The gardener finally made eye-contact with Hel and recognized his Mistress. He trembled. How long had she been standing here?
“The saplings, I want you to plant all thirty of them. I want an orchard of these trees.”
The gardener beamed with pleasure, a maniacal look in his eye. “As you wish, your Majesty.”
Hel settled onto her chaise throne next to the bed. The mortal had been cleaned and now had bandages on all four limbs. She slept restlessly, thrashing about, then wincing in her sleep at the pain the movement caused her. She was no less desirable for her battered and unconscious state, and had Hel been in the mood, she probably would have crawled into bed next to the Arlanian, pressed up against her skin-to-skin, then pleasured herself to satisfaction.
But Hel was not in that mood right now. Instead, she sat with her fingers tented, tapping the apex against her lips. It did not seem possible that this small, vulnerable creature lying in her bed had destroyed the Tree of Death. It did not seem possible that this mortal, Scinterian or not, was capable of uprooting that monstrous tree. Even the demons who had worked on it night-and-day, trying to fashion the hardened resin into twine, then rope, then chain, had been able to do little more than puncture it in strategic places to obtain the desired material. Many had died in the quest to create the substance from the sap that now entombed Talan.
Hel leaned back, her eyes still on her unconscious lover. Although she had no doubts as to her own power, she felt there were many in the pantheon who could not have accomplished what this Arlanian did today. And this was the great question that had blunted her anger and distracted her from administering punishment.
How had this mortal accomplished something that many of the gods could not?
Chapter 27
Idonea left Haldis by a side gate, quietly informing the guards she was going to go for a walk in the surrounding countryside. They graciously offered her accompaniment, as much to enjoy the company of the lovely mage as to protect her, an offer Idonea just as graciously declined.
She held in her hand a message, one that had simply appeared in her room, one without a courier or any obvious means of delivery. Idonea had only the slightest hint of the message’s author when Rika commented that she thought she had seen a dog on the terrace.
And now she made her way through the forest, unthreatened by even the most dangerous of beasts, heading toward the requested rendezvous. Animals had a way of sensing what was prey and what was predator, and the one walking through their territory was certainly not prey. The fact that she was accompanied by wolves, unseen but nearby, was even further deterrent.
It was not long before Idonea sensed the presence of the one who had summoned her, and when Fenrir appeared before her, she gave him a deep curtsy.
“That is not necessary. You are as much Raine’s daughter as Talan’s, which makes you my equal.”
“I don’t believe I am your equal, Fenrir. But I am grateful for the honor you extend to me.”
“Honors that I extend do not come with strings attached.”
Idonea knew to what he referred. “You speak of your sister. We translated the final line of the prophecy, and it appears your concern was valid. She did indeed have an ulterior motive, to make Raine her Consort.”
“Yes,” Fenrir said. “Hel would require her Consort to be venerated, so her elevation of Raine was as much for herself as it was for the Scinterian.”
“I would argue that it was entirely for herself,” Idonea said bitterly.
“And you would get little argument from me,” Fenrir said, “although Hel does treat her so curiously.”
“You have seen her again?” Idonea asked, keying on his melancholy tone.
“Yes. She now wears the raiment of the Consort, so it has been officially declared, at least in the Underworld.”
“Where else would it be declared?” Idonea asked, her eyes narrowing.
“That is one of the reasons I asked you to speak with me. It has been brought to my attention that Hel has visited Ásgarðr of late, and upon more than one occasion.”
“What purpose would Hel have in visiting the heavenly city?”
“I’m not certain. She hasn’t been there for eons, a mutual disenchantment between her and the rest of the pantheon.”
Fenrir could see that Idonea did not understand the politics he was trying to suggest. “I should explain. Contrary to what mortals believe, the Underworld was not given to Hel as a punishment, but as a reward. It is a position of unmatched power and responsibility.”
“And why was it given to Hel?”
“Loki, our father, was always one of the Allfather’s favorites, and Hel is his favorite grandchild.”
“Really?” Idonea said, thinking far less of the Allfather.
“Yes, and now it appears she is back in his good graces since she has been on her best behavior.”
“And when did this good behavior start?” Idonea asked sarcastically.
“When do you think?” Fenrir responded.
“When Raine was taken.”
“Yes, what the gods consider good behavior and what we would consider good behavior are two different things. Hel has kept her Hyr’rok’kin from the mortal realm, has stopped her endless forays against the borders of other realms, and in short, has done everything to gain in favor with her grandfather.”
“Even though she has kidnapped my mother and Raine to do so.”
“The gods care little for such trifling details,” Fenrir said, making it clear by his tone and expression that he did not consider them trifling, and that he himself cared a great deal. “Raine also sent a message,” he continued reluctantly, “one directed to all of her friends, but one I feel I should give only to you.”
“What message?”
“She asked me if it was true that Hel had withdrawn the Hyr’rok’kin from Arianthem, and that there was no battle the day that she was taken. When I told her yes, I could tell by her face that she had not known. When I confirmed that these things were true, she said ‘tell my friends not to attempt to rescue me. Tell them to leave me to my fate.’”
