Chapter 21 Daesra #2
Then I face the bridge. It’s wide enough for a horse-drawn cart, and yet it looks frail, stretched out over such a span of frothing dark waves. It sways slightly, creaking in the salty rot breeze.
“I’ll go first,” I call, stepping slowly onto it, as if it might recoil at my touch.
Or if, perhaps, the Gentle One has been waiting for this moment to dive out of the sky.
This would be the perfect time. Not only am I exposed atop the bridge, I’m attempting to reach her master’s fortress after the judges denied me entry—the exact sort of move that would offend a Gentle One.
I walk perhaps twenty paces out onto the bridge, waiting. Searching the skies. Listening. But all I see are heavy clouds and all I hear is the wind. Then again, both of those serve as excellent disguises. But nothing appears.
I turn back toward Melé and Pogli. “All right, you can—”
The assurance dies on my lips. Crouched atop the platform is an enormous black three-headed dog—wolf—about the size of the daemon king, with great wings tucked against its back and three sets of yellow eyes trained on me.
When I meet its stare as best I can—as scattered as it is—one of its lips begins to curl.
Melé is crouched right beneath it on the stairs, her eyes wide in terror and her hand over her mouth as if to keep from screaming. Pogli simply hasn’t seen the creature yet, but she has her other hand buried in his scruff to keep him low.
Good. I need its attention to stay fixed on me. I whip my sword from the air, readying to charge.
And then the fucking Gentle One lands on the planks in front of me with a thump that jounces the entire bridge. She braces her raptor legs, digging her talons into the wood, and spreads her bat wings. Blocking my path. Of course.
“Move!” I shout at her, brandishing my blade.
“I will let you go,” she says, still calm and cold—still not moving, “but only that way.” She tips her head, her snakes swaying, at the span of the bridge behind me. “Go now, and I won’t attack you.”
“Why?” I spit.
Behind her, the hulking creature’s tail twitches behind it almost like a cat’s.
Except the tip of said tail is tufted in a massive spiked ball that grates over the platform like steel over stone.
Now two of its upper lips are twisted in a snarl, baring too many teeth, and a low growl like thunder rises from more than one throat.
Pogli’s ears perk up with a tilt of his head, and then I see him start to struggle against Melé, though it’s hard to look between the two of them, the creature, and the Gentle One.
She only keeps her disturbing white eyes on me—apparently unconcerned by the beast at her back.
“We are much alike, you and I. You became the shape of vengeance as a daemon. As a god, you’ve pursued vengeance against Isha.
He is my master, but I understand your cause.
Isha forced your hand when he stole your love from you, breaking the rules of the underworld, his own rules, to do it.
My sisters have been destroyed as a result.
And while it is not my place to judge or punish my master, you can. ”
I gape at her in disbelief. Is she telling me to do what I think she is? “Wouldn’t you be defying the gods in letting me go? Only the greatest offense of all, according to the judges you serve?”
Her black lips curve in an unapologetic smile. “Why do you think Isha selected the three women who are one—the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone—to be judges in his stead? Because he didn’t trust men. He didn’t trust himself. And yes, he is a god. But so are you.”
I can’t help barking a strangled laugh. “So your hands will remain clean, since you’re acting through me. I’ll become the shape of your vengeance.” First my own, then Horizon’s, and now hers. Is that all I’m made for? I think despairingly. Vengeance?
“Only if you succeed. If you don’t…” She trails off, lifting her brows.
“Then Isha enacts your vengeance upon me. Either way, your justice is delivered.” I rather feel that’s taking credit for a lot of work on both Isha’s and my part, but perhaps I shouldn’t argue that she more directly involve herself.
And yet the three-headed monster behind her might want to involve her, since it’s stalking closer to the bridge, growling and dripping ropes of saliva as it goes, wings arching to prepare for a pounce. It ignores Melé and Pogli, even though Pogli is thrashing in her arms and starting to screech.
They’re allowed to cross, so perhaps it doesn’t mind them.
The Gentle One nods, still seemingly oblivious to the immense danger creeping up behind her. “But you must go, now. This is your chance—while you are still strong. Leave Pogli and Melé, and march upon Isha. Harm no other soul as you do, or our deal is nullified. This is the cost of my offer.”
Her first demand is so unthinkable that all I can do is focus on the absurdity of the second. “How can I avoid hurting another soul? Have you seen this place?” I gesture around wildly and point with my sword. “Look at that!”
She must be able to smell the beast’s breath on her neck, because I can.
She only shrugs. “Or you can face my justice now. Your choice.”
The beast’s feathered wings flare, blotting out much of the sky behind the Gentle One’s, even as its shoulders sink into a crouch.
