Earth's Requiem(102)
“No more.” Disappointment ran beneath Dewi’s words.
Craning her neck, Aislinn realized Bal’ta had stopped racing out to the slaughter. Either they were all dead, or Slototh, recognizing a frontal attack wasn’t working, had called them back. Dewi circled lazily. They watched the four companies regroup and start toward an archway leading inside.
“Looks like we’re back to Plan A,” Aislinn said. “Put me down so I can go with them.”
“From a military perspective, it would be better for us to stand guard out here. That way we could pick off—”
“You are more than capable of doing that without me,” Aislinn broke in, her voice cold. “I asked nicely for you to land so I can get off. If you don’t, I’ll pull magic and jump to the ground.”
The dragon’s body heated beneath her legs. Aislinn figured she was royally pissed, but at least they were losing altitude. They connected with the ground so hard that Aislinn’s teeth clanked together. She waited for Dewi to reach back for her, decided the dragon wasn’t going to make it easy, and worked her way down, catching both skin and clothing on scales. Dewi hadn’t been kidding when she’d warned that wasn’t a good way to dismount. The closer Aislinn got to the ground, the sharper the scales got.
She surveyed the cuts on her hands. They weren’t deep, but they stung. To minimize further damage, she jumped the last four feet, landed in a tuck, rolled to her feet, and sprinted after the tail end of one of the companies just disappearing into the prison. Fionn and Rune were nowhere in sight. Maybe she’d find them inside. She knew better than to use her mind voice to call. If one of them was sore pressed in battle, that single moment where their thoughts diverted to her might mean their death.
The terror she’d locked in a corner of her mind wanted out. She stuffed it untidily back away. Not now. Her mouth was dry, but she didn’t have time to get water from her rucksack. She passed under the archway and scanned a large interior room, blinking in the dim light. It seemed she was alone. Which way had everyone gone? How the hell had they cleared out so fast?
Feeling an off-key vibration low in her spine, she warded herself and spun hard to one side. Something was targeting her, but what? Christ! After all my big talk to Dewi, how could I not have warded myself? Breath rattled in her chest. She pivoted her head from side to side, Mage senses wide open. If she was the only one here, who was trying to kill her? Aislinn looked harder, using tricks Fionn and Dewi had taught her.
There. In that corner. Like the Bal’ta, but more so, sat a blackness that swallowed everything. Impossibly high, not far from what had to be a ten-foot ceiling, a pair of red eyes glowed. Whatever it was, its head must be huge, since the eyes were a foot-and-a-half apart. Aislinn bit back panic. She swallowed hard and wondered if it was Slototh. Then she knew it had to be. For some unknown reason, he’d let everyone else race past him. She eyed one of three openings at the far end of the room and then looked back at the door she’d come through, but the dark god moved and blocked her egress that way.
Pulling invisibility, she sidled away from him.
“I can still see you.” Laughter, deep and raucous, filled the air.
Fear sank sharp teeth into her belly. She ran for the far end of the room, lungs on fire with effort. Almost there. Not much more. The doorway she’d been heading toward slammed shut in her face, and she skidded to a halt, panting.
Okay. Escape isn’t an option. Turning, she faced the spot that drew darkness. “What do you want with me?”
“I could ask you the same thing, human. Why am I suddenly host to four Celtic gods, a dragon, and humans, all hell-bent on destroying me?”
She drew herself up tall. “Because we want you to go back to the world you came from before the Surge.”
More laughter. The temperature in the room plummeted. Ice chips rattled down on her. She wrapped her arms around herself trying to keep warm, trying to think. Because Slototh was the god of filth, she’d expected rancid odors, slime, and debris. Maybe Gwydion had made a mistake, and this was one of the others.
“You got it right the first time,” Slototh said once he’d stopped laughing. “I am the god of all that is discarded. Filth and slime are common misperceptions. Why, I even have some things of yours,” he added slyly.
“Like what? How could you possibly have anything of mine?”
“Try your hopes and dreams. The ones that shattered three years ago. I have the future you had hoped for. Your husband and the children that will never be.” He made a snuffling sound that might have been a chuckle. “I have everyone’s, of course, but I have enjoyed yours far more than most. What a treat that you have delivered yourself to me. You have saved me a great deal of trouble finding you.”