by N M Thorn
“Better late than never,” muttered Gunz with a half shrug and winced from the pain.
“Yeah, I can bring that Karma back, sans the crazy outfits. No magic—no outfits.” She laughed and got up, twirling in place. Her rags wrapped around her legs, sending clouds of dust in the air. “I do look sexy in this, don’t I?”
“Extremely,” he replied, closing his eyes. The conversation and all the movement took his remaining strength. Somehow, the pain in his sore body was getting sharper, not better. “Remember, you told me that punching me out would be free of charge? Can I call on that favor now?”
Karma squatted in front of him, searching his face with concern. “That bad?” she asked.
“Getting worse,” murmured Gunz, hardly able to move his lips. “I feel like… something is draining me… and the pain is becoming more than I can handle… ahh… knock me out. I’m serious.”
She kneeled and carefully lifted his shirt up. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, hardly touching his skin with her fingers. “The welts on your body that weren’t bleeding before are bleeding now. And the bruising around your ribs is getting worse, like the blood is still spilling below the skin surface.” She lowered his shirt and looked up at his shackled wrists. “And your wrists are bleeding again. I don’t understand how —”
“It is happening to him because the mighty Chernobog wishes for it to happen, witch.” A loud voice boomed behind them.
Karma jolted up and spun around. Gunz flinched and right away regretted as the pain almost doubled. A man whose body was covered in black chainmail, with a longsword at his belt, was standing by the bars, staring down at them with icy indifference.
“Witch,” ordered the man, waving his hand at Karma, “come closer.”
Karma glanced at Gunz and he gave her a short nod. She approached the bars and stopped in front of the man.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to put your hands through the bars, so I can shackle you.” He showed her the chains. “I’ll be taking both of you to see the Lord of the Nav.”
Karma folded her arms over her chest and cocked her head. “Not a chance. I’m not going to let you touch me without a fight.”
The man laughed, and the sound of his cold laughter reverberated from the walls of the dungeon. Then he pointed at Gunz, the chains in his hand jingling at his every move.
“What’s going on with your friend, witch?” he asked frostily. “He is not feeling well, is he? If you will disobey my orders, I shall make sure that he feels a lot worse.” He pointed at the leather belt with metal spikes that he was wearing. “Trust me, my arm does not get tired easily. I can beat him for hours without breaking a sweat.”
Karma glanced at Gunz, all color drained off her face.
“Karma, we need to see Chernobog and talk to him sooner or later. Perhaps you can find out what happened to Milana,” he said with a sigh and gave her an encouraging nod.
Karma turned back to the man and pushed her hands through the bars, allowing him to shackle her. “Please, don’t hurt him,” she said quietly. “I’ll do what you want.”
The man didn’t laugh, remaining cold and serious. He pulled out a bunch of keys on a large ring and found an old rusty one. He gestured to Karma to step aside and unlocked the door into the cell. Then he walked to Gunz and disconnected his chains from the ring on the wall.
Until this moment, Gunz didn’t realize how truly weak he was. As soon as the man let go of his chains, he knew that the only thing that was keeping him in the upright position were his restraints. His tormented body refused to obey him. Slowly he slid down and fell to his side. The pain around his ribs and his back became more than he could take. He moaned and closed his eyes, hoping to pass out.
Gunz felt the man’s hands on his arms, pulling him up. “Stop. Please,” he cried out, as every move intensified his pain. To his surprise, he felt the man stop moving him, carefully lowering him back to the floor, and heard him sigh.
“You will have to endure the pain for a short while.”
Gunz heard the man talking and opened his eyes. The man was on one knee next to him. His face was cold and emotionless.
“I will lift and carry you, and you are not going to enjoy the process. Mighty Chernobog ordered me to deliver both of you to his throne room, and this is exactly what I am going to do. If you want to scream, do not feel ashamed. It’ll help you deal with the pain.”
