Gods of Shadow and Flame

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Gods of Shadow and Flame Page 8

by M. H. Johnson


  “Please, mistress, I beg of you, mercy!”

  Awful mocking laughter was his only answer.

  Jess forced open gummy eyes, feeling dizzy and strange. Gazing down at a version of herself shorter of stature, far more slender of form. The body of a girl only at the cusp of womanhood.

  She gazed up to behold herself in a chamber of brimstone and soul blackened metal, flames shooting out of numerous pits in the cratered ground. The room stunk of sulfur, rust, and endless suffering. And Jess was not alone. Vile creatures of maggots and putrid flesh were present as well, grinning so lasciviously at the writhing man they tortured in the heart of that chamber, their double hinged jaws opening wide with their twisted joy, showing multiple rows of daggerlike teeth.

  Forked tongues hissed in pleasure, insectoid eyes fixed intently upon the soul bleeding under their vile care.

  "Please!" the tormented soul screamed. As hideous whips of braided malice tore into his suppurated flesh.

  The man gasped and twisted in his agony, and Jess caught a glimpse of his face at last.

  A face once possessing such handsome, aristocratic features; twisted with such vile hate whenever he would so much as gaze at her. Now warped and ragged, screaming in endless pain. Eyes now black as the void, filled with unimaginable despair. "Please! Mistress! I beg of you!"

  "Beg, Franken? Oh dear. I had expected so much more of you than that."

  And Franken suddenly writhed and screamed in hideous torment as a creature both beautiful and terrible sauntered around him, her sensual lips curved into a beauteous grin, eyes glowing like jeweled embers, hair the color of crimson flame.

  Her lithe, muscular body was that of one who knew herself utterly, every step a dance wherein she exercised complete control. Powerful muscles sheathed in soft, milky white flesh, she was both incredibly sensual, and, Jess was chillingly certain, inconceivably deadly. Her gracefully flowing arms hinted at power sufficient to shatter stone. Lush round breasts gently swaying with her every movement, she stroked herself with one hand even as a long nailed finger of the other gently caressed Franken's flesh, searing and burning a trail of ruin wherever it touched.

  Eyes closing in darkest rapture, the awful creature shuddered with every scream she forced from Franken's lips.

  Jess felt her heart hammer as icy panic froze her in its awful grip, realizing she was but a child before the greatest monster she had ever known.

  Strutting about in a body Jess knew intimately.

  Wearing a face she saw every time she looked in the mirror. And how often do you get Mother or Apple to braid your hair? Refuse all makeup? You can't stand the mirror, Jess.

  You never know for sure who is looking back.

  “Ah, Franken. I am disappointed beyond words. You were supposed to bring my precious Jezabelle back with you. My beloved little Valkyrie. Screaming and writhing as she was pulled back here, burned alive and spurned by those she had fought so hard to rescue. Consumed by pain inconceivable. Hate unimaginable.”

  She sighed and softly tutted. "Oh well, dear Franken, I suppose I shall have to entertain myself with you, for the moment. Soothe my ire with the blissful melody of your screams.”

  And Jess gazed on in speechless horror as that ancient queen did horrific things to the begging, screaming Franklin.

  Gouging his tortured flesh, savoring his blood and tears, shuddering in climax as her victim's lungs ruptured with his shrieks.

  His flesh, scored completely from his frame. Muscles shredded and flayed. Every bone shattered. And still he looked on in unspeakable agony.

  Sighing in sweetest satisfaction, still shuddering with afterglow, the terrible demoness sensually bent down to kiss Franken's brow. For only the top of his head was left blissfully intact, even his jaw and teeth shattered to pulp. “Ah, dear Franken. It is always such sweet rapture to share these moments with you. No, no, no need for tears right now. Save them for tomorrow. When we will do it all over again.”

  Lilith laughed then, mocking and cold, even as Franken writhed in unspeakable agony, the quivering shock of a soul being crushed and ruptured by unspeakable forces as his body was hideously reformed, muscles resewn to bone and flesh, every vessel and organ regenerated before Jess's stunned gaze, a shrieking Franken as tortured by his near instant regeneration as he had been by the endless torments that had broken him to a hideous pile of quivering flesh.

