Goddess Rising

by Alisha Ashton

  Skye snarled furiously at that, baring her fangs as her eyes flared to yellow. Her only option now, was to fight her way through. She curled in on herself, crouching down to the ground as she prepared to attack. This was highly unlikely to result in Teàrlach’s death, but it was sure to catch him off guard and put him in a world of hurt. She could not afford to use all of her power – she would still need to sustain herself for the long battle ahead. She drew all the magic she dared to part with into her core, shaped it and directed it. With a battle cry, she stood and thrust her hands forward, allowing the orb of light to pass between them. It expanded as it raced toward its intended target.

  The twisted creatures shrieked in terror and pain as her magic tore through them, killing more than a hundred instantly, wounding many more. Teàrlach put up a wall of power in front of himself in an attempt to block her blow, but the effort was neither fast nor strong enough. Skye’s magic connected with a harsh, violent concussion.

  Teàrlach’s anguished screams were music to Skye’s ears. She watched in amazement as the barrier overhead flickered. Teàrlach stumbled back, frantically shouting orders to his beasts. They swiftly moved to block Skye, standing atop their fallen brethren to shield Teàrlach from further harm.

  Then, the barrier fell. Skye’s heart leapt into her throat as she thought for a moment that it was almost over. She watched in disappointment, however, as the barrier came back up again a second later.

  Then she realized… Teàrlach had lost ground.

  A lot of ground.

  Thousands of his creatures suddenly found themselves beyond the protection of their master’s boundary. And it was precisely the opportunity her King had been waiting for.

  Taran’s murderous gaze swept out across the rocky field. “KILL THEM ALL!” he bellowed before transforming with the rest of their clansmen.

  The faoil sprang into action, their collective roars and footfalls shaking the ground as they charged for their prey.

  “Not so fucking ‘useless’ now, are they, bitch?!” Skye shouted triumphantly at Teàrlach over the cacophony of the erupting battle. Alas, any further celebration would have to wait. She exhaled and rolled her shoulders. There were still nearly a thousand creatures within the barrier, all standing between her and Teàrlach. She raised her sword as the next wave of them rushed towards her.

  38: Dance with the Devil

  Time slipped away unnoticed in the seemingly never-ending heat of battle. Skye’s body received countless minor gashes and tears, but nothing too severe. She used what remained of her magic like an IV drip to sustain her, keeping her energy up and healing each minor wound she received.

  But she was tiring. And the damage was slowly accumulating in her armor, leaving it weakened in places. And all it took was a single misstep amongst thousands of perfect ones to spell disaster.

  Skye gasped in shock as talons raked across her abdomen in rapid succession. The leading claw caught hold of a small opening in the seam of her armor, and using that miniscule entry point, sliced through the thick, protective panel. The claws that followed each tore across her stomach with lethal intent. She managed to drive her sword through the creature’s head and pull it free before stumbling backward, but she was instantly aware that her other hand, pressed instinctively against her midsection, was clutching a disturbing amount of wet warmth.

  Smelling her blood, sensing her weakness, the creatures became frenzied. They came at her from all sides at once and the world slowed to a crawl in her perception. She could not defend and heal herself. She could not heal herself and use her magic to shield herself. Gasping through the agony of being all-but disemboweled, she did the only thing her magic could come up with. As she collapsed to her knees, an orb of white light erupted from and expanded around her, driving the creatures back 10 feet in all directions.

  Desperate to reach her, they screeched and slammed themselves against her pitiful attempt at a barrier. She barely paid them any mind. All the sounds around her blurred together into a dull rumble as she struggled to hold her innards in place.

  I’m finished, she thought in a frightened whisper. She frowned sorrowfully, exhaling and looking up at the sky. I can’t die like this, she told herself. Not now. Not here. Not when I am so close to home. I have come too far to fail now!

  Breathing was terribly difficult. Not only was it excruciating, but she had to take great care to keep her abdominal muscles as still as possible. Cautiously, she was able to draw a wisp of magic away from her efforts to hold up her shield. It was barely more than a thread, but she immediately put it to the task of healing herself. After a moment, she gauged her progress and whimpered. At this rate, it would take her a week to close her wounds. Her shield would last an hour at most. She could not see her King or clansmen from her current vantage point. The only possible avenue for any kind of exit or rescue was from… above.

  Her eyes widened as she considered it.

  She knew the repercussions of this decision would be dire, but she had no other choice. If she did nothing, she would die. She shook her head as she resigned herself to it.

  Closing her eyes, she called out to him.

  Brandubh… You said you would always hear my call and… I am dying. I will die very soon, if I am lucky. If not, Teàrlach will cut me open again to steal my power. She sent memories of being tortured by Teàrlach, of receiving her current dire wounds, and images of the monsters that surrounded her. Please, I know you can feel me. I do not know how long I can hold them back. You do not remember, but you and I trusted one another once. She shared the image from her dream realm of them standing together in the forest.

  A moment passed.

  Skye stifled a sob, disheartened by the silence in her mind.

  Can you hear me? she called, her inner voice betraying her tears and desperation.

  Hopelessness crept in like shadows.

