Destiny's Queen 14

 

Chapter 14

 

 

Phaedros followed the thread of power to the side of the old temple to Selen. Doubtless there were many subterranean levels which Harkon had not entirely destroyed with his whirlwind passage out, in the part occupied by the worshippers of Aima.

“Who goes there?” a pair of rough-looking men stepped forward.

“I heed the call of the blood queen,” said Phaedros, dreamily.

“Who is that with you?”

“My body slave will see to my apparel whilst I satisfy the blood queen’s needs,” said Phaedros.

They regarded him. Rynn hung back, and kept her eyes lowered, dropping to the squat which was the position of submission of trógling.

“He’s pretty enough,” said one of them.

“I’ll show him to the high priest,” said the other.

Rynn followed as Phaedros was led forward. A building had been erected, probably using the labour of Nekrosti, and they were led inside. Rynn worshipped Kaz as well as Alethos, and made use of the spell to merge with shadows, which would make her almost completely ignored. There were a lot of shadows in the temple to Aima, and Rynn followed down several flights of steps, managing to slip through doors before they were closed behind her. She knew from Alethosian teachings that powerful bloodsuckers could put out a call of hunger and attract the weak minded to them; and not always the weak minded, if others were caught unawares.

They went into a luxurious suite of rooms where Rynn sensed undead, and fought to keep herself under control; here was the chief priest in candlelit splendour, the lighting doubtless for the convenience of the human servants and initiates. Several chained girls were reclining on the bed and sofas. They looked half drugged, and probably were. Rynn was careful to stay merged with the shadows and move slowly and with deliberation when the high priest bloodsucker looked away; he probably would not be fooled as human eyes would be.

“This one has felt our goddess’s hunger and longs to offer himself to her,” said the human.

“So young and full of blood, so fair, so lively,” murmured the vampire, cupping Phaedros’s face in his hand. “Oh, not a devotee to the joys of two snakes, eh? Well, perhaps if the Blood Queen finds him vigorous enough, she might share him before finishing him. I will take him through; you may go.”

Rynn was much relieved.

Following the bloodsucker would be easier than crossing the room under his eye.

 

If the bloodsucker’s apartment was sumptuous, that of his goddess made it look plain. Crimson velvet hung in drapes everywhere, and on the floor was a carpet of silk, in black with red roses. Golden roses and caryatids held the drapes, and a goblet shaped like an opened rose stood on a side table.

“You have brought me a most worthy gift, Antonax,” purred Aima, regarding Phaedros intently. “And he is not unpowerful so he will last better than some.” Phaedros was hiding most of his power by having placed a reserve on the godplane, in the way many gods used when wanting to interact with mortals, so as not to overwhelm them. Aima was not bothering to subdue her aura, but used it to intimidate and fascinate. Rynn fought it; she was used to being in the presence of more powerful deities than Aima, after all.

The bloodsucker bowed deeply, and withdrew. Aima regarded Phaedros. She was beautiful, with white skin, dark red hair, and red lips. The red eyes were more disturbing, but her pupils were large, making them seem merely dark.

“You may undress,” she said to Phaedros,  in a husky voice.

Phaedros undressed. It was part of the plan, as all his skin could glow, and the more available to glow, the better. Rynn admired his body as he revealed it; she had seen it in the bath house before, but this time, he was undressing carefully, for effect. Aima moved aside the blood red robe she wore, revealing herself naked underneath it. Her body was full, and lush, and rounded.  Phaedros managed an appropriate reaction, and Rynn suppressed a growl. There would be no point if he could not manage to act appropriately.

Phaedros was struggling. The damned woman was hypnotic! He had achieved a reaction by thinking about Rynn, as he did not find the Blood Queen especially appetising, but her voice, the scent she exuded, the power control were all making him dizzy. He was supposed to do something.

There was a sharp pain in one foot, and Phaedros shook his head as he came back to himself with Rynn biting one toe.

And he glowed. The dark sultry chamber became filled with daylight. Achingly, pure daylight.

And Aima screamed.

