16. Kami

16

Kami

T here's no warning.

Between one breath and the next, the five of us are dragged out of our room by magic and shoved down the hallway, following the other prisoners.

We're escorted by double the number of armed guards we had last night.

Which makes little sense because we're still stripped of offensive magic.

But whatever. Today our guards are outfitted in dress blue and gold uniforms with headbands to match.

House Ervan representing.

We're led out of the building and on a path toward Lake Lancer. It's been a while since I've been to the actual lake, having done much of my work with Ahza on the outskirts of the water.

Most of the wealthy and titled live near the lake, where the scent of life is rich and the shops and eateries cater to those with coin and House privilege.

I prefer the woods, to be honest. There's something untouched in the deepest heart of the forest, as if the Great Mother keeps her joyful secrets buried beneath root and grass.

The trees deeper in Lancer territory are old, their friendship one that must be earned.

My thoughts as we walk are on the wonder of this place. I'm surprised not to feel tired at all. Perhaps it's the fresh air, the marvel of nature all around us.

Or just being out of that shitty dungeon.

Still, the public lands are free of debris, the dirt-packed path firm and even. The shops and homes we pass are tended well and cared for.

Even here, in Lancer, the poor have standards. Not like the disenfranchised in many of the dumps Ahza and I have traveled, where those with little take no pride in anything they do.

Perhaps Rilitar is on to something by looking down on those who aren't fae.

And maybe I'm losing my freaking mind to agree with anything that elf thinks or does.

I'm shoved from the side and almost fall but end up bumping into Crash, who rights me.

Even angry, he's pretty hot.

So annoying.

He scowls at me. "Watch it."

"You watch it," I snap back.

Oz steps between me and Crash, who swears at him. "You okay?" The orc glares at the guard walking near us. "Prickless over there decided to fuck with you."

The guard grins. "Keep it up, Oz. I can't wait to watch them devour you." A darkness wavers around him, almost like an aura of cruelty.

I nearly trip over my own feet.

What the hell is going on that I keep seeing souls when I haven't been able to for years without concentrating ?

I feel like this has to do with my weird dreams lately. Vague memories that are more like a nightmare from the nightmare that's become my life.

We're nearly at the water now. The quaint village streets have cobblestone buildings and flowers all in bloom, the trees verdant and thriving like the many fae walking up and down the walks lining the street.

It's as pretty as a picture, with parents and children, young lovers, and friends congregating to smile and laugh, enjoying the togetherness.

So incongruous with the chants of death and sacrifice as we're paraded by the good people of Lancer to our doom.

"Fuckers," Ries mutters and flips off an elderly man smiling at us with good cheer. "Eat me."

Malkar chuckles. "Watch what you say. I'm sure more than a few of the upper class watching us would like nothing better. Mermen are a delicacy in some sections of world, you know."

"Wait. What?" Ries blinks at Malkar. "Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not. Merman Testicles, also known as Sea Balls, are a particular treat for those wanting an increased libido."

Ries grimaces. "Not a rumor then?"

"No. Might want to keep your legs together when not walking. Be a shame to lose all that game."

Crash snickers.

"Fuck off, fae." Ries glares.

"He's joking," I say.

"I'm not." Malkar shrugs. "Believe what you will."

Merman testicles? Ech. "Can we talk about something else?" I ask.

"No talking," one of the guards yells.

"So much for Sea Balls," Oz says, and despite myself, I laugh with the others—minus Ries, that is.

I glance at him, see him wink at me, and quickly look away .

Death help me, but that's one merman whose testicles I felt up close.

It's difficult not to see him and remember how good he felt inside me. How lovely he was with me, seeing to my pleasure.

I'm not sure if he did it to feed Malkar or just to make it better for me, but I'm grateful either way.

Especially because his spiritual energy quenched that ache I've lived with for so long. Being on the road with Ahza, we were always careful to keep my needs in check.

Being declared a necromancer outright means death. My need for spirit energy makes it obvious I'm more than dryad, and most people loathe monsters just as much as they hate necromancers.

Either way I'm looking at trouble if I'm found out.

Since hunger trumps being dead or imprisoned, I've always kept my feedings to a minimum.

But Ries is really, really strong. Spiritually at least. I wonder how powerful he'll be physically, now that I've given him the succor he needed.

I'd be happier about that fact if I didn't realize we need all our strength and effort focused on surviving these stupid games.

We reach the pier and are marched onto a large, flat ship powered by six baby kelpies. I can tell they're young because they're small, the size of small ponies and not the grand sea-stallions they will grow to be.

I'm staring at the windy waters as we're pushed off into the lake, heading toward the grand temple near Baphomet Tower, where the monarch and his demon live.

Strong hands wrap around my shoulders and drag me away from the masses.

"Hey," Ries snarls, but along with Oz, is quickly shoved back by guards .

A voice I could go my whole life not hearing gives a dark laugh as he spins me around. "There you are, pretty monster."

"You're even uglier in the light of day," I tell Enwiss, who grins as if he doesn't care but squeezes my shoulders hard enough to leave bruises.

