The Goddess of Blood and Bone

by Nattie Kate Mason

  Around the Goddess, to her fascination and utter pleasure, she noticed the felled bodies extended in all directions in a radius of at least twenty feet away. The bodies of her enemies oozed dark blood from every orifice. The pupils of their sightless eyes lay open permanently, dilated in fear. Her dark shadows had been busy, it seemed.

  The Goddess gazed at the carnage taking place. Barely a dent had been made in her army’s numbers, with the unfortunate exception of the wendigast. The fighting had now spread out to the surrounding balconies and the sky beyond, their numbers too great to squeeze within the hall.

  Nushka looked back to where she had last remembered seeing the Rulers of the Gods cowering behind a column, but they were gone. How long had it been since she had seen them? Or Agnes, for that matter? Not that her handmaiden’s whereabouts mattered all that much. The brat had likely fled the room with the Deities at the beginning of the battle like a spineless coward. But the King and Queen… She needed to find them and hold them accountable for their actions. The Goddess of Blood and Bone had a debt to settle.

  25

  Agnes

  One moment Agnes was following Thorn and Chiara into the banquet hall, and the next was utter chaos. The plan to imbue the Deities with the tainted wine had gone off without a hitch. Everyone who had tasted the nectar had quickly found themselves powerless after Nushka activated the potion.

  As soon as the handmaiden had heard the Goddess of Blood and Bone’s chants, she began making her way towards the exit. Agnes was not one to fear or turn away from facing the consequences of her actions, but she maintained a healthy level of desire for self-preservation.

  Then it happened. The first strike upon the Rulers.

  Thanks to a direct assault to the chest with Nushka’s shadow magic, Archè slammed against a column beside Agnes. The King of the Gods roared in pain, making furious eye contact with Agnes as he slumped to the ground. Before he could order her to be seized, Agnes burst into an all-out sprint for the stairs. She had planned her escape in the dark dungeon cell of Moor, had memorized the layout of the castle in the sky for this very moment. Right now, she couldn’t have been more grateful for her brief time in possession of the Orb of Historia.

  Several Deities looked upon her quizzically as she weaved hastily between them, heading for the exit. One God tried to seize her by her red silk gown, but only air raked his fingers as Agnes lunged to the side just in time to escape his grasp.

  A blazing crack of thunder sounded, and a radiating light illuminated the hall as Archè opened a portal beside where he lay. Agnes couldn’t help herself as she paused briefly to turn around and re-assess the situation.

  Creating the portal had been the King of the God’s dramatic final stand. The God’s powers were completely drained now. The Deities, whose powerful, light-filled auras previously radiated from them, were now dimmed, making them appear strangely human. Many looked around in disbelief, unable to comprehend such a loss. Others clung to their chests as if their souls had been torn away, and they were incapable of living without that spark of power. Others were furious—rightly so—begging their loved ones to flee as they turned to face the threats of the Goddess of Darkness and the Goddess of Blood and Bone.

  Past the gaping, wide-eyed Deities, through the portal, began streaming a seemingly endless line of the King’s guards: the pterocentaurs.

  ‘I have to get out of here now!’

  One of the winged guards briefly peered in her direction, but now hidden amongst the muted Deities, Agnes no longer stood out from the crowd or drew their attention. His gaze soon moved on, and he too began approaching the dais like the rest of his herd.

  A second portal, one of darkness and intolerable heat, opened into the banquet hall. Smoke billowed as Nushka’s army made their terrifying grand entrance, unleashing nightmares upon the unsuspecting Deities. Agnes watched on as Nushka’s wicked army met the pterocentaur guard.

  The violence and mayhem that ensued rivaled what she had witnessed in The Pitts, except this time it was the innocent that would pay the price. Immortals rendered powerless and incapable of defending themselves, were about to be caught in the middle of a battle that many would not walk away from. Their only crime had been following Rulers who only cared for the elite.

