As he looked her over, she saw no sign of the desire he had shown in the room above the tavern. Instead, she saw only hate and contempt. Reaching out, he grasped the chain around her neck that held her medallion and jerked it off her neck.
“Ashtar’s Own,” he said, leering at her. Dropping the medallion to the ground, he ground it deep into the moist soil beneath his heel, saying, “I vanquished Ashtar Herself once, and now I enslave her servant.”
“No!” she screamed, rage at his blasphemy overwhelming his arcane control of her body.
Before he could react, she was upon him with smashing fists and battering feet. She hammered at his face, then clawed at it, trying to gouge out his hateful black eyes.
A noise behind her alerted Raven to zombies closing on her. But before she could turn and face them, something smashed into her head. Light and blackness flashed behind her eyes, staggering her. Then strong hands seized her arms and legs, dragging her to the cold, wet ground.
When she regained her sight, she saw the priest being helped up. He was bleeding from both ears and his nose. His lips were smashed, and his face was beginning to swell. Raven felt quite pleased with what she had done, until he turned to face her. The look he turned upon her chilled Raven to the bone. Never had she seen such pure, unadulterated hatred.
“I will enjoy cutting your heart out to feed my Divine Master, harlot,” he snarled. Closing his eyes, he spoke a brief pray, and his features blurred for an instant. Then he grinned at her, all his injuries healed. “No one will be able to restore you when I’m finished with you. And your soul will not go to Ashtar, but will be devoured by my Divine Master.”
He reached out and touched her forehead, feeling like cold fire on her hot flesh, and stripped her of consciousness.
Chapter 53
Joelle stopped in her tracks. Something had happened to Raven. She wasn’t behind them anymore.
“What’s wrong?” Tane said, turning to regard her with worry.
“They’re gaining,” Joelle said. “Keep going.”
Tane nodded and continued on. She was thankful that he was so trusting. Another might have pressed her for a more concrete answer. But she couldn’t tell him what she suspected. He wouldn’t take the loss of Raven well, and might try to go back for her. Joelle’s first and only consideration was to get Tane to Caeren alive.
Blessed Maag, I’m doing the right thing, but why do I feel so dirty?
Praying that Raven had fallen honorably, and hadn’t been taken alive, Joelle continued her sliding trek down the trail behind Tane. She considered several spells she still had enough hoarded life energy to fuel. None of them would solve their problem, or even guarantee that Tane would escape. All of the spells would leave her totally exhausted and helpless before their enemy, unable to even defend herself with sword and dagger.
Looking to the heavens, she asked Maag for the courage if the time came to sacrifice herself. And asked her Goddess to look over Armin.
The run down into the flood plain seemed to drag on forever. Joelle was thankful for the army training she received. Before being forcibly inducted she and Armin rarely even considered the need for strengthening their endurance. They were cavalry, and only held ground-pounders in utter contempt. If not for the army endurance training, brief as it was, she wouldn’t have lasted past midnight, and neither would’ve Armin.
A noise alerted Joelle to the zombies closing on her. The closest was only a dozen paces behind her, and scrambling closer and closer. She tried to move faster, but seemed to just slow down more and more the harder she tried.
“Tane, they’re almost on top of us,” she gasped out. “Find a place to make a stand, back to back.”
“Great Gods,” Tane said breathlessly. He continued on a moment, then shouted with joy, “The river! We’re almost to the river! I can see it through the trees!”
“Faster!” Joelle cried, feeling her second wind kick in at the news.
Within moments they crawled out of the thicket. Quinn and Armin were waiting, swords ready. The sight of the waiting men caused the zombies to slow, allowing their number to increase for the assault.
“No! Run,” Joelle said. “Armin, Quinn, take Tane and go. I’ll follow in a moment.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Armin said.
“Do as I say,” Joelle snapped. “I’m going to try and slow them down.”
“What about Raven?” Tane said.
“She fell long ago,” Joelle said, and instantly regretted the harsh way she said it. More consolingly, “I’m sorry, Tane. She fell trying to give us time to escape, so don’t make her sacrifice meaningless. Run. Get across the river.”
