Giahem's Talons

by Katharine Wibell

  Without hesitation, the first man attacked, and the other two mirrored his actions. Lluava was unable to avoid a confrontation. Slashing out threateningly, she tried to scare them off. Her tactics were futile; Selene’s pawns refused to stop. The tigress defended herself against the charging nobles down the full length of the chamber. Blood flowed from her wounds as well as from those of the men.

  Weak as she already was, this proved trying. The presence inside her implored release, yet Lluava wanted no more blood on her hands.

  Only after the sickening snap of a leg did all three men suddenly seem to be released from the spell. Bewildered, they looked in horror at the blood-splattered tigress before them and their deceased comrade on the floor. Dropping their weapons, they withdrew as fast as the two could carry the injured man. The corpse was left behind.

  “There goesss your reputation,” hissed Selene from above. “Pity.”

  Summoning the will to continue their horrid game, Lluava scanned the chamber and wondered where the snake would appear next. She did not speculate long. The anaconda struck from above. Lluava worked hard to evade the snake’s quick reflexes.

  Selene was unlike any opponent she had ever faced before. Every inch of the serpent was deadly, for every inch could contort to constrict its prey. Its wide maw sported abhorrent, venomous fangs, lethal daggers ready to puncture vital arteries or tendons. Its jaws could unhinge to swallow her entire form. The creature could climb, coil, and spring. With its great size, it could lash its tail almost the full length of the hall. There was nowhere to retreat, no place to hide.

  Lluava had to keep ahead of the gaping mouth and lethal coils. Surely her own endurance was greater than the serpent’s. Moreover, the anaconda was not designed to give chase. Yet, as Selene continued to lash out again and again, Lluava’s defensive tactics were weakening.

  Incarn were not meant to kill one another, that was clearly understood. Yet if Lluava could not inflict severe harm on Selene, how could she overpower the serpent? How could she gain Suada’s Venom and save her friend?

  Then Lluava realized she couldn’t.

  If Selene lived, her friend would die. If she harmed Selene, how would that affect her own destiny? Weren’t all Incarn supposed to unite for one great purpose? When, she wondered, had she begun to believe in the power of fate? This was her life. Hers. Why should she give something or someone else control over it?

  Distracted by her thoughts, Lluava lost her focus on the serpent’s long form. Abruptly, the thick green tail slammed down in front of her. She crashed into it and then fell backward.

  The power of the attack knocked the wind out of her. Gasping for breath, she realized she had been perfectly positioned for Selene’s purpose. A second later, the tigress was wrapped in the anaconda’s coils, her life slowly being squeezed out.

  The strength of Selene’s dual form was incredible. Suada’s Venom could not be taken by force, that was clear. Yet with each tightening sinew, Lluava questioned Selene’s actual motive. What if the woman’s true intent had always been to kill her?

  Releasing a furious roar, the tigress concentrated her energy and forced each digit of her forepaws to curl, then drove her gilded claws into the muscular body of the snake. Opening her own mouth, she tore into the scaled hide, tongue and teeth ripping and slashing at the snake’s flesh.

  In response, Selene’s muscles tightened further. Lluava’s sight began to waver. Her lungs burned. As her own grip slackened, images of family and friends flashed before her. Was she dying?

  The fire in her chest spread through the rest of her body. From whiskers to tail, a hot energy coursed through her. Suddenly, Lluava was able to thrust free. Tigress and serpent stared at each other, puzzled. Several open wounds on the anaconda oozed blood. The room became so silent that the drip, drip, drip of the crimson droplets splattering on the marble floor echoed in the cavernous space.

  Locking eyes with the serpent, the tigress prepared to make her next move. But move she could not. This time, invisible coils enveloped her, squeezing out air. She could not breathe. She could not cry out. She could not blink. The huge, golden-eyed gaze held hers in an intangible grip. Lluava was under Selene’s control.

  The foreign force began to pervade her own form even as her mind struggled against it. Kneel. The order was understood, though no voice had uttered it. Lluava’s forelimbs lowered. Her mind grew hazy. Reality faded in and out.

