Volva attacked before she was even fully aware of her enemy. Kylan was engulfed in flame, facing the gold dragon full on. This greatly diminished the effect of the attack, for dragon scales were designed to repel frontal assaults, and even those from the side. That’s why Kylan’s initial attack had been so successful; she had taken advantage of the weakness to the rear without the normal protection of the tail.
“You bitch!” Volva shrieked.
Kylan did not waste breath on a retort, rather blew out another bitterly cold attack. Volva countered with fire, but Kylan’s second attack was also effective, burning the exposed wounds with frostbite and causing the gold dragon to scream again. Skye could not imagine the fluctuating temperatures in the room, and had a greater appreciation for the Scinterians who had battled them. Volva’s flame would have melted her and Kylan’s frost would have frozen her solid. Either one would have killed her instantly.
Kylan whipped her tail around and the barbed spikes raked across Volva’s face. Volva retreated out-of-range of the deadly appendage and let loose another funnel of fire. Kylan countered with frost and closed the distance between them, her great jaws snapping outward at Volva’s wildly undulating neck. Kylan clearly had the upper hand and was pressing her advantage, slowly but surely cornering her adversary.
But something about Volva’s retreat was bothering Skye. Perhaps it was Tavinter intuition that caused her to scan the area around the dragons. It was hard to see because the world was still the clear viscous fluid to her, but the trap became apparent when she looked hard enough.
“Look out!”
But Skye’s warning went unheeded because it went unheard. Still within the ephemeral spell, Kylan could no more hear Skye than she could see her. Volva tripped the hidden switch and Kylan looked up just in time to see the boulders tumbling down upon her. The huge rocks struck her in the head, stunning her, then trapping her wings as she crumpled to the ground.
“I had saved this for Talan,” Volva said, “just in case she ever escaped the clutches of Hel. But I’m happy to use it on you.” She flicked another switch with her tail.
Skye looked up in horror as an enormous block of stone came tumbling down from the top of the tower. It was so massive it would crush Kylan, who was pinned by the smaller boulders. Skye did not think she had enough left in her to remove Kylan from the path of the falling stone, so she did the next best thing.
The stone disappeared.
Volva stared in disbelief as the massive block winked out of sight. Expecting to see the bloodied remains of her enemy smashed to bits, instead she was left staring at empty space. And beyond that empty space stood a small figure in the far corner of the room, hands raised as if admitting that she was the one who had just thwarted all her carefully laid plans.
Skye stared at the gold dragon, who was now visible in full color since she had released the spell on herself in order to cast the spell on the block of stone and make it pass through Kylan and the floor.
“You!” the dragon hissed.
Skye did not hesitate but fled through the door. The thud of the dragon in pursuit shook the castle walls and they shook more as Volva came through the doorway, taking out half the stone supports as she skidded around the corner. Skye used every bit of her Tavinter speed as she sprinted down the massive hallway, trying to gather her strength to cast a spell, knowing that the sewing needle at her side was useless.
She cringed as if she sensed an impending attack and darted behind a stone pillar as fire blasted down the passageway. She did not wait even a moment, but began sprinting down the blackened tiles toward the entrance, desperately trying to decide on a course of action. She might have just enough strength left to make herself ephemeral once more, but that would leave Kylan at the mercy of Volva. No, she really only had one option, and she was not even certain that she could do it, or if it would work. Her lungs burned as she ran towards the open gate, and she could feel the dragon right behind her. One last burst of speed put her through the opening…
And then the dragon screamed.
Skye stumbled and went to the ground, holding her ears against the awful noise. She crawled on all fours away from the dragon who was now thrashing about in agony. She pulled herself behind a stone bench, trembling as she looked over the top of it.
Volva was trapped by the iron gate that had not been open. In her pursuit, the path before her was clear and she assumed the gate was retracted upward. But Skye had used all that was left of her strength to make it ephemeral. She had hoped to kill the dragon, but Volva had nearly been on top of Skye when she sprinted through. When the gate materialized, it materialized across Volva’s tail, severing, or nearly severing, the appendage.
Volva, in her agony and rage, finished the job as she pulled her bulk away from the iron gate and separated the tail. She thrashed about in torment once more, and Skye ducked down beneath the bench. But Volva wasn’t looking for her any longer, and Drakar’s distant roar of challenge removed any thought of remaining. The gold dragon staggered to the right, then awkwardly took flight, her aerodynamics completely compromised by the lack of a tail. She flapped in an ugly, cumbersome manner, and were it not for the steepness of the surrounding terrain, she might have plummeted to the ground. But she was able to glide down the incline, gaining no altitude, but escaping on the updrafts of the mountain air.
Drakar landed a few moments later to find the Tavinter sitting dumbly on the bench. She seemed in total shock, which was fitting given the amount of blood and damage in the courtyard.
“By the gods,” he said, transforming to his human state, “what happened here?”
Skye looked up at the handsome young man. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to open that gate.”
They found Kylan still trapped beneath boulders. She was battered and bruised, as well as a little stunned from the impact, but her injuries were not life-threatening. Drakar thought he could remove the boulders, but even the slightest movement caused Kylan pain.
