Power of the Lost Page 11

  "I watched our sister's tomb for over a thousand years," Euryale hissed, glaring at her sister. "Obviously, that was too much responsibility for you, so instead you can stay here and watch this key."

  She smiled wickedly as she added, "Guard it well, sister mine. Your freedom depends on it."

  Stheno opened her mouth and tried to spit as her snakes hissed and dripped venom from their fangs, but with her windpipe slashed she only managed a bit of bloody drool. Euryale's grin broadened and her eyes widened as she snapped her brazen fingers and said, "You know what? You're absolutely right, sister mine! THIS key is too far away! What if someone came upon it and stole it? We can't have that."

  She plucked the key back up off the ground and flicked the dirt from it casually as she strolled back to her sister and, after a moment's thought, used it to stab her just below the breastbone. Stheno convulsed as Euryale pushed her hand into the brutal wound, using the key to carve her way deeper in under the ribs. She felt for her sister's heart, and left the key nestled right below it after giving the muscle a hard squeeze that made Stheno's eyes bulge in their sockets at the magnitude of the pain she endured.

  Once her hand was withdrawn, the wound sealed itself up without a trace.

  "There," Euryale said, smiling brightly as she caught and crushed the head of one of Stheno's striking snakes. "Now you can keep what's near to your heart safe."

  As though in response, the eldest of the gorgon sister's began to glow with a warm, shimmering radiance.

  "No ... nonoNO!" Recognizing the light for what it was, Euryale screamed in rage and slashed her now smiling sister's face, tearing it to shreds over and over, but there was nothing she could do to stop what was happening.

  Seconds later, Stheno vanished. The dagger, key, and chains clattered to the earth, left behind.

  Euryale stood and screamed again in pure, unadulterated frustration. As she drew breath for another scream though, a sudden thought made her hesitate, then her parted lips closed. A moment more, and those lips turned up into a vicious smile as she reached into her hoard and pulled out the mask she had just stolen. It was carved into a likeness of her sister's scowling face. Euryale smiled at it, then lifted it, kissing its lips as she cooed, "Your master might have given up his eyes for you, but I suspect the rest of his army has them still. Do give them Athena's regard, dear sister."

  She crouched and collected the chains, returning them to her hoard before she stood, whirling in alarm as another thought occurred.

  Thomas might have caught her Master, and if he had, summoning Stheno would doom everyone she loved. Stheno did not know Euryale had discovered a solution to turn stone to flesh, but her sister would never leave their statues intact ... just for spite.

  Screaming in panic, she crouched as her wings flared, and she took to the skies.

  Isthil shook her head, recovering from the blast that had knocked her off her hooves and thrown Thomas from her saddle. Her first thought was for her master, and she glanced wildly around. Even the mammoths had been thrown from their feet by the tremendous wave of magical energy the death seed had released, and their howdahs were shattered. Many of the elites and even some of Thomas' other bonded women failed to rise from the wreckage. More than a few of the mammoths had been bowled completely over and had rolled over their burdens, crushing them utterly.

  The zone beasts, being mindless, had been first to recover, and battle was raging nearby.

  The furies had been blown from the air, but many of them were still fighting. As Isthil turned, she caught sight of Thomas, spinning amidst a circle of the furies, his strange weapons practically singing as their pliant blades arced through the air in beautiful, glittering arcs that trailed blood behind them as he whirled, literally slashing his foes to pieces.

  Isthil, along with the surviving locutors, elites, and bonds, all knew better than to get close to Thomas while his urumi were in his hands. She got close though, and any fury she touched collapsed, sound asleep. She smashed their heads open with her hooves, trampling her foes rather than bothering with an actual feeding. That would come later, if there were survivors.

  Throughout the fight she kept an eye on Thomas, but the man needed no help. He did not fight, did not engage anyone. He simply danced, spinning as his head tilted to a music only he could hear, and his whirling, glittering, singing blades killed everything that got within their range, spraying their blood in all directions as they fell in pieces around him.

