Forged by Greed (49 page)

Jatred hacked at an arm of a snarling Mahraset with his Roman Gladius
sword. He ducked away when the monster’s other arm swung in his direction.
 
A roar of pain tore from the beast’s throat,
ending with a wet gurgle when one of Tyrrell’s short Spartan swords stabbed its
neck. Jatred and his uncle exchanged a brief glance. Tyrrell wielded two identical
swords, mercilessly slashing and stabbing, cutting a path through the vast sea
of green beasts.

For every creature that fell, there was immediately another one,
pressing on to take its place in the fight. Those that collapsed were instantly
swallowed by the ground, with a sickening noise of sucking and bubbling, as if
the land was a violence-thirsty monster itself.

Many Shifters were wounded, bleeding, but healing quickly. Only
those who received mortal wounds were lost. Their Spirits were rising from the
bodies and disappearing into the air. The corpses of the fallen were
immediately lifted by an unseen power and followed their Spirits to the Winter
Realm.

Huge snowflakes started to fall from a cloudless sky, and the
temperature rapidly dropped. The soil froze, and the sucking and bubbling
sounds ceased. In the middle of the battlefield a gust of icy wind lifted a cloud
of snow from the ground. It grew, swirling it into a tube of iridescent snowflakes.
The warriors of both parties moved out of its way. The tube broke open, and the
snow fell in sheets to the ground.
 
Crystal in her Celtic goddess, Morrigan,
form stepped forward, emanating power mixed with beauty.

She threw off her black-feather cloak, revealing
two wide
swords strapped to her back. The tops of the hilts
bulged over her shoulders. She reached back with remarkable speed and, raising
the weapons above her head, slid them out to the sides. The swords made a
high-pitched metallic screech when their surfaces glided against each other.

Morrigan swirled around, driving her swords through the attacking
Mahrasets. Dark green blood sprayed from the closest ones, staining the snow in
an ugly slime. The ground then awakened, and swallowed the bodies of the slain
monsters with a now-familiar sucking and bubbling sound.

A sudden, unexpected heat wave swept over the
field, melting the snow and ice. The frozen solid ground started to fracture in
an irregular mosaic of geometrical shapes. The edges of each shape quickly
lifted and curled upwards, cracking some more and revealing several inches of dry
brown soil below.

Behind Morrigan’s soaring frame materialized an
equally tall and a very slim woman with the head of a lion
—Amber in the form of the
Egyptian goddess, Bastet.
 
Her narrowed feline eyes swept over
the battle field, stopping at Morrigan’s face.
She smiled viciously, exposing close-packed, sharp
teeth.

The army of Summer Shifters appeared behind
Bastet, their weapons at ready. The Spirits of the Summer Realm in their
ghostly forms floated above and around their warriors. Jasmira, looking older
than her almost-seventeen years, stood in the first row, her long jet-black
hair braided in a simple plait. She held an ancient Greek Hoplite sword, leaf-shaped,
roughly two feet long. Penelope, standing next to Jasmira, wielded a small,
curved Karambit blade in one hand and a Japanese Kodachi sword in the other.

“She doesn’t expect us to fight the Winter
Shifters, does she?” Penelope incredulously asked Jasmira with her mind,
keeping the mental shield up.

Jasmira turned to her friend and said, “There is
no way I could do that. But look, they are fighting the Summer Mahrasets. Maybe
we can just help them?”

“I think we would totally piss off the lion-head girl.”
Penelope’s eyes darted to the imposing figure of Bastet. The first line of the
Summer Shifters stood over twenty feet behind the Goddess, her back to them.
 

The corners of Jasmira’s lips lifted in a small
smile, which quickly disappeared. Her eyes widened as her vision
went colorless again. She saw everything in black and gray and felt
a familiar salty taste in her mouth. Her hand automatically flew to her chest,
to touch the Dasht-e Kavir hidden under her shirt. It seemed to weigh more than
before, pulling heavily on her neck.

