Chapter Twenty-Two
The armor and chain mail were made specifically for him by Sulien the Smithy.
And the queen herself helped him into that armor, not allowing any of his siblings or squires to assist. That was their way, any time he was going off to war. But this time felt different. This time, Rhiannon feared—truly feared—she’d never see him again.
So Rhiannon took her time, placing each piece onto his dragon body with care.
The two suns were rising and soon Bercelak the Great would be flying out with his war-loving siblings and cousins to face the Zealots in the Outerplains.
With his armor in place, Rhiannon cut the length off his black-and-gray hair until it reached his shoulders, then plaited several war braids, entwining her own white hair into a few of them for luck.
They didn’t speak during all of this. There was nothing to say.
When their longtime ritual was complete, they stood at the exit to their chamber, Rhiannon’s white claw clasped in Bercelak’s black one. They gazed into each other’s eyes for several long minutes until Rhiannon finally said, “Kill all of them. Leave nothing for even the crows to dine upon.”
Bercelak stepped close, his tail entwining with hers while their snouts brushed against each other.
Then he was gone. Out of their chamber and through the throne room. His siblings joined him, with Ghleanna on his right and Addolgar, his left. The rest trailing right behind.
He didn’t look back at her. She didn’t want him to.
Instead Rhiannon sat on her throne and the Mì-runach immediately surrounded her. They would not leave her side until Bercelak returned.
Not surprisingly, no others of her court approached her the entire day.
* * *
At first Annwyl thought the noise she heard was in her head. Just something else to torment her. But the more north she traveled, the louder the sound became.
After ten minutes of walking, she found it. A giant animal, not quite as big as Fearghus and his brothers in their dragon form but ten times bigger than her. It was on its side, crying out.
She started to walk away. The thing had black eyes; big horns on its head, elbows, and knees; enormous claws; and spikes running down its tail. The flesh of something once human still caught on several of the tips. It also had extremely large fangs that didn’t fit completely in its mouth. This was not something she wanted to get too close to if it suddenly decided to get up or attack her. It was a demon animal of some kind and she still intended to get out of this hell alive.
But it kept screaming and something inside her couldn’t walk away. She didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she simply couldn’t do it.
So Annwyl turned around and went back. She moved in close and reached her hand out to pet its belly. The fur was hard, a few individual hairs sticking into her hand like splinters. But she ignored that and kept petting.
“Shhh,” she said. “It’s okay.” She studied the claws, looking for something that could be causing the animal pain, but they looked clean. Nothing between the pads either. She then checked its belly, chest, and groin. Still nothing.
“Come on, big boy. You’re fine. Nothing to cry about.”
Annwyl heard footsteps behind her and she turned to see a group of armed demons.
“Move!” one of them ordered. “It’s ours. We feast tonight.”
“He’s not even fighting. Fuck off.”
“Move or we’ll take you down with it.”
“Find something else to eat, demon.”
“It’ll eat you, human.”
Annwyl shrugged. “Probably.”
“Just move.”
“I can’t. I heard his pitiful cries and I . . . I just can’t.” She petted his stomach again. “He may be dying anyway. I can’t find any wounds. He’s clearly in distress. Maybe he’s just old. Why would you want to kill and eat something that’s old?”
The lead demon shook his head and the entire group began to back up. “It’s not old. It’s a baby.” He pointed behind Annwyl. “And you should run.”
Which was what the rest of them did. They ran.
But Annwyl couldn’t bring herself to move. Even as the ground shook beneath her feet and what she could only guess was the mother of the crying animal leaned her head around him and focused on Annwyl.
Annwyl stepped back, her gaze moving up to see the back of the mother as it towered over her offspring.
Then she moved to the side and saw more of the animals. This was a herd . . . that had come when they heard the youngest of their number crying for help. That’s what had drawn Annwyl. Just as her own children’s calls would pull her to them.
Of course, if Annwyl found some strange, armed woman standing over them . . . petting their stomachs . . . no. That would not end well. So probably not for her either.
The mother let out a threatening snort-snarl that had Annwyl quickly moving away. Then she nudged at her offspring until he got up. When he was on his feet, she pushed him toward the others of her herd before returning her gaze to Annwyl.
All Annwyl could think to do was raise her hands to show she meant no harm. “Sorry,” she said. “Just trying to help. Meant no offence.”
The mother leaned in close and sniffed Annwyl from head to foot and back again. Then she nudged her with her snout, sending Annwyl flying back about a hundred feet.
Annwyl hit the ground hard, but she didn’t complain. She saw that those fangs were much bigger than the babe’s. So the fact the mother didn’t bite her head off . . .
Annwyl pushed herself up until she was standing again and nodded at the She-beast.
“Thank you,” she called out. “For not killing me.”
Turning, Annwyl started back the way she’d come, but the beast made a noise and she glanced back, half-afraid she’d find it charging her. But it was moving its head to the side.
She changed direction and went where the She-beast indicated. Maybe this was the way out. Or just another entrance to another hell. Annwyl didn’t know. But why not try? It wasn’t like she had many choices at this point.
* * *
First there were only a few of them, watching her. But then more were drawn here from the other hells toward this place where they could look down from a high vantage point and watch what she did. Where she went. They’d all sensed her here, in this place. She was alive while they were all dead. It wasn’t fair and something they would not stand for.
She was always supposed to end up here, they all knew it, but it never occurred to them she’d end up here still alive . . . and vulnerable.
She headed away from the herd of corpse-eater cattle and they began to follow.
Because they’d waited long enough, lost in their brutal hells. And it was now her time to know suffering. To know true pain and horror.
Now she was here, and they could settle it.
Settle it and end it. For eternity.