The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII Page 4

  As so many others did, Nerthus raised her eyes to the larger-than-life portrait of Aesa on the wall. It had been painted right before her disappearance, in the bloom of her youth, and it was startling how much Aesa still looked like the young woman in the picture. Nerthus turned her attention back to the domestic scene, utterly tranquil save for the dark-robed woman in the background, hovering in the shadows like some great raven.

  Nerthus sighed. The vampyr’s presence had one distinct advantage. It fully freed both Nerthus and Bristol to prepare the imperial forces for the assault on the Underworld, for nothing would happen to Aesa or her offspring as long as Malron’a was near.

  Chapter 8

  Raine sat at the table drinking a cup of something hot. It was not tea, but something thicker and darker. And it had an almost bitter taste that was abolished with a little milk and sugar, turning the drink pleasant. She nibbled at a piece of bread, but was not really hungry. She wondered if her appetite and her need for food were affected by this place. She had no idea how long she had been there, but she had eaten very little the entire time. Yet she had rarely felt hungry and felt no loss of strength for the lack of sustenance.

  “Good,” Feray said as she glided into the room. “You’re awake.”

  Feray came from the balcony leading to the throne room. There were only three entrances to Hel’s chambers, one that led to the garden, one that led to the throne room, and another that came in from a hall. Raine was certain of this, for she had examined every inch of the series of rooms, seeking any means of escape. But there was only the garden, which was surrounded on all sides by that ominous oblivion, the throne room, which was heavily occupied at all times, and the hall, which was blocked by a heavy door that Raine could not budge. There were many hallways branching off from the throne room, but Raine surmised she had zero chance of reaching them undetected, and the Goddess seemed to know where she was at all times. Raine had left Hel’s chambers only to walk in the garden, which she did often.

  A throng of Hel’s handmaidens followed Feray, bearing beautiful clothing: pants, a flowing shirt, soft boots, a cape. Raine looked at the clothing with distaste. It seemed Hel had gone to great lengths to discover all the fashions of the Arlanians, and enjoyed having her clothed in them. It was of no consolation that they were well-made, of the finest material, comfortable, and that she looked astonishing in them, a fact that the handmaidens more than adequately expressed in their sighs of pleasure at her appearance.

  “You will put these on.”

  Raine stood and held out her arms. She had given up resisting Feray. Any signs of rebellion from her were treated as the foolish tantrums of a child, and, out of sight of the Goddess, Feray would allow the wandering hands of the other handmaidens to linger for an extended period of time. Raine had learned that if she simply allowed them to dress her quickly, Feray would not let them touch her.

  “That’s enough,” Feray said, motioning the handmaidens to step back. Their disappointment was evident, but at least they were allowed to look, for the Arlanian was particularly gorgeous in this raiment. Even Faen could not deny her exquisite appearance as he ambled sideways into the room, officious and overbearing as always.

  “Hmph,” he said in disgust, “that will have to do.”

  Feray was not fooled by the dismissal. The demon could not hide his emotions, and he was stunned, angry, jealous, and impressed all at the same time. She was beginning to enjoy the power this Arlanian wielded over her fellow familiar.

  Although Raine yielded to Feray for the sake of expediency, she did not yield to Faen at all. Her disdain for the demon was evident, and it rankled him. The majority of time, she ignored him completely, which is what she was doing now. It was clear they were preparing her for something, and the limits of her patience and her cooperation were nearly at an end.

  Faen pulled a scroll out of thin air and fluttered it in her face in a haughty manner. “Today, you will be presented to the court.” Raine’s jaw clenched as the demon continued. “This is an extraordinary honor, but there is certain etiquette you must adhere to. Although the Goddess allows you great leeway in her private chambers,” Faen paused, and his tone indicated he disapproved of this latitude. “You must not engage in such behavior in open court.”

  Faen again fluttered the scroll in her face, and Raine was on the verge of snatching it from him. He began reading aloud.

  “You will walk three steps behind the Goddess, never at her side. You will not speak to her, unless spoken to. You will not eat or drink in her presence. You will not make eye contact with her, but will keep your eyes downcast at all times. You will bow when others bow, you will kneel when others kneel. You will not under any circumstances touch her. And you will not sit in her presence, but remain standing, for no one sits in the presence of the Goddess.”

  Faen particularly emphasized this, for Raine sat in the presence of the Goddess all the time. It had not occurred to her that no one else did.

  “Do you understand these rules of the court?”

  Raine ignored him, and he shoved the scroll in her face to where it almost touched her nose. In a blindingly fast move, she snatched the parchment from his hand and threw it with unerring accuracy across the room into the fireplace, where it burst into flames. Faen was stunned at the speed and violence of the move, and more stunned when she leaned down and stared into his face with ice blue eyes.

  “I’m going to enjoy killing you.”

  The demon was infuriated, but also a little afraid, which made him even more angry. It was easy to forget that Hel’s Arlanian sex toy was also Scinterian.

  At that moment, Hel entered the room and all grew quiet. She stopped abruptly at the sight of Raine, silently contemplating what was before her. And Feray felt an immense pride, for the look on the face of her Mistress told her that she and the handmaidens had done well.

