King's Folly (Book 2) (18 page)

A long-limbed creature hung like a spider on the trunk of a redwood. It had been a woman—once. But tainted powers had twisted her into something contrary to nature. Branching claws, disjointed movements, and seeping spores named her a Blight hag. Acacia could not say if it was the same that had attacked the nymph in the forest.

The hag opened her mouth, her jaws unhinged, and an abyss swallowed most of her face. A screech pierced the din of battle as a swarm of locusts surged from her throat, shooting towards the seer.

Acacia beseeched the divine with a firm word. The Guardians answered, bringing light to her shield. She directed the light at the Blighted. Another screech pierced her eardrums. The hag twisted, diving into the tree, melting with the wood. The redwood cracked and withered with the hag’s course.

Marsais twisted, turning his back on the locust swarm. He thrust out his hand, and a heartbeat later, the witch emerged from another tree. But the seer was waiting. He clenched his fist. An ethereal hand rushed towards the hag with a shifting swirl of runes. It caught her around the neck, pinning her in place.

Acacia rushed forward, shining her shield at the creature. It writhed on the ground like a legless spider.

The locusts converged, swarming over Marsais. His hand slipped, his hold loosened, and the witch sprang. Acacia lunged. The tip of her blade found the hag and pierced the creature’s heart. Black blood oozed from the wound and talon-like fingers raked across Acacia’s greaves. Pain sliced her calf, cutting boots like parchment, and a thousand insects battered and gnawed, crawling beneath her armor, clawing at her eyes, searching for entrance.

Acacia grit her teeth, held her breath, and bore down on the hilt, wrenching the blade. With a final rattling breath, the hag stilled.

Coins chimed in the swarm. A voice chanted in the buzz, and a wave of fire purged the pests. Their charred corpses fell to the ground with a spray of ash. Marsais strode forward, unperturbed, fire dancing in his palm. With a soft murmur, he thrust his hand towards the hag, and blew. The body caught like dried pine needles. A quick gesture snatched the fire back, and he dispersed it with a clap.

The forest stilled.

“Thank you, Captain, she was a bit slippery.”

“Your nymph is gone.”

Marsais blinked, and then his gaze turned inward, searching.

“Where is Isiilde?” Oenghus nearly shook the answer free, but he restrained himself. Without a word, Marsais turned, and ran deeper into the ruin. The barbarian followed.

Acacia glanced at her men. Their armor was streaked with blood, and Rivan looked on the verge of collapse, swaying on his feet. “After them.”

“By the gods,” Rivan breathed in exhaustion. Lucas shoved the younger man into a run, following slowly on his heels with a hand pressed to his ribs. Acacia raised her sword and brought it down, hacking off the hag’s charred head in one clean sweep. She kicked the crispy husk into the ruins. The Blighted never lay quiet for long.

Sheathing her sword, she ran after the ancients, plucking a surviving locust from beneath her armor. Between a madman, a berserker, and a nymph, the trio would be the death of them all.

❧

The seer stood on an overgrown expanse of stone. “Here!” he yelled.

“Underneath?” Oenghus asked, gripping a thick vine and hoisting himself on top.

“Yes, hurry, Oen, she’s in danger, and moving fast.”

The barbarian shoved the seer aside. Marsais staggered backwards, nearly falling off the edge, but he recovered, twisting and leaping to the ground with nimble ease. Acacia grabbed Lucas’ arm, pulling him back. Oenghus raised his hammer. A booming chant filled the forest, rippling like thunder. With a word, the barbarian brought his hammer down. The blow ended with a crack. The earth quaked, the stone split, and he brought up his hammer again, slamming it with a final, deafening crunch. The earth shifted, revealing the pinnacle of what appeared to be a massive dome.

Oenghus hooked his hammer on his belt and focused on the crack. Without missing a word, his voice thrummed with power. It clutched Acacia’s heart, pounding the air from her lungs. At his command, the earth stirred, and he thrust down his arms. The giant flexed, as if he were parting the rock with brute strength. His muscles rippled with strain, and inch by strenuous inch, the rock split.