“But what about you?” Armin said.
“I’ll be along in a moment,” she lied. By the stricken look in Armin’s eyes, she knew he realized what she was going to do. “Please.”
Before Armin’s resolve could falter, Tane took command, “Armin, take the point. Follow the trail. Quinn take the rear. The river is only a hundred paces away. Everyone, empty your water bladders as you run. You’ll need them to make it across.”
Joelle and Armin shared a long look, then he turned and vanished into the forest. Tane looked back at her, anguish in his eyes, but followed Armin. Quinn nodded to her before following them.
With the departure of the men, the zombies came on at full speed. Joelle feared she wouldn’t have time to cast her spell. So feverishly drawing arcane symbols in the air, she muttered the spell as fast as safe. Fire was relatively easy to call, but what she intended was a little more difficult.
Standing erect in the middle of the trail, and praying none of the zombies had a missile weapon, she closed her eyes and spread her arms wide. She could hear their breathing by the time she spoke the final word.
Fire erupted along a line perpendicular to the trail. It stretched out a good twenty paces to either side of Joelle, and rose up twice her height. Then with a mental push, and the last of her strength, Joelle sent the wall of arcane fire speeding toward Dakar’s host.
The zombies burst into flames upon contact, most perishing in less than five heartbeats within the super-heated fires. Joelle watched as she fell exhausted to her knees. Bitterness welled up when the fires died less than thirty paces up the trail, leaving most of the pursuing zombies untouched.
Rising up onto wobbly legs, Joelle pulled her sword. But when the first zombie reached her, she didn’t have the strength to even slash at him. Instead, she over-balanced and fell to her knees as a priest came down the trail.
~**~**~
Nizar watched the wall of flames approaching with horror. Dakar protected him from fire, but his zombies were helpless against it. If that black-hearted witch killed all his zombies, Dakar might be disappointed in him. He might even blame Nizar’s bumbling on the loss.
Then the flames faded and died.
Dakar be praised!
When she rose up to her feet, he feared she would cast a more potent spell. He knew mages could kill him with magic, but wasn’t sure about witches. Nizar didn’t want to find out first hand.
“Quickly, take the witch before she can cast another spell,” Nizar cried.
Following them, ready to jump aside if she threatened him, Nizar watched Joelle like a hawk. She was clearly exhausted, standing flushed and shaking. Seeing her thus, he felt a thrill of victory course through his body. First the harlot had fallen, now the witch. Soon, the swordsmith would fall to him.
She stepped forward to challenge the first zombie to reach her, but faltered and fell to her knees. Nizar wanted to cry out in joy. To see his enemy so helpless!
Ignoring personal safety, he raced down the trail to confront her. Dakar would be so proud!
“Witch! Time to meet your new master!” Nizar cried as he reached her.
She looked up at him, eyes suddenly blazing. He didn’t hesitate, confident in his power. Lashing out with his foot, he kicked her square in the face. The witch was left sprawled before him on her back.
>
“You are no match for a priest of Dakar,” Nizar sneered. But he was well-aware of the dangers of magic-users. His Divine Master had warned His priesthood about their threat. “Hold her still.”
Half a dozen zombies leapt atop her. The witch struggled weakly in their grasp as he moved in to enslave her forever. She screamed just before he touched her forehead, and stole away her free-will.
After she was left magically helpless, and bound to Dakar’s service, Nizar started down the trail again. Somewhere up ahead was his prey. Tane Kyleson. The swordsmith who threatened his Divine Master’s rule. He wanted to be there when Tane and his remaining comrades fell into Dakar’s waiting trap. The threat would end, and his God’s ultimate victory would be assured.
~**~**~
Half-sliding, half-running, Tane followed Armin toward the river. Quinn was just a step behind him. The zombies came crashing after them. In the near distance, he heard Joelle’s scream. Armin stopped dead in his tracks, causing Tane to crash into him.
“It’s too late for Joelle,” Quinn said. “Run!”
“They’re too fast,” Tane gasped out as they set out again. They could see the river through the trees.
