by Dy Loveday
“Why would I pretend to care? He was an animal,” Esmonda replied in a low voice.
Maya closed her eyes, counted to ten, and took a deep breath. “Leave her alone.”
There was a moment of awkward silence. Resh’s eyes flashed silver, black flames swirling with rage. His face was white. Maya caught his eyes and made a cutting motion with her hand to let him know he should drop the subject. Dark shades of black flitted in the shadows on the periphery of her vision.
“The grimoire said I would bring conflict to the realm. I don’t want this.”
“The fight with Molokh started a long time ago. The burden is not on your shoulders,” Resh said.
“Maybe not. But we need to stick together if we’re to beat him.”
“I can’t believe you’re supporting her,” Alexandr murmured in her ear.
Something landed on her hand. Ash. The others didn’t seem to notice.
A dry pit of nerves rode low in her stomach. The sorceress didn’t appear the least threatening. Her face was strained. She seemed to be begging him to listen, to read between the lines. Words that her brother didn’t want to hear or understand.
Maya turned to Resh. “Does Balkaith host the only serpent creature on its walls, or do they appear elsewhere in the Empire?” She tried to keep her voice steady. Esmonda could wait until later.
“No, we have them in every township. They represent magic and symbolize the unity of the Empire.”
“I think our best chance of survival is to evoke the Circle. Back on Earth, you spoke to me about the disappearance of the Enim warriors. I think I know what they are.”
“What do you mean?” Alexandr asked.
“I’m sure of it. They’re the serpents with wings and the head of dog. Like the one painted on your wall in Balkaith. I rode one in my dream.”
The darkness started to rise, form a shape. What was it telling her?
“The Circle of Eight. Will the ritual evoke the warriors?”
Resh inclined his head and nodded, anger stifled beneath hooded eyes. “It’s a possibility. The warriors disappeared, but the myths say they are still with us. First things first. Let’s get to Tau. The ravens will meet us with word from Lord Seth.”
He looked astonished for a moment, reached out a hand to capture the ash that rained down on them from midair. It had grown heavier and denser by the minute.
“Let’s move. The ward has broken. We’ve run out of time.”
Chapter 18
Daughter of Mist
“So, the Enim Warriors forced the Khereb back to the Abyss and freed the Empire. With them went Molokh, also called Ba’al, Zephin, Hadead, Pidam, and Rapiun, rider of the clouds, god of lightning and thunder. Once a Prince on Earth, now imprisoned as a demon lord in the Abyss. His powers are regeneration and reincarnation.”
—Corpus Megistus, Volume VIII, Enim Empire
They stepped out of darkness onto a ledge that overlooked a vast valley filled with dark green trees draped in moss. Thick gray mist poured in from the southeast. It circled the treetops and blanketed the foliage. Several birds gave a piercing shriek and took off, heading west. One black shape caught Maya’s eye, its massive wingspan apparent even from a great distance.
“What is it?” She pointed at the bat-like shape as it skimmed over the top of the trees, beat its wings once, twice, then bolted into a pink-streaked sky. It circled high above, then flew behind the mountain.
“Khereb.” Alexandr’s tone was matter-of-fact.
Dawn was coming. A weak yellow sun struggled to find its way through the mist, and to the north the scenery opened to a huge carpet of leafy green. Several parcels of land had been cleared around five or so townships, but they were too far away for her to discern the architecture or people. Lower, and to the far north, the land flattened to olive-shaded lowlands, and finally a denim-blue ocean sparkled in the distance.
“Let’s open a portal. Before the rest of them turn up.” The sorceress sounded subdued.
“From here it looked like a bird,” Maya said.
“Let’s not wait to find out,” Esmonda murmured.
Resh dropped his backpack on the dirt and rummaged inside, withdrew a long white stick and a handful of herbs. He moved to the edge of the cliff, faced west, and breathed deeply. He muttered ritual words in a low tone for several minutes, swayed as if he might fall, then stepped back and drew a half circle in the dirt with the pointed end of the stick.