Jasmira heard a low murmur of the far-away voices, a chant repeated
over and over. Her enhancing Spirit couldn’t do anything to calm her racing
heart or remove the effects of the Dasht-e Kavir. She had an uneasy feeling
that the magical jewel was awakening, as if from a long, deep sleep. Something
was calling it, and the Dasht-e Kavir responded. She gasped when it occurred to
her—Jatred was there, with the rest of the Winter Shifters, fighting the
Mahrasets. And it was very possible that he wore the Amulet.

Grannie called the Dasht-e
Kavir the Amulet’s twin.
Jasmira thought about what
happened when Amber helped her transport Jatred to the Summer Realm, using the
Amulet’s powers. A shiver went through her body, and her breathing quickened.
The memory was vivid in her mind: their arms bound together by the Amulet, and
the spiraled script appearing on the jewel’s edge, shining like molten gold. She
recalled how much she had trusted Amber. How could she not understand that she
was just a device in the Goddess’s hands? Hot rage shook her insides, and her
jaw clenched tight.

Morrigan cut diagonally through the air with the sword in her left
hand, and the ground froze, glittering in millions of diamond-like sparkles. She
did the same with the other sword, and the heavy snow began to fall. The
temperature dropped many degrees past the freezing point.

The Winter Goddess shouted a few words in an archaic form of Gaelic.
The horizon line shifted, and
the ground shook. A low, melodic hum came from far away.
 
A vast army of white-furred Garhanans moved
toward the battlefield with an alarming speed. Soon, their humming changed to
an ear-splitting roar as they rushed in the direction of the Summer Shifter
army.

A growl escaped Bastet’s lion lips. Her thick mane, the tip of her
nose, and her shoulders were covered in soft white snow. She stomped her foot,
making the ground shake again.

“You!” she roared, pointing finger at Morrigan. “You think you can
ever defeat me?” She slammed her right fist into her left palm. A thick
blinding ray of light shot out from between her hands. It looked like liquid
fire. One end quickly coiled itself around Bastet’s palm and wrist. The other
end danced in front of her as if mimicking a swaying cobra. The Goddess drew
her arm back and forward, lashing the burning whip at Morrigan. The Winter
Goddess expected the attack. Her two swords came forward in an “X”, cutting the
whip into three sections. The two pieces fell onto the ground and disappeared
into the soil. The third part, which Bastet was still holding, grew out like a
vibrant vine, swaying to the sides in front of her.

The Summer Goddess lashed her shortened whip with a flick of her
wrist. A wave of excruciating heat washed over the area, once more melting the
snow and ice. She shook her mighty lion-mane, roaring and snarling, her teeth
bared.

In the spots where Morrigan’s swords came into contact with the
whip, two large chunks broke off their sharp edges. An electric-blue icy spark
ran along each blade, repairing the damage. Thunder rolled over the battlefield
when the Winter Goddess slammed her blades flat sides against one another. Dark
clouds appeared from nowhere, stirring over the sky like a herd of angered
animals. Blinding arrows of lightning zig-zagged the darkened sky and the snow
started to fall in thick sheets. It became even colder than before.

Bastet growled furiously, pulling her thin lips back from her teeth.
She lifted her arm and pushed the air with her flat palm, sending a scorching
heat wave toward her opponent. With a roar, she struck the blazing whip at
Morrigan. But the swords cut it in half again. This time Bastet didn’t wait for
the whip to grow back. She lashed what was left of her weapon at the group of
wolves nearest to the Winter Goddess. One of Morrigan’s swords blocked the way,
protecting her Shifters. An electric-blue spark zipped back and forth on the
blade’s surface, repairing the damage. The other sword cut at the already
mended whip, missing it by an inch.

Both sides kept fighting ferociously. Most warriors were wounded
over and over again, and then healed; many of them died and vanished. But
neither side was giving up. Jasmira and Penelope tried to spot Jatred and Erik
among the warriors, but it was impossible. The vast sea of the Mahrasets and Winter
Shifters in both human and animal forms was too huge to penetrate, even with
the keen eye of a Summer Shifter.

“Try to mind-communicate with Jatred. I will do the same with Erik.
Maybe we can get to them somehow?” Penelope’s voice was quiet but decisive.

