“What’s an archangel?”
Lyon blinked, and then remembered she came from another world. “I will give you an unabashed simplification, as they are symbols used in religion, and any such topic is fraught with disagreements.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough.”
“An angel is a being of pure light. A blessed creature of faith. Often depicted with wings, they are seen as largely benevolent creatures. When they are not, it is because they have been tasked by God to be so.”
Ember frowned. “Rxa didn’t seem so angelic to me.”
“I fear what death has done to him.”
“I used to wish that Ash would come back. Now that I see what I was praying for, I don’t think I would want that for anyone.”
Lyon smiled thoughtfully at the young woman. “Then you are wise, Miss Em—”
He never finished his sentence. Instead, his words ended in a grunt as something tackled him from the back of his horse, sending him crashing painfully to the ground with the weight of his attacker on top of him.
Ember shouted.
Things happened abruptly in Under, Ember decided. She was used to things going from “fine” to “catastrophe” in a split second, but those chaotic moments were usually a bit more spaced out on the calendar than they were in this new world.
One second, she had been talking to Lyon and listening to his story. She was desperately trying to piece together more of the puzzle that was Under, its people, and the tormented creature that had accosted her twice in the city.
The next second, something hurtled from the darkness, tackled Lyon from his horse, and was now pinning him to the dirt.
She leapt from Cricket, drawing her new knife as she landed. Running at the figure perched atop the King of Blood, she swung the blade for their head. The blow never landed. She didn’t even reach halfway through the arc of her swing before something grabbed her.
The figure was fast, whatever it was. They snatched her by the front of her coat and threw her like she weighed nothing. The world upended. Ember could only squeak in surprise as the ground and sky switched places once, twice, and then came to a sudden halt as gravity took over.
She groaned into the grass where she had landed. At least it was softer than the packed dirt of the road.
“And what’s this?”
Ember scrambled up, struggling to regain her footing. When she managed to figure out which way was pointed where, she finally got a good look at whoever, or whatever, had attacked them.
It was a woman.
She was nearly naked, wearing little more than an assortment of chains, jewelry, and scraps of fabric across her body. A tail—a literal tail, like that of a cat—swished behind her. She wore a wooden mask that covered her temple and forehead, looking more like the crown of some ancient people than a mask. Horns arced up from her mass of braided and adorned hair, curling behind her head.
Green ink and other markings ran along her chestnut-colored skin. Bright green eyes, slitted like a cat’s, shone in the light of the moons. And the woman was watching Ember with a keen and hungry expression.
Like the woman wanted to either fuck her, eat her, or was making up her mind between the two options.
Or deciding to do both. Ember raised her knife in defense and took a step back. Both of the horses were stomping the ground and shifting back and forth nervously. They knew a predator was dangerously close.
The woman tilted her head to the side, smirking with confidence. She turned to speak over her shoulder at Lyon, who was picking himself up from the ground and brushing himself off. Oddly, he seemed in no rush about it. “Why are you always collecting mortals, my love?”
“It is my lot in life, it seems.” Lyon brushed some dirt from his sleeve. “Must you always introduce yourself in such a dramatic fashion?”
“I wasn’t introducing myself, darling. The score between us is now even. I believe the phrase is ‘tag, you’re it.’” The woman grinned. Her canine teeth were just a little too long and a little too sharp.
Lyon walked up to the woman and leaned down to kiss her. When he broke off the embrace, there was a tender warmth in his eyes that left no room for argument about whether or not he loved the newcomer.
“You can lower your knife, kitten,” the woman said to Ember as she wrapped her arms around Lyon’s waist. “Although I do appreciate your instincts, I’m afraid you’re outmatched, mortal.”
“Story of my life.” Ember sighed. “I take it you’re his wife?”
“Not always a safe assumption around here. But in this case, yes. You’re right.” The woman held out a hand to her. “Kamira. Elder of the House of Moons, and regent to King Dtu.”
Ember tucked her knife back into her belt and shook the woman’s hand. “Ember. That’s all I’ve got.”
Kamira snickered. “A fighter.” She grinned and looked back up to Lyon. The woman was easily six feet tall or more, but still had to look up at the towering King of Blood, who easily had half a foot on her. “I like her already. Feisty and cute, her coming to your rescue like that. Absolutely adorable.”
“I didn’t know who you were.” Ember didn’t know why she felt the need to defend her actions. It wasn’t cute. “I thought he was in danger.”
“Everyone is always in danger in Under. That’s part of the fun.”
“What are you doing here, my love?” Lyon tucked a braided strand of Kamira’s dark hair behind her slightly pointed ear.
“That’s complicated.” Kamira sighed. “You aren’t the only one who has wound up with a mortal charge. My pack was out hunting with Dtu’s when we came across a strange little village. It looked like one of the edge towns that the wild ones piece together. It was filled with strange mortals that do not come from Earth.”
“My world was called Gioll,” Ember muttered.
“Was your world also filled with bizarre, hungry corpses?” Kamira sneered. “They make for easy kills, but they are prolific in number.”
