The Nesilia's War Trilogy: (Buried Goddess Saga Box Set: Books 4-6)

by Rhett C. Bruno

  Another earthquake hit. Like with Bliss, a primordial howl echoed along with it. But this time, it wasn’t Bliss. It shook the room enough to rock them both into a wall and knock them apart.

  “What is she doing?” Torsten asked, peeling himself off the ground.

  “I don’t know,” Rand replied, using the counter to try and stand.

  Torsten pointed out the window, where the battle raged. “Is that her freeing this world?”

  “I don’t know!” he screamed.

  “You knew when you killed my friend!”

  Torsten charged, and Rand caught his hands. Torsten’s shoulder rammed into Rand’s chest and planted him onto his back, splitting the wood floor.

  “You betrayed your people!” Torsten shouted as he punched the Eye of Iam sculpted into his Shieldsman chestplate. “You betrayed your king.” He punched again. “You betrayed me!”

  The third blow splintered the wood right beside Rand’s head. The weakling writhed to get free. His arms lay back flat, and he coughed up a gob of blood.

  “All your blame for Oleander and you became the executioner for something so much worse,” Torsten said, voice quaking. Again, he had Rand at his mercy, and he couldn’t bring himself to do it, no matter how much he hated him.

  “Torsten…” Rand gurgled. “She took control of the glaruium in my armor. She did it. She brought the sword down.”

  “Liar!” Torsten snarled.

  Rand shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t… I—I don’t know if I would have done it myself anymore. Or if she made me. I don’t know. I—I just want to see her…”

  “Your sister?” Torsten replied. “You’ve betrayed her memory worst of all, Rand Langley.”

  “No, I talked to her!” Raising his voice sent him into a fit of coughing. “I talked to her. This is what she wants. She’s saving our world.”

  “You know that isn’t her.”

  He squeezed his eyelids shut. “It is. It has to be.”

  “It isn’t.”

  Torsten shoved off the floor with his fists, retrieving Salvation on his way. He squeezed the grip, staring down at the pathetic excuse for a man. He’d left him like this in Latiapur, and, somehow, he’d come crawling back like a rat. If he’d killed him then, Lucas might still be alive. But he knew that wasn’t true. Nesilia used Lucas to taunt Torsten, and if Rand hadn’t been the one holding the sword, it would have been someone else. Rand was a tool. Nothing more.

  That was how Torsten knew Rand’s Sigrid didn’t remain in any capacity. Not in her upyr form. Not in Nesilia’s mind. No sister would ever use a brother in such a way. Rand groaned as he dragged his body and propped up against the counter, his crushed armor constricting his movements.

  “Just do it,” Rand moaned. “End it already. I don’t want to live anymore. Not like this.”

  Torsten hoisted Salvation. He could see hope in Rand’s eyes that it might finally end. Instead, he rested the blade against his shoulder and moved to the doorway. He could hear sobbing behind him, but that was the least Rand deserved.

  Madness awaited outside. The cavalry had charged down, trampling goblins and possessed men, but the Drav Cra had halted their charge. A giant, furry beast rampaged through the market, its tusks killing ally and enemy.

  Above the clamor of it all, Torsten heard the familiar bells of Yarrington Cathedral chiming. He remembered the plan. When Freydis was dead, Aquira was to fly up and ring those sacred bells.

  “Please…” Rand rasped, crawling into the threshold of the bakery shop’s doorway.

  Torsten glanced back at the traitor and his broken body. In that moment, all he could feel for the man was pity.

  “I’m no executioner,” Torsten said, and then rushed out. He stuck to the shadows of the overhangs, but it was impossible to avoid a fight. Horses rumbled by. Arrows glanced off all around. Buildings burned. Others crumbled.

  He’d allowed Rand to steal his focus for the last time. Former Shieldsmen arrayed at the top of the hill, at the archway welcoming citizens to Old Yarrington. It was broken in the center, the sign hanging from one side. The Shieldsmen covered his approach. All those who retreated from the markets flowed through the castle gates and mounted its walls.

  Old Yarrington was located upon a bluff, but grimaurs were already terrorizing the civilians hunkered down in mansions, and beating at the windows of the Cathedral.

