The Goddess of the Underworld: The Chronicles of Arianthem VIII Page 6

  Idonea did not possess Skye’s eyesight, but she could feel the dark magic in the one approaching, magic exceeded only by that of her mother. The dragons grew larger and became distinct. Drakar’s ebony wings and sleek body were prominent against the pale blue sky. Kylan glittered silvery in the light, her massive frame moving with the particular grace of the Ancient ones. They let out distinct roars as they circled the capital city, then dove downward towards the terrace. Drakar arrived first, pulling up sharply and coming into a dramatic landing whereas Kylan took a more leisurely ascent, landing with the gentlest of earthquakes. Massive talons scraped against the stone and the heavy plating made a grating sound as the dragon scales scraped against one another. A flash of red light, followed by a flash of silver, blinded the women standing on the terrace, and the two dragons disappeared. A darkly handsome man dressed in black stepped forward. His well-trimmed mustache and dashing goatee offset flashing black eyes, and he bore more than a passing resemblance to Idonea. He held his hand out to his raven-haired companion, silver streaking her hair, as beautiful and magnificent in human form as she was in dragon. Although normally garbed in a blue gown, today she wore dragon-scale armor, and much like Talan’s, it was the same color in both her manifestations. Both Kylan and Drakar were known for deviltry and good humor, and neither had a trace of those emotions on their faces today. Fatigue clouded Kylan’s lovely features, and it was apparent Drakar held his hand out as much for support as from simple chivalry. Idonea quickened her step.

  “Kylan!” she said as she approached, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. Kylan took one look at the somber young woman, saw the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes, and held out her arms.

  “Oh, come here, my love.”

  Idonea buried her head against Kylan’s shoulder, welcoming the strong, maternal embrace of the Ancient Dragon. Drakar’s throat ached as a lump formed. Idonea had shown little emotion since their mother had been taken, but she had reacted exactly as he had upon first sight of Kylan. Kylan was Talan’s most trusted ally amongst dragonkind, and so very much like their mother in many ways.

  Idonea leaned back and brushed angrily at her tears. “You’re injured.”

  “A scratch,” Kylan said dismissively. “And I’ve nearly slept it off these weeks. We were ambushed by Volva’s forces when we were trying to reach the battlefield.”

  Idonea nodded. “Volva was with the Hyr’rok’kin in the Empty Land, but she was accompanied by only a handful of lesser dragons.”

  “Yes, all others attacked us in a most cowardly manner.” The steel in her voice matched that in her eyes. “They paid for it with their annihilation. But your mother,” Kylan herself had to pause from her emotion, “your mother felt the arrival of the Goddess and used the fade bracelet, and that was the last I saw of her.”

  “We never saw her again, either,” Idonea said. “I can only guess that Hel laid a trap for her in Nifelheim, and that was why Raine dove into that portal.”

  Kylan sighed. “And so she trapped them both.”

  “Raine is still alive,” Skye said, having approached with the others. “I am connected to her, and I can still feel the connection.”

  Kylan considered these words, and glanced to Idonea, seeing that she, too, understood the ramifications. Talan and her Scinterian were bound to one another, so if Raine was alive, that meant Talan was alive as well. But who knew under what conditions?

  “Kylan,” the Queen said gently, “we have many healers, and my First Scholar is very skilled. What can we do to help you with your injuries?”

  “Thank you, your Majesty, but I believe the one who can help me the most is living in your garden. Magical creatures often require magical solutions.”

  “Ah,” Halla said in understanding, “Y’arren and Elyara are both here.”

  “I will take you to them,” Idonea said. “So I will see you around seven this evening?” Idonea asked, addressing the High Priestess.

  “I look forward to it,” Astrid said.

  For once, Drakar felt no jealousy regarding his sister. She had been so melancholy; it might do her some good. The Divine knew he had been plowing everything that moved.

  The Ancient Dragon walked off arm-in-arm with the children of her liege, and Kylan’s voice drifted back to them as she addressed Idonea.