  Hel sensed Feray’s pride, as well as Faen’s discomfiture, the latter which merely entertained her. She also sensed the Arlanian’s unwillingness to participate in her public display in the court. But as always, the willingness or unwillingness of her captive was irrelevant to her.

  “Come,” Hel said, “it is time.”

  A strange, dark overture began, the music drifting up from below the balcony. The music rose in volume as Hel stepped out onto the terrace to greet her subjects. Feray gestured for Raine to follow her, and as soon as her back was turned, Faen took the opportunity to shove her from behind. She stumbled, glaring at him, but followed Feray.

  All bowed before the Queen of the Underworld, and the fanfare turned to crescendo as she started down the steps. Raine stood on the terrace, frozen in place as all eyes turned towards her. A sea of faces, some beautiful, some hideous, some handsome, some demonic, floated before her. Their expressions were leering, curious, entertained, sarcastic, inquisitive, condescending, sneering, probing, and smirking. It was not their expressions which caused Raine to freeze, but rather the wave of lust that struck her like a physical blow. She had suffered the unwanted attentions of others her entire life, but she had never felt the covetousness and desire that washed over her now. She felt unclean as the gazes stripped her, imagined her naked, fantasized what the Goddess did to her every night, or better yet, what they would do if given the chance. Their hunger was like something alive.

  Feray glanced to the mortal with concern. It would not look well if they had to drag the Arlanian down the steps; the Goddess would be furious. Even Faen was growing tense. As much as he would have enjoyed shoving this whelp headlong down the staircase, his Mistress would have him flayed alive if this did not go according to plan.

  Raine felt two things that brought her peace. The first was that she became very cold, which reminded her that she was still pure amongst pure evil. The second was the welcome presence of her blue and gold markings, the scars that rose on her forearms, biceps, back and shoulders, invisible beneath her clothes,
but a welcome reminder that she was not just Arlanian, but Scinterian as well. Half of each, yet fully both, her eyes calmed to a neutral blue, she squared her shoulders, and without further hesitation, began walking down the steps, her head held high. And as she passed the throngs of demons, demi-gods, and magical creatures who fantasized about raping her, she fantasized about killing them. And those nearest her became aware of the disconnect between her vision and theirs, and with a growing discomfort, stepped back from the lethal demeanor that suggested her vision held the more probable outcome.

  Hel started up the steps to her throne, her robes flowing behind her, and Raine followed, accompanied by Feray. When they reached the top, Hel turned and stood in front of the throne, and Feray motioned that Raine was to stand off to her left. Raine obeyed the direction and turned to face the assembly. The wave of lust again assaulted her.

  The Goddess knew that all attention was on her and her companion. When she spoke, she gave a quiet command to Raine.

  “You will show them your eyes.”

  It was too much for Raine. “I will not.”

  Feray stiffened. No one had heard the defiance except her, but all were waiting for something to happen. The servant thought for sure that Hel would strike the mortal down. Instead, the Goddess spoke calmly, still in low tones, her expression never wavering.

  “You will show them your eyes or I will rape you on these steps, and they will see your eyes and so much more.”

  It was Raine’s turn to stiffen because there was no doubt in her mind that Hel would carry out her threat. She had no options other than to expose herself and become even more vulnerable than she already was.

  The entire assembly gasped with pleasure at the revelation of the violet eyes. A pleased murmur went through the crowd and there was much quiet, ribald, conversation. Their stares were so overt they might as well have been masturbating at the sight of the Arlanian, and Raine thought she saw some reach to touch themselves. Although she tried to maintain her pride, her cheeks flushed with shame as she lowered her head in humiliation. It was bad enough to be paraded through the court as Hel’s sex slave, now she felt an object of ridicule.

  And then Hel did the strangest thing. She gazed out at her assembly with a degree of disdain, then reached down and placed her fingers beneath Raine’s chin. She very gently, but firmly, guided her head upward so that Raine was forced to look at her, and then she bent down and kissed her ever-so-softly.

  The court grew silent. Hel drew back, enjoying both the confused look on the Arlanian’s face and the eyes that were now so violet they were nearly black. She released her, then settled onto her throne smoothing her robes. She glanced out at the assembly, then gestured with her hand to the bench at her side.

  “You will sit down.”

  Raine did not at first comply. She just stood there, looking at Hel in confusion, entirely uncertain as to what she should do. Then, very slowly, her eyes never leaving the Goddess, she sat down. Given Faen’s melodramatic instructions earlier, she was surprised she did not explode on contact with the bench.

  Hel gestured to Feray and the handmaiden brought her a glass of wine. Hel gave her a meaningful glance, and Feray understood completely, although she had already grasped the message of the Goddess. She approached Raine and offered her a glass as well, and Raine took the offering, too stunned and confused to contemplate if she even wanted it. She just took it and held it in her hands. Feray gave her a brief bow, the open sign of respect so muddling her thoughts she gave up trying to make sense of the situation.

