Duel With A Demoness (A Huntsman's Fate Book 2) Page 11

  Besmir wondered what it would do to someone to be surrounded by so much beauty but still be miserable.

  Then maybe this is another kind of Hell.

  Ranyor led him to the edge of a glade filled with a myriad of flowers. The scent of so many blooms perfumed the air sweetly and his friend bade him farewell as he pointed him in the direction he should go.

  “Don’t tell Keluse of me, please,” he asked. “It would only cause her pain to be reminded of me, but know I wait for the day we are reunited and can spend eternity in each other’s arms. Goodbye, Besmir,” Ranyor said as he faded from sight.

  Besmir swallowed and turned to look into the glade. Brightly lit and with a clear pond in the middle it was surrounded by a multitude of trees filled with birds and animals that peered at him as he entered. Taking his first steps into the glade felt strange to Besmir, as if he had entered yet another world. Quiet descended upon him, the sounds of nature fading from his ears as he walked.

  “Hello?” he called. “I’m here.”

  Turning in a slow circle Besmir scanned the whole glade for someone, anyone who might be here but could see no one else. The sensation of being watched hit him, though, and he turned to be overwhelmed by a presence. Besmir’s mind shied away from the entity that faded into view, exuding from the trees, grasses, flowers and animals that shared the glade until it stood before him.

  Antlers graced a head that was part deer and part fox. Reptilian eyes peered at Besmir in curiosity at the same time as the figure’s nose twitched like a rabbit. Clothed in living ferns and grasses it floated towards Besmir over the surface of the pond. When Besmir looked, however, the creature’s feet appeared to be part of the pond. The crystal clear waters becoming the soles of the hooves it had for feet.

  Odd though the being looked, it was his presence that affected Besmir most. An overwhelming aura that pressed against his conscious mind with unrelenting force. Although similar in physical size to Besmir himself the being radiated an immensity that was impossible to withstand. A timeless being older than the world, it seemed to Besmir and he fell to his knees before the God of Afterlife, sobbing at his presence.

  “Hello, Besmir,” Cathantor said in a conversational tone of voice.

  His voice was that of multitudes, similar to Porantillia, but Cathantor’s dripped with kindness and love whereas hers had sounded like a nation in torment. If Cathantor was a choir, Porantillia was its damned opposite.

  Besmir looked up from where he groveled, seeing the smile that had crossed Cathantor’s face. Each element that made up the God was separate, distinguishable as an individual animal, yet they all flowed into one perfect being that radiated love and acceptance.

  “You can get up, you know,” Cathantor said in an amused voice.

  Shaking and weak, Besmir rose but could not look into the God’s eyes so kept his gaze averted.

  “Well, this is an odd turn of events isn’t it?” Cathantor asked. “I don’t expect you quite understand why I’ve brought you here, do you?”

  “You talk like me,” Besmir blurted the first thing that came into his head.

  Cathantor laughed, the sound like a healing light in Besmir’s soul and even he smiled.

  “I’m everything to everyone, Besmir. Of course I talk like you.”

  Cathantor gestured with his oddly human hands and the pair started to walk. Besmir looked down to see the plants and flowers leaned towards Cathantor as he passed, birds and animals paid their respects to him with little touches and small noises that Besmir assumed he understood.

  “I have a favor I need to ask,” Cathantor stated in the voice of millions.

  Besmir chilled with shocked awe as the God’s words hit him.

  Cathantor wants a favor...from me?

  The God of Afterlife stopped and turned to Besmir, forcing the man to look into his timeless eyes. Besmir felt dizzy, buoyant and faint simultaneously but managed to concentrate as Cathantor reached out and grasped his shoulders.

  “It’s not going to be easy,” he added, “but I need you to abandon your search for a way to get to Porantillia,” he said.

  Besmir saw that Cathantor had the forked tongue of a snake as he spoke.

  “Joranas...” Besmir muttered, the force of Cathantor’s will making him drowsy and compliant.

  “He’ll be fine,” the God assured. “I’ll take care of your son here.”