With these words, he easily lifted Gunz up and put him over his shoulder. Gunz grunted, clenching his teeth to stop himself from screaming. As the man made his first few steps, Gunz prayed that the walk from the dungeons to Chernobog’s throne room wasn’t too long. Every step the man took was radiating with an unbearable agony in his broken body.
He saw Karma falling into step with the man and six more guards joining them, surrounding them in a circle. When the man reached the stairway and started walking up, the pain became more than he could handle.
But no amount of pain could make him pass out, so he did what the man said. He let go of his control and screamed.
Chapter 16
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
Gunz wasn’t sure why, but he expected Chernobog’s throne room to be dark and musty like a cave. The room he was in looked nothing like a cave. It was more like a gothic cathedral or the Main Hall of the Castle in the City of Kendral, with a tall vaulted ceiling and giant columns, positioned along both walls. There were a few large windows on either side of the room, but they were purely decorative as there was nothing to see outside the castle walls. The windows were draped with heavy black panels. Each panel had the same golden symbol embroidered on them.
At the far end of the room, there was a massive throne. It was crafted out of dark wood and its legs were fading into a pile of animal skulls. The skulls didn’t appear to be thrown carelessly. They were part of the chair’s morbid design. The tall back of the throne and its seat were upholstered with black leather. A black bird that looked like an oversized raven, skillfully carved out of a solid piece of a dark wood, was sitting on top of the chair-back.
Next to the main throne there was a second one, a little smaller. It was fashioned in a similar manner, but instead of animal skulls, the smaller throne was surrounded by human skulls. A large scythe was positioned next to it, leaning against its back.
Gunz sighed. It had been a while since Chernobog’s man brought him here and his pain subsided a little. But sitting for a prolonged time in the kneeling position wasn’t helping. His chains were attached to the ring that was embedded into the marble floor, limiting his movements. It’s not like he wanted to move, but it would be nice to know that he could if he wanted.
Karma was kneeling next to him. She wasn’t shackled to the floor, but she remained motionless and quiet, with her head bowed down to her chest. Six guards were surrounding them, with their swords drawn. The man who escorted them here was gone. Undoubtedly, he went to report to his master that the prisoners were ready.
Gunz leaned forward to try to readjust his position slightly. As he was doing that, he caught his reflection in the polished black marble floor and shuddered. The dirty rags that were covering his body were stiff with dried out blood and torn on his chest. His face, drained of life, was covered in dirt and brown stains. The only thing that seemed to be alive on his face were his eyes and they were glowing red, as if all his remaining elemental fire power was redirected into his eyes. He tried to extinguish the red glow, but he couldn’t.
“Karma,” he whispered horrified, “when did my eyes start glowing red?”
“When we came to the tavern,” replied Karma quietly, without looking at him. “That’s how the coyote-demon knew that you were a Child of Fire. Your rune is also glowing, by the way.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to —”
“Silence!” roared one of the guards, striking Gunz on his back with the flat side of his blade. “You speak only when spoken to!”
A torturous gro
wl escaped Gunz’s lips as he fell forward on the cold floor, pain crippling him. It took some serious effort just to get back on all fours. Karma didn’t dare to move to help him. And the guards were gawking at his struggles with amused expressions on their faces.
He felt someone’s hands grabbing his shoulders and helping him up into the kneeling position. Gunz raised his eyes and saw the man who carried him here. He was staring at the guard who struck him, frowning.
“This man is half-dead. You did not have to add to his suffering,” he scolded the guard sternly.
“Thank you,” said Gunz, taken aback by this unexpected display of kindness.
“I do not take pleasure in pointless suffering of others. But do not thank me yet, for nothing good is coming your way,” said the man, shaking his head. “Now, both of you, behold your King, the Lord of the Nav, mighty god of Destruction, Chernobog.”
Gunz raised his eyes and held his breath. He got used to the height of his mentor Kal who was six-feet-eight, but the man who was standing in front of the throne was at least seven feet tall. He had obsidian black hair and deep black eyes and if Gunz didn’t know who he was, he would think that he was a Master of Power. The elemental powers were giving all the Masters of Power this coloring.