  Agnes resumed her sprint, only a dozen strides separating her from the staircase that would lead her to safety. She desperately needed somewhere to hide and wait out the rest of the devastating battle. After Nushka, Lilith, and their dark army had defeated the enemy, she would return and face the mess that she had helped create.

  Agnes neared the top of the staircase just as vines ascended out of the ground and dropped from the ceiling in search of victims to ensnare, thanks to the powerful wendigast that descended upon the hall. Screams of agony ripped from the throats of ally and foe alike.

  Regardless of how well Nushka had planned the attack, there would always be casualties on both sides. Agnes pitied the witches who met their ends at the hands of the pterocentaur, just as she found herself pitying the immortals caught up in the fight.

  Agnes watched as a wendigast who was using her magic to heal a fellow injured witch, was shot with a flaming arrow that embedded in her chest through the plated bark gown. Her traditional garb erupted in a whir of fire and smoke. Agnes would never forget her piercing scream as the arrow met its mark, nor the way she continued shrieking as she burned to death.

  Agnes hurled her stomach’s contents on the floor.

  The long-lived witch’s end had been unnecessary. Even if Agnes hadn’t wielded the bow that shot the witch, she still felt as though she had played a role in bringing about her demise. She tried to rationalize to herself that a war would have occurred whether she helped drug the Deities or not. But it was no use. As she beheld creatures and immortals alike on both sides meeting their deaths, she couldn’t help but feel partially responsible.

  From the top of the staircase, Thorn stood guard, protecting all those that pushed past one another, ready to use their neighbor as a shield to ensure their own safety. The battle brought out the worst in the immortals. His magic whipped an impenetrable barrier of protection around those who drew within several stride lengths of the staircase. Sweat slid down Thorn’s brow at the effort of maintaining the protective shield.

  She ran to him. “Thorn, we need to get out of here,” she begged him.

  He seized her by the arm and drew her near. “Where do you think you’re going!” he growled, fury and contempt coating his every word.

  “To find somewhere safe to hide,” Agnes winced, pulling her arm free of his grasp.

  Thorn sneered at her in revulsion.

  “Typical!” he spat. “You were so quick to bring The Pitts down upon my people, but the moment your existence is at risk, you run and hide like a coward!”

  “I know I’m a coward,” she cried, tears welling in her eyes. “I am the worst kind of soul there is. This is all my fault and I want to run away, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to make this better! I can’t stop this!”

  Her body trembled, as anxiety consumed her.

  A pterocentaur slammed into one of Thorn’s wind barriers before falling lifeless to the floor, blood trickling from his nose. Cold, sightless eyes stared up towards the ceiling. Agnes flinched at the sight. The God of War stood there, beads of sweat trickling down his brow, muscled arms taut and his hands once more outstretched before him. The effort of maintaining the shields was taking all his focus and energy.

  “These are my people,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “Hating my parents and supporting my sisters does not mean I will stand by and watch innocents be murdered. I will have no part in that!”

  Agnes paused for a moment. He really was a good God, she realized. Thorn wanted to help his sisters, but he also couldn’t tolerate seeing defenseless people getting hurt. She felt unworthy of him. Guilt would haunt her after today, she knew that, and she knew that she deserved it. She felt like worthl
ess trash. No matter how much she wanted to change her life, death and destruction would always follow her.

  “I’m sorry Thorn. I’m sorry for all of it,” she vowed.

  Thorn turned back to her, each movement a struggle as he focused his efforts on protecting the retreating Deities.

  “I know,” he rasped. “And it’s not all your fault. I’m as much to blame for this as you.”

  Agnes’s eyes widened. Thorn flinched, his mouth grimacing, brow furrowed in concentration.

  “I… I care about you,” he promised.

  Agnes didn’t know what to say, her breathing hitched. She wrapped her arms around him even as his arms were outstretched, even as he shook from the strain of overexerting his powers.

  “And I for you…” she murmured. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

  The words out of her mouth sounded hollow, inadequate. But there were no other words to convey how grateful she was that he understood her, cared for her, and didn’t condemn her as she deserved.

