Sacrifice

by Vicky Walklate

  Spotting a trail of bubbles across the water, she pursed her lips. Was the boy a water shifter, playing a trick on her? The Pikk presumably held no danger for those who could shift into aquatic animals, but she wasn’t in the mood for games. Nor was she in the mood to summon Rhetahn without good reason. Crouching in the peat at the river’s edge, she plastered on an unimpressed expression as the bubbles came closer and the surface rippled.

  There wasn’t even time to scream when a creature lunged from the depths and dragged her headfirst under the water.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Rhetahn

  Everyone remained silent as Libby shut the door and hurried past the windows. When she stumbled off the deck, Rhetahn had to stop himself from rushing after her. A nest of snakes twisted in his belly; the desperate hope his brother could return, tempered by the realization the Rondure couldn’t be used to restore his own power. To do that, he must once again sacrifice a human.

  It wouldn’t be Libby. He knew now with utmost certainty. When Jahda revealed her news, he’d wanted to weep, his relief at his brother’s second chance overwhelming. After comprehending what it meant for Libby, his despair was palpable. One veritable truth kept him focused.

  This journey would not end with her death.

  She was his to protect now, to possess, and to defend. He wasn’t comfortable with her even leaving the lodge but hadn’t wanted her to feel like his captive again.

  It didn’t matter how fleeting their time together, or the fact he was immortal, and she human. Something about her touched him deep inside, cutting through his pride and formality, excising the two thousand years of jaded apathy. He needed her, on a subconscious level even he, with his eons of existence, struggled to understand. He was excited for the future for the first time in centuries, itching to deal with the marauding demons with haste, so he could take her back to Trivium with him.

  It wasn’t the anticipation of bedding her that most enthused him, although it held plentiful appeal after her eager responsiveness earlier. It was the idea of showing her his home, his lands. Getting to know her, asking his own questions as well as answering hers. Schooling her in the pleasures of the flesh, making her tremble in his arms, teaching her how to please him, learning her carnal desires. He wanted to make love to her outside, surrounded by nature like the only two people in the realm, crying out their passion to the vast, open skies.

  A fleeting concern crossed his mind regarding her maiden status. Despite their undeniable attraction, did she wish to remain chaste until some undeserving human mustered the courage to claim her? Or would his immortality be the deterrent? He’d slept with plenty of mortals, yet the thought of watching her grow old in front of his ever-young eyes made his heart lurch. Was it selfish to take her as his own and demand she spend her prime years by his side? Would she even want to?

  Jahda cleared her throat. “Lord, I’m unsure why my news has been met with such concern. The girl was chosen as the sacrifice. Assuming the high sorcerer confirms there’s nothing wrong with her, there is no greater honor for her than to die at your hand.”

  “Bullshit. To die at my hand is the same as dying anywhere else, and Libby doesn’t deserve it.” He caught Dax’s attention. “I’ll take a council servant instead. I’ll entrust you with her safety and with preventing her from stopping me. We both know she’ll try.”

  The ground shifter’s voice and gaze were steady. “She may never forgive you.”

  Rhetahn couldn’t prevent his flinch. “At least she’ll be alive to hate me.”

  Fen cleared his throat. “Without wanting to be a doomsayer, what happens if the council aren’t journeying with any servants? The poor bastards may have fled from the demons, or even fallen under their blades, if the reports of them not harming humans are incorrect. Can a sorcerer serve as the sacrifice?”

  Rhetahn shook his head. “Although sorcerers’ descendants are viable, full members of the council are not. Their magic makes them incompatible with the ritual requirements.” He sighed. “If necessary, I will defer my own restoration until after Storren’s revival. Perhaps there will be enough power left in the Rondure to renew my own.”

  Jahda’s mouth gaped. “My lord—”

  “We don’t have time for debates and discussions.” He batted aside her protestation. “I have made my position clear. The girl is not to be harmed.”

  The woman scowled, but Fen cut off whatever retort was brewing on her tongue.

  “With your permission, Lord, I’ll finish preparing for our departure.” The water shifter gestured at the window to the sunny outlook beyond. “We’re wasting daylight now.”

