Overkill

by Steven Shrewsbury

  She nodded. “You see? We’re not so different! You understand it well, this feeling to be better, and one my goddess couldn’t accomplish.”

  Gorias watched her hand work the gown open and then both of her hands spread her dress wide. The abbess dropped the gown and Gorias beheld the images tattooed on her body. From Niva’s knees, curled up her thighs, over her belly, curling about her breasts were the depictions of dragons, blue and red. Almost mirror images on either side of her body, their mouths and lips terminated at the nipples. Unlike artist’s imaginings Gorias’ had seen, these were more reptilian, finned and scaly…just like real dragons. The detail was high quality, for Gorias knew the number of wings on a red dragon was six, not two or four…and this rendering had it right.

  “Great work that Yannick does,” Gorias commented as he drew the oblong shape out from his canvas bag. “So, Yannick endows you with dragon fire, mystically placed in the images of the dragons, called forth from beyond with his magic. That comes at a heavy cost, ma’am.”

  Niva looked at his hand and saw the dragon-skinned object he held. She grinned. “The bastard in my belly was created by one of them. No loss that life, so the exchange was simple, a life for a life, but not mine. The lives of the men who wronged me were promised to the forces beyond along with their bastard.”

  “Which Castellan was the father?”

  Niva retorted, “Doesn’t matter. All of them could’ve been. They were all guilty in using me back then. They are men, typical hogs, and wanted no responsibility.” She leered at what he held. “You think that will save you, don’t you?”

  Gorias dropped the bag and held up his helmet, an object created from the hollowed-out skull of a wyrmling dragon and placed it over his head, securing it to the neck plates of his armor. The visor was still up as he said, “I’ve fought authentic dragons, sister, breathing fire and trying to crush my ass for jollies. Yer a jilted bitch with an attitude problem about her own goddess and her own failings. I’m not a horny castellan, out to get points in Heaven by screwing the Mother Superior of the temple, so I ain’t gonna go to a secluded tavern to get my ass roasted alive.”

  “What do you care?” she asked simply, no anger in her words. “You don’t like Yannick. You could care less about our territory, to be exact. All you yearn for is enough gold for your own whoring, La Gaul, or are the legends about you counterfeit? The great swordsman is also a lover of enormous capacity, yet spends no time to fall in love. He goes the easy route.”

  “Your judgment doesn’t amount to crap in a satchel to me, Niva,” Gorias said and put his visor down. “Deliverance will come.”

  Gorias disengaged his swords and Niva’s hands went to her bare hips. The lines of the tats glowed orange like the sunset. Her smile ceased as the areolas of her breasts glowed ginger and dragonfire sprang forth from her nipples. Gorias turned, placing a forearm over his face as the two jets of flame struck his frame. The liquidy fire saturated his body as he took a few steps toward Niva. As the fire continued to rage, Niva laughed, challenging La Gaul.

  Arms to his sides, Gorias’ new cloak fell in tatters, almost completely consumed by the dragonfire. Gold coins fell from the burning cloth, jingling on the stone floor. However, the fiery substance was repelled by his dragon-plated armor.

  “Let’s dance, sister,” Gorias roared, unsure if the woman spewing dragon flame could hear him or not. Swiping his swords, and advancing, Gorias met two new streams of the liquidy fire as they erupted from her bosom. She screamed, backing away, as Gorias pushed the streams off with his mysterious blades like a man would push through heavy bracken in a forest. The lines of dragonfire peeled off like dead snakes, but only coiled about the base of the statue, not burning out right away.

  Soon, it was clear what Gorias aimed for and Niva backed up, waving a hand to repel the attack. Niva stepped back again and aimed herself at the floor, bathing a soup of dragonfire on the slick flooring. The warrior waded through the fire. Gorias boots walked in the sloppy substance of the gelatinous inferno, but were not consumed.

  He swung his blades at her, but missed, although breaking off the lines of fire at her breasts.

  Niva’s hands clutched her breasts, mouth gaping in surprise, stunned that he came so close to maiming her. She ran around her goddess with the fluidity of one sliding on ice. “Come chase me, La Gaul.”

