Scorn of the Sky Goddess

by Tara West

  She stared into them, puzzled by a black pattern of circular thorns that marred the white clouds. “Simeon.” She waved him over. “What do you think that’s supposed to be?”

  He knelt beside her, squinting into the mist. “It looks like ivy. Dead ivy.”

  Dafuar blew out a long puff of smoke. “It’s a belt of thorns.”

  They looked at Dafuar as if he’d grown a second head.

  “The barbs have pierced Madhea’s heart,” Dafuar continued, “leaking poison into her veins.”

  “How?” she asked.

  “When a witch forces her child to use dark magic, the curse will also poison the mother.”

  She had many questions, but if she asked too many, the old prophet would become confused. “Will these thorns kill Madhea?”

  “Possibly, but it will take time.” He took another long draw of his pipe, the pungent odor making the room smell like rotten cabbage. “It will weaken her magic, which may give you an advantage in the coming battle.”

  Her heart thudded. “You have seen me battling Madhea?”

  He grimaced. “I have.”

  Simeon silently squeezed her hand, offering her a steady source of comfort when she was so frightened, she wanted to jump out of her skin.

  “Have you seen the outcome?” she begged. Namely, would Markus live? Would she? Elements forbid Madhea had cursed his heart, for she didn’t know if she could strike down her own brother.

  Dafuar’s eyes glazed over. “What outcome?”

  Dianna clenched her teeth. “The outcome of the battle.”

  He tilted his head. “What battle?”

  “Oh, Dafuar!” she groaned.

  “His moment of lucidity has passed,” Simeon whispered.

  She bit her lip, lest she take out her frustration on the senile prophet. “I’m afraid so,” she grumbled.

  The prophet straightened, and he looked around the hut like a hungry fox who’d caught the scent of a rabbit. “If you have any hope of defeating Madhea, you will need to retrieve my mother’s stone.”

  She straightened. “Do you know where to find it?”

  “Yes.” He leaned forward, tapping her forehead with the tip of his pipe. “And so do you.”

  DIANNA FOUND URA ON the path when they returned. She had something to say to Dianna, of that she was certain. She just didn’t think she’d want to hear it, for she feared Ura would ask to come with her to fight Madhea, and she refused to risk the life of her brother’s unborn child.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Simeon whispered in her ear before kissing her on the cheek and setting off toward Mari’s hut.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Ryne by the barn, doing a poor job of feigning interest in his dog while looking sideways at Simeon, his dark scowl following the sand dweller. Ryne had to have seen that she had made her choice. Hopefully, he’d leave her be and wouldn’t pick a fight with Simeon.

  Ura cleared her throat. “Dianna?”

  “Yes?” Dianna turned a smile on the pretty ice girl.

  She twisted her fingers, biting down on her lip. “I want to go with—”

  She held out a silencing hand. “You are not going with us to battle Madhea.”

  Ura’s bottom lip quivered. “But she has my husband.”

  “Aye,” she agreed. “The father of the baby you carry in your womb. The battlefield is no place for an unborn child, especially not when you risk Madhea capturing you and doing harm to the baby.”

  “I won’t let her capture me. I’m good with the bow. You’ve seen me.”

  “No, Ura.” She vehemently shook her head, her heart sinking at the look of pain in Ura’s eyes.

  Ura swiped tears, her face twisted with emotion. “I can’t do nothing while others fight for my husband.”

  “Listen to me, Ura. You’re not doing nothing. You’re taking care of my brother and Mari. She’s not as strong as you. They will need to be fed and protected.” She reached for Ura’s hands, pleased when the ice girl didn’t pull away. “I can’t fight Madhea and rescue Markus if I’m not sure of Des’s safety. I need you here.”

  Tears streamed down Ura’s face as she silently nodded.

  Dianna wiped Ura’s tears away. “I know you love my brother, and I thank you for it. You’re a wonderful wife, and I’m proud to call you my sister.”

  With that, they alternated between crying and hugging, infusing each other with strength for the days to come.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After an emotional goodbye with Des, Dianna set out with Simeon, Alec, Ryne, and Tar toward Aya-Shay. Though they didn’t have a giant to carry them, they reached the dwarf city in a few days.

