Vessel of the Gods Boxed Set

by Jada Fisher

  “What— How did you—”

  “Do you really think you can seduce me with your lazy magic when I’ve got the thrill of battle all around me? Lady, you far overestimate your appeal.”

  Cassinda drew her hand back as if she was going to punch the singer, but the woman blocked it and her other hand gripped the redhead’s braid, yanking her face closer. It was similar to how she had held Crispin, except Cassinda looked like she was completely refreshed and ready to give her the fight of her life.

  The singer sneered. “Huh, how did the spirit of war end up in someone like you?”

  But Cassinda gave her an equally vicious smile, her teeth seeming to be somehow sharper than usual, the grin of a predator. “Oh, you don’t understand how perfect of a match we are.”

  And then she headbutted the singer.

  She stumbled back, tripping over her own stairs and landing on her back. Cassinda advanced, born forward on a wave of plants, but before she could land over the prostrate woman, the singer rolled off the dais, landing on her hands only to flip backwards and end up on her feet.

  Ah, right. Suddenly her fluid dance moves very much made sense. Cassinda closed on her once more, but she held up both of her own hands, and the advancing vessel bounced off some sort of shield.

  I’m almost there, Tayir said, his voice frantic over the rise of battle. Some of the sect were figuring out how to fight off the wild attack of the plants and were starting to close in on Ukrah and the unconscious Crispin.

  That was no good. And Cassinda was so caught up in the bloodlust of fighting a worthy opponent that it seemed unlikely she would be saving them anytime soon. Not unless Ukrah got her gag off and screamed for her.

  Or if Cassinda defeated the other vessel first.

  But that seemed unlikely. Every time a vine or vicious flowers with pointed teeth burst from the ground, the singer would either acrobat herself out of the way or use a shielding spell to block it. Ukrah could feel how powerful she was and that she wasn’t even being drained.

  Had they ever faced an enemy of that caliber? No, Ukrah didn’t think so, and when the woman lifted her hands so that several of the dead men scattered across the ground rose up to guard her, she switched right over to being certain of it.

  “She can raise the dead?!” she breathed. Or at least that was what she would have said if she wasn’t muzzled.

  Did… Peck. Peck. Peck. I swore I just felt the shepherd of death. But that isn’t possible. That’s the spirit of desire, ambition, and dreams you’re fighting. She’s greed and drive and resolve all wrapped up in one pretty package.

  Ukrah wanted to tell him that she had killed and absorbed one of the vessels, since apparently, he had arrived too late to hear that part, but her words stayed frustratingly trapped within her mouth. She needed to think of a way to circumvent the sigils, because they were proving to be far too great a threat.

  Almost there. Almost there.

  All around them more bodies began to rise, moving with a disjointed sort of cadence, as if someone was hauling them around like marionettes rather than actually being resurrected. That was when Ukrah understood that the singer wasn’t bringing people back to life, just using their bodies as mindless, soulless thralls.

  While most of them were crowding around Cassinda, trying to break through her barrage of living plants, several were heading straight for Ukrah and Crispin.

  She made more frantic sounds, trying to warn Tayir. She wished that Athar and Eist were there, with their incredible fighting skills and swords, but did they even know where they were? And for that matter, how had Cassinda known where they were? Had she just been called by the vessel’s song, or had they somehow tracked them down? Had Voirdr sensed where she was?

  It was hard to calm herself enough to reach out for him, to see if she could feel him searching for her, but all she felt was the burning sigil in her spine and how Tayir was steadily trying to peck out enough of it to release the bind.

  How had she survived ever being so weak? So disconnected from the burning swirls of energy all around her? No wonder so many young witches were dying before they could ever learn to defend themselves.

  I can hear them approaching. I’m trying, I’m trying. Curse this little beak! If I had my claws, or my several heads, I could just tear the skin from you!

  Ukrah never thought she would wish for someone to be able to rip her skin off more easily, but she closed her eyes and hoped for it fervently. Granted, hopes and dreams didn’t amount to much in such a situation.