  Rhetahn inclined his head. “Inform us when you’re ready.”

  “I request a private audience, Lord,” Jahda said through gritted teeth, as Fen ambled from the kitchen, farther into the house.

  Rhetahn flicked a glance at Dax, who rose obediently. “I’ll check on Libby.”

  “No, leave her be,” Rhetahn said. “She’s upset. I’ll fetch her myself in a few minutes, or I’ll send Jahda.”

  The dragon soldier clenched her fists.

  A glimmer of a smirk touched the ground shifter’s face as he followed Fen’s route from the kitchen. Jahda turned to Rhetahn, frustration swirling around her like a dark cloud.

  “My lord, in the sentry cave, the human revealed herself to be a disloyal, faithless coward. Gharrick said she was as weak-willed and mutinous when we parted ways afterward. You expect me to believe she has done enough to warrant a reprieve and the esteem of the god she betrayed? Your brothers will—”

  “My brothers are not here. Mhaljett succumbed to madness on the Zenith. Storren lies dead in the Sleets, his fate dependent on me locating the high sorcerer and taking the Rondure from him. If I can restore my power in the process, so be it, I will do whatever it takes to facilitate my mission, unless it entails harming the girl. I refuse, Lieutenant. What does that tell you?”

  “She has you bewitched,” Jahda muttered. “The little whore has fucked her way into your graces—”

  “Enough!” He surged to his feet, the chair clattering to the floor behind him.

  Jahda rose too, one hand dipping to her sword hilt then releasing it, as if suddenly remembering who she faced. She froze when he loomed close.

  “Speak of her in such a way again, and I will rip out your tongue. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Lord.” She lowered her gaze, sounding stunned.

  He straightened and sighed, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

  “Go and fetch her, please.” He softened his tone at his loyal soldier’s obvious chagrin. “Although your concern and diligence do you credit, Jahda, on this matter, I require no counsel.”

  The lieutenant’s lips thinned. She bowed low and strode toward the deck, the door clicking shut behind her.

  He picked up his chair, his fury easing. Storren would return. He wasn’t lost. Libby wouldn’t die, either. Regardless of her own intentions, or anyone else’s opinion, he wouldn’t allow it.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Libby

  Libby’s body screamed for air; lungs bursting, red and black swirls pulsing in front of her vision. The creature forced her arms by her sides, rolling them both over in the freezing river with disorientating force.

  Her ribs scraped on a rock, the pain jarring her into motion. She opened her mouth and water poured into her throat. Inwardly screaming, she bit down on the creature’s furry shoulder. Bones creaked under her teeth and a bubbling shriek reverberated as the animal let go. Pushing off the rock with her feet, she thrashed through the murky gloom toward what she desperately hoped was daylight.

  As she broke the surface with a wheezing gasp, something clutched her boot. Her scream was nothing more than a wretched gurgle. Bending double, she pried at the webbed claws, to no avail. Her hand brushed the dagger fastened above her ankle and wild hope hit her.

  Fumbling for a tortured age, she drew the knife and thrust downward, losi
ng momentum in the water. A jerk came from below when the blade made contact. Her boot was released, and she floundered through the drifting vegetation toward the bank. The current had taken her downstream, the lodge and boathouse barely discernible through the trees. She grabbed at a low-hanging branch; her chest so tight she feared her lungs would burst.

  The creature broke the surface and she quailed.

  An eachy.

  They were rare, but she’d heard enough stories about them. It studied her with its gleaming yellow eyes, flaring its flat nostrils as it took in her scent. Its brown-furred body—around the same size as a collie—was sleek and elegant, with powerful limbs and enormous webbed feet. It opened its mouth and giggled, the melodic sound a grotesque contrast to its razor-like teeth.

  On the back of its head, skin folds were positioned to represent a blurred image of a child, including a playful smile and two shiny patches resembling eyes. Eachys lured people close by crouching in shadows or vegetation with their backs to them and posing as children. She cursed her foolishness in forgetting the nightmarish myth told across her land.