  “Go.” He begged her in between heaving breaths. “Go hide. Then come back after all this is over and together, we’ll fix this mess.”

  “I will,” she promised, “I mean it.”

  Agnes stood on her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  “Don’t die on me!” she jeered him breaking the tension. He huffed a laugh but kept his focus on the task at hand.

  She pushed down the feeling of guilt that would only hold her back now. What was done was done. She would ruminate on her failings later. For now, she needed to get to safety so she could exist long enough to make up for all the pain she had caused. She descended the stairs and did not look back.

  ~

  Hiding was no longer an option. The castle had gone into lockdown, chaos spreading far and wide. Wherever Agnes ventured, hordes of terrified Deities had already sought shelter, so she embarked upon her next best option.

  It had taken Agnes longer than expected to reach the stables on the lower levels of the castle in the sky. Unfortunately, she was not the only one who had considered such an escape plan. Powerless Deities fought to untether the pegasi from their stalls. The mighty winged horses were twice the size of regular horses, their coats a variety of neutral colors. Their feathered wings tucked in protectively by their sides, as they arched to get away from the Gods and Goddesses that brawled for their reins. The fighting, both in the stables and in the levels above, startled many of the mythical beasts, causing them to rear. One of the stable hands had been trampled beneath a particularly skittish ebony beast and the Gods now gave it a wide birth.

  Agnes had grown up around horses. Her Royal family owned a large stable with an array of prized stallions and mares. Agnes had been riding since she was a toddler, and so she had developed significant skills in riding, having cared for them during her human life. If anyone could tame the jittery mount, it would be her.

  Many levels above, the battle grew louder. Screams pierced the air, and the castle shook as the two armies battled. The sound and vibration further incited panic in pegasus and Deity alike. Deities began jumping on any pegasus they could reach, stating their claim and hastily pulling their children and families onto the saddle in front of them. Fists were thrown and kicks landed as the immortals fought over the mighty winged beasts.

  Agnes slowly edged her way around the stall of the dark skittish creature. No one dared follow her, no matter how desperate they were to escape the war zone. The stallion fiercely pulled at its tethered reins, desperate to escape the chaos. The deceased body beneath it was pummeled further into the ground with each stomp of its hooves, turning the flesh into bloody ribbons.

  As Agnes edged her way into the creature’s line of sight, she raised her arms to placate the beast, making soothing sounds. The pegasus looked at her defiantly, but it soon ceased its stomping, though it continued whinnying, head thrashing against the tether that kept it contained. Agnes knew better than to untie a wild horse until it had fully calmed. There was a good chance that she would end up being his next stall mat if she did. But she needed to earn the beast’s trust quickly, fearful that Archè’s guards were searching for her. Laying low was not an option; chaos had descended too quickly and spread too far. There was nowhere safe to hide anymore.

  Without over-analyzing it, and before she lost her nerve, Agnes reached for the pole at the far end of the stall and untied the stallion’s tether. The creature’s reins fell free.

  The pegasus stilled before turning to her, eyes wide with rage, nostrils flaring. Its gaze burned through to her very soul and, whatever it beheld, the creature did not shy form. Perhaps it found a kindred spirit in Agnes. An angry, hate-filled, fearless beast seeking freedom, much like the handmaiden before him.

  Agnes bowed before the mythical creature and the pegasus huffed in recognition, lowering its head in permission for Agnes to climb upon its back. Ever so slowly, giving the pegasus a chance to reconsider, Agnes grabbed the nearby step ladder and approached the mount’s side. Slowly and gently, she grabbed the reins and threaded them over the creature’s bowed head. After positioning and ascending the step ladder, she grabbed the horn of the saddle and slid her left foot into the stirrup. She didn’t give herself a chance to reconsider as she heaved herself up and over the horse’s back. With the gate already open behind them, the pegasus stormed for the exit and into the chaos of the stables.

  A loud bray of warning ripped from the winged beast’s maw and the Deities blocking its escape quickly dove out of the way. Those already atop a pegasus urged their beasts onwards to the exit ramp.

