Issari entered the room, shoulders squared, trying to ignore the pounding of her heart. She grabbed the old woman's arm. "I will escort you downstairs to the chamber my father gave you."
"Oh, feisty, are we, young thing?" Shedah would not budge. Her squat form seemed as immovable as Issari's canopy bed of carved olive wood. "Your sister was feisty too, but we broke her spirit soon enough. I am over two hundred years old, did you know? The blood of princesses feeds me, keeps me alive, keeps me fresh. Your sister fed me for years. She came to love the leech, for when she bled, I did not beat her. It was a relief for her pain." Shedah's eyes narrowed. "You too can choose—pain or blood."
Though Issari trembled, she managed to raise her chin and speak clearly. "If you try to leech me, it will be your blood that spills."
Across her bedchamber, Issari could see signs of the crone's presence. A glob of spit bubbled on the floor. The chamber pot was full and foul. Drool covered some of Issari's stone figurines, mostly the ones representing Nahar, the shapely goddess of fertility. The witch seemed to have slept in Issari's bed; the sheets—soft silk embroidered with birds—were unkempt and damp. Issari had promised her father to remain in her chamber, safe from the demons that even now shrieked outside the windows. How long had the witch lingered here, and would she report Issari's absence to the king?
Shedah stepped closer, raising the leech in one hand. Her other hand reached toward Issari, her fingernails like claws about to strike.
"Your father himself promised me your blood," Shedah said. "That was the price of my tidings. He flies now to bring Laira home. Once the harlot is here, she can bleed too. For now . . . you will have to feed me alone." She spat. "Your sister is a small, weak little maggot, her blood thin; I have perhaps drained her too often. But you are ripe. You are strong and fresh."
Issari paled to think of Shedah beating her sister, draining her blood, and mixing it in her potions. She turned to leave. She would summon her guards. They were perhaps her father's men, but they were loyal to her too.
"I will have you tossed into the dungeon for your impudence!" she said and headed toward the doorway.
Before Issari could step outside, Shedah snapped her fingers and the door slammed shut. The walls rattled. Several clay tablets engraved with letters—poems Issari had written in her childhood—fell from alcoves and shattered. Issari grabbed the knob and twisted. The door was locked.
"You cannot flee me, child." Shedah drew closer and placed a leech on the back of Issari's neck.
The clammy creature latched on. Issari gasped and spun back toward the witch, one hand trying to pluck off the leach. It clung hard, and she could not remove it.
"Guards!" Issari shouted.
Shedah only laughed. "They cannot hear you. I have blocked this chamber from sound. Hush. Listen. Do you hear?"
When the crone fell silent, Issari listened. She heard nothing. The trees no longer rustled below in the gardens. Though she could see demons flying outside her windows—winged, oozing creatures—she could no longer hear their shrieks.
"Guards!" she cried again, and she knew they could not hear. She reached into her cloak, drew her dagger, and held the blade before her. "Stand back."
Ignoring the blade, Shedah drew another leech from her bucket. She tossed the squirming worm, and Issari winced and leaped back. The bloodsucker landed on her cheek, attached itself, and began to feed.
Issari cried out. Before she could reorient herself, pain flared on her wrist. Through wincing eyelids, she saw Shedah twisting her arm.
"I must whet my appetite . . ." The crone leaned in, and her rotted gums cut into Issari's wrist.
"Release me!" Issari shouted, but Shedah kept biting, and blood gushed, and the crone's throat bobbed.
She's drinking my blood.
Issari's fingers uncurled.
Her dagger fell to the floor.
Issari had never fought anyone before. All her life, she had been sheltered from the scraps so many children fought on the streets of Eteer. But today she balled her free hand into a fist. Today she was no mere princess; she was a savior of weredragons, an heiress to a crown, and she would not let this filthy creature defile her.
She drove her fist forward.
Her knuckles connected with Shedah's head with a crack.
Shedah released her wrist and hissed, opening her mouth to reveal bloodied gums. Her moles twitched and her brittle, white hair thrust out like a halo. The crone leaped forward, claws outstretched, and barreled into Issari. The two crashed onto the floor.
