Destiny: A Fantasy Collection

by Rachelle Mills

  Lydia put her hand over her eyes with a groan. The feast would be a pile of food and a pile of bodies. It wasn’t that she was shy or that she wasn’t fully aware of all the things that people could do together. She fully supported people enjoying themselves, and she wasn’t a prude herself, by any means. She was no stranger to sex or having fun, even if she wasn’t prone to fits of excess.

  “Great. Just great, Tim,” Lydia mumbled sarcastically. “Can I go back to my cell now?”

  Laughing at her duress, Tim pushed through a large door, and she followed. Suddenly, she felt fresh air on her face—outside air—for the first time since coming to Under.

  It felt amazing, a real breeze of fresh air. Lydia hadn’t realized how claustrophobic she had been feeling until right then. Tim was trying to drag her forward, but she yanked her arm out of his grasp and took a step to the side, needing some distance from him. For a moment, for a brief instant of time, she stared agog at the world in front of her. She had only been indoors until now. For the first time, she saw this world of Under.

  What she saw was beautiful.

  Full of the sharp contrast between light and dark, it took her a moment to realize she was looking at a courtyard, sharply lit by the turquoise moon above. It cast stark shadows of each cobblestone of a large courtyard in front of her.

  She was standing on a series of steps leading up to the door. On the other side of the courtyard was a row of trees that looked like an ancient forest, trees with old and twisting limbs that wound around each other, too dark to see much in the dim lighting. Above her was the moon in all its blue-green glory—and sure enough, there were no stars around it, nothing to hint of a universe beyond this world.

  “C’mon,” Tim tried to coax but didn’t grab her. He was a few steps down from the landing and gestured for her to follow him. “I know. I know this is a lot. But please. We can’t be late.”

  Snapping back into the moment, she realized there was indeed a carriage in the courtyard. At the head of the wagon were two—well, she assumed they were supposed to be horses if you had crossbred one with a cricket. They held the body shape of a horse but had an exoskeleton instead of fur. Jagged, sharp plates of what almost looked like armor layered on top of each other in hinges and trailed backward. Two large horns rose from their heads, jagged and curling in long spirals behind them.

  Their eyes were those of an insect, though, faceted and strange. One clonked its hoof into the ground and tossed its head, cracking its horns against its back in impatience. Their back legs bent the wrong way entirely and were far too large, just like a bug’s.

  Lydia hadn’t realized she had taken a step back until Tim’s hand was on her wrist, holding her in place. “You’re okay, doll. They’re harmless, just like horses.”

  They weren’t any weirder than that graspling she had met, Lydia tried to remind herself. But still, she couldn’t relax her shoulders—or anything else—as she walked down the stairs with Tim toward the carriage. Okay. Bug-horses. Weird, horned, evil, armored bug-horses. That used to be people. That probably ate people, because everything in Under was a carnivore. No problem. She kept talking to herself in her mind, trying to convince herself she was not about to die.

  It wasn’t really working.

  ***

  To Edu, there was no greater release than feeling the life exit the body of a fallen opponent.

  Edu dug his sword deep through the chest cavity of his foe, pinning the corpse of his opponent to the ground. He drove his blade deep into the dirt and twisted it, feeling the resistance of the packed surface beneath the flesh, more than the bone itself.

  The woman who lay at his feet was one of his own house. A fierce creature who had sought to face him in battle for many years now. Edu was immensely proud of her.

  Edu yanked the sword from her ribcage, sending a spray of crimson blood across the packed dirt of the Colosseum floor. The crowd hollered and cheered, applauding the violence more than his victory. Edu was undefeated in battle, after all. None were expected to do otherwise. What was to be celebrated was how long and how well a challenger might stand against him.

  Edu saluted his adversary, pounding his gauntleted fist to his chest. The crowd cheered, celebrating the pageantry. The freedom. The gore.

  Rumor would already have flown of Aon’s imminent return. Yet none knew—save himself and Ylena, who was privy to his thoughts—that he intended not to return to his own crypt in exchange, as was custom.