“I already did. I can’t find his mind. I hope… I
really
hope he is okay.”
But
Mom said to stay away from him…

“Later then. Now we have to get ready for this.” Penelope pointed to
the approaching Garhanans and smiled viciously, her enhancing Spirit taking
over. The Summer Shifters around them—some in their human forms, others in
animal—yelled and snarled. A huge army stood, confident and ready for the
Garhanans. The Winter creatures of torment were almost upon the Summer Shifters,
passing the mass of fighting Winter warriors and Mahrasets on their way.

The enhancing Spirit assumed the full control over Jasmira. Her face
became more mature, focused, her eyes narrowed. She raised her sword and a
loud, deep growl came out of her throat. Her white teeth glistened against her
dark skin and black hair. “Now!” she half yelled, half snarled. The Summer
Shifter army charged forward, their weapons ready to strike the upcoming enemy.

 
Seconds before the clash of
the armies, Bastet’s fire whip lashed at the incoming Garhanans, slicing a
dozen of them in half. Dark-red blood stained the ground in huge circles around
pieces of their massive bodies. The Goddess flicked her wrist, and Jasmira felt
as if invisible arms pulled her to the right, away from the next line of
charging monsters. Amber’s power sent her flying and smashing to the ground.
Clumps of dirt flew everywhere. The Hoplite sword tumbled away from Jasmira’s
hand.

In the distance, the Summer army collided with the snow-white
Garhanans. The Spirits of the Realm weaved themselves around and through the
monsters, sinister and maddening. They looked and moved in the same way as the
Winter Spirits. Jasmira rolled onto her back, wincing in pain, and saw the
bloody confrontation directly in front of her. She turned her head to the right
and saw the other battle: the Mahrasets and the Winter Shifters in a lethal combat.

CHAPTER 57

In-Between the Realms. Date
in Human World: November 19, past midnight.

Jasmira heard Amber’s commanding voice in her head, “Get up. Fast.
Go find the Winter Prince. I will restore the memories. Now hurry, I can’t hold
Crystal much longer.”

Jasmira sat up, picked her sword, and slowly stood up. She kept her
narrowed eyes on the fighting Goddesses. A cascade of hatred, disappointment,
pain, and anger washed over her. She knew that she would not be looking for
Jatred. As much as she was concerned for his safety, she also understood that
staying away from him now was the only way to stop Amber from fulfilling her
plan. “You killed my parents. And Jatred’s family,” she hissed under her breath.
She gripped the hilt of her Hoplite blade and decisively walked toward the
Summer Shifters battling with the Garhanans.

Her black and gray vision flickered into color,
and she saw a spectrum of hues, shapes, teeth, and claws, mingled into a
fast-changing
medley
. All species growled, wailed, howled, and yelped,
attacking and defending.

“Back! Get back!” Amber screamed in her mind. But Jasmira started to
run, her eyes on the bloody combat. She slammed into an invisible wall and flew
back once more, landing on her back. She lay sprawled on the ground, trying to
shift into her leopard form. But her enhancing Spirit held her firmly in the
human body.

She lifted a rock off the ground and swung it
forward. It went sailing through the air. Amber’s invisible wall wasn’t there
anymore. One of the Mahrasets charged toward her and, before she got up,
grabbed her ankle in a vice-like grip. Jasmira snarled and repeatedly kicked
the beast with her other foot. The Mahraset grunted but didn’t loosen its hold.
It turned and started to drag her slowly to the battlefield.
 

Jasmira yelled in frustration and tried to hack at
the creature with her sword. But each time she came a couple of inches too
short. Rocky ground scraped her back, and a sting of burning pain ran along her
spine. The monster hauled her over sharp rocks, and she felt a fluid heat
soaking her back. She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.

“No. You’re not taking me to Jatred. I will kill you first.” She
squirmed, pulling herself higher. She slashed at the Mahraset again. This time
her Hoplite blade connected, cutting deeply through the green fur and red-brown
skin. The monster roared in pain and let go of her ankle. Jasmira scrambled to
her feet, took several hurried steps back, and then ran full speed toward the
Mahraset. She jumped high and swung the blade again, stabbing the beast at the
base of its neck. The Hoplite sank through the thick muscle, all the way to the
bone, slicing one of the main arteries.