  Dianna had reluctantly agreed to let Alec accompany her, thinking she’d need him to help her negotiate with the dwarves. After all, she was about to ask them to surrender their food source.

  The hold had now swelled into the size of a veritable city, as most of the villagers from Kicelin and Adolan had gathered there, pitching tents outside the crowded shelter. Dianna noted how much warmer and greener it was here than Aloa-Shay, more proof that her assumption was correct.

  Ryne had planted the seed in her mind when they’d first visited Aya-Shay when he’d suggested the true reason Furbald wouldn’t allow humans into the dwarf fortress was because he was hiding Kyan’s stone. She understood the king’s fear after Eris and Madhea’s armies had pillaged the Shadow Kingdom, but that didn’t justify his treatment of Zier’s family. No, the king had to be hiding something, and that something had to be the stone.

  “How are you going to get the goddess stone from Furbald, if it’s is even here?” Ryne grumbled, bringing up the rear of their party.

  Ironic how Ryne had first suggested King Furbald was hiding the stone, yet now he was casting doubts on that theory. Ever the thorn in Dianna’s side, she didn’t dare admit that she’d become accustomed to his grumbling, most likely in the same way her father had learned to tolerate the bunions on his toes.

  “It’s here.” She remembered the way Simeon’s little sister, Kyani, named after the benevolent goddess Kyan, was able to grow plants at will, making them spring to life in a matter of moments. No wonder the dwarves were able to keep over a dozen giants well fed. Their goddess stone must have been growing food for them.

  And now dwarves had come to the hold handing out fresh vegetables, no doubt, without Furbald’s blessing. This abundance of food further proved Dianna’s suspicion.

  She thanked the dwarves for their generosity, then greeted old friends, wishing them well, saddened, but not surprised, when many gave her a wide berth. Whispers of “Madhea’s daughter” had already reached them. No doubt the dwarves had told them, but if not, then the dragons circling overhead would’ve given her away.

  Alec narrowed his eyes at Rolf Leifson, the town barkeep, after he backed away from her when she tried to say hello.

  “You’d show her more respect if you realized she is the only thing between you and Madhea’s wrath.” Alec wagged a finger in the barkeep’s face. Then he spun a slow circle, eying their former neighbors with a look of contempt. “One day you will all owe her an apology.”

  Matron Thisben, the old baker, stepped forward, handing Dianna a basket of bread. “For your journey.” She bowed low. “May the Elements keep you safe.”

  Dianna cupped Matron Thisben’s shoulder. “Please do not bow to me. I remember how your back bothers you.” She bent beside the old woman, rubbed her lower back, and used her magic to douse the fire of her inflamed bones.

  Matron Thisben stomped the dirt and kicked her legs. “Praise the Elements! My back no longer pains me!” She clasped her hands together. “Thank you, Dianna. Thank you!”

  Dianna held up her basket with a grin. “You’ve thanked me enough.” Then she turned to the other villagers, who’d gathered to gawk and whisper. “If any of you have children with fevers, please do not hesitate to ask for help.”

  “It’s true, then?” Rolf stepped forward, cro
ssing his arms over his distended belly with a look of defiance. “That you’re a witch?”

  “Aye.” She held her ground. She’d battled mages, an earth speaker, and two goddesses. She wasn’t about to be intimidated by the man who kept half of the village men addicted to his stale brew and indebted to him due to his outrageous prices. “I’m a witch and not ashamed of it.”

  Rolf frowned, stroking his grimy, graying beard. “Law states we must burn you at the stake.”

  She laughed. “Whose law? Madhea’s? You would continue to uphold her laws and honor a goddess whose freeze has driven you out of your homes?” She marched up to Rolf, jabbing his distended gut with an accusatory finger. “Madhea’s reign is almost over. I will bring her down, and when I do, I vow that anyone who burns a witch will be tried for murder.”

  Rolf backed up, scowling. “What makes you think you can take on a goddess?”

