by G. P McKenna
Sedna snorted, “you’re more book smart than street smart, huh?”
“At least I’m some kind of smart,” I muttered. If only I could—yes!. It took a mighty effort and biting through my tongue, but I managed to roll onto my side and away from her…only for something to snag my hip. Groaning, I hoisted myself back onto my elbows and reached into my pocket, only to startle when a disjointed grin dangled above me.
Sedna leaned down, icy breath ghosting my lips as something wet and forked stroked the shell of my ear. I yelped and rolled away, ignoring the vertigo that attacked my head at the sudden movement. She laughed. “Have you figured out who I am yet?”
I sat up fully and cocked my head, “So you’re a monster. Big deal.”
The grin dropped as Sedna’s lips relaxed into a severe line. She stood up and took the two steps to stand before me. Groaning, I shoved my hands into my pockets. She held up her own and sat down in front of me. Silver met blue in front of the waterfall. Sedna paused her lips and leaned over, jabbing her nail into my forehead, “you’re not normal.”
“I don’t know. Would a not normal person do this?” I ripped the Kaori dagger from my pocket and lunged. What followed would never be described as graceful. No amount of exaggeration could help a bard lament the momentary struggle of me attempting to stab my blade through Sedna’s heart. I managed to scratch her chin before my hand was pushed away and my cheek slapped. It was little more than a tap, but the heat returned tenfold.
“Stop,” Sedna’s voice echoed deeply, “I’m not planning on hurting you, but I will if you can’t control yourself.” I leaned over and bit her nose. Sedna growled and slammed the heel of her boot into my ankle. Red hot pain drowned out my cry as I closed my eyes and stabbed the dagger forward once more.
The smell of decay returned, and a paralysing cramp pulsated through my hand, withering it while the air filled with a familiar static. I opened my eyes in time to watch Sedna wrap a pale claw around the glimmering hilt of Kaori sandstone which sat suspended where my hand had been.
“That’s cheating.” I hissed while rubbing my throbbing ankle.
Sedna tossed my dagger to the side, “what’s that saying you Ascotians have always been so fond of: nothing is ever fair in life, love, or war?” Scoffing, I laid back down and closed my eyes. There was little point in correcting her about my ethnicity. She wouldn’t care anyway.
Crossing my foot over my knee, I focused on massaging away the pain. There was a movement to my right, and I opened my eyes, unsurprised to find Sedna peering down at me once more, “what do you want?” I asked, “it’s the Armoury. The doors are kept locked. It’s not like Ilya can waltz in and save me. He’ll have to go to the Shield for help, and from what I know about your history with him, you’ve likely just caused your own death.”
“Doubtful,” Sedna crouched, “Ilya’s Ilvarjo. Shadow people. Umbrageous. Ereboportation comes as naturally to him as it does me. If he wants in, he’ll get in.”
Umbrageous and Ereboportation were completely foreign words, but she’d already insulted my intelligence once, and I didn’t want to risk her doing it again, so my only reply was a one finger gesture. The line of Sedna’s mouth remained stiff as she held out her hand as thick, murky water encased it whole. The water reeked of bile and swirled in a grey whirlpool before dripping away, leaving Sedna gripping a familiar sword. It was long and dull, the obsidian hilt decorated with a silver triquetra at the base of its cross-section. It took a moment to place where I’d seen it before, but when I did, the choking sound that escaped my throat couldn’t be contained. The sword I was familiar with was ivory hilted and detailed in gold. It wasn’t a dark abomination born of foul water. No. That wasn’t Pogue’s sword, but a perfect dark replica.
Grinning, Sedna held the point over my head. I scrunched my eyes and tipped my head to expose my neck. If she was going to do it, she’d better do it fast. The blow never came. There was a loud clapping sound and the heinous smell. When I dared crack a lid to peek on the progression of my fate, I found Sedna’s hands empty as she knelt back down and clicked her tongue, “I can’t decide whether you’re brave or insane. Do you not realize how easy it would be for me to spill your blood?”
“Do it then.”
She reached forward and grasped my braid, tugging it against her nose where she inhaled deeply before leaning back with a low growl, “you’re not afraid to die?”