  Lilith gently kissed Franken's forehead one last time even as he cried out, shaking with exhaustion and horror, pleading in desperate panicked sobs for mercy. In a move so heartstoppingly fast the young girl found herself stumbling back, Lilith twisted her head right around to gaze straight at Jess, grinning wide with twisted pleasure.

  Terrible eyes that sensed so much.

  That had never for a second been fooled by the deathly silent girl, shuddering, forced to watch the horrors that had unfolded.

  "Ah, there you are, my poppet. Mother has missed you so! Are you ready to come home, my daughter? Did you enjoy the show? It was for your benefit, after all. Dear, sweet Franken, arranging for the rape of your sister, the destruction of your family. Arranging so meticulously for you, dearest Jezabelle, to be burned alive."

  Lilith's sensual lips curved once more into a hideous smile. “All that delicious treachery. And here, the man responsible for all those torments, lays helpless before you.”

  A graceful hand, fingernails lacquered in crimson, gently reached out for her.

  “Come, my Jezabelle. You need but take a single, willing step, and you shall be back with mumsy once more. Such delights we shall have together, my child. All our previous misunderstandings forgotten, forging worlds of hideous wonder and unspeakable pleasure, together.”

  Speechless with horror, shaking with dread, Jess couldn't move.

  Her mind screamed with the most hideous of revelations. All the dark, vile secrets she had thought locked safely in the darkest reaches of her mind, memories she had forgotten for so many lifetimes, now scuttling free. An unrelenting susurration of revelations that left her desperate to escape into blackness, to flee the hideous knowledge the vile creature before her slithered into her mind with the force of a bandit's thrust, raping her psyche, crushing her with truths too vile to bear.

  “Accept it, Jezabelle.” Her mother's cruel whisper.

  Forked tongue kissing the air by the trembling girl's ear. “Accept who you are. Accept what you are.”

  “Revel in your place in Hell, my child.”

  Brilliant ruby eyes locked upon her own, rosebud lips flowing so easily into the cruelest of smiles. She was Jess. At her darkest, most furious, most vindictive. "Revel by my side, my daughter, and together we shall fulfill your destiny, the ending of all things! Ours the final dirge, as reality itself screams and dies to our killing blows. We, the ultimate, the final gods, shall rip asunder the clock of eternity, and revel as it crashes into the Void that will consume everything! Vengeance against the angels that cast me out, vengeance against the father that laid me low! All will perish, howling their panic, and we shall watch them burn!"

  Jess cried out then.

  Nothing like the whisper of but moments before.

  A shriek that sent Lilith stumbling back, snarling like a beast, like Jess at her ugliest. The hellish minions that had been gazing so hungrily at Jess lurched back in horror as they turned the palest shade of gray, shattering as they tumbled over, frozen instantly to stone.

  A gentle paw touched the trembling girl ever so softly upon the shoulder.

  “Come, my Jezabelle. I think we have both seen enough, and it is much as I had feared. Lilith's domains are always plagued by a distinct lack of fishies. Now it is time for us to go home.”

  “Fish are a thing of life, you foolish cat! Not fit for a god of Oblivion!” Lilith screamed, but the young girl and her cat had already fled.

  9

  “What is wrong with my daughter? Malek's magics healed her, no? I saw it myself. We all saw it! Why won't she wake up?”
/>   The baroness's sobs tore at Jess's heart. Her mother was always so strong. So fierce. So protective and assured. Yet here in her moment of vulnerability, sobbing gently into Dean Echobart's fatherly arms, she revealed herself at last. A mother who knew not the fates of any of her children, alone and devastated in a world gone mad.

  Even in her dreaming state, Jess felt the comforting presence of her closest companion, brother of shield and blade, Malek smiling so tenderly down upon her.

  "It will be okay, baroness," Malek softly assured. "Her soul just needs time to heal. It was an infernal blade that bastard wielded, but don't worry, my lady. I swear to you I did everything I possibly could to stitch her body back together, all the tiny tears only blood knows how to heal. It only remains for her mind to waken once more."

  Grateful eyes, elegant and beautiful, fastened upon Malek and smiled, even as Echobart gently added his own words of assurance. “There now, baroness. Young Malek is right. And he has it on the best authority of all. Our dear Twilight himself has assured us of his mistress's recovery, no?”