  “The High Priestess herself? Your mother would be so proud.”

  Chapter 12

  The ball of light floated leisurely towards its target as Y’arren watched closely. Idonea stood with her arms crossed, also observing the benign-looking object float across the courtyard. Their vigilance seemed out of proportion to the harmless looking spell, but this ball of light was no ordinary magical creation. It was pure energy, a manifestation of unadulterated light magic, as dangerous as anything that dark magic could produce.

  “Now bring it to a stop,” Y’arren instructed.

  Skye took a deep breath, manipulated her hands from a distance, and the orb slowed, then stopped, hovering in front of the target.

  Idonea nodded in approval. This was a great advancement. Skye had been able to produce the energy before, but had been unable to control it in any way. Once she had started it on a trajectory, it continued indefinitely in a straight line path, at the same speed, in the same direction, leisurely destroying everything in its path. She had nearly unleashed disaster on the castle as a previous attempt began an unstoppable excursion through the palace, and only Raine’s presence and her immunity to magic had averted that catastrophe. Idonea, whose skill with light magic was considerable for one whose blood was filled with dark magic, had been able to teach Skye the spell, but unable to teach her how to control it. The ancient elven seer, filled with the power of the natural world, had filled that gap in Skye’s education.

  “Now draw it back to you,” Y’arren directed.

  Skye took another deep breath, moved her hands in a wide arc, and slowly the ball began floating back towards her. A sheen of sweat gathered on her forehead, perhaps from concentration, or perhaps from the knowledge that the orb would burn a hole right through her if she failed to stop it. But she raised her hand as the ball neared, it hiccupped slightly in its motion, slowed, then came to a complete stop. The light bathed her features in a warm glow as it hovered before her.

  “Now dismiss it,” Y’arren said.

  Skye slowly lowered both hands, and the ball of light winked out.

  Only then did Idonea release her breath. The spell that Skye was utilizing was extremely powerful, and made even more so by the fact that Skye used only light magic. Most mages were proficient in one or the other, but even those who specialized in light magic still used dark magic on occasion. Skye had never done so, and her gift possessed a purity that was both potent and dangerous. When she had used this spell before, she had been unable to dismiss the orb, and there were some she had created in battle that were conceivably still floating across the realm.

  Y’arren put her hand on Skye’s shoulder, and Skye welcomed the affectionate gesture. Y’arren exuded warmth and love, even in the worst of times, and her quiet confidence was a blessing beyond measure.

  “Isleif would be proud of you,” Y’arren said.

  The mention of her great-grandfather caused a slight ache in her chest, but the pain was lessening with time. Isleif had passed away peacefully in his sleep, and her grief for him followed a normal progression. But Raine had been wrenched violently from their world, and the anguish of that loss was undiminished. Only constant practice seemed to take away that sting.

  “Thank you,” Skye said, “I couldn’t do this without your help.”

  “You’re tired,” Idonea observed, “why don’t you go play on the archery range or something?”

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Skye said, and waved goodbye to Elyara who sat near the opening of her tent.

  “I would advise most to rest after s
uch exertion,” Y’arren said, watching the young woman walk away, “but that one needs activity right now.”

  “Archery is practically rest for Skye, she does it so effortlessly. Besides,” Idonea said, tilting her head to the side, “I think she’s about to get quite a bit of activity.”

  Y’arren nodded. She, too, had felt the presence of the one to whom Idonea referred. And in her wise, neutral way, she neither approved nor disapproved of the choices the Tavinter had made, simply hoped they would serve their purpose.

  “Ah, here she is,” Rika exclaimed, happy to see Skye approaching. The future First General brushed short brown hair from her eyes, her handsome features made even more appealing by her grin. Dallan, too, was glad to see Skye, and the dark eyes of the Ha’kan Princess flashed with pleasure.

  “Your bow is over here,” Dallan called out, having saved the lane next to them in case Skye made an appearance.

