Belly of the Beast

by Warren Thomas

  “He also failed Me, but I have granted him the chance to redeem himself by recapturing the swordsmith,” Dakar said, watching closely Mogens’ reaction. Strangely, the High Priest looked alarmed. Any man who could frighten that cold, cruel Thanir warrior was a man worth keeping. Perhaps Mogens saw a potential in Nizar that Dakar had failed to observe due to His natural disdain for all humans. “You are to see to it that Nizar has everything he requests. Men, horses, weapons, anything. Tane Kyleson has to be stopped.”

  “Yes, Divine Master,” Mogens said, but his face was more wily than reverent. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Certainly,” Dakar said. It helped to inspire humans by considering their ideas. Indeed, if they thought themselves a viable part of any plan, or had participated in the planning, then they would try twice as hard to succeed. He found it irritating, having to patronize mere mortals, and such frail, pathetic mortals as humans, but they were all He had at the moment. “Your ideas are always welcome, and more often than not sound advice.”

  Mogens pleased his God by only allowing himself to bask in such praise a bare heartbeat before making his suggestion.

  “Since we have Tane Kyleson’s cousin,” he said, watching his God’s every expression for any sign of disapproval. “I suggest we send her along with Brother Nizar. The swordsmith is less likely to fight her, and I doubt if he is capable of actually killing her. And if one of his friends should kill her that may be enough to destroy their little cabal even if they manage to escape Nizar again.”

  Dakar nodded, already sending His mind out in quest of the enchanted slave, Jessy. He found her standing guard before Mogens’ personal quarters in the temple. She looked much better than when she was first presented to Him. Gone were the filthy, blood-splattered clothes and filthier body. Jessy was newly scrubbed and wore a plain black tunic and gray trousers.

  Entering her mind, He sifted through all her childhood memories. Tane was there at every turn, and proved he was highly protective of her and all he loved. His protectiveness irritated her, but she practically worshipped the man, even strove to emulate his “noble” ways. His only fault, as she saw it, was a total lack of any ‘warrior’ ambition.

  “Your reasoning is sound,” Dakar said, leaving her mind to consider how best to use what he had learned. He stifled a need to sigh in relief. Entering human minds, even those of enchanted slaves, was a tedious, grueling endeavor for Him. The effort of sifting through the minds of Nizar and Jessy had used up the equivalent of two hundred human souls. “I believe it might even work, but I have a better idea.”

  Mogens hid his disappointment well.

  “Leave her where she is,” He said, staring off into space as He made plans aloud. “I will transport Brother Nizar here in a moment, then I’ll send him to her. She will be freed from My service, in a manner. I intend to set her on her cousin’s track believing he has turned to evil!”

  Chapter 63

  Tane called a halt to their headlong flight once the stitch in his side proved too much to endure. The long, hard run before their capture hadn’t hurt as much as the wild one hour ride along the trade road. The road was narrow, with many limbs hanging low under the weight of snow and ice. Tane and Quinn had suffered the most, their faces picking up more scratches and bruises. Raven and the Vikon couple were experienced riders and knew how to avoid such punishment. It was all Tane or Quinn could do to stay ahorse.

  “I was just starting to relax and enjoy the ride,” Raven said as she dismounted, grinning mischievously at Quinn’s grimace as he dismounted beside her. Then a look of shock claimed her face, “Shining Gods! I thought elves could endure more than any human! The world is truly coming to an end!”

  “It’s my human half that’s hurting,” Quinn said and sniffed haughtily. “The elven half barely realizes anything is amiss.”

  “By the pained way you’re walking, I’d say you’re human from the waist down,” Armin laughed.

  Joelle and Raven roared with laughter, while Tane shared a sympathetic look with the half-elf. Seeing what had happened to Quinn, Tane decided not to attempt walking until his groin muscles realized they had been granted a reprieve and relaxed.

  Squatting beside his horse, Tane asked, “So, does anyone know where we are? Or how far the next city is? How far Caeren is from here?”

  “You’re our glorious leader,” Raven said, sitting cross-legged in front of him. She patted the snow-covered ground in front of her, “Lay face down, my hero.”