He crouched and knocked his knuckles on the ground, each sound falling heavier and louder each time. Then he made three complex gestures with his hand. Black sigils appeared and floated in midair. They burned and smoldered, sent out the smell of charred wood. The dirt in the half circle heaved. An iron ring appeared and Resh tugged until the half circle lifted with a squeal like an old monastery door.
Alexandr tapped under her chin, and Maya realized she’d been gaping. She closed her mouth with a click of teeth.
“It will take us to Tau.” He smiled at her, but there was sadness behind his eyes that she didn’t understand.
“It’s safe, don’t be concerned,” said Resh. “Esmonda will go first.”
Esmonda lifted her skirt and stepped over the edge into the darkness. For a moment she floated, her body glowing ghostly white. Then she reached out and grabbed Resh’s arm, her eyes wide in panic. An electrical buzz filled the air as she faded from view, leaving behind the smell of apples and ozone.
What was that about?
Resh stared at the empty space for a moment. “You’re next.” He held a hand out to Maya. A rustle from the left had them turning in unison. A person stepped out from the cave entrance.
Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt under a swirling red cape. Smiling with narrowed eyes as if terribly pleased with himself.
Trent.
“Maya McAdam,” Trent said with a smile. “Here we are again.” He opened the journal they’d lost back on Earth. It revealed a picture of Maya standing on a ledge with winged Khereb flying in the background. “We’ve been watching you.” He inclined his head at Resh and closed it with a snap. “Unfortunately the warlock is not part of the bargain.”
A sudden gust of wind lifted her hair and dragged at her clothes. A black-skinned Khereb landed with a heavy thud near the cliff face, several yards from Trent. Another jackal-faced Khereb rode a thermal current close to the ledge, several feet from Alexandr. It screamed and received a piercing reply from more Khereb circling above. The shrieks echoed across the valley.
Her breath seized in her chest. The small ledge creaked ominously and she leaned back on Resh, who’d drawn his sword.
The Khereb on the ground was huge, much larger than those back in the cave. It stood on four legs, twice as tall as Trent, stinking of death. Its mage face was sickeningly familiar.
Jhara.
Trent extended his hand to Maya. Resh gripped her tighter and edged back. How far could he move before falling off? A few feet at most. Maya craned her head over her shoulder and saw nothing but miles and miles of rolling mist. The sun gained a foothold on the horizon, found a hole in the mist, and blazed into her eyes.
Resh tracked Trent and Jhara, while Alexandr swiveled to face the Khereb behind them.
“Thanks for the open invitation to Balkaith.” Trent slipped the journal into a pouch around his hips and smiled at her. “I’ve never seen a blue sky. It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Lord Molokh has been waiting for your powers to reveal themselves. He’s never quite sure what to expect.” He genuflected, limp hair falling forward.
“What are you doing?” The words spurted off Maya’s tongue. Her voice sounded deeper, strange in her own ears.
“The transit of Venus marked the day you were born. The weather changes, strife between races, death of the planet—all these events heralded your reincarnation. Your birth to a human was foreseen; no one knew which continent. It’s why the Anu revealed themselves to humans; they had a better chance of finding you with both magic and science. But you foun
d Jhara instead—attracted by his factory. You couldn’t keep away.” He laughed. “Jhara paid handsome prices to secure all your art. Then it blew up in his face because he tried to renege on our lord’s deal. Just as well I found this,” he tapped the pouch holding her journal, “or I would’ve ended up just like my old master.”
She froze, stunned by Trent’s words. Her useless muscles turned to water.
“Our Daughter of Mist. Even though you ran, I was justly rewarded.” Trent nodded like a clown at a fair. As he moved, columns of turbulent dark red energy swirled from his body. “Lord Molokh increased my neuron spikes, turned me mage by tripling my powers.”
“She isn’t yours,” Resh said. It was a soft declaration that lightened her spirits and gave her new resolve. She wouldn’t let them take her without a fight.
His hand on her chest pressed hard toward the portal behind them. His power filled the air until she could feel a sharp tingle race over her skin.
“Don’t think of it. You’ll be dead before she moves.” Trent lifted his arm and pointed at Resh. White lightning danced along the tips of his fingers, dripping down to sizzle on the ledge. “There’s more sentient energy in this realm. No wonder the warlocks left Earth. The powers in the crystals are sublime.”