"Feisty, yes indeed." Shedah grinned above. Her gnarled knee drove into Issari's belly. "Your blood is as hot as your temper. It is delicious." A long, white tongue unfurled from the crone's mouth to lick Issari's cheek, smearing her with bloody saliva. "I will eat all of you."
Shuddering with disgust, Issari struggled, trying to kick off the witch. But the small, frail woman seemed stronger than a warrior. Issari could barely breathe. The crone's knee drove deeper into her belly, and Issari thought she would split in two, that her every internal organ would shatter. She reached across the floor, pawing for her dagger, but could not feel it.
Shedah raised a third leech and dropped it. It attached itself to Issari's neck. She felt it pulse as it sucked her blood.
"With your blood, I will brew potent potions, yes." Shedah spat. The glob landed on Issari's cheek, sizzling like acid. "They will make me live for many years."
Issari could barely breathe. The crone's hand wrapped around her throat, constricting her. The second wizened hand tore at Issari's tunic, and Shedah placed a new leech upon her; it sucked at the top of her breast. Weakness flowed through Issari, and her head spun. She felt blindly for the dagger, desperate to find it.
I have to stop her. I have to. Or she'll do this to Laira again. Tears budded in Issari's eyes. She did this to my sister so many times. I must stop her.
Her hand connected with something wet and soft—the toppled bucket of leeches, she surmised. Blindly, she grabbed one of the worms.
"Perhaps your father will let me keep you, princess." Shedah grinned her bloody grin. "You will be mine—my giver of life, my toy to torment, my—"
With a choked gasp, Issari thrust up the leech she held.
She slapped it against Shedah's eye.
The worm squirmed, latched onto the eyeball, and began to suck.
The crone screamed.
It was an inhuman sound, the buzz of a thousand insects, the cry of shattering bones and ripping souls, the cry of steam, of cracking wood in fire, or burning men. The witch stumbled back, and Issari gasped for breath and pushed herself to her elbows.
Shedah stood, grabbed the leech with her knobby fingers, and ripped it off. The leech came free with the eyeball still attached, leaving an empty socket.
No. Don't faint. Issari sucked in breath. Fight her.
She spotted her fallen dagger near the bed; it lay among several smashed statuettes. Issari grabbed the hilt, leaped up, and pointed the blade. "Stand back!"
But Shedah, enraged, leaped forward. She rose into the air and hovered for a moment, a creature of blood and rage and drool, more demon than human. Then she plunged down, claws extended, blackened gums bared.
Issari grimaced, blade held before her.
Claws slashed her shoulder.
Issari screamed.
Her blade thrust into the crone, tearing through leathery skin and into crackling, dry flesh.
For a moment Shedah hung upon the blade, suspended in the air like some deformed, bloated sack. Then she crashed down, twisting, writhing, screaming. Smoke rose from her and worms escaped her wound.
"I . . . I'm sorry." Horror pulsed through Issari. "I didn't mean to stab you. I just . . ." Her heart thumped and she knelt by the witch. "I can heal you. I know some healing. I—"
She gasped when Shedah clutched her arm. The witch stared with her one good eye. Ooze dripped from where the second eye had once peered.
"I curse you, chil
d." The witch spat. "I curse you with the pain of a thousand deaths in fire. I curse you to become a creature like your sister. I curse you with the heat of demons and the blood of reptiles. You will forever be unclean."
With a last spasm, Shedah retched, clawed ruts into the tiled floor, and lay still.
Issari stood, trembling, the bloody dagger still in her hand.
I killed.
She took a shuddering breath and her head spun.
I sinned. I promised to save lives. Now I've taken a life.
To be sure, she had taken a foul life. She had ended a creature that had tortured and betrayed and hurt many. But it was a life nonetheless. Issari had sinned. Murder was an abomination unto Taal, and when she touched her amulet, it felt so cold it hurt.
"I have to hide this."
She looked around the room. It was a mess of blood, ooze, and spilled leeches. Some of the worms were still attached to Issari, and she winced.
