“You need to feed,” Ekoli stated, as if he could just nibble on some bread and have done with it.
The Vampyr was keen on the idea, but Holt balked. He was not at all in control of the bloodlust and feared for Ekoli’s life. Although it might be ironic to have the goddess succumb to the very Curse she had unleashed, something inside of Holt refused to consider such a thought.
For all that Ekoli had done to him, he still worshipped her. Holt wished that his feelings were towards a goddess, but he had to admit that his love was now for the woman as well.
“Rein back. Then sate your hunger.”
Holt only hoped that Ekoli had no idea what his current hunger consisted of. Right now, it had nothing to do with her blood. But even submerged deep in lust, Holt could hear the wisdom in her words. He could not transform back before his wing was healed. A wound that deep would be mortal to his human flesh. Only blood could mend the damage done by the Scab.
Slowly, Holt fought the Vampyr’s urges and gradually regained control. He scaled back the transformation until he was mostly human. Only his wings and teeth remained committed to the Vampyr.
Ekoli pushed up her sleeve and offered her wrist to him. As Holt brought the tender flesh to his mouth, he could not help but take in her scent.
Was it the closed quarters, or fear, or something else that flavored her aroma with a musky fragrance? He could feel her pulse racing beneath her alabaster skin. Holt wet his lips before he placed them upon her tender wrist.
For a moment, he hesitated, then as gently as possible, pierced her skin. The tiny cry that escaped Ekoli’s lips brought an unwelcome thrill to his lips. Careful not to take a draught, Holt pulled back his teeth and let the blood well to the surface. If he had any hope of controlling the bloodlust, he could not drink deeply. He could have to content himself with lapping at Ekoli’s wrist.
His forked tongue flicked out and cleaned the blood from her skin. The taste set his whole body on fire, but Holt controlled the urge to sink his teeth into her arm again. With great patience, Holt waited until the blood welled again, then took another lap. He had assumed this slow and carefully measured course would temper his lust, but Holt found it did not.
If anything, the method only enhanced his desire. If there was not the dull roar behind his ears of his bloodlust, this might have been a loving act. Every fiber of his body yearned to lick her skin once again.
Ekoli moaned softly as he took another lap and laid her other hand upon the back of his neck. Holt had to freeze — for fear that his body would indulge in its fantasies.
His arousal was so strong that for a moment Holt lost his grasp on the Vampyr. With his face transformed, Holt turned towards Ekoli. Her eyes must have adjusted to the dark, for she looked directly into his own eyes.
“Are you sated?” Ekoli asked her voice husky and rushed.
Although his belly was full of her blood, Holt knew what she asked. “No.”
The goddess pulled him close to her and wrapped her arms around him, pressing their bodies together. Their lips met, and fire arced between them. Ekoli pulled back a moment.
“Then let us both feed.”
*****
CHAPTER 32
Traven squinted at the midday sun. Spending the night in the dank caverns had made his eyes sensitive. A light snow had fallen during the night, powdering the valley. The Centaurs were working the ground, digging past the snow to the stubby grass beneath.
In another time and place, the scene might have been idyllic, but the Hero felt ill at ease. There was something wrong here. A tension that he could not easily put his finger upon. The Centaurs obeyed Dimitri, but it was obvious that there was no love lost between their temporary leader and his subjects.
The Hero had no desire to spend the next few days in this Herd’s company. Tomorrow, they were to break camp and head west towards the Lower Steppes. The hope was that Vizier would descend from the Peak and join them before the group addressed the Quorum. Glacial still needed to be convinced her Sacrifice would be in vain, but Traven would not feel settled until they returned to Mount Shrine.
The knowledge he had gained was far too great a burden for his shoulders alone. He wished to report to the scholars and leave them to ruminate upon the complexity of the problem. The Hero was content to use his sword rather than his mind.
“Ah, it’s going to be a warm one,” Corpse said as he climbed from the cavern. “The heat chases the chill from my bones.”
