chapter fifteen
Dark Night
Deetra shrugged Butch’s hand away. The rain hid her tears but her voice couldn't.
“No. She can't be.”
Butch squeezed Deetra’s shoulder. “Nothing burns for a quarter hour and lives. They’re coming. We have to go. Now.”
Deetra looked back toward the arena. The rain came down hard, obscuring it in the mists. She squinted as the drops fell from her lashes. Minotaurs - dozens of them - marched down the road in the distance. Their cloven feet, ill-suited to the combination of rain and cobblestones, made it too dangerous to run.
When she looked back down, Ayla’s lips had parted. The sky lit up with lightning. Deetra didn't dare to hope. Even if Ayla somehow had lived, no one could heal her. Deetra was no Priestess.
Thunder rolled in, building until it culminated in a boom that rattled the roofs and glass of the nearby buildings. Deetra pointed to her medallion on the ground next to Dylan’s corpse. Butch retrieved it, on the precipice of falling over as he bent to get it.
Deetra put her ear to Ayla’s mouth, staring at her chest, willing it to rise. Butch dangled the medallion at the edge of her vision. Deetra took it from him and wrapped the chain around her hand, eyes still on Ayla’s chest. The wind shifted and drove the rain in her face.
Butch spoke from above. “I’ll bring her. Let’s go.”
Deetra placed a hand on Ayla’s chest. Soggy pieces of blackened flesh smeared away like mucus, revealing bloody, burned muscle.
The minotaurs drew close enough that the sound of their hooves rose over the driving rain. The wind gusted and the temple door shifted into the road. Deetra slid her arms under Ayla’s back and knees and lifted. With so much burned, she weighed almost nothing.
Deetra motioned with her head for Butch to precede her into the temple. “Get the altar. Stand it back up.”
Butch shook his head, his expression weary and doubtful, but ran with a heavy limp into the temple. Deetra stepped over the threshold with Ayla in her arms. Rain pattered against the remaining stained glass window. Water ran down the picture of the woman on her knees, head bowed.
Butch strained and then roared as he lifted the solid stone table back to a standing position, away from the trapdoor. Deetra walked around the debris and glass on the floor. She laid Ayla down on the stone with her feet hanging off the edge.
Deetra knelt down before the altar, mirroring the image in the stained glass. Ayla’s arm slid off and dangled in front of Deetra’s eyes, black skin, exposed muscle, and broken bones. Deetra held it with her own broken hand.
The words came to her.
“Mother, bringer of rest and succor, your daughter is in need, and begs, humbly, for you to heal Ayla.”
She waited but nothing happened. Ayla’s hand still had the same sickening feel. Deetra kept her head bowed and surrendered to the sobs. Tears came in a flood as the rain outside beat upon the glass.
“Please,” she said, shaking her head. “I don't know what to do without her.”
Deetra still held the ouroboros medallion in her other hand. She lifted it, looking for help, a sign - anything. Ayla told Butch, and Butch told Deetra, that the medallion served as a symbol only, it provided no healing or protection itself.
The serpent ate its tail in a loop. It represented life and death - birth from decay - like planting a tree upon a grave. The medallion symbolized the truth of life; nothing existed without sacrifice. Ayla’s finger twitched in her hand.
Deetra lifted her head and loosened her grip. Her lips had parted like before. Hocks clacked on wet stone out in the rain. The wind gusted, throwing the other temple door off its hinges and it clapped into the street.
Deetra put her ear to Ayla’s lips in the dim light of the temple windows. Breath tickled her ear. She stood straight up.
“She’s alive.”
Butch leaned over Ayla’s body in disbelief. “Can you heal her?”
Deetra handed Butch the ouroboros. “Yes.”
Butch cocked his head to the side, listening to the sound of the advancing enemy. “Then do it, or I'm dragging you into the canal by your ear. They’ll be here any minute.”
Deetra knew what she needed to do. “Butch, would you kill for Ayla?”
He folded his olive green arms, streaked in blood. “Is that a real question?”
Deetra laughed. A strange acceptance had overcome her. Ayla would live. The Goddess had a plan all along. She met Butch’s eyes, her own pleading with him.
