by Raven, C L
"The mirror fell and shattered," one goblin told Inga.
"Once those shards enter a human heart, it'll turn to ice. We'll rule them because nobody will care enough to stop us."
***
Ythan raised his sword and charged at Syra. She spun out of the way, struck his sword, and watched it sail out of his hand. She swept his legs away and pressed her sword tip to his throat.
"Surrender or I'll put a postage slot in your throat."
He scissored his legs, trapped hers and brought her down hard.
"Damn your long spider legs." She wriggled free. "You nearly broke my arse."
"It's so padded it's like landing on a bed of straw." He smiled, his purple eyes twinkling.
"At least I wasn't the inspiration behind Jack Skellington."
"True. You'd never inspire an amazing, successful character." She rammed her sword's haft into his ribs. "Ow!"
"I could stretch you across Lethe and use you as a tightrope to cross to the other side." She spread her arms, balancing on his legs up to his hips.
"Your arse's so round if it caught fire, the angels could fly you into the sky and use you as a second sun." He rose to his knees behind her. "I worship ye oh Sun Goddess!"
She flicked his ears and poked her tongue out. "Oh good. Your fan club's here. Surprised they haven't choreographed a tumbling routine that spells your name in fireworks."
Ythan glanced at the three girls watching from the sidelines. They looked quickly away and giggled, covering their mouths. He groaned then grabbed Syra's sword and held it to his heart. "Have mercy."
"I can't kill you. Not when they've gone to all that effort to wear as little clothing as possible. Wonder what frostbite of the boobs feels like. If they did this," she shimmied her shoulders, "would ice cubes float inside them?"
He laughed. "They can't help being clones of Queen Tyrannos. She's in every magazine as the epitome of beauty. 'Vicious whore' is this season's hottest look."
"If they ever got in a fight, one duck and their boobs would fly free, hitting them in the face." She imitated the action, stumbling backwards. "If they threw a kick in those skirts, the whole of Demetar would see their pearly gates."
"That's why you'll never grace magazine covers."
"I don't want to grace magazine covers. It'd ruin my prospects of becoming an assassin if we fail graduation. Smile, work your cheekbones, flash a bit of bicep."
"Stop pimping out my biceps." He crossed his arms over his black PVC sleeveless top.
Syra hauled Ythan up, dropped onto her back and tossed him over her head. His black cloak swirled around him. He rolled onto his feet, snatched up his sword and ran towards her. He planted his sword in the ground and swung around, flattening her with a two footed kick. His fan club cheered.
"One all."
"I let you do that so your ego could recover from its fatal injury." Syra spat dirt then jumped up.
"You dropped something." He squinted. "Is that your pride?" She laughed and threw a handful of dirt at him. He dropped to his knees, spreading his arms. "There can be only one!" He juddered.
"You know that doesn't actually take away my power."
He collapsed, his foot twitching. She kicked it.
"Ow! Something just pricked my eye."
"Tears from losing. Use your bonnet to dry your girly sobs."
He rolled onto his knees. "I feel really weird."
"You are really weird. That's why we're friends." He gasped, clutching his chest. She laughed. "Get up."
His face contorted and he collapsed, holding his chest and eye.
She knelt beside him and battered his hand from his eye. "There's nothing there you pussy."
He hit her hand away, grabbed his sword and strode off.
"Where are you going?"
"To practise with someone who knows how to fight."
"I'm the best fighter here!"
"Maybe I wanna spend time with a girl who actually acts like a girl instead of like a man in drag."
"A giggly damsel who loses the ability to do anything for herself the minute a man's around. 'I can't possibly lift this cup, I might break a nail'." She watched him walk away, feeling stung. "Screw you!" His fan club trailed him, nudging each other.
Ythan crunched through the snow, his footprints betraying his path. He pulled his hood up against the relentless blizzard. Galloping hooves thundered towards him. He turned, but everything was concealed beneath winter's shroud. Wind tugged his PVC trousers, slipping its frigid arms under his cloak.
