The voice was not that of a man, but of a woman, but Guyon had never heard a woman's voice so thin and drawn like this one. There was something not right about this newcomer, just like the rest of this place.
The figure dismounted and raised the hood from off her head. Beneath was the face of a fair lady, with silver gray hair that did not match her age and a pale complexion. She was nothing like Guyon had ever seen. She looked ordinary enough, but there was something different about her skin, something Guyon did not like but could not put his finger on. It looked almost...fake.
“Has no one let you in?" said the newcomer as she drew the horse nearer. The large guard kept pace beside her.
"No one," said Brit, on her guard. “How is it you are Malecasta’s lord?”
"Have you tried asking nicely?" The figure ignored Brit’s question, dismounted her horse, and drew ever nearer. Guyon found himself taking half a step back, his hand unconsciously raising his sword a little higher.
"Of course, why didn't we think of that?" said Brit, her voice infused with sarcasm. "All we need to do is ask my friend, Malecasta, to come out and be...friendly with me again. She won't say no to me."
"Malecasta desired you?" There was something dangerous in the woman's voice, and Guyon found himself even more unnerved. Something was certainly not right here, but he still restrained himself from pointing his sword directly at the pale woman. He had a feeling the other, silent figure would not be very pleased.
"Yes, it was a very unpleasant experience, and I do not know why I am back here except to help my friends." A look of unusual sadness rested on Brit’s eyes, and Guyon knew that she was likely thinking of Una. He secretly hoped that he was right, that she had survived despite what Brit had said.
“I’m sure I can allow you to enter,” said the willowy woman. “But if there’s no one inside, I’m quite sure I will be as stranded as you.”
"Why don't you just burn down the gates?” said Belphoebe, who had been uncharacteristically silent so far. They all looked at her and she met each of their stares in turn. "It's not like the drawbridge is raised, we have ready access to the door. All we need to do is set a fire and that door will burn like any other.”
Guyon almost forgot about the newcomer who said nothing to Belphoebe's remark, choosing instead to watch them with a level stare. But Guyon thought it through. "I think Belphoebe is right," he said. "All we have to do is burn it down. Why didn't I see it before?”
"Because you are stupid," said Brit, with a gleam in her eyes. She clearly liked the idea of burning down the gates. "Let us start now."
Brit hurried forward, grabbing some flint and steel from a pouch at her waist, a fire in her eyes preceding the fire she intended to create. Guyon glanced around, looking for something he could use as kindling, though Belphoebe had beaten him to it, already taking long strides towards the nearest tree.
"Well I can't let you try any of that," said the newcomer. Guyon whirled on her, his momentary lack of guard against the woman raised once again.
As he faced her, his eyes widened. Something had changed about her, though nothing he could actively make out in the moment. She still bore the face of a woman, but there was no hint of a flush to her face, no warmth in her veins. She was cold, she was unnatural. But above all, she emanated an evil that Guyon had only felt on two occasions before.
He felt the malice of the Seven Deadly Sins.
The woman threw out her hands, her arms stretching to unnatural lengths. Those hands caught Guyon and Belphoebe by the throat, and her grip was like that of death surrounding Guyon. A darkness fell over them, and Guyon had the strange feeling of desire for the woman, contrasting starkly with the situation. It was not like the desire for the Sin of Lust which had been a sensation of adoration, of pleasure. This was the desire of need, of jealousy, and yet one he knew was equally unnatural.
"I am Envy," said the woman. "I am to be the greatest of the Sins.”
Her grip around Guyon’s neck did not lessen, and he felt stars erupt in his vision. Brit rose from her place at the base of the gate and unsheathed her sword, being the only one not in a vice-like grip. But she was met by the giant of a knight, who stepped forward and raised his sword in warning.
"Make one move," said Envy. "And I will crush the life from their pathetic bodies."
As if at a signal, the gate opened behind Brit and out poured at least a dozen heavily armed guards, each of them pointing their weapons directly at the Armorican knight. How had they managed to stay so silent before?
Everything was going wrong, if Una were here maybe they would have a chance, but without her, Guyon did not see a way out of this. He had defeated the Sin of Mammon in the Shadow Realm, but the rules were different there. His life had not been in the same physical danger that now presented itself. Back then his strength had been in his virtue, his temperance. But none of that mattered now. What mattered was the stone-cold hand slowly squeezing, slowly draining his life away. If she did not let up soon, he would lose consciousness, and who knew if he would wake after that?
The armed guards surrounded Brit, pointing their weapons directly at her head, while a few circled around to where Guyon and Belphoebe stood riveted to the spot by the unnatural grip of the Sin of Envy.
"Take them inside," commanded Envy. "Duessa will want a word with them."
The grip on Guyon's neck loosed slightly, and he drew in a ragged, half-choked breath. His vision swam.
At the prodding of one of the guards, Brit slowly began moving in the direction indicated, a snarl on her face clearly indicating that she was not happy about the situation. But she had no choice, none of them did.
Both he and Belphoebe turned to follow suit, Envy’s unnaturally long grip only guiding them now, slowly pushing them forward while the remaining guards circled and kept their weapons pointed at the pair of them.