“Would you kill me, for Ayla?”
Butch’s brow lowered. “I would gut you like a carp.”
Deetra liked Butch. His harsh and violent nature did not preclude him from having a soft heart. He had a pair of short swords he took from the Furless, one on each hip. Deetra drew one and held it out, cradled in her hands. Butch took it with a solemn air.
"Are you sure?"
Deetra nodded as she knelt down facing the altar. In fact, she had no idea if it would work. But she was willing to give her life, just for the chance.
Butch took a deep breath behind her.
Deetra lifted one finger. “Wait, until I finish the prayer.”
Butch cleared his throat. “Oh. Sorry.”
She took Ayla’s hand once more, and recited the prayer. Ayla’s finger moved again, still hanging on.
“… and begs, humbly, to give my life for Ayla.”
Deetra took a breath and held it, waiting for the blade. Lightning flashed in the windows as the rain came down outside in sheets. Butch grunted with effort. Her heart leapt into her throat.
No regrets.
The blade pricked the back of her neck, a pinch - nothing more. Minotaur voices came through the door from the road. The adrenaline in Deetra’s veins ran cold. Butch had lost his nerve.
Perfume, bold but not offensive, suffused the air around her. Thunder crackled and boomed. She looked up from her knees. A woman stood behind the altar, her hand on Butch’s wrist.
Her eyes caught Deetra’s notice first, ice blue, like winter - identical to Ayla’s. Her bangs rested on her brow, with long, onyx hair on the sides. The Goddess incarnate.
The Goddess lifted her hand and the ruined doors of the temple flew to their proper places, slamming shut. She could pass for Ayla, fifteen years older, but the woman’s flawless skin was ageless - like a living statue. The Goddess pushed Butch’s hand to the side. He let the sword drop to the floor.
Deetra didn't know how to react, so she remained kneeling before the altar, speechless.
The Goddess held out her hands and looked down at Deetra. She put her hands in the Goddess’. The idea to consider it first never occurred to her. Obedience came on instinct, as if her body or her soul understood something she didn’t.
The Goddess laid Deetra’s palms on Ayla. She rested one over the heart and the other over the dip where Ayla’s belly button once resided. The wintery eyes of the Goddess met Deetra’s and she looked into the white-blue Abyss of the Goddess’ soul.
The Goddess spoke, her voice vibrating the air in the temple. “You offer your life for my Daughter?”
The compassion in the woman’s voice reminded Deetra of her mother, a memory she buried in the dark recesses of her heart. Everything about Ayla’s transformation made sense in that instant.
Far away, in a place that no longer mattered, the half-beasts battered the doors.
“Every breath.”
The Goddess held out a hand to Butch. “A sword.”
A green hand placed the other sword from his belt into the Goddess’ waiting hands, held the same way Deetra had, cradled. The Goddess switched her hold to one hand and lifted Deetra’s chin high with the tip.
“I accept your sacrifice.”
Deetra closed her eyes, waiting for the cut. The Goddess had come in the flesh to accept Deetra’s soul. Deetra never imagined such an honorable and auspicious death. She welcomed it.
The blade touched her right shoul
der, and the Goddess spoke again. “Do you, Deetra, swear to live only for Ayla, Priestess of the Night Goddess, and die to protect her?”
“I do.”
The blade lifted and settled on her left shoulder.
“Do you, Deetra, surrender your soul in death, to the Abyss, and the will of your Goddess?”
A chill ran up Deetra’s spine. With her next words, her soul no longer belonged to her. Death might be better.
Hocks clacked on stone and both flimsy, burned doors rattled. The power of the Goddess made them strong, however, and they did not falter.
“I do.”
Behind Deetra, Butch gasped and she peeked at Ayla through one eye. Light, the color of cornflowers, seeped from her palms and spread over Ayla’s charred body like oil. The black chips of skin and cloth dried, cracked, and turned to dust as the light passed under it. Grey powder cascaded down to the altar, unveiling fresh pink skin, and black scales.
The black scales formed a shirt, and leggings of scalemail armor, identical to the one the Goddess wore. The light reset her fingers with a pair of pops and travelled up Deetra’s arms, soothing her wounds. In its wake, interlocking red metal plates shone like steel rubies.