“Most of them are just now joining the chase,” Quinn said. Suddenly, they were standing on the bank, the mist-shrouded river before them. And then they saw the zombies in small boats waiting for them. “Sweet Mother protect, we’ve ran into a trap!”
“A trap? How?” Tane said, wild-eyed. “I thought everyone agreed they couldn’t track us magically, and that Dakar couldn’t find us either.”
“Apparently we were wrong,” Quinn said. He sounded as bitter as Tane felt.
Tane was too tired and frightened to curse. He was almost too tired to care. There had to be a way out. He absolutely had to escape. Then he noticed that Armin had disappeared.
The clash of steel on steel brought Tane and Quinn around to face the trail. Armin cursed harshly up the trail, followed by the rustling of bushes all around them.
“Joelle!” Armin cried.
“Back to back!” Quinn ordered, spinning around.
Tane crouched at Quinn’s back as waves of zombies flooded out of the surrounding cover. All were fresh and unbloodied. As they grew nearer and nearer, the zombies slowed and became more deliberate.
“Damn me for a fool!” Quinn spat. “I’m sorry, my friend. I have failed you.”
“Nonsense,” Tane said. “I am the one who dragged you into this.”
A flurry of fighting back down the trail killed Quinn’s response. Tane could hear Armin’s furiously cursing as he fought for his life.
“Die well, my friend,” Tane muttered. Embittered by defeat, he said, “We’ll all be together on the other side soon enough.”
“Not me,” Quinn said, trying unsuccessfully to sound glib. “Remember? Elves aren’t allowed into your human afterlife. Elves are reincarnated.”
“Then you, at least, can continue the fight,” Tane said, though wondering what the fate of a half-elf’s spirit would be.
Armin’s fight came to an abrupt halt. The silence was dreadful. It was the worse sound Tane had ever heard.
Another friend lost.
Crying out in rage, Tane stepped forward to flesh his sword in a zombie’s chest. Quinn also lashed out, freeing two more zombies of Dakar’s hold.
“Counter-clock,” Tane said, taking a step to his left.
Quinn stepped to his left as well, starting them in the slow circling movement Corporal Pendar had taught them. Tane prayed it confused the enchanted men and women. Then a priest arrived, stealing away all of Tane’s attention.
“Well done!” Nizar said. He stopped a good ten paces away, and said, “If you surrender, I promise you won’t be hurt.”
“Ha! That’s a lie,” Tane shot back. “Being turned into a zombie slave is worse than death.”
The priest smiled coldly. Turning back the way he had come, he signaled to others further back. Tane felt dread building, for the priest was too smug.
“I believe there are worse things, for you anyway, than being a zombie,” he said, looking hard into Tane’s eyes. “I think you would do anything to save your friends.”
“My friends?” Tane asked, heart leaping into his throat. No...he couldn’t have captured.... A half-dozen zombies came stumbling down the trail. Then he saw a familiar woman, a zombie, trailing behind them. “Raven!”
“Yes, and she is mine,” Nizar said. He motioned and another group of zombies emerged from the forest. Joelle shuffled along in their midst, coming to a stop next to the priest. “As is the witch.”
Nizar signaled for Raven to approach. She never hesitated. Quinn groaned low in his throat, and it was the most miserably sound Tane had ever heard.
“You will both surrender, or I’ll have the harlot and the witch kill each other,” Nizar said.
Both women pulled daggers and faced each other. It was all Tane could do to maintain his senses when Raven placed the dagger at Joelle’s throat and waited for the command to kill her friend, while Joelle prepared to drive her dagger deep into Raven’s heart.
“Raven, don’t!” Quinn shouted. “Joelle, fight him!”
They ignored him. Their lifeless eyes never left the priest.
All of Tane’s nightmare came back to him. He saw Raven, Joelle, Quinn, and Armin all dying. Dying needlessly. And it was all his fault. He had known it in the nightmares, and knew it now. Because of him they were dying, and for no good reason or purpose.
But if he surrendered, then Dakar would win and the world would be lost to His vile rule. He and the others would become zombies, their lives stolen away. And they would become weapons to destroy all they had ever loved.
