“Why are there independent valks?”
“Well, lets just say, some aren’t as good at dealing with you disgusting landlings as I am,” Meg said, her smile crooking. Liam made a face.
“Really? Disgusting landlings?”
“That’s, ah, the gentle saying,” Meg admitted, coughing. “You never wondered why you’ve met, what, three valkyrie in the past year? And that’s including the ones I convinced to be messengers?”
Liam sighed. He felt a bit guilty, suddenly. All this time with her, he had never asked. But in his defense, they had been on adventures. Riding and flying out through the world of Purgatory. Slaying monsters. Laying each other. There had been a lot of that. And when they had talked, Meg had been endlessly curious about Earth, about the culture. Hell, about the movies and TV shows. She had told him about philosophy and...
And as cheesy as it sounded, she taught him about her in the most basic language there was. How to bring pleasure, joy, laughter, in every little smile and tiny caress.
“Well, when I have the best valkyrie in Purgatory, how could I wonder about the others?” Liam asked.
Meg chuckled. “Good save.” She leaned forward. Their tongues met, their lips fused, and the worries of the war and the world faded. If only for a moment. When Meg drew back, she breathed out a soft sigh. “But no. There are a few good reasons why valks don’t like to mix with others. But there are so many bad that the good get... twisted up. Tainted.” She shook her head. “We’re strong. We can fly. And we recover from almost any wound, if you give us a few weeks.”
Liam brushed his hand along a feathered wing. Not for the first time, he marveled at their beauty.
“But strength became purity,” Meg said, her voice bitter. “Flight became not a blessing – rather, being flightless became a curse. And longevity became a reason to see others as animals. My mother was kicked out of her tribe for, get this, not murdering a man who walked on the ground. Trespassing.” She rolled her eyes.
Liam nodded.
“Of course, I think her family was also unhappy with the fact she rode him until he was raw, married him, and later had his child.” Meg said, rubbing her chin.
“You’re... wait, you’re half human?” Liam asked.
Meg snorted. “Fuck no. You’re either all valkyrie or all something else. If a male valk lays a human or an elf or a goblin lass, and they use the spell that allows cross-species fuckery to lead to more than just fun...” She grinned. “Then that lass will have a goblin or a human or an elf baby. But if a valk woman lays with any of them, they’ll always have a valk baby.”
She patted her thighs. “We’re...” She paused. “Specially equipped.”
Liam looked at her wings.
Looked down at the area hidden by her loincloth.
“The wings do start smaller,” Meg said, sounding amused.
Liam chuckled. “So, our best bet to get an air force are a bunch of racist bigots. Great.”
Meg chuckled. “I think we do have an advantage. Firstly, you are marrying the most beautiful, talented, sensual, erotically pleasing-”
“And humble,” Liam said, grinning.
“-and humble valkyrie in the world!” Meg said, proudly. “And that means you can send me as an ambassador.”
Liam nodded and kept what he felt about that idea from his face.
“Secondly, I know that valks look down on non-valks. But do you know what they’ll look down on even more?” She smiled. “Non-valks trying to conquer the world and subjugate it underneath a false and insane god.”
Liam nodded again.
“You hate this plan, don’t you?” Meg asked.
“Yes,” Liam admitted. “I... we’re not even married yet.”
“I know,” she said, quietly.
“Hell, we haven’t even started talking about what getting married means. We could talk to Mary, but I mean, I might want you to marry me with my priest, but he’s back on Earth and-” Liam cut himself off. “And I... it’s much easier to go out and risk my ass, or to go with you and fight back to back with you. But, let me guess, you can’t just bring a disgusting degenerate landling to one of these tribes.”
Meg sucked in air through her teeth. “Yeah, I don’t see it working out.”
Liam sighed. “Sending you out-”
Meg put her finger on his lips.
“Liam,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was a warrior long before I met you. A messenger and a servant of Apollo. I know you’re just worried about me. But I’m still me. Not just Meg Vanderbilt.”