  “She has already brought down Eris.” Simeon stepped between them, his voice cutting through the crowd like the sound of a sledgehammer striking stone. “She will defeat Madhea as well. Now, unless you want to invoke the ire of Dianna’s dragons, you all need to stand down.”

  The crowd of onlookers collectively stepped back, gaping at Simeon as if they were in a trance. Indeed, they had to have been, for Dianna was certainly mesmerized by him, too.

  MADHEA LET OUT A HORRIFIED wail when she saw her reflection in the looking glass. Her face! Her beautiful face had been marred by the vine of thorns. The ugly thorns had snaked their way up her neck overnight, swirling across her left cheekbone, like her pigment had been dyed with black ink.

  Curse the Elements! Why had this happened to her? ’Twas Kia who’d used the dark magic to curse Markus’s heart, not her. She frantically added powder to her face to no avail. The vines absorbed it like a sponge. Stifling a sob, she pulled her thick curtain of hair down over the scars, completely obscuring one eye. She looked a fool, but she couldn’t allow Markus to see the thorns, which also meant she dared not get too close to him.

  How would she erase the vine of thorns when her healing magic had failed with the other scars? She realized she’d have no choice but to use Ariette, for she had strong healing magic. She was the one her sisters turned to when they caught a fever or broke a wing. If anyone could cure Madhea’s ugly face, ’twould be Ariette.

  Madhea flung her powders to the floor, flying swiftly to the heptacircle. When she looked down upon her daughters, she was shocked to see Ariette still gaunt and listless, despite the food and drink she’d thrown down to them.

  “Losna!” She called to the daughter hovering over Ariette. “Why is she still unwell?”

  Losna looked up at her with hatred in her emerald eyes. “She refuses to eat food bought with the sacrifice of Kia’s soul.”

  This was no good. If Ariette died, Madhea would have no one to restore her beauty. ’Twas then she knew what she had to do.

  “ARE YOU GOING TO PUT your hands on every kid with a runny nose?”

  Dianna looked up at the scowling Ryne, who clutched a loaf of Matron Thisben’s bread. She had already given most of the bread to her friends, but she’d been saving that last loaf for strength after she finished healing the children.

  “Runny noses turn to fever, and fever leads to death,” she said through clenched teeth.

  He took a bite of the bread, swallowing it without savoring it. “You should be more concerned with getting that stone, for the ice witch leads to death, too.”

  “Relax.” She turned back to the black-haired toddler, tickling his chin as he smiled at her. “Furbald will come to me.”

  “How can you be sure?” he asked.

  She bit back a curse. This blue bunion of hers was becoming more uncomfortable than she could bear.

  Simeon walked into the tent, frowning at a gaggle of giggling girls who lapped at his heels like a pack of loyal mutts. “Please return to your families.” He waved them away. “I already told you I’m taken.” When he closed the tent flap on them, collective sighs ensued.

  She wanted to be aggravated, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he hadn’t meant for them to follow him. Besides, she couldn’t fault the girls for falling for him, when she’d fallen hard, too. He had already told her he only had eyes for her, which was what mattered most. Those girls would just have to drool from a distance.

  “I imagine it’s going to be hard to be faithful to Dianna with so many girls throwing themselves at you.” Ryne sneered.

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Ryne, because Dianna isn’t like ‘so many girls.’ It’s like comparing the sun to a cluster of buzzing light mites.”

  Dianna thought she felt her heart do a somersault. If she’d been aggravated by the girls before, she certainly wasn’t now. Her sand dweller certainly knew how to charm, and she ate it up like a starving girl with a rack of roasted mutton.

  “I told you to save the last loaf for Dianna.” Simeon snatched the bread out of Ryne’s hands.

  “Hey!” Ryne snapped. “There’s no shortage of food around here. I’m sure she can find more.”

  “No,” Simeon growled. “You can find more.” He tossed the bread to Dianna with a wink.

  When Ryne raised his fists, Tar jumped between them, barking at the ice dweller. Even the dog knew his master was a broot.

