Giahem's Talons

by Katharine Wibell

  “You go first, please,” Lluava said. Still physically tired from her stressful homecoming, she welcomed the brief respite.

  Talos and Rosalyn took turns explaining their experiences, stopping only when Rosalyn made tea to ward off the unseasonable chill.

  Talos took up the narrative. “Since your escape, Rosalyn and I have been doing our best to lie low. The high priestess has instigated many changes, including renaming the city New Rhadamanthus.”

  “I heard that,” said Lluava as she tucked a footstool under her still-tender feet. “And that you were moved into the city.”

  “Those first days were horrifying,” Rosalyn chimed in. “So many humans were killed. Their bodies were thrown over the walls and left to the wild animals and the Raiders. All Theriomorphs were called up to make our personal pledges to High Priestess Yena and the old faith. We were asked what our occupations were prior to the new order.” Rosalyn looked at her husband and grasped his hand.

  Lluava turned to Talos. “What did you say?”

  “That my wife and I come from nobility and that I had enlisted when the Raiders began to attack.”

  “You told them the truth?”

  “I could not risk a lie being discovered. I did say that the reason I enlisted was to protect the people I loved.” He smiled at Rosalyn. “I was ordered to desist from fighting unless called upon. Since Rosalyn professed herself a healer, she was allowed to continue that work.”

  Rosalyn explained, “Along with the majority of the surviving nobility, Talos was assigned a new occupation. Everyone has to do his or her share here. Because Talos is well educated, he teaches some of the citywide mandatory classes. Do you want to explain?”

  Nodding, Talos continued, “Everyone living inside the walls must participate in one of several reeducation classes pertaining to the old faith.” Lluava remembered having to do the same in Leucrocotta. “Three four-hour sessions are offered daily. Every person must attend one of them, depending on which best fits their schedule. The high priestess seems to believe that she can reunite our race—one people, one culture, one realm, one religion—as we once were.”

  “Yena,” Lluava interjected, “has a strong belief of how things should be.”

  “Yes. That is very clear,” agreed Talos. “The ruire—her counterpart, as you know— demands a certain order. Everyone keeps busy schedules. We have little time for ourselves. I suspect he does this to prevent any uprisings.”

  “Is the ruire still Thoth?” questioned Lluava.

  “I think that is his name.”

  “He is still alive? He delivered a personal message to me a few days ago but was badly injured. I wasn’t sure he had survived.”

  Talos shrugged and Rosalyn replied, “I have not seen him in a week, but I do not have access to the sick ward inside the castle. The priestess uses her own healers for those who live there.” Rosalyn hesitated, then looked at Talos, “Tell her about the attack.”

  Sensing Lluava’s concern, he quickly explained, “Not long after the uprising, another wave of warriors from the Outlander army tried to enter Cronus. The second wave must have been held in reserve while Yena was capturing the city. When they arrived, they were all but demolished by the Raiders, who were waiting outside the walls. Only a fraction of the Theriomorphs were able to enter Cronus.” He paused, then added, “None of the surviving Cronians were involved in that skirmish.”

  Glancing at Rosalyn’s belly, Lluava said, “I’m just glad you three are safe and sound.”

  Talos and Rosalyn smiled at each other. Then Talos asked, “How about you? How have you fared?”

  Lluava understood that they wanted to know if Varren was still alive and if their king was planning anything to assist Elysia. She filled them in on all that had occurred since her flight with Varren into Tartarus, from her experience in Erebos to battling the Raiders alongside Yamir and Derrick. The young couple listened intently. Talos was relieved when he heard that his military partner, Byron, was still with their king. Lluava hoped that one day the two men would be partners once more, but that would depend on her completing her objective.

  When she told them about Thad’s demise, her friends’ faces were grim, though to Lluava’s surprise, Talos consoled her, saying that not everyone could be that strong, and Rosalyn agreed.

  Lluava’s voice dropped to a whisper as her story neared its end. “I need to persuade most if not all of the Theriomorphs to unite with me and fight the Raiders alongside Varren’s army. We must crush them once and for all. Yet I cannot fulfill what Yena desires. It might not make sense, but even if Selene releases her hold on Apex, how could I have relations with him, when I still have feelings for Varren?”