  Yes. That would be nice. Joranas would like it here.

  Even as the thoughts flowed through Besmir’s mind another part of him was screaming that this was wrong. Something was utterly, completely wrong with the whole situation but he could not understand what it was.

  “Wait...” Besmir said, shaking his head.

  Cathantor released him and turned toward the ocean they were abruptly at the edge of. Blue-green and topped with white crowns of foam, waves broke gently on the shore at Besmir's feet.

  Something else started forward. Another presence that Besmir found pressing on his consciousness, unrelenting and vast. She came from the waves, was formed of the waves but was covered in scales, with fins and the smooth skin of a dolphin for a face. Tentacles flowed from her sides, beckoning Besmir toward her.

  “I must also ask you abandon your quest, Besmir,” Sharise said.

  The siren song of her voice filled his soul with light and happiness to such a degree there was nothing Besmir would not do for her. If Sharise were to ask him to cut out his own eyes in that voice, he would do so.

  Besmir smiled at the obviously feminine form of Sharise and nodded.

  Of course. I’ll return to Gazluth and continue to lead there. I’ll forget all about my son…

  Besmir’s thoughts trailed off in confusion. What were they asking him to do? Abandon his son to die at the hands of Porantillia?

  “Never!” he declared. “Leaving Joranas to his own fate is something I won’t do.”

  The siren song of Sharise fell from his ears and he heard her true voice as she thundered her words at him, making him cower.

  “Petty mortal, you are vain indeed. It is our will you shall not seek out Porantillia, for her freedom would signal the end of all things and this we forbid!”

  Besmir cowered on the wet sand as Sharise blasted him with the immense power of her voice. Each word felt like a blow to his chest, the way he could feel the drumbeats of his soldiers on parade reverberating in his lungs.

  “Leave this place,” she continued. “Return to your throne and forget the name of Porantillia for all time.”

  Sharise pinned Besmir to the sand with her massive eyes, twin orbs the size of plates borrowed from some deep sea creature his mind shied from. After a few minutes she slowly slid back into the ocean, becoming one with the water and disappearing completely.

  “Bit intense isn’t she?” Cathantor asked. “But I had to get her to speak to you because I’m not so good at the intimidation side of things.” The strange looking God of afterlife took a bright red shell from the surf and pressed in into Besmir’s hand. “Sleep now,” he said gently, “and know I love you.”

  Besmir felt his eyes closing as one of the waves washed over his body. Tiredness he could not battle drew him down into a dreamless sleep and paradise faded into darkness around him.

  A deep growling gurgle brought him from the deepest sleep he had felt for ages. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, confused as to where he had woken. Sunlight burned the dark city without and the growl came again.

  Joranas stood and walked across to the door, peering out with a squint at the three massive cat-like creatures that were advancing on Whint. Each one was about the size of a horse, thickly muscled beneath shining coats of dun colored fur and sported fangs as long as his index finger.

  Joranas had seen a picture his father had of a Crallcat, a beautiful but vicious animal from Besmir’s first homeland. These things were like massive versions of that and looked intent on feasting on Whint for breakfast.

  Fear clamped bands of ice around Joranas’ hear
t as he watched the lead cat crouch in readiness to pounce. Her muscles tensed and quivered as her narrow eyes focused on the dark skinned man who faced the three.

  Whint himself seemed oblivious to any danger as he examined the massive creatures that were just about to kill him.

  If they kill him, I’ll be here on my own.

  Joranas’ fright grew at the thought of being stranded here alone and he tried to call a warning to the man who had been his only companion for weeks.

  “Whint!” his squeaked whisper faded on the breeze. “Whint!” he managed a little louder this time.

  Whint’s attention was squarely focused on the animals that stalked him, however, and the young prince got no response at all. Joranas swallowed as he saw the lead beast feint at Whint, one huge, two toed paw lashing at his face. Whint made no move at all and Joranas watched the creature as confusion washed over its face, comical at any other time, frightening now. Indecision plagued the lead creature as it stared at Whint grumbling deep in its throat. Finally realizing there were three large creatures facing one small one the animal issued a bellowing roar and leaped at Whint.

