The Goddess of Blood and Bone

by Nattie Kate Mason

  A peuchen guard slithered out onto the balcony behind Agnes, no doubt looking for stragglers that had yet to heed the horn’s summons.

  “Gettt a mooove on ssslavvve,” the peuchen hissed mind-to-mind.

  Agnes rolled her eyes.

  “I’m going, I’m going…” she moaned, begrudgingly leaving the relative peace of the balcony.

  “Hurrrry,” he hissed from behind her. “You mussst not keep the missstresss waiting.”

  Agnes shoved her hand in the air giving him a filthy gesture as she walked away. He was right though. If she didn’t get down to the hall soon, there would be consequences.

  As a human, Agnes had theorized that spirits could float or soar through the air. Free to roam wherever and however they saw fit. That may be true of those in The Afterworld—she had no way of knowing—but here in The Pitts of Moor, each fallen soul remained bound to the laws of gravity. As she descended the thousand steps one at a time, she relished the arduous journey that afforded her the opportunity to avoid the summons for just a little longer.

  With each step that drew Agnes closer to the Hall of Bone, she reminded herself there were worse ways to spend eternity than being one of Nushka’s servants. The Goddess could make her eternity truly unbearable if she so desired. She considered herself fortunate, to not yet have incurred Nushka’s wrath.

  ~

  Agnes entered the Hall of Bone through the servants’ side entrance and skirted along the wall, keeping to the shadows.

  “Get out of my way,” she hissed at a couple of souls fondling each other as she tried to make her way to the back of the room.

  “Fuck off whore,” one of the two males spat at her.

  Agnes jutted her chin as she pushed past the pair without sparing them a second glance.

  ‘Never let them see you squirm. That was the first lesson I learnt after arriving in The Pitts,’ Agnes recalled. ‘It only gives their words power.’

  The fallen Royal found these gatherings arduous. She spent most evenings trying to melt into the shadows to avoid drawing the attention of the Goddess or other foul creatures. After the formalities of the evening were over, she usually sought out some semblance of enjoyment from the buffet of fallen souls. Claiming some small slither of pleasure for herself in an otherwise undesirable existence.

  Agnes gazed around the room, on the lookout for a suitable male to ride until her needs were satisfied, or as close as they could be in this form. Just one of the ways she made the best of the situation…

  Agnes released an exasperated sigh, clenching her fists.

  “Bloody brilliant! Can this day get any worse?” she groaned. “I am not in the mood to share.”

  Coming up short, Agnes dejectedly resumed weaving her way through the room, aiming for the shelter of the shadows that lined the far wall. Her top lip curled as she dodged puddles of spilt wine and all manner of bodily fluids.

  On a typical night, The Hall of Bone—sometimes referred to as the great hall—was filled with the Goddess’s prized fallen souls. A small cohort of nightmarish creatures and on the odd occasion, representatives of the Goddess’s allies would also be in attendance.

  The Goddess was drawn to both male and female company. She did not declare her preference for one form over the other. Though she only collected attractive maidens into her permanent service.

  On occasion when Nushka craved variety, she would welcome a young, departed army general or highly gifted male into her chambers. It was not unheard of for the Queen of Moor to keep company with visiting guests or allies. In most instances, a handmaiden was also called upon to tend to the Goddess in tandem. The handmaiden tasked with pleasuring both Deity and guest alike. Sometimes the Goddess would summon a pair just so she could watch as they fornicated, drawing her own pleasure whilst she witnessed the carnal engagement. Nothing and no one was off limits in The Pitts. Allies was a murky word, however, for what they were. Neither side meant good will towards the other, but their mutual blackened hearts bound them together against their common enemy—the Rulers of the Gods—who strived to contain them.

  Agnes grimaced as she ran a translucent hand over the gauzy black fabric draped across her frame, leaving little to the imagination. The standard uniform of the Goddess’s handmaidens, a symbol of sorts to those around of whom she belonged to. There was no rule that stated a handmaiden could not engage in carnal relations with others, and Agnes often did. But it was an unspoken rule that they should remain discreet about it or else risk the Goddess’s wrath.

  Shadows danced over the bone walls from the many burning hearths. Agnes edged her way to the far corner of the hall, concealed mostly from view by a group of ghouls. A shiver trailed down her spine.