  Rosalyn and Talos exchanged a glance. They understood Lluava’s caution. Luka, the Incarn of the trickster god Shennue and brother to Lluava’s personal enemy, waited somewhere outside. As much as she wanted to, Lluava would never trust Luka; she could not risk him overhearing her true intentions.

  Bending close, Talos gripped Lluava’s shoulder firmly. “We are always on your side.”

  Rosalyn stood up. “Now, where did I set that bucket?” She scanned the room, retracing her previously distracted steps.

  Talos explained, “It contains her medical supplies.”

  Looking quite confident, Rosalyn held up the wooden container. “You said Derrick was injured. What are we waiting for?”

  Outside, they met the waiting Luka, who was obviously happy at the relief of his boredom and helped the trio track down the whereabouts of Derrick. The dark-skinned soldier had been placed in a special facility due to the severity of his stab wounds.

  A former estate house had been converted to a makeshift hospital. Stripped of furniture and the frivolities of luxury, the large home accommodated the most seriously injured clansmen. When Rosalyn saw that only one doctor and three nurses were desperately trying to care for the wounded, she immediately offered her assistance. Lluava knew little about medical practices, and Talos had had no training at all. They were told to wait outside.

  “I hope your friend will be well,” consoled Luka.

  “Thank you,” Talos replied, and Lluava added, “We’ve known him for a while. He’s a fighter. He can get through this.”

  Yet the image of Derrick bleeding profusely as he was assisted to safety remained in Lluava’s mind. She could not deny the possibility that she might lose another friend that day. Taking seats on the building’s stoop, the trio waited patiently for word from Rosalyn.

  “What are you thinking about?” Lluava finally asked Talos, whose expression had grown distant.

  “Waiting,” the young man sighed. “Not just for this answer, but overall.”

  Luka, wanting to join in, asked, “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “This waiting that the Raiders are forcing us to endure,” began Talos. “I am trying to figure out if they are toying with us, working on their own strategy, or hoping to starve us out.”

  Furrowing her brow, Lluava said, “I don’t understand.”

  “Since you left,” Talos explained, “though the Raiders did cut down the Outlander reinforcements before they reached Cronus, there have been no attempts by the Raiders to breach the walls or the main gate of the city. We know they can find ways to scale the walls, since they have done so in the past.”

  “But they were never able to enter in numbers,” Luka pointed out, proud that he knew something of military strategy.

  “True. But they only need to send one of their Berserkers over the wall to open the gate from the inside. Then their army would be able to rush the city.”

  “And we would take them down in the streets,” countered Lluava.

  “We might be able to hold them off, but think about the damage they could do.” Talos shook his head, sending his golden hair dancing. “Something is wrong. It is not that they have made an unsuccessful attempt, but that they have made no attempt at all. They are waiting. We are waiting. But for what? They must have some plan. I onl
y wish I knew what it was.”

  Luka, catching on, agreed. “It’s almost as if they were toying with us.”

  “Why else have they not attacked Cronus outright?”

  “Do they think that they have already won?”

  “Or do they know?”

  Lluava broke into the men’s debate. “It’s impossible to know anything about the future.” Having spoken, she realized that was not true. Yena had the gift of prophecy. She would never have allowed her people to be caught in such a large trap. Yet hadn’t Thoth told Lluava just that? They were all doomed, he had said. She wondered if she should speak to the high priestess. She hated Yena—but what if there was a chance to turn the war?

  Looking up, Lluava saw Yamir approaching. Although exhausted, he greeted Talos with a firm yet friendly embrace. As Talos and Yamir began catching up, she suddenly remembered another person supposedly able to see the future.

  “Yamir,” Lluava interrupted. “What happened to Grandmother? I know she had been traveling with us, but did she make it into Cronus?”

  “New Rhadamanthus,” Luka whispered.

  Yamir looked wearily at her. “I don’t know. I just came from getting a head count of the Cloven-Hoofed Clan. She is not among us.”