  One by one, the pegasi galloped with all their might down the ramps and launched themselves into the open air, engaging their wings and flying away. Agnes’s mount grew tired of waiting and he pushed his way to the front of the queue. Sheer power had the pegasus roaring down the take-off ramp, faster and steadier than all before him. As he unfurled his ebony wings, catching an updraft, they launched into the air and Agnes’s heart plummeted into her stomach.

  Clouds billowed around them as the beast’s mighty wings flapped either side of Agnes, soaring fearlessly through the night sky. Its ebony coat blended with its surroundings. She held onto the reins as if her very existence depended on it, digging her knees into the creature’s sides, trying desperately to remain in the saddle. All around them pegasi and riders fled the castle in the sky in search of safety. Then the peuchen arrived.

  The peuchen had arrived on massive, deep-purple dragon wings, and they were itching for blood. The peuchen were a fearsome force in the Dark Goddess’s army, and right now their sights were set on the herd of pegasi and the riders trying to make their escape.

  The peuchen dwarfed even the pegasi. Their massive serpent-like bodies were akin to their basilisk cousins, defying gravity as their enormous, scaled wings carried them through the air. Their sharp fangs and forked tongues promised pain and death.

  It was then that Agnes realized the risks of flying amongst a herd of their enemy. Only now, as they attempted to flee the onslaught of the peuchen, did she really consider how thoroughly fucked she was now that the Deities looked like mere humans. To the peuchen, she was just another Goddess about to meet her end.

  “Oh, fuck! Dive, boy, dive!” Agnes coaxed the beast beneath her, urging him on with a hard kick of her heels, lashing at his reins.

  The mighty pegasus needed no encouragement. The wild-hearted beast sharply dove away from the pegasus herd, trying desperately to lose the peuchen now swarming towards them. As they zigzagged through the cloudy night sky, Agnes struggled to see their surroundings. The darkness made the escape even more treacherous; a fact which terrified Agnes. Thoughts of blindly crashing into another mythical beast, or worse, possibly colliding into a mountain or the ground far below came to the forefront of her mind.

  Higher up, flashes of fire billowed from the peuchens’ maws, the charred or severed remains of pegasus and rider alike dropping like unholy rain around them. Agnes’s mount dodged the falli
ng remnants with liquid grace, so different from the skittish beast she had met in the stables. In the skies, he was king.

  Down and down, they descended, her mount pushing itself to its very limits to create as much distance as possible between them and the peuchen. High above, the serpent dragons pursued their prey with such deadly efficiency, none stood a chance against them. Agnes’s heart plummeted in her chest at the speed and degree at which they made their descent, uncertain how she had not already fallen out of the saddle and to her doom.

  Searing agony fired through her as an arrow embedded in her chest. Agnes’s eyes flared in sudden shock as she screamed, the pain so overwhelming she dropped the pegasus’s reins and slipped off her fierce mount’s back. The wind clawed at her face, blinding her as she plummeted towards a sandstone structure. It all happened so fast her mount did not have time to react before he too was shot from the sky with another arrow.

  She knew the fall would not kill her, knew the arrow could not kill her. But the pain of her bones shattering into a million pieces once she landed would make the ache in her chest pale in comparison. Her vision blurred as she continued to fall until mighty hands of a creature caught her in its strong, muscular arms.

  Agnes heaved a shallow sigh of relief. Thorn had come for her. Despite everything, he had come for her. He did care for her. Her heart fluttered, and all she wanted to do was lose herself in his touch.

  She looked up, wanting to peer into his eyes and kiss him. But instead of the familiar brown gaze of the God of War, cold, green eyes stared back at her. Then she noticed the steely look upon his face, took in the wings, the bow and quiver hung across his back. A pterocentaur, had captured her. There was nowhere to hide anymore. She had run out of luck. She was now in the hands of the enemy.

  ~

  Searing pain ripped through her chest with every jostle and flap of the pterocentaur’s wings. He did not speak to her as they flew back to the castle, but his eyes pierced her with unadulterated hatred and disgust.