“So Hel has told her of the prophecy.”
“It would seem so.”
“So is that why you came?” Idonea asked angrily. “To talk us out of rescuing her? To leave my mother to some unknown fate?”
“Of course not,” Fenrir said, his dark eyes glowering. “I would never abandon my friend.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because,” Fenrir said, exasperated, “not everyone in Ásgarðr is as fond of Hel as the Allfather, and, for whatever reason, certain gods have been willing to slip me information on her comings and goings.”
Understanding was beginning to dawn on Idonea.
“And if I know when my sister is absent from the Underworld,” the wolf god continued, “the best time to mount an attack will be—”
Idonea finished for him.
“—when she’s gone.”
Chapter 28
The touch of the handmaidens awoke Raine. They were washing her wounds and rewrapping her bandages with great care. Hel sat on her throne, observing the ministrations of her servants, and her emerald eyes flicked to Raine as she stirred.
“Her wounds heal quickly,” one handmaiden said.
“And cleanly,” said a second.
The handmaidens often finished one another’s sentences, and a thought would sometimes require the entire group before it could complete itself.
“When most in the Underworld don’t at all,” said a third.
“And they didn’t even touch these pretty markings,” said a fourth, caressing the Scinterian scars.
“That is enough,” Feray said, clapping her hands. The handmaidens reluctantly obeyed, quitting the most pleasant duty assigned them. Feray tried to judge the mood of her Mistress at the
se improprieties, but Hel did not appear even to notice. Her focus had been entirely on the Arlanian since the moment she had returned, her vigil comparable to the one that she had undertaken when the mortal had first been captured in Nifelheim.
“Is there anything else you require?” Feray asked.
“No.”
Feray bowed out of the room. The expected punishment had never come, not for her or Faen, nor for the guards. She wondered if the mortal herself would bear the brunt of Hel’s anger, and almost felt pity for the Arlanian.
Raine was silent in the bed, steadily returning the gaze of the Goddess.
“You will not,” Hel began, “destroy anything else in my garden.”
Raine recognized the manner of speaking. Punishment could come as a result of disobeying many things in the Underworld. Things that were understood, things that were implied, things that were written down somewhere. And then there were the things that came from Hel’s mouth as direct commands. To disobey an explicit order from the Goddess was to risk annihilation, and Hel spoke the words as if obedience was not only expected, but a foregone conclusion. All that was required was for her to speak, and the thing was done.
Raine said nothing.
“And you will not damage yourself in such a way,” Hel continued, nodding at the bandages, “again.”
Raine still said nothing, and Hel merely sighed and stood up. She approached the bed, and it was with some consternation that Raine realized she could not move. The Goddess was restraining her, something she had done less and less of late.
“So many of my subjects are easy to discipline,” Hel said, sitting down on the bed. “They respond to pain, to torture, to threats, to humiliation, even to the Membrane. But you,” Hel said, resting her hand upon Raine’s thigh. “You respond only to one thing.”
The hand disappeared beneath the robe, stroked the inside of the thigh, and found what it was seeking. Raine muffled a cry, desperate to maintain any semblance of control, and closed her eyes against the sensation. Hel watched for the tell-tale signs that told her all resistance had vanished, and they were not long in appearing. She had only to thrust her fingers up inside that inviting warmth, begin a gentle circular motion with her thumb, and the nipples hardened, the lips parted, and the eyes opened, their violet depths filled with self-recrimination.
“Ah, that’s better,” Hel said as her hand continued its gentle work. “All I do is bring you pleasure, raise you up above all my subjects, and you return my generosity by destroying my garden.”
Raine would not argue with her, not expound the endless list of grievances she had against the Goddess, not detail the infinite, hated things that she carried in her heart. She would only endure Hel’s attentions, endure her own weakness, and keep her heart and mind separate from what was happening.
Hel had no designs on Raine’s heart, but the mind would belong to her. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she said, and leaned down to kiss Raine with a passionate and prolonged probing. The connection had the desired effect, for Raine was no longer a passive recipient of pleasure, but actively returned the kiss. Hel murmured her own pleasure as she felt the quickening rhythm of the hips, and then the release between the legs as they surrendered to the thumb and fingers. There were times when Hel wanted to prolong the act, delay the gratification, and there were times when she wanted to bring climax quickly, affirming her mastery of the body beneath her hand. This was one of those times.
But Hel was not done, that much was clear as Raine sought to catch her breath and the Goddess stood and removed her robes. Raine did not want to look at the voluptuous curves, the beautiful breasts, the flat stomach and all that lie below. But her eyes sought out the demonic loveliness like an addict sought out the drug that would destroy her.
“I hope your injuries don’t bother you too much,” Hel said, rolling Raine over onto her stomach, then burying her face in her hair. “You have a long day ahead of you.”