  Aghast, Lluava began, “You don’t think—”

  “No,” countered Yamir. “Her wagon was not accounted for on the last day of travel. Some believe she knew what awaited us and that she left when we headed here.” Seeing the distressed look on his friend’s face, he added, “Don’t worry. There is a good chance that Grandmother will outlive us all.”

  The conversation moved to other topics. The day continued to wane. Lluava finally turned to Luka with a yawn. “You really don’t have to wait for us. I know Derrick isn’t your friend.”

  “True,” noted Luka. “But you are, so I will wait.”

  Lluava did not need to say how grateful she was; Luka already understood.

  As time passed sluggishly, her yawning became uncontrollable. Luka studied the dark circles under the young woman’s eyes. “Lluava, you really need to sleep. Have you eaten anything? You should be resting.”

  “No. I’m fine,” she retorted, trying to blink away her exhaustion.

  Talos added, “You should listen to him. Rosalyn’s looking after Derrick. If you push yourself too much, you will be useless to us if an attack does occur on the city.”

  Grudgingly, Lluava consented to return to her rooms. Luka walked her back. Lanterns were being lit about the city. Above, clouds choked out any starlight. The moon’s presence was obscured.

  Entering her chamber, Lluava saw Aquila standing by the double doors to the balcony. She wondered if he had moved even once during the entire day. Although she yearned for bed, she noticed a tray of food left on a table. Taking a seat on the couch, she was readjusting her position when she felt something small and hard under her. The vial of Idun lay where she had discarded it earlier.

  “Luka?” Lluava hoped her friend was still within earshot.

  Luka’s lanky form re-emerged from the doorway.

  “I need you to do me a big favor, right away.” Handing him the vial, she said, “Take this to Rosalyn. If I know Yena, she will save the reserves of Idun for the Outlanders. If Derrick is to survive, he will need this. Please.”

  Inclining his head slightly, Luka said, “It will be my pleasure. Now, rest, Lluava. You will need it.”

  Once he had left, Lluava began to hungrily eat her cold dinner. Watching from a distance, Aquila noted, “Your bird did not like the server.”

  “Onyx has always held his own opinions of people,” replied Lluava as she sliced into a shank of lamb. The cut of meat was incredibly tender and well-seasoned. In the midst of stuffing a second roll into her mouth, she asked Aquila, “Do you want some?”

  “The smell is foreign to me.”

  Taking that to mean no, Lluava finished her meal. Leaning back, she unfolded the cloth napkin to wipe her mouth, and something fluttered to the ground. Picking the item up, she inspected the white-tipped gray feather with its black stripe. Her whole body grew rigid.

  Aquila had approached from behind. He must have sensed Lluava’s change of mood and asked, “A warning?”

  “No. A threat.”

  Chapter 19

  Giahem’s Talons

  More problems were about to arise. The feather was proof. Feeling drained of all energy, Lluava sank down onto the couch.

  “There is a Theriomorph here by the name of Maruny,” she told Aquila. “Her dual form is the mockingbird.” Lluava twirled the feather’s quill between her thumb and forefinger and watched the white flash of the tip. “She believes that I killed her mate, Zeek, or at least that I let him die.” Aquila’s eyes bored into her, and Lluava quickly countered. “I didn’t. I actually tried to save him, but Maruny will never accept the truth.”

  Old emotions refreshed themselves. Lluava took a long, shaky breath. “When I lived here before the Fall, I had a little handmaiden, a young servant girl, June. She was only nine years old. When Yena gave the order to butcher all humans, I knew I needed to make sure June got to safety.” Lluava began to ramble. “We were running through the castle when Maruny found us. She grabbed hold of June and had a knife. She said she just wanted me to come with her. I would have…I was going to… in order to keep June safe. Then an Elysian soldier appeared. Maruny panicked, and…” Lluava silently raised a hand to touch her throat. “I held June while she died. I felt her slip away.”

  Tears rolled down Lluava’s cheeks. “June died. Maruny lived. And now she wants me to know that she is still here and that she has not forgotten about Zeek.”