  Suddenly, another fiery wave seared through Lluava’s body, causing her eyes to tear with pain. She was back in control. In that moment, she could have asked for the antivenom. She could have implored Selene to stop this madness. Instead, her fiery anger seethed.

  “Luka did not choose to help Apex deceive you because of his feelings for me. You drove him away. He did what he did because you are cold and heartless.”

  The snake struck so quickly that Lluava did not feel the twin punctures in her shoulders until after the serpent had retracted its large head. Was that a flicker of doubt in Selene’s eyes, or was her own sight wavering once more? As intense pain shot through her, Lluava shifted to human form. Crying out, she stumbled away from the emerald anaconda. Whether the bite was intentional or instinctive, Selene’s posture altered.

  Lluava’s entire body began to convulse, and she struggled to remain standing. Meanwhile, Selene’s jaw began to unhinge. First one side dropped lower followed by the other. In a slow, practiced movement, the snake’s mouth opened to a gigantic hollow. Would the giant anaconda swallow her victim, thereby erasing any trace of the battle?

  The poison coursing through Lluava had a secondary effect. She could feel her other self and knew that the goddess’s grasp on her was slipping away. Lluava must deal with the unfolding events on her own.

  Sweat dripped into her eyes, further distorting her vision. I will not die tonight. Lluava willed herself to believe it. I will not die this night. With slippery palms, she gripped Issaura’s Claws tightly.

  Stumbling away from the serpent’s approach, Lluava fought the drowsiness weighing down her aching body. She felt herself slip, and her knees hit the ground before she sensed her full collapse. All was pain.

  A massive shadow rose above her. Lluava wanted to roll over, to lash out with her weapons, yet her body was leaden. Calming her mind, she focused on harnessing the remaining scraps of her energy. She would make one last effort.

  “What is the meaning of this?”

  Lluava heard the coils shift position as a distorted voice rumbled through the vaulted room. At the edges of her vision, everything was growing gray. The sound of whispered voices fluttered about her ears. Chat? Horus? Austro? Gramps? The dead were calling her, telling her to follow.

  Wait, she wanted to shout out, not yet!

  Biting her tongue, Lluava tasted her own blood as it slid down her throat. A stirring arose, an overpowering fury. Leaping to her feet, Lluava charged at the one thing that filled her vision—the emerald anaconda.

  The beast was facing away from her. In a single leap, she thrust Issaura’s Claws deep into the flesh at the base of the creature’s skull. The serpent writhed briefly, sending Lluava crashing to the floor, and then the great, limp body collapsed beside her.

  The gray haze in Lluava’s peripheral vision continued to mass like storm clouds. Crawling on her stomach, Lluava approached Selene’s form as it reverted to a naked body sprawled in a pool of blood. Reaching around the woman’s throat, Lluava grasped the item she desired.

  Strands of black hair entangled in the chain were ripped away as Lluava grasped the teardrop pendant, Suada’s Venom. If anything could save her, it was this god’s weapon. But how?

  Fighting to keep her eyes open, Lluava felt her body tremble as she inspected the pendant carefully. There was no line or latch to suggest that this object was a container of any sort. Rounded on the bottom, the top ended in a needle-sharp point. With a whisper of hope, Lluava drove the pointed tip into the palm of her hand and pierced her flesh.

  The entire
world went black.

  Chapter 28

  Origin of the Beasts

  In an explosion of sensation, Lluava was jarred into awareness. She felt the pressure around her hand before she registered what she saw.

  Apex was trying to pry her fist open. Lluava realized he was attempting to get the pendant, Suada’s Venom. She lurched to one side, accidentally cutting his hand with the Claw. Hesitating, she tried to figure out the huntsman’s motives.

  “For a moment, I thought—” Apex began, then his worried features changed. “Lluava, it’s me. Apex. Do you recognize me?”

  Her mouth refused to function. Unable to speak, Lluava nodded warily. Why was he after the Venom? Why hadn’t he gone for help? Trying to scoot back farther, she slipped in the liquid around her. Selene’s blood had become a large puddle that was being absorbed by the clothing of both women.

  Selene was dead.