Liam closed his eyes.
Nodded.
She kissed his forehead, then stepped back.
“I’ll set out when the sun kindles...”
Her breast band hit the floor.
Her eyes glinted.
Liam grinned at her.
“Let's make the night last,” Meg purred.
The door burst inwards.
“Sir!” one of the Cross Guard – a soldier who had served by Liam’s side during the Battle of Babylon – stumbled into the room. He looked like he had sprinted almost two city blocks in his full armor. But whatever he had been about to say was lost in the light of Meg’s exposed tits.
Which, to be fair, were among the most spectacular tits that Liam had ever seen.
And he had seen Mary, Tethis, Neb, and now Loki’s tits.
Not that he was ever going to tell anyone but Meg that he compared them.
“Report,” Liam snapped.
“It’s Loki, sir,” the soldier said.
***
A soft knock came to Tethis’ room. She blinked, looking up from her book – recently found at one of the many small shops in Babylon – and called out. “Yes?”
“It’s me.”
The gruff voice made Tethis’ heart flutter slightly. She stood, closing the book, and walked over to the door. Opening it, she smiled at Laurentinus. The tough, scarred goblin who had been a part of Liam’s inner circle for months now looked ill at ease. His ears twitched, his eyes flicked around the room as he stepped inside – following Tethis’ gesture. She smiled slightly at him. Before she had met Liam, Tethis would have been scared silly of a handsome goblin like Laurentinus walking into her room.
She’d have positively melted in excitement and fear and nervousness.
Well.
Now, she could just admire the way that the muscular soldier filled out his uniform, and maybe speculate what had brought him here this late at night.
“I’ve been thinking about the fall of Wodan,” he said.
Tethis blinked. Her mind skittered, trying to come back on track. “Wodan?” She coughed. “Well, uh, we don’t have many details, but it sounded like treason.”
Laurentinus shook his head.
“Loki was here.”
Tethis’ brow furrowed.
“It’d take a special kind of traitor to get through Odin’s security. He’s a god of wisdom, secrets. His ravens see all, right?” Laurentinus said, sounding slightly hesitant at her expression. But seeing her nod, he continued, gaining in confidence. “Anyone else would get caught. They didn’t. They got in, they got Odin, they got Thor, they got Sif. They got the city. Not treason. Right?”
Tethis nodded again.
“How did you and Liam get here? And Meg too?” Laurentinus pointed at her.
“We used a teleport shrine,” Tethis said. “They’re shrines built by the Ancients...”
She trailed off, her eyes widening.
Laurentinus must have heard something that tipped him off. He grabbed Tethis and shoved her backwards moments before the door burst inwards in a spray of splinters. Standing there, knives in their hands, were four rough, human men.
They advanced, wordlessly.
***
Liam emerged out front to find a large crowd gathered in-front of his manor house. This was not unusual. But the crowd being armed was. Loki stood before them, holding up her hands, looking like she was torn between being amused,
annoyed and afraid.
“Traitor!”
“Balder killer!”
“Kin slayer!”
The crowd, Liam noticed, were all Aesir. There was a good chunk of Aesir in the Babylonian community – their blond and red hair making them stand out among the more swarthy Coptics and Hellenes. And currently, they were being led by…
“Amund of Thor,” Liam said, making sure to pitch his voice loud enough to be heard over the angry babble, but still quiet enough that he sounded like he wasn’t trying to shout. “I see you’ve decided that debate requires weapons again.”
Amund of Thor was not exactly as hideous as Mary had sometimes described him. In fact, though Liam wasn’t a perfect judge of such things, he actually would have been fairly handsome, had it not been for the seemingly perpetual sneer smeared across his face. He was tall and strong looking and his beard was combined and pleated with no small skill. His long hair was tied back behind his head in a ponytail that gave him a somewhat rakish look. His robes were simple, and the holy symbol of Thor that hung around his neck gave him an almost Christian air. His arms were crossed over his chest.