  “She wishes you harm?” Aquila asked. “I will not allow that.”

  “You might not have a choice,” said Lluava, oddly grateful for the nomad’s temporary turnaround.

  “I will not allow outside harm to come your way.” He was serious in tone and appearance. “I promise you that.”

  Maybe Aquila was genuinely concerned for her, or maybe just for his own life should Lluava be slain within this Theriomorph stronghold. But what did it matter? Turning away from him, she quickly wiped her face. “You need to have a weapon about you at all times. I’ll get you a dagger or a sword, whichever you prefer.”

  “I want only my bow,” Aquila replied. Giahem’s Wings was still in his hand.

  Lluava didn’t argue. There is a special bond between a person and their weapon of choice. Knowing this, she said, “Then you’re going to need some arrows.”

  ***

  After a long but fitful sleep, Lluava and Aquila took turns bathing and refreshing themselves. The nomad was awed by the various pools—hot, lukewarm, and iced—in the cathedral-sized washroom. After reassuring him that it was not witchcraft but underground hot springs that allowed the pools, Lluava left him to strip down and swim.

  Returning to her room, she brushed her silvery hair. Her locks were finally growing out again. Though they were not nearly as long as they once had been, Lluava braided them in a way June had taught her.

  Walking onto the balcony, Lluava scanned the lightening sky. The moon’s waning crescent was hidden by a ceiling of clouds. How long ago was the night she had first stepped out onto this precipice beneath a full moon? Closing her eyes, she recalled the sensations she had experienced when Varren approached her and they shared their first kiss. She could still vividly remember the taste of his lips and his subtle scent, rosemary and fennel. That had been at the beginning of autumn, and now an overly cool spring had taken hold.

  Opening her eyes slowly, she could see the awakening city below. The day would begin soon. She had much to do. There was no time to dwell on old fantasies or past romances. Turning around, Lluava was startled; a man stood by the balcony doors.

  Apex appraised her coolly. “You’re thinking about Varren.”

  Lluava gave a broken laugh and nodded.

  Stiffly, Apex moved toward her. Close up, Lluava could see that his tired, bloodsho
t eyes struggled to focus. Somewhere deep inside, Apex was fighting Selene’s grip and losing. Knowing that the one other man she cared for was being manipulated just as Varren once had been, Lluava laughed anew. Surely, she sounded like a mad person, but who cared? Apex—the huntsman, the Incarn of Ullr, God of War—was as helpless as a whimpering pup.

  Still, her heart beat rapidly as she stood near him. She had to concentrate not to speak rapidly. “It’s funny, you know?” Lluava did not wait for an answer. She knew this would be a one-sided conversation. “After all this,” she gestured at Apex’s state, “abandoning you to save Elysia’s king, I ended up losing you both. Selene has you now.”

  In a voice as hollow as Lluava felt, Apex replied, “I love Selene.”

  “With the same passion as Varren did, I’m sure.” Lluava stared at the tuft of chest hair that curled over Apex’s bronze button-up shirt. He was groomed far too well, dressed far too nicely. She could not stop noticing Selene’s influence all over him. Yet she could clearly remember the feeling of those chest hairs between her fingers as they kissed lustfully only a season ago.

  “Well,” Lluava said, bending close to the huntsman’s ear, “I’ll tell you a secret. Varren and I are never to be.” These were the words Apex had yearned to hear, but there was no change in the huntsman’s demeanor. Under Selene’s control, all that was left was the shell of a man unable to think for himself.

  “You know why?” Lluava asked, not caring that she might as well speak to empty air. “Because I killed Thad in front of him. Thad, his closest childhood friend. There was no going back after that. I did what I needed to do,” she said confidently. “I made that choice to protect my king. And for that, I lost the man I loved.”

  She had always been able to express her darkest thoughts to Apex, her worst fears. In this, he was like Varren, or had been until the Fall of Cronus. “What makes this whole situation even more ironic is that just as I am coming to terms with that loss, I’m faced with another.” Lluava reached up and placed her hand upon Apex’s bristly jawline. “I’ve lost you as well.”