by Cebelius
Prada stopped another by billowing out and deflecting it, but another still managed to graze him before he could leap entirely out of range and the pain was intense in the moment before Prada blocked it out.
Even with all my advantages, she's just got too many limbs.
Then he was backpedaling, the bloody whip he'd conjured obviously useless.
"End my latest spell," he said in careful English as he wove and dodged, his enhanced senses able to keep track of Stheno's movements despite the fact that he was technically blind. Thankfully her tank-like body made her easy to read. She charged after him exclusively, ignoring the fires raging across her body and the arrows that rained down on her from on high.
'Combat time is extended another few minutes, but you will have to find another way to incapacitate her, Husband. Fighting this way is pointless for us.'
Terry grunted his acknowledgement as he slammed the blade of his ax between the eyes of a striking snake-head before twisting the haft to butt-stroke another, then flipping his hand around the handle to spin the ax into the path of a third strike as he lashed out with the Rod, catching one of Stheno's eyes and bursting it briefly before the head retracted and the eye healed.
He sensed the damage being done to her simply undoing itself with a speed that was impossible to ignore.
Asturial apparently changed tactics, because as the next several heads came in they bounced away from a barrier that Terry couldn't sense before they reached him.
That was apparently enough to get Stheno's attention, and she turned all of her focus on the dragon proxy, charging her at a lumbering gallop.
Terry turned to intercept, only to bounce off the same invisible barrier.
"You'd better think of something fast, Terrence!" Asturial cried. "Time is the only thing I can give you now!"
Asturial vanished from his tremor sense, but in the following seconds several of the heads took grievous damage and a few fell away entirely before the dragon abruptly reappeared in his perception as she was slammed into the earth.
A bare second later, Stheno trampled her underfoot. What she left behind was broken and still.
As she turned her attention back to Terry — heads already reattached — he heard Euryale scream, "She's too big! We can't do anything to her! Run Master! We have to get away before she overpowers you!"
'Fighting IS proving completely futile. Unless you have an alternative we should retreat, Husband. We can regroup perhaps, think of a better plan.'
She'll chase us down, and if we get away she'll run down the wagon. It's do or die, Prada. We have to find a way.
Then things went from bad to worse.
Stheno spoke in a language unlike any Terry had ever heard, and a second later he felt Euryale impact the earth, her body unnaturally stiff and unmoving.
"My sister chose to play with bows and arrows. I prefer the sword, but I have not wasted the time since we parted," Stheno hissed.
"I dislike using magic, but I cannot fly and my sister's arrows are — if nothing else — annoying. It is down to you and I now, Terry Mack. Don't worry though. I'll make this last. I am inured to pain of all kinds. You, I suspect, have a thing or two left to learn there. I'll be happy to instruct you, and don't worry. When this is over, I will drag Euryale back with me. Given time, I am certain she will learn her proper place is at my side."
Terry smiled and backpedaled as he said with genuine amazement, "Stheno? You're brilliant, you know that? Absolutely fucking brilliant! I admit I was completely wrong."
She paused, her heads spreading out a bit as she considered him with an air of uncertain incredulity that came through clearly, even with nothing but her pulse to show her features.
Terry tossed his ax away and clasped the Rod of the Heart with both hands as he intoned, "Let my power be made manifest in a tendril of blood, and let its touch inflict my greatest pleasure upon my enemies.
"End all other spells in favor of my latest, and let all my bonds contribute to its power."
He shrank almost instantly, and felt weakness flood through him as he fell to earth. Even without his magic though, he had enough agility to land on and keep his feet.
He could feel Prada within him, her joy and anticipation almost painfully intense as she purred within his mind, 'Ooh Husband, yessss ...'
He straightened, planting the Rod of the Heart firmly on the ground in front of him and holding it with both hands as he asked Stheno, "You ready to take on my last ditch effort?"
"Pain again? You modern humans suffer from a chronic lack of imagination. I submit willingly just to enhance your despair."
She stopped in front of him, lowered her head and with it hissed, "Do it. I look forward to showing you what real pain feels like."
"Maybe. At the very least, I have to admit I was wrong about how much I thought you'd enjoy this fight," he said with a smile, and directed his lash to touch her gently on the snout.
He felt the energy he had gathered surge out of him in a concentrated wave that suffused the body of his enemy.
Stheno reared onto her hind legs and her serpentine heads arched in all directions as the most powerful orgasm of her long, long life tore a myriad scream from all her heads.
Terry only heard the first moments of that terrible sound, because his eardrums ruptured almost instantly and he sagged to his knees as the pain made his world tilt.
He only dimly felt Stheno topple over backward, twitching errantly in both limb and head, utterly insensate.
Prada blocked his pain and his head cleared in time for him to sense Baba Yaga. She landed gently next to the recumbent monster, and touched her with the doll as she rambled her spell in a language Terry couldn't place.
A few moments later, Stheno's pulsing heartbeat stopped.
Congratulations, Husband. I would be willing to bet that you just perpetrated the biggest cheat in the history of sex.
He laughed wearily, first sitting, then laying down and letting his arms splay out to either side. He was tired right down to his soul, but satisfied.