The Goddess lips turned up into a proud smile. “Rise, Lady Deetra.”
Deetra stood, her back straight and chin high. The armor moved with her like a second skin. The torrent of rain on the roof, window, and the wood floor inside, muted the sounds of the enemy at their door.
The Goddess leaned over, pursed her lips, and with a soft breath blew the ashes from Ayla’s face. The melted clumps of Ayla’s hair untangled and rolled out to its full length, as it was before Goreskin cut it. The sections wound themselves together in a single onyx braid, just like she used to wear. It hung over the side of the altar.
Ayla’s eyes opened, like the reflection of the moon on ice. She sat up between Deetra and the Goddess, her expression distant. The rain pounded on the roof above in sheets like waves. Outside, a cursed half-beast shouted above the howl of the storm.
"Get that door down, now!"
The Goddess stroked Ayla's hair and Ayla looked at Deetra, then over her shoulder to Butch.
“Do you, Ayla, accept your lady knight’s vow and swear to never bring her dishonor?”
Ayla beamed at Deetra. “I do,” she said, and then threw her arms around Deetra’s armored neck.
Deetra held her, fulfilling her own wish she made above Ayla’s charred body. She traced her fingers down Ayla's braid.
"It's beautiful," Deetra said and a swell of passion rose in her belly.
Butch cleared his throat, and Ayla's chin lifted from Deetra's shoulder. He spoke as Deetra held on, the aroma of Ayla's skin comforting her.
Butch harrumphed. "You are not allowed to do that again."
Deetra laughed and released Ayla as the renewed Priestess climbed down from the altar. She turned to her mother first, her expression serious.
“Mother -”
The Goddess answered her question before she finished it. "Yes, my child, you still carry a calf. It too, was saved."
Ayla's smile faltered and Deetra's heart sank. The roof creaked in the wind and the rain soaked the floor of the temple through the open window. The Goddess placed a hand on each of their shoulders.
"Your sacrifice has not only inspired your people, but the Gods themselves," she said, and thunder shook the walls.
Butch spoke, his voice soft with reverence. He turned his face to the rafters. “The Goddess of Storms.”
Ayla’s Goddess nodded once at him. “Indeed. The God of Toil has upset the balance for too long. The Tempest, and many others, rally to our side.”
Ayla glanced over at the medallion on the wet floor, with the image of the sun. “What about the Guardians of Light?”
“The Guardians of Light’s own treachery has revealed them to the other Gods. Kill Tor, and they are no more.” The Goddess said, and flicked her wrists at the doors. They flew open and the Tempest’s winds took them clattering down the road. The wind howled through the temple.
Butch raised his voice over the wind. “Tor’s immortal. How do I slay him?”
The Goddess’ voice carried without the need to raise it. “You cannot. Your Priestess shall counsel you. Go now, your people need you.”
All three of them turned. The minotaurs out front no longer battled the door. Embroiled in combat with the people of the arena, they didn't even notice the doors had opened. The haze of rain limited visibility beyond a few yards. In front of the entrance, three men held one of the half-beasts at bay with the end of their spears.
Deetra turned back to the Goddess but she was gone.
Butch picked up his sword from the altar, a visored helm rested next to it, shining red. The back of it swooped out to a tail, like the rear end of a duck. He handed it to Deetra. She lifted the visor and swept her short brown hair from her brow as she donned it. The padded inside fit snug, but comfortable.
Ayla beckoned Butch with a curled finger to lean over. He bent down and she kissed him on the cheek. He smiled a big, toothy orc grin, as his wounds knitted themselves back together. He raised his brow at her, his amber eyes eager for battle.
“Ready, Priestess?”
She laid a hand on his chest and smeared the blood on his jerkin, drawing a circle. “The Goddess blesses you with strength.”
His veins bulged and he breathed deep, puffing his chest out. He picked up the other sword and handed it to Deetra. “Time to try out that fancy armor,” he replied, lifting his thick, orcish chin toward the door. “Let’s go cow tipping.”
Ayla kissed her knight on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered and held Lady Deetra’s armored hand.