First I must take them off.
Knees shaking, she rummaged around for her tinderbox and lit a candle. Eyes narrowed, she held the flame to the bloodsuckers. With hisses, they burned and fell off her skin, bloated with her blood.
Next she stared down at the dead crone.
Do I burn her too?
If anyone discovered Shedah's corpse here, Raem would hear of it. Shedah had served the king, delivered Laira's location to him.
He will beat me bloody if he knows I slew her.
Issari did not know what to do. A princess, she had no friends to call upon, only guards and servants—men who would report to her father. Her only friend was her brother, and he languished in his cell. She bit her lip. She could not burn the body, not without raising a pillar of smoke for all to see. She considered dragging the corpse through the streets and out the city, but how? Even if Issari wrapped up the body, the city folk would smell it; Shedah had smelled bad enough when living, and her corpse already stank of rot and human waste.
The demons can get rid of her.
The thought chilled Issari. She remembered seeing the demon by the well chewing upon a dog. She remembered hearing Angel, the fiery queen of the creatures, begging her father for human flesh.
Issari tightened her lips, swallowing down her fear. She grabbed hold of Shedah's corpse. She tugged. The body was surprisingly heavy, and Issari grimaced as she pulled it inch by inch; it felt like dragging a sack of iron ore. She opened her sliding doors, grunted, and dragged the corpse out onto the balcony.
At once, as if attracted by the stench, three demons came flying toward her.
One of the creatures looked like a strip of dried flesh, its insect wings buzzing. Another could barely keep airborne; its bloated belly swung beneath it like a sack, and its red eyes burned in its pasty face. The third creature looked like flying entrails, warty and red and squirming as it flew, wingless. They were as large as horses, festering and reeking.
Issari took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and pointed at the dead crone. "Eat." She clenched her teeth and stepped back. "Eat until nothing is left."
One of the demons—the bloated creature with the swinging belly—gazed at her and hissed. "King Raem has forbidden the Children of the Abyss to feast upon the flesh of mortals."
Issari forced down the urge to gag; the stench of the creatures was overwhelming, even worse than the corpse. "King Raem has flown across the sea! I am his daughter, Princess Issari. I sit upon the throne in his absence. I give you leave to eat one mortal—this body alone! Feast upon it, then demand no further flesh."
The demons descended like buzzards and tore into the meal. Gobbets of meat flew. Bones crunched. The thin demon tore off the crone's jaw and gnawed.
Issari stepped back into her chamber, grimacing. As she watched one demon tear into Shedah's entrails, she couldn't help it. She doubled over and gagged. Her body trembled and it was a long moment before she could straighten again. Covered in blood, she stumbled back toward the balcony and gripped the doorpost for support.
All that remained of Shedah was a red stain.
The demons stood upon the balcony, necks bobbing as they swallowed their last bites. They gazed at Issari, eyes red, saliva dripping down their chins.
As she watched, they began to grow.
The living strip of meat lengthened, widened, sprouting higher and higher upon the balcony until it wavered like some malformed tree of rot. The pale creature with the swinging belly ballooned in size. Its abdomen extended so widely Issari thought it might burst, and through its translucent skin, she saw snakes coiling between its organs. The last creature, tube-like, bulged and lengthened into an obscene tapeworm the length of a boat. They could no longer fit upon the balcony but flew to hover before it.
They are as large as dragons, Issari thought, reaching under her tunic for her amulet. That's why they craved human flesh. It makes them grow.
They hissed at her, smacked their lips, licked their teeth, and reached out their tongues.
"We want more." Their voices were dry as old bones. "We want your flesh too."
She pulled out her amulet and held it before her.
"Leave!" She took a step closer, letting the sun gleam against the talisman. "You may never eat more human flesh. Nor will others of your kind. Leave!"
They flew closer, almost reaching her. One's claw caressed her cheek. Another demon's tongue licked her neck. She refused to cower or flee.
"We want more."
"You will have no more!" She raised her amulet as high as she could. "Here is the sigil of Taal, the god who banished your queen five thousand years ago. I banish you too! Leave this city. Fly to the sea and nevermore return to this land. Leave now or feel Taal's light."