Its raised hind end shifts in readiness with furious lashes of its tail, the weight of the spiked end whistling through the air.
Its three jaws gape in quivering rictus grins, its six yellow eyes wide and alight with anticipation.
Any moment now…
Right as it leaps and I raise my sword, Pogli crashes into its shoulder.
He’s the size of a lion, and his jaws latch on to the creature’s neck, sending it spinning—even though he’s still small in comparison, and it has three necks.
Both of them spiral right off the platform in a rush of wings and claws.
I don’t see them hit the sand, but I hear it.
That and the snarling, snapping, vicious screeching that follows.
“Pogli!” I lurch forward with a cry, but the Gentle One catches me with her wing.
I’m tempted to slice right through the leathery membrane until she hisses in my ear along with her snakes, which bare their fangs right in front of my face.
“I must warn you, I am stronger than my sisters. While I doubt my ability to succeed entirely where they failed, I will make your victory as painful as possible. Under my assault, you wouldn’t be able to help the poor creature anyway, and your mortal mother would be defenseless. ”
“She is now!” I shout, cutting my hand, if not my sword, through the air before the Gentle One’s face. She doesn’t flinch. “I can’t leave either of them!”
As if I called for her, Melé runs out onto the bridge, ducking as she goes, her eyes wild and panicked. The Gentle One’s other wing extends back in her direction.
“I will stand guard over your mother. You know I can’t harm her, and you can’t waste your strength on this.
You have my word that I will even see her to the Blessed Isles if Pogli is…
unable. Unfortunately, I don’t have the authority to call off Bereus, since this is his domain.
He’s only doing his duty. And sweet Pogli is doing his duty in protecting you. ”
So go do yours, she seems to be telling me.
I hear a yelp of pain amidst the ferocious commotion on the beach—Pogli’s, perhaps.
It absolutely guts me, the thought of leaving Pogli to fight this monster and Melé with the very embodiment of vengeance that has been hunting me. My mortal mother didn’t want to leave me behind, a god, while she carried on. It’s the very last thing I want to do to her.
But there are dangers both ahead and behind us now, and if I don’t move forward the Gentle One will count among them, instead of as a protector. This is the safest path for Melé.
Not for Pogli. I screw my eyes shut with a shuddering grimace as I hear another earsplitting screech of pain.
Sadaré. I have to save Sadaré, no matter the cost. I just didn’t understand it would be this great.
Forward and always down.
“Go!” Melé cries from behind the Gentle One. “Promise me you’ll listen to her. Promise me you won’t harm anyone. Don’t let Isha make you into something you aren’t.” Her voice breaks. “But no matter what, I love you.”
“I know.” A tear carves a burning path down my own cheek. “And I promise.”
“Be cold,” the Gentle One says, stepping back toward Melé. “For the god of death will be.” She gives me a short bow of her head, though her snakes still glare at me, tongues flickering. “We’ll see who tastes my vengeance.”
I feel as though I’m splitting in half just like the daemon king as I spin away from her—and from Melé and Pogli—to charge across the bridge.
The planks blur in my vision, but I don’t stop—because the other half of me is on the far side.
My heart is on the other side, in Isha’s fortress. And yet it still breaks.
The sounds of the fight fade behind me, swallowed by the rush of the waves beneath me.
I’m going to kill him, I’m going to kill him, I’m going to kill him, I think, to the rhythm of my ragged breathing and pounding steps.
And then, suddenly, halfway across the bridge, I find myself looking at him. His dark form appears right in the middle of the bridge. I halt so fast, arms wheeling, that I nearly go tumbling at his feet. Or over the edge. But I catch myself on my toes, coming down hard on my heels.
I stare in absolute loathing at the god of death.
Isha himself doesn’t smile at me. His iron eyes look shadowed. Haunted, almost. As usual, his black hair and robes don’t shift in the wind.
I fucking hate that he’s so beautifully untouchable. A shadow over the entire underworld. I want to cut into him, watch him bleed gold. I want to cut him in half like my heart, and watch the pieces of him fall into the sea.
I ready my sword, not so angry or foolish or vengeful that I’ll risk slicing apart the bridge with one of my godly strikes. I’m only bitterly cold.
At least jealousy is the furthest thing from my mind, despite what his presence might portend.
“Do you want to show her to me, in the hopes that I’ll crumble? Is that why you’re here?” I sweep my blade wide—hoping he’ll step in close. “Do it. Here, inside, wherever, I can’t stop you. But you can’t stop me. I’m coming for Sadaré, no matter what memory of her you reveal.”
“I know,” he says flatly. Tonelessly almost, though his voice is still like a midnight breeze. “I’ve been waiting for you. For so long.”
And then he’s gone—leaving me with the ghost of a kiss against my cheek.