As they were passing under the gate, Guyon thought he heard Envy say, as if only to herself, "This is my moment of glory. With these three I will become the greatest of the Sins. Finally...finally."
Thunder cracked overhead.
They were sequestered in the dungeons of that tiny castle and left alone for some time. The only redeeming quality of their situation, was that they were allowed to be near each other. Though that was less of an advantage than Guyon originally thought it would be. Belphoebe stayed silent, as if deep in thought, whereas Britomart did nothing but mutter curses under her breath against Envy, against Malecasta, against the Saxons, and against virtually anyone who had ever wronged her in the past.
They saw no sign of Malecasta or anyone else for that matter, besides Envy and the few guards that had taken them into the castle. As time went on, Guyon began to wonder if anyone even lived in the castle. Britomart had insisted that this was the place where she, Una, and George had spent that one eventful night. But there was no evidence of any of that now. Guyon was sure that this castle was similar to the Bower of Bliss, where he and Una had defeated Acrasia. It was a place of dark magic, and they were not going to exit without some other kind of magic at their disposal. Perhaps they would get lucky, but they needed fire to fight fire.
Once again, he found himself thinking of Una, hoping she was alright.
Over the next few hours, he tried to engage the other two in conversation, discussing their situation. Perhaps they could find a way out, or maybe fight their way out when the guards returned. But Guyon didn't really believe much of what he said. Escaping from this place would be no simple task. In fact, he was reasonably sure that help would need to come from outside. He wondered idly how he had managed to grow so pessimistic of late. The others humored his lackluster ideas, but even they just wanted to pass the time. Guyon could tell none of them truly believed they had any real chance of getting out soon.
The clang of an iron door rang through the nearly empty dungeon, and all three of them instantly rose to their feet as figures emerged from without. Envy was back, flanked by a half-dozen of her guards, includ
ing the big one, all of them wearing dark helmets that completely obscured their faces. Envy wore a scowl that Guyon had not seen before, but which suited her like a tailored glove.
Based on Envy’s gaze, her scowl was likely intended for the leader of the procession, a dark-haired woman that Guyon had never met, but he knew instinctively who she was. From her appearance, her silky black hair that fell in ribbons across her shoulder, to the sultry way in which she walked, she could have passed for the Sin of Lust.
But from the increasing feeling of dread that entered the room upon her presence, and the descriptions that Una had given him in their travels, he knew this could be only one person.
"You are Duessa," said Guyon, keeping his voice steady, though he felt anything but.
"And you must be Guyon,” said the woman, seemingly unimpressed that he had correctly identified her. "You have been a thorn in our side for some time."
The hint of a smile touched Envy’s face, though it did nothing to lighten her countenance.
Duessa continued, glancing away from Guyon at Belphoebe and Britomart. “The girl from Armorica is of no interest to us.”
Brit’s face flushed a vibrant red. “You come in here and I will give you something to be interested about.”
Not for the first time, Guyon wanted to tell Brit to shut up, but Duessa only smiled. It was a cruel smile. “She has a temper. Now I see what Wrath saw in her.” She ignored Brit’s next outburst by striding closer to the cell where Belphoebe lay.
The wild woman sat against the wall, staring up at Duessa with not a hint of fear in her eyes. You might have thought she was sitting among friends, idly chatting under the shade of a great oak.
“Now you,” said Duessa, her eyes staring with such intensity that Guyon wondered how Belphoebe was able to maintain her seeming indifference. “You are a valuable prize indeed. What shall I do with the daughter of my greatest foe.”
Belphoebe’s lip twitched, the barest indication that she had even heard what Duessa said. “I am not my mother. It was not I who wronged you.”
“No,” said Duessa with a soft smile. “But if there is any feeling in that woman, I will squeeze it out of her, and what better to make her beg for my mercy than to torture her children.”
Belphoebe’s eyes regarded Duessa, narrowing slightly, dangerously. “Where is Amoret?”
“Now that is a secret worth saving,” said Duessa, lightly tapping her own lips as though pleased with herself.
Before Belphoebe could answer, Duessa turned in one swift motion to face Envy and the others. “You’ve met Envy, of course, and I believe one of you is familiar with Paridell, one of our newest recruits.” She waved a hand at the large knight.
“So it’s true,” said Guyon. “One of Gloriana’s knights has betrayed her.”
“I knew I should have gutted you back at that inn,” Brit growled. “When we’re done with you, you will not only beg for forgiveness from the Faerie Queen, but you will tell me everything you know about Artegall.”
A cold, deep laughter echoed out of the man’s helmet, but he said nothing.
“You concern yourself with such meaningless tasks,” said Duessa, the same amusement resulting in a cruel smile. “If you manage to live through the night, we will happily give you the location of Gloriana’s loyal knights, and you may kill as many as you wish.”
Brit ground her teeth but remained silent, knowing it was useless to retort.
Duessa turned back to Envy. “Where is the girl?”
Envy scowled, not even bothering to hide the expression from Duessa. “What girl?”
“Do not play coy with me.” Duessa barked in a harsh tone. “Una. She was last seen with the Armorican and is known to travel with this man.”