  “In the snow?”

  “Yes. I know a thing or three about relieving cramps,” she said, grinning wickedly. “Not to say the savior of the whole world has cramps. I would never speak such blasphemy! I just want to get in your good graces in case you have any sway with the Gods.”

  “Your jokes aren’t getting any better,” Quinn grumbled.

  Raven winked at him, “You’re next, sugar thighs. So don’t go getting jealous on me.”

  Willing to try anything to relieve the pain, Tane did as Raven instructed. Armin made a crude remark when she began a deep massage of his buttocks and inner thighs. His face burned red under the laughter until he realized her ministrations were working. Soon, his muscles relaxed and he could move freely. Then she removed his boots and started in on his feet, which proved more soothing overall than the previous massage. Seeing the results, Quinn didn’t hesitated when Raven patted the spot Tane vacated.

  Halfway through Quinn’s massage, Armin asked, “Could you teach Joelle how to do that?”

  That got him an elbow in the ribs.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” Joelle asked, not sure that she liked the idea or not. As a Vikon, she was practically born in the saddle. But, frequently, the poor and desperate went to the Vikon for medical attention. Such a skill might prove useful, and profitable. “Is the skill common in the Tyr Mountains?”

  Raven was quiet a long moment, her face expressionless as she worked on Quinn’s knotted muscles.

  “No,” she said, then began working on Quinn’s feet by pressing firmly on certain spots. The half-elf sighed and relaxed further. “It’s common to trained slaves, though. and I’m highly trained.”

  For the first time, Tane heard bitterness in Raven’s voice when discussing her slave training. Before, she had treated it as a way to scandalized others, to taunt them with her beauty and skill in using it. At times she even flaunted it. Something told Tane that this was the real Raven showing through.

  Suddenly she slapped Quinn’s rump, “Up and at them, lover! You’re looser than a back-alley whore, and twice as ugly. But I love you anyway.”

  Quinn rolled over with a grunt, saying, “You have a way with words. And just when I was starting to like you.”

  She laughed and grabbed hold of his week’s growth of beard, giving it a playful tug. “I’m the love of your life, and you know it.”

  “Time to leave,” Joelle said, standing. “Now that our pedestrians are healed, maybe we can lengthen our lead.”

  Even Quinn laughed at that.

  Tane rose slowly to his feet, but made sure no one noticed his pain. He was painfully aware that he was the only one of the group that wasn’t a seasoned campaigner. The last thing he wanted or needed was for the others to ease up on their efforts for his sake. Then he saw Raven’s grimace of pain as she rose to her feet. No one else was looking.

  He remembered her injured neck. She still didn’t turn her head, or look up or down very much.

  “Wait,” he said. “Joelle, can you heal Raven’s neck?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with my neck!”

  “You can barely move – ”

  “It’s just a bruise,” she snapped, eyes blazing so hotly that Tane wondered what he’d done wrong. Didn’t she want to be healed? “I’ve been hurt worse than this dozens of times, and kept on fighting.”

  “I’m Gifted in healing,” Joelle said, thankfully taking Raven’s attention away from Tane.

  “But all magic takes a toll. Yo
ur strength is limited, or at least your store of energy,” Raven said, her rage starting to burn out. “If we’re attacked, we’ll need your magic. Some of us might sustain life-threatening wounds. I won’t allow you to waste it on such a minor injury. Leave me be.”

  “You can’t fight injured,” Quinn said.

  “Are you man enough to try me?” she said venomously.

  “But we want to help you,” Tane said, confused by her refusal. “You’ve done so much for us – ”

  “I’ve done nothing for you!” she screamed, tears spring from her eyes. “Shining Gods, I betrayed you! All of you! I’m the reason the priest could track us down!”

  Raven turned her back on them, hanging onto her saddle and shaking so violently Tane found himself alarmed despite her words. Everyone else was too shocked to move, or even think.

  “I don’t understand,” Tane said.

  That unleashed a torrent of self-abuse from her, though she never turned to face them. In between berating herself, she told the story of the “prince” in the tavern.

