“And here,” Maeva said, still examining the map and tapping it with her finger. “Nothing is known beyond this point here?”
She was indicating the Gates of the Underworld, the true gates at the far end of the red and black courtyard.
“That’s correct,” Feyden said. “That’s where Raine killed the Ancient Dragon, Ragnar, and where Talan destroyed the Scales of Light and Dark so she could shut the gates.”
“Hmm,” Maeva said. “So it could be hundreds of leagues from that point to the actual Underworld. Or even farther.”
“Yes,” Feyden said grimly. “We have no idea what is beyond the gates. Our rescue mission could stop right there.”
If it even got that far, Maeva thought to herself. Somehow they had to get more information on what was beyond those gates.
“I’m going to go see how Kiren is doing. Maybe she can find something.”
Kiren was in the adjacent wing of the library, her small figure dwarfed by the towers of books she had stacked all around her. As she had with her brother, Maeva stopped for a moment to take in the sight of her lover. The raven hair was lustrous in the soft light, her blue eyes glowing like sapphires as Kiren pored over the ancient tomes. She chewed her lower lip, an unconscious gesture that caused desire to flare up in the Directorate.
“And how goes your translation?”
Kiren looked up, breaking into a smile that warmed the icy elven leader as nothing else could.
“I have found something,” she said excitedly, then frowned. “Well, a little something. It’s not much, but more than we have had before.”
Maeva took a position behind Kiren so she could look over her shoulder. Kiren pointed to the primary scroll in front of her. It was old, written in a language that pre-dated even the ancient tongue. Most of it had been translated, but the final line had remained obscure.
“The Dragon’s Lover,” Kiren said, tracing the graceful markings, “felled by the closest of allies, carries into death without dying, that which saves all worlds.”
Kiren’s finger moved down to the final markings on the paper. “Some of these words are easier than others. The first one was the easiest. A simple connecting word, a conjunction. I think it means ‘and.’” Her finger moved across the markings. “This phrase in the middle seemed connected to the verb ‘to be’ in the ancient tongue, although it appeared twice with minor variation, and I think it due to a change in tense. I’m fairly certain it reads ‘it is to be.’”
“It is to be?” Maeva asked. “What does that mean?”
“Without context, it means nothing,” Kiren said. “But that gave me a clue to the second word, which seemed similar to the first line, ‘the Dragon’s Lover’ in that it seems to refer to the same thing, in a general sense, and is also possessive. I think the translation is ‘whose,’ referring to the Dragon’s Lover.”
“And whose ‘blank’ it is to be?”
“Yes,” Kiren said enthusiastically, “which narrowed down what the third word could be. And I found this,” she said, dragging a scroll from a disorderly pile, “which gave me a clue. This is an allegory involving judgment, and has a word in it that we translate as ‘luck’ or ‘chance.’ But that meaning has changed much over time. If you trace its derivation and follow the etymology backwards, it originally meant something closer to ‘fate’ or ‘destiny.’
“I see,” Maeva said, impressed with her young lover’s intelligence.
“So thus far,” Kiren summarized, “the prophecy reads: ‘The Dragon’s Lover, felled by the closest of allies, carries into death without dying, that which saves all worlds, and whose destiny it is to be….”
Hearing Kiren recite the prophecy in its known entirety made the import of her words sink it. This final line declared Raine’s fate.
“Do you have any idea what the remainder of the line says?”
“Not yet,” Kiren said, frowning. “It appears to be some type of title, but I’ve found nothing that has given me any insight. I will keep working.”
Maeva leaned down and kissed Kiren’s raven hair. “You have made more progress than all the elven scholars combined. You will figure it out.”
Maeva started to leave, then remembered why she had come into the room in the first place.
“Oh, Feyden and the others are still hard at work creating maps of their journey to the Underworld. But they never went past Hel’s Gate. If you find anything in your studies that would shed light on what lies beyond, they would appreciate your help.”
