by CM Raymond
Bast now stood inside the beast, the warmth of it wrapping around her. Arryn and Cathillian stared at her with wide eyes and scrunched faces, and the woman began to gag.
“Oh, fuck—” Dry heave. “I did not—” Dry heave. “Think that through.” As she stepped out of its head, she looked down at her legs, which were covered in Skrim blood and guts to the knees. “The smell!”
“There it is,” Arryn called, just as Bast finally threw up.
The ground trembled behind Arryn and Cathillian. Arryn flipped her bow back over her shoulder and arced her hands over her chest. Two bright blue fireballs appeared as she spun and threw them.
The fire exploded in the face of another Skrim as Cathillian wrapped it in vines. With the flick of her wrist, Arryn sent a spike of earth between the plates of its armor and through the soft flesh just under the jaw.
Arryn? Julianne sent telepathically. We could use your help.
We’re surrounded here. I need to thin out a few more, Arryn replied.
Do your best. There’s not much time.
Arryn didn’t bother to respond. She knew what she had to do.
“You okay?” Cleo asked Bast. “You smell like a leathery burnt piece of shit that gave birth to another piece of shit, and then it fermented for a few weeks inside the bloated gut of a dead skunk—”
“Are you quite done?” Bast asked.
“And was then shat out and then stuffed up the ass of that thing right there, where it was keistered for a good long while before you stepped in it,” Cleo finished, completely ignoring her sister.
“Leathery burnt piece of shit?” Cathillian asked.
“I hate to break this up,” Arryn interrupted. “But Julianne needs me elsewhere. We need to wrap this up as quickly as possible.”
Another Skrim charged, and Arryn’s eyes flashed black. She took a few steps toward it and swung both arms forward, clapping her hands together. A blast of wind sent the beast tumbling backward, and the twins opened the ground just as Cathillian wrapped it in vines.
“It’ll break free,” Arryn cautioned once it was hogtied and buried.
“But not before we take a few more of these down,” Cleo shot back.
A loud roar sounded from behind as Snow leapt over Arryn and raced toward a Skrim that was about to attack one of the heroes—the weird looking cat-man. Arryn had yet to learn his name.
Dante was close behind, and Arryn grasped his neck and swung up on his back. He stormed forward as she pulled her bow free. Over the years, she had trained hard to become a deadly shot from horseback, or in this case, tiger-back.
Without speaking, Arryn shared her desire to head toward the young man, who looked lost. Definitely not a warrior like the others.
Dante shifted his direction, and she nocked an arrow. She shot the Skrim in the eye, just as she had the other one. It immediately turned its attention to her and Dante.
“You go high, I’ll go low,” Arryn suggested.
Dante grumbled his agreement. Just before they reached the angered Skrim, Arryn leapt and rolled across the ground. The Skrim almost stepped on her, but Dante was too fast.
He clamped down on the beast’s throat just under the chin where it was spongiest. Arryn pulled her daggers and shoved them both deep into its neck close to where Dante held on.
The beast roared in pain as Dante ripped and pulled, blood raining all over Arryn. She tumbled out of the way as the Skrim fell dead to the ground.
Dante looked and smelled terrible, and once again she would have to spend a great deal of time cleaning his mouth. She stood and sheathed her filthy daggers before pulling water from the air, the tiger already opening his mouth. They didn’t like the taste any more than she liked seeing them bite into the monsters.
Arryn gave Dante a quick rinse before picking up the bow. Once it was secured, she made her way to the man who had tripped and fallen. She extended a hand.
When he looked up at her, there was something familiar about him. “Thanks,” he said. “That was a close one. I probably shouldn’t be out here without a weapon, but I’m looking for Hannah.”
Arryn’s eyes widened and she smiled. “Gregory? Is that you?”
He looked at her with obvious confusion, gazing at her extended hand then back to her face. “Um. Yes?”
Arryn laughed hard. “Holy shit. After all these years, I’m still saving your ass.”
His confusion deepened for a moment before his expression changed to total recognition. “Arryn?”