  The creature stared with a hungry, considering gaze. She slashed the dagger in its direction, but it merely flipped its feet and glided out of reach.

  “Get away!” She lashed the knife again. “Get away from me!”

  Cocking its head, it dove below the surface with smooth grace.

  Oh Gods, it was coming.

  She dragged herself along the branch, her muscles shaking as she attempted to hold the blade and tree at the same time. She lunged to an exposed tree root snaking across the bank, as blunt talons slid around her ankle again.

  “Help! Rhetahn! Dax!”

  She clung to the root with all her might, as the animal seized her from behind with incredible strength. The dagger slipped from her grasp and she managed one frantic breath just as the eachy pulled her under again. She struggled vainly in the darkness as it squeezed her arms against her body. The creature spun her over and the water closed around her like a thick, muffling blanket.

  Her lungs burned, desperate for air. Her instincts demanded she open her mouth, despite knowing it would be her final act. She gave a sickened moan. How could she have come this far, to get eaten by an eachy? What would Rhetahn do if he couldn’t use her to restore his magic?

  She froze.

  Magic.

  Mustering the last of her strength, she wrenched one arm out of the animal’s grip and summoned the magic inside her.

  It rose sluggishly, as if confused by her bleary thoughts and the coldness of her environment, yet it came, making her palms tingle. With darkness closing across her mind, she flicked the hot power away from her and into the eachy.

  The answering shriek pierced her eardrums and the animal jolted back. She flailed upward, her thoughts stuttering...and she broke the surface again, gasping. The current had carried them even farther, Fen’s home obscured from view. A small, bare mudflat lay in front of her. Fueled by sheer terror, she propelled herself toward it. Glancing back, she whimpered as the eachy broke the surface. It advanced in a hungry, intent glide, patches of raw flesh on its shoulders confirming her attack had made its mark. Twisting onto her back, she raised her hands and screamed a nameless command.

  A spear of black-gold magic whipped from her hands along the surface, hitting the creature dead in the face. Blood splattered in every direction and she swam for the bank, her muscles throbbing in protestation.

  After what seemed an eternity, she collapsed onto the mudflat. Shaking and spent, she waited with weary expectancy for the eachy to lunge from the depths and drag her back into the freezing water...

  The thunder of footsteps preceded Jahda leaping on to the flat, her sword drawn.

  “Get back.” Libby raised her hand, coughing. “Eachy...”

  Something floating away downstream gave her pause. The creature lay spread-eagled in the water, glassy eyes staring at the tree canopy, ripped strands of flesh drifted from its neck and torso as it disappeared into the distance.

  Her mind seized. Surely her magic hadn’t caused such destruction?

  “Vicious fucker,” the dragon woman spat. “You got it, though. Are you all right?”

  A hysterical laugh escaped Libby, and she forced herself to her hands and knees. “Chipper.”

  Jahda sheathed her weapon. “Let me help.”

  Libby waved her off weakly. “I stink to the skies above.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating. Mud, algae and pondweed clung to her drenched clothes, their sickly, noxious odors blending to assault her sense of smell.

  Jahda snorted. “You should get a sniff of a soldier after battle. This is nothing.”

  She carried Libby off the mudflat like she weighed nothing. Even in her exhausted state, she couldn’t help feeling impressed.

  When they reached solid ground, Jahda put her down with a grimace. “You may have been right about the smell. Sorry.”

  “No problem. I can walk...oh, dammit.” Libby’s legs wobbled, and she crumpled into the musky leaf litter as male shouts echoed in the distance. She took a couple of deep breaths, trying not to retch at her reeking clothes. “Give me a moment and I’ll be up.”

  “Lord Rhetahn is coming. He can carry you if necessary.”

  “Wait.” On her knees, Libby clutched Jahda’s arm. “Tell him you caught me running away.”

  “What?”

  Libby wiped the mud from her face as the terrible, perfect idea took further shape in her mind. “It’s the only way to make him sacrifice me. He’s refused, hasn’t he? You tried to convince him, and he said no. Tell him I ran away; I was seeking the harpies to help me escape.”