The door opened, and the bloodsucker rushed in, and screamed in pain and terror to be met with pure sunlight, the scream bubbling in his throat as his body dessicated and fell to dust in the brightness of Phaedros’s glow.

“That’s the way to do it!” crowed Rynn. “First time you’ve ever killed an enemy with your bum!”

Phaedros managed a chuckle as he reached for Aima’s throat with his glowing hands. Rynn’s sword burst into flame as she came to support him, thrusting it into the goddess’s heart, feeling it quiver against the burning iron of her sword.  Aima screamed, and Rynn handed Phaedros a knife, which he used to cut off her head. She was no longer beautiful, but like a thing of melted wax; but her spirit hurled itself on Phaedros in fury. Rynn could use her magical blade to distract the vengeful deity’s spirit, but Phaedros was the only one close to being a match, linking with his stored power to boost his own kormajaia to try to destroy her being, so that she could never reform on the god-plane even over long years. He slipped out of his body, trusting Rynn to guard it, as he clung to the spirit of the blood queen. Phaedros had come a long way from the rather naive, helpless demigod who had been so gently laughed at by the group around Kaz that he had joined, some years previously; he was now a hard-bodied warrior, who knew how to attack with his will in spirit form as well. Phaedros was accustomed to box and wrestle with Alethos; and he did not hold back.

 

oOoOo

 

“Daze! Do something! Aima is under attack by the son of Pollonis!” shrieked Selen.

“Oh, don’t worry about that fatuous fool,” said Daze. “I told you, I assumed the form of Pollonis to fool his mother and made sure he was not taught well. I had his tutors drawn from those who use all the old forms and posturing in swordplay, not the modern forms.”

“What do you mean, Daze? What modern forms? Is it true what Thanos was whining about, then, that the way of fighting has changed?”

“Oh, yes, these humans are pretty inventive. I don’t know how it works though; why would I care? If he became too efficient, you might have noticed him more than me. But Phaedros is no threat, he was mocked by the Alethosi, and no demi-god would take that without despising them.”

“Oh, no, of course not. That was foolish of them – arrogant bastards that they are, but there’s always been a rivalry between them and the sunspears. I suppose he’s attacking Aima to try to make a name for himself to show up the Alethosi. Well, even if he destroys the body she’s using she will rip him to shreds spiritually, and maybe she will then be able to use his sun powers to give her people immunity to the rays of the sun,” said Selen, diverted. “That would really be an advantage if our bloodsuckers could work in daylight!”

 

oOoOo

 

Phaedros was grimly aware that if Aima got the upper hand, his destruction by her spirit could hand her a weapon which would make her and her bloodsuckers ten times more deadly than they already were, and that this was the fight of his life. And it was hard. He was more powerful than he had been when he had first set out into the world, confident that as a demigod, he would be able to show the party he was to work with a thing or two; and his embarrassment at the foolish youth he had been was something he had lived down and accepted as part of the learning process. Phaedros had learned to take loving teasing from friends, and to improve himself accordingly. And that meant attacking Aima judiciously, not charging in bull-headed. He worked on testing her spirit defences, rather than overreaching himself, boxing small, always on his guard. Aima had protective spirits around her, also attacking him, small irritations, but as Kaz said, the best warrior in the world can be nibbled to death by an excess of mice.

Watching, Rynn was worried, spirits moved so fast, she was afraid to use her sword in case of hitting Phaedros. She cast mining cantrips on her finger nails to gouge but still, it was not enough.  She shut the door and locked it, removing the key, and made the stone surround creep forward, preventing the door from being easily battered inward. She had not separated her spirit from her body before, but she had seen it done, so she lay down, and eased her essence out of her body.

And then she was in the spirit world with Aima and Phaedros, and sundry protective spirits also attempting to attack her beloved. It seemed that believing in her fingernails being strong and sharp worked in the spirit world too, and she chased away the supporting spirits; and then dug her fingernails deep into Aima.

The blood queen shrieked at this extra attack. Rynn grabbed one of her pseudo-arms and cast the cantrip ‘wring’ to twist it. There were no counters to laundry cantrips, which had not been designed as offensive spells; it was merely a question of Rynn’s will overcoming that of Aima’s. And Rynn’s will was grimly firm in protecting the man she loved.