She nodded, and he finally took her hand. She pulled him up and wrapped him in a hug. “I’ve missed you. Sorry to see you again under these circumstances. Let’s catch up once I’m done kicking ass.”
Gregory smiled. “I’d like to say the grown-up you surprises me, but it really doesn’t. We’ll talk later.”
Arryn waved and ran back to Dante. Without a word he knelt, allowing her to climb onto his back. “We’re both gonna need baths later, bud. Sorry.”
He groaned in response. The tigers loved the water, but didn’t enjoy how vigorously she scrubbed them when they were covered in Skrima blood.
While she was riding back to Cathillian, Bast, and Cleo, she saw two more dead Skrim bodies.
“We can handle this now,” Cathillian told her. “You need to go be a hero.”
Arryn nodded. “You keep Snow with you. I’m taking Dante.”
“Now who smells like fermented shit?” Bast asked.
“Hey, that was your sister. Not me for once—though I have to admit I was dying inside to laugh at you. I guess karma counts for bad thoughts, too,” Arryn mused before taking off.
Where do you need me? Arryn asked Julianne. I’m headed to Corrine to get a healing boost, then I’m on my way.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hannah landed on top of Ezekiel’s body. Her instincts kicked in and she rolled to her feet without hesitation. Her assault on her mentor had focused her; brought control back where passions had ruled. She spun to meet her friend, who had now become her most formidable foe.
But Ezekiel was gone.
In his place, standing in the middle of a field of purple crystal, was an all-too-familiar person. He was just over six feet tall, and while not quite muscular, his body was trim and fit. Deep-set eyes split by a slightly crooked nose glared at her.
“We meet again,” he said, his mouth curling up into a smile that looked more like the snarl of a rabid animal.
“Adrien! It can’t—”
The man laughed, cutting her off. “After all this, all you have seen in your short miserable life, you’re still talking about what can and can’t be?” He tsked her. “Welcome to the vishen, my dear.”
Hannah felt her stomach flip. Arcadia’s former chancellor, the man who had once destroyed her life, was before her. He had defied death more than once, and now it seemed he had skirted his demise once again. She wanted to lash out in rage, but her curiosity got the better of her. “Vishen?”
“Yes. That’s what we call it at least, me and my compatriots in our new tongue. I guess you would call it the in-between.” He glanced around. The purple seemed to extend for miles in a pure unbroken sea. It would have been peaceful if it weren’t for the murderous prick in front of her. “A little boring, as you can see, but a cock-hair better than total annihilation. And we have some peace and quiet to talk.”
“Damn you, Adrien,” she growled.
“You tried that before, darling, and it doesn’t seem to have worked.” He paused for effect. “Now, our mentor and I have come to terms with our little disagreements of the past. It seems the good folk of Hyrrheim have helped Ezekiel think differently of his old path to paradise, and I have had my own conversion.
“We have been reunited in our goals to build the perfect world. Together, we will rule a purer heaven than the one we had hoped to bring to Irth after the Madness. We just need your most precious resources to make that happen.”
Hannah crossed her arms in front of herself, creating
a massive fireball in each hand. “Over my dead body.”
Adrien laughed. “A little cliché, don’t you think? But that can be arranged. However, Ezekiel and I were thinking of more of a partnership. Join us, Hannah. Be the kind of queen that the Matriarch could never have been.”
Her eyes narrowed. She knew the ghost from her past had an angle, but she couldn’t grasp it. Her mind swam through possibilities.
He cocked his head to the side. “Our queen, Hannah. Build with us. It is precisely what you were trained to do.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Adrien. I was trained to kick your sorry ass, and to even the scales of Justice in a land soiled by your insolence and arrogance.”
“Perhaps, but we can all change course. Maybe my other colleague can convince you.” Adrien nodded to Hannah’s right.
She turned cautiously, ready for an attack from the former Chancellor.
It didn’t come.
“Hello, Hannah.”
His voice was just as she remembered, only stronger.