  “Thank you,” Skye said, picking up the weapon from the rack. She ran her fingers over the risers, appreciating the smooth curves and lines of her bow. The Tavinter were not a particularly large people and relied on stealth instead of brute strength. Because of that, they were exceptional archers, and none were as skilled as their young leader. The Tavinter bow was a cross between a long bow and a short bow, a compromise that would have reduced its effectiveness with less skilled archers. But the Tavinter exploited the design, able to fire as far and forcefully as with a long bow, yet nearly as quickly as with a short bow. Skye wasted no time in displaying such an ability, sending arrow after arrow down range with jaw-dropping accuracy. Rika grinned again, and Dallan just shook her head and resumed her training.

  Although completely focused, Skye became aware of someone standing near her. She glanced to her right to observe the incongruous sight of a stunning woman dressed in an elaborate red gown standing on the muddy training field. The ruby color of the dress offset her long white hair and pale, smooth skin, and Skye’s eyes were drawn to the cleavage pushed upwards by the tight bodice. She did not miss a beat, but continued to fire down range even with the distraction, sometimes not even looking at her target.

  “Hard to believe, with all your magical skill, you still play with these toys.”

  Skye swiveled her shoulders and fired an arrow directly at the woman, which should have impaled her through the heart. But it did not, as it was stopped in mid-air inches from those beautiful breasts.

  “And what is that for?” Ingrid said, brushing the arrow away as if it were a pesky fly.

  “You’re late,” Skye said. She had known the arrow would not touch Ingrid, for the sorceress possessed power rivaled only by that of Idonea.

  “I believe I’m early,” Ingrid said, glancing up at the sun. “The full moon will not rise for another few hours.”

  Skye fired another volley of arrows down range. “Where were you last month?”

  Ingrid was silent. The Tavinter still exasperated her with her unpredictability. She had thought the girl utterly predictable, and truly she had been most of her life as Ingrid had hunted her as prey, the consequence of a life-long blood feud between her and Isleif. But the girl had surprised Ingrid by offering her a truce, promising to spend every full moon with her, and allowing her to do whatever she wished to her during that interval.

  “I thought,” the sorceress said, “it might be appropriate to give you some time to grieve.”

  This statement finally brought Skye’s endless barrage of arrows to a halt. She looked over at Ingrid, a blackly humorous look on her face. This woman had kidnapped her, tortured her, taken away her memory, threatened her life, threatened her friends, kept her as a sexual toy, and regularly drank her blood to retain her youthful appearance. She did all of this in the name of revenge against the man whom she was now professing to give Skye the time to grieve. Even Ingrid seemed to sense the absurdity in this statement.

  “Well,” Ingrid said, “believe what you will. But it is the truth.”

  “The truth is,” Skye said, notching another arrow, “I would have enjoyed the company.”

  This was another thing that always put the sorceress off-balance. The girl was remarkably honest, a characteristic that normally she could exploit, but with the girl, only seemed to place her at a disadvantage.

  “Is everything all right?” Rika called out across the field to Skye. The appearance of the sorceress had attracted enormous attention from the surrounding Ha’kan, partially because she was a known enemy, and partially because her breasts were almost impossible to look away from.

  “Mind your business, Ha’kan,” Ingrid said irritably, and Rika only grinned.

  “I’m fine,” Skye said. She at last set her bow to the side and turned her full attention to the sorceress. Her eyes swept the curvaceous figure with an appreciation she did not bother to hide. A flush of color appeared on that pale skin.

  “Well,” Ingrid said coolly, “perhaps we can make up for last month’s absence by starting early.”

  Skye took her by the hand.

  “That would be acceptable.”

  Skye was tied spread-eagled to the bed, her restraints created by some infernal magic she had never seen before. Ingrid had taken quite an interest in the Ha’kan sexual toys, and was gifted in creating magical equivalents to them. When Skye had made the mistake of mentioning Kara, the future First Scholar who was known for wild sexual exploration, Ingrid determined to meet her. Skye was grateful that this consultation had yet to take place, for Kara had created some of the most inventive sexual gadgets ever known. Skye could not imagine their magical equivalent.