  Ghouls were unpredictable monsters. Their foul stench radiated off them in waves. Their kind were creatures of nightmares with a fondness for gorging on human souls. The ghouls were humanoid in shape, their frame gaunt, their skin and muscles translucent and rotting. Dark, soulless pits replaced eyes, their mouths a mess of jagged teeth. Agnes was begrudgingly grateful for her uniform, which made her off-limits to the more fearsome creatures before her.

  It was only whilst Agnes pondered the protective nature of her whisper of a gown, that she noted how strange it was for such a large cohort of creatures to be in attendance. The only time Agnes could recall such a large group was to mark the Goddess’s anniversary as Queen of The Pitts of Moor. Perhaps tonight was to be more treacherous than usual, for what other reason would the Goddess have to have summoned representatives from all her allies?

  “Our master will be here soon,” one of the ghouls cooed to his kin, his tone cold. Agnes felt her useless heart begin to race. “I can feel him…”

  “They are all here. All the key players of old,” another added.

  Agnes wrung her fingers as she tried desperately to overhear the remainder of the conversation, eager to learn whatever she could, but they walked away. Rather than risk earning their notice and wrath, she stayed where she was.

  Upon the dais of the Hall of Bone, the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s throne was positioned front and center. Its twin awaited her in the throne room. On either side of the throne, several smaller seats had been arranged. Agnes could not recall ever seeing the dais arranged as such. Pessimism and curiosity stirred within. For the Goddess to share her stage with anyone was inconceivable.

  A fellow handmaiden with a similar preference for hiding amongst the shadows approached her. The familiar black gauzy gown accentuated her voluptuous curves. The maiden flicked her curly locks as she often did when she was feeling particularly confident. It was not uncommon for handmaidens to gather in pairs. Safety in numbers.

  The handmaiden, Kayla, offered her a small smile as she approached, the gesture so at odds with their surroundings. There was a sense of goodness about the fellow handmaiden that didn’t belong in The Pitts. Though she knew it was likely an act that served her purposes. A mask just like the one Agnes wore. All souls were sent to The Pitts for a reason.

  After skulking around the group of ghouls, the other handmaiden came up to lean against the wall by her side.

  “Did you hear the news?” Kayla whispered in Agnes’s ear, acting like an old friend sharing a juicy piece of gossip.

  Agnes clenched her fists and bit her tongue, trying to suppress the urge to wring the girl’s neck. She was not in the mood for guessing games.

  “What?” Agnes asked blandly.

  Kayla ignored her lack of enthusiasm. “I heard it from Agatha. She was summoned earlier to entertain Nushka’s guests…”

  Agnes gulped. “Which guests?” She asked, her interest peaked.

  “What is it worth to you?” Kayla asked shamelessly.

  “Of course, there’s a fucking catch,” she muttered.

  The other handmaiden quirked her eyebrow, a small smirk drawing across her face. “Come on, Agnes, nothing is free in this place,” she drawled.

  “Isn’t that the truth.” Agnes rolled her eyes. B
efore she could consider the implications of her offer, she blurted: “I’ll offer to tend to Nushka tonight… It’ll guarantee you a night off.”

  A sigh of relief escaped Kayla’s lips. “Deal,” she agreed. “Well… Ilbis is here, Hyacinth too. All the leaders of Nushka’s allied beasts and beings. There is talk of a rebellion against the Gods, Agatha heard it straight from Ilbis himself. Can you believe it?!” she exclaimed.

  “Holy fuck,” Agnes breathed.

  “I know…” Kayla sighed. “Anyway, best be off, take care of yourself. Make sure you hold up your end of the bargain,” she warned.

  Agnes frowned as she returned to surveying the room. Kayla disappeared, likely off to find another handmaiden to trade the information with while it was still news.

  All around Agnes, exotic creatures and immortal beings of myth and legend made themselves at home amongst the castle’s usual spirits, the chosen ones. The potent smell of urine and wine was so strong that it almost made the handmaiden gag. If she were human, her stomach’s contents would have already decorated the already dirty slate floor, adding to the revolting mess of all manner of fluids.