  Three of the bodies were almost upon her, one raising its sword above her head. Ukrah couldn’t stay still any longer, lifting her hands and catching the downward blow on the chain between her wrists.

  Ow!

  It hurt, it rattled her and threw her off balance, but it stopped the blade from coming down on her head. Too bad that trick was probably only going to work once, because the other was raising their arm to attack as well.

  The blade flashed, this time coming straight toward her belly.

  I’ve got it! Is that enough? Is it!?

  Ukrah didn’t reply, of course. Her breath was ripped away as all of the magic that she had been calling for, been desperately reaching for, hit her at once, nearly overwhelming her with the power of it.

  But it did hit her, and finally, she could do something.

  She jerked her hands up, willing all the anger, all the helplessness she had felt, into her bonds, and they burst into ash. It was intoxicating, really, and she felt a giggle force its way up her throat only to get caught at the muzzle.

  Yeah, she was sick of that.

  She grabbed the blade heading toward her stomach, feeling it bite into her palm before her magic rushed up it, making it crack, then shatter into a fine layer of dust.

  Ukrah rose to her feet, ready to fight, but as she stepped forward to annihilate them, she was slammed into by a crushing force.

  The room flashed by and then she was slamming into a wall, the pain whiting out her thoughts for a moment, before she fell to the floor in a heap.

  At least she landed on top of someone.

  A groan sounded from below her, and Ukrah barely had the mind to roll off and to the side before a series of arrows buried themselves into the wall where she had just been.

  Scrambling to her feet, she realized it was Cassinda who had crashed into her, and she offered her hand to the girl. The redhead took it, spitting out the blood first, and then they were both on their feet and facing the singer.

  “Come now, do you have to make this difficult?” the woman asked. She made a sweeping motion, and Ukrah felt her ripple of magic flow over the room. But every time it touched one of the woman’s vines, the plant withered and died, wiping out their advantage. “We both want the same thing. We need the world to be healed. We need to protect everyone. We can’t let another Blight happen, or the Three. Too many have died, yes?”

  “If you really cared about our realm, you would stop trying to alter the natural ritual for your own benefit!”

  “Please, don’t lecture me when you don’t even know what the ritual is. You had the last two of the vessels in your presence and you had no idea! When I first saw you, I thought that maybe, maybe you were worthy of joining me, of sharing in the responsibility, but you have proved that you’re nothing. You’re worse than nothing. You’re wasting what’s been given to us!”

  She gestured forward again, and the thralls began a rush. Despite everything that she had been through, it was still quite intimidating to see a horde of dead, soulless bodies rushing toward them with weapons raised.

  Intimidating, but Ukrah was so tired of it.

  “Stop,” she ordered, mentally pulling at her magic with both hands and thrusting it outward. She could feel it hit the attackers like a wall, and they began to burst into little clouds of ash. It kept going until it hit the back wall, but she had forgotten something important.

  Not every witch hunter in the room had been dead.

&nbs
p; Her only warning was a battle-cry, and then a group of ten men were barreling through the ash beside her, weapons ready, and on the other side, even more were rushing Cassinda. Ukrah threw her arms up, trying to get a hold on her magic to send them flying back, but she had just used it and it was all still coming back to her.

  “Don’t worry, I have this,” Cassinda said, holding her hand out.

  Ukrah took it, and she could sense the power bubbling out of the young woman. A moment later, Cassinda was glowing so brightly that Ukrah had to shield her eyes. The next thing she knew, they were surrounded by a bubble of thick, thorny vines.

  The desert girl raised her eyebrows appreciatively and almost commented, before realizing she was still wearing the muzzle. With her free hand, she ripped it off her head and threw it against the wall where it caught on a thorn and then another, then was ripped to pieces by their writhing movement.