“Do you really think you can beat me?” Resh growled.
Trent laughed. “I won’t need to. Look around you.”
Black shapes filled the sky, winging their way to their aerie on the mountain. Hundreds and hundreds of winged monsters bringing with them the scent of decayed flesh. Maya flinched.
“Your real name is Pidray; Daughter of Mist and Lightning. Goddess of War and Illusion. The Khereb have sacked Balkaith. Once the mess is cleared, Anu will cross to this realm and leave the pitiful husk of Earth behind. Everything depends on you; the warlocks will be killed or enslaved. At sunset, your powers will allow you to take on any form you wish. Your transition marks the stage between earthbound powers and immortality.”
She shifted her balance, reeling in shock, felt Resh’s chest heave behind her.
Immortal. Her lips mouthed the word.
The scent of incense and wax came to her.
A mountain of bones—swaying palm trees and the blinding desert—racing horses in a chariot over white sand screaming in laughter and glee—gauzy cloth covering scantily clad women their long hair braided with silver beads and peacock feathers—Lapis lazuli statues and inscribed obelisks—dates their dark flesh ripe and rich on her tongue—happiness—a gold coronet shaped as poison ivy—the wonderful feeling of freedom tingling through her body as she basked like a cat under a hot sun after being buried beneath stone for so long.
“Until tonight, I am messenger and guard.” Trent tossed a bolt of electricity at the Khereb. It hit his black rump with a zap of fire. The smell of burned and rotten flesh filled the air, making her cough.
Jhara’s red eyes glittered with rage, but he lowered himself on stiff forelegs and bowed to Maya.
“What have you done to him?” she asked, dragging back from memories rich with familiar faces. No beautifully clad women peeked at her from behind open weaved screens, or gold beds covered in damask and sheer cotton. Just Jhara, his pained eyes etched with suffering, and a cloudless sky filled with flying Khereb calling death. Jhara had never been her favorite person, but he didn’t deserve this.
“Our Lord Molokh created him for you,” said Trent. “He dared touch you in anger. He’s yours. They all are. If you bind with us.” He gave an elegant wave to the air, a smile fixed on his long face.
“I don’t want them.” She touched the hilt of her dagger. The awful futility of it all struck her like a hammer, made her wonder what she was really fighting for.
“Time to grow up, Pidray. Take your rightful place. If you humor Lord Molokh, he might even let you keep the warlocks as pets. Your sympathetic nature got you into trouble in your previous lives. He’s promised not to bury you in a hole for your failings. Do the right thing and you’ll never have to bear the silence of death.”
Resh’s brown arm pressed across her chest. She’d never felt more fearful, more filled with cold, deadly horror. What was the truth? Had she murdered children or had she tried to save them? Her memories told her she’d loved those ancient people. She met Resh’s eyes over her shoulder, and they were telling her to bolt for the portal, maybe four feet away. Only Alexandr stood between them and the half circle. The force of the Kherebs’ wings blew dust and pebbles across the ledge.
“There’s no justice in taking this realm by force.” She wanted to step back and hide from the monstrous Khereb. A repulsive mismatch of mage features, a broad, squat body, and a long, flicking tongue set below a toad’s eyes stared back at her.
“Pidray, justice is in the words of the winner. Today you have a choice to come with us or allow the warlocks to be killed.”
“Let her go, Resheph. She’ll kill us all in the end.” It was Alexandr’s voice, from behind her.
Maya’s skin pricked with warning as Resh pressed once, twice with his fingers on her side. She touched her kila, traced what had been carved with painstaking care on the hilt. The snake, the peridot, the silver coils, were all there beneath the pads of her fingers. He planned to thrust her to the portal, step in front, and battle Trent and the Khereb.
“Resh,” she whispered. The wind picked up and carried her voice away but he must have heard her.
“I love you. Never forget.” He pressed a third time in warning, and with one hand thrust her toward the portal.