  Jahda stared. “He won’t believe me.”

  “I’ll make him believe.”

  The woman shook her head. “I will not lie to a god.”

  “How else is he going to restore his power?” she fired back, her teeth chattering. “I can’t let him kill someone else in my place, and he needs to regain his full strength to defeat the demons. You must see that. Please, Jahda. Say it, I’ll back you up, and his pride will do the rest.”

  “Fine.” The reluctance was obvious in the soldier’s tone. “We can try. But if he figures it out, it’ll be on your head.” She hoisted Libby to her feet.

  Racked with shivers, she pretended to struggle when Rhetahn skidded to a halt next to them, his sword loose in his hand.

  “What happened?” He studied her drenched, mud-soaked clothes with wide, crimson-flared eyes.

  “I caught her trying to escape.” Jahda hefted Libby’s arms behind her back with such force she winced.

  “Don’t be absurd,” Rhetahn said, as Dax and Fen arrived, studying them in confusion. “Let her go, Lieutenant.”

  When Jahda released her, Libby staggered toward the waterway as if trying to flee. The soldier caught her upper arms again.

  Rhetahn stepped toward her. “Libby—”

  “I don’t want to die!”

  “You won’t. I’d never hurt you, little cat. You don’t have to be afraid.”

  She attempted a panic-stricken laugh. After what she’d just been through, it wasn’t difficult to achieve. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s back on the menu as the sacrifice again.”

  Jahda cleared her throat. “I caught her trying to swim across the Pikk, Lord. I suspect she was seeking harpies. She queried their possible locations in the kitchen, remember?”

  “That’s true, she did,” Fen said to the skeptical god.

  Dax didn’t say anything, scrutinizing her with intensity. Avoiding his eyes, she feigned fury and wriggled in Jahda’s arms.

  “Utter nonsense,” Rhetahn snapped at Fen, then addressed Libby in a softer tone. “Little cat, calm yourself. Your panic is clouding your judgement—”

  “Help,” she screamed. “Help, harpies, please help me!”

  Jahda clapped a hand across her mouth. Dax and Fen drew their weapons with muttered curses, their gazes swinging across
the surroundings as if expecting enemies to appear at any moment.

  The god raised his palms upward in exasperation. “Libby, enough. This won’t work, I’m not going to sacrifice you. I’ll take a servant instead and we’ll both have to live with it.”

  She conjured a look of derision when Jahda removed her hand.

  “Don’t bother,” she retorted. “I mean, what is the realm missing by your absence? A weak, selfish relic from the past who idles in his castle, caring nothing for the fate of others. Perhaps you and your wretched brothers are better off this way. One dead, another mad, and the final one abandoned in the wilderness.”

  Rhetahn stilled at her callous words. Jahda too, like she couldn’t believe her ears. Dax and Fen gaped; their watchfulness forgotten. She continued in the same contemptuous tone, hating herself more with every scornful word.

  “The harpy made it clear your time was done. Perhaps The Three were great deities once, I don’t know, but you’re not the mighty warrior gods you claim to be. Maybe the sorcerers have recognized that too, hence why they allied with demons.” She directed her next words at the other shifters. “What if the demons were never the enemy? Perhaps that’s what the dragons want us to believe, to keep us bowing and scraping like beetles under their boots. We haven’t heard the demons’ story, have we? They’re not harming humans or other shifters, only dragons. They’re coming to our aid, to free us from The Three’s reign! We should fight with them, not against them.”

  “For fucks sake, Libby.” The god rubbed his temples.

  “I need you, Libby.” She echoed his earlier words with a deliberate sneer. “I don’t know why, I just do.”

  He shuffled his feet, flicking a glance at their companions.

  Steeling herself, she continued with a jeer. “You’ve gotten under my skin, little cat. I don’t want to harm you anymore. Come back to Trivium with me, please. I’ve lost my brothers, I need you.” She rolled her eyes. “You begged me to stay with you. What weak, false god pleads with a lowly human like me? What pitiful, so-called warrior needs a girl to hold his hand?”