He looked like he was in his late thirties, but Gunz knew better. The man in front of him was an ancient Slavic deity, thousands of years old. He was one of the first gods of the Slavic pantheon. In his own way he was handsome, with his large black eyes, straight eyebrows that were meeting in a frown over his eyes. He had full lips, partially concealed by his well-groomed facial hair. But his expression was hard and cold, and the curve of his lips was betraying natural pride bordering with arrogance and proclivity to cruelty and ferocity.
The overwhelming energy of Chernobog’s magic and godly power surrounded him with a dark glow. He was dressed in a long caftan that was held on his waist by a wide leather belt. Black leather armor was fastened over his caftan and an enormous sword in a scabbard decorated with black onyx was attached to his belt.
Chernobog took his long black cape off and threw it over the back of his throne. Then he nodded to his man and sat down on the throne. Relaxing, he leaned against the back of the chair and peered at Gunz, his black eyes narrowed.
“A Child of Fire and a witch,” he boomed. His deep voice wasn’t loud, but somehow it managed to reach even the farthest corners of the throne room.
Gunz glanced at Karma. She was frozen in fear. Her head bowed down low, she was trying to take as little space as possible under Chernobog’s furious gaze.
“My lord,” said Gunz calmly, inclining his head in a bow. He caught Karma’s petrified gaze in the corner of his eye. She was probably thinking he was a nutcase, talking to the god of Destruction.
Chernobog lips twitched in a smirk as his obsidian eyes drilled deeper into Gunz’s chest. Gunz cringed inwardly, feeling Chernobog’s magic scanning him.
“What are you doing in my realm?” demanded the god of Destruction. “None of you belong here. And you, Child of Fire, you’re immortal. You have no business in the realm of the dead.”
It was pointless to lie to a god. The truth it is, decided Gunz.
“My lord,” said Gunz, meeting the god’s heavy gaze, “I was forced to cross into your domain against my will. And Karma and her girlfriend Milana fell into the Dark Nav accidentally when they approached the World Tree.”
“Accidentally?” repeated Chernobog and barked laughing, throwing his head back. “There is no such thing. You cannot accidentally fall into the Dark Nav. One of them had an intent to come here, and she was privy to the knowledge available to a chosen few. When they touched the Tree, one of them was powerful enough to wield magic that opened the path into the Nav. The World Tree connects the three realms, but also it has a passage that allows those with knowledge to open the gates into the Nav or to the Prav. Not everyone can do it. Not even all gods…”
“I don’t understand…” mumbled Karma. She threw a desperate glance at Gunz. “It’s not possible. I didn’t even know that it was possible to get into the Dark Nav and Milana… She’s just a lowly seer. Her magic is so insignificant that she can’t even cast some basic spells.”
“Interesting,” said Chernobog, rising. He walked up to them and stopped just a foot away. “So, where is your girlfriend now? Let’s ask her.”
Karma’s eyes widened as she craned her neck to look up at Chernobog. “She is not in your dungeons?” she whispered. “All three of us were taken at the same time. You were there, my lord.”
“Yes, I was there, but I do not recall her,” muttered Chernobog, rubbing his forehead. He turned around and walked back to his throne. He sat down and then waved his hand at his man. “Voron, can you please ask my wife to join us?”
The man, Voron, rushed out of the throne room and returned a few minutes later, followed by a young woman. She walked inside, the vibe of authority preceding her. Her face, while breathtakingly beautiful, had an imprint of unyielding strength and her walk had a bounce of irritation that every mortal woman had when she wasn’t happy with her significant other. She stopped in front of her husband, placing her hands on her curvy hips and frowned at him, tapping her foot.
“You called?” she asked icily. “What do you want now?”