“We’re here for the betrayer,” he said, his voice lofty.
Loki scowled. “I am a god,” she said, her voice matching and then exceeding Amund’s level of arrogance. Liam honestly didn’t like it. Loki had been approachable. Likable. Human, even. Seeing this side of her made her seem…
Smaller.
“All right,” Liam said, lifting up his hands. “There is no way that Loki could have done anything to betray Odin. The attack came while she was here. Or do you think that her magic could override Odin and Thor and Sif from halfway around Purgatory?” He shook his head. “Loki came here to help us and to get help for her people – not to betray anyone.”
The crowd murmured. He could see several people starting to lower their weapons. Amund of Thor looked sour.
Then-
A vice grip closed around his wrist. Loki hissed. “Tethis! Go! Now!” She pointed.
Liam blinked in confusion. But the look in Loki’s eyes filled him with dread. He turned and ran, no words. He just ran.
***
Tethis flung out her wrist. The bolt of energy was rapidly coalesced and still had enough punch to send one of the men sprawling backwards. He groaned and started to try to get to his feet. But the other three were already in the room. Laurentinus drew his sword. He stepped forward and his blade darted out. One of the assassins parried. But faster than Tethis could see, Laurentinus stepped closer, then slashed the other way, canceling one attack and making the other in the same fluid motion.
The assassin hit the ground, clutching at his leg.
The other, though, came at Laurentinus from the side. His sword crashed into the goblin’s side and sent Laurentinus staggering. By then, Tethis had worked up another bolt. This one took an assasin’s head off. His blood misted the wall. The one she had knocked over was back on his feet.
The fourth was over her.
Pain.
Tethis staggered.
And then the one who had come back to his feet was down.
Liam.
Tethis’ heart surged as she saw the assassin’s head lolling backwards off his head, his spine almost completely severed by Liam’s blow. Liam wasn’t even using his longsword, Delenn. He had just grabbed a sword from one of the Cross Guard.
Tethis looked down at herself.
A blade stuck from her leg.
Ah.
That was what hurt. She’d fix that.
Liam seemed to be moving in slow motion. Reaching for her. His lips forming a word. The translation spell seemed to take forever to turn it from English to Coptic.
“No!”
Tethis yanked the blade out. It felt heavy in her hand. She looked down and saw blood spurting from her leg. A lot.
She felt...
Oddly sleepy.
She closed her eyes.
***
Tethis hit the floor. Liam scrambled forward, forgetting the last assassin, not even hearing him as Laurentinus tackled him to the ground. His hand grabbed onto Tethis’ thigh, squeezing, desperately pinching. He screamed at the top of his lungs, his vision blurring. “Healer! Healer! Healer!”
The best healer was in his hands.
Tethis looked oddly peaceful, her head lolling to the side. But it was all marred by the blood. So much blood.
Too much blood.
Liam kept his hand on the wound, his body shaking. He kept his hand on the wound when the blood stopped. He kept his hand on the wound when the healer came. He kept his hand there until Meg gently took him and dragged him back and the healers carried the wrapped body away.
He didn’t speak as Meg led him back to their chambers.
She gently wiped his hands. Her hands shook. Her eyes were filled with tears.
Liam saw clearly.
“Liam,” Meg croaked.
Liam slowly closed his hands. He felt her hands. His fingers touched her skin. He ducked his head forward. The first thing he wanted to say felt wrong. It couldn’t be right. None of this could be right. Earlier today, Tethis had been telling him about her ideas for speeding musket production. Earlier today, he was admiring her... her all of her. Her intellect, her body, her ideas. Her endless need to read.
Liam looked away from Meg and at the door.
He expected Tethis to come walking in.
“Liam,” Meg whispered.
Liam closed his eyes. He leaned into her. Quietly, he whispered. “I...”
A single word. It was too much. His throat clenched. Meg’s wing closed around him. Then her other.
And together, they grieved.
***
“It’s done.”