  Panic grabbed Joranas and before he knew what he was doing he had stepped outside and was running towards Whint who seemed perfectly happy to be in the jaws of a large cat. Joranas threw his arms out at the two large cats that turned towards him, teeth bared. Flames lanced from his hands, searing and burning the creatures and sending them running as their coats singed. Foul smelling smoke filled the little courtyard outside their home, the stench of burning hair and meat.

  Joranas watched as the first creature mauled Whint, tossing him around with ease. He could not use his magic on the animal for fear of hitting Whint as well but if he could just get the creature’s attention, he could draw it far enough away from his friend to burn it.

  Joranas screamed wordlessly at the thing as it pinned Whint down with one paw, bringing the other up to strike. Helpless, Joranas could only watch as Whint grabbed at the powerful leg that held him.

  Something changed then. One moment Whint was pinned beneath the large cat’s paw, waiting for its death blow. The next he had twisted the leg, bringing a hissing scream from the cat as fur and muscle ripped. A river of hot blood sprung from the wound and Whint stood, apparently unharmed to face the, now limping, creature.

  Nothing in its nature had prepared the cat for this eventuality and Joranas could see it had no intention of leaving. A fact that was proven when the thing attacked Whint again. This time the strange speaking man grabbed the cat’s jaws as it bit at him. It flinched back, trying to shake him from its face but Whint held on grimly, his fingers digging into the cat’s skin and even loosening one of its teeth.

  Joranas watched in horrified awe as Whint forced the cat’s jaws apart, levering them open further until the animal started to scream in pain. Even then Whint did not release the animal and with a sickening crunch Joranas watched the cat’s lower jaw snap loose to hang at an odd angle.

  Mewling in pain and fear the cat tried to run but Whint still held its face in his hands and hung on grimly as it shook him violently. When the animal paused to consider what to do, Whint vaulted onto its back, wrapping his arms about its throat and squeezing.

  The cat dropped, rolling to try and dislodge the meal that was now about to kill it but Whint gripped it ever tighter with grim determination and Joranas saw more panic in the cat’s eyes as it stood, collapsed and stood again. The second time it hit the ground it did not try and rise again, the light fading from its eyes as Whint cut it’s air supply off. Eventually the massive cat gave a violent tremble as it died and Whint released his grip.

  Joranas sprinted across, scared of the injuries Whint must have but needing to help if he could. His eyes roved over Whint’s dark skin, the sunlight reflecting from it in blonde flashes as he moved.

  Not a mark showed.

  “Whint!” Joranas cried. “Are you hurt?”

  “Are you hurt?” Whint asked as he stared at the immense carcass.

  He looked at Joranas with almost sad eyes then gently lifted the boy’s fingers, examining his hands.

  “Fire,” he said.

  “I’m fine, Whint,” Joranas assured him. “Are you?”

  “I’m fine,” Whint echoed.

  It looked to Joranas as if he was unharmed. Somehow nothing the cat had done had harmed the odd man in any way but rather than being relieved Joranas felt nervous.

  How can he not have any injuries? Not even a scratch?

  “I wonder what they were?” Joranas asked as he looked at the mutilated carcass.

  “Daasnu,” Whint said after staring into the distance for a second.

  Joranas had seen this before. It was as if Whint could get the information he needed. As if someone or something spoke inside his mind, telling him just enough to keep them both alive.

  “I’ve never heard of that,” Joranas said.

  “I’ve never heard of that,” Whint echoed.

  Joranas looked at the dislocated jaw the daasnu had suffered. How much strength must it have taken to do that kind of damage? Joranas remembered a dog he and Ranyeen had befriended in Morantine. A mangy, rough street mutt they had both fallen in love with. Even when it was just playing, there was no way either he or Ranyeen had been able to pry its jaws open. Once it had a grip on a piece of old rope or cloth that had been it. This daasnu was the size of a horse with teeth the size of his fingers, it should have been able to bite Whint in half but somehow he had managed to dislocate the creature’s jaw.

