Anna Stephens - Bloodchild

Heat pulsed around her, fingers of hot air stroking her now naked skin. Ahead, a shadow loomed among the stalactites of the Waystation, massive and misshapen. He was supposed to come to them, not her to Him. It wouldn’t work here. It had to be the temple. It had to be. Gosfath’s bellow brought her thoughts to a crashing halt and ignited her tongue.

‘As we call to the gods in times of pain and terror, so They take as Their due our blood and breath,’ she chanted. There was no time to worry about what had gone wrong; Lanta was in the presence of the Red Father. ‘As fear brings us to the gods’ presence, I welcome you. Fear is your call; devotion is our answer.’

Fear indeed, as the darkness parted to reveal Him sitting on a throne carved from the bones of a mountain. Or perhaps it was a mountain of bones. He rose, head bowed to avoid the cavern’s high vault, and stepped down, the black talons on one huge hand skirling across the wall, gouging lines, striking sparks, the noise an unholy screech that made Lanta’s eardrums flutter. She dropped to her knees and looked away as He shrank, a giant still but of a size she could comprehend now. Half her height again, three times her weight, muscles rippling like eels in oil.

‘Lord Gosfath, God of Blood, most mighty Lord of War and chaos, I am honoured by your presence, and honour you in turn with—’

‘Want,’ the God of Blood hissed, hauling her to her feet with one hand wrapped around her upper arm. ‘Want now.’

‘Your Sister wants you too, Father,’ Lanta gasped, raising her hands in a barrier as effective as a spider’s web. ‘The Dark Lady yearns for your arms around Her, Father, She yearns for you. We must find Her, bring Her back to you and this world, restore the balance—’

Gosfath leant close. ‘Alone,’ He grunted and flung her down. ‘ Want .’

Lanta cried out as her head struck stone, again as Gosfath threw Himself on top of her, and then screamed as His talons and then His fat red cock dug their way inside her, screamed in an agony so close to ecstasy she understood they were the same. Screamed as the god honoured her.

Lanta woke with a wail of mingled pain and exaltation, her consciousness slamming back into her body where it lay in abandon on the temple floor, her head pillowed on Gull’s knees and her skirts cast up around her legs. She exhaled a long, drawn-out moan as her hurts made themselves known in a rush that rippled through her body from the back of her head to her ankles.

She gestured with scabbed fingers and carefully, so carefully, Gull undid her gown and peeled it down to her waist. Among the black god-stains and disappearing beneath her breast band, her skin was hatched with cuts, claw marks, bite marks, and at her core throbbed a deep ache that spiked into pain with every movement.

Lanta looked down at herself and a slow smile spread across her face at the ruin of her flesh. She placed one hand between her legs. ‘The god honoured me,’ she whispered. Tears started in her eyes.

‘Then we have taken the first step,’ Gull replied. ‘The next time, you must draw Him here rather than go to the Waystation. We must be able to bring Him through the veil if the Dark Lady is to return.’

Lanta forced herself to sit up, groaning against the flare deep within her pelvis. Next time? Even if she could go through this again, there was no saying that Holy Gosfath would come through the veil and into the temple. Not next time, maybe not ever. She breathed through the pain and pushed her doubts aside. It would work. He would understand and He would help them. He would be rewarded, first with Lanta to appease and comfort Him, and then by the restoration of His Sister-Lover.

It would work.

Gull scooted around to face her, put his hands on her shoulders, reverence lightening his features. ‘This is monumental, Blessed One,’ he said. ‘We have made great progress here today. No one has ever communed with the god so … thoroughly.’

‘Great progress, yes,’ she said, ‘but I will need time to heal before I call Him again. His desire and loneliness were so great, you can see what it has done to me.’

‘And yet time begins to run short. Perhaps some of the slave women could be trained to pleasure the Father until Mireces women arrive,’ Gull mused.

Lanta’s guts twisted, not in pain this time. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘It must be me. Only me. I am the Blessed One and this is my task, my holy purpose. I will see it done. I will bring the Father to Rilporin, to this very temple. He will come and we will make Him a beacon to guide the Dark Lady home.’

I have known the love of the Father. May it sustain me until our Bloody Mother is brought back.

‘Come, let us get you to a warm bath and then the healer. You have done great work.’

‘It is only the beginning,’ Lanta stuttered as Gull helped her stand, the pain shortening her breath. ‘For the rest we need Rillirin and the bairn. We have to have her, Gull.’

‘I will speak to the king on your behalf, Blessed One,’ Gull soothed her. ‘I will inform him of our progress, of the urgency, the need, to find his sister. You should concentrate only on the god for now, on encouraging Him to leave the Afterworld and the Waystation and visit His worshippers here. Visit you.’

She paused, tightening her grip on her priest’s supporting arm and then hissing as the blisters on her palm ruptured. ‘He said He was alone, Gull,’ she whispered, and her tears this time were of sorrow. ‘It broke my heart.’

‘You will soothe him, Blessed One, and tend to His divine needs as often as you are able. We must explain all we are doing to return His Sister-Lover to Him. Once He understands, it may be that His demands are less … onerous.’

Lanta’s ice-blue eyes frosted over and she pushed away to stand unaided. ‘No task performed in service of the gods is ever onerous,’ she grated. Gull dipped his head in silent apology. ‘I will rest and sleep, take herbs for these wounds. Our great work begins now. All that has come before is as nothing.’

Seventh moon, first year of the reign of King Corvus

Seer’s Tor, Krike

Despite the presence of the southern war leader and her warriors, the reception for the Rilporians at Seer’s Tor, Krike’s capital, was less than friendly.

Warriors picked up their approach when they were still a few miles out and by the time the group had reached the outskirts of the great circular town with the tor rearing from its centre, the Warlord’s honour guard were ranged across the main road and the gates were shut tight.

‘There’s something very wrong here,’ Dom muttered to Crys as they walked steadily towards the line of warriors barring their way. He rubbed tenderly at his right eye. ‘Very, very wrong. Be careful.’ He hissed in pain and stumbled and Ash caught him under the arm, helped him along a few strides until he found his balance again.

Crys didn’t miss that Ash let go as fast as he could. Dom didn’t miss it either. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me?’ he asked the calestar. Dom blinked, surprised and pleased to be spoken to. Grateful just to be acknowledged. A twist of shame rose up Crys’s throat even as his palms dampened in animal instinct at the man’s proximity.

‘Things will not be as they seem. Truth and lies entwine like mating snakes and faith broken and put back together is stronger than faith forgotten and remembered.’ He stopped walking, stopped talking, his neck stretching long and to one side, blank brown eyes staring into the future. Crys and Ash got ready to catch him, but after long moments he came back to them and was still himself.

‘All right?’ Crys put his hand on Dom’s back. ‘Do you need some time?’