  The Incarn of Suada was no more. Her unblemished skin seemed drained of the hue that only life endows. Her nakedness unashamedly dared anyone to deny that she was created for the goddess of lust and seduction.

  Apex looked at the body with a grim expression. “She was speaking to me when you struck. She wanted me to reach out to you so that she could give you the cure. However misguided Selene was, she never wanted a fellow Incarn to die.”

  “She’s poisoned someone, one of my friends,” Lluava spat out. Her voice was barely audible. “I needed the cure.” The hand that held Selene’s necklace stung, but not as much as her shoulder, swollen where the serpent’s fangs had dug in.

  As she struggled to stand, Apex assisted her. “The banquet hall. I need to get there.” As Lluava began to make her way out of the throne room, she realized that she was the only one leaving. “Apex?”

  “Go,” he said roughly. He gestured toward the bodies of Selene and the youth. “This needs to be dealt with.”

  Not wasting time to argue, Lluava staggered to the nearby hall, from which the smell of mulled wine and braised boar wafted down the corridor. After what seemed like an eternity, Lluava finally arrived at the banquet hall’s doors.

  There was a clatter and a shout.

  Shoving the door open, Lluava yelled, “Stop drinking!”

  The first thing she saw was Talos, wiping spilled wine from Rosalyn’s gown. The startled onlookers turned to gape at Lluava whose Endun clothes were covered in blood. Realizing that she probably sounded crazy, she hastily explained, “There is poison in one of your cups. I don’t know which one. Who drank anything? I have the antidote.”

  “No one,” Talos told her, still holding his handkerchief. “Nobody drank anything.”

  Rosalyn spoke up. “We were waiting, but we had just decided to toast the safe return of all of you. That was when your bird flew at me.”

  Yamir jumped up and pointed. “Look at Onyx.” The raven was sprawled on the ground, feathers dripping with red wine. His small body shuddered. “You don’t think—?”

  Lluava hurried to the bird and pressed the sharp tip of the pendant into its leg muscle. She stopped only when she saw beads of blood bubble up.

  “Are you all right, Rosalyn?” she asked her friend, as she carefully watched the raven’s chest rise and fall.

  “Yes. The wine spilled mainly on my dress.”

  “Let’s get you changed. Quickly,” urged Talos, now quite worried. His concern for his wife and their unborn child was obvious. The couple gave their friend a grateful glance and hurried home.

  A second, trembling voice spoke up. Luka asked agitatedly, “Whose blood is on you?”

  Lluava suddenly felt nauseated. “Luka, it couldn’t be helped. If you knew what she tried to do—”

  Selene’s brother did not wait to hear her explanation. He strode over to Lluava, snatched the necklace with the Venom, and raced out of the room. Only she knew where he was headed.

  “What happened?” Aquila asked, his eyes scanning the room, on the alert.

  Still monitoring Onyx, Lluava shared everything with the few who remained. Derrick, Aquila, and Yamir listened intently. When she finished answering their questions, she inquired, “Where is Ammit? I thought he would be here as well.”

  “He chose not to eat with us,” said Yamir. “I think he might not be comfortable with those whom he does not know…or trust.”

  Ammit, scared? Not likely. Lluava guessed that he had gone to deliver to the high priestess the news of their return. Before she could wonder further, a tall, lanky Outlander entered the room. His eyes sought Lluava with an expression that masked his personal thoughts.

  “Finish your meal later, Theri. The Ocean Man has awakened.”

  Lluava’s stomach heaved. Yamir said, “After all this, I wouldn’t be able to eat.” Heading to the door, he continued, “I’m going to check up on Rosalyn.” With a fleeting smile, he added, “And then see what food they have at their house.”

  Handing Onyx to Aquila, she said, “If you want, go with him. I know you’re hungry as well.” With no chance to change clothes, Lluava followed the Outlander through the corridors. He stared suspiciously at the fresh blood on her but said not another word.

  Alcove was propped up in a bed. Though alert, he looked dreadful. Skin hung loosely on his arms and face. His jawbones were more pronounced than ever. Still, there was very little sympathy in Lluava’s tone when she asked, “How does it feel to know that the den of your enemy is now your salvation?”