  “Clever use of magic,” Joelle said after Raven finished. “But why do you blame yourself? I don’t blame you. Tane doesn’t blame you. Only you choose lay blame at your feet.”

  “Besides, Tane lost his mail when we were captured, so they can’t track us like that anymore,” Armin said.

  “You were bespelled,” Tane said, stepping up beside her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. He was shocked to discover her trembling. “We’ve all been magicked at one time or another. You’ve just suffered more than the rest of us by being attacked twice.”

  “If I had been stronger, less vain, or not such a harlot, none of you would’ve been captured and enchanted,” she said. “It was my failure, my weakness, that brought Dakar’s priests and zombies down on us.”

  “And you were the first to declare your support for me after we escaped Kestsax,” Tane said. “You refused to desert me or my cause, even though I tried to run you all away. I believe the others had been prepared to go their separate ways, until you spoke your mind.”

  “And here we are,” Armin said. “Let’s hang her.”

  Tane looked around in shock.

  “No, hanging is too good for her,” Joelle said. “Let’s draw and quarter her.”

  “Wait, I know,” Quinn said. “We can force her to stay with us. The cold and hunger of the trip will be a hundred times worse than death. And to add insult to injury, no one will laugh at any of her stupid jokes.”

  Tane grinned at the others. Even Raven managed a weak smile.

  “That won’t be any problem,” Armin said. “None of her jokes are funny anyway.”

  “Ha! You’re just jealous because all my jokes go over your head,” Raven said. “You wouldn’t know funny if it bit your nose off.”

  While Raven’s attention was diverted, Tane signaled to Joelle. The witch eased over behind Raven. Raven stiffened when Joelle laid hands on her neck. Tane was prepared to hold her in place, and prayed the other two men came to his rescue, if she resisted. But Raven’s eyes went wide, then closed.

  Smiling in relief, Joelle closed her own eyes and began a low chant. While he watched, Tane saw Raven’s whole body begin to relax. He hadn’t realized how much pain she had been in until then. It amazed him how people would punish themselves needlessly.

  Chapter 64

  The Grand Temple of Dakar in Treversax was the largest temple complex in the Leltic Lands still intact. All signs that it was built as a temple of Kamain had been meticulously eradicated. Now the ceilings were painted dark gray, the many columns and walls were black. The effect gave the impression of eternal night, since not even the brightest lamp seemed able to give light for more than a few feet.

  Jessy didn’t care. Standing in a small pool of lamplight, she barely even noticed her surroundings. Her master, High Priest Mogens, had ordered her to guard the door to his quarters. She had no other duty, no other wish or desire. It was far easier than storming the walls of Kestsax and Calan had been, and warmer. The food wasn’t any better, but it was regular. She had no other concerns.

  Food, warmth, and obedience were the limits of her ability to think, to consider. If something couldn’t be eaten, or keep her warm, or fall within the parameters of her orders, then she had no use for it.

  A small sound to her right caught her attention. She focused on it, narrowing her eyes to peer into the constant gloom. There was a movement, which quickly coalesced into a robed man striding toward her. He was accompanied by a smaller robed figure to his rear, probably a woman. She didn’t care, as long as they didn’t try to enter her master’s quarters.

  Watching the pair approach, she tightened her grip upon the spear and moved her left hand over to loosen her new sword in its scabbard. Just in case. The High Priest’s quarters were at the end of the passage, high in the temple’s north tower. There were only two doors between her and the newcomers.

  She watched calmly as they passed first one, then the last door. At that time she lifted the spear and held it diagonally across her body. They would not pass while she lived. Those were her orders. There was no other option for her.

  “Halt,” she said in a neutral voice. So far, the intruders hadn’t given her any reason to believe they meant mischief, or worse. “The High Priest is not in his quarters, Your Grace. No one may pass.”

  The priest stopped at the edge of the light. She had never seen him before. He was tall and slim, dressed head to toe in dark gray robes, turban, and veil. All she could see of him were fierce black eyes. The woman stayed back in the shadows.