Outside, two more minotaurs had joined the first one. One man lay dead in front of the pile of wood, his polearm on the ground next to him. Only two men remained and they fell back toward the extinguished pyre.
One minotaur lowered his head and charged. His cloven hoof slipped as he took his first step and he went down on his stomach in the wet street.
Thunder boomed as Butch ran out the temple doors to take up the attack on the beast's flank. He did not hear or see the orc until it was too late. Butch plunged his sword into the fallen beast’s neck and shouted.“Deetra, grab that glaive!”
Deetra ran for the door and discarded her blade in the street. Ayla followed the knight out as the other two minotaurs in armor fell back, away from the pyre.
The torrential downpour turned the main road into an ankle-deep river. Hundreds of men filled the street - from the rain obscured arena to the temple. Her people had taken up the fight, leaderless, but with a unanimous conviction. Ayla stood at the rear of the formation, her back to the still smoldering stake.
The wind stripped roofs and threw debris into the street as Butch shouted orders. He assembled the two men in front of her. “Make a line!”
Lady Deetra picked up a weapon from the ground, a polearm with a blade affixed at the end of its eight-foot length. “Go for the legs! Advance together!”
Rain rolling down her ruby armor, the knight took her place with the two men beside Butch. Ayla watched from behind the line as they advanced toward the two remaining minotaurs. One of the beasts wielded a mace and had gold rings on his horns, the other carried a serrated sword and wore a steel ring in his nose.
The minotaur with the gold-ranked horns attacked Butch with the mace. The orc parried with his sword but the other beast used the moment to swing its long serrated blade. It sliced into Butch’s collar and shoulder. He roared in pain.
Deetra lunged with her glaive and sliced into the gold-ranked beast’s thigh. The other two men stabbed with their spears at the beast with the pierced nose. He blocked one with his serrated blade and the other spear scratched his furry calf.
Ayla lifted her voice above the storm and clash of battle. “Butch, fall back!”
The orc kicked the high ranking minotaur holding the mace in the ank
le. The blade of Deetra’s glaive cut across its face. It went down on its back with a splash. Butch took a step back, still facing away from Ayla. His knees buckled but he remained on his feet. Blood coursed down to his leg. He needed her, now.
One of the men speared the downed beast, scoring only a minor wound under the shoulder. The minotaur grabbed the haft of the weapon and pulled him forward. A kick sent the man sprawling back toward Ayla as the beast climbed back to his feet. The minotaur with the nose ring plunged his sword into the remaining man in the formation. He fell to the ground, dead.
Ayla’s feet splashed in the road as she ran the few steps up to Butch, every part of her soaked to the bone. With the smell of doused firewood in the air, the cold wet of the world around her soothed the memory of the flames. Ayla shook away the image and recited the prayer as she came up to him. The rain provided the water for the cure as she touched Butch’s back. The wound on his collar closed.
One of the men on the ground coughed and she rushed over to him. He hacked up blood and held out a pleading hand, ribs crushed by a hock. Her thumb pressed to his forehead, she whispered the words again. A minotaur bellowed and Ayla looked up.
The gold-ranked minotaur swung his mace down at Lady Deetra with the power to crush her bones to dust. She held up her glaive with both hands and blocked. The wood cracked, but didn’t break. Ayla cringed as the force of the shot knocked the knight to her armored rear.
The minotaur with the nose ring swung his sword as she landed. She laid flat and the blade passed over her head. The minotaur followed through and arced the serrated blade back up over his horned head.
The orc screamed a battle cry and hurled his sword end over end. The pommel struck the minotaur in the face, square in the nose ring. Its horned head snapped back.
Lady Deetra stabbed up from her prone position with the glaive. The blade sank into the minotaur’s belly and his sword clattered to the ground. She yanked out her weapon and rolled to the side as the half-beast fell. She pushed herself back to her feet.
Butch swung his sword at the throat of the remaining minotaur while Lady Deetra swiped at its knee. The creature tossed its head to the side, parrying Butch with its horn, then countered with a swing that collided with Deetra’s helm.