  Gorias stopped, looked up at the goddess and wished he had the strength to topple the giant idol. “Squishin’ yer ass would be too easy,” He muttered and took one step to follow her around the goddess, then instantly twirled about, blades striking the opposite sides of the goddess’ base. The blades passed through a new blast of dragonfire released by the Abbess. Her words filthy, she cursed him as she again used the goddess as a barrier.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” Gorias shouted. “Fool punks and bitches with that tripe.” He quickly placed his right sword back in the housing and leapt down from the main platform. He grabbed up one of the kneeling benches. His ears picked up the release of her fire as he turned and slung the bench. Niva aimed high, expecting the bench to be thrown at her face or upper body. Gorias aimed low, though, the bench falling and sliding to her feet. Niva hopped up to miss it and recognition lit up her face. Gorias charged at her, both blades swinging down, meaning to remove her arms when she landed. Her breasts fired off again, striking each arm of the charging warrior, propelling her but a few inches away, just far enough to be missed by his attack.

  She landed and moved back, but Gorias didn’t yield. Though pushed back a little, he charged on again, this time striking lower to mutilate her ankles. Niva turned, cartwheeled and again avoided the strikes from the blades; this time they knocked loose the gilded edges of the goddess’ base. Just as she settled and turned, trying to speak but short of breath, Gorias stopped, looked up and stabbed at the lower hem of Ernytel’s gown. The goddess’ stone edges cracked, dislodging a huge ball of glass containing dragonfire. Gorias dropped both swords and the echo of their clatter made Niva smile, but her happiness became muted as Gorias caught the falling ball and drew back.

  “You think I can’t handle it?” she screeched at him. “Go ahead and throw it.”

  He did. He lobbed it slow, not fast.

  Niva reached, then had to grab again, clutching the glass ball. Her face angry, perhaps getting that he didn’t mean to break it and figured she could handle such a blast. No, he occupied her hands and dived toward her. Niva held the ball as Gorias leapt and seemingly missed his target, sliding between her legs to the waist. She started to back up and raised the ball high to spike it on his spine. Gorias slid his arms back as she did so. Bathed in fire and not caring, he pulled his body back. In this act, Niva screamed, not from the fire, but from agony in her calves. She tried to walk but her left leg gave out. Her hand to the spot, she struggled in the flame to see and feel what happened. Gorias held aloft the dew nail of his armor on his forearm. In the flames and amid her cries, she could hear him laugh. He turned around in the fire and reached for his swords.

  Hands on his swords, Gorias twisted around and sliced many times in the air. The flames died some as he swung, shearing off four fingers of Niva’s left hand as the woman struggled to fend him off. She howled in misery, clutching the hand to her tattooed stomach, directing fresh jets of dragonfire to the floor, away from La Gaul. Funnels of flame whipped up, licking the stone garments of the goddess. Clearly, she wasn’t a trained fighter, Gorias reasoned, but one endowed with power for retribution.

  Looking up in terror, she saw that Gorias was on her, close. Both blades fell in overhand arcs, but neither found the exact mark they desired. Though he meant to remove her arms with the blows, his left sword struck her elbow and passed through. The right blade missed her shoulder and sliced halfway down Niva’s arm against the bones, ripping loose the biceps down to her elbow.

  Cursing the terrible aim of old age, Gorias stepped back once, took another round of stabbing dragon fire swirling at his gut and swished t
he blades, aiming for her neck. Again, he missed his target, but mutilated her collarbones, snapping each, turning them upwards like wishbones. She pushed away, her ruined legs flailing.

  Angry and weary of the dance, Gorias howled, striking home a third time. This double shot, straight forward, struck her sternum. His circular motions cut her breasts loose so they hung off at crude angles, but it was the act of driving the swords through and out her back that caused the screams to cease. Helm close to her face, her eyes filled with a strange look, almost like bliss, as he let Niva go. She fell at the feet of her goddess and died with one shudder.

  Gorias stepped out of the gooey dragonfire that started to eat away at the velvety ropes around the goddess. He raised his visor to breathe a bit better. Squinting his eyes, he saw Niva move.