Kiren nodded, mentally adding it to her list of things to do, then returned to the symbols that so perplexed her.
Chapter 10
The Tree of Death loomed ominously over the far side of the garden, still bleeding its golden yellow sap. Raine stood beneath it, drawn to its gloomy, misshapen outline for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom. It seemed to pulse and glow with an inner light, but the light did not warm or illuminate, merely seemed to twist about inside as if trying to escape the dark confines of its bark prison.
Thoughts crept into Raine’s mind, thoughts she had steadfastly pushed away the entire time she had been in the Underworld. She would not taint those thoughts or memories with any association with this place. But still, they seemed stronger, insistent, when standing before this tree. And although she fought to suppress them, perhaps that is what drew her to the spot day-after-day.
“You are thinking of her.”
Raine jumped, startled by the proximity of the Goddess, who was suddenly right next to her. She shivered from cold, and from the very dangerous tone in Hel’s voice. She decided to say nothing.
But Raine did not have to say anything. The Goddess had seen the deep violet of her eyes as she contemplated the Tree of Death, and knew what had generated the color.
“Strange,” the Goddess said, “that you have not once asked about her the entire time you have been here. Or truly, about any of your friends at all.”
Raine clenched her jaw, but still said nothing. She would not give Hel the satisfaction of making her beg for information. And there was no way the conversation would play out in any beneficial way for her, which is why she hadn’t asked. She knew that Weynild was alive, and Skye as well. Beyond that, she knew nothing.
Her silence angered Hel even further.
“You will prepare for court,” Hel said coldly, turning about with a whirl of her cloak.
They entered the throne room, much as before, but this time when Hel sat, she did not give Raine permission to sit. Faen’s red eyes glittered with glee, for he could tell his Mistress was very angry at the mortal, and that meant it would be a good day in court. Feray merely stood circumspectly in the shadows.
Raine stood stiffly at Hel’s side, gazing out at the assembly with unseeing eyes. She felt numb, cold, particularly lifeless at the moment. She cared nothing for the proceedings, although she did note that Hel was merciless today. She might have felt compassion for the judged were they not so wholly beyond redemption.
Even so, Raine grew uneasy when one particular man was brought forth in chains. He appeared somewhat human, but Raine did not think that he was, rather perhaps a demi-god or some other magical creature. He was afraid, shaking, and although his crime was horrendous, something to do with some sort of sexual crime, Raine almost felt pity for him. The jeers and catcalls of the crowd were loud, louder than they had been for any of the damned, and the crowd seemed excited by the nature of his crime.
And then Raine understood why. The Membrane, that horrible amalgam of limbs and sexual parts, floated in from the back of the enormous room. The crowd cheered, but also stayed clear of the horrific creature as it glided in to do its Mistress’ bidding. Hel watched impassively as the man tried to flee, straining against his chains, then fell to the ground, whimpering.
Raine took an inadvertent step back, feeling the hard edge of the bench against the
back of her knees. Her movement caught Hel’s eye, who glanced at her, then returned her attention to the punishment unfolding. Feray looked on with the same impassivity of her Mistress, while Faen nearly bounced around in delight.
The Membrane settled over the man and Raine had to turn away. She could not shut out the man’s screams, or the disgusting sucking noises the creature made as it did whatever it was doing. Hel viewed the proceedings with little interest, but turned to her captive with idle curiosity. Many Arlanians were unwillingly excited even by acts that disgusted them, as long as the acts were sexual in nature. Raine, however, showed no such response as her eyes were so pale a blue they were almost gray. For some reason, this pleased Hel.
Raine breathed out, and the arm of Hel’s throne was encased in ice, a phenomenon Hel examined with interest. Raine tried to look anywhere but at the scene in front of her, but there was no safe place for her eyes to rest. The crowd swam before her eyes, their leering, jeering features distorted. The screams and yells and cheers sounded as if she were underwater. Faen’s awful expression stretched out to an exaggerated length, mocking her. She sought desperately to block out everything around her, but the rising pain in her body was making it hard to focus.