He murmured, "Hopefully God'll forgive me."
Terry was more tired than he ever remembered being, but something in the back of his mind nagged him, and just before he lost himself to slumber, he asked, "Is Euryale up?"
"No, Husband."
"Go get the mask off Asturial's proxy ... put it on Euryale ... before the others get back."
She left him to do as he instructed, and he was asleep before she returned.
32
Croatoan
They had been easily a mile from the battle with Stheno when it ended, but her scream had been enough to panic the horses, and Shy had been thrown from her mount.
She had learned to ride hundreds of years ago, but that did not mean she had mastered the skill.
Like so many other things, I let my riding skills languish, she thought as she got painfully back to her feet.
Mila caught and brought the horse back to her, while Yuri managed to calm the horses in their traces before they hurt themselves. Two other horses had been tethered to the back of the wagon and snapped their leads. By the time Shy's horse had been caught, the others were long gone.
They returned to the scene of the battle, and Shy moved quickly to where Terry lay on the ground.
He was no longer a giant, and as she reached him she saw that he was fast asleep, laying atop Prada's pillowy ruby substance. She was relieved to see that he seemed almost completely uninjured, though she noticed angry weals on his right hand and what looked almost like a burn on his right side, still visible through a tear in his clothing.
"Laina's milk was not enough to entirely heal his injuries," Prada said as Shy knelt next to them. "I was able to purge the poison, but the damage it does externally will take me more time to repair."
As she resisted the urge to glance toward the corpse, Shy asked, "Just to be certain, is it safe to look at her?"
"Stheno? Oh yes. As I understand it, her soul is cursed. The body
is just meat without it. Baba Yaga has already secured the vessel inside her hut. All is well."
"Can you tell me why he is so subdued?" Shy asked. She reached out and set a hand on Prada, felt her cool substance underneath her palm and marveled — not for the first time — at how such a creature could become so integral to her life.
"Without going into too much detail, he has accepted something about himself that he long suspected, and it has taken much of the joy from him."
"Prada, you must tell me."
For a moment, Prada did not speak. Shy was just about to insist when the sanguine devil surprised her with an answer. "He now knows himself for a killer, if not a murderer. Yuri explained his role as the leader of this expedition, and he understands the argument, but has yet to internalize it."
Isthil knelt next to Shy, reached out, and touched his forehead, then withdrew her hand. "No dreams. He's in deep sleep right now."
Prada said, "His magic was entirely expended. I was forced to sacrifice some of my size to maintain him, but this time, not much. He will recover quickly provided he is allowed to rest. Right now I am keeping him from sensing us in any fashion. He will not wake."
Shy looked to Isthil and asked, "What is your intention?"
The Nightmare glanced up, her silver eyes luminous in the gloaming. The sun was down, but the sky was clear and its last rays had yet to fade. She glanced down at Tee and said, "I'd like to stay. I dinnae know if he'd ever bond with me proper-like, but even so. I like him, like you. This camaraderie ye all share ... it's nice."
"Shy! I could use your help!"
Mila's cry distracted her, but as she stood she glanced down at Isthil and said, "I don't think Tee will have any problems with you staying. I know him well, and he doesn't forget the debts he owes. You've done far more for him than he would ever ask."
Isthil didn't answer, and Shy went to Mila, who stood over the prone form of Euryale with a frown on her face.
"The spell that holds her has its own reserves, and they are considerable. I would like you to help me with the counter-spell."
"Of course."
Shy stood behind Mila and gently set the ball of the Rod of Arcs between the other woman's shoulders. She focused, and sent mana coursing through it and into Mila, who sucked in a sharp breath as she received it, and then began to cast.
Her spell was successful. Less than a minute later Euryale was back on her feet and stalking purposefully toward the body of her now gargantuan sister.
Shy looked after her and — sensing her dire intent — said, "Ask Tee first, love. I think he will want to do something with the body."
The gorgon stopped, then stomped in irritation as she turned around and said, "Fine. What about the wolf?"
"The wolf?"
"Master told her to run, but she only went over the hill and stopped to wait. When I flew, she met my gaze. Stupid bitch."
Shy hid her smile as she realized that Euryale was deferring to her, and asked gently, "How many doses of your potion do you have left?"
"Two. I used one of the three I kept on Isthil."
"Since you will not be using the last, why not free her? She did warn us, after all. It would be considerate."
"I'm not considerate. As it is I hate the fact that I don't have enough for everybody if something bad happens with ... me."
Euryale actually shuffled her feet a bit before she looked up at Shy and said, "I don't want to waste one on someone we don't even know. It's not like we could use anyone so weak."
Shy thought for a moment, considering what Tee would say. Then she made the obvious choice. "Free her. It's what he would want."
"Yeah, I figured. Shit."
Euryale leapt into the air, flapping powerfully, and disappeared over one of the rolling hills to the west.
Glancing around, Shy saw Halla sat cross-legged next to Tee, and Laina was with her. The chicken-legged hut was squatting nearby, and she presumed Baba Yaga would be inside. Asturial was alive but unconscious in the back of the wagon, which only left ...