Traven moved over a step to allow Corpse a vantage point. The Hero was still not quite used to the dead man’s presence. Even Pale was slightly disturbed by the newest member of their party. The wolf did not like a companion who gave off no smell. Corpse had no spoor to track, nor any sweat to sniff out. Pale gave the dead man a wide berth even in these cramped passageways.
“Do these... these things eat something besides grass?” Corpse asked.
Traven hated to admit it, but the dead man had a knack for cutting to the chase. There was not a moment when Corpse did not announce his feelings or opinions.
Still, decorum had to be preserved. “We will eat what we are offered.”
“My, aren’t we a bit cranky today?” A laugh rattled in Corpse’ throat. “Do you not find our hosts appealing?”
The Hero did not bother answering the dead man. Corpse seemed to thrive as much on goading everyone as he did on a fire’s heat. Worse, The Hanged Man was quite good at striking the mark. Corpse was right. Traven found the Centaurs uncomfortable to be around. They were not quite horse, nor human. The combination made him queasy.
The only one enthralled with their host was Glacial. The Princess glowed in the ancient race’s attention. The Giant was showered with so much courtesy that Glacial was nearly speechless. Her royal veneer had slipped away to wide-eyed wonder. Traven could not share in her admiration.
“The wind blows the wrong way,” Corpse said.
Traven checked the wind, but found it blowing from the north, as it should. “It hails from the north, Corpse.”
A smile crossed the dead man’s lips. “There is more than one type of wind, Hero.”
***
Ornery had tried to be patient all day long. He had tried, truly. But he was sick of waiting. The adults had spent the day rehashing the events, turning them over and over again until even Ornery, who had lived through them, was confused.
He knew the world was in grave danger. He knew that great evil forces were at play, but he had concerns nearer to his heart. Could he not spend a little time with his father before they had to ride into danger again?
“Ornery?” a voice called behind him. Turning, he found it was Glacial. The Princess was never far from his side.
“Yes?” He tried to answer with courtesy, but not too much.
The Princess diverted her eyes. “I am sorry to have disturbed you. I will come at a time that is more convenient.”
“No, Glacial. I just wish... I was just hoping to have some time with my father.” Immediately, Ornery wished he had not spoken his true feelings. Bracing himself for her scorn, Ornery turned away.
Instead, Glacial’s eyes teared over. “My father and I did not spend enough time together either, and now he is gone.”
“I am sorry. I had forgotten your loss.” How awkward this was. Ornery felt badly that he had touched such a wound yet did not trust that the girl’s tears were true. The beauty could still be baiting him. It would not be the first time.
“There is nothing to be sorry for.” The Princess took a step closer. “I do not know how to ask this.”
Tensing again, Ornery tried to keep suspicion out of his voice. “Simply ask.”
“It is not that I haven’t appreciated the Hero’s bravery and companionship, but I find it uncomfortable to ride upon his horse or wolf.” Glacial looked far more tentative than Ornery had ever seen her. “It would be the greatest honor if I could sit astride one of your people.”
Was that all? And here Ornery had been prepared
for some hideous request that would embarrass him to the bone.
“You might ask Miss Emmert or my father, but I do not see why they would not honor your wishes. Crystalia rode on...” Ornery stumbled over Cinnamon’s name. It was still difficult to talk about his deceased cousin. “The Centaurs carried the Snowy Maiden with no hesitation.”
Glacial nodded thankfully. “I will do as you say. Thank you.”
Ornery was not quite sure what she was so thankful for, but he nodded in response. At least the Princess was walking off to find his parents and not bothering him any longer. Ornery kicked at some snow and scrambled down the rocks a bit.
Some of the other colts and fillies were racing through the snowcapped ridges. Ornery could make out their shiny coats, and their calls echoed off the peaks.
For years, Ornery had been devastated by his strange equine features, but now the boy fretted that he only had two legs. Why was he not graced with another pair? How he would love to join in the chase.