I rolled my eyes, “Maybe I’m just not afraid of you.”
“You’re not. That’s concerning.” Sedna hummed as she dropped my hair, “everyone’s afraid of me. It’s human nature to fear what lurks in the dark. I’m very old. I’ve devoured some of the bravest souls in existence, and in the end, they were each marinated by fear. Even the Blessed Sword smells of it when he graces me with his presence. But not you. Either you have no sense of self-preservation, or you want to die: which is it?” I spat in her face. Sedna wiped the spittle away and stood, sucking her fingers clean, “I see. Sorry kid, I’ve waited too long for this night to risk it all by indulging in the soul of a spoiled, suicidal child. I’m not overly fond of the taste.”
“I’m not suicidal.”
“No, just selfish,” Sedna sneered. The sound of light footsteps echoed through the cathedral and Sedna sighed, “but tonight’s my turn. If you’re smart, you will stay out of my way. If not for your own sake, for his. I want this, and one way or another, I always get what I want.”
We had that in common.
The pulsating light and colour of the fae nursery was a memorizing galaxy all of its own which promised to signal all of life’s secrets, present and future if only one looked hard enough into its glow. Still, I would’ve appreciated Ilya doing a little more than stand and gawk at it the moment he walked into the hall. A fearsome Ilvarjo assassin rendered utterly useless by some flashing lights. I was beginning to think the famous storytellers of the past had exaggerated many of their fables for dramatic effect.
Typical.
Sedna had disappeared. One moment she’d been there and the next she wasn’t. I didn’t care, wanting only to get leave, but Ilya wanted only to stare dumbly at the roof. Clearly, I’d have to be the one to go to him, and so crossed my arms and bent my knee. No sooner had weight been applied to my ankle than I tumbled to the floor.
I cried out, both in pain and frustration, before ripping the hole in my tights down to my ankle to poke and prod. It was only bruised; mildly disappointing as that much pain deserved more than just a wicked bruise three days into the future. A third hand joined in the poking and I cried out for a different reason.
“Are you alright?” Ilya asked, “Did Sedna do this?”
“What do you care?” I said and pushed his hand away. He sat back without a fight, and I grasped my ankle once more, “of course Sedna did this. Who else would’ve?”
“But they promised not to hurt you.”
“Well, you can’t trust crazy people,” I looked up when he didn’t reply. Ilya’s face was pale as he drew his knees to his chest. I sighed, “it was partly my fault. I bit her nose.”
“You what?” Ilya cocked a brow when I shrugged, “why would you do that?”
“It would appear your friend has a death wish,” a husky voice came from the darkness. Two disembodied arms, longer than any humans, oozed out from the shadows and wrapped themselves around Ilya’s waist, squeezing tightly from behind. Ilya didn’t react at all to the sudden intrusion. If anything, he seemed to relax slightly as Sedna rested her chin on his shoulder, “Say doll,” she practically purred and blew his bangs, “did you enjoy the light show?”
Ilya looked up and nodded, “it’s breathtaking,” he said before pinching Sedna’s wrist. She immediately loosened her hold, and Ilya ducked beneath. He climbed to his feet and looked down at her, “though I would’ve appreciated you choosing another room. One that doesn’t evoke so many painful memories.”
“Oh,” Sedna stood and stroked the skin beneath Ilya’s right eye while tuttin
g her tongue, “an unfortunate oversight. I never expected the Priests’ Spector to harm you as it did, or I would never have allowed it so close. Does it still hurt?”
“Not physically,” Ilya said and stepped out of her reach, “Sedna, please allow me to take Kilco to back camp. I promise to return.”
Sedna shook her head and sat down beside me, “I can’t allow that, Doll.”
“Why not?” Ilya asked.
Humming, Sedna gently picked up my braid and untied the ribbon holding it in place. Ilya took a step forward, but Sedna held up a finger, “you have my word that I won’t hurt her, but I can’t let you take her. She’s my insurance. If you leave with her what incentive will you have to return?” she pulled my hair free and looked up with a smile, “besides, she has a stake in this too. It would be bad manners to send her away.”
