pitiful fire. Finally, I quit stalling and blurted, "Will Volistad walk again?"
The tech shaman snorted as if the idea was patently ridiculous. I opened my mouth, with an angry snarl already on my lips, but he cut me off with a dismissive wave. "Of course he will walk again, silly godling. I didn't bring that boy back from the brink of the abyss just to watch him die the first time some brute broke his neck." He pointed a dirty, chipped claw at me, completely ignoring Nissi's warning growl. "That daft boy is about as hard to kill as you are. Probably heals faster, too. You two have more in common than you think." He pointed to my heart. "You aren't the only one with part of a god for a heart."
“Wait, what?”
But the Deepseeker just kept speaking as if he hadn’t just casually suggested that Volistad was also some kind of god. “Now we need to discuss this plan of yours, Storm Queen, and we need to do it soon. I’ve been keeping an eye on that old spirit of yours, and he’s up to no good. We don’t have a lot of time.”
"My plan was to kill him," I snapped, irritated. "I find Barbas, the Erin-Vulur hold off any horrible creations he's made, and I kill him. I knock down the tower he's building, and I take him down to Ravanur's temple.
I tear out his heart and seal it in one of those god-cells. Done."
The Deepseeker laughed, his voice crackling like breaking ice. "Ah yes, that always was the old bint's plan. Containment. Well, look where that got us." He leaned in close, one eye open wider than the other, which seemed to have started twitch so hard that he was having a hard time aiming it at me. "Let me ask you something, godling." Nissikul twitched, but I waved her off, annoyed. The Deepseeker didn't appear to have noticed. "Storm Queen, have you ever considered just killing all of the miserable bastards?"
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Volistad
Parley
Having my neck broken was a uniquely hellish experience. I couldn’t move, I could barely breathe and I could hardly speak. Things just happened around me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was Joanna’s champion, not the other way around. Sure, she had the powers of a demigod and could absolutely handle herself, but she had trusted the duel to me. And now here I was, lying in the Deepseeker’s workbench in the middle of his scrupulously neat hut. Furs and hides had been laid down over the stone work-table, but that didn’t change the fact that I felt like one of the old shaman’s magick projects. Joanna had been explaining some of her own magick, the metal and spirits with which she had come down from the sky. She didn’t call it magick, she called it teck. I wasn’t sure what teck meant, but it didn’t mean anything mystical or spiritual. When she said teck, she meant things like the grain mill. Machines. The Deepseeker made machines, not magic. Was I one of those machines? After all, I had magick, no, a teck heart in my chest instead of one made of flesh. Had the Deepseeker really saved my life? Was I still Erinye, or was I something… else? After all, I had just had my neck snapped, and I hadn't died. There was only one other thing I knew about like that- the very Child of the Eater King that had killed me. Was that all that beat in my chest a wriggling, metallic insect that wore my meat body like I wore armor?
Volistad: Paranormal Sci-Fi Alien Romance (Alien Mates Book 3) Page 33
