Chapter 25: Throbbing Aftermath

Note: Thanks to B0b and WRC 264 for beta reading this!

Princess Ava – The Princedom of Kivoneth, The Strifelands of Zeutch

Blows hammered my head. The world spun around me as I clutched at the saddle horn. My stomach clenched again, my throat burning from the bile. I grit my teeth, tears streaming down my face as I struggled to gain control of my body.

“Princess!” Greta called out. “Princess, what happened?”

I shook my head, trying to think through the pain. Fear squeezed my heart. What happened? Did it work? Did I save Sven? I needed to know. I needed to find out what happened. I needed to access my other proxy with Sven, the original I gave him after he first fled Az ahead of my father’s soldiers. I grit my teeth. I couldn’t let this headache stop me.

I tried to sense my proxies through the pain. But my head ... My head felt beaten by invisible fists. Another wave of nausea rose through me. My fingers tightened on my saddle horn. My body swayed and shuddered. I sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm the pain. I had to reach through it.

“Princess!” Greta shouted, her words screeching through my head, making it ache more and more. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’m ... fine...” I groaned, sweat breaking out over my face. “I just ... I just need to ... to concentrate...”

“You look horrible, Princess.” She still clutched the reins of my horse. She pulled on it, stopping both our mounts. She began to dismount.

“No!” I barked at her. I threw a look over my shoulder, Echur and my father’s castle swimming on the horizon. “We have to keep going! We can’t stop! We have to get as far away as we can before my father discovers our flight.”

“But Princess,” Greta objected, “you’re sick.”

“I’m...” I sucked in a deep breath. “Fine ... Just had ... my proxy destroyed ... It’s a ... a ... shock ... Keep riding...”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Greta said, her words tight. Her eyes narrowed at me, her pale face tightening. “It’s just...”

“I’m in no danger,” I reassured her, sucking in another breath. The blows pounding my head felt a little lessened. “I’ll recover. My soul took a hard punch. Keep riding. I have to contact Sven.”

She licked her lips then heeled her mount.

I sucked in another breath, my stomach roiling again. Bile tickled at the back of my throat. I didn’t want to throw up. I needed to reach out to my proxies. I could feel them through the pain assaulting my head. It was like trying to pick something up small through thick, woolen, winter mittens. I could feel the shape, but I couldn’t quite grasp them.

I kept trying. I closed my eyes, swaying as my horse resumed trotting again. My stomach sloshed from side to side, acidic juices boiling in me. I grit my teeth, drawing breaths through my nose as I struggled to ignore the pressure on my head. I had to grab it.

I had to seize my proxy.

The fear crushing my heart propelled me. That hurt more. Not knowing what happened to those I loved. Sven and Kora and Zanyia were in danger. I didn’t want them to be harmed. I wanted to prevail over that shadowy thing that attacked them.

I couldn’t be weak. I couldn’t be pampered. I couldn’t afford to flee from pain. I wasn’t a spoiled princess any longer. I fled that life. I chose to be an outlaw. A bandit like Sven. I had to give it my all. I had to be strong. For myself. For those I loved.

For Greta. I led her into this. She would pay for my mistakes if this didn’t work out. If Sven...

No, Sven wasn’t dead. He would prevail. I just needed to reach my proxy.

My teeth ground together.

Sweat poured down my brow.

The pressure on my skull increased, squeezing down on my brain. It felt on the verge of rupturing. My spiritual fingers brushed my proxy with Sven. I felt the shape of it. I almost could pour into it. I just needed to try harder.

My horse neighed.

My hands clenched on the saddle horn.

“Come on,” I groaned, fighting off another wave of nausea. “Just...”

Hot agony stabbed into my brain as I forced my soul towards my proxy. I could almost slide my awareness into...

The pain vanished. I poured my existence into a proxy for my body. I inhabited a small, alabaster statue. My eyes opened into darkness.