His body was similar, but it showed no evidence of the sickness that had eaten away at him in his final days before the Founder healed him.
“William?” Her voice trembled as she said her brother’s name.
He nodded and took a step toward her. “I’ve been here, waiting for you. I knew you would come.” William’s voice rang with the innocence she remembered so well.
Involuntary tears streamed from her eyes. “Will…”
He smiled at her, and that was when she knew.
The smile was all wrong.
A spear of ice formed in her hand, and with one fluid motion, she launched it at him.
The overly-zealous smile never faded from the boy’s face, even when the spear passed carelessly through his image. It flickered and disappeared.
“Bastard!” she screamed as she turned and launched a volley of fireballs at Adrien. He swatted them away, one after another, but with each attack, Hannah drew closer. Finally, only feet away, she stopped. The two old adversaries stared into each other’s magic-hued eyes. “Show yourself, Zeke. I want to see your ugly mug when I drop you.”
Adrien laughed as the purple paradise around them dissolved, leaving them in a plain field just a few hundred yards away from the fighting. As the world returned to normal, Adrien’s face began to change. His features shifted and blurred, revealing Ezekiel.
“I trained you well, Hannah. The old you was always too susceptible to mental magic. I figured you’d lose yourself forever, holding hands with the mirage of your poor dead brother.”
“Shut up and fight, you old fool!” She cast a bolt of energy at him, which he easily spun away from.
“Same old tricks, Hannah?” He raised a brow. “You’ve gotten lazy since I’ve been gone. And I thought this might actually be a challenge. I’m embarrassed, really!”
“Just imagine how embarrassed you’ll be when I kick your ass,” she cried.
“You could never beat me.”
“Maybe not the old me,” she retorted. “And maybe not the old you. The old you was a hero. A champion for Justice. Now you’re just another washed-up wannabe tyrant, slave to your own delusions.”
The old man laughed. “Slave? Slave?” He spun his staff over his head, and as he did the wind picked up and a tempest rolled in from nowhere. Lightning crashed around them and raindrops fell from the sky. “You have it all wrong. I am, for the first time in my long life, free of the prison called ‘Irth’ and all her imbecile animals.”
The gusts picked up, pitching dust and rain at Hannah horizontally. She shielded her eyes with her arm, keeping her focus on Ezekiel.
His voice cracked with passion. “Slavery was working to save those who were destined to fail miserably and, given a second chance, chose the same damn blunders.” He flipped his staff, and the wind swept into tiny funnels that surrounded Hannah and threatened attack. “Slavery was giving up everything I had—giving up life and legacy and love—for those who wanted nothing more than to live in their own self-made hell.”
The tornados grew and inched ever nearer to Hannah. Lightning crashed close enough that she could feel its electricity tickle her skin.
“Slavery was continuing to hope for a future that could never exist.” As he spoke the storms grew in strength, and Ezekiel’s old body grew with them. He was now taller, stronger, and more imposing that she had ever seen him. “Slavery was the existence of a dim-witted old fool and a fragile, abused little girl who thought they could change it all.” He spread his arms and raised them toward the sky, and in response, the skies roared. “Slavery was ever-hoping in Lilith’s power and in the potential of a sniveling little bitch from the Boulevard.”
“Zeke, please! What’s wrong with you?” she yelled.
“That’s right! Cry in desperation before the god of our certain future! Bow to me, and I will set you free!”
The power in the storm was almost as terrifying as the resolve in the voice of the man who had once saved her. And it all became clear.
Julianne had been right.
Their friend was no more. Ezekiel was gone, replaced by a monster with an appetite for destruction. When she realized this, the Etheric energy welled up inside of her. Her skin grew hot, and her limbs trembled uncontrollably. Hannah gave herself over to the emotion…and to the power. She let go of all control and cursed discipline.
The torrent grew stronger, all but sweeping her into the heavens.
At that moment, she knew the truth. If there were to be any hope for her home, she was it—and she possessed enough power to do it.