  It could spark a war, his contempt of the agreement between him and Aon. But he could not return to his crypt and abandon the mystery of the human who had been cast from the blood of the Ancients unchanged. He could not leave it to Aon to bend such developments to his whim and use it for his own personal gain.

  Edu turned from his dead opponent and stalked from the stage of the Colosseum without any further ado. He had a need for his armor to be removed and scrubbed of the blood that now dripped from his breastplate in small dabs as he walked. There was another chance this evening for him to drown his troubles, if not in alcohol, as his compatriots would, then in flesh.

  “You must not trouble so,” Ylena said to him silently as he walked into the antechamber outside the main floor of the battleground. His squires were already attending to him, unclipping the massive hunks of armor from his shoulders and undoing the series of straps and buckles it took to secure it all together.

  “And how am I not? Aon wakes within the week. He will usurp my throne—”

  “Such as was agreed, my lord.”

  “He will usurp my throne,” Edu said again angrily. Never would he truly accept this treaty of his with Aon. He knew the warlock felt the same. “And whatever secret behind the girl he will use to his own ends!”

  “Such is his right.”

  “I should kill her before he has a chance,” he replied and clenched his fist. It was free of the metal gauntlet he had worn a moment earlier, and he was happy to feel his own nails press into his palm.

  “The council agreed.”

  “Damn the council.”

  “Be wary, my lord. Our world has been left unchanged and predictable in all ways since The Great War. Our world is dying, my king. She is the first anomaly we have seen since those days. I would not snuff her out of spite alone.”

  “Spite?” Edu clenched both fists and lowered his head. “I seek to save this world from what Aon may do!”

  “She may be the key to our survival. You may yet see Under destroyed in keeping her from Aon.” Ylena’s words were the truth. While she did not view the future as Ziza might, Ylena saw Edu’s mind as clearly as one might look through a pane of glass.

  Their world was dying. With every day that passed, it was found shrinking and fading slowly to black, disappearing into the void. Even as their world aligned with the world of Earth, and they took souls as they were granted, nothing changed. Nothing was unexpected. Not until the mortal girl arrived. Not until Lydia was cast into the blood and was refused.

  It was this potential that Edu would not let fall into Aon’s hands. Not while Edu slept, ignorant and absolved in his crypt. Edu would speak to the girl. Learn of her dealings with the warlock. Tomorrow, the council would vote on what to do with the girl. Tomorrow, she would die.

  He did not enjoy the thought of needless permanent death. Even if it was a mortal such as her. She had shown such potential—such spirit. It saddened Edu that Lydia would not come to join the fabric of their world.

  Tonight, he would meet with the girl. He would have from her all she knew of her condition. And if not that, then perhaps he could find another way to fill her evening.

  ***

  Thank god for alcohol.

  Lydia was at a long beer hall-style table with benches and tables set into rows. The place was enormous, with vaulted ceilings in thatched straw spanning between whole debarked trees that were used to support the giant structure. Hundreds of people were grouped around tables, laughing and chatting. They all had symbols and masks o
f six different colors like Tim had told her. Music was being played by several people at once in various places. Someone had a lute, someone had a guitar, and a group of people were singing a shanty over by one section of the room.

  The tournament had been in a massive, Roman Colosseum-style stadium, where contenders had fought to the death in matches. Every time someone was about to die, she had to bury her head in her hands. Tim had laughed at her and found her chagrin incredibly amusing.

  Speaking of, it seemed like Tim was back for a second helping of her discomfort.

  “Better slow down, doll,” Tim said with a grin as he sat on the bench next to her.

  “Go away, Tim,” she muttered and looked down into her glass of wine. “I’d like to go back to my dinky jail cell now.”

  “Aren’t you having fun?”

  “Seriously?”

  Tim laughed again, louder this time. “You’re all right, kid. Sorry, I didn’t come here to chat. Edu wants to see you.”

  Lydia groaned and lowered her head. This wasn’t going to go well. No matter what.