Silence caused a ringing that battered the eardrums. Acacia coughed, squinting through the settling debris. Marsais crouched beside the newly uncovered dome, clearing away rubble from a dark opening. Acacia moved to help, as did Lucas, but she waved the wounded warrior off, ordering Rivan to take his place.

As soon as the opening was wide enough, Marsais folded his long body through the crack, and Acacia squeezed in after.

Earth, roots, and stone mingled freely, creating a maze of tunnels and pits. Given the size of the dome’s top above ground, the underlying structure must have been massive. How far had the building fallen?

Acacia summoned light to her shield as she followed the seer’s swift strides. The space abruptly opened up, and the stone floor dropped with it, along with a waterfall of dangling vines. Marsais skidded to a stop, boots slipping on the stones and tasting air. Acacia slowed, shining her shield into the expanse.

The temple was tilted. It had sunk into a great cavern millennia ago, and was held aloft by its domed top and broad shoulders. The lower sections lay strewn on the distant floor. Stalactites hung from the cavern’s ceiling, and stalagmites rose from its floor. A black pool sat in the middle of a monolithic ruin, and far below on its shore, something was being consumed by a mass of writhing snake-like creatures. From the way Marsais calmly watched, she did not think his nymph was part of the feast.

The light from her shield hit something long and pale and massive that slithered between stones. Its head rose, its body coiled, and a rattling filled the cavern. Not from a tail, but from the head—a very human-like head, topped with a mass of writhing snakes. A naga: a creature of Blight and vileness.

“Here lies the rot,” Marsais said gravely. His fingers traced runes. Searing energy crackled from his fingertips, blasting the creature’s head, earning its attention. The naga’s massive head whipped around. Her neck flowed into a serpent’s body, and her eyes burned as her mouth opened, rattling a wickedly barbed tongue at Marsais and Acacia. The great body coiled and lashed, whipping its tail at the base of their perch.

The ruin quaked and stones broke, clattering off the edge. The hag returned to a pile of fallen stone, clawing at the rubble with distended arms haphazardly protruding from her monstrous form. A weak bolt of energy zapped from the darkness. It was the nymph.

“Catch me, Seer.” Acacia stepped back, secured her shield, turned her sword around, and caught Marsais’ eye. Surprise flashed in the grey depths. She took two steps towards the edge, and leapt.

Gravity took hold. Steel, leather, and flesh plummeted. The ground grew closer, wind whipped past her eyes, leaving her stomach a hundred feet above. For a split second, she feared the madman had forgotten how to weave. But the descent slowed, and she drifted like a feather, until the naga’s tail swept underneath her and Marsais withdrew his hand.

Acacia dropped, landing on the naga, plunging her blade into thick scales. The sweet, sickly stench of death crawled down the warrior’s throat. The Blighted jerked in pain, flinging Acacia off like a rag doll. Acacia hit stone, rolled, and came up, chopping at the serpent’s body.

The grotesque head was topped with Stone Lickers, reaching, seeking, sniffing for blood with their funnel like mouths full of fangs. The naga struck, and Acacia dodged, swinging her shield from her shoulder in time to block a reaching mass of slurping creatures. She hacked off a body.

An unyielding force slammed into the paladin, sending the woman flying. Acacia struck a pillar and slid down stone. A beam of energy pierced the back of the naga’s head, but the Blighted ignored the blow, smelling fear and a quick kill.

Acacia abandoned her shield and threw herself to the side, reaching for the writhing Stone Lickers that served as hair. Their sucking, coiling bodies entangled her, and the naga lifted its head, jerking the paladin off the ground.

Teeth latched onto her armor, searching for exposed flesh. One bit into Acacia’s cheek, and as momentum carried her up and over the naga’s head, she came slamming down against rotting scales attached by blood sucking carrion. She was savagely swung like a child’s rag doll, knocked against stone, and battered by a diseased body.

Momentum again lifted her upwards, and on her downward spiral, she brought her blade to bear. The tip, with the force of her weight behind the blow, pierced the base of the naga’s head. The naga’s body arched and quivered with a rattle that shook the cavern. With one final, rasping exhale, everything collapsed.

Monster and paladin crashed to the cavern floor. Acacia hit the body, bounced, and was ripped free from the sucking carrion. She rolled and stopped. The black pool rippled as inky forms surged, and a force slammed into her, pushing her backwards and out of reach. Her helm hit stone, and she exhaled, resting her dazed head on solid ground.