  “Sir Unger!” Sir Mulliner said, approaching the gates with a regiment. “You made it.”

  “Barely,” Torsten said. He stopped to gather his breath. “Sora. Did she do it? Is the warlock slain?”

  “I’m not sure. She chased her out beyond the walls, and I—I… I had to call a retreat. We collapsed the northern stairs to Old Yarrington. The heathens will have to go around, but it won’t buy long.”

  “You did well,” Torsten said. “Pull all defenses to the keep. Hold, as long as you can.”

  “Yes, sir. Where are you going?”

  “To the Throne Room, to end this.”

  “What if she failed?” Mulliner asked.

  Torsten seized him by the shoulders and gave a firm shake. “I have faith, my friend.”

  Sir Mulliner nodded, and not a second later was barking orders throughout the courtyard, prepping the castle for the maelstrom of death that was to come.

  Torsten rushed into the courtyard, where he found Uhlvark sitting by the fountain, arms around his knees, chin to his massive chest.

  “Uhlvark, my friend, are you okay?” Torsten asked. “Where’s Dellbar?”

  The giant splashed a bit of water and stuck out his lower lip. “Friend Dellbar say he has to go to crypt alone. No Uhlvark.”

  “Then I’m sure he had a very good reason.” Torsten moved to his side and pointed back at the gate. “Do you see those doors? When the retreat is through, the enemy is going to try and break through them. You can help hold them closed. No matter what. Do this, and you’ll protect everyone.”

  The giant perked up. “Even friend Torsten?”

  “Especially me.” Torsten gave him a pat, and the giant seemed invigorated. Torsten didn’t even mind that the clumsy thing broke the fountain’s dragon statue as he used it to stand.

  If the age was truly ending, what was one more relic gone?

  XLV

  The Caleef

  With Babrak’s army charging into South Corner, Mahi was left in Dockside, surrounded by death and Current Eaters. There was no opportunity for ambush. Bit’rudam and Lord Jolly called for charges, and an all-out, bloody war between the now-equally-matched sides initiated.

  Out in the inlet, bodies floated, carried upon sloshing waves produced by flailing sea creatures. Ships burned, sending thick, black, and putrid-smelling smoke into a sky just as dark. Whale oil continued to burn with no regard for the water surrounding it. Even in Trader’s Strait, Mahi had never seen such an inferno dancing upon the sea.

  She closed her eyes. Is this what they’d become? Those were her people out there, even those belonging to Babrak. How could any of them have chosen to follow Nesilia? What could she have promised that was worth all this?

  No matter what she’d promised, death is all that’s been delivered, Mahi thought.

  She stood, back to a city on fire, looking out beyond the Current Eaters who continued to ravage the docks and surrounding buildings. Turning, she opened her eyes. The fires burned hot, but she didn’t feel them. Before her, Dockside was little more than smoking cinder. The death throes of the Shesaitju bombarded her from every direction. Sadness overwhelmed her, knowing that each voice, regardless of which side they were on, belonged to a Shesaitju brother.

  Yarrington in flames. It was what so many of her ancestors, including her father, had spent much of their lives dreaming of. Even the memories of the Caleefs within her mind echoed the sentiment. Now, seeing it in fruition, it made her sick.

  She took slow steps, eyes traveling the tragedy enveloping her. She wanted to jump back into the battle, join her pe
ople, embarrass Babrak with a loss, but she had a job to do. She needed to capture a Current Eater, and the ones rampaging into South Corner were surrounded by allies and enemies. Too many chances for it to go wrong. She needed one isolated. No chance for interference.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

  “Dijent!” came the cry in Saitjuese. Help.

  It called again, and Mahi followed the sound to a warrior lying on the stairs leading toward South Corner’s market district. He was surrounded by licking flames. His gray skin was charred and bloody. His hair, if he’d had any before the battle, was singed off. And his legs… they were shredded gore, torn off, one at the knee and one at the hip. As he bled, he cried, begging for help.

  It was one of the enemies, one of Babrak’s traitors. She stood over him, her face betraying no emotion.