  Tim stood, and his movement made her raise her head to look at him. He gestured for her to follow him again. With a long breath, she pushed herself up from the table. She nearly caught her dress on the corner of the bench she was sitting on. She wasn’t used to wearing things with skirts, and the long, gray, lace-up number she had been given to wear was a far cry from anything she’d typically ever pick out of a rack.

  In the shadows of the room, she could see figures hunched in the darkness, enjoying themselves. Many of them in groups. Well, Tim hadn’t been kidding. She tried to think about a world where nobody could die, nobody could get pregnant or sick. Where society didn’t lecture them about how that kind of thing was immoral and wrong. Without all of that, and with an eternity of life stretching out in front of them, she could see why pleasure of any kind would become important. When your world didn’t change, and you couldn’t die or raise a family, what else was there? Boredom?

  Of course, everyone was drunk. Of course, everyone loved violence and sex. It didn’t matter. There was none of the fallout to worry over. Tim and Lydia had to step around a couple who were nearly naked. The man had the woman’s legs around his waist, and she was pinned to the wood beam of the hall by his impatient, passionate thrusts.

  Lydia averted her eyes and couldn’t help but feel her face go warm in a blush. She wasn’t a prude, but she’d never just walked past two people casually screwing. Her college experience hadn’t been like that; she went to med school. People were too busy studying. Or maybe she went to the wrong parties.

  Tim brought her through a door at the end of the room that went to a smaller chamber. She took one step through it, saw what was in front of her, and immediately turned around and faced the wall.

  Holy shit.

  It took Lydia a long time to work up the nerve to turn back around to face forward. Tim was cracking up laughing hysterically next to her, nearly doubled over, his hands resting on his thighs. Her face was likely fourteen shades of crimson. To his credit, Tim had tried to warn her. Sex was not taboo here. Therefore, it was on full display. She did her best to ignore the writhing bodies that hung around the edges of the room on piles of pillows or up against the walls. It had been what was in the center of the room that had made her “nope out.”

  Edu was lying there on a large circular platform that was covered in pillows. It had a headboard, and he was propped up against it. The man was completely naked except for his mask, and it was the first time she had seen him without his armor.

  The mask was the only reason she knew it was him, with its deep crimson, dragon-like skull. He didn’t have a helmet on, so his horns were gone, but the face was the same. He had the appearance of a bodybuilder or a professional wrestler. His entire body was covered in red ink markings and scars.

  Two women were…well, enjoying him. Their nude bodies were writhing over his in complete abandon. Lydia looked at the ceiling, quickly decided that looking up was the only safe bet. Her face felt on fire. Tim was still snickering desperately from her side, enjoying her embarrassment.

  “Shut up, Tim,” she grumbled at him.

  That only made him laugh harder. “I mean, if Edu’s too intimidating to start with, I’m nothing to sneeze at, but I’d be glad to warm you up for him,” he teased. She was sure his proposition was just as sincere as it was meant to goad her.

  That, she could react to. She turned to look at Tim, balled up her fist, and punched him hard in the arm. He let out a yelp and grabbed the afflicted spot. It was more out of surprise than pain, she was sure. His startled expression bloomed into a grin, as if he was glad she fought back. “Oh, you’re a fighter, huh? I can get on board with that. C’mere, baby. Give us a kiss.”

  “Fuck off, Tim, or I swear to god I’ll—”

  “Lord Edu requests you bring her forward.”

  Lydia knew that voice. She turned her head and desperately tried to avoid looking at the two women who were fawning over Edu’s prone body. Standing by the side of the platform was a woman in a long, red dress with straight black hair and a mask that covered the upper half of her face. She had been there on the streets of Boston when Edu had first chased her and Nick.

  Lydia found the ability to step forward and tried very, very hard not to watch the two nude women as they were lavishing Edu’s massive body—all of it—with hungry mouths.

  “These two were taken in the Ceremony of the Fall yesterday, with your friend Nicholas,” the woman in red said. Something told Lydia the woman’s words weren’t totally her own. Add it to the list of weird shit she had seen in the past few days. “They have accepted their place. They have come to embrace their king with joy.”