  Ukrah coughed, the sudden absence of the bit in her mouth and the leather over her lips shocking her. She knew there was drool going down her chin and that one of her lips was definitely split, but she didn’t care. It felt so good to be free of it that she would take all the spit and rush of air that she could get.

  “I bet that feels good,” Cassinda said, that wolfish grin back on her face. Her voice was different again, similar to when she had lost control in the woods before. “But watch this.”

  She flicked her hand and the vines all whipped out at once, gripping some of the men and slicing into others. It was pure devastation. Cries of pain and surprise sounded all around them, a hellish cacophony when backed with the singer’s warning shout.

  But Cassinda just laughed, caught up in the fervor of bloodlust, and Ukrah couldn’t help but wonder if they were actually on the side of good or not. After all, she reveled in repeatedly ending lives, and the young witch beside her was clearly caught up in the rush of pain and battle. Maybe the singer was right. Maybe the spirits being split as they were only brought chaos and danger.

  Wake up, young man! Come, isn’t it time for you to say something pithy while you do something impossibly lucky! Come on, come on!

  Her gaze drew to Crispin’s body, tucked safely against the dais, snapping plants all around him like guardians and a weeping willow sprouted straight through the stone platform, ripping it in two. Tayir was hopping all over his hair, pecking at his forehead and cheek to rouse him.

  Against her will, the image of the singer draining the life from him, of holding him like a lover while she took what she wanted, flashed through her head, and all her worries about being on the wrong side of things vanished.

  If she wanted to kill the people Ukrah loved, then she was going to have to kill Ukrah first.

  “You know, I’ve never fought one of us before. It’s amazing, isn’t it? You can feel my power and I can feel yours. But we’re divided, weakened. Imagine how many more we could save if we were one.”

  “Oh yeah?” Cassinda snarled, every bit of her propriety fallen to the wayside. “Then why don’t you come over here and let Ukrah absorb you? Give up your life, your hold on your power, for the greater good.”

  The singer just let out a demure sort of sound, taking a couple of graceful strides toward them. Even in the midst of battle, there was something enticing about her. It went beyond attraction, or the appeal that adults often shared in the night. There was a gravitas to her, the charisma of a leader but also the promises of happiness and gain and so many good things. Ukrah could see how she might have been able to convince whatever other vessel she had known to give in to her temptation.

  “That’s the thing, I just might have if I could trust any of you to be competent enough. But you’re all inept. This entire fight has proven as much. Two of you against just me, and you can’t even scratch me. One of you is basically dead on the floor. All it would take is one more little push and—”

  “Don’t touch him!” Ukrah heard herself scream, surprised by her voice as she let another wave of her power out.

  This time, it didn’t hit like a wall of ash. It didn’t burst or ripple. It lanced out like a bolt of lightning, crackling black and revolving spikes, aiming straight for the center of the woman.

  It was going to hit; she was sure of it. But just when it would have made contact, the woman jumped up, her body beginning to glow.

  “Enough of this playing. If you won’t see reason, won’t see the futility of this, then I’ll just have to show you.”

  Cassinda just cracked her knuckles, appearing for all the world like one of those cocky fighters in underground rings. “And here I thought you were trying to show us this whole time. Come on, love, try and teach me a lesson.”

  “As you wish.”

  This time, when the ground began to rumble, Ukrah didn’t think it was going to be a good thing.

  11

  Third Time’s the Charm

  All around them, what little floor that hadn’t already been busted up and burst through began to rattle and quake. Cassinda didn’t seem to care, her plants picking her up and carrying her over the bodies to fight the singer directly.

  But Ukrah cared. She could feel apprehension prickling up her spine, telling her to watch out. That something dangerous, lethal even, was coming.

  She knew better than to ignore herself.

  But for the first time since the battle had started, she wasn’t being attacked and she wasn’t bound. She took one last look to Cassinda and the singer again as they clashed, before running to Crispin.