  Nearby, a young chimera with talon-tipped wings tucked in tight plowed his mate irreverently in the shadows. The beast, so fixated on his task, was unfazed by the pool of wine that spread at his clawed feet as the surrounding spirits indulged on wine that they could taste but not absorb. The strong blood-red liquid they swigged fell right through them, sloshing in a pool upon the slate floor.

  Bored, Agnes watched the evening’s excessive revelries continue while she contemplated the news she had heard.

  A pleasure palace was what the hall would become after the formalities were over with… had already become for more than a few, she noted. The scent of need and want flooded the stifling air, even rivaling the smell of the floors. A pleasure hall she had hoped to revel in if a suitable male could be found. Her unsated need rising within was making her irritable. Cursing, she rubbed her thighs together to try and take the edge off the tension building within.

  “Fucking hell, what I’d give for a man beneath me,” she muttered to herself.

  A nearby fallen soldier turned at her statement, his eyes raked greedily over her body.

  “I would be happy to oblige,” he cooed. “But I rather like my balls where they are. And I’m sure Nushka would have them cut off she caught me tangled up with you.”

  “Get lost prick!” Agnes spat back. “I don’t belong to her.”

  The soul huffed a low laugh. “Keep telling yourself that Princess,” he chuckled as he turned from her and disappeared amongst the crowd.

  “Arsehole,” Agnes yelled after him, repeatedly clenching and relaxing her fists.

  The sex was a balm in her spirit form, but it was enough to sustain her. It grounded her, reminding her that even in Moor, not all was lost. Even if the setting was akin to fucking in a dirty ally.

  The horns sounded again, sending a resounding echo throughout the hall. The crowded room of spirits and legendary beings fell silent as the atmosphere in the room changed. Those few living immortals in attendance held their breath as Nushka, the Goddess of Blood and Bone, made her entrance upon her pet Zeri. The bhoot had chosen to present themselves in the form of a mighty cerberus this evening.

  Each of the bhoot’s three ferocious heads snapped and snarled their jagged teeth. Long, razor-sharp claws scraped across the stone floor as the creature with muddy brown fur proudly carried its master, padding its way towards the centre of the dais.

  The Goddess was dressed in a gown of midnight-coloured silk that draped over her frame like a curtain of night. She slid down her pet’s side with a fluid grace that could only be achieved by a long-lived Deity. Nushka, to Agnes’s surprise, patted each of Zeri’s heads with such tenderness, careful not to sink her own sharp claws into the beast’s coat, before perching herself upon the throne of bone. The affection she displayed towards the bhoot was likely the only warmth the otherwise black-hearted Deity ever showed towards anyone or anything.

  The Goddess’s dark power, no longer leashed, oozed off her thin frame like a second skin, draping the surrounding floor in a cloud of darkness. Her hair shone like liquid night, swaying gently down to her hips like a living thing. Nushka’s icy emerald gaze momentarily found Agnes before returning her attention to the gathered guests… as if they were only now worthy of her acknowledgment. Her painted claws and fangs remained fully extended.

  Agnes found the Deity’s ability to always know her whereabouts unnerving. Even hidden amongst the packed hall of guests, Nushka had known exactly where to find her. Agnes’s breathing quickened. No matter where she was, or what she was doing, the Goddess somehow always knew.

  The atmosphere in the hall changed, and despite the volcanic plains surrounding the castle of bone, the temperature seemed to drop as the Goddess and her entourage made their elaborate entrance. Never had Agnes witnessed such a procession.

  To Agnes’s surprise, Kayla slipped behind the group of ghouls and joined her in the shadows to watch the pageantry.

  “How many handmaidens sold their souls for your gossip?” Agnes teased under her breath.

  “Ha! Enough to make it worth my time,” Kayla boasted in hushed tones, whilst playing with one of her curly brown tresses.

  Agnes quirked a small smile.

  “How entrepreneurial of you,” Agnes scoffed.

  Kayla elbowed her playfully in the side. Agnes suppressed a laugh, keeping her eyes upon the dais.

  “All hail the Queen of Moor,” Eshu, the mediator between the mortal and immortal realms announced during the handmaiden’s attention.

  The hall’s inhabitants bowed in reverence.