She pointed a finger at Guyon, and his heart leapt into his throat. They didn’t know where Una was. That meant she could still be alive. Guyon swallowed. Either that, or that monster Brit described had left nothing of his friend.
“They were alone,” said Envy in a low drawl.
“Damn,” Duessa snapped, turning to face Britomart. “What happened after the beast found you?”
“I thought I was of no interest to you.” Brit said, dryly.
A surge of power raised the hairs on Guyon’s neck, and in the next instant, Brit was lifted off her feet and hurled at the edge of her cell. She hit with a clang of armor against metal, her face mashed against one of the bars.
Guyon rushed to the corner of his cell, trying to reach her, but she was too far away for him to touch.
He couldn’t have helped in any case. Duessa’s outstretched hand made it clear who had lifted Brit with the magic. “Where is she?” Duessa growled.
To her credit, despite being utterly at the mercy of a being who could kill them all with a thought, Brit spat on the ground.
The bars groaned, and Brit let out a soft whimper as she was pressed harder into the unforgiving metal.
“You will answer my questions, weakling, or I will tear each limb from your body and keep you alive while I do it.”
“For all I know, she is dead.” Britomart said through clenched teeth. “Your beast knocked me out and when I awoke neither of them were anywhere to be seen.”
Duessa regarded the Armorican knight for an instant before snarling and turning back toward Envy. Brit dropped to the floor like a sack of flour.
“If she is not dead—” Duessa said to Envy, “—then Wrath has her. It is imperative that we find them both.”
“And what of these three?”
“Keep them here for now and see to it personally. I cannot have any of your toys becoming sympathetic and letting them escape.”
“You mean I am not going with you?”
“You?” Duessa looked Envy up and down with an incredulous look and nearly laughed. “The weakest of the Sins. What could you do?”
She did laugh then, a high-pitched trill that persisted long after she left them in the dungeons. Envy snarled after the Sin of Pride but did not look back. Soon, she and the guards were gone as well. Without the torches they carried, the world around them plunged into blackness.
24
Chaos erupted around Una beginning the moment she entered the Shadow Realm. Screams surrounded her on all sides, like having two great banshees at either ear. She clapped her hands to the sides of her head. The place was bright, bright enough that she had to close her eyes the moment she entered. The darkness of Wrath’s cave had not done her any favors.
The incessant screaming forced her to blink hard, letting her eyes adjust so she could see what was going on.
What she saw was not what she expected.
When Guyon had described the Shadow Realm, he had painted a picture very similar to how many Romans or Christians might describe the Underworld, with great underground caverns of fire and brimstone, filled with the low moans of the defeated dead. What she saw was nothing like that. It was vaguely familiar.
She stood at the top of a shallow hill with great plains stretching out in all directions. Surrounding her were the forms of men and women, though they were half the size of ordinary people. It was from them that the screams came. They weren’t the only thing that seemed small. All around she could make out trees, rivers, and dotting the landscape were standing stones nearly matching the size of the trees. But all of that, from the forests to the people, were small, and decreasing in size. Or was she growing larger?
A sudden panic seized her as her thoughts drifted back to what Wrath had said, about Cernunnos, the Horned One. Her father.
No, she couldn’t assume anything Wrath told her was true. She could not trust the enemy.
And yet…
Her spirits sank as she realized deep down that she knew he was right. Even now, the revelation stirred up memories of her mother sitting by the side of her bed, telling her stories of the ancient Lord of the Wild Hunt, the man who if you heard the baying of his hounds, it meant you or someone close to you would soon die. The stories had scared Una,
but her mother always told her that she had no reason to fear, that she would always be safe. She had assumed her mother was right because the stories were just that, stories. But maybe it had nothing to do with that. Perhaps her mother knew she was safe because the Angel of Death would not harm his own daughter.
She shook the notion out of her mind or did her best. Now was not the time to dwell on any of this. It would only distract her from the very real threat that was the Shadow Realm. Doing her best to forget about her father, she focused on taking in the world around her.
Suddenly she understood from where she recognized this place. It was from her recurring dream, where she stood over all of Great Britain, over all the world, and faced a multi-headed monster, sometimes with the heads of dragons, sometimes with her own face.
She whirled on the spot, expecting to find the beast now, but she saw nothing but the screaming humans around her, clutching at her knees now that she had stood there long enough for them to notice.
Una kicked out, partly in surprise and disgust. Human figures, naked and pale, went flying. They hit the ground in a tumble, but simply righted themselves and faced her again, their limbs slack, but their mouths still open in haunting screams.
The sound echoed the toil inside her mind. At the news and solemn realization of her father’s identity, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a small hole and never come out. And yet the screaming humans kept coming for her.
Una felt her breath increase. She could not stay here.
She looked around. How could she leave this place? Tentatively, she reached out with her magic, feeling it respond instantly to her will. That alone was enough to help her breathe a sigh of relief. At least her power was still with her.
Although could she even trust that power now? If her magic came from her father’s side, everything about it was now suspect. Had she so soon forgotten the voices in her head, the ones that had seemed to embody her power and tried to take it from her?
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