Hooves.
He stopped. Blinding whiteness stared back. He shivered, cold spreading through his body like the plague.
He started walking, his legs heavy. Hooves stalked him. Sharp pain blossomed through his skull and he hit the ground. The last thing he saw was crimson crystals forming in the snow.
***
Syra paced the castle. The sky had swapped its white cloak for a black one and adorned it with thousands of jewels, topped with a glowing brooch.
"Have you seen Ythan?" She stopped two Warriors.
"He left the grounds," one replied.
Syra cursed. Leaving the grounds could be considered desertion. Deserters were hunted down and executed.
"It's freezing," the second one said. "If he hasn't found shelter, he's probably dead."
She shoved him against the wall, her dagger kissing his throat. "One more word and I'll cut out your tongue and use it to clean my sword. Got it?"
He nodded. She released him and the Warriors walked off, muttering 'psycho bitch' loud enough for her to hear.
She pulled on her warmest cloak and boots and headed for the battlements. She toured the castle, but only saw the unrelenting whiteness of snow melting into the blackness of the night.
She hurried inside to her chambers. Grabbing a bag, she packed it with food and extra weapons then ran to the door. A guard patrolled the corridor, his chain mail jingling with each clumping step. She closed her door and crossed to the window. As soon as the guard below rounded the corner, she climbed out. Finding hand and foot holds, she edged down. She jumped, pausing to see if the sound brought guards running. Nobody came. When she returned, she'd reprimand them for their lax security.
She adjusted her bag and ran for the woods, her footsteps painfully loud. She'd either attract the guards or the night creatures.
She wasn't sure which was worse.
She ducked low slung branches, wincing when an icy branch slapped her in the face. She didn't stop running until she reached a lake. It stretched through the woods, inviting people to bathe in its pearlescent beauty then punishing them when they accepted.
She removed a drawstring purse from her bag and tipped out a silver coin.
"Lethe, is Ythan dead?" She flicked the coin into the lake. It shimmered and brightened as it swallowed the coin before darkening like the devil's deepest pit. Water surged upwards, propelling the coin back to Syra. She caught it. A cold burn spread through her fingers, her veins glowing silver beneath her pale skin. She stared at her reflection, momentarily forgetting why she was there. She flung the coin, watching it skip along the water before plunging into the depths. Lethe glowed, blinding her.
"Is he dead?"
A ghostly sigh rippled through the water.
"No," it hissed. "But he lives in body only."
"He's a Revenant?" She drew her bow, whirling around to scan the woods for the reanimated corpses that were rumoured to haunt them. She fumbled another coin out and flung it into Lethe's blackened heart.
"Is he a Revenant?!"
"Only his soul rots."
Deranged groans caressed her ears. She raised her bow. A Revenant stumbled out of the forest. Her heart thundering inside her chest, she waited then released the arrow. It wedged in the Revenant's eye and he dropped. She warily approached him then wrenched the arrow out. Rancid gunk seeped from his eye socket.
She tiptoed through the woods, unsure if the moan she heard was the lamenting wind or th
e groans of the resurrected dead.
Branches snapped. She pivoted, her arrow poised for flight. This is what she'd spent the last thirteen years training for. Two Revenants lurched forwards. Her arrow shot past one and fell harmlessly to the ground. Cursing, she unsheathed her sword. They lumbered towards her, their opaque eyes hungry for her flesh. One grabbed her cloak, tugging it and grunting. She swung her sword, beheading them simultaneously. She was amazed how far their heads rolled. When they decapitated straw dummies, their heads didn't even bounce.
