Crack!
The dish in her hand shattered and sent numerous shards into the water. Lluava watched them sink under the murky bubbles.
“Here, take this.” Odel passed Lluava a clean washcloth.
Noticing that her hand was bleeding, she allowed the boy to wrap her wound before the blood contaminated the water.
“I’ll get someone to clean out the tub,” noted the boy as he hurried to talk to one of the older and stronger acolytes. Everything was removed and replaced quickly.
Gesturing toward her hand, Odel told her, “I’ll wash. You dry.”
Quietly, Lluava switched positions and began her new task. Now the throbbing pain of her hand competed with the pain of not knowing whether Apex was alive or dead.
“Whatever is haunting you, you must let it go,” Odel told Lluava as he handed her a dripping platter.
Wiping a tear with her sleeve, Lluava said in as kindly a tone as she could muster, “You don’t know what I’ve seen.”
“Here, we are taught not to linger in the past but to move toward the future.”
Lluava regarded the boy as he continued to clean dish after dish. His loose curls hung low from the humidity trapped in the kitchen. He seemed to focus only on his work, never complaining or daydreaming of fonder things.
“I’m a Theriomorph, you know,” stated Lluava. She was curious to see how the young boy would take this news.
“No.”
This response startled Lluava. Odel continued as he stacked clean plates in Lluava’s arms, “You are more than that. You should not minimize yourself with base descriptors. Nobody is just one thing or another. Each of us is more, and each of us is unique.”
“How old are you?” Lluava asked, following the boy to some empty shelves.
Odel smiled. “Old enough to give my opinion.”
“Ha! I like you, Odel,” Lluava said as the boy began stacking dishes on a shelf. “I like you a lot.”
For the rest of the afternoon, Lluava enjoyed the company of her new companion. She was awed by the child’s profound statements and his thoughtfulness in the smallest of things.
“I have a pet raven.”
All the excitement of childhood flickered in Odel’s eyes.
“Would you like to meet him?” Lluava asked.
“I would if I did not have studies to attend to after this.” Odel was clearly disappointed.
“I’ll bring him tomorrow. I think he would like to leave the confines of my room.”
That was exactly what Lluava did. To her complete surprise, Kido did not object to the black-feathered creature perching on Lluava’s shoulder as she washed dishes. Odel was beside himself. The ringing of the child’s laughter could be heard periodically through the kitchen door. Even the older acolytes, who were usually much more reserved, fed the raven scraps from their hands and let him tug clumps of their hair.
As Odel and Lluava left that night, she asked the old bird, “Do you like our new friend?”
Onyx fluttered over to the boy’s shoulder and seemed to dance, bobbing and turning and making snapping noises with his beak. Pushing through the door, the pair burst out in giggles.
Lluava’s laughter was cut short at the sight of Head Councilman Themis. He was seated at one of the long tables, where he was finishing the remnants of a long-drawn-out meal. As he stared back at her, she could have sworn she saw him raise an eyebrow, but a different angle proved her wrong.
“Themis,” she acknowledged curtly as Onyx returned to her shoulder.
If the councilman was insulted at the deliberate omission of his title, he did not show it. Instead, the silver-haired man replied, “Lluava, where have you been keeping yourself?”
“I’ve found ways to avoid idling that are actually beneficial to those in this city.” Lluava did not want to become ensnared in Themis’s web of wordplay. She hoped he would be satisfied and let her leave.
He was not.
“Making friends, I see,” he noted, as Odel slipped away silently. “You do realize the Obsidian Guard was founded to kill your race, don’t you? It will be hard to make a true friend here. Word of advice: try not to get your hopes up too high.”
“No worries,” Lluava forced a smile. “What other friend do I need than you?”
“I’m an advisor,” began the councilman as he sipped on some steeped tea. “That is what comes naturally to me. You,” he said, as he sliced into his steak, allowing the juices to ooze out, “are a natural soldier and thus meant to take orders. When everyone keeps to what is natural, the world moves smoothly. You, more than most, should be aware of what happens when someone acts unnaturally. Soldiers are not meant to proffer new ideas or personal opinions, for that is when disaster strikes.”
Lluava felt her inner heat rise. If it boiled over, she would shift into her dual form. How would Themis taste? Probably gamey and rotten. Lluava held her tongue.
“I must give you credit for your inner strength,” Themis said as he took a bite of the steak. “I should find it hard to get up in the morning knowing that I was the cause of the destruction of all those innocent lives in the capital. I fear if I were in your shoes, I would consider ending everything. But then, you are much hardier emotionally than I.”
Lluava’s pupils narrowed like a housecat preparing for a kill. Quickly looking down, she heard Themis take another bite, chew slowly, then swallow.
“Well,” he added, “I hope you do not continue to make yourself so scarce. I have barely seen you since our arrival.”
Regaining some of her composure, Lluava looked back at the councilman. “Actually, I think I’ve seen more of you now than on my journey here.”
“You always had a sense of humor,” noted Themis as he wiped his lips on his personal handkerchief. “As long as one has a sense of humor, one’s spirit is not completely broken.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” replied Lluava. “Now, I must excuse myself.” She left before Themis had time to respond.