  Simeon turned his back on Ryne with a laugh. Ryne’s face turned a bright fuchsia before he stormed out of the tent.

  “Thanks, Simeon.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. She couldn’t help herself. She was falling more in love with Simeon by the moment. He made her so happy. She was determined to cherish every day they had together, no matter how short that time may be.

  She tore off a piece of bread and handed it to the toddler when he held out chubby hands with a squeal. Then she kissed the mite on the forehead and left him with his mother, who graciously gave her some dried venison to add to her modest meal.

  She held Simeon’s hand, eating her food while they strolled around the camp, receiving warm smiles from everyone. She finished off her meal with a cup of palma juice given to her by another appreciative mother.

  The ground beneath them rattled. Though she had grown accustomed to the booms, for the giants traveled from Aya-Shay to the hold quite often, bringing food and supplies with them, she had an unpleasant feeling in her gut this giant approaching would bring with him bad omens.

  Sure enough, Borg broke through the trees, carrying a scowling King Furbald on his shoulder.

  “Borg!” She waved up at him, purposely avoiding King Furbald. “I’m glad to see you well. I hope the babe is in good health, too.”

  “She good.” Borg was about to say more, but when the king loudly cleared his throat, the giant focused on his grimy toes.

  King Furbald pointed his scepter at Dianna, his eyes nearly crossing beneath his furrowed brow. “Your dragons take great risk in flying over my city.”

  “Why?” She feigned innocence. “They mean you no harm.”

  Truthfully, she’d sent the dragons over the city to spy for any signs of Kyan’s stone. Tan’yi’na had already messaged back that he sensed his goddess was near. It had taken much convincing for the golden dragon to agree not to swoop down and dig up the dwarves’ garden, for she didn’t wish to provoke a war.

  The king thrust a fist in the air. “They have no business poking their snouts in our sacred space!”

  “Tan’yi’na has told me something interesting.” She did her best to keep her tone neutral. “That there’s a vast garden in the center of town in which grow vegetables as large as a giant’s hand.”

  The king looked away. “The dragon lies.”

  Simeon squeezed Dianna’s hand, whispering in her ear. “No, the king lies.”

  She leaned into Simeon, relying on his strength for courage. “He also senses the spirit of the Goddess Kyan deep within the garden.”

  The king’s face went from moonlight pale to bright crimson. “More lies!”

  “W
hy would he lie about something like that?” Simeon asked, humor in his tone and a slight smile tugging at his lips. “And why would you be so quick to call a dragon whom you admire a liar?”

  If ’twere at all possible, the king’s face turned even redder. “I never said I admired him.”

  Simeon shook his head, snickering. “You showed him great reverence at our first meeting.”

  Dianna hid a smile behind her hand, though she knew it was wrong. King Furbald’s stubbornness would lead them to war.

  “I-I was wrong,” the king stammered. “He is clearly a deceitful monster. Tell him to stay away from my city, or my soldiers will fill his belly full of cannon fire.”

  “No hurt dwagons,” Borg mumbled.

  “Silence!”

  Dianna flinched when the king thwacked Borg’s ear with his scepter. Borg covered the ear with his hand, a tear slipping down his wide nose.

  The stones gasped, then grumbled.

  That man is not fit to be a father, much less a king, Sindri said.

  Dianna silently agreed. Clearly the only deceitful monster here was the king. “Have a care with Borg, King Furbald,” Dianna admonished. “He is a gentle giant and deserves kindness.”

  He shook the staff at her. “Do not tell me how to raise my son!”

  “You’d have better results convincing Lydra to spit fire,” Simeon whispered.

  She heaved a frustrated groan. “I must have the stone, King Furbald, if I’m to defeat Madhea and save the world.”

  “There is no stone.” The king shook his staff at the gathering crowd. “If you continue to press me on this, you and all of these pesky humans will be banished from the hold. I don’t want them here, anyway.”

  That elicited gasps and cries from the refugees. Curse the king’s selfishness. She might have no choice but to take the stone by force, which could lead to a bloody war. She didn’t want that for the dwarves. Other than the king, they all had been kind to her and her family and friends.