She stepped over their fallen bodies and retrieved her arrow. A female Revenant grabbed her from behind, her rotting fingers fumbling over Syra's body as she tried digging her jagged nails in. Syra drove her foot backwards into the Revenant's knee, hearing it snap. The Revenant shrieked. Syra elbowed her in the face, grimacing as gunk clung to her skin. She turned, slashing the Revenant's throat. Black gunge seeped from the wound before the Revenant slumped into the snow. Another Revenant staggered out from behind a tree. Syra ran, grabbed a branch and swung, kicking the Revenant in the face. As he fell, she dropped and severed his head. She scanned the ominous trees then pulled her cloak around her and melted into the shadows.
***
Rocks ripped Ythan's skin, flaying it from his body and offering his blood as a sacrifice to the hungry ground. His muffled cries were smothered by the horse's pounding hooves as it tore along the uneven terrain, dragging Ythan. The sky bounced and spun, the landscape gyrating in a way that wasn't healthy.
The horse slowed to a trot then stopped. Ythan rolled into its back hooves, earning a kick in the ribs. His shredded skin burned, raw with suffering. He saw a flash of purple then the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen crouched beside him. She stroked his face, her white hair tumbling over her shoulders and covering her breasts, which peeked over her tight violet dress. He winced as she removed his gag.
"You survived." She sounded much younger than she looked. "Do you know who I am?"
"My worst nightmare," he mumbled.
"Queen Tyrannos."
The most feared ruler of Demetar. Her ravishing beauty turned men into foolish puppets, willing to betray those closest to them for one fatal kiss.
"You're the reason girls have forgotten to wear clothes."
She smiled coyly, twisting her hair around her fingers then flicking it over her shoulders and leaning forwards so her breasts strained against her dress. He averted his gaze, worried if one sprung free, it'd break his nose like the boxing glove jack-in-a-box. She unfastened the ribbons on her bodice, the dress slipping from her shoulders.
"Wow, you have boobs. Just like every other woman."
"I want you," she whispered.
"No!" He wriggled away, the rope gnawing his wrists. "I'm only nineteen."
"Younger men are more...fun."
He sat up and backed into the horse. "Everyone from the Castle of Hykrew will be searching for me."
"They'll never find you." She grabbed his hair, her lilac lips caressing his and sealing his fate.
***
"Son of a bitch!"
Syra caught her foot in a rabbit warren and landed face down in the dirt, biting her tongue. A bird cawed, sounding like mocking laughter. She pushed her cloak out of her eyes and tried to stand. She trampled her long black satin skirt and face planted again. The bird laughed. She sat up, hitched her skirt above her knee high boots and rose, brushing twigs from her crimson corset and picking leaves from her raven hair. She turned around, coming face to face with a crow. It cawed sharply, flapping its wings.
"Were you laughing at me?"
"You tripped and fell on your face. Only those without souls wouldn't have laughed."
"You can talk?"
"You have no trouble accepting the concept of a talking lake but a talking crow is weird?"
"We're only allowed to leave the castle every other weekend, must be back before dark and go only to town. Which is in the opposite direction. Talking crows aren't part of the entertainment."
"Yet you're prowling the woods, bribing lakes and killing Revenants."
"My therapist thought I needed a hobby. I'm not the scrapbooking type. I've spent my life training for the day I leave the castle."
"They'll kill you if they catch you."
"Then I'll make sure they don't catch me. My friend's missing."
"He's worth risking your life for?"
"If you're not prepared to die for your friends, you don't deserve them."
"Would he die for you?"
Yesterday she would've answered 'yes' without hesitation. Tonight…"Have you seen him? Tall, slim but muscular, dark spiked hair, purple eyes, wearing black. He has a raven tattoo on his back."
The crow cocked his head. "Return to the castle."
"You've seen him haven't you?" She circled the tree as he hopped to a different branch.
"If they find you, they'll kill you and mount your head on a spike to welcome visitors."
"Beats a welcome mat. Where is he?"
"If you continue on this quest, be prepared for answers you don't want."
"Where is he?"
"Queen Tyrannos has him."
She stopped. "The Snow Queen?"
"Her horse dragged him to her palace. It's her captive's first test. If they survive, she deems them worthy enough to become her consort."