As she crossed the base of the mound, once again the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. She scanned the area. The Shadows did not seem to be interested in her movements. Looking up, Lluava peered at each pockmarked indentation that represented a window portal or unused cell. The illusion of movement came only from the flickering of scattered firelight. She moved on.
***
That night, Lluava found it difficult to rest. Though her dreams of animals tearing apart human corpses had dissipated, her nightmares of Berserkers gutting person after person caused her to jerk awake in a sweat. After her fifth attempt, she splashed her face with water and decided to wait out the night. Only when Onyx pecked her clothes did she shake off her drowsiness and make her way to the kitchen.
“Not this time,” she said to the raven as she placed him on his perch. Onyx cawed unhappily but did not fly after her. Maybe he had some intelligence after all.
Kido was waiting at the door when she arrived. His voice creaked like his bones when he walked. “Your service is no longer needed.”
“Wha…wh…why?” Lluava blustered as she looked over Kido’s narrow shoulder to see Odel’s puzzled expression.
“We truly appreciate the help you gave.” Bowing, Kido waited patiently until Lluava left of her own will.
Glancing at the slowly filling long tables, Lluava hissed, “Themis.”
Once again, the councilman had found a way to strip her life of what little joy she could find. Charging out of the meal hall, Lluava spotted Themis walking with Varren, Byron, and Thad.
“You couldn’t leave me alone, could you?” Lluava screamed as she rushed toward the councilman. “You had to take that away from me!”
Themis looked shocked. Clearly, he was a practiced liar. Lluava shoved the councilman hard enough that he stumbled to the ground.
“What is going on?” demanded Varren as he moved to intervene.
“None of your concern,” snarled Lluava. She turned back to the councilman and snapped, “Why do you hate
me so?”
“Calm down, Lluava.” Varren’s order was sharp. “Whatever the problem is, we will deal with this rationally.” Turning toward all the watchful eyes, he assured them, “Everything is all right.”
But it wasn’t. As head councilman, Themis wielded immense power and abused it. He had purposely kept news of the war from old King Thor’s ears. He had minimized the danger when he could have defended the kingdom by moving the Elysian forces into position. It was even rumored that he was responsible for several mysterious murders, including the girl Varren had gotten pregnant in his youth. Themis had deftly manipulated the enfeebled king until Varren, Thor’s spirited grandson, ascended the throne upon the king’s death. Moreover, Themis despised the Theriomorph race. Although he did not have the authority to destroy her people, he took great pleasure in persecuting the young woman. Themis was truly evil.
Lluava moved to attack.
Varren intervened. Grabbing Lluava’s shoulder, he flipped her to the ground. If her old injury had not healed, her shoulder would have certainly been dislocated.
Releasing an enraged roar, Lluava struggled to contain the beast inside. “There is no we,” she spat, rejecting Varren’s extended hand.
Righting herself, she could see that the whole mound had become one black mass. As if the darkness had come to life, the black-suited Obsidian Guard all held their weapons at the ready, waiting for any sign that Lluava intended harm to their king. She backed away from Varren.
Looking at the shocked faces of Byron and Thad, Lluava turned away from her former military partner. “I will not stay away from the front lines much longer. The war needs to be won, and that will not happen inside this place.”
Themis stated coldly, “She is unstable and needs serious help.”
As Lluava turned to leave, she heard Thad repeat his earlier warning, “Keep away from them. The blue monsters. Far away.”
***
Jigo met Lluava at her quarters. “You like to act without much thought.”
“Themis deserved it,” she snarled as she moved past the Guard.
“How so?” asked Jigo, following her inside.
“He hates me. Always has. He had me barred from working in the kitchen.”
“Were you asked to work there?”
“No.”
“Then why did you start?”
Lluava tried to explain, “They needed help, so I helped.”
Jigo inclined his head thoughtfully. “Were you told why they released you?”
“They said…” Lluava realized how ridiculous this must sound to him. “They said that they did not need me anymore.”
“Then what proof do you have that the high councilman influenced that decision?”
Sinking sulkily onto her mat, Lluava admitted, “None. I guess.”
“I suggest that you keep to your room for a little while,” noted Jigo. “I will bring you breakfast shortly.”
“Ah…” griped Lluava after he left. “Why is everything so hard?” Then, staring at the far wall, she questioned aloud, “Apex, where are you?”
***
The day passed dreadfully slowly. After handing Jigo her dinner tray, Lluava curled up on her mat and tried to sleep. Her dreams took shape in new ways. She was in a forest. Slushy puddles of melting snow soaked into her shoes, yet she felt no cold. A rabbit hopped about not far out of reach, completely oblivious to Lluava’s presence. Taking a moment to clean its long ears, the rabbit sat for a moment.
Suddenly, the creature bolted.
A new beast lunged into sight. This one’s form matched Lluava’s tigress in size. Long, metallic-bronze fur coated the Yorrick wolverine that sniffed at a reddened patch of snow before moving toward another drift. Apex was here before her! Somehow, she knew he was searching for her. All she had to do was call to him, but she had no voice.
