Chapter 14
The tree cover in this part of the Godswood is sparse and the unrelenting sun has me regretting the layers I chose to wear this morning. I stash my brown cloak and gloves in my saddlebag when we stop before quickly emptying my canteen, the cool water doing little to calm the heat within me.
My magic has been restless all morning, something about being in the presence of another magic wielder, even one that has yet to admit his powers, amplifies it beyond its normal annoyance. Gods help us if this is how it’s going to behave all the way to Amale.
Cal’s black hair sticks to his sweat-soaked forehead as he drains the last dregs of his own canteen before reaching for mine.
“I’m going to refill these and then we can get back on the road.” The captain looks almost worried as he does a visual sweep of the area. “Stretch your legs but don’t wander far. I have an uneasy feeling.”
“In that case, I better take this,” I say, pulling the broadsword from its holster tied to my horse’s saddle. “You know, in case all my other blades aren’t enough.”
“Yeah, yeah, the princess who doesn’t need protection,” he jokes as he walks away. “I got it."
When Cal disappears from the clearing, I let my eager magic guide me off the path.
Thorny vines that snake from under the thick trees reignite memories of my nightmares drowning in a bottomless abyss.
I’ve had plenty of ominous dreams, visions filled with dread and doom, but never one that felt like my body was being physically cleaved into two.
Now that I know who he is, now that I’ve said his name, everything feels more real.
Cal thinks I’m in denial. Henry thinks I can’t accept what the gods have written. They’re both wrong. I know inevitability when it stares me in the face.
Like the wind whooshing through an open window to extinguish a flame, my once fiery magic stills without explanation. I call out to it, but it doesn’t answer. Sweat beads down my spine as an utterly powerless feeling kicks my pulse into a frantic pace.
My hand reaches for the hilt of my broadsword as the distinctive snapping of wood sounds behind me.
A thick hand covered in coarse white hair presses tightly against my mouth before I can draw the blade, a stubby arm pulling me tight against a hard chest that smells vinegary like spoiled wine with a hint of tobacco.
I can’t see the man’s clothing, but I know his allegiance all the same.
The brown leather bracers on his arms are embossed with a battle axe, the sigil of the War Goddess, Drayca.
The emblem, once reserved only for soldiers, has been widely adopted by the band of mercenaries who seek to force belief in the gods by any means necessary.
They call themselves Deliverers, and I’m a prominent member of their list of enemies.
“What a delightful little treat,” the stranger breathes in my ear, smelling my hair. “Did you really think we’d let you make it all the way to the Ascension Vote, Poison Ivy?”
My stomach roils in disgust as the man lets out a low, sinister laugh and buries his head against my neck. The final straw—his own death sentence, signed. Darkness swirls around the edges of my vision as a cloud moves to cover the blazing sun, casting the clearing in eerie shadows.
Lifting my left foot off the ground, I bury my heel into the man's instep causing him to instinctively lift his now throbbing foot. I take advantage of his loosened grip and momentary imbalance, thrusting my right elbow up and back. A loud crack signals my success as I break both the man’s nose and what remains of his hold on me.
“I’ll kill you for that, bitch!” He growls and lunges forward, unsheathing the sword hanging at his side.
I spin around, barely dodging the first slice of his blade as I raise my own and attempt to call the earth magic that still doesn’t answer. He’s slower than me, but still manages to dodge my sword as we begin to move in a clunky, uncoordinated dance.
Another slice, another miss.
If I’m to have any advantage on this man, I need to use my magic. The dark, decaying side of me, the side that exists to balance out the life in my veins, knows he won’t be walking away from this encounter anyway.
“You can’t run from the gods!” the man yells as he clumsily continues his forward press.
I ditch my sword for a throwing dagger and pivot, stepping back to balance my weight. My foot tangles on the root of a tree—a root I would have sensed if my magic hadn’t decided that now was a great time to take a fucking vacation.
Gravity forces me to the ground, my ass landing in a smacking thud before a large, booted foot kicks me square in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs.
“I’m going to take my time ruining you,” he snarls, an evil smile spreading across his scarred face as he plants his boot on my throat to hold me in place against the hard ground.
But I’ll gladly meet Death before I let him take another breath.
Refusing to sheath the sword, the man struggles to undo his fraying leather belt one-handed.
He averts his gaze from me for only a second, but it’s more than enough time for me to slide my hands down to the sheaths on my outer thighs.
I slip the daggers into my hands, readying my grip.
The clouds shift again, concealing my glinting blades in their shadows.
Pants now at his thighs and manhood exposed to the world, my attacker lowers himself to his knees.
His focus is so singularly on what he can take from me that he misses the way my arms tense before the steel slides cleanly into his abdomen.
He screams, panic overtaking his cruel demeanor as he realizes what I’ve done.
Using the daggers still buried in his sides as leverage, I twist, sending him toppling to the ground as I scramble to my feet, ripping my blades from his meaty flesh as I move.
“CUNT!” he roars.
Anyone in at least a mile radius now knows where we are, and if he’s traveling with a pack of Deliverers, they’ll be here soon. My attacker tries to stand, thick red blood pouring from his gaping wounds as falls back to his knees.
Realization crosses his face when he pulls his hand from his side and takes in the color of the blood that coats his pale fingers. Even if I allow him to crawl away from here, he’ll die soon. Even a piece of shit chosen by War herself can’t live with a punctured bowel.
Using the thick vegetation, I wipe his filthy blood from my blades and sheathe them. The darkness inside me doesn’t just want to skewer the bastard. No, I want to make him pay first, regardless of who else might be coming.
I crouch in the shadows, taunting the man with the quick death he now begs for. But I won’t grant it to him.