"You mean her sex slave." He cocked his head again. "Did he survive?"
The crow cawed and shook his feathers. "Yes."
"Shit! I mean, good. I have to rescue him!"
"You've already lost him."
"We're soul mates."
"The male of the species appreciates two things - sex and beauty. However if sex is on offer, he'll overlook a woman's physical flaws. Not only is Queen Tyrannos the most beautiful woman in Demetar, she'll drop her dress for any man she wants. What do you possibly have to entice him back?"
"A lifetime of friendship, a fantastic sense of humour and I kick his arse in fighting. We have fun. Failing that, I'll threaten to sell his autographed photo of The Power Rangers. He has such a man crush on Jason it's embarrassing."
"That counts for nothing if a pretty girl flashes him her sacred secret."
"I sincerely doubt he'd photograph some girl's secret garden, keep it in a frame by his bed and kiss it goodnight. I won't let him rot in some dungeon while some skanky whore abuses him."
"What makes you think he wants to be rescued?"
"Ythan would never go to her willingly. I won't let her rape him!"
"Queen Tyrannos has bewitched him. His life, his memories are gone."
"Which way to her palace?"
He extended his wing then cawed and flew away. Rage drove Syra on. How could Ythan fall under Queen Tyrannos' spell? He knew what a monster she was. He knew how much Syra hated women like her yet he allowed himself to be captivated by her. She hated the thought that he was just like every other guy. When she reached the Snow Queen's palace, she wouldn't hug Ythan, she'd kick him in the balls.
Rustling. She stopped. She was on a narrow path, flanked by jagged black mountains shaped like gruesome creatures. Goblin's Pass. She swore. She hadn't been paying attention and it was too late to retreat. Unsheathing her sword, she crept along, every sense alert. Goblin's Pass was known amongst the Warriors as Suicide Pass.
Many Warriors had taken this path, determined to claim the glory of crossing it.
Nobody had returned.
Their names were crudely carved into a wooden plaque hanging inside the castle door. The plaque was almost full. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved her flail. She let the weapon dangle by her side, hoping the chain didn't attract their attention.
Voices. She flattened herself against the mountain, holding her breath. They were above her. Stones cascaded, one striking her head. She bit her lip, blood trickling under her hairline.
Something sniffed loudly. Then she overheard a furious discussion but only understood one word - blood.
She whirled around and
backed away. Two goblins peered down at her.
"We've found dinner," one said.
"I wouldn't be very satisfying - I'm all bone and muscle."
"I like bones."
"I like muscles," the second one said.
"Well I like goblin pie," she retorted.
"No such thing."
"I ate it last night with vegetables and a goblet of wine."
"Nobody's eaten a goblin and survived. We regenerate then play havoc with your insides."
They leapt from the path, landing either side of her. She wasn't being killed by creatures half her size. She raised her sword. The one to her left imitated her. The other one held an axe.
"You Warriors have a strange way of greeting folk," the axe-brandishing goblin said. "Very violent."
The swords clashed. She back kicked the one with the axe, spun away and struck the sword-wielding one with the flail. It bounced off his head.
"That's not very polite!" He rubbed his head.
She blocked his attack then swept his legs from under him. He landed on his feet. The axe swooshed towards her. She twisted and blocked it. She twirled the flail and it wound around the axe haft. She yanked it out of the goblin's grasp then whacked the other goblin on the head with it.
While he was dazed, she knocked his sword out of his hand and caught it.
"Surrender or die."
"Goblins don't surrender," the one who lost the axe said. "They summon backup."
He whistled. The mountain shook as hundreds of goblins emerged from their hiding places, chattering excitedly about the mortal and making rock cakes.
"Aw crap."
"Seize her!" The Goblin Master commanded.
They obeyed. She dropped their weapons. The Goblin Master marched over, his armour clanking. He snatched her bag and rifled through it, taking her money, food and daggers.
"I'm Inga, the Goblin Master. What's your business here?"
"I'm passing through."