The impact made Ayla wince. The armor didn't dent or scratch, but Deetra collapsed onto her back, motionless. Ayla ran up to the line. Lightning flashed followed by a blast of thunder that rippled the water as Ayla dropped to her knees in the swift moving stream in the street. She opened the visor. Deetra’s eye ung from the socket.
Ayla held her breath as she touched her knight’s cheek and the cornflower light spread, repairing the injury to her eye. Lady Deetra revived, blinking away the drops that found their way into her helm.
“Ow.”
Ayla kissed her on the nose, grateful the shot hadn't killed her. “Get up, milady.”
The knight rose to her feet. Ayla picked up the glaive and handed it to her. Deetra slapped the visor down and rushed forward. The beast had lost its mace and had Butch in a choke, using him as a shield.
Even with the strength blessing, Butch could not outmatch the half-beast in raw power. Deetra stopped next to the remaining man from the arena. They jabbed and feinted and the minotaur turned Butch this way and that, fending them off. The orc clawed at the beast’s arm, trying to get a hold.
Ayla recited the prayer, tongue flying through the words. Finished, her next words echoed from the Abyss. “Let him go.”
The minotaur released Butch and turned to run. The man with the healed ribs picked up his spear from the ground and hurled it at the beast. The spear tore into the minotaur’s side and it stumbled sideways, hocks slipping on the slick road.
Butch grabbed the haft of the spear and drove it deeper. The minotaur twisted with a high-pitched bellow. Butch roared and twisted the spear, as Deetra stepped over and hacked the beast’s head off with her glaive. Blood splashed and mixed with rain as it fell, a drop landing on Ayla’s cheek several yards away. She wiped it with her palm, though the rain had already washed it away.
Cheers carried over the storm from down the road. Ayla made a visor with her hand as the raucous celebration spread from the arena. Butch and Lady Deetra searched for their next opponent, but there were none to be found.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle, increasing visibility. Ayla scanned the road. Everywhere, men from the arena hoisted their weapons into the air, whooping and hollering. Not one beast remained standing.
Ayla turned to face the main gate, away from the arena. The time for celebration had not yet come. Both Dylan and the Goddess told her that Tor, the Goddess’ immortal son, was on his way to Hornstall. She could only assume he led an army to quell the rebellion. The storm may have slowed them, but they needed to prepare.
Dylan said that the minotaurs of Hornstall wanted Ayla dead before Tor arrived. They put her to the flame only hours after she made the trade for Deetra. That put Tor’s arrival sometime in the next couple of days.
Lady Deetra and Butch came up on either side of her, both out of breath. The knight lifted her visor. Butch folded his arms, eyes on the inner keep wall.
“There will still be guards in the gate houses.” He said and hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll put a group together to take them.”
Ayla nodded, still deep in thought. The cheers of the men from the arena drew closer, echoing off the inner walls of the keep. She turned her face to the grey sky above. “Tor is coming. It won't be long before the main army arrives.”
Butch grunted. “And there’s the second half of the garrison to worry about. I’ll see about the wall defenses. I don't think any of the catapults or pitch vats have been used in centuries.”
Deetra nodded. “We have more men out there. The Hillside tradesmen, and the second division that went to Moonvale. We have to get them back here before then.”
Ayla never heard about a second division sent to Moonvale or survivors from Hillside. Dylan had told her their people had all died. But then, he also told her the other half of the garrison had returned when it didn't.
“Survivors? I was told that Hillside was razed.”
The first few men of the advancing crowd arrived, chanting, “Long live the Freemen.” Butch stopped and turned back to talk to them. Deetra looked over her shoulder, then back to Ayla.
“It was, by Alex, but we got almost everyone out. At least forty of our men escaped on the river and we sent another thirty armed and fifty unarmed to Moonvale.”
“Alex razed Hillside? How?”
Deetra gave her a wan smile. “Moonshine and a torch.”
Butch returned. He clapped his thick, green hands together with a grin. “We already have the gate houses, too. Hornstall is ours.”
Ayla nodded. “The only thing to do now is prepare the defense for when Tor arrives.”
Deetra added: “And send some riders to Moonvale and Hillside to find out what happened to the rest of our men.”