“Stake in this?” Ilya’s brow furrowed, “stake in what exactly?” Sedna’s icy fingers tickled through my scalp and down my neck towards my sleeve. Looking Ilya in the eye, she flicked it up to reveal the bite mark that sat beneath. Ilya’s eyes widened, “you marked her?
Sedna chuckled and dropped my arm, “two insurance policies are always better than one.”
“Remove it. Now.” Ilya demanded.
“Steady doll,” Sedna said and stood back up, “I’ll remove it. As soon as we’re done.”
Ilya covered his eyes with his hands and took a deep breath. He looked at Sedna, “I already know what you wish to tell me, so can I please tell you something first?” Sedna sucked in her bottom lip, though it did little to dim her smile as she nodded. Ilya took another breath, “I don’t want to do this with you again.”
Sedna’s smile shattered, “come again?”
“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Ilya repeated. Sedna’s mouth hung limply open, and he sighed, hand moving towards the buckle of his dagger belt. I pinched his ankle. Ilya looked down and shook his head before stepping to the side and continued unbuckling it. Nobody said a word as he removed his weapons, one by one, and placed them on the wooden pews that separated each massive door. Stopping before Sedna, he sighed as she worked her jaw from side-to-side “I am sorry, but I’m not sure how you expected this to work. We’re supposed to be sworn enemies. It goes against every path travelled.”
Sedna’s jaw relaxed, and she laughed, “Is that what’s worrying you: your paths? Don’t. History is riddled with stories where the paths have aligned for enemies to become lovers. It happens so often that there’s even a myth of what happens when an Ilvarjo and Kaori kiss.”
Ilya shook his head, “That’s not the same, and you know it. This isn’t a myth, this is reality, and in this reality, you are destined to die at the Shield’s hands.”
“That’s not reality. Reality doesn’t exist until it comes to pass.”
“It’s what the paths foretold,” Ilya turned back to his weapons, “what prophecy states.”
“For one who still sees so clearly you are blind to honest truth,” Sedna reached out to fondle the folds of Ilya’s mask, tugging it down when he made no move to pull away, “don’t you understand what’s happening. It’s a new era. There are no more Deities, no more prophecy or destiny. You still see your paths, yet they lead nowhere. It’s an incoming age of complete freedom. I’m grasping my freedom with both hands, using it to tell you that I’ve fallen for you. Now the question is, are you brave enough to do that same?”
There was something desperate, almost pleading in Sedna’s voice and Ilya turned to face her. With the mask down, he could hide the emotion that raced through him: confusion, happiness, excitement, sadness. All there on his face, all clear as day to anybody who knew him. Then his face went stoic. He took a step back, away from Sedna, “no.”
For a moment, Sedna smiled, but it soon twisted as her eyes widened, “I didn’t catch that.”
“No,” Ilya repeated and turned around, “I-I’m sorry, I haven’t fallen for you. Not in the way you want. I’m sorry, I-” Sedna grabbed his arm. Ilya looked over his shoulder and tried to pull away, but Sedna only tightened her grip and took a step towards the pool in the centre of the cathedral, “what are you doing?”
“You ungrateful brat,” Sedna’s voice was rooted to the point of masculine, “after everything I’ve done for you. All those times I’ve saved your life, and all you have to say is sorry?”
“Sedna, stop. You’re hurting me.”
“I’m hurting you?” Sedna laughed and tightened her grip. The veins in her hand strained as she twisted.
“Yes,” Ilya winced, “I don’t understand what you expected me to say. I’ve never lied to you. In fact, I’ve lost count of the times I’ve explicitly stated that we’re enemies. If you ever thought I could love you-”
“You made a pretty good case for that when you kissed me in the Umbra,” Sedna shouted.
“I had no choice,” Ilya said and looked at me, shaking his head, “Erebus was gone, and you were fading. I was too injured to survive there alone. I had to anchor you to reality.”
“So you admit to using my affection for you as a tool to meet your own ends?” Sedna twisted Ilya’s arm to an awkward angle, forcing him to kneel on the wet tiles, least it snap, “a little twisted, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes…no. I-I don’t know. I never wanted any of this.”