  “There he goes wagging his tale and barking secrets again. Silly Hound,” quipped a comforting presence by Jess's side, even then absently licking his paw and cleaning fur that still shimmered like the starry heavens, for all that Jess knew she slept still. “He is right, though. The last of that infernal taint was burned away when we left Lilith in a pout, with only dear, quivering Franken to sate her frustrated desires.” He chuckled softly. “Poor Franken. I almost pity that poor damned soul.” Brilliant sapphire eyes cold as the empty void smiled at Jess's spirit form. "Almost."

  Jess gave a sad shake of her head. For all she felt was sorrow for the tormented soul that had once been Franken, who only understood the true depths of his folly when he was already drowning in the blackest waters of Hades, beyond anyone's ability to rescue, ever again.

  Malek nodded solemnly, gazing tenderly down upon Jess. Rough, powerful fingers gently stroked her cheek. "She will be right as rain before we know it," Malek assured, flashing a vulnerable smile for her closed eyes alone. He lowered himself down with gentle solemnity, brushing his lips across her brow. "Wake up, my Jess. I couldn't stand to lose you now."

  He stood up, cracked his back, and smiled self-consciously at dean and baroness alike. “If you don't mind, I'll step out for some practice. Take my mind off things.”

  Echobart and Agda exchanged a glance, both gazing almost apologetically at Malek.

  “You do me proud, you know, young Squire,” Echobart assured. “I know Eloquin was damned pleased to have you under his tutelage as well. You are as fierce a warrior and deadly a tactician as a king could ever hope to have leading his armies.”

  Malek flushed and smiled, bowing his head. "Thank you, Dean Echobart. That actually means something, to hear you say those words. Jess and I always strove to be the best we could be, though to be honest, I thought we'd be gazing at the grim face of war, together. Somehow I never foresaw life taking quite this series of twists and turns."

  Echobart nodded solemnly. “It has been a strange and winding path indeed, young Sousel. Yet grateful we are for the detours you and Jessica have both taken. For the sake of our college, for the sake of our nation, for the artifact you and your companions have brought to our king's attention. May it serve us well in the times to come.”

  Malek chuckled softly. “Of course you would know about that, Echobart. You were no small player in the great game, I know. Nor are you even now, I suspect.” His gaze grew thoughtful. “I never would have thought Jess and I would become Delvers, or that she would leave that life before I.” He sighed. “Of course, given our... state, I would be surprised if the king wanted to use us in the war to come as he once did.”

  Words said offhandedly, yet his gaze was no less discerning than that of a dryly chuckling Echobart. Agda's brows furrowed in sudden alarm. “For gods' sake, Echobart! Please tell me the king isn't seriously thinking of using my daughter to lead a madman's charge still!”

  Echobart raised his hands in mock surrender. “I am not privy to the king's thoughts. Frankly, I am just glad the royal replacements are now under Lieutenant Alben's charge.”

  Malek nodded. “Field promoted to captain for meritorious service, at the lords' own insistence. And I can't say I blame them. For all his probing questions, he smells like a decent sort.”

  Agda raised a curious eyebrow. “Smell, young Malek?”

  Malek grimaced and shrugged. "A poor choice of words, perhaps. Better for me to say he and his men never had Franken's... taint. And during those mad moments I had fought to save Jess, I sensed the worry in his gaze as well." He shook his head bitterly. "Or perhaps he was just afraid I would fly into a killing rage if I had failed to bring her back, and butcher everyone out of hand. Considering my reputation, it wouldn't surprise me a bit if he had thought just that."

  "Self-pity is beneath you, Malek," Agda scolded with a gentle smile. "You saved my daughter's life, and I will never be able to repay that. You are always welcome to stay with us for so long as you like, whenever you like. Our home is your home, Malek, and I would never make such an offer if I thought you half the mad hound you seem to think yourself."

  Malek lowered his head, humbled and grateful. “My Lady Calenbry.”

  “It's Agda,” she soothed, gently squeezing his arm. “You may call me Agda. Or even mother, if you like,” she smiled. “My daughter calls you her shieldbrother, after all, and I think I owe you for far more than even this miracle you have brought to my heart.”

  Malek gazed at Agda openmouthed, eyes haunted with desperate pain.