  But Feray had made perfect sense of the situation. The Goddess had clearly communicated a message to all present. The kiss had been utterly possessive, declaring her absolute ownership of the being at her side: this was one that Hel would not share, nor allow to be humiliated. And her subsequent actions were perhaps even more significant. By allowing Raine, in fact commanding her, to sit and drink in her presence, Hel had just elevated the mortal above every other creature in the Underworld.

  Raine remembered little of the events of the court. Hel sat in judgment of people, decided some disputes, and issued several edicts. Many sought to curry favor, and all acted with the same fearful reverence before the Goddess. They still cast longing, even lustful glances at the Arlanian, but they did so with a degree of discretion that had been lacking before.

  Hel glanced to Raine, noting that she still held the goblet of wine, untouched.

  “Drink.”

  Raine looked down at the glass of wine numbly, as if she had forgotten about it. She lifted the goblet to her lips and took a sip. The wine was exquisite, but its effect was immediate. Raine’s vision blurred, then refocused, and she felt a little light-headed. Feray moved to take the glass from her, which she was on the verge of spilling, and Raine tried to clear her head. Most alcohol did not affect her at all, but that made her feel inebriated from one sip.

  Hel smiled, for the wine of the gods would kill a normal mortal. She had suspected it would do no such thing with this one. And after watching those lips touch the glass and the wine, observing the unconsciously sensual gestures of the creature next to her, Hel was no longer that interested in the court in front of her. The Arlanian had already been bewildered by events; now her confusion was magnified by the spirits she had just consumed. Hel had every intention of taking advantage of that befuddled state in her bed, preferably as soon as possible.

  Feray caught the glance of her Mistress and moved to Raine’s side, indicating she should stand. Raine did so, swaying slightly and catching herself. She took a deep breath, willing some self-control. Hel stood and all in the court kneeled before her. According to Faen’s instructions, Raine knew she should be kneeling, but she was afraid she might not stay upright if she went to her knees. The Goddess saved her from her uncertainty and held out her hand to Raine. After staring at the appendage for a moment, Raine took it, holding it in the position of escort. And since she had already violated every one of the Faen’s rules of etiquette, she escorted the Goddess from the room, walking at her side.

  They did not have to proceed through the throne room again. There was a door behind Hel’s throne, one that led through a hallway that circled back up to her chambers, and Raine saw the other side of the immoveable door, one that Hel opened with a wave of her hand. Feray followed them in, but then dismissed herself without direction, for truly she had ceased to exist in the eyes of the Goddess.

  Hel was extraordinarily pleased with the day in court. What was routine, mundane, even insufferable, was almost pleasant with the Arlanian at her side. And even unknowingly and unwillingly, the mortal had acted with perfection. Raine’s current pliability only increased Hel’s pleasure, and she undressed her in an unhurried manner and guided her to the bed. Then, determined to take advantage of her relaxed state, the Goddess of the Underworld spent several hours very gently sodomizing her captive lover, bringing her to exquisite release before she herself released on top of her.

  Raine awoke many hours later, tangled with the Goddess. Her thoughts were still muddled, perhaps the lingering effects of the wine. And she was exhausted. Just lying skin-to-skin with the Goddess was draining, although, thankfully, that which made her so cold also warmed her. Hel’s evil was freezing, but her hot-blooded nature made her skin very warm. Raine shifted and the Goddess reached out in her sleep to wrap her arm around Raine’s waist.

  Sleep was overtaking Raine once more, but one thought kept circling as she reviewed the events in court. The way Hel treated her was confusing, and more than a little alarming. Raine understood none of the machinations of the court. But the deference with which she was treated felt dangerous, and Raine had the uneasy suspicion it might lead to a worse outcome than had Hel raped her on the steps.

  Chapter 9

  Maeva signed the parchment with her graceful scrawl, then pushed the pile of paperwork to the side. Although she was much preoccupied these days, the A
lfar Republic would not run itself, and as Directorate of the High Council, she could not afford to give in to distraction. But, she admitted to herself, sometimes a break was needed.

  “I will return shortly, Melwen,” she said, and her trusted assistant nodded, sorting through the remaining paperwork.

  The tall, lovely elven woman passed through the archways of the citadel, her almond shaped eyes unfocused as she was lost in thought. The Alfar guards, formidable in their green and gold armor, snapped to attention as she passed, but she barely acknowledged them. Her robes flowed behind her, and the intricate braids in her long hair swayed with her graceful motion. She came to the library, where her brother Feyden and his companions were hard at work. She took a moment to examine his fair features, a masculine version of her own.

  “And how goes your task?” Maeva asked him.

  “It goes well,” Feyden said, indicating the enormous map that was laid on the table in front of them. The scribe who had completed the drawing was a skilled artist, for not only was the map accurate, it was beautiful in a horrible kind of way. Maeva examined the rendition of the Gates of the Underworld, the red and black courtyard, and the other features that the scribe had recreated in detail.

  “It is accurate in scale,” Feyden said, “or at least as much as we can remember. Dagna’s recollection is extraordinary.”

  “A necessity for a bard,” Dagna said, shrugging off the compliment.

  “Don’t sell yourself short, lass,” Lorifal said. “Dwarves have near-perfect recall, and you’re putting me to shame.”