  Joranas had known Whint was strange before but had put it down to desert heat or some kind of accident. Looking at the damage done to the massive cat and seeing as how Whint was unscathed in any way the young prince realized Whint was far more strange than he first thought.

  He’s not human!

  Chapter Eleven

  Collise was bigger than the other girls her age. At twelve she was taller, stockier and more mature than any of her peers. It was a confusing time for her as at one point she wanted to play with her dolls but in the next, her mind wandered to thoughts of Zanard, the blacksmith’s apprentice. His hands. His lips.

  Collise had not had an easy life. Her mother was a bitter woman, prone to savage attacks and fits of rage she inevitably took out on Collise. Her mother loved her, Collise knew, just not enough to stop hitting her. Poverty meant her mother had been forced to take handouts from the king and she hated that. A weekly allowance of grain, oats and honey along with some fruit was all they had sometimes.

  “His horses eat better,” her mother had spat bitterly on several occasions.

  As she had always been a little different, Collise had also borne the brunt of some of the local bullies attention so spent much of her time alone, as today. She watched the play of sunlight on the river that flowed through the middle of Morantine on its way to wherever and wondered what life was like where the water ended up. Were there Goblins there? Dragons or princes that could take a young girl like her to places she had only ever heard of in stories?

  So lost in her thoughts and fantasies as she squatted by the water, Collise did not hear the approaching footsteps until it was too late. The hands that shoved her were rough and strong and the chilly bite of the filthy water felt like knives to her skin as she hit the river.

  Spluttering river water and other, more solid, items, Collise stood in the waist deep water, soaked through. Goosebumps broke out over her skin and she started to shiver at the same time as the stench of sewage hit her nose.

  Tears of frustration and anger rolled down her face as she started to wade through the filthy water towards the laughing faces that had caused this. Three boys, just older than her, pointed and nudged each other as they laughed. Collise reached the bank where they confronted her as she tried to climb out.

  “Get back in!” One of them cried, grinning. “Float out to sea with the rest of the filth.”

  Collise folded her arms and stared at them, all three were dressed in bett
er clothing than she had ever had access to and must come from one of the merchant houses around here. The oldest had stopped laughing and was staring at her chest intently. Collise looked down to see the effect the chilly water had had on her body and that it had plastered her cheap dress to every curve and bump. She felt utterly naked.

  “Well now, what have we here lads?” The oldest asked in a mocking voice. “You two should be kinder to a young lady.” He held his hand out to Collise. “Come, let me help you,” he said.

  Collise looked at him, trying to determine if he was going to help or shove her back into the filthy river. He smiled and she reached her hand out, hoping he had come along after the other two had pushed her in. His fingers were warm and strong as he pulled her up onto the bank and guided her gently to the top.

  “You boys need to learn the value of a lady,” he said, glancing at their grinning faces. “Now, my lady, how are you going to pay for my help?” He asked.

  “What?” Collise asked in confusion. “I don’t have money. I can’t pay you.”

  The older boy grinned a nasty grin as he looked her up and down.

  “You have some way to pay me, right?” He asked in a dark voice.

  Without warning the boy shoved Collise between two buildings and she fell backwards, hitting the ground hard. Leering down at her scared face he started to open his trews, displaying himself to her.

  Disgust and fear roiled inside Collise but something else started to stir within her as well. A hot, tight feeling that threatened to burst her ribs and explode from inside her. A deep moan tore from her and he laughed.

  “See lads? She can’t wait for me to...”

  His words ended in a scream as a gout of fire exploded from Collise’s outstretched hand, engulfing him in flame. The youth windmilled his arms, still screaming as he tried to run from the fire that seared his flesh.

  Collise stood up, her lips peeled back from her teeth as she casually set the other two boys alight, too. She looked at her untouched hand as all three threw themselves into the dirty river in an attempt to douse the flames.