  “I am Nizar al-Sayyid, Priest of Dakar,” he said, stepping closer. “I was told that you have recently come from the fighting. Is this true?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded, seemingly satisfied. He stepped closer.

  “Our Divine Master believes the Arisen Gods have unleashed a terrible plague upon the recently conquered lands, intent on destroying His mortal host,” Nizar continued, moving ever closer. “He has sent me around to check on everyone that has been on the front.”

  Jessy lowered the spearhead, aiming it at Nizar’s heart. He prudently stopped, his eyes narrowing in anger.

  “Do you question me?” he demanded.

  “I do not know you,” she said.

  She looked at the woman, well hidden within her hooded cloak. He noticed and nodded.

  “She is the only one I’ve found with any illness,” he said. “I am to take anyone who is ill before our Divine Master.”

  “I am not ill.”

  “I’ll decide that,” he said. When she refused to allow him to brush aside the spear, he said. “Don’t make me use my priestly powers, slave. I don’t have the time or patience for this.” When she still didn’t relent, “I’m not trying to get past you, slave. I only need to touch you briefly, to see if you are contaminated.”

  For the first time since being enslaved, Jessy knew confusion. Something told her this was all wrong, but she had to obey the orders of all priests. High Priest Mogens’ orders superseded all others, save Dakar Himself, but otherwise she had to be absolutely obedient. And the new priest didn’t seem intent on passing her.

  With no other option she could fathom, Jessy dropped her guard and allowed the priest to approach. She kept her eye on him, trying to keep the woman in sight as well. When he made no attempt to maneuver her around so that she couldn’t see both at once, she relaxed.

  “This won’t hurt a bit,” Nizar said, reaching out to touch her forehead.

  His fingers were icy cold and a bit damp, as if he’d just pulled them out of icy water. The woman didn’t move. Then a jolt shot through Jessy, staggering her.

  “Ashtar!” she gasped, steadying herself against the door. “What? I mean...where...?”

  Then it all came back in a rush. The zombies shuffling out of the dark forest. The fight on the walls, in the streets. Being dragged down and beaten senseless. That terrible priestess. The battle of Kestsax, and
the following sack. The screaming and crying men, women, and children. Then the cold march to Calan, and that city’s fall. All the horrors of war. All the needless deaths of zombies and defenders alike.

  “Quickly, inside,” the priest snapped, opening the door and waving her in. The other woman rushed past her and disappeared inside the High Priest’s quarters. Jessy hesitated, fear gripping her heart with icy claws. “Hurry, girl! Before we are discovered.”

  Jessy darted inside, but kept a firm hold on her spear. Inside, she got a stout table between herself and the other two. Both looked like priests of Dakar. That thought brought back the memory of when the High Priest presented her to the God.

  Tane! What are they doing to you?

  “We need your help, Jessy Calvandaughter,” Nizar said.

  “Who are you? What do you want?” she said.

  The woman murmured something, and all her concealing robes vanished. Before Jessy stood the most stunning woman she had ever beheld. Tall and shapely, the woman had long black hair, emerald green eyes, and alabaster skin. She wore silvery plate armor and black leather.

  “I am Ashtar, Goddess of War and Adventure,” She said haughtily. “I assure you, that little pig-sticker will have no effect on Me.”

  A sudden, overwhelming aura of power rushed over Jessy. Ashtar seemed to glow, to shine like the sun in her eyes. She had no doubt that she beheld a Goddess, in all Her glory. Her mother’s Goddess. Her Goddess.

  Falling to her knees, Jessy cried, “My Goddess! You have saved me!”

  The Goddess smiled indulgently.

  “Of course. I have a deed for you to perform,” She said. “You must track down and stop Tane Kyleson.”

  “Tane? My cousin?” she said, confused. She recalled that Dakar had him, was forcing him to perform some terrible deed that would destroy the Arisen. She wasn’t real sure what it was, since at the time she heard the High Priest and Dakar discussing it she hadn’t cared due to her enchantment. “Dakar is holding him prisoner. He’s being forced to do it! He’s not evil!”