  “All hail the Queen,” Agnes and the crowd echoed in a rare moment of civility. Agnes and Kayla dropped into reverent curtsies.

  “Presenting His Majesty, the Peuchen King, Xanos,” Eshu proclaimed.

  “All hail Xanos,” the crowd echoed.

  Xanos hissed in acknowledgment. Too big to fit upon the dais, he slithered in through the side entrance and took his place towering over the audience by one of the bone walls. The peuchen, an ancient dragon race, were created by the Dark Goddess and Medusa, the immortal Gorgon herself. The first dragons. The telepathic species with a predilection for human blood, traversed between the mortal and immortal realms. Paralysis awaits those stupid enough to dare look them in the eye. Their kind were also capable of breathing fire, their saliva venomous.

  “The stories say,” Kayla whispered eagerly, “that Medusa herself, the Peuchen’s part creator, was banished from Moor by Nushka. Banished but not killed. Perhaps she could not bear to rid the universe of a creature so magnificently wicked. A kindred spirit. A former lover perhaps?” She chuckled.

  Agnes smothered a laugh in response.

  “Shhh Kayla! You’ll get us into trouble,” Agnes reprimanded her.

  “Ha! As if we aren’t perpetually fucked anyway,” Kayla mocked. “Lighten up Agnes, she can’t hear us from all the way back here.”

  “She has ears everywhere,” Agnes cautioned, taking an unsubtle step away from her fellow handmaiden. Souls were erased from eternity for spreading far less scandalous gossip…

  The Peuchen King tucked in his wings protectively, his onyx scales shining in the firelight. His muscled body was akin to an anaconda. He bore deep crimson colored wings and vibrant green eyes. The majority of Nushka’s creations and allies possessed green, glowing eyes. A sign of unholiness. A sign of Nushka’s favor. With his wide mouth, sharp fangs, and a long-forked tongue permanently stained red with the blood of its victims, Xanos hissed at anyone who dared glimpse in his direction. None dared to look it in the eyes, fully aware of their fate if they did. For even souls long deceased would meet the same fate as the living.

  “Presenting Mandigon, of the edimmu clan,” Eshu announced as the procession continued.

  “All hail Mandigon,” the crowd declared. Their volume and enthusiasm waning.

/>   “All hail Mandigon,” Kayla whined.

  Agnes glared at her in reproach and Kayla merely rolled her eyes and smiled sweetly.

  “You need to relax Agnes, or you’ll grow wrinkles,” she joked and at that Agnes couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’ll relax when Moor freezes over,” Agnes replied dryly.

  Mandigon, leader of the edimmu clan, took his place at the Goddess’s left. The leader of his species resembled an emaciated human form, with cerulean tinged skin and flaming red eyes. The edimmu species resided in Moor, but gained their strength from breathing in the spirit and life force of humans in the mortal realm. Their method of feeding was akin to the ghouls.

  “He’s looking a little blue. Don’t you think?” Kayla joked.

  “Ha!” Agnes laughed out loud, caught by surprise at Kayla’s boldness.

  “Shhh Agnes! Some of us are trying to concentrate on tonight’s event,” Kayla sassily remarked.

  Agnes pursed her lips and turned her focus upon the next guest entering the hall.

  “Presenting Hyacinth, High Witch of the wendigast,” Eshu continued.

  “All hail Hyacinth,” the crowd, especially the male members, chanted with more gusto.

  “Greetings, peasants,” the High Witch mocked as she made her entrance.

  The ghouls around the handmaidens hissed at the insult, but refrained from rebelling any further. Agnes and Kayla gave each other a knowing look.

  Hyacinth, the inspiration behind Agnes’s plan for vengeance, took her seat to the Goddess’s right. The long-limbed, gangly creature with cobwebs for hair, who was part witch, part tree-spirit, towered over the Goddess at her side. Her gown of plated bark was the traditional attire of her coven. The history books say that the bark gowns were designed to help ground the magically gifted race to nature. The witches were capable of not only elemental magic, but of using nature to brew potent magical herbal potions and remedies.

  “That ridiculous gown makes the woman look more like a tree stump than a witch,” Kayla snickered.

  Agnes bit her lip to suppress a laugh, but nodded barely perceptively in agreement. Kayla smiled smugly at her side.