Hel’s attention was now entirely on Raine. The mortal was shivering uncontrollably as she brought a shaking hand to her chest, rubbing it as if in pain. Her breathing was shallow and those beautiful lips were turning blue. She swayed as if she were about to fall, clearly on the verge of collapse. Her knees buckled, and she would have fallen to the stone floor had not Hel reached out and hooked a finger in the sash about her waist. With merely a tug, the Goddess shifted Raine’s weight so that when she fell, she did not plummet to the ground but rather collapsed on top of her, and Hel caught her easily in her arms.
Raine stared up at the Goddess who held her. The emerald eyes were filled with an amused sarcasm at her captive’s undignified position. Indeed, Hel held her much as one would hold a child, although the embrace was far more controlling than tender. The Goddess did not speak, for she did not need to. And for Raine, the indignity of the position was nothing; she just wanted to be away from the scene in front of her. She wanted to block out the horrible sounds, to hide from the terrible acts, to erase the memory of the entire event. And so great was her despair, she turned and buried her face in the breasts of the Goddess in an attempt to escape what was in front of her.
“Mmm,” Hel said, inordinately pleased with the act, involuntary or not. A flush of color returned to the Arlanian’s cheeks as she was warmed by the skin she pressed against. Her eyes were tightly closed, her body still tense as it strained to get as far away as possible from the evil and carnality below her.
The sight of the Arlanian collapsing, and the far more improbable sight of the Goddess holding her, now garnered as much attention as the rapacious assault of the Membrane. The cheers and jeers diminished, which made the man’s screams all the louder, causing Raine to flinch as if struck.
Hel merely sighed, and with a sweep of her arm, covered Raine completely with her cloak. And this was no ordinary cloak, for it instantly isolated Raine from all else, blocking out all sight, sound, and sensation, so that she was left in silence and warmth, pressed up against the Goddess in darkness and quiet. Hel could feel the tension drain from the Arlanian’s body as she clutched at the cloth of her gown.
Faen observed the action in disbelief and fury, the latter he tempered abruptly when his Mistress cast her glance his way. Feray, on the other hand, had observed the entire exchange, and was not certain if her Mistress’ actions were due to pragmatism, pity, or possessiveness. In the end, she concluded it was probably a combination of all three, with the first and last holding sway, and the middle having the least influence of all.
Hel did not interrupt the proceedings of her court, rather continued them with the Arlanian asleep on her lap beneath her cloak. This at first attracted much interest and whispered conversation. But the interest gradually diminished, and the action that at first was extraordinary now felt merely fitting. The Goddess stroked the head of her unconscious captive as one would stroke a favored pet. And the submissive, even defeated position of the Arlanian brought pleasure to all as they contemplated what the Goddess would do with her helpless companion once the day was through.
Chapter 11
The Queen of the Ha’kan sat with her High Priestess on the terrace overlooking her castle courtyard. They sipped their tea, talking softly. A somber mood had fallen upon the Ha’kan as a whole, much like the years they had battled the Tavinter. Although day-to-day life was largely the same, the fate of Raine and Talan, their staunchest allies and dearest friends, weighed heavily on them.
Still, there were bright spots in the dark days, and one of these causes for joy was approaching them. Lifa, the future High Priestess, flowed towards them, the child she carried within just beginning to show. Astrid rose and kissed her future successor on the forehead.
“And how are you feeling today, my love?”
Lifa was quietly radiant as she took the Queen’s proffered hand. “I feel fine, thank you. Kara gives me a check-up every morning, so I assure you my health is good.”
Lifa settled onto the cushioned bench next to Astrid and accepted a cup of tea. “And I am constantly surrounded by Dallan, Rika, and all my priestesses, even more so than usual.”
“And that one?” Astrid asked, nodding to a solitary figure leaning against the balcony railing on the adjacent terrace.
“Especially that one,” Lifa said, “by my own demand.”
