Astegur leaned back and heated the smoke deep within him, feeling it flame up with Calavia’s blood. He waited.
He heard more cry out as the traps snared them, as the stakes slashed their skin and poisoned them with vilevine seeds, as more crashed to the ground, caught up in the deeper pools of water throughout Prayer.
Thuds and pings sparked in his ears, the sound of arrows falling in waves against the temple façade and the haphazard barrier between him and his enemies. But he did not let them pull him out of his stance and break his focus. He had to survive and hold them off long enough to give Calavia a chance to take control of the barrier.
And then a holler went up, followed by dozens more, and he peered out once again.
Off to the side, a centaur draped in battlearmor the likes of which Astegur had never seen, made his way to the middle of Prayer with a flaming spear, and in his wake, burned everything in his path with it. The fire made the reeds and stakes around the centaur bubble and spark, removing the wax that coated them.
Astegur growled and pulled away. He turned to the thralls on either side of him.
“Blisterbark,” he ordered. “Whatever you can find, bring it to me. Quickly!” They jerked in action at his command.
“Minotaur! Come out and face me!” a voice boomed.
He ignored it as the first of the thralls arrived with the bark. He grabbed a clump and stuffed it along the sides of the barrier. As thralls arrived with more he ordered them to spread it across the stone floor and tie it to the vines still hanging along the passageway walls.
“You fear me, bull spawn? Come show me this legendary strength your kind is supposed to possess!”
Astegur glanced around and approached the barricade, shaking his head. He placed one hand at the bottom of a stack of crates and looked back at the thralls. “Do not let them through. Not one. Protect your witch,” he said, breathing hot and low before turning back to the crates.
He shoved them aside just enough for him to step through. Reaching behind him, he pulled his secondary axe out of the strap across his back. He made his way through the debris littering the entrance and stepped out from the shadows of the temple and into the smoky light outside.
“My name is Astegur Bathyr, slayer of centaurs and hero of the swamps. You have threatened my land, prepare to meet your demise!”
Chapter Twenty
Calavia glared at her mother from across the circle, her vision blurring and spinning with blood loss and exhaustion. She grabbed the edge of her altar to steady herself as she braced for another attack. But her mother was facing away from her, staring in the direction Astegur had gone, clawing at the replica of the protection barrier her daughter had erected to keep her trapped.
Calavia didn’t want to hurt her mother, didn’t want to cause her any harm. In the back of her mind, she knew that her mother wouldn’t feel any pain, but it was still hard for her to accept that and use it to her advantage.
She inhaled deeply, taking the moment for what it was—a gift.
She couldn’t think about the sudden clash of weapons ringing through her temple, not without wanting to rush to Astegur’s side and break the spell she so painstakingly erected.
“Mother?” she whispered, unsure if she would even hear her. But when her mother turned around to face her, Calavia knew she still had some power of persuasion over the thrall. Calavia took a step forward, wavering on her feet, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Then she took another, stopped, and waited. When her mother didn’t rush to attack her, several tears welled in her eyes.
One more step and they were within reaching distance of each other. Calavia outspread her hands in an act of submission to the woman who birthed her.
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” she said. “I don’t want to hurt you. You once told me that you would do anything to keep me safe,anything.” She reached up to wipe her eyes. “I would do anything to keep you safe.” Calavia slowly moved her hands toward her mother and grasped her wrists, turning them to expose the jagged wounds her mother had inflicted upon herself days before. “I wish I knew how…”
At the moment Calavia felt like the little girl she’d been so many endless years ago, afraid and confused, watching the one person who cared about her in her entire life wilt before her eyes. The memories of those days were ones she tried to bury deep, tried not to dwell on, but were always and often in the forefront of her mind despite her efforts.
She let go of her mother’s wrists and pressed forward, hugging her as tight as she possibly could.
“You must be strong, Calavia, and careful. The world is a dark place whether there is light or not. Men and beasts will want all that you have and more. They are ravenous for it. Ravenous for you.”
“You must respect what you have and honor those who have given it to you. I thought magic was a sin, and that our God of light would purify me. Instead, he brutalized me and left me, left the entire village of Prayer for dead. The mist spared us, but like all things on this side of the world, it demands a sacrifice. My sacrifice. Our blood is the source of all powerful magic. Remember that, and one day, it will save your life.”
“Every monster hungers for it, they want it inside them any way they can get it. They are the products of this cursed world, and they are desperate for what they cannot have...humanity. The amalgamations were denied that basic right. Whether it was our Sun God that had denied them such a gift or the curse, only time will tell. I believe...even Gods get tired.”
“When I am gone, remember what I have taught you, girl. The walls around us let in creatures of the mist if they do not mean harm. I have learned a lot in the years since Prayer fell that I wished I had known before. Even though many creatures will try to eat you, or worse, breed you here, there is still kindness here, and strength of character. We live here, do we not?”
Her mother’s words flooded through her head, and Calavia squeezed her eyes shut tight, shaking and holding onto her mother in a way she hadn’t in so long. It felt good and sad. Calavia pressed her face hard into the crook of her mother’s neck. But above all, it felt like a goodbye.
“I love you,” she cried softly. “I love you so much.” She shook against her mother’s listless, unresponsive form. In the back of her mind, she knew her mother had died many years ago, back when she was still but a young girl struggling to survive in an empty place. But it wasn’t until Astegur arrived that she truly understood that existing wasn’t living. That remaining in stasis, because it was easier, was as good as being dead.
She squeezed her mother even tighter, hoping the moment would last forever, but all too soon her mother began to struggle in her grip. The cacophony of battle outside returned, and Calavia was forced to let go.