“Yes,” Lyon answered for her. “And they have taken Yej. The city is overrun.”
“What?” Kamira took a step back from Lyon in shock. “You’re kidding! The whole city?”
Lyon nodded solemnly. “We are headed up the road after Ini and Maverick, who fled with whoever else we could save. The city evacuated, and citizens are likely spreading in all directions. But the city itself is…lost, for the time being.”
“Who—how?” Kamira shook her head. “What is going on?”
“It is a long story.” Lyon shut his eyes. “And I do not understand most of what has transpired. But…Rxa has returned. And he brings with him a tide of death and a hunger for revenge.”
Silence hung in the air for a long moment.
And then Kamira laughed. She cackled. Ember watched her as though she had lost her mind. They were discussing the end of the world, and the feral woman was laughing as though it were the funniest joke she’d ever heard.
Kamira’s laughter ended in a long rush of a sigh, and she shook her head. “This world will never cease to amaze me in the creative ways it comes up with to fuck us over. The Ancients must be bored again.”
“I do not think this was their doing.” Lyon let out a heavy breath. “I believe our world collided with Ember’s, and this is the result of the merger.”
“Fantastic. Well, I’m hungry, and we have a pack of needy mortals who want to stop hiking through the woods.” Kamira grunted in annoyance. “There is a clearing about five miles up the road. We will take the mortals there and set up camp for the night. And then you can tell Dtu and me everything you know.”
Green cat’s eyes found Ember, and that predatory glint returned to Kamira’s gaze. Ember felt her cheeks go warm. “And you. I look forward to talking with you some more.”
“I—um—” Now her cheeks were on fire.
“Feisty and cute.” Kamira sighed wistfully. “Lyon, why do you have all the luck?” Before her husband could respond, the woman took one step toward the woods, crouc
hed, and jumped into the shadows. She moved faster than Ember could track.
I am so very painfully out of my league.
“I apologize. My wife can be a bit…much.” He ran a hand down his shirt and vest, smoothing a crease left over from his fall off his horse.
“That’s one word for it. I’m just glad you weren’t being attacked.”
“Well, I was. But she means me no permanent harm.” He smiled faintly.
“One question, though. Why are all the women around here half naked?” Not that I’m complaining.
Lyon laughed loudly and walked toward his horse. “Think on a world of immortals who cannot die, nor get sick, nor sire lineage. We have many, many idle hours to fill with whatever myriad activities you could possibly imagine.”
“You mean, your kind get very bored and find ways to amuse yourself?”
“Copious ways, yes.” He patted the horse’s neck. “And in Kamira’s case, her nudity is also a matter of comfort when she shifts her form. Changing shape with too much clothing, I am told, is restrictive and uncomfortable.” He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, like it was something that just happened all the time. Magic and monsters. He climbed onto the back of his horse. “Come. It’s been an eventful day. I think rest is well-deserved.”
The horses both seemed much calmer now that Kamira was gone. Cricket had stopped stomping the dirt. Walking up, she ran her hand over his nose. “She makes me nervous, too,” she whispered to the animal. Cricket puffed air and nudged her with what she might have mistaken for affection.
“She won’t hurt you,” Lyon answered her comment. She glanced over at him, shocked that he had heard her from some twenty feet away. He smiled gently. “My gifts come with heightened senses.”
“No insulting you under my breath. Noted.” She climbed onto Cricket and settled down on the plates of the creature’s back. It was comfortable enough, but they had been riding for hours, and they had another hour to go to get to the clearing.
“It doesn’t stop anyone else. Don’t trouble yourself over it.” He chuckled.
She should have laughed with him. But dread was filling her instead. She should have been excited to see some of her own people. She should be thrilled that more of them survived. And she was. She was thrilled to know there were more refugees from Gioll who might be safe.
She snapped a dead branch off a tree as she rode past. She broke off a few of the smaller twigs until she had a section that looked about right. “Lyon?”
“Hm?”
“Can you set this on fire for me? Just the end of it.” She held out the branch to him.
“You’re assuming I can make fire on command?” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Magic is far more complicated than that.”
“Well…can you?”
He paused. “Yes.”
She smirked at him and waved the stick in his direction. “Please?”
With a shake of his head, he held out his hand and touched the end of the stick. It burst into flame. She laughed. “Oh, that’s incredible.” She pulled the small branch back and watched it burn for a while. “I wish I had magic. I wish I were something more than a guppy in a lake full of much larger hungry fish.” She blew out the fire. The end was appropriately charred. She tapped her finger on it once or twice to make sure it was cool enough.
“What are you doing?”
“The mark across my face signals that I am graedari.” She set the charred point to her cheek under her left eye and began to draw a line across her face, over her nose, and to the other side. “That I am a hunter, and not welcome among them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some hunters are chosen to stay behind as guardians. But those of us who aren’t? When we’re sent out into the wilds to hunt the drengil, we aren’t meant to return. Rejoining a sanctuary town or a citadel is strictly forbidden. Being seen without a mark is considered shameful, and grounds for being outcast. People know me by my strange hair, but this is tradition. And all we have left—had, I guess—is our traditions.”