  “Hey, hey, wake up. Please be breathing,” she heard herself beg as she reached his side, falling to her knees and hauling him into her lap. It was silly. She knew he was breathing, because she also knew she would be able to feel if he was dead. And yet the fear was still there anyways, coiled in her gut. “Crispin, can you hear me? You still in there?”

  She looked down in him in the scant light, most of the lanterns having been knocked down or over, the only illumination coming from wherever they had landed and whatever they had managed to set alight. But he looked less gray than before, a flush retuning to his cheeks and bruising growing more saturated where he had been struck.

  He didn’t answer her, but she was relieved nonetheless that he was in her arms. That he was breathing. She had lost so much… She wasn’t sure what she would do if she lost him too. He was her best friend, her partner in raising her dragon, but he was also more than that.

  He was almost a bit of a symbol. He was the first person she made friends with on this side of the border. He had saved her, and if it weren’t for him, she never would have made it into Eist’s home. Never would have learned what she was. Never would have saved Helena or Marcellin. Never would have even saved Eist when she was kidnapped, and never would have freed an entire stronghold of captured witches.

  He was the start of it all, and she didn’t know if she could keep going without him.

  It was a sweet bubble to be in for a moment, all the elation that he was alright, that there was still a chance of getting him out, but it quickly popped when all the rippling and bucking of the floor suddenly stopped.

  That couldn’t be good.

  And it wasn’t. A hand burst out of the ground a bit away from her, mottled with the slashes of Cassinda’s vines. And a few feet from that, another hand burst up—although there was barely any flesh clinging to the darkened, soil-stained bones.

  All around them, more and more body parts rose from the ground. The top of a skull there, an arm there, a shoulder, until what looked like an entire army was scrambling to their feet in jerking, unnatural movements.

  It was clear that it wasn’t just the witch hunters that Cassinda had dispatched in the early part of the fight. There were complete skeletons, as well as bodies that looked like they were only barely held together. It was a broad lesson in decomposition, and Ukrah couldn’t help but wonder how powerful the other vessel would have been if they hadn’t fallen into the singer’s clutches.

  “Crispin, I need you to wake up right no
w!”

  She could feel her power racing through her, trying to give her energy, but even with that, she wasn’t entirely sure she could carry the young man. He had grown so much since they were younger, over a head taller than her and broad, his body filling out with muscle. She could drag him a bit, or maybe use her magic, but she had the feeling she could end up accidentally impaling him on some sort of debris before she succeeded in whisking him to safety.

  The soldiers didn’t pay any mind to Cassinda or the singer, instead their heads seemed to turn at once, homing in on Ukrah and Crispin.

  Well, it seemed she was going to get to see just how much she could call on her magic after it was sealed off from her.

  She reached down inside of herself, trying to call on the bubbling magic, the anger. The need to protect. It was like when Voirdr was young all over again, slipping around her fingers and withering to somewhere inside of her.

  “I swear to the spirit inside of me, if you don’t buck up and help me get out of here then what’s the point of all of this!?”

  That was when Crispin’s eyes fluttered open, and his hand came up to weakly grip hers. “Today has been wild, hasn’t it?” he rasped, his gaze unfocused but that smile still there.

  “It has. And it might be ending in the next couple of moments.”

  “Nah, luck’s on our side, you’ll see.” He let his head drop back and alarm shot through her, but she realized that he was just taking an upside-down survey of the ghouls closing in on them. “Hold them off for a couple of minutes, okay?”

  She almost asked him why, or what he was planning, but she realized there was no time. She just needed to trust, although trusting another vessel hadn’t exactly worked out so well recently.

  Nodding, she set him back on the ground and stood. Looking around, she saw a fallen shortsword not too far away from her. She grabbed it, focusing her magic and trying to form a shield on her other arm.

  The two-handed sword and barrier style wasn’t her strongest style, but both Ale’a and Eist had made sure that she practiced it. She would have preferred to have a glaive or a staff, but she didn’t trust her magic to be able to take repeated blows like a staff would need to.