Liv kept her eyes closed and remained still beneath the blankets that were set out in the tent. Any general she knew would have spent the last week celebrating. Sacking a town could bring wealth and rape enough to keep a certain kind of man entertained but not Brax. Part of her felt a warm glow at that knowledge. But a bigger part, part that could look past the moment, was deeply uncertain.
The army had set out almost immediately after the fall of Wotan. Brax had left behind guards at the city, Sysminor had forged cages of solid crystal, shaped in the same way as nulldarts, and they had set off along the coast on the part of the Aesir navy that had bent their knee.
The first town they had run into hadn’t even been aware that Wotan had fallen. They hadn’t had defenses up. The boats had sailed into dock and the lizardfolk sprang from the decks of the ships. Their spears had flashed and they had rushed through the city streets. It had been over in less than an hour, with only a few casualties on Brax’s side. Those casualties had recovered in a few hours.
They moved only slightly slower than the warning and even those towns that had been warned were barely able to resist. Huscrals had started to answer the call as well. Liv had watched as the first ranked mass of heavy infantry arrived to bend the knee to Brax and Sysminor. The false god had preened as if he had kindled the sun.
Brax slept poorly that night. Groping at the air, his claws had flashed in the dim light seeping through the edges of the tent and Liv had laid there, unable to help him.
Asura. Asura.
That name from his past.
“I see.” The tent flap swung shut again and Brax stepped back to where he had been sitting. Liv watched as he sat. His back was stiff enough that she could count the ridges of his spine.
“What happened now, oh glorious general?” Liv asked. She hadn’t taken a tone like that for a while.
Brax’s shoulders bunched further. “Shut up,” he growled.
Liv shook her head. “So. You’ve taken half a dozen towns in under a week. That’s two major cities.” She frowned. “Stretching yourself thin.”
“Huscrals will fix that,” Brax said, his voice dull. “With the right mixture of forces, we can take Olimurias.”
Liv’s brow furrowed.
“
With Olimurias, we have scribes and mages. We have a place to base our navy to attack the enemy. We remove some more gods from the war.”
Liv remained silent for a time. She felt her stomach clench – it was like she had eaten something unsavory. She wanted to let it out, but knew that losing this would take more than voiding herself. It was a poison feeling, not an under-cooked fish. She rolled onto her hands and knees, then pushed herself up. Remaining low, moving with the faint rocking of the ship, she came to Brax and knelt behind him.
“What have you done?” she asked.
“Fizit had an idea,” Brax said. “To ensure we don’t face...” he paused. “Difficulties.”
Liv shook her head. “An abortion?”
“What?” Brax snapped his head around, looking at her.
Liv frowned. “You haven’t noticed?”
Brax turned to face Liv head on. “No. What have you seen?”
Liv sighed. “Fizit’s pregnant. I figured you’d, of all people, would notice.”
Brax shook his head. “I, ah, haven’t had much experience. With. Uh...” He trailed off, his golden nares flushing a bright red – the blush strong enough to be seen through a magical curse. That was impressive, in its own way.
“You are not a virgin,” Liv said, rolling her eyes. Inside, she giggled. So, there were things Brax wasn’t built to handle, huh?
“With mothers,” Brax finished.
“Mm,” Liv sighed. “Well, Fizit is pregnant. How did you not notice her tits?”
Brax shook his head. “Fizit isn’t interested in me in that way.”
“So you ignore her completely?” Liv sounded skeptical.
“It’s remarkably easy,” Brax said, regaining some of his composure. He looked somber. “But...” He paused. “That’s going to be awkward.”
“What?” Liv asked.
Brax told her.
Liv grabbed his head by the frills and slammed her knee into his nose. The crunch was audible. And quite satisfying.
Brax didn’t fight back. He simply slumped to the side, letting the pain fade as he rested his head on the floor. Liv panted, her head hanging forward.
The Blood Groove (Purgatory Wars Book 4) Page 8