I want him to be afraid.
I want him to beg me to stop.
I want him to feel powerless.
And I’ll take down anyone who tries to come to his aid.
My eyes slam shut as power rushes back into my body. I wobble, gulping down air as if I’ve been deprived of it my entire life until my heart rate steadies. I flatten my palms on the ground and feel the soil rumble slightly under my command.
When my eyes open again, they trail upwards from the toes of two black boots until I meet Cal’s onyx-filled gaze.
Every muscle in his tanned arm pulls tight as he holds the bleeding man around the neck, his chokehold cutting off what little breath the dying man can manage.
Bright red blood trickles from the corners of my attacker’s mouth on its journey to join the puddles soaking the ground.
I’ve seen the menacing flash of black in his eyes before but in this state, with his pupils blown wide and his face contorted in a calm rage, he’s barely a man at all. Strange power ripples through me as Cal lets out a low, possessive growl and tightens his grip on the dying man.
“Release him,” I command, emboldened by magic.
“Are you hurt?” Cal asks through clenched teeth, never taking his eyes from mine even as the man withers in his hold.
“No.” I shake my head, raising my arms in slow, deliberate reassurance.
“Then leave, Ivy. I’m going to rip his limbs off one by one.”
He tosses the man into a bloody heap on the forest floor, cracking his knuckles in preparation to carry out his threat.
“The only one doling out punishments today is me.”
Cal freezes at my declaration, pivoting his head to me as the black in his irises recedes slightly. A dangerous, prideful smile pulls at the corners of his lips as he motions to the nearly-lifeless man below him.
“Then come take your kill, princess.”
I unsheathe a single dagger as I stalk towards him, only needing one for the death I plan to deliver.
Using the toe of my boot, I force the man’s slumped shoulders flat to the ground, giving him the same respect I would a piece rotten trash in the streets. Fitting for this scum.
Slowly, I lower myself over him, forcing my knees to press deep into his open wounds.
“Look at me,” I command, my voice not wholly my own.
His eyes snap to my face, the last face he’ll ever see before he meets Death.
“Your slow, painful death is courtesy of Poison Ivy. Your life is meaningless. There are no gods but me.”
I raise my dagger high above my head as darkness blocks out the sun entirely. The Dark God of Death lingers in the shadows waiting to claim another soul. One that I’m happy to deliver to him.
I raise my voice, hoping he hears every word.
“When you get to the Under Realm, give Death my regards. I hope he shreds your pathetic soul."
Throwing my entire body weight behind the blade, I thrust downward straight into the man’s heart. He twitches below me but I twist the dagger in deeper, harder until he goes completely still.
The clouds part as Death recedes, illuminating the corpse below me and the blood that coats us both. Strong hands grip my shoulder, hauling me wordlessly off the dead man.
“Come on, princess.”
I tear my eyes away from the body and take in the captain. His eyes are fully gray again, a mixture of pride, sadness, and longing written across his face.
The darkness within me, now sated, retreats, satisfied with the scales tipped in its favor. And if I leave them unbalanced … I shiver at the thought of what succumbing to its call might entail.
Cal uses his thumb to swipe blood off my cheek and I catch his hand before it can leave my face. The mixture of my power and adrenaline with the captain’s touch is a dangerous concoction, one intoxicating enough that I can’t resist leaning into his hold.
He pulls me tightly against his broad chest, my senses flooding with his salty scent. Cal rests his chin on the top of my head, the nurturing position breaking through my final defense.
Tears leak from my eyes, slowly at first before turning into heaving sobs. But Cal stays unwavering. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He simply holds me until I can steady myself.
“Don’t tell anyone about this,” I say in a soft threat as I pull back from his chest.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess.” He wipes the tears off my cheeks and smiles sadly as the gravity of the situation comes crashing back. “His badge indicates he’s a scout, which means there are more Deliverers a few miles behind him. They’ll be here soon—.”
“I’ll get rid of the body,” I cut him off.
“I will do it,” he refutes.
“Please, Cal.” The casual usage of this name halts whatever demand he was about to make, whatever command he was about to bark to get me to relent. I have to do this and I have to do it alone. “Let me.”
“Okay,” he says, stepping backward. “I’ll keep an eye out for the others, but you need to hurry.”
When I’m sure Cal is gone, I move towards the drained corpse and plant my palms on the ground around him. The dirtiness of his death requires the creation of beautiful life. Everything in equilibrium.
Plunging deep into the well of my powers, I pull more up than I’ve ever used before. The earth begins to quiver in slow, agonizingly painful ripples as I tear open the ground around me. A hole opens beneath the body, what’s left of my attacker dropping into a shallow grave.
I push harder, diving further into the painful emotions I’ve hidden away in an attempt to wield more magic. My mother’s face. The smell of the salty sea air by the cottage. The feel of her worn leather journal in my small, scared hands.
My arms tremble as I mold the landscape to cover the unholy grave. Thick green grass sprouts from the now desecrated earth, watered by the pools of spilled blood.
But still I dig deeper, focusing on the pain of a lifetime decided by others.
The loneliness of being choiceless. Every action or inaction that led to becoming the poisonous thing they created.
A lifetime spent neglected by supposedly loving gods.
Tiny godsbane flowers burst forth, stretching upwards towards the sun.
My knees give out, collapsing me into a heap on the forest floor. My head swims, black swirling in the edges of my vision and distorting reality. The contents of my stomach threaten to empty themselves, but only dry, painful heaves come.
Foggy and dazed, I stumble to my feet, grabbing trees to steady myself as I force my way away from the magically reshaped earth and into Cal’s waiting arms.