“Can you transform?” Drakar asked.
“Yes,” Kylan said, “but I’m afraid these boulders will crush me in my smaller form.”
“I am too tired to make her ephemeral,” Skye said. “I don’t have enough power left. But these rocks here,” she said, pointing to the ones that pinned Kylan’s wings, “they are not leaning against anything but Kylan, so nothing will collapse if I remove them.”
“She will still be pinned,” Drakar said.
“If you can support those boulders there, she can change to human form,” Skye said, “and I can pull her free before the rest collapse.”
Drakar analyzed the pile. The Tavinter’s logic was sound. It would require speed and good timing, but it could be done.
“Does that sound reasonable?” he said to Kylan.
“It does. Let’s do it.”
And so Drakar propped up a good many of the larger boulders, Skye used the remainder of her strength to make a few of the smaller rocks disappear, and Kylan transformed, pulling herself from the pile before the entire thing collapsed. She rose to her feet, brushing the dust from her blue armor.
Skye collapsed, utterly exhausted, and Drakar caught her before she fell to the ground. He slung her about his torso as if she weighed nothing, carrying her easily on his back and supporting her legs with his arms. She had only to lean against him and he had her whole weight.
“So will someone explain what in the world happened here?” Drakar asked. He offered his arm to Kylan as they started down the long hallway, and he carried the Tavinter on his back.
“Skye was able to get us right in front of Volva, undetected,” Kylan said. “But I had to materialize to affect her. I surprised her and easily got the upper hand, but then she led me into a trap. I would have been crushed, but Skye cast her spell on a dragon-sized block of stone that was about to fall on me, and made it disappear.”
“That was hard,” Skye said, her voice muffled as her face was buried in Drakar’s back.
“I can imagine,” Kylan said. “Then the last I saw was that Skye had reappeared and was fleeing for her life down this corridor.” Kylan’s voice trailed off as her gait slowed. She came to a stop. “Is that what I think it is?”
Drakar grinned. “Yes, yes it is.”
Volva’s long, golden tail was lying in the center of the hallway, blocking most of the entrance. Although enormous, it was a pathetic-looking thing, shriveled on one end and bloody on the other.
“That was actually easier,” Skye mumbled into the back of Drakar’s shirt.
“By the gods,” Kylan murmured.
Skye leaned back far enough to have an articulate conversation. “I tried to kill her, but she was right on top of me, so I only got her tail. She could hardly fly without it.”
“She will hardly be able to do anything without it,” Kylan said, her own backside cringing in involuntary commiseration. “You may not have killed her, but you have accomplished our goal. Volva will be incapacitated for years, and can no longer interfere. It may take decades for that to grow back.”
“If it grows back at all,” Drakar said with satisfaction.
Kylan turned to the youngster who had once again buried her head in Drakar’s back, and who was now almost asleep. The girl was astonishing, not only in her power but in her creativity in using it. Idonea had often commented that this creativity was what made mages potent, even when all else was equal.
“I don’t think you should fly with those injuries,” Drakar said, examining Kylan.
“Do you have something else in mind?” Kylan asked, a saucy tilt to her chin.
Drakar made an elaborate bow. “I would be happy to transport you, my lady.” He handed Skye off to Kylan, then disappeared in a flash of red light. Kylan helped the Tavinter up onto his back, then climbed up herself. It was a novel experience, feeling Drakar’s great muscles flex beneath her as he leaped skyward, for she had never ridden another dragon in her human form.
As she settled into his comfortable rhythm, leaning against one bony plate while the Tavinter slept in her arms, she thought perhaps she should do this more often.
Chapter 31
The row of saplings bordered the entire garden. There was no doubt in Raine’s mind that these were cuttings from the Tree of Death, and that her actions had now spawned an Arbor of Death. True, it would take decades, possibly centuries for them to obtain the size of the tree she had destroyed, but when they were full-grown, their potential would be hideous.
Feray watched the Arlanian closely as the woman stared down at the twisted little seedlings, knowing that her vigilance was probably unnecessary. The Goddess had warned the mortal against further disobedience, threatening not her but her helpless, entombed lover. It had been enough to keep the Arlanian in check, to keep her from harming herself or anything else. Still, Feray watched as the mortal ran her fingers over the blue and gold markings on her forearms, unconsciously tracing their outlines. She had done this often of late.
“Do those hurt?”
“What?” Raine said. “No, they are scars, long ago healed. They are sensitive at times, but they don’t hurt.”
“I am surprised that Scinterians, being such fierce warriors, would allow anyone to do that to them, even another Scinterian.”
Raine smiled a mocking smile. “Well, that’s just it. I didn’t ‘allow’ anyone to do anything to me.”
Feray’s expression communicated that she did not understand, so Raine continued.
“The hardest part of obtaining Scinterian markings is that they must be self-inflicted. It requires assistance, to a degree. But the act itself is always self-initiated. Believe me, it is harder to do this to yourself than to be held down and have someone else do it.”
Raine’s eyes were so pale a blue they seemed to glow like the fluorescent plants surrounding her.
“All of my worst wounds, past, present, and future, are self-inflicted. But always with a purpose.”
