“A spell gone wrong and you now have a swollen belly,” said Natosha with contempt. “What a pity.”
Saris realized she was now in the same situation as her twin, only the father of her child was not the enemy. Her hands clutched her stomach, which continued extending further.
“Save your pity for someone who needs it,” she growled. “I am done with you.”
She turned and ran out the door, leaving it open behind her. Her slippers masked the sound of her running feet as she hurried through the tunnels. She wanted to go back to her room—to go through the slit in the wall and fall into the arms of the God of Evil. Yet, she couldn’t seem to make her feet go back that way. Try as she might, they led her deep down into the bowels of the mountain instead of her bedchambers. She went deeper and deeper, wondering where her legs were taking her. She slipped around a corner and came into a gigantic cavern located well beneath the mountain. Wall sconces were strategically placed at even intervals along the walls, kept lit with dark magic that turned the flames an eerie reddish-orange. At the far end, where the lowest point in the room was, there was a large pool of greenish-blue water. Her feet stumbled towards this until she was wading waist-deep in it.
Her stomach was now distended quite grotesquely, and something inside it was moving. Only one night with Eerich, and she was with child. But wait…had he not said something about giving her everything she wanted? Beauty everlasting, stronger magic…and children to bear? That last thought struck a chord. She’d spent that one night with him and sealed a pact to get what she wanted…but what if part of that pact was bearing him a child right away? Had Eerich impregnated her on purpose? Something about that seemed to add up and despite the warmness of the water, she got chills.
She felt an intense pressure forcing its way down inside her, and frowned. This wasn’t right. She’d never had a pregnancy in this short of an amount of time. As the being within her moved again, she caught a glimpse of the movement within her belly. Her breath caught. Whatever was inside her was not human.
Saris screamed as the creature began to make its way out. Nothing about the agony was even remotely normal. What in the name of the Dark Moon had Eerich done to her?
Her baby moved swiftly, and she shrieked loudly as it began to exit her body. She pushed with all of her might, feeling it squirming as it tried to get out. What felt like a tentacle snaked out of her womanhood and latched on to the side of her leg; it seemed to suction itself there to help pull the rest of the body out. After several more hysterical screams the creature wriggled out, entering the bloodied water.
She stared in horror at the abomination and retreated out of the water. She collapsed in a heap just outside of the pool, in her soaking wet dress that was now stained with blood. Saris watched the heathen creature swimming in the pool, and began to cry.
From the shadows of the doorway across the room, Natosha watched her sister with eyes as cold as a winter night.
Eerich was infuriated to a level he had not reached in quite some time. First his beloved Hound was slain, and now roamed the halls of the Underworld in desolation. Then Saris’ soldiers were defeated, which took out more than half of the people she had fighting for their side. And he could not forget that the Dead Queen had yelled someone’s name that he had not heard in a long, long time.
Firayis. Damn him, he’d come out of hiding like the rat that he was! Eerich’s mouth turned down as he stormed about his bedchambers in a rage. He’d felt Chin’s presence—or thought he had—which was why he’d been drawn to the Lystians’ camp. He knew not where she was or where she disappeared to, but for hundreds of years he’d tried to track her down as soon as he’d sensed her. To know that Firayis was now out of hiding only confirmed that she had been close. What he wouldn’t give to trap Firayis and kill him…
He stopped and glowered up at the masks hanging above his fireplace, focusing on the empty spot in the middle. He would fill that vacancy soon enough.
“I hope you’re contemplating your next move.”
Eerich twisted around and felt his boiling blood turn cold. “Of course,” he said hoarsely. “I am always ruminating on the next step.”
The tall figure moved forward from the shadows, his long green and blue robe dragging on the floor behind him. “The game you are playing is treacherous, Eerich.” The smell of seaweed became strong in the room.
Eerich swallowed. “I play no games.”
The tall man paced by him slowly, scrutinizing the God of the Dead as though he were an impotent child. “You have made choices that seem to me to be rather brazen and rash. Have I taught you nothing?”
He did not answer, and the man continued.
“You should have killed that army off weeks ago. You are getting distracted and weak. Gods are meant to be all-powerful beings, supreme above all other creatures.”
“I-I have a plan,” Eerich stammered.
The man chuckled darkly. “You call fathering a water demon a plan?”
“The water demon will protect the entrance at all times. Something you should be grateful for, I would think.”
The man ambled over to where Eerich stood and looked down at him with black eyes. He was so close that his long, tangled greenish-gray beard brushed against Eerich’s. “The stars have foretold a shadow of the events that are unfolding. We must make sure that the army does not reach this mountain. If it does, and if they infiltrate all of the nooks and crannies within, I will wear your skin as a coat. Can I make myself any clearer?”
Eerich shook his head. “I understand perfectly.”
“Good.” The man nodded. He stared at the figures dancing in the flames, knowing that Eerich had put them there because their eternal suffering was like a moving decoration to the God of the Dead.
“They will not make it here,” Eerich said. “I give you my word. And if they do, I will make sure my little water demon keeps them at bay.”
The God of the Sea turned his black eyes upon Eerich once more. “I hope you are true to that statement.”
“I will be.”
Hasofite grinned maliciously. “Then so begins the war of the gods.”
About the Author
Sherri Beth Mitchell was born in Virginia and raised in a small town in Western North Carolina. She began writing at the ripe age of six, when she discovered she thoroughly enjoyed creating tales. After being published in several poetic anthologies, she chose to start writing short stories, which slowly became full-length books.
War Against the Realm Page 31