The amulet shot out a beam, blinding, crackling, searing. The demons screamed, beating their wings madly, slamming against the balcony railings, ripping into stone, clawing at their faces. One demon ripped out its own eye, a horrible mimicry of Shedah's mutilation.
"Leave!" Issari shouted.
They're too strong, she thought. They've grown too large. They will not be cowed. Yet she snarled, stepped closer, and placed the amulet against one's flesh.
"Feel this burn and flee this place."
The demon skin sizzled, raising foul smoke. The amulet blazed red, and Issari cried out, for it burned her hand. She would not release it. She pulled the amulet back—it tore free with ripping skin—and placed it against another demon.
The creatures howled.
They wept blood.
They turned and fled the balcony.
Issari panted, her hand burning. She stared at the bloated demons; they were the size of the ships in the canal. They flew across the city, wobbling, crying out in anguish. The smaller demons watched from below, cawing up at their swollen friends. Only once did the three turn back, and when Issari held out her amulet again, they turned and kept fleeing. She stood watching from the balcony, shining her light, until they fled across the shore and vanished over the sea.
She dropped the amulet. It clanged against the floor, red-hot. When she looked at her palm, she saw the sigil of Taal branded upon her.
She stumbled back into her chamber, fell to her knees, and trembled for a long time.
TANIN
Tanin woke up upon a dragon's back, saw only sea around him, and yawned.
"Still no sign of land?" he asked, tapping his sister's scales.
He rubbed his eyes, yawned again, and sat up. He was in human form, but his sister flew as a dragon, her scales green, her horns white, her mouth full of fire. She looked over her shoulder at him, and her eyes narrowed.
"Are you blind? No land. No damn land. Not a sign for three days now." Maev blasted flame over his head, nearly searing his hair. "And we're running low on food. We turn back."
Tanin cracked his neck and rose to his feet upon the dragon's back. He wobbled and held out his arms for balance. Since leaving the southern coast, they had seen only water. Their packs—which rested behind him—held enough fresh water
, ale, and food for perhaps another three days.
"We'll find land." He shielded his eyes with his palm and stared south. "According to my map, Eteer is near."
Maev growled. "A charcoal drawing on tattered old buffalo hide isn't a map." She sighed. "Maybe Grizzly was right. Maybe Eteer is only a myth. Maybe—"
"Oh, be quiet and get some sleep," Tanin said, interrupting her. With another yawn, he leaped off her back.
He fell through the sky, the wind whipping his hair and clothes. He smiled, enjoying the freedom of it. Somehow falling felt even better than flying. He was only a small seed floating in the air, trapped in a world of blue—the water below, the sky above, and his sister a mere little annoyance. Sometimes Tanin wished he could fall forever.
Yet the sea grew near, and his sister waited. Tanin sucked in his magic and shifted. Beating his wings and blasting smoke, he soared as a red dragon. The green dragon dived from above, positioned herself above him, and aligned her wings with his. She descended slowly, finally landing on his back, her limbs draped across him. The weight nearly shoved Tanin back down toward the sea.
When Maev shifted into human form, the weight vanished. As a woman, she seemed to weigh almost nothing. When Tanin looked over his shoulder, he saw her on his back, a human again.
"One more day!" she said, her hair streaming in the wind. "If evening falls and we still see no land, we turn back home. Agreed?"
He grumbled and spat out fire, knowing they had no choice. Failure was better than death.
And yet I don't want to turn back, he thought, and a sigh rattled his scales. What did he have to return to? Life in a cave? Juggling in town squares as people booed and tossed refuse his way? Flying south was dangerous. He had already battled rocs, and who knew what other dangers awaited. Yet Tanin was willing to keep flying, to keep fighting, to drown his fear under hope.
Maybe I have no home, he thought. Not unless I find others. Not unless we build a tribe.
He looked back toward the southern horizon. "Agreed. But I still say the map was accurate. I—" Tanin blinked. "Maev . . . what is that?"
Requiem's Song (Book 1) Page 17