  Tears ran freely down his cheeks.

  Solemnly, he bent down before her, kissing the back of her palm, placing it with trembling hands to his forehead.

  “My blade shall be the weapon that lays your enemies low. I will defend the Calenbrys against all enemies. My cause is your cause. Your friends are my friends, and your foes mine till the bitter end.”

  Agda let loose a breathless gasp. “Malek. Dear, precious Malek. I demand no oath of allegiance from you.”

  Malek's smiling eyes glistened with tears. "No oaths are needed, dearest Baroness. For your daughter and I share a bond beyond blood, steel, and time. I will fight by her side against all foes. My blade beside her own, back to back, against all the forces of mundus or Hell itself. In this life as in all others. For all the turnings of the Great Wheel, till the end of all things, when the universe is pulled into the great Void once more."

  Agda trembled and stepped back, gazing at Malek with haunted eyes.

  Echobart gazed sadly at them both. “Events move apace, young hero. Glad I am that Jess can count on you in the battles to come, wherever, whenever, those may be. Just pray be careful, Malek. You serve Jess best alive and whole, safe and sane.”

  Malek shrugged. "I will do the best I can, my dean. But now, with so much at stake, my battleleader compels us to explore depths black and terrible indeed, for a prize like no other, and that is all I can ever say on the matter."

  Agda, gathering herself, nodded. “Morlekai.”

  Malek flashed a mirthless smile, nodding. “No man I would rather have at my back, for all that the nightmares I find myself sinking into by his side would send a gentler soul than mine screaming back to the garden from which he came.”

  Agda blinked. “When you say garden, do you mean Heaven?”

  Malek shrugged. “It is a place of redemption and rebirth. A place of peace, wonder, and reflection, much like Jess's horticultural marvel surrounding this college in all directions.” Malek blinked. “At least, that's what I've always thought.” He scratched his head, blinking. “Odd, that. I can't say why I feel that way, but I do.”

  Agda smiled and nodded. "At least our nation is tolerant toward all religions, so no noble may instigate flames of intolerance or insurrection against his fellows, or our king. Still, the druidic faith is less common these days than it once was, but it's not surprising that you and my Jessica sh
are such similar beliefs."

  Malek chuckled. “She is the sister of my heart, after all, and we have shared far too many dreams for it not to have affected us somehow.”

  Agda's smile grew pained at that, but she nodded warmly enough, and then Malek shuddered, eyes opening wide.

  “He's coming.”

  Agda's gaze grew instantly concerned. “Who's coming, Malek? Are we in danger?”

  Echobart's gaze turned instantly hard. That of a battle commander in truth. “Report, Malek!”

  Malek's dazed expression turned into an almost apologetic smile. “No. Nothing like that. It's... it's Morlekai. And he's bringing someone very special with him.” He chuckled ruefully. “Frankly, I'm surprised he was able to sneak her in, but perhaps it's for the best.”

  Agda gazed at Malek with poorly concealed hope, her hand suddenly squeezing his own. “Malek?”

  So much said with those words.

  Malek smiled, slowly opening the door, gazing into the eyes of his friend.

  And there he was. Standing there before the door, his hand raised to knock, a woman dressed in the full hooded cloak of a healer hovering tentatively just behind him.

  Morlekai. Dressed in form-fitting silks that hugged his body so gracefully, the cut of his sleek physique hid from no one. Even the fine mesh of his mail shirt Jess could make out underneath his doublet dyed an elegant shade of seafoam, his boots of the finest leather, well-polished, black as deepest night, his calfskin gloves of ivory hue, and Jess had no doubt they were lined with mail, much as were her own. His sword belt completed the ensemble, and for all that he looked so much like the most elegant and deadly of courtiers, there was no mistaking the terrible aura of the falchion that he wore, its secrets bare to Jess. The ether howled faintly in remembrance of the endless lives taken by that blade in unholy arenas and battlefields both. It was a weapon meant for fierce chops and killing cleaves, a blow from such a weapon could easily snap shoulder blade beneath mail if hitting dead on, and Jess had no doubt that in Morlekai's hands, infused with all the might of darkest dream, his falchion could flash about with the speed of the lightest fencing blades, and cleave with the force of a poleaxe.

 

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