  “God works in strange ways,” he answered weakly. His thick accent made his words almost impossible to decipher.

  “I never thought you were religious.”

  “On the contrary, religion is my highest motivation.”

  Even now, Lluava felt as if Alcove had the upper hand. Was it the way he spoke? Or the glint in his sunken eyes? “Are you going to tell us what we want to know voluntarily, or through other means?”

  Adjusting his pillow, Alcove countered, “What is it you want to know?” Would he actually work with them without demanding something in return?

  “Everything.”

  “Where do I begin?” he chortled before grimacing with pain. Clearly, Yena had not prescribed Idun for the ambassador.

  Lluava had little compassion. “The giants and your monsters would be a good start.”

  “How do I explain in a way that you would understand?” Alcove mused to himself.

  Insulting as his statement was, she waited patiently for the answers.

  “The Berserkers came first, I suppose. Those large men you call giants. Actually, they are not giants but our engineered soldiers.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you must understand about breeding beasts to enhance a characteristic, like creating large udders on cattle. When you have a cow with a large udder, you breed it. If you have one that does not, you do not let it breed. Then you take the offspring of the first cow, judge them when grown, select the one with the largest udder, and breed her, et cetera, et cetera. Soon, your entire herd will have large udders and thus produce more milk.”

  “I know this already,” Lluava said, for she had grown up in the country. “But we are not talking about cattle.”

  “No. We are not. But we are talking about selective breeding.” Alcove shifted a leg to get into a more comfortable position. “In the empire, we have bred the strongest, tallest women to the strongest, tallest men. Over the centuries, we have created people who are known as the Berserker Legion. They are, in fact, our soldiers. Their unusual height and strength is due to the traits we have selected. They have been trained in warfare since childhood.”

  This astonishing concept caused Lluava to shiver. The Raiders had designed their warriors for that sole purpose. “If the Berserkers are your soldiers, what about the regular Raiders, or whatever you call your army?”

  One corner of Alcove’s lips curled up. “They are nothing. Rubbish. Cutthroats. Vandals. Scum. They are men who made a choice between a life of imprisonment and one of freedom if they enlisted and helped us conq
uer new lands. All are branded with a mark on the inside of the lower lip.” Alcove pulled his own down, though his was not tattooed. “It is a physical sign that they have been, and will always be, convicts. They are the colonizers, our initial settlers, when we claim new territory. Or in this case, reclaim what is rightfully ours.

  “Unfortunately, they are uncouth and poorly trained. Usually, their brute force and tenacious drive is all we need. Yet in some cases, such as this one, our true soldiers must be summoned.”

  “Thus, the Berserkers,” Lluava stated, now comprehending last year’s events.

  “Thus, the Berserkers,” acknowledged Alcove. “We have used selective breeding for many occupations, yet our military program is clearly the most advanced.”

  Choosing her next question with care, she asked, “And your monsters? Those men that scare even the Berserkers? And scare you. What are they?”

  “Soldiers. An elite group of warriors, far stronger and fiercer than the Berserkers themselves. They are known as Úlfhéðinn or, individually, as Úlfhéðnar. Though of the same build as the Berserkers, they are selected for other qualities as well.”

  For a moment the ambassador’s eyes glazed. Then he resumed his explanation. “Though the Berserker Legion is naturally strong and fierce, they smoke a drug—”

  Lluava cut in, “Which makes them immune to pain and increases rage to the point that they will cut down anyone in their path.”

  “Very good,” noted Alcove. “Well, the Úlfhéðinn’s drug is much stronger. Known as Óᵭr, it is a liquid brewed over several weeks. The contents and the process are known only by the Úlfhéðinn. Once drunk, it quickly spreads throughout the body. The drug not only provides the extraordinary strength of the Berserkers, but it also activates muscles in new ways for increased speed and lightning-quick reflexes. Their body type is enhanced as well. However, the drug strips them of their humanity.

  “The most visible and strangest side effect is the temporary alteration of skin color, which I’m sure you noticed. The potion is so potent that many who train to become Úlfhéðinn die the first time they consume it. This is why only the best physical specimens are selected for their regiment.”