  She gazed up at the horrid, hungry mouths snapping at her from all sides. Then, she felt a rush through the link, like feathers in a breeze.

  Oh… I can hear ya, Brandubh answered in a breathy voice that caused every hair on her body to stand on end. He went on in a rush, flooding her mind with his rapid thoughts and emotions. I can feel ya and… mmm, taste ya, sweet one. Tha air you’re breathin is pure thick with your blood. Good thing I’m nah feelin’ peckish. Just hold tight for me. Bringin’ a bit of company along for the fun – hope ya don’t mind. Any chance ya might call off your dogs before we arrive? Before Skye had a chance to even think of a reply, he went on. Eh, well. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Ta! Smooches! See ya soon, youngblood!

  The link went silent again.

  It was at that precise moment that Skye finally recognized what was different between the Brandubh of the past versus the beast he was now. It was plain in the edge in his voice. The void in his soul. How changeable and – frankly – odd he was. How he seemed like a different person each time she spoke with him – over the phone, in his dream realm, and now, through their link. Sometimes his mood, mannerisms, accent, and personality seemed to shift from one sentence to the next.

  Brandubh… was insane. He had been literally driven mad by four millennia under the influence of Sorcha’s curses and the Droch-draoidh’s spells. He was utterly, unpredictably, homicidally, certifiably, nuttier-than-squirrel-shit, fucking ‘coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs’ insane. And Skye had just broken the most basic rule of all.

  She had invited him in.

  Taran was in the thick of battle when he caught the scent. It was subtle at first. Had it not been so deeply engrained in Taran’s psyche as heralding danger and death, he would have missed it entirely among all the other bloody scents. A chill ran through him – the sense memory of death. He immediately went on alert, frantically dispatching the creature he was fighting while growling and grunting at his brethren to keep an eye out for attacks from above.

  Brandubh and a small army of fògaraich landed a short distance away with such speed and force, it sent a concussive ring outward,
knocking everyone – creature and faoil alike – to the ground. Brandubh stood slowly, gracefully, his eyes carefully scanning the chaos around him. Sighing in distaste at what he found, he sucked his teeth before flicking his hand.

  Taran watched in disbelief as every one of Teàrlach’s creatures in the surrounding area was abruptly lifted from the ground and hurled somewhere off into the distance. All that remained in the immediate vicinity, aside from Brandubh and his followers, were faoil. Taran snarled an order. He and the others crouched down, preparing to lunge for the father of the forsaken as one. Brandubh simply held up a hand and gave them a bored look. The faoil suddenly found themselves unable to move a muscle.

  Brandubh rolled his eyes, sighing as he approached. “As much as I would enjoy tearing each of you apart and devouring every last meaty morsel from your bones…” He paused to look at them menacingly as he added in a gravelly voice, “And truly, I would.” Taking a deep breath as if to reign himself in, he set out again. In a far more pleasant tone, he advised, “I’m afraid we have more pressing matters this day.”

  At the center of the largest grouping of faoil, close enough to make it clear that he was not the least bit intimidated by their massive forms, he stopped. With his head dipped forward predatorially and madness dancing in his gaze, he scanned them from beneath his brows. “Which of you beasts is King?”

  Taran shifted back to human form, relieved to find that he could control at least that much. “Tha would be me,” he answered, glaring furiously.

  Brandubh’s brow arched so high it nearly touched his hairline as he slowly spun toward the familiar voice. He stood up straight, shifting his weight from one foot to the other before taking a few steps toward Taran. His head twitched from side to side spasmodically as a low trilling sound of escaped his throat.

  “You?” Brandubh breathed as his face twisted in confusion. The corner of his mouth slowly began to lift in a hint of a smile. “Did I nah already turn ya into my personal snack-pack once?”

  Taran cursed crudely under his breath at the gall of this bastard. He took a single, irate step toward his recent murderer before Brandubh’s power tightened its hold and brought him to an abrupt halt.

  Brandubh smiled dangerously. He tilted his head as he held up his long, slender finger, ticking it from side to side. “Ah, ah, ah. Temper, my pet,” he whispered chidingly. He moved closer to Taran, breathing in his scent and studying his nude, sweat-and-blood-streaked form approvingly. “Ooh, it’s you, all right. I’d ne’er forget a meal so grand. Wait, hold on…” He held up a hand and closed his eyes.

  Taran practically radiated violent intent.

  “Mmm, just had to relive the moment,” Brandubh purred. A thoroughly pleased smile spread across his plump lips as he reminisced. He opened his heavy-lidded eyes and grinned, licking his fingertips and running them over his lips as if still savoring the taste. “I must say, once I had my mouth on ya, I fully understood why she kept ya around. Ya were positively scrumptious. I’ve nah the pleasure of a Picti in ages. Ya just so happen to be a delicacy tha’s extremely hard to come by… though nah at all hard to cum to,” he joked with a wicked grin. “I was so sad when it was over. Taking tha last, long gulp…” he recalled dreamily and teased, “I hope it was as good for ya as it was for me.”