She tried to run to him. He needed to see her. Yet something held her back. A thick, cold cord was wrapped around her throat, strangling her. Lluava clawed at the scaly mass.
The anaconda hissed into her ear, “He’s mine.”
Jerking awake, she gasped for breath. She felt the tightening pressure of a rope around her throat.
While Lluava had slept, she had been noosed and the cord pulled tight.
Chapter 6
Beyond the Plains
With a sudden, forceful jerk, Lluava careened sideways. The noose pulled her across the small room’s floor until she slammed into the closed door.
She tried to yank the end of the cord free, feeling her face flush and pressure build in her head. Her fingers fumbled behind her, only to discover that the taut rope had slid under the small gap at the base of the door. Her assailant was on the other side.
Balling one hand into a fist, Lluava beat on the door; her other hand struggled to loosen the rope. She reached for the handle. As her sweaty fingers slipped on the metal, she realized that the door opened inward. Her own body was pinning it shut.
The world around her wavered. Without warning, she felt a second presence—that thing inside her—awaken, and she accepted the goddess’s aid. As Lluava’s inner fire blazed through her arms, her fingernails shifted into four-inch claws that easily severed the cord.
Gasping for air, the young woman rolled forward and crawled away from the door. Forcing herself up on shaky knees, she threw it open. Footsteps faded down the corridor. The discarded cord lay on the ground.
First stumbling, then running, Lluava determined not to let her attacker escape. She might not have Issaura’s Claws, but she did have one deadly weapon: herself. Time to let the tigress out.
In mere seconds, Lluava would become a giant felid hunting down her prey. She permitted her inner heat to explode throughout her body. Just as her skin began to blister and bubble, she heard a woman shout, “Stop!”
Holly’s sudden order jarred Lluava. She hesitated and retained her human form. Manifesting from the shadows, Holly appeared, fully dressed in her black bodysuit.
“Lluava, return to your quarters immediately!”
“I was just attacked!” Lluava tried to scream, but her bruised throat made the words almost inaudible.
Holly’s green eyes observed Lluava’s neck. “I’ll go with you.”
“What’s…” Lluava began as her throat seared with pain, “going on?” She would have asked more, but her aching neck made her question shorter.
“If I only knew,” Holly replied.
Lluava noticed that the female Guard held several throwing suns. What would Holly have done if Lluava had shifted? Would those suns have targeted her? Surely, Holly would have given her a chance to explain. Wouldn’t she?
Returning to Lluava’s room, the Shadow asked, “Do you know who that was? Can you sense anything?”
Had the situation been less serious, Lluava would have laughed at the naiveté of the human’s grasp of Theriomorph capabilities. She could not risk allowing her senses to heighten. She took a deep breath and tried to scent the dissipating undertone of the assailant.
“Human, male,” was all Lluava could identify. Unfortunately, that meant the person who wanted her dead could be almost anyone in Erebos.
Holly picked up the severed cord. Studying the would-be weapon, Lluava realized that it was not actually a rope but dingy strips of hide braided to create the long noose.
“I need to talk to Regin,” Holly said, mainly to herself. “Stay here. I’ll send someone to keep watch.”
After Holly left, Lluava asked herself what would happen if the person Holly sent were the one who had tried to kill her. Any number of people might prefer her dead. Erebos was proving far too dangerous for her liking.
Shortly there was a knock at the door. Lluava half expected to see Jigo’s garbed face; instead, when she opened the door, Byron’s tired eyes smiled back at her. He handed her a warm cup of tea.
“To sooth your throat,” he said as she took a seat on her mat.
Byron stood to one side of the door and tried not to yawn. �
�So, what’s been going on with you lately?”
“That’s not funny, Byron,” Lluava said rather tersely. “If you cared, you would have been around.”
Byron’s posture tensed. “I don’t understand you. What’s going through your head?” The normally easygoing young man looked angry. “You have rebuffed everyone who cares about you since we arrived—Varren, Thad, me. You have become a sullen, moody, almost loathsome thing. Where is my friend? What happened to her?”
Lluava pointed a finger at her own chest. “I’m the problem? How is it that I’m at fault, when Varren practically told me to step out of his life?” Refusing to cry, she continued, “I have been stripped of everything, everything, and then told to step aside by someone who matters so much to me. He told me to keep away!”
Tears sprang into her eyes, although now they were caused by the searing pain in her throat. She took a sip of the warm tea to ease the tenderness. The added honey was soothing.
Byron moved over to her and knelt down. “Don’t you see that you are both hurting right now? You’re not the only one who lost something. We all have. To get through this, we need each other more than ever.”
“You,” Lluava said in a milder tone, “should stop caring for me. All I caused—” She took another sip of tea to muffle her sob.
“Lluava,” Byron began softly, “one must learn to live with the choices one makes. Yours were well meant, though they had poor consequences. You must not let the resulting tragedy consume you, or you will never allow yourself to make a decision that could prove beneficial.” He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “But only you can stop torturing yourself.”
As Byron stood up and readjusted his scabbard, Lluava pointed out, “You know you have not lost Talos. He’s alive. I have faith.”
“Perhaps,” acknowledged her friend. “But I did lose my mother. She was still in Bail when the Raiders took the North.”
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