High overhead, Marsais tipped an imaginary hat, and Acacia raised her sword in an answering salute. A whimper brought her back to her senses. Acacia reached for her shield and winced as pain sliced up her shoulder. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the shield with her sword hand and brought it to bear.

The nymph was huddled in a hole, hugging her knees as if they would leave her. Wide, emerald eyes stared from the darkness. Even petrified with terror, the creature remained ethereal, possessing a beauty that was reserved for dreams, like a shimmering oasis in a parched land.

“Are you all right, Isiilde?”

“Are you?” Her voice trembled.

“Not really.”

“Is it dead?”

“I hope so,” Acacia sighed, ripping a Stone Licker from her cheek. She tossed the loathsome scavenger towards its brethren.

Marsais drifted to the ground, striding briskly towards his nymph, and crouching in front of the hole. Isiilde crawled out, burying herself in his arms. Acacia gave them their privacy, holding her injured arm close as she struggled to her feet. The abomination appeared good and dead—for now.

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to weave a levitation enchantment around a falling person in armor?” At the ancient’s severe tone, she turned towards the pair.

“As difficult as destroying our only means of retreat during a skirmish? Why did you cut off our escape, Marsais?”

“The tree was old and tired, it needed liberating.”

The odd comment caught her off guard. She narrowed her eyes at the ancient, but he was a difficult one to read. He was neither young nor old; but tall and lean, a charmer and wanderer with high cheekbones and slightly pointed ears. He could almost pass for a Kamberian, but there was something about him—with his snowy hair, agile body and elegant hands. The seer reminded her of the Guardians. She had seen the Guardian of Life once, on Iilenshar from afar.

But more than anything else, it was
the seer’s eyes that betrayed him. They were steel, and
when he gazed at her, Acacia felt as though the heavens with all its myriad of stars studied her every angle, and her every facet was laid bare.

Still, she was never one to back down. “Next time a tree wants liberating, kindly free it after we’ve crossed.”

“We need to move forward, not backwards.”

“Last night you told Lucas and me that there is always time, and there always will be. What changed?”

“Never listen to a madman, Captain,” he answered evasively. “Next time some warning would be appreciated before you throw yourself off a cliff.”

“You’re the seer.”

Marsais snorted. “Foresight doesn’t account for insanity.”

Before she could question him further, he waved a dismissive hand, murmured the Lore and wove a complex rune in the air. A flame formed in his palm and the nymph stared at the flickering ball uneasily. With an exhale, Marsais blew, sending the ball of fire flying through the dark. It hit the carcass, ignited the beast, and the naga roiled in flames.

An overwhelming stench of burning rot filled the cavern. In the fire’s light, Acacia watched Oenghus, Lucas, and Rivan climb down the cave wall. For a large man, the Nuthaanian moved swiftly down the rock face, as if the stone held him upright.

“What was that, Marsais?” the nymph asked.

“A naga, a very powerful Blight Witch to be more precise—those who are afflicted take many forms, especially those who do so willingly.”

“Willingly?” Isiilde looked like she might be sick.

“A thirst for power leaves no room for reason. It consumes and twists, and ultimately corrupts.”

“Did you run off during the battle, Isiilde?” Acacia asked.

The nymph’s ears flicked with irritation. “Of course not. The roots pulled me through the ground.”

“Did they?” Acacia mused.

“Yes,” Isiilde snapped in defense.

“I’m not accusing you of anything, only thinking.” Acacia’s patient tone soothed the nymph’s suspicions. “This naga was extremely interested in you. I suspect your separation from us was deliberate.”

“A wise assessment, Captain. Nymphs are not just coveted by human males, but all manner of creatures for various—reasons.”

Acacia looked at the filthy faerie. Nymphs often sat at the heart of violence, betrayal, and wars. They were delicate creatures, useless really, and yet—Acacia was reminded of the dainty blossoms that sprouted on corpse strewn battlefields. The flowers grew in defiance to everything else, contrary to the madness of men. And even now, covered in dirt, blood, and fear, the nymph stood on her own two feet, ethereal and beautiful in the flame’s flickering light.