  Snapping out of his reverie, his eyes flashed with renewed interest. He clapped his hands before holding them out toward Taran dramatically. “But hey, have a look at ya now! All revived, refueled, and lookin every bit the snack again!” He frowned as his eyes narrowed on Taran’s face appraisingly. “Eh… I do miss the hair, though. Made for a simply lovely handle.” He held his hand up in front of him, acting out the way he had gripped Taran’s hair as he fed.

  Taran glowered but could do nothing more. Through gritted teeth, he demanded, “If ya’ve nah come to fight, what do ya want?”

  “Ah. Yes,” Brandubh said, blinking as his smile faded. “Well, I am here at the behest of your Queen. She called on me herself, as it turns out.” He winked as he recalled, “I told ya she’d warm to me.”

  “She would ne’er…” Taran growled.

  “Really?” Brandubh challenged. With alarming speed, he brought his face within inches of Taran’s and gazed into his eyes intensely, passing to him the visions Skye had shared of her current predicament. Her wounds and weakness. Her suffering. The countless jaws snapping at her, fighting furiously against her barrier in their attempts to reach her.

  Taran gasped, his eyes widening in panic.

  “See tha? Callin’ on me now was a damned good idea on her part, wouldn’t ya say?” Brandubh whispered threateningly and tapped the end of Taran’s nose.

  Taran fought against the magic holding him in place.

  Brandubh ignored his efforts. He backed away and stretched out his arms and wings, displaying himself as he declared, “Clever girl’s gone and brought her very own monster to the party, now hasn’t she? Oh, clever, tha youngblood. Cleverer than the whole lot of ya. Nah a single one of ya slobberin’ mutts would’ve thought to call upon me to help her – even though it’s common knowledge I’d’ve taken any excuse to slaughter Droch-draoidh.”

  Taran continued fighting against the power in vain.

  Brandubh huffed in irritation as he lowered his arms. “Now, now. Settle down there, snack-pack,” he chided.

  “Skye needs us!” Taran shouted furiously.

  “True,” Brandubh granted, “but we’ve nah yet reached an agreement on how to proceed.”

  “We do nah have time for this!” Taran snarled.

  Brandubh squinted for a moment, then nodded. “We do. We still have a bit. She can last at least another half hour as she is.”

  Taran stilled in realization. His brow furrowed and features twisted with emotion. He fought back his rage and fear long enough to ask in a strained voice, “Ya can… speak with her?”

  “I can,” Brandubh confirmed. He quickly held up a finger and curled his lip. “I draw the line at passing along useless messages of love in the midst of a warzone, however, so ya can stop right there.”

  Taran gritted his teeth.

  Brandubh clapped his hands together. “Right, well, here’s where we stand. We’ve got ourselves a classic ‘the enemy of my enemy is my grudging ally’ situation. I can get past the barrier to aid Skye, but I can nah carry her back out with me. Leaves me with no choice other than to fight my way through the horde in there, and then deal with Teàrlach, the ol’ monstrous, two-faced bastard.” Brandubh scowled before asking, “With me so far?”

  Taran had to fight down his instinct to refuse whatever Brandubh was going to suggest outright. Reluctantly, he nodded that he was listening.

  “Good boy,” Brandubh praised. “Now, I’m fairly sure I can pull it off, bbuuutt there’s no guarantee Teàrlach’s nah got any more tricks up his sleeve. Considering how he had his freaks planted out there in the ground ready to spring up like a fresh crop of undead daisies, I do nah know what to expect. Nah to say I am incapable of handling it. As ya may well recall, I am nah without my own tricks. However, since I will have my attention divided between fighting and keeping a certain tasty, young Goddess alive, I would prefer to have – oh, say – a snappy, snarly army as backup just in case things go poorly.”

  Brandubh turned and pointed toward the group of fògaraich standing stone-still a short distance away. They seemed to be his personal guard. All were nearly as tall and slender as Brandubh. All were dressed in gleaming white armor and full helmets that covered their faces. They stood at attention, awaiting instruction.

  “My servants there can help to weaken the barrier so we can eventually get the whole lot of ya through,” Brandubh said.

  Taran and the other faoil exchanged surprised looks at that.

  “It will nah be instantaneous,” Brandubh cautioned. “I do nah know how long it will take – it will depend greatly upon just how severely she has managed to wound Teàrlach. My servants will have to focus on their task, and they will be
vulnerable as they work. They will require your clan’s protection the entire time. They will be completely at your mercy, but they are willing to take the risk of trusting ya in order to aid Skye. And this is where our agreement comes in…” He held out his hand to Taran, studying his eyes intensely. With a cheeky smile he asked, “What d’ya say? For the sake of the fair Sgitheanach’s life, can ya stomach an alliance with the devil for just this day?”

  Taran scowled in disgust but managed to step forward and grip Brandubh’s hand tightly to signify the temporary truce. He gave a mighty pull forward after a second, bringing Brandubh close enough to threaten properly. “Just this day. If I see ya tomorrow, I’ll tear your throat out,” Taran warned as he bared teeth.

  “Ooh, ya big, barbarous brute, don’t threaten me with a good time,” Brandubh flirted, casting a purposeful, intrigued glance down between them at Taran’s nude body.