“We will not dishonor our friends by surrendering!” Quinn shouted, and charged the priest.
In the next instant all was in chaos. Tane struck out in all directions. Zombies rushed him and Quinn, their edged weapons discarded.
“Kamain, give my arm strength!” Tane called to the heavens.
Kicking and slashing, he fought the zombies off with growing desperation. Those that didn’t receive mortal wounds grabbed at his legs, trying to pull him down. But when he tried to stab and slash at their hands, the others swarmed over him.
“Quinn!” Tane cried as he was pulled down. “Run!”
Chapter 54
Fighting his way back to consciousness, Tane felt the bone-numbing cold first, punctuated by the first biting touches of snowfall reaching his hot cheeks. His lungs ached, and his ribs felt like an axe was buried in them, on both sides. Then the pain of countless cuts and bruises made themselves known, reminding him of his defeat and capture. There was a single struggle going on nearby, with the sound of countless feet shuffling in the dead leaves.
Suppressing a groan, he forced open his eyes to find himself laying face down on the wet, frigid forest floor. The snowfall and mist off the river made the surrounding forest more gray than black, and the zombies looked like wraiths. He couldn’t see any more than that, for his wrists were tied behind his back and someone had a knee pressed between his shoulder blades.
A noise to his right brought Tane’s head around. Armin, unconscious and bleeding from numerous wounds, was dropped beside him. Like himself, the Vikon warrior was bound hand and foot. Then Quinn was thrown down on the other side of Armin, still struggling with his captors despite everything.
“Are you all right?” Tane asked.
The half-elf looked as thoroughly beaten as Tane felt. There was an ugly knot over his right eye, and blood seeped from a broken nose and one ear. Quinn’s struggles with his bonds looked weak and half-hearted now that the zombies had stepped back out of reach of his feet.
“I’ve been in worse shape,” Quinn said through clenched teeth.
“Did you see Raven and Joelle?” Tane asked. Fearing the answer, he asked quietly, “Did they kill each other?”
“No,” Quinn said, suddenly ceasing his struggles and looking pensive. “Th
ey haven’t moved, but neither have their daggers.”
“That’s right,” Nizar said, stepping before Tane. “Your friends haven’t died. Not yet.”
Tane tried to look up at the priest’s face, but he was standing too close. The zombies opened a path for Raven and Joelle. Each still held a dagger.
A chill coursed through Tane’s body at the sight. Raven and Joelle zombies. And the rest of them just as helpless as their magically enslaved friends. What next? Would they all be joining Raven and Joelle in unholy slavery? Would the next sunset find them all shuffling northward, zombie soldiers of Dakar? Or would the priest have Raven and Joelle kill him and his friends?
Kamain, what am I going to do? What should I do?
“I hope you have reconsidered your opposition to cooperating with my...with our Divine Master,” Nizar said when Raven arrived with Joelle.
Tane was silently grateful that Raven and Joelle didn’t threaten each other with daggers again. Where there was life, there was hope. They were all still alive, and together, despite their predicament.
“It’s kind of difficult to think properly while tied up like a hog for the slaughter,” Tane said, trying to act casual. “And threatening my friends doesn’t make me any more interested in helping you, either.”
Nizar growled low in his throat.
“Maybe this will help,” he said, turning to Raven. “Harlot, kill the witch.”
“NO!” Tane cried.
“Kill her!” Nizar commanded.
Raven stepped to Joelle’s right rear and seized the witch’s hair in one hand and raised the dagger to Joelle’s throat. She pulled Joelle’s head back and prepared to pull the razor-keen blade across the witch’s exposed throat.
“No,” a deep, commanding voice said. “Not yet, slave.”
Everyone turned to see a black spot in the air beside the priest begin to expand and elongate. Zombies started falling to their knees, then fell to their bellies before their God and master. Raven and Joelle quickly joined them, bringing a sigh of relief from Tane. Nizar, too, dropped to his knees, his head bowed in reverence.
Belly of the Beast Page 23