  In the end, what remained the murder of furies broke and fled. Those who could still fly took to the air while those who could not ran and were quickly overtaken and slaughtered by the zone beasts.

  As she watched, Isthil estimated that no more than a third of their assailants survived.

  Turning, she considered the remainder of their own forces. Several of the mammoths were dead or dying, and those that remained had rampaged and would need to be caught. It seemed that most of the damage done to them had been done by the wave of force, rather than the fury assault.

  Here and there she saw a zone beast impaled, its body hung from a javelin that had been hurled down from on high. A few more had been killed in melee, but most of the mindless beasts had survived. None of the ground-based locutors seemed to have been harmed.

  The zone elites and bonded women riding the howdahs though had suffered greatly for their privilege. Fully half looked to have been killed, and a great many more were grievously injured.

  'This was supposed to have been a simple matter. How did it go so wrong, so quickly?' she silently wondered, shaking her head at the carnage.

  There had been no mention of a fury island anywhere nearby, much less a murder, perhaps two full murders of the cursed things in active pursuit of the template they were chasing. It was bad luck, pure and simple. There was no other reasonable explanation.

  Then there was the blast that had caused the majority of the carnage. The way it had been described to Isthil, this template had only recently come to Celestine. How had he managed, in so short a time, to become so mighty? Or perhaps he had a bond capable of such feats of magic? The death seed's destructive force was something Isthil knew and feared, but she had never seen it used as a discriminate weapon before.

  Turning her attention back to the road, she saw no trace of the wagon or the horsemen that had accompanied it. All she saw was a wide circle of charred, blackened stone and dirt some fifty feet in diameter. Everything within that circle had been annihilated.

  Then again, perhaps this template did our work for us. What could possibly have survived that?

  "Isthil, my dear," Thomas' voice cut through her thoughts and drew her attention to him.

  "Form them up."

  The nightmare made no direct acknowledgement of Thomas' command, but let him hear her bellowing orders to what remained of the zone forces, putting them back in some semblance of control.

  By the time she had most of them in proper ranks, Thomas had completed a blood circle and was glowing brilliantly as he spoke words of magic. Isthil recognized them as such, but could make no sense of them despite the fact that she knew more than a few spells herself. The words Thomas spoke were as different from the language of spells she knew as an eagle's cry was from a lion's roar.

  The rank and file turned as though by instinct to watch the display, and even Isthil found herself captivated.

  Thomas' magic was always accompanied by a divine glow, a warm radiance that drew the eye and filled the watcher with a sense of child-like wonder. It seemed as though broad wings of glittering gold were spread out behind him as he raised his hands, then brought them together in a clap that echoed away toward the mountains like rolling thunder.

  The light focused inside the blood circle he had drawn in the flattened grass, and when it faded, Isthil got the impression of red, reptilian eyes.

  Those eyes were the last thing she saw.

  Stheno looked around with growing panic.

  The army, her army, had turned to stone. Her s
nakes spread out, looking for Euryale, thinking her sister must somehow have been transported as well. There was no trace of her younger sister. She was alone with Thomas, which meant ...

  My mask.

  She reached up for it, only to confirm that it had been lost. Euryale must have stolen it from her, somehow.

  Thomas was very still. His head was tilted in that way he had, an unconscious affectation while he sensed what he could not see.

  Stheno's heart tightened in her chest as he straightened, head turning, brow furrowed in disbelief. Finally, he turned his face back to her. She quailed, eyes squeezing shut as she winced under his words.

  They were soft, understanding ... kind. It only made it worse. "My eyes, I instructed you that under no circumstances but my direct order were you to remove your mask. Please explain?"

  She could not even attempt subterfuge. One of Thomas' innumerable bond gifts made it impossible to lie to him. He immediately recognized any attempt at deception for what it was.

  "My sister ... beat me. I don't know how she did it, but I lost consciousness. She must have stolen my mask during that time. I did not know it was gone until ... this."