  Slamming the helm down, he watched her body split apart. Niva’s ribcage rent open and each side of her flesh fell away, dropping into the empty ritual bath holding tanks. Still maintaining their complex images in the fire were the dragons, red and blue, as if outlines or crude cave wall renderings of such a species. On all fours, these beasts unfurled their wings and blinked at each other, taking cautious steps on their two dimensional claws.

  Unsure what nightmare would come from these beasts out of their human cell, Gorias sliced at them with his swords. The blades passed through them. This action only made the two creatures of light aware of his presence. The red dragon jumped on Gorias’ chest, knocking him back to the floor, swimming in a puddle of the oozing fire. Gorias felt the force of the beast, but couldn’t put his hands on it to eject it off his frame. Likewise, the creature was angry that it couldn’t affect La Gaul any more. It looked all over Gorias for a seam to exploit, but lost interest fast. Along with its brother fiend, it roared and flew up into the spires of the temple, spewing fire and braying.

  Retrieving his swords, Gorias holstered them and ran for the door. As the dragons in light-lined bodies kept screaming, the eunuch emerged to see what ailed the sanctuary. Gorias threw a forearm into his bulbous face and ran out the door. It took him moments to get to Traveler. Once in the saddle, Gorias rode for a three city blocks before he looked back.

  The heavy bricks of the temple, a newer structure for certain, gave way at the pressure of the freed dragons, whose mass increased to proportions larger than a horse. The grand shrine crumbled away, falling apart like a child’s game of blocks. Within the main sanctuary, around the placid stone goddess, great tornados of fire brewed hot. These wicked flames licked at the frame of Ernytel. Around the goddess’ blackened image arose a halo of fire that belched into the sky. In this circle of fire these winged ones emerged. Every so often, an explosion rocked the night, perhaps more dragonfire balls erupting at last in the storm. Two crazed screams echoed into the cosmos, as if falling into that void, forever, signaling their freedom.

  Gorias breathed deep, knowing his mission was at an end.

  Almost.

  *****

  “I wasn’t always a pirate, you know,” Nykia told Alena as the Princess of Transalpina turned in front of the long mirror.

  Alena leaned against the closed chamber door and nodded. “I know. I know all about your history and life.”

  Almost glowing in her new, resplendent long gown and powdered make-up, Nykia replied, “Do they sing stories about my abduction?”

  Alena pulled away from the door and slowly paced across the room. “I’ve never heard any. However, in class, on the history of our land, you are a footnote on the current royal family.” She unlatched the shutters and opened them, allowing more sunlight to pour in and bathe the princess.

  “They teach it in class?”

  Alena shrugged. “It added credence to your right to the line if that ever happened. There was more about Gorias La Gaul.”

  “I see.” Nykia’s hand soothed down her chest to her waist. “I could do without the corset.”

  “You don’t have to wear that all the time, but we need you in excellent form for the Queen and the public.”

  “I could do without the women dressing me.”

  Alena half smiled. “They are made for such duties and love their tasks. Enjoy their company, but be careful who you trust. They show up fast if you call on them, just like they lit out of here when we told them to go.”

  “How will I know who to trust?”

  “Ask me or my sisters. We will tell you.”

  “I can trust you?”

  Alena winked. “You have to. We are your life now. You are ours. If anything happened to you under my watch, my life would be forfeit fast. That is the way of Garnet’s will.”

  Nykia’s hands touched her stomach again. “I wonder if Ellis is accurate.”

  “Probably,” Alena shrugged and walked behind her to look in the mirror as well. “Gorias is what he is, but his ability and potency, heh, what a fortuitous development. It saves you the awful trouble of being pimped out to a punk or a surviving relic of the approved royal lines of other lands.”

  “Do you think Gorias will agree to be my consort and husband?”

  “He has little choice. Garnet won’t let him leave right off, and for appearances alone, I can see the ol’ boy going through the motions.”

  Nykia beamed, her freshly scrubbed teeth radiant.

  Alena added, “I’d also prepare to face the fact that he’ll soon ride out to Shynar, like he said. Gorias won’t sit still long and you have to face that.”