“BE STILL!” she screamed into the unholy maelstrom created by her adversary.
And everything stopped.
All that remained were the two strongest wizards in Irth standing alone in utter silence.
Ezekiel’s smile vanished. His eyes grew wide, and he slowly lowered his arms.
Hannah could only stare at him.
“Did you forget that in the tunnels of Archangelsk, that little ‘bitch from the Boulevard’ was infused with the blood of the Queen Bitch?”
She ran at him.
Ezekiel threw orbs of energy at her, and she flicked them away like they were nothing. With a scream, she dropped and slammed her fist into the ground, sending a mighty tremor in his direction.
The old man staggered, then hit the deck. Hannah was on top of him before he could respond. Holding him down with one hand, she delivered blow after blow to his face. After what felt like an eternity, she stopped and looked into his bloody swollen visage.
“Come back to me,” she begged.
For a split second, something broke in his gaze. For an instant, his eyes turned from red to their old, tired gray.
Hannah breathed an exhausted sigh.
With a cry of pain, she looked down and saw her blood pour over her adversary’s hand, which gripped the rearick’s dagger he’d plunged beneath her ribs.
Ezekiel pushed her body off and stood over her.
“It’s finished,” he pronounced. He raised his familiar oak staff, and it transformed into a wooden lance with a deadly point.
As he prepared to stab her, Hannah used what energy she had left and created the most basic form of magic she knew. A perfectly-aimed fireball no bigger than a Baseeki’s fist struck Ezekiel square in the chest.
His hubris had blinded him to the possibility of her final effort. When the ball found its target, his robes burst into flames. Ezekiel flailed like a drunken dancer and tore off the flaming, tattered cloth, dropping it to the ground in desperation.
A mixed sense of horror and awe struck Hannah when she saw his body. It was covered by what at first looked like some sort of horrific, bulbous armor, but then the “armor” moved and twitched. Attached to the magician was a grotesque creature, or maybe a dozen; it was hard to judge.
Tiny tendrils or arms were embedded into his flesh, making the creature more part of its host than a separate entity. She barely caught a glimpse
of the thing as it curved around his back and moved up the length of his spine, terminating in what she could only consider a head.
“The fucking hell?” she breathed, still gripping the rearick’s knife in her side.
Ezekiel walked toward her. “Now you truly know me, my dear. Take a good look. This is the master race.”
Hannah’s vision blurred and then came back into focus. She inched back from the monster she had once considered a friend, but with a flick of his wrist, roots from deep below coiled themselves around her arms and legs. It looked like it barely cost him any effort.
The old man stared down at her.
“Irth and Hyrrheim have birthed a child to bring together our worlds, and now, with the heroes gone, there is nothing to stop us!”
He raised a glowing hand, and Hannah knew it was the end.
“Where’re my reinforcements?” Astrid yelled into the sky, hoping that the mystics could hear her. “I’m getting lonely out here.”
The truth was that it was too cramped for her to use her weapon effectively, and the Well was beginning to run dry.
Don’t worry, Julianne spoke back. I’ve found you a friend.
The ground rumbled and broke apart beneath her feet. “Whoa!” Astrid shouted aloud in spite of herself. “What the—“ She danced back as thick brown vines reached out and twined themselves around the Skrima that had closed in around her. Suddenly, Astrid could breathe easily.
Skrima were wrapped in vines like some kind of grotesque red melons ten-deep.
“Don’t just stand there!” Arryn shouted as she walked forward with eyes that glowed bright green. “Kill them before they cut themselves free!”
“On it!” Astrid shouted. Her task was a joy now that she could once again use her rope dart.
She took out the tangled Skrima in short order, then stood by Arryn’s side.
“So glad you could make it,” Astrid greeted her. “I saved you some.”
“Thanks for the invitation,” Arryn snarked. “So kind.” She grunted the last word as she conjured an icy mist that slowed the six monsters to a crawl. Astrid killed them with a combination of kicks and strikes from the rope dart. A huge tiger was running around too, which she guessed belonged to the druid.