The enigmatic words made Feray uneasy. She motioned that the mortal should return to Hel’s chambers, and as she followed her, she determined to repeat the exchange to the Goddess later.
Hel gave one last, great thrust and then collapsed on her lover. She could feel the mortal’s heart beating with the exertion of her climax, could feel the rise and fall of her chest as the Arlanian sought to catch her breath. This had been a particularly enjoyable session, for she had once again brought out the “blessed phallus” and demanded that her captive lover maintain eye contact with her the entire time she drove her to orgasm. Or at least until those beautiful purple eyes fluttered closed, unable to remain open as the body was wracked with spasms of pleasure.
Hel was content to simply lie there for an extended period of time, enjoying the coolness of the skin beneath her. Finally, she rolled over onto her side, her breasts pressed against the muscular arm as she toyed with the outlines of the ridged abdominals.
“Do you know the moment I love beyond all others?”
Raine had no desire to engage in pillow-talk with the Goddess, but she knew better than to ignore her. Still, she could not control her sarcasm.
“When I am ‘writhing’ beneath you, as you so poetically put it before?”
The sarcasm only amused Hel.
“No, I do love that. But there is a moment right before that,” she said, tracing the curvature of the ribs, “a moment just before your eyes turn violet. The moment where, despite your every effort, you realize that you’re going to give into me.”
There was something dangerous in Hel’s words, and Raine stiffened. The taunting was not unusual, but the trajectory of the conversation seemed to be veering into an unknown treachery.
Hel continued, her words spoken without malice, but utterly cruel. “It is the instant right before your body betrays you, that instant where all the strength of your father gives way to the weakness of your mother.”
Raine sought to control her anger. She did not want to engage with the Goddess, but she could not help herself. “My mother was not weak,” she said through clenched teeth.
“No,” Hel said, then with a significant pause, “she was not.”
It took a moment for the words to sink it, but in that instant, all of Raine’s fears were confirmed. She began struggling wildly striking out at the Goddess with all her might. But Hel merely laughed at her, restraining her with her weight and her will. Still, the restraint was not accomplished easily, a fact that only seemed to please Hel.
“You are peculiarly strong,” the Goddess said, “which makes your surrender all the more enjoyable.”
The struggle went far longer than usual, with the Arlanian thrashing and fighting, but eventually Hel was able to subdue her with kisses, then by thrusting her breast in her mouth, triumphantly feeling not the bite she was prepared for, but a suckling filled with desperation. And she truly gained the upper hand when she was able to work the phallus back inside the Arlanian, pinning her to the bed with both her weight and the penetration. And the mortal moaned in both anguish and desire as Hel gently began working Sjöfn’s infernal device, quickly giving Hel the moment she loved beyond all else, then everything else beyond it.
Chapter 32
Skye slept for almost two full days on returning to the Ha’kan capital. She was rarely alone, for Dallan, Rika, Kara, and the Priestesses kept a constant rotation of curling about her in her bed. And Lifa, who had taken to napping as her pregnancy progressed, was happy to take her rest pressed against her beloved Tavinter. So when Skye awoke, it was to find the loveliness of the future High Priestess lying next to her.
“You had us all worried,” Lifa said softly.
“Worried?” Skye said, her mind still muddled with sleep. “I’m fine. I was just tired.”
“Kylan told us what you
did, saving her and nearly killing Volva on your own.”
“It was hardly on my own,” Skye said, rubbing her bleary eyes. “I thought Kylan had her beat, but then Volva sprang a trap on her. I was running for my life and just got lucky.”
Lifa kissed her forehead. The modesty and diffidence of her little Tavinter were as enduring today as they had been the first day she had seen her, seated on a bench at the Sjöfn Academy outside the Queen’s throne room. Idonea had warned of the arrogance associated with magical power, but not a one of the Ha’kan thought that would be an issue with Skye.
“You can downplay it all you want. But when an Ancient Dragon sings your praises, you have accomplished something. But are you sure you’re all right?”
Skye wrinkled her brow, for Lifa was persistent in her concern.
“I was just really tired, but I’m fine now.” The feel of Lifa’s breasts pressed against her arm finally registered on Skye, and her eyes drifted to them. “In fact…”
“Oh no,” Lifa said, laughing. “I am under strict orders to send you to Y’arren as soon as you are up and about.”
“All right,” Skye said, her disappointment obvious.
“But,” Lifa said, “the rest of my day is free. So once you are finished?”
Skye sprang out of the bed, invigorated. “I will be right back,” she said, pulling on her clothes as she scrambled out the door, followed by the beautiful melody of Lifa’s laughter.
Y’arren raised her head as the young Tavinter approached. The girl looked well, perhaps a bit pale, but there was a spring in her step. Idonea was seated next to her in the circle of stone benches, and as Skye neared, the wizened elf motioned for her to take the seat opposite her. Idonea, too, examined Skye closely.
Skye flushed under the scrutiny. “I’m fine, I assure you.”
Y’arren smiled gently. “I’m sure you are, young one.”
“Kylan told us what you did,” Idonea said, “and we just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII Page 15