She spun, activated the kila, felt it drag free of her ankle sheath and heard a thump as it met flesh. Spears of red fire flashed in her peripheral vision, a scuffle, and the whistle of a sword being drawn. Then a snap of magic and a thud as something heavy rocked the ground. Hands grabbed her shoulders.
Alexandr.
She teetered for a moment, right on the edge of the portal. The smell of ozone and a long, winding passage filled with white swirls welcomed her. Her heart banged and she was pulled away, turned back to Trent. The portal door clanged shut. Alexandr stood behind, mimicking Resh’s earlier position, his chest heaving.
Trent rose unsteadily, a spool of magic wound around his reddened fingers and a long gash across his chest. Blood darkened his shirt and smoke curled from his clothes. Resh’s sword rocked on the ground near his feet.
Jhara reanimated, a squelching, rotten sound as his flesh knit together, the kila efficiently embedded to the hilt in his chest. It sucked free with a wet smacking sound and flew back to her hand.
“Pidray. That was a waste of energy.” Trent shook his head and sighed. “But I’m glad you’ve learned something in this realm. Your father will be happy to hear how well you’ve done.” He said it as if she’d executed a neat trick, like a performing horse.
Resh lay on the ground, blood leaking into his hair from a black wound on his forehead, out cold. Luminescent chains of electrical charge encased his body, dug deep into his forearms. Jhara perched over him, one talon raised to send a bolt into his heart. Static sparked and flashed.
It was too late for Resh and her—too late for anything except for holding onto memories of his face. If only she’d told him how she felt when she’d had the chance. She’d love to reverse time, do things differently. This was all her fault. Her body shook and she shoved the kila in her sheath.
Jhara’s cold blue eyes matched the sky, glittered in the light, and she wanted to look away from the suffering in them.
“It would be a shame to end his life like this. Think, Pidray.”
Alexandr tensed behind her, his fingers clamping on her shoulders until it felt like he gripped bone. “Let Resheph go. His death was not part of the bargain. You were meant to take her.” Alexandr’s indignant voice competed with the cries of the Khereb circling above.
Maya jerked as if slapped.
Trent glanced at Alexandr. “Shut up. Your usefulness is over.”
Jhara crouched on all fours like a hideous gloa
ting spider and licked blood with a long, black tongue from the warrior’s face. Tiny pustules glittered on the glossy flap of meat, and her stomach heaved in protest. The ledge creaked ominously.
It should have been a shock to learn of Alexandr’s betrayal but it wasn’t. Resh might have been blinded by his love for his friend, but Lucient’s dislike came back to haunt her. Alexandr’s beauty disguised a calculating mind, something he’d painstakingly hidden from the others. She ignored the wrench of pain in her heart.
She stepped back hard on his instep with her booted heel. Pressed with her whole weight.
“I’ll kill her and end this entire debacle.” Alexandr’s trembling hand held the sharp edge of his sword firmly beneath her chin. A trickle of blood ran down her neck. He kneed her from behind and she lost her balance and stumbled off his foot. She thought of the kila, wondered if she could end the bastard’s life, and knew if she had to, she would. Alexandr’s scent had changed from incense to sweat and fear.
Alexandr held her before him like a shield. She shifted on one heel and felt the bite of steel dig deeper beneath her chin. She could feel his arousal pressing low into her spine and shuddered in repulsion. Danger turned him on.
It surprised her when Jhara spoke.
“Goddess-born. Shall I eat the warrior? He has bloodlust. Cannot be trusted.” He pinned Resh with his double-jointed leg and bent down, breathing in Resh’s scent.
Her instincts shrieked to kill Alexandr and run for the portal.
The ledge creaked and shale rattled down the sheer cliff, fell hundreds of feet to the forest floor.
“Leave Resh alone. Get off the ledge. Your weight is going to take us all down,” she said. Her clear voice surprised her. It didn’t reveal the panic roiling through her body.
“Not without binding with us, Daughter.” Trent’s voice was the same, but tinny and remote, as if he spoke from a great distance.
His words must have proven too much for Alexandr. The sharp edge of the blade cut deeper into her throat and blood sprayed across her chest. He hardened further behind her.