  “Caleef, Saiduni’min feydlik, dijent,” he said. Please, help me, my Caleef.

  She continued to stare down, wondering how this man could have the audacity to call her that after what he’d just taken part in.

  “Please,” he said in common.

  She took one step forward, then knelt.

  “You’ve brought dishonor to our people,” she said.

  He didn’t answer. Just closed his eyes. Tears mingled with sweat, and he struggled to open them again.

  “You’ve brought dishonor to our people,” Mahi repeated, this time in Saitjuese.

  “And may the God of Sand and Sea forgive me,” he said with an effort.

  “Because of your actions, he may be unable to,” she answered as she drove her spear between his ribs and into his heart. She twisted as she removed it, his eyes going wide. She wondered what he’d see next. Blackness? Nothing at all? Or would he somehow float upon the Eternal Current, even without Caliphar or the Sirens to guide him?

  Then another thought struck her. Would he see Iam—the God of the Glass to whom so many of her people had feigned worship of for all these years?

  She rose, letting the blade drag across the man’s tunic, cleaning it of blood as if it wouldn’t just get sullied again.

  With the number of dying warriors littering the docks, she could have spent all day there, bringing ease to their agony. The battle, however, continued to rage just beyond the flames. She could hear it all over the city, and as more enemies swam ashore throughout the docks, they would gain an advantage. Her people were engaged in mortal warfare, fighting for lives where the future was a question mark. All while Babrak remained with his honor guard at the rear, issuing orders but too cowardly to join the fight.

  A part of her still begged her to charge in and take him on alone. But her job here wasn’t done. And as more and more of the exposed Current Eaters disappeared below the waters, she knew she needed to move quickly. If her allies managed to trap Nesilia, they weren’t sure if one of the monsters would be willing to devour her. She needed to leave one without that choice.

  Finding a spot on the docks least affected by the fires, she struck down an enemy climbing up, then dove headfirst. She hit the water and felt it against her skin, one of the few sensations she could experience. Like she was one with the sea. Eyes open, she searched, but it was dark. The fires burning on the surface created eerie, disorienting shadows.

  First, she was looking for any Current Eaters that would pose a threat. Secondly, she needed one alive… and trapped. If they all escaped, there’d be precious little hope of defeating Nesilia. The entire plan now rested upon her shoulders.

  She heard everything underwater with such clarity, as if the Current itself spoke to her. What she didn’t hear was the voice of her God. He remained silent, missing, dead. More bodies hovered below the surface. Some swam for land. Others were riddled with arrows or had the weight of armor dragging them downward. Eyes were stuck open, accusing, staring at her like this was all her fault.

  Something brushed against her leg, startling her and forcing her to breathe sharply. Coughing, she pushed toward the surface. She grasped for anything, finding a dead Glass soldier. She used him to float until he began to sink. Water evacuated her lungs, and she returned her focus to whatever touched her. Diving again, her head swiveled but saw nothing but darkness. Until…

  Everything lit up like the brightest noonday sun, except it was bright green. Suddenly, swooping all around her were nigh’jels. She reached out, let her hand brush one of the jelly-like creatures. It was a piece of home in this foreign place, and somehow, confirmation that she was right where she needed to be.

  Her elation was immediately cut short as two giant orbs glinted in the distance. A plume of bubbles rose, and with it, eight massive tentacles. She could also see her target—a ship she knew to have one of Babrak’s hunting ballistae on board.

  She kicked with a fury, zipping around floating bodies and chains. At the same time, the Current Eater shoved off, and it covered the distance much quicker. At this rate, there was no chance of her reaching the ship before becoming entangled with the beast. If it came to that, there was no chance she’d survive.

  She saw the surface, but was afraid to break through, knowing that as soon as she did, she’d lose sight of the thing… but she would eventually need to breathe. She swam, fast as she could, growing ever closer to the ship. At first, she didn’t see it, but she felt it. The gentle ripples coming from beside her, just outside of her peripherals. Another Current Eater approached from her right, this one even closer. She spun, tore her spear from its place upon her back, and readied for an in-water battle.