"Enwiss, remember what I said." Rilitar comes from behind him, dressed in a fancy suit of blue and gold with an embroidered collar and new jewelry decorating his pointed ears.

He passes by with Folas at his heels.

I notice the narrowed gazes of my new allies and realize Folas is hated almost, if not more than, Rilitar.

Ever the dutiful son, Enwiss nods. "Of course, Father."

Rilitar waves at him before engaging with Folas on their walk to the prow, giving Enwiss the opportunity to lean down and whisper, "You're not going to die."

A glance behind me shows everyone glued to the byplay, so I make sure to keep my expression neutral. I refuse to give Enwiss the satisfaction of scaring the beheebies out of me.

"I'll make sure you survive." He squeezes harder. "So when you're back in Lancer, I'll get my chance to take my turn after Daddy gets to play."

He licks my ear then shoves me back at the others.

Some laugh while several prisoners, including Oz and Ries, swear and curse Enwiss to hell.

Not that hell would ever have him.

I wipe my ear and sneer back at the elf. "I take it back. I'm killing Enwiss then Rilitar."

"Get in line," Crash says.

"Whatever. Folas is mine," Malkar argues.

Ries frowns. "Fuck that."

The rest of us content ourselves by describing how best to kill Rilitar and all his men, which spreads to the other prisoners .

Until the guards zap a few to return us to silence.

Time passes, the only sounds the murmuring of Rilitar and his guards, the cries from sea birds, and the lapping of waves as the wind and the creatures deep underwater work the currents.

A few horrific sea beasts raise their heads to watch us over the waves.

One smiles at us, showcasing teeth the size of my body.

I step closer to my large allies.

We cruise nearer to the neutral zone in Sacred Lakes, the home of Goras Vamyar and his demon, Algraas.

Though the monarch's tower is some distance away, we're close enough that I can see the tower's grand spires. There are few trees around, mostly waving grasslands and fields of wildflowers where pink pixies gather blooms and spread pollen, along with their friends the bees.

The sky overhead is a clear blue, the sun welcoming as it shines upon us "favored," as Rilitar likes to refer to us.

I feel like cattle being led to slaughter as I wait with the others, standing on board the transport while a few sailors feed more chum to the kelpies to get them to move faster.

Laughter and bells reach my ears as we slow to dock at the monarch's pier.

There are festive banners and foils waving on poles, a joyful atmosphere for those of us soon to face death.

We're on the northern portion of the monarch's land and would normally need ground transport to make our way across King's Field to the Grand Temple.

And from there to the arena.

To the end.

But we're nothing more than offal to those who've imprisoned us.

So I walk along with the others, tucking myself between my taller companions for safety as we walk the long miles to the temple.

Along the way, the favored fae, those allowed to serve the monarch in the neutral zone, watch us go. The monarch's land is a rural expanse that's only interrupted by his tower and the small royal village directly surrounding it.

Out here, nature is worshipped by the fae's very absence.

Until we reach the temple.

It's a large building made of black stone with precise edges. All around the angled building stand statues of their war god in various poses.

He's mostly beheading, stabbing, and spearing monstrous forms as Beyrthnel welcomes all into the home of his grand shrine dedicated to war and chaos.

I fucking hate gods.

We enter the large sanctum through double doors made of faewood, copper, and onyx.

Filled with well-dressed fae sitting in wooden pews, the temple is packed. Its occupants face a man standing above the crowd in a grand pulpit.

Beside the pulpit, in the center of the front wall, is another statue of Beyrthnel, this one of the god staring out at his worshippers. Just a big old stone face made of gray lake rock, set to condemn with a look.

The pulpit is shaped like a blunted lance, the tip spearing into the floor. An older elf-looking fae with white hair braided at the temples stands with his six-fingered hands curled around the front of the podium.

His robe is red.

The color of blood, a favored hue of the war god, from what I've heard.

I've never been a fan of his. Of all the fae gods, I probably like Caethybdue the most. But then, she's a fae goddess of death. I admit, I'm a little biased.

But I don't mention her much. Really, what has she ever done for me?

A big fat nothing, that's what.

Crash pokes Malkar. "Hey, see the old guy's braids? Your fashion statement is catching on."

"Shut up."

"Just saying."

A few guards glare us into silence.

Then it's just us tributes standing in a line between two sections of pews while the worshippers bob their heads in a bow toward their stone god, chanting in high fae.

Malkar and Ries scowl. Oz wears a blank expression that's telling in itself.

I have no idea what's being said, but the pall over the room is more than a little scary.

As is the godly presence taking shape on that stone god's face.

The statue blinks and smiles at us.

People gasp, some cry out in praise. At the very front, I spot the monarch and his demon bowing with deference.

And damn me, but the sight of an actual light elf steals my breath before I remember to hate him like I hate the others oppressing me.

"What the fuck?" Oz mutters and takes a step back, moving me behind him.

But I swear the stone god spotted me for a second before he—it?—laughs in a multitude of pitches.

In a loud voice, he adds, "Ah, yes. You are all destined for greatness in your sacrifice, my tributes. A glorious demise to you all."

To my shock, in my head I hear, "And you especially, Daughter of Death."