“Does your stomach burn?” a question was asked from behind.
Ornery turned to find his father walking up beside him. “Sometimes. Especially at night.”
His father smiled. “Your other legs will sprout. Do not worry, son.”
Ornery cared not any longer about his legs. His father’s hand was upon his shoulder! Ornery could barely think of anything to say, but he was desperate to keep the conversation going.
“The Ice Princess was looking for you.”
“Aye. She found me. Konrad will more than likely bear her.” Dimitri smiled and ruffled his son’s hair. “That one reminds me of your mother. Although she does not quite have as quick a tongue as Seleen.”
Ornery could not imagine Glacial and Miss Emmert being more different, but he was not about to contradict his father. “Did you play like those foals when you were young?”
“Yes. Far too often, if you listen to my father.” A mischievous look passed over Dimitri’s face. “Would you like to explore the hillside?”
“Oh, yes!” Ornery could hardly believe it.
Miss Emmert came from the caves, a frown upon her face. “I think not. These are dangerous times.”
His father crossed and pulled Miss Emmert up into an embrace and kissed her fully on the lips. Ornery shuffled, uncomfortable with his parents’ constant show of affection. Could they not wait until the privacy of their own cave?
Dimitri smiled brightly in the late afternoon sun. “Aye, they are. But the boy must learn how to keep his feet under him. These races are more than games, Seleen, but you know that already.”
“He will have time enough to learn balance and coordination. For now, we must keep him safe.”
His father’s smiled waned a bit. “And when will that be, Sele? We expect him to take up a man’s burden but do not let his body develop normally.”
Miss Emmert seemed to be wavering, so Ornery leapt into the conversation.
“I want to be strong and sure when I am presented to the Quorum! We will only be gone a bit.”
“Aye,” his father agreed. “You will not have to hold dinner even. Just a quick jaunt up the hill and back.”
“Please,” Ornery pleaded.
With both of them badgering her, Miss Emmert finally shooed them away. “But make it quick. None of your notorious explorations. Is that settled, Dimitri?”
Ornery smiled as his father demurred to Miss Emmert. Obviously, his father had a roguish streak. Once his mother had disappeared behind the rocks, Dimitri turned to Ornery.
“Beat you to the jutting rock!”
Before Ornery could even agree to the challenge, his father was leaping up the hill. Scrambling up the slick snow, Ornery laughed so hard that tears came to his eyes.
This was the best time of his life.
***
Crystalia peeled some gnarly potatoes. They had scrounged the awful things from the trapper’s cache. The vegetables had been pitiful back there, but now everyone welcomed a break from the stringy Plain grass. Chutney never sounded so good to the Snowy Maiden.
Last Hitch was like a paradise to the life she inhabited now. Even cooking dinner was disturbing. Yet she could no more leave this party than slash her wrists. In her palms the Snowy Maiden could feel their binding — each life was now entwined.
Looking up at an approaching figure, Crystalia was disappointed. It was only one of the Centaurs. Secretly, the girl had hoped that it was Traven, not that the Hero ever sought her out.
Like right now, he was off with Glacial, talking about important things with important people, while Crystalia sat here and peeled half-rotten potatoes.
The rest of their group was outside, leaving only herself and Corpse to tend dinner. The dead man sat across the fire, staring at her with those frosty eyes of his. They were all milky but clear at the same time. Crystalia looked away and stirred the pot. It did not really need tending, but it distracted her from the dead man’s gaze. Finally, she could take no more.
“What are you looking at?”
Corpse shrugged and took another sip of his hot water.
Crystalia ignored the dribble down his neck. “I would appreciate it if you would not stare at me so.”
“Don’t you find any of this a bit strange?” the dead man asked.
What did Crystalia not find odd? Despite her thoughts, Crystalia kept silent. The Snowy Maiden did not wish to initiate a conversation; she only wanted Corpse to leave her alone.