The three women watched Skye for a moment, who seemed absorbed in her own thoughts.
“The Tavinter like to retreat when they are saddened,” Lifa said, “and so we give her space. But none of us will allow her to sleep alone.”
“That’s good,” Astrid said, “and I know that Senta and Gimle have both taken Skye to their beds of late, for the same reason. They have reported that she expresses her grief much like we do.”
It was a statement with a hint of a question, a question which Lifa answered.
“That is so. She is melancholy, but as passionate in bed as always.”
“Good,” Astrid said again. She cocked her head to one side. “What is she looking at?”
Skye was no longer leaning against the balcony but standing upright, and she was no longer lost in thought, but staring intently off into the distance. A series of flashing lights were visible from far away. The message was not for Skye, but rather for the Tavinter that stood at the message station on the city gates of the Ha’kan capital, but Skye could read it. She began walking across the bridge that joined the two terraces, unhurried, but at a good pace.
“Your Majesty,” Skye said, bowing formally. “High Priestess.” She reached out and took Lifa’s hand, simply squeezing it as a greeting.
“Good morning, Skye,” Halla said warmly. “Is there a message from your scouts?”
“Yes,” Skye said, “there are two dragons on the way. But they are flying very fast and very high, and they have not been identified.”
“Where are they now?” the Queen asked, concerned.
“The message was relayed from the border, but at their speed, they will be here soon.”
“Skye,” Halla said, “you should find Senta. We should prepare—”
“There is no need,” Idonea said, having made her way across the bridge from the adjacent terrace. “One of the dragons is my brother.”
The Queen was visibly relieved. “Drakar? That is wonderful news. And the other?”
“I don’t know,” Idonea said. “But I can feel my brother’s presence, so I know it’s him.”
“Please have a cup of tea while we wait for him.”
Idonea accepted the invitation, as did Skye, and the five women sat awaiting the dragons’ arrival.
“And how are you feeling, Idonea?” Astrid asked
gently. The dark-haired mage was generally filled with a reckless exuberance. The mature, focused intensity she exhibited now was starkly different from her usual manner.
“I am well, High Priestess, thank you.”
“You know you are welcome to avail yourself of the services of our Ministry,” Astrid said delicately.
Idonea started to decline the invitation, then stopped. She had studiously avoided her normal flirtatious behavior, concentrating on her training. But a little extracurricular activity might relieve some pressure, especially one requiring no emotional investment. And if it felt like she was abdicating her responsibility, she assuaged herself with the thought that her mother, whose lust was legendary even for a dragon, would only approve.
Astrid could see Idonea waver, so she gently pushed her over the edge. “And really, all of the Priestess caste would be available to you.”
Skye choked on her tea while a smile played about the lips of the Ha’kan Queen. Lifa did not hide her smile at all; the offer from her mentor was so skillfully inserted into the conversation it prompted nothing but admiration.
Idonea shifted in her seat. She was usually the aggressor with both men and women, and as such, unused to being seduced. It was a novel experience for her. The sultry elegance of the High Priestess was both powerful and magnetic, and Idonea inwardly reiterated her opinion that the non-magical Ha’kan were magical in their own way.
“I think I would like that very much, High Priestess,” Idonea said, “I have a full day, but my evening is free.” She then leaned forward and slapped Skye on the back before she choked to death.
“I think I see the dragons,” Halla said.
The women stood as one and Skye regained her composure enough to use her very acute eyesight.
“The second dragon is big,” Skye said, “and blue.”
Hope stirred in Idonea. “He has found Kylan.”
Talan had been on her way to secure the assistance of her kind when Hel had appeared before Raine on the battlefield. Sensing the danger to her beloved, the Ancient Dragon sought to pass through Nifelheim to rescue her. Instead, she had been ambushed, and Raine had sacrificed herself in an attempt to rescue Talan, and both had disappeared. But no one knew what had become of the dragons that were supposed to come to their aid in the battle that never happened.
The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII Page 5