A spot of blood had seeped through on the forearm bandage, but that was the only sign of damage from the day’s rigor. It really had been a day for the ages, Hel thought, and she could not recall ever having taken such pleasure in the discipline of another. Although her treatment of the Arlanian could hardly be called punishment, the marathon session was indeed punishing.
Her captive stirred, and Hel adjusted her position so that Raine’s head was on her chest, but she could still look into the side room and see her other captive. Raine lifted her head, disoriented, and her eyes focused upon Hel and their intimate position. She followed Hel’s gaze to the translucent amber prison, then lowered her head back down.
Hel toyed with Raine’s hair, still admiring Talan in the adjacent room.
“Do you think she can see us?”
Raine’s response was immediate. She turned her back to the Goddess.
“There is no ‘us.’”
Hel’s reaction was just as immediate. She rolled Raine onto her back and pinned her so they were now face-to-face.
“Perhaps I should have been more clear,” she said through gritted teeth. “What I meant to say is, do you think she can see you writhing beneath me, moaning, coming over and over and over again, as I climax on top of you?”
Raine stared up at the woman, her eyes blue, her tone even, and although her words were whispered, they were quite clear.
“For your sake, you’d better hope not.”
Hel shoved her to the side in disgust, got up, and yanked on her robes. She strode from the room, knocking over a black vase which fell to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Raine pulled the sheets up around her neck, shivering. Her body temperature had dropped precipitously as Hel’s fury had spiked. She rolled over onto her side, gazing at the silver-haired woman who stared out at nothing. Despite her cold and exhaustion, she gathered the sheets to her and got out of bed. She padded into the shrine, wrapped the sheets about her as best she could, then curled up on the floor next to the block of amber. She drifted off to sleep, unconcerned that she would be found, doubting that there was anything else she could do that would make Hel any angrier than she already was.
Chapter 29
If only there were more of our kind,” Kylan said.
She sat in the Ha’kan royal garden, admiring Idonea’s skill as she cast a number of spells. Drakar, too, admired his sister, for reasons beyond her skill.
“We had no choice but to kill those that sided with Volva,” Drakar said.
“No,” Kylan said, “I’m not talking about them. I have no qualms about killing the lesser of our kind. I wish that we had more Ancient Dragons.”
“Well, you and my mother, not to mention Raine, have had your hand in their dwindling numbers.”
“Don’t make me clarify myself further, boy,” Kylan said, “I meant more dragons of your mother’s pedigree.”
“Well, I have been attempting to plant my seed in almost everything that moves for years, with absolutely no luck.”
“That is because you are, or at least will be, an Ancient Dragon. We are not very fertile.”
“You have no children?” Drakar asked, for the first time realizing Kylan had never spoken of offspring.
“No,” the dragon said, “like you, it’s not for lack of trying. But I guess Ancient Dragons were meant to be rare. Speaking of which,” Kylan said as something occurred to her, “you slept with Volva, did you not?”
“It is the first and only time in my life I have used protection,” Drakar said, raising his hands. “The thought of accidently breeding with that witch turned my stomach.”
“Good,” Kylan said, relieved. But then the details piqued her interest. “And how exactly did you do that?”
“A nice little spell from my little sister, encasing the family jewels in an invisible barrier.”
“She really is talented, isn’t she?” Kylan said, her attention
returning to Idonea.
“That she is,” Drakar agreed, and Kylan cast him another glance. The boy’s infatuation really was something to behold.
“Speaking of Volva,” Kylan began, and Drakar immediately interrupted.
“Let’s go kill her.”
“What I was going to say,” Kylan continued, “is now that I am healed and we are currently of little use here, perhaps we should go seek her out.”
“And kill her.”
“Volva will not fall as easily as Jörmung did,” Kylan warned. “She is far more dangerous and would be a challenge even for your mother.”
“Still, I think we should kill her.”
Kylan sighed. “Yes, that would ultimately be the goal. To kill her. Or at least disable her enough so that she can’t interfere in our plans. The problem is, she can sense me coming from miles away. The only way she and Jörmung were able to surprise your mother was Hel let them pass through Nifelheim.”
“Even then, my mother was expecting them.”
“Yes, but because your wise mother knew they were coming, not because she sensed them. But Volva will know that I am near, and I certainly can’t cut through Hel’s realm.”
“I see,” Drakar said. “This is a problem.”
“I would not be surprised if Volva can sense you, too,” Kylan said, “you are getting very near your maturity.”
The comment filled Drakar with pride, causing him to puff out his chest in a juvenile display that instantly belied the compliment.
“Or not,” Kylan said. A newcomer entered the garden, and the cool blue eyes settled on the fair-haired Tavinter. “Now that is a possibility.”
“What is a possibility?”
“That youngster there, Skye. I have seen the spells she has been working on. They might serve to conceal a dragon.”
“Do you think she can hide something that big?”
“I do,” Kylan said, “and we could certainly test it out ahead of time. I wonder if she would be interested?”
“Oh please,” Drakar said, rolling his eyes. “I have seen the way she looks at you. You need only thrust your breasts in her face and she will follow you anywhere.”
The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII Page 13