  Darkness overwhelmed her, disorienting her until she realized the nigh’jels had rushed from her side. They were swarming the Current Eaters, disrupting their charge, and buying Mahi the time she needed. She couldn’t hesitate. She wouldn’t waste this opportunity.

  Her hand grasped the wood of the ship, smooth and unclimbable. But then, she saw a hole in its hull, water rushing in. She swam for it, following the rip of the tide. Just as she was about to enter, a giant, slippery head broke the surface beneath her, lifting her high above the waters. Tentacles slapped and slashed, barely missing her in a vain attempt to remove her skull. Like the practiced warrior she was, she regained her composure and used the attack to her advantage. She needed to board the ship, and this thing was taking her right to its deck.

  A tentacle came at her, and she stabbed, drawing thick, black blood. It screamed, primal, raw. Another raced toward her from behind, and she ducked just before it could do its damage. She slashed again. Then, looking over her shoulder, she found the ship wreckage. Shaky and rocking back and forth upon the thing’s head, she steadied herself and pushed off, landing hard on the wood deck. After a roll, she came back up with her spear poised for battle. But she saw nothing.

  Then, all at once, the ship rose, thrusting Mahraveh to the ground. She slid from one side of the deck to the other, shoulder slamming into the center mast on the way. The vessel came down hard, and Mahi went airborne. Her stomach flipped, and then she plummeted until she slammed the deck, her face leading the way. She tasted fresh blood in her mouth and knew she’d lost at least one tooth.

  Scrambling to her feet, she brandished her spear this way and that, guarding against any unseen attack. When she was sure none was coming, she rushed to the side of the ship where the Current Eater would be and drove her spear into one of the tentacles that still draped over the railing. Hot blood gushed out. She pulled it free and pierced the creature again and again. But it didn’t stop. It barely slowed down as, now, its head appeared over the railing. Those eyes—giant globes that begged her to cast herself into their depths—looked like bottomless pits. Spit-coated teeth like scythes spread apart, stained with blood. A stench like rotten fish and fetid beer assaulted her, and the sound of thunder threatened to deafen her.

  Another tentacle rose, this one with a chain attached to it, wrapped around it and digging in with many barbs. The chain swung, crashing through the main mast and scraping across the deck.

  Mahi turned and ran toward the prow where
she knew the ballista would be. The ship lurched, and it took all her focus to stay upright, but she managed. Reaching the ballista, she slid on her knees to a halt. The weapon was empty, a body slumped over it, and she saw no munitions of any kind nearby.

  Swearing, she spun. The ship lurched again, and she heard a clatter. Her head snapped toward the noise, and she spotted the ballista missiles sliding around, a couple dangling through the railings on the port side. Fighting to stay upright, she rushed over, and as she reached them, one fell through, leaving only three.

  Mahi swore. She could achieve her goals with three, but it would be a tight victory if one at all. Right now, however, she had one focus, to end this Current Eater before it ended her.

  With that thought lingering, a second head popped up behind her and slammed into the ship on the other side. Suddenly, she was caught between two Current Eaters like two dogs fighting over one bone, and she was the bone. The ship rocked back and forth and sent her stumbling toward the middle.

  She snatched up a ballista bolt before getting tossed away and used the momentum to bring her with force toward the first Current Eater. She jumped, letting the missile lead the way. It glanced the creature’s head, causing quite a large gash. It wouldn’t be enough. Her feet landed on the railing, and she teetered, trying to find balance. Before she could, her solar plexus was met by a wet, slapping tentacle. She skidded across the ship before a backward summersault allowed her to regain her footing.

  The Current Eater retreated, but she knew it wouldn’t be for long. She broke into a sprint, still carrying the missile. It was heavier than she’d expected.

  Waves swelled high, soaking the deck, but Mahraveh’s bare feet had no trouble on the blackwood deck. It felt natural. It felt like home.

  She reached the ballista, pushed the body off, and cranked the wheel until the string was taut. Then, placing the bolt in the slit, she rotated, aiming it at the second Current Eater. Its maw opened wide as it roared. Three tentacles, large enough to be monsters all on their own, ascended into the dark sky and slammed down with authority, breaking the deck in half.