David Dalglish - Blood Of Gods

The caverns were mostly quiet when Laurel, Lyana, Pulo, and the rest who had helped them flee the temple descended the stone staircase. They had fled through the wood, seemingly blind, the fear of being mauled from behind by the Judges making every shadow in Laurel’s vision become threatening. But luck was with them, and they returned to the Black Bend without further incident. Only time would tell if those who had stayed behind would arrive as well.

Laurel shook her head. They were dead already, and she knew it.

She glanced at Pulo as they entered the caverns, his normally tanned flesh appearing pale and clammy in the sparse torchlight. His body was raked with slashes and gouges from Lilah’s claws, and he had lost copious amounts of blood. Both Lyana’s wrappings and Laurel’s tattered whore’s garb were covered with it as well. Together, the two women guided the injured man and those who carried him toward the cave that Harmony had once called home. The large former Sister had kept a bevy of salves and healing herbs among her belongings, and now, being dead, she would have no need for them any longer.

Laurel’s spirits sank even lower at the thought. Her staunchest supporter, the mighty Giant, was gone. A part of her wanted to lash out at Lyana for disobeying her order and following them, but she knew that was folly. She and Pulo would be dead if they hadn’t. I will remember you always, Harmony, she told the dank cavern air, and then pushed those thoughts from her mind to focus on their next step.

After leaving Pulo in the care of Lyana and those who knew better than she how to deal with the injured man, Laurel snatched up one of her young companion’s daggers, straightened herself, and began marching through the snaking caverns. For a brief moment she considered going to her own private grotto and changing her clothes, but decided against it. She was an open wound now and would be seen as such. She clutched the dagger tightly, turning it over and over in her hand, feeling its weight.

She remembered Joben’s words: “. . the caverns beneath the Black Bend hold no safety for your fellow blasphemers. . ”

The constant bruises, the flayed strips of skin, the mysterious contact within the castle. It was all too obvious to her who had betrayed them.

She entered the large central hub, and sure enough, there was King Eldrich Vaelor, sitting at the long table and nursing a cup of some sort of alcoholic beverage. The gaunt king never slept when she was out of the caverns, his concern for her growing by the day. Karl Dogon was with him, the bodyguard looking worse for the wear, with his arm in a sling and his face mottled with bruises. His sword rested on the table before him, still in its sheath. Vaelor’s gaze lifted to Laurel at the sound of her entrance, and his eyes bulged in their sockets. She didn’t know whether he was reacting to her scant clothing or the sight of blood drenching her, but it didn’t matter. She stepped up to the table and slammed her fist down on it, making the gaunt king flinch. She tapped the tip of the dagger against the table. Dogon’s eyes found hers, looking tired yet surprised. It was on the bodyguard that she focused her attention.

“Why did you do it, Karl?”

Vaelor tilted his head at her and squinted, but said not a word. Neither did Dogon.

“You told them everything. From the beginning. Why?”

King Vaelor seemed puzzled, his eyes flitting from Laurel to Karl and back again. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Laurel peered at the king. “They knew we were coming, my Liege. The Judges were waiting for us. They know about the caverns. I’m sure they even know we’ve been gathering people here.” She pointed an accusatory finger at the bodyguard. “All because of him .”

Eldrich pushed himself away from the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the stone. “This cannot be right.” The king gawked at his longtime guardian. “Tell her this isn’t true.”

Karl Dogon chuckled. It was deep and throaty, and in a way he almost sounded relieved.

“With all due respect, my Liege,” he said, “you’re an idiot.”

The man stood up sharply, kicking his chair so that it tumbled and crashed behind him. He pressed the knuckles of his left hand into the table and leaned forward, squinting at Laurel. She took a single step back, holding the dagger out before her. I am the daughter of Cornwall Lawrence. I will show no fear. Yet she still couldn’t stop from glancing at the sword on the table, inches from the large man’s knuckles. She should have thought to bring Lyana with her.

“You were supposed to protect the king,” she said, summoning her strength, “not betray him.”

“You understand nothing,” said Karl. His gaze lingered on hers. “I’ve always protected my king, and always shall.”

“Then why give our secrets away?”

The man laughed, winced, and shook his head. “Secrets? We have no secrets, girl. The priest knew about the caverns from the start. Joben grew up a child of the Bend. He knew it was the most logical place for us to go when we fled.”

“When were you planning to turn on your king?” asked Laurel, waving the dagger before her.

“Never,” Karl declared.

“Bullshit.”

Karl scowled at her. “Eldrich was never in danger. I love my king, no matter how foolish he may be. The pact was long ago sealed, back before Karak marched his army into Paradise. How else do you think we could have escaped the throne room when the Judges and Sisters attacked? Do you really think that Joben would fail to leave the only other exit out of Tower Honor unguarded? The only reason we lived was because Joben allowed it .”

King Vaelor gaped at him.

“It was all for you, Eldrich,” the man said, turning to the king and dropping to a knee before him, his face twisting in pain as he moved. “We were raised as brothers after your father brought me out of the gutters. Never once would I allow harm to come to you. That is why I have done what I have done.”

“I still don’t know what it is you’ve done,” the king said.

“He’s signed our death warrants,” declared Laurel.

“Yours, perhaps.” Karl glared at her. “But not yours, my Liege. You were to be protected, no matter the outcome. You may not have been allowed your station, but you were to be allowed to live .”

“And the others?” Eldrich asked.

“Fuck the blasphemers,” spat Karl. “They’re the useless fodder of gods and lions. It is to you I’ve pledged my life, not them.”

“That’s it,” said Laurel, and both the king and Dogon glanced over at her. “That is why they haven’t assailed us even though they knew where we are. They were waiting for us to collect all of those who turned against Karak’s law.” She looked at the king, saw the horror in his eyes. “We haven’t been building a rebellion, my Liege. We’ve been packing a slaughterhouse.”

Dogon opened his mouth as if to retort, shut it again, and then moved for his sword. Even wounded and with his sword arm in a sling, he was still as quick as could be when he snatched the hilt with his left hand and flicked the scabbard aside. Laurel backed up a step and hunkered down, the dagger shaking in her hand. She was half Karl’s size. Even as hurt as he was, if he decided she needed killing, she was a dead woman.

Yet Karl didn’t move from behind the table. Instead, he gawped at her, his eyes watering and his lips trembling. A thin trickle of red liquid dribbled out the corner of his mouth. Laurel glanced to the left and saw the wrapped leather handle of King Eldrich’s knife sticking out the side of Dogon’s neck. In a violent motion, Eldrich swung his arm outward, showering the table with blood as Karl’s throat tore open. The man fell backward, clutching at the gushing wound, kicking so hard that he almost upended the table. King Vaelor took a step away from him, bloody knife still in his hand, a look of dejection on his gaunt mug.