Kora Falk – The Forest of Lhes, The Strifelands of Zeutch

I smiled down at Zanyia as she began licking her arm, cleaning up her own blood staining those horrible, poisoned wounds. The poison in them felt so nasty. It had taken the extent of my ability to channel my Goddess’s power and restore the art of the lamia’s life. Her tawny, triangular ears twitched and her tail flicked back and forth. A happy purr rose rumbled from her throat.

“Thank you, Mistress,” she said between licks.

I kissed her forehead. “You’re welcome.”

I sucked in a deep breath, still feeling a little off-balanced by everything. Zanyia was the last one hurt. I glanced around the clearing that held the ring of faerie mushrooms. Nathalie wiped at the blood staining Aingeal’s breasts. We came so close to dying. I stared down at the blood staining my robe.

Sighing, I prayed, “Rithi, I ask you to restore the beauty of my clothing and revert it to a pristine state.”

The simple spell washed over me, the blood and other stains rising from the pink cloth. The dart’s hole mended in a moment. It was one of the first prayers taught to me at the temple back in Az. It felt like a lifetime ago when I entered into Rithi’s service. A lifetime lived in a year. How many times had I come close to dying?

Too many.

My body shook. I glanced over at Sven crouched near the ruins of Ava’s rosy quartz proxy. My brother had such a dark expression on his face, lips tight. I pushed myself up to my feet and staggered over to him. When I reached him, I fell to my knees and snuggled against him. His arm slipped around my shoulder.

It felt so wonderful feeling that arm around me. I rested my head on his shoulder, feeling safe in his arms. He helped save my life. Death had come so fast. Just stepping out of the faerie ring and then the pain exploded in my chest.

I still felt so drained. Even invigorated by Aingeal’s healing spirits, my limbs felt leaden. Fatigue gripped me, like I had wrapped myself in wet woolens, the weight pulling on my body, trying to drag me down to the ground.

“What happened?” I asked, still confused by everything. The shadowy human. The other lamia.

“Ava saved my life,” he said. He picked up a piece of her statue’s face, turning it over. It looked macabre, the princess’s delicate cheek and part of her lips ending at jagged quartz. Bits of crystal sparkled in the pink stone.

“That’s not what I meant, brother mine,” I said, shaking my head. “I meant ... The attack.”

“It was Keythivak,” Zanyia said. She pressed against my other side, worming her head beneath my arm. Her fuzzy ear brushed my cheek, twitching. “He’s one of Zizthithana’s servants. Her assassin.”

I grabbed the amulet through my robe, feeling the weight of it. We had to do something about it. We needed to do something about it. My skin suddenly crawled, the gem feeling dirty, oily. The soul of that damned biomancer lurked in there.

I wanted to rip it off and throw it away. But ... But it was too dangerous. If he lived, he would make more monsters to plague the world. More abominations, cause more suffering.

“None are better killer than him,” Zanyia continued, squirming beside me. “Zizthithana must really want that amulet back.”

“Who else is the naga likely to send?” my brother asked.

“Hmm, besides Keythivak, the only servant she has left is Antrevia and her ogre, Gor.”

“Ogre?” I asked, feeling a little queasy. They numbered among the most loathsome of Las’s offsrpings. Not all of the God of Lust’s children were as delicious as Zanyia. Ogres loved to fuck, and they didn’t care how much damage their huge cocks caused while satiating their bestial passions. If a woman survived, the ogre baby conceived would rip her apart in childbirth.

“Don’t worry, Gor is kept on a short leash,” Zanyia said. “Zizthithana wouldn’t unleash him to track us down.” Then she giggled.

“What?” I asked, giving the lamia a curious look as my stomach kept roiling. Ogre...

Her eyes flicked over to Ealaín sitting naked, her ebony breasts swaying before her, her dented breastplate sitting on her lap. She stroked it, her face tight. Zanyia said, “Keythivak didn’t expect her.”

“Ealaín?” I asked, frowning. “Because she inspired me to banish the shadows wreathing Keythivak?”