  Thomas tilted his head slightly as he asked, "You did not take it off yourself?"

  "Never, Master. I have not disobeyed you."

  He nodded slowly as he said with exceeding softness, "No ... you only failed me."

  "Master, please, give me a chance to correct this."

  "I was under the impression that this," he gestured around at the statuary, "was not something to be corrected. Only something to be mourned. I lost many bonds here today. What forces I might easily bring to bear are destroyed. The death seed has been corrupted, and the object of our search, Terrence Mack, is gone."

  The full force of his attention was so potent that Stheno found it hard to breathe as he turned it back to her and asked, "What possible correction can you offer me?"

  "I will find him, and I will kill him. I will bring you his head as proof. Please! Let me do this for you."

  "You are unsuited to a quest of this sort. Even your little sister was more than a match for you."

  "She's no longer with him!" Stheno said, desperate. "Please, Master! All I need is another mask! I will find him before she does, and end him. I beg you, let me do this for you!"

  Thomas did not answer immediately. He lifted his head and seemed to lose himself in thought. At last he nodded, and spread his hand as he spoke in sonorous Aramaic, his native tongue.

  Seconds later, the brilliant light of his radiance engulfed her a second time, and when it cleared, she found herself once more in the depths of the Seat of Devotion.

  Her smile faded though as she recognized the place she had been sent, and she wrapped her hands around the bars of her cage as with a second, then a third flash, Thomas appeared, but not alone.

  Beyond him in the shadows loomed the figure of one of the Powers, and Thomas said, speaking to them both, "I have agreed to allow Stheno to correct a problem of her own making. She is obviously insufficient as she is, so do your best to give her every advantage. When she is ready, pass her your mask and set her free. She already knows what she must do."

  The shadowy figure slid forward. She was immense: the upright portion over twenty feet tall. She was monstrously pregnant, her belly swollen to gigantic proportions and her breasts so heavy and full that they rested on her stomach, the nipples leaking constant streams of milk. Twelve pairs of arms lined her sides, muscular, taloned, and flexing as the masked figure came into the full light of the single torch that lit her workshop.

  The mask she wore, like Stheno's, had been carved into her likeness, but even for the gorgon it was so hideous that she found it difficult to look at for more than a few seconds. Her lower body was that of a massive serpent, and so long that it trailed away into the darkest shadows and even then had to be coiled to fit in the cavernous hall.

  The woman's uppermost pair of hands clapped once as she spoke, the others clenching and relaxing in eagerness, her voice as melodious and beautiful as the rest of her was hideous.

  "As you wish, Husband. I have long desired to practice my flesh craft on the eldest of the gorgon sisters. She has always been ... on my mind. My son Cruxes will guide you out."

  Stheno pleaded as a zone elite stepped out of the deeper shadows, walking backward so as not to suffer her curse. "Master, please! I don't need this! I can do it as I am!"

  Thomas reached through the bars. Stheno took his hand and he squeezed it gently as he said, "You are my most beloved, I can't take chances with you. What just happened should be proof enough of that. I want to ensure that you not only succeed, but come home safe to me. I love you, my eyes. I am sure you will be victorious."

  Hot tears slid down the gorgon's cheeks as she watched her master turn and walk away with his hand on the shoulder of Cruxes, one of his countless children by her younger sister Echidna, the Mother of Monsters.

  12

  Cornered

  Terry felt a sense of shame as he watched from his place as the rest of the company got ready to face ... whatever it was. Yuri had said it was stirges, but the word meant nothing to him. He knew he should be out there with them, getting ready to fight. But he felt a reluctance to move from where he was.

  Instead, he found himself caught in a curious bout of self-examination. He knew himself, and knew this wasn't like him. Why had he given in so readily? He could fight. It was true he felt amazingly weak, as though he'd just given blood and then run a 10K, but still ... fighting was in his bones. It was what he did. Why was he now sitting quietly between a couple of barrels hiding like a little kid?