  “But if we are wed, can’t he stay?”

  “For a tough pirate girl, you sound like a mooning child at times.”

  Nykia turned and gave her a pouting look.

  Alena said, “I’m your servant but not your slave. I will tell you the truth and keep you honest. I won’t blow smoke up your skirts, ma’am.”

  Nykia nodded. “It’s better that way.”

  “I concur.”

  Nykia looked to the window. “We are awfully low to the ground here. I wonder what that glow in the night sky is?”

  “Who can say? This is a dressing room, usually locked, and we are on palace grounds. I doubt the pirates will abduct you here. In fact, I’d lay money on the idea that Garnet has had Thynnes exterminate every pirate hovel, tavern and outpost along the coasts. If you did have any friends or enemies, they are soon to be no more.”

  “That’s terrible. Was that necessary?”

  “Yes. That part of your life is over. We couldn’t destroy them all before for fear of killing you, the heir.”

  “What of Allard?”

  “I think they are offering a position as a groom or work at one of the ports. It’s better than banishment but not many trust pirates.”

  “You wouldn’t lie to me and just off Allard?”

  Alena let her right hand rest on her pouch, and then her index finger snapped it shut. “You need to fear other things now, like political intrigue, trouble with the temple and malicious wizards.”

  Nykia turned to face Alena. The tall warrior took a few steps toward her. “The wizards? I thought they were all dead or burnt.”

  Alena smiled wide and reached out her hand to caress Nykia’s right cheek. “Oh, in time, they’ll all burn.” Still wearing a smile, Alena reached out fast and shoved her right thumb in Nykia’s mouth. Her right hand quickly slid to the Princess’s throat and then gripped the back of her neck. Alena’s left hand shot forward, her index and middle fingers jabbing into Nykia’s mouth like darts.

  Confusion and terror in her face, Nykia’s hands gripped Alena’s shoulders, but she couldn’t kick back due to the hoop skirt about her legs. Although strong, she was no match for the Queen’s guard.

  Left hand squeezing Nykia’s nose and then her hands holding her neck, Alena said steadily, “Thus should it be for all enemies of the Queen.” The pressure in her hands increased until she felt a sufficient amount existed to break the capsules she’s shoved into Nykia’s throat. Alena then jumped back as the glow of the dragonfire erupted from Nykia’s mouth and nostrils, starting a flood of liqu
id fire that coursed all over the young lady’s body.

  In a few moments, it was over. The fire consumed Nykia and her smoking clothing fell in a heap. Not a single bone remained, just dust, and not a drop of blood existed of the princess.

  Alena opened the dress cabinet and took out a grappling hook. She walked to the window, secured the hook under the shelf and threw the rope out into the empty yard. Alena looked at the vacant lot and then at the wall just across toward the cottage of Yannick. She walked out of the room, glancing at the smoldering heap briefly. Alena then stepped to the door, closed it in front of herself, and dropped the bar over the frame. She pulled her short sword, inserted it under the bar and pulled back. Her knee beside the door, she cracked the bar and then threw it on the floor. She left the room, closed the door and promptly kicked it open, busting the latches.

  Alena screamed, “The Princess! By the gods! Sound the alarm!”

  EPILOGUE

  Queen Garnet ascended the steps of the curtain wall tower, a half dozen of her personal guards before her, a half dozen behind. Alena stepped beside her and let the aged monarch lean on her a few times.

  “They won’t strike the flames until I’m aloft,” Garnet called to the warriors jogging before her. “No need to hurry, ladies.”

  Alena kept her head down as she said, “Gorias will be off soon.”

  The Queen walked the many steps, every so often a male guard on the wall bowed. “I’m glad he signed off on the nuptials before doing so. That was mighty kind of the fighter.”

  “It’ll be proper that way and affirm all we’ve fought for.”

  “The old sinner, he’s a sport, no?”

  Alena let a sardonic smile play on her lips. “Yes, mum.”

  “Terrible business with Mavik and Vincent,” Garnet said under her breath.

  “Yes,” Alena agreed. “Orsen should be recognized for his gallantry in ferreting out these imposters, so close to seizing the crown of Transalpina.”