Aima attempted to bite; even as a spirit, her bite could drain essence from a foe.

Phaedros, nothing loth to use any and all means, bit her back. Only instead of going for her neck, he bit her nose. Aima flailed, wildly.

“Glow, Phaedros; you can still glow!” said Rynn.

Phaedros held his grip on Aima’s nose hard, and let himself glow.

It worked. And Aima screamed as the purity of a spirit of light burned her chaos and evil.  It was a rather nasal scream. Rynn raked her back, and dug in her finger nails, reaching round Aima’s head to stick them in the goddess’s eyes, and tear them out, thrusting into the seat of her thought.

And then, it was virtually over. Phaedros reached into Aima’s essence to burn the seat of her undead power, destroying the glyph that was a part of her being, directing Rynn to rip out the glyphs of death and fertility which gave immortality. He wanted nothing of the dying goddess for himself, being immortal already, save to prevent her from returning.  But that meant that he and Rynn between them must consume every part of her power.

It took time, and Aima fought bitterly for her existence, trying to break away from the two implacable spirits, who would not let her go.

“Please!” she cried.

“How many poor souls pleaded with you as you drained them dry?” said Rynn. Phaedros had wavered, but this hardened him. Beauty was not always truth or goodness. And finally, with a thin scream, Aima’s spirit disintegrated.

Two weary young people collapsed back into their bodies, lying on the preposterous crimson-covered bed.

Rynn kissed Phaedros.

“Darling, I love you, but not here,” said Phaedros. “It would soil us.”

“Good point,” said Rynn. “What about the women?”

“I’ll call in Cousin Thyella; part of her portfolio is women who have been hurt who are finding themselves,” said Phaedros.

“Perfect,” said Rynn. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s bound to be a kitchen for the human initiates,” said Phaedros, getting up and starting to dress. “If I glow as we go, it’ll take care of any undead, and we kill everyone else as we go, get something to eat, and go join Harkon in the new temple to Alethos.”

“And fortified with food we can take out more bloodsuckers and the temple spirit,” said Rynn, happily.

“You Alethosi!” laughed Phaedros. “Yes, it makes sense. Oh, and you’ll have to let us out.”

“Oh, yes,” said Rynn. “I hear hammering on the door. You glow, and I’ll hit people with my burning sword, and then we go looking for the kitchens.”

Those hammering on the door turned out to be some human initiates backed up by nekrosti; but the nekrosti were moving slower, and in an unco-ordinated way. The magic which held their bodies together was failing since the passing of the goddess whose power made them, and they were imbued only with what the human or bloodsucker creators had given them, the least part of their makeup. Rynn abjured them with Alethosian spell, and, already damaged, they fell into dust. The humans tried to flee, but did not get far.

“Thyella!” called Phaedros. “Come and rescue these women!”

Thyella turned up with the inevitable smell of ozone.

“Goodness, Phae, this is not the sort of place your mother would like you frequenting,” she teased.

“Funnily enough, I find myself entirely unmoved by that thought,” said Phaedros. “See you around; we’re looking for the kitchens.”

Thyella sniggered.

“They’re so very young,” she murmured, before releasing the bloodsucker’s captives, and taking them back to the temple of Latrika.

It seemed the easiest thing to do.

 

“What will happen to the bloodsuckers?” asked Rynn.

“As I understand it, when they reach glyph level, they ritually commit suicide, and Aima binds their souls back into their bodies.  And at the full moon they have to feed, though they may feed at other times; but their ability to convert blood to maintain their bodies is essentially a glyph-spell which she is no longer going to power, so they are going to start to decay.”

“So, we’re still going to have to kill them in the meantime?”

“Yes, but not until we’ve eaten some of the beef which is on that spit,” said Phaedros, as they found the kitchens. “You lot! You’re free to go, now get the hell out of here!” he barked at the servants. “You can serve yourselves a meal first,” he added, compassionately, “As long as there’s plenty for us too.”