Ember finished drawing the line and tossed the stick away. “I don’t belong to your world. You have magic, and…can change your shape. And float. And do incredible things. But the ‘mortals’ we’re about to meet? The sad fact is, I don’t really belong in their world either.”
“If I have come to believe in one thing, it is that everyone has a place where they belong. You have simply not found yours yet. I have faith you will.”
“Faith.” She sighed and looked up at the stars. Stars she didn’t recognize, but that were beautiful all the same. “Do you think my old gods are dead?”
“I do not know.”
“But they aren’t here. If they aren’t dead, they’re…gone.” She paused. “But I have the urge to pray to them for guidance. Does that make me a fool?”
“You are not a fool, Miss Ember. Prayers, even those that are not heard, carry more power than you may believe.”
“How so?”
He weighed his words. “Magic is nothing more than exerting our will on energy. On using our desires to bend the fabric of existence around us. Prayer, at its core, is identical. It is the act of asking the world, or the powers in control of it, to grant us what we wish. Indeed, for thousands of years of human existence, prayer and magic were identical. The shamans of old would light their candles and place their sacrifices on an altar to work their will.”
“But both are attached to the gods who rule it. Your magic comes from your Ancients.”
“Our magic comes from the world the Ancients created. They are the same, but distinct.”
“That makes no sense.” She laughed.
“My wife pulls her power from the moons overhead. I draw my power from the blood that runs through the veins of every living creature in this world. And that blood was put there by the Ancients. Think of it like a stream. They are the mountains that gather the rain that send the rivulets downward. But I draw from the rivers.”
“Yes, but if the mountains suddenly crumbled, the rivers would dry up.”
“But nothing in this world can ever truly be destroyed. Matter and energy are simply repurposed. The rivers empty to lakes, and the lakes evaporate and create rain, which creates new rivers. The ocean cares not for the crumbled mountains, for it only knows them as the sand upon the shore.”
“You’re saying that the gods I pray to have simply been…repurposed. That’s a charming thought, but I’ve seen too much of my world consumed to think that the life that has been spent is going to anywhere but the void. I watched Gioll atrophy. Where did all of that go?”
“I do not know. Likely to the Dread God who caused it.” He looked up at the stars. “Forgive me. I’ve launched into one of my theological debates once more.”
“Don’t apologize. Trust me, I’m just glad to have someone to talk to.” She patted Cricket’s neck, scratching the mane that stuck out between the plates. With her other hand, she held the amulet she wore that carried the sigil of the Grandfather. “If your Ancients died, Lyon—would you still pray to them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“In hopes that if I poured enough of my energy into them, they might return to us.”
“Why would you want them back? They seem cruel.”
“Oh, indeed. They play their games. But without them, I never would have found this place where I belong. I never would have known true happiness. And for that, I am devoted to them, and will always be.” Ice blue eyes turned to her. “That you worship dead gods to whom you owe nothing is what sets us apart. I pray with thanks. You pray with hope.”
“You see what it’s gotten me? Nothing.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He took a moment to think once more before speaking. “I have lived a long time. Not as long as some. But one thing I have garnered a knack for is knowing when strings are being pulled. When there is more at work than meets the eye. I would not surrender so easily.”
“If your world has plans for me
, I can’t wait to see what they are. Whatever your Ancients want from me can’t be worse than the life I came from.” She grinned at Lyon.
Lyon’s expression was a serious one when he answered, killing her smile. When he spoke, his tone sent her mood falling like a rock.
“Of that, I would not be so certain.”
18
Jakob hummed as he poked at the fire with a long stick. A few of Dtu’s people had arrived with animals to be cleaned and cooked. He hadn’t ever seen creatures like the ones they brought in. Some of them might resemble deer, or moose, if they had been crossed with someone’s nightmare.
But meat was meat, and they were all starving. It had been a long and brutal day of marching through the woods. They had abandoned the road to take a “faster route.” Faster for Dtu and his kind, perhaps. But not so much for a gaggle of survivors who weren’t used to travel and who were scared for their lives.
Jakob frowned and flipped the piece of meat on the skewer he had rigged over the fire. He wished he had grabbed his tent and bag before everything had gone wrong. Sleeping on the ground was getting old, and it had only been one night.
“How do you fare?”
Jakob yelped in surprise, whirling to see the giant undead wolf next to him. Dtu. Jakob put his hand to his heart. “You scared me!” He laughed. “Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I fear I’m incapable of doing anything but.” Dtu sat on his hind legs then lowered himself to the elbows of his front legs. “It’s nothing personal.”
“I guess.” He smiled and sat down on a log next to the fire and poked at the coals again. “I fare just fine, thank you. I’m used to long hours on the road. Would you like some meat?”
“No, thank you.”
“Right. You don’t eat with others.” Jakob reached out and took the end of the stick he used to skewer the whatever-it-was steak he had been given as a ration. It looked cooked about right.
“And cooking food is a waste.”
Mask of Poison (Fall of Under Book 1) Page 18