  “Good for them,” Lydia mumbled, unable to swallow the snarky response to the rather pompous explanation of the display going on in front of her.

  “He invites you to join them.”

  “Is Nick okay?” Lydia ignored his offer entirely and fought the urge to run for the door.

  Edu snorted once, seemingly annoyed that she preferred to worry over her friend than to climb onto the bed.

  “Your friend has Fallen to the House of Moons, with the shifters. He is more than okay.” The woman in red paused and seemed to listen to something. “Master Edu desires your company this evening. Will you oblige him?”

  “No. I’m not going to have sex with him to save my life.”

  “It has nothing to do with saving your life. He thought perhaps you would merely like to enjoy your evening as his guest.”

  Lydia put her hands over her face and laughed, mentally exhausted by everything and everyone she had met. “No, thank you.”

  “Would you rather lay with the warlock?”

  Lydia couldn’t help but look up at Edu in wide-eyed shock. When the man let out a long sigh and pushed the women gently off him, she knew she had played right into his hand. Lydia was forced to step backward as Edu stood before her.

  Even without his armor, he was huge. He must have been seven feet tall or more and broad as a truck. The man was all stacked muscle. His arms and his chest were marked with scars mingled with rows of the esoteric red writing. Edu had the body of a man who used it for a purpose, not just for show. He had long, curly, auburn brown hair. It fell along the sides of his crimson mask in waves.

  Lydia didn’t dare look down. She’d seen enough to know he was to scale. She didn’t need more proof.

  “It is no use lying. How do you know of Aon?” the woman in red asked.

  “He…” Oh, god. Well, here goes nothing. Or everything. “He shows up in my dreams. Threatens me, taunts me. This last time, I—he tortured me.” Lydia felt herself go pale at the memory of Aon’s claw buried into her ribs. Lydia pressed a hand to her side reflexively.

  “Why?” the woman asked. For Edu, she was beginning to suspect. Edu had yet to say a word.

  “I was stupid and opened my fat mouth and said something I shouldn’t have,” Lydia admi
tted, staring directly ahead into Edu’s massive chest. The markings on his chest were winding and cryptic. They matched the marks she had seen on people’s faces or arms. But Edu had a great deal more than anyone else Lydia had seen so far. He was a king, and marks equaled power, she remembered.

  Edu chuckled. It was a low, deep sound, and not unpleasant.

  Lydia jumped, startled, as he put a hand on her shoulder, his large palm resting suddenly against where it joined her neck. His touch was hot, and he curled his fingers around behind her. His thumb rested against her jawline, and she felt the pad run along her in a slow line. It was rough, raspy—calloused, but not harsh.

  Lydia turned her head away from his touch, but he raised his other hand to rest against her jaw on the other side, catching her head in his grasp. He tilted her head to look up at the visage of his mask and tilted his own head slightly to one side. Lydia wanted to pull away, but the man could likely end her in a gesture if she pissed him off.

  “You say you have no dealings with the warlock? That it is not a willing arrangement between you two?”

  “Have you met him? Fuck no,” Lydia swore reflexively. That brought a louder laugh out of Edu, dashing any of Lydia’s concerns about speaking out of turn. “He shows up in my dreams, chases me around, taunts me with that damn claw of his. I just…I just want to go home.”

  “Master Edu apologizes that he cannot grant such a wish.” The lady in red spoke again. Lydia winced and shut her eyes. One of Edu’s large hands lifted from her face to stroke her hair. “He asks again if you will join him this evening. Master Edu respects and appreciates the strength that burns within you. Your time here in Under has been nothing but suffering. He wishes to impart some joy and pleasure into it.”

  “I’m sure it’s a great honor to sleep with a king, but—”

  “He has no intention of sleeping,” the woman in red interjected.

  If Lydia could blush harder, she was. “Right, well, okay, to screw a king, then. But…I’d rather not, sorry.”