“Never wanted this?” Sedna dropped his arm and backed up until she hit one of the mosaic doors. She turned, slamming her head against it. The sound of cracking glass reached my ears, mixed with wailing sobs that became increasingly louder as I began to crawl to Ilya, only to freeze halfway when the sobs morphed into a burst of deep, manic laughter.
The smell of death and decay flooded my senses once more, and I looked to Sedna. There was nothing to see as a cyclone of murky water circled the spot where she had stood. Around and around, until it stopped, suspended in mid-air against every rule of physics. Through the laughter came another sound, a familiar sound that never failed to send a shiver down my spine. The sound of breaking bone. The liquid fell to the floor, leaving blasphemy in its wake.
Where Sedna’s willowy form had once stood was the figure of a man. Black hair clung to pasty skin that was supposed to sunkissed, and silver eyes that should’ve been a bright cerulean blue. A sinister grin looked most grotesque when painted on lips that spoke so much joy. It was all so familiar, yet so wrong. The light which flowed so freely from the Shield of Ascot was dead in the water, leaving only a shadowy mirror image behind. I understood why the Morrigan was called death incarnate; it was grievous for somebody so beloved to appear so un-alive.
Pogue’s dark clone pushed off the door and took a step forward, and still, Ilya did not move. I tried to stand, but the pain shooting through my ankle made it impossible. Manic laughter echoed through the cathedral once more, “you stupid boy, I was going to give you pleasure beyond your wildest dream.”
That voice had sounded almost like Pogue’s. Almost, only the accent was ever so slightly off, like a mockery or an act, and that alone seemed to snap Ilya from his daze. He looked towards me and scrambled to his feet with remarkable speed. Sedna was faster. Quicker than any human could, they tackled Ilya back to the wet tiles and forced his arms above his head in a single-handed grip that he had no chance to struggle free from. Humming, Sedna leaned down and blew hair from his face, “you should’ve given yourself willingly. Now you’ve left me no choice but to go through with my original plan.”
“What plan?” Ilya asked, twisting in their grip.
Sedna smiled, “don’t you remember the night we met? I swore that before I melted the Shield that I’d first destroy everything he ever loved.” Sedna slammed their lips against Ilya’s in an act so vulgar and violent. There was nothing romantic about it at all. Ilya responded by slamming his knee into the Morrigan’s side. They groaned and staggered to the left, allowing Ilya to roll out from beneath. He sat up and spat on the floor as Sedna wobbled to their feet with a strained laugh, “so you want to make this difficult. So
be it. Just know that I gave you a chance, but this is my house, and I always get what I want.”
They sped forward, all loss of balance suddenly gone as they aimed a flurry of jabs at Ilya’s face with a battle cry that reminded me of a flock of pigeons. Ilya rolled to his feet, effortlessly avoiding each blow by dancing into increasingly contorted positions and arching his back into a side aerial, avoiding a series of kicks Sedna released that seemed to have no destination other than to hit something solid. Ilya pivoted, placing himself behind the Morrigan, and before it could react, he delivered a kick of his own into their lower back.
It seemed Sedna had not only mimicked Pogue’s appearance, but they’d also stolen his fighting style. Heavy, strong and raw, Ilya knew precisely how to counter it. Ilya ducked under the blow Sedna aimed at his temple, before pulling up to slam his palm against their face. The horrible stench returned as Sedna growled and grasped their nose. Their hand came away wet, and they took a step back while holding it out flat. The liquid seemed to expand until their entire hand was a whirlpool once more. Ilya took several steps backwards as the water fell to the ground, leaving Sedna clasping the grotesque caricature of the Casteel sword. Sedna grinned and strode forward as Ilya’s hand dropped to his thigh. And froze. Without taking his eye off Sedna, Ilya craned his neck to look past me and I followed his gaze.
Oh, that stupid twat.
Ilya’s swords and daggers sat snugly on the pew behind. Under normal circumstances it would’ve taken me seconds to retrieve them, but with my ankle in such a state…well, I’d get to them if it killed me. He wasn’t going to be slaughtered by some mythical monster in a giant tree. Not under my watch. But it would take effort to get to them.