  Words from the not-so-distant past came back to him, echoing in his mind. Cecaelia's words.

  'Your bonds influence you ...'

  Is that what this is? he wondered. Am I being 'influenced?'

  Prada's thoughts floated through his mind, 'It is possible, Husband. We ALL want you safe, and we all know you are prone to throw yourself into danger. Doing so now would be foolish, so yes, perhaps your bonds are muting your natural inclinations.'

  As he focused on and listened to Prada, Terry noticed a feeling behind the words, something she seemed to be trying to keep from him. He recognized it, but before he could ask her about it a wave of small birds exploded out of the trees accompanied by a loud, deep buzzing sound. It sounded like a swarm of bees, only deeper, more insistent.

  Asturial cut loose with another gout of flame as Mila's spell took hold and a half-dome of green energy appeared above the group, covering them and shielding them from overhead.

  Several of the birds thumped hard into the shield and were momentarily stunned into stillness, and Terry saw that they weren't birds. They were more like bloated mosquitoes, with two sets of dragonfly-like wings. Their proboscis were a full foot long and barbed, and the eyes were multi-faceted and ranged from yellow to pink. The somewhat bulbous bodies were hairy and grotesque, and as the swarm adjusted to the presence of the shield and began to swarm underneath it, the battle — if it could be called that — began in earnest.

  He watched, captivated.

  Marcus was so quick with his mace that he was able to hit multiple stirges with each heavy swing. Laina wasn't nearly as fast, but after a frustrated pair of swings she turned her ax in her hands and started using it like a flyswatter, which proved much more effective.

  Yuri stood behind the two tauren, his sword flickering between them and around them, nicking and skewering stirges that got past their swings and the massive, door-sized shield Marcus was using. He seemed completely dedicated to keeping the blood-sucking things away from the legs of his companions, and he excelled at the job.

  Still, with so many it was inevitable that some would get through, and Laina bellowed as one latched onto her side, its proboscis sinking into her hide fully half its length before Yuri was able to cut it away.

  Shy seemed unconcerned by the stirges, and they were ignoring her. Terry was reminded that s
he had no blood, and if these really were just mutant mosquitoes they'd have no reason to go after her. He couldn't see her face, but her shoulders were hunched and the Rod of Arcs was planted in the ground in front of her. She shivered, and a spray of static shocks arced out, hitting everything within ten feet of her, including all of her companions and even Terry himself.

  It felt like he'd been tased, and were it not for the brevity of the shock he knew he'd have locked up. Asturial seemed not even to notice as she spun her hands, controlling the shape of a flaming disc which she was simply passing through the air. The wings of any stirges that even got close to it vaporized, leaving them helpless on the ground.

  The shocks jolted the rest of the party though, and were it not for the fact that every stirge the lightning touched was stunned to the ground, it might have ended badly for everyone.

  As it was, Asturial quickly adjusted her disc of flame and swept it over the ground, destroying the wings of a huge number of the insects and leaving them not only stunned, but helpless.

  Prada, I know you're starving. Go get them before Astur burns them up.

  'I'm staying right where I am, Husband. Yes, I am hungry. YOU can feed me later, when you've recovered. The idea of eating giant mosquitoes isn't any more appetizing to me than it is to you.'

  There were few stirges left in the air, but they continued their mindless assault. Another twenty seconds of combat saw the last of them destroyed. No one relaxed though, and a few seconds later, Terry saw why.

  There was movement out in the jungle. He asked, "What's out there?"

  Yuri's voice was sharp and commanding. "Hide, and keep quiet!"

  As he spoke, the tiger man pulled the tailgate up and lashed it into place before turning again as Terry heard a chittering that sounded like something between metal nails on glass and a spaz with a coach's whistle. Despite the utterly alien sounds, Terry found he could understand words here and there, almost certainly due to the magic that translated for him. The gist was that they were trespassing, and had committed some sort of crime in killing the stirges.