“Morena, darling,” said Chernobog, rising, a peaceful smile on his face. “I need your help, my love.” He approached his wife, attempting to hug her, but she twirled away from him and sat down on her throne, crossing her legs.
“Sweetheart, I seem to have misplaced one of my prisoners,” said Chernobog, sounding apologetical. “I was wondering if you knew—”
“What do I care about your prisoners,” huffed the goddess of Winter and Death rising. “I know nothing, and I do not care—”
She cut herself in mid-sentence as her gaze stopped on Gunz’s face. Morena got up and slowly approached him. She grabbed a handful of his hair, jerking his head backward and bent over slightly, staring into his eyes. He knew exactly what the goddess saw in his eyes—the dancing flames, the energy of the Fire in its purest form.
Still holding his hair in her grip, she ran her nail over his cheek. A path of frost stained his skin and Gunz cried out, pulling at his chains. For a Fire Salamander, the touch of ice was worse than the touch of cold water.
“Oh, my darling,” purred Morena, turning to her husband, “you got yourself a little fire-pet here. Why didn’t you tell me, sweetie? What are your plans for him?”
Chernobog walked to his wife and put his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened for a moment but didn’t object to his touch this time.
“I don’t know yet, my love,” he replied, gently taking her hands away from Gunz. “I’m still trying to interrogate them and find out what they are doing in our realm.”
“Let’s hear then,” said Morena. She turned around and headed to her throne, holding her husband’s hand in hers. They both sat down and Morena waved at Chernobog. “Please continue. Why did you need me? You said you lost one of your prisoners?”
“My love, yesterday I captured the Fire Salamander and two witches. One of them is here, but the other one is missing,” said Chernobog. “Do you know anything about her whereabouts?”
“Me?” asked Morena, fluttering her long white eyelashes at her husband. “Why would I know anything about her? I didn’t even know you had any new prisoners. Just ask Voron. He’s the one you share everything with, not me. Sometimes I wonder if he’s the one who’s sharing your bed instead of your wife.”
“Morena, my love, what are you saying?” hissed Chernobog. “That’s completely inappropriate and untrue. There is no one I love more than you.”
“You’ve yet to prove your words with your actions,” muttered Morena, her eyes darting from her husband back to Gunz.
“Aw, Morena… Let’s leave this discussion for the privacy of my chambers.” Chernobog sighed. “Voron, tell me what happened yesterday. Where is one more witch?”
> “My lord, I remember that I brought two people into your dungeons,” replied Voron with a bow. “I locked the witch into the cell and then went to the interrogation chamber where your guards were taking care of this man.” He pointed at Gunz. “There was never a third person as far as I recall. I swear, my lord, I’m telling you the truth.”
Gunz glanced at Karma. She wrapped her chained arms around herself and was slowly rocking back and forth, tears running down her ashen face. Then she raised her eyes at Voron and pointed her trembling hand at him.
“You killed her,” she whispered. She jumped to her feet and before anyone could stop her, she launched herself at him. “You killed the woman I loved. You killed her!”
Karma swung her shackled arms and smashed them into the side of Voron’s head. The man collapsed, blood spilling from the fresh wound, coloring the side of his face scarlet. Morena hooted laughing, clapping her hands. Chernobog jumped to his feet, quickly covering the distance separating him and his right-hand man. Gunz was worried that the angered god would kill Karma in place, but there was nothing he could do to help. He was drained and chained to the floor.
Chernobog just touched Karma’s head, and she fell to the floor, unconscious but still alive. The Lord of the Dark Nav kneeled next to Voron and quickly checked him, making sure that he was alive. Then he touched his forehead, whispering something, and the man stirred in his hands. Chernobog sighed with relief and rose, helping Voron to his feet.
While all this was going on, Morena got up and walked back to Gunz. She squatted in front of him, observing his face with interest. He had no doubt that if Morena decided to decapitate him right now, no one would stop her.
“So, boy,” she said, her glacial eyes shining with freezing contempt, “now you are going to tell me the truth.”