"Where is Yuri?" Shy asked, glancing at Mila, who tipped her head up toward the village as she said, "My brother has gone to see what there is to see. Now that all here is settled, I must join him."
"There were only two horses saddled and Yuri took one. I hope you don't mind riding double?"
Mila's ear flickered and she turned in surprise. "You want to come?"
"Of course. We are family."
Mila grimaced, glancing back toward the others as she lowered her voice a bit and said, "Fine ... but only you. I do not want ... others to see. Not at first. I do not know how my brother will take it."
Shy nodded, and the two of them mounted and rode away. Isthil noticed, but Shy waved to indicate they should stay, and the nightmare simply nodded, returning her attention to the conversation going on around Terry.
The ride to the village was short and silent.
When they arrived, Shy saw that the tiger folk lived in yurts similar to those used by the tauren, but there were also several buildings constructed of rough-mortared stone and thatched with grass.
She also noticed a distinct lack of bodies.
Did Stheno move them somewhere?
"Where are the bodies?" Mila asked, her thoughts apparently mirroring Shy's own. "Did she eat them?"
They found Yuri's horse hitched before the largest of the stone structures, and dismounted next to it. The building was perhaps fifty feet wide and looked to be at least twice that long. Each corner was buttressed by a tower of stone and the front right tower supported a bell on wooden supports. The windows were slits in the stone, and the entire thing was obviously constructed to be a place of last resort.
Both the portcullis before it and the heavy wooden door were open, and Mila entered with Shy following closely behind. Both women had their staves out, ready for anything.
The inside was largely open space, though movable barricades were arranged in rows to either side of a central aisle that went straight to the back of the hall. There, a heavy stone block sat atop a small dais of rough-mortared stone, and Yuri knelt in front of this, looking at something Shy couldn't make out from where she stood.
"Brother!"
Yuri didn't move, nor respond in any way to Mila's call, and she raced toward him with Shy following close behind.
When she arrived, Mila was kneeling next to her brother, her attention entirely taken up by what turned out to be a scroll, unrolled in Yuri's hands.
The writing upon it was neat and easily legible, and over their shoulders, Shy read:
Let my death be the final lesson I teach you, Yuri Kolenko. It is always better to allow truth to guide your action, than illuminate your regret.
A chieftain must be advised, never manipulated, but above all he must never shirk his duty.
The people are safe in the mountains to the southeast as they await your return. They may be a weak and foolish people, but they are still my kith and kin. Find them, and claim your rightful place.
To whomsoever should read this, be it in the hands of Yuri Kolenko, the bearer of this scroll is chieftain by right of trial.
He will lead well, and wisely.
By my hand and seal, I am
Vladimir Ivanov
The Dreamer
Centered below his signature was a black wax impression of a roaring saber-toothed tiger's head.
"So everyone is alive," Shy said in relief.
"Yes," Yuri said in a voice barely above a whisper. "Vlad saw to it. He saw to everything."
"Do not mistake what he has done, Brother," Mila said as she laid her staff aside and wrapped her arms around Yuri. She set her cheek to his back and murmured, "There are other ways to teach these lessons. He was brutal, cruel, and he killed five others — including Boris and Pyotr — any one of whom would have served our tribe well and faithfully. He is only less evil than we thought him."
"We said we would not speak of them," Yuri said.
"It is over. Now
we can grieve, and know that no more evil will be done to us ... to our family. At least, not from him."
"He chose me," Yuri whispered hoarsely. "When I was four and he cast my bones, he said to me, 'You will be chief, and realize your destiny in battle.' If I had taken the quest when it was first offered, none of the others would have died."
Mila blinked, lifted her head away, and stared at the back of her brother's head as he slowly rolled the scroll and put it back in a white bone case that had been set aside.
"You never said-" she began, but Yuri interrupted her.
"Of course I never said. I did not want to be chief. I wanted to be a monster hunter like my father. Why would I tell anyone else?"
Mila slowly disengaged from her brother, and her voice was dangerously soft. "Yuri?"
He turned to look at her, and she backhanded him so hard that he was thrown off balance and slammed head-first into the heavy stone block he'd been kneeling next to. Then she stood, and strode away.
Yuri righted himself, his ears flat with shame as he looked down at the scrollcase in his hands, ignoring the blood dripping down the side of his face from multiple gashes. Shy realized that with Mila's backward hands, she hadn't actually back-handed him. She'd slapped him ... with claws exposed.
"What will you do?" Shy asked, her voice gentle and soft.
Yuri glanced back at her, sighed, and said, "I will go and find my people. What else?"
"To bring them home?" she asked.
Yuri shook his head, his hands twisting in opposite directions around the scrollcase.
"I owe Terry Mack, and his cause is just," he said quietly. "He brought me home to face my destiny. Now I must take him to the Dust Lord, and my people to war."
He hesitated, and his voice was barely above a whisper as he added, "Just like Vlad said I would. Ours are not a peaceful people by nature, Shy Willow. My uncle, and his father before him worked hard to keep the peace that I will destroy."
Both of them paused, turning to look toward the door.
Outside — her wordless cry filled with agony and rage — Mila was screaming.