  She was, however, enjoying the magical equivalent of one of those devices right now, one that happened to have been sitting around. And Ingrid’s adoption of it was inspired, for it feathered the backside, penetrated deep on the inside, and allowed Ingrid’s mouth the freedom to travel where it willed. And it traveled the extent of Skye’s body, taking an extended amount of time until it settled between her legs and brought Skye to her first climax.

  Ingrid, surprisingly, was not a selfish lover. Self-centered in all her other pursuits, she took great pleasure in bringing Skye to orgasm. Perhaps it was because it gave her a sense of control; she did enjoy utterly dominating the young woman. Or perhaps it was because it heightened her own sexual pleasure. But Ingrid always ensured that Skye was satisfied.

  That was not to say she deferred her own gratification. No sooner had Skye climaxed, she modified the magical device so that it thrust up inside her, then rode the girl so hard it was a wonder Skye did not break in two. But Skye was hardy in bed, possessing a stamina that had been refined by years of living with the Ha’kan. And with those lovely, pink-tipped breasts bouncing above her head, those supple hips grinding against her own, it was not long before she climaxed again, carried away by the angry passion of the sorceress.

  Chapter 13

  There was some sort of celebration planned for Hel’s court, that much Raine had figured out. A strange energy hummed and throbbed throughout the underground palace. Servants scurried about with purpose. Arrangements were argued over, procedure was decided, an agenda was set. Food and drink were in abundance, music played quietly from an alcove. There was an air of anticipation.

  Raine had also figured out over time that “court” was a title used in multiple meanings. The Goddess of the Underworld did indeed sit in judgment of those who deserved punishment, but the throne room also acted as her royal court, a place for diplomacy and gathering. The celebration planned for the day was in Hel’s honor, and Feray took particular care in dressing Raine so that she looked even more stunning than usual. Her pants were black, her shirt and vest a deep royal purple, the same color as that of the trim on Hel’s black robes, and also the color of Raine’s eyes if they turned. And her eyes did turn when Hel entered, for the Goddess was gorgeous in her dark raiment, a fact that Raine noted with considerable discomfort.

&nb
sp; The court awaited the entrance of the Goddess, and many wagers were exchanged prior to her appearance. It had become a maxim amongst the regulars that they could instantly tell the mood of the Goddess by the position of the Arlanian when Hel entered the court. If Hel was in a good mood, Raine walked at her side, holding her hand upright in the position of escort. If Hel was in a foul mood, Raine walked several steps behind, sandwiched between Feray and Faen like a prisoner on her way to execution. Raine was not certain which position she preferred. The latter was humiliating, but the former emphasized the intimacy between them. It did not matter what Raine preferred, however, for it was the will of the Goddess that decided all.

  The court breathed easier when the Goddess appeared, for as her Majesty started down the stairs, the Arlanian was at her side. The expression on the face of the Arlanian was blank as she passed all with unseeing eyes, but she maintained her proper position with effortless grace. And when they reached the throne, Hel settled onto the cushioned seat, smoothed her robes, then indicated that Raine was to sit at her side. This brought a few titters in the very back of the immense room, and a few derisive observations that it was better the Arlanian was seated in the event she collapsed into unconsciousness again.

  The entertainment began and it ranged from the violently acrobatic to the blatantly sexual. The sexual acts did not interest Raine and her eyes did not vary from the pale blue to which they had stabilized. The swordplay did interest her, and she unconsciously opened and closed her hand with the desire to be holding a weapon. Hel observed the involuntary gesture, and the blue and gold markings that rose on the forearm. Remarkable that the carnality before the mortal was insufficient to bring forth the color in her eyes, but the swordplay brought out the Scinterian in her instantly.