“You are very pretty, you know.”
Crystalia stiffened. The last thing the girl needed was for the dead man to take a fancy to her. Quickly, Crystalia thought of the rudest thing to say — something that Viola would have retorted.
“You have been dead too long.”
Corpse snorted. “Aye, that is true. But do not worry. I hold no affection for you as I should.”
For a moment, Crystalia was a bit injured by the man’s blunt declaration. The Snowy Maiden did not want the corpse chasing after her, but the dead man did not need to be quite so curt about it. Besides, what did Corpse mean?
“As you should? What is that to mean?”
The dead man shrugged. “In all the legends, I am hopelessly in love with you. Smitten. Bewitched. Enamored. I lust for you and resent The Man Who Did Not Know for having you.”
“Oh,” Crystalia said, suddenly wishing she had not mentioned a thing.
“I was just thinking. If that part of the tale is so blatantly untrue, then what is to say that any of it is correct? Could this whole thing be a farce? Miss Emmert could have just gathered together a bunch of misfits and called them whatever she wished.”
Crystalia’s brow crinkled. “Except for the fact that you really are dead. That would be hard to fake.”
“Well, yes, except that part.”
“And the Gullet and the —”
Corpse waved her response away. “The events are in order. It is just the players who are sorely mistaken. You love Traven. The Hero is soft for Glacial. The Ice Princess can’t take her eyes off The Way. Ornery blushes each time you walk in the room, and I couldn’t care less if you all fell off the edge of the earth. Interesting, is it not?”
The dead man rose and warmed his hands by the fire.
The Snowy Maiden could not dispute Corpse’s words. Everything was in a tangle. You could not look at one relationship without involving the whole bunch.
Yet, no matter how many doubts Corpse threw her way, Crystalia could never question the rightness of their path.
Although she wished will all her heart that she could.
At one time, the Snowy Maiden had wished to leave their presence and strike for home, but now Crystalia knew that was not possible. The more time she spent around Traven, the stronger her soul sexton’s demands became. Despite the thick rock that separated them, Crystalia could tell that the Hero now walked a bit southwest. The farther he strayed, the greater her urge to join him. Even if she wanted to leave the group, Crystalia did not think the sexton would allow h
er to.
Shaking her head, Crystalia knew she should not have thought about the Hero. The only way to resist the sexton’s call was to ignore its compelling allure. Dwelling on Traven only heightened the near pain of separation.
Crystalia sighed when she caught Corpse staring at her again. Could she get no peace? Rising, Crystalia headed down the tunnel.
“Stir the pot a bit,” she directed the dead man before she left.
Crystalia realized that suggestion might not have been the best idea. Corpse might lose a finger or something into the stew, and they would never know. The Snowy Maiden did not stop, however. Crystalia needed a bit of fresh air, and it would be pleasant to soothe her palm’s demands. She itched at the black markings. They burned worse the nearer Crystalia was to the entrance.
This was odd. Usually the symbol quieted once she was closer to the Hero. Turning the corner, Crystalia heard a strangled cry, then it was abruptly cut short.
Was it the wind?
Her feet began running before her mind registered the alarm.
Bolting out of the tunnel, Crystalia was blinded by the glaring sunset. After her eyes adjusted, the Snowy Maiden let out a scream.
***
Traven turned to find Crystalia at the mouth of the caves. What was the girl doing? Could she not see they were under attack?
Pale sent a warning just in time for the Hero to ward off another assailant. This one was a huge creature. With the body of a lion and wings of an eagle, the Griffin roared its challenge. Using his sword, Traven fended the beast off, but another swooped in.
A claw sliced the Hero’s sleeve, drawing red blood. Pale leapt in front of Traven and bit the Griffin’s tail, yanking it from the sky. Unbalanced, the beast tumbled down, breaking a wing. Traven jumped and buried his sword into the creature’s chest. Fierce jaws snapped at the Hero, but Traven danced away.
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