Beastly (26 page)

For a moment his heart sunk, and he thought himself a fool for
assuming such a ludicrous idea. She was the North Star: Timeless and constant. She could never see him in the same light. Not in this life. Polaris brushed a lock of hair from the pirate’s face and kissed him on the cheek. In that heartbeat, time froze and Poogs was certain that he saw a very human sparkle in the North Star’s eyes.

A thunderous boom violently rocked the ship. Parchment and gadgetry crashed from their shelving. The work
station, made of solid oak and carrying the weight of Poogs’s equipment fared no better and skittered across the floor. Poogs caught the North Star by the arm. “What in the name of the gods?”

A worrisome look crept over Polaris’s face. “I believe Donovan and my daughter have been re-united.”

Chapter 28

At first the Beast heard naught but his own tepid breath. Then came a rapid click clicking. Somewhere in the darkness, it quickened. And grew louder. Something wicked was fast upon him. 
Them
. Lia’s safety was paramount; even if it meant sending her away. Again.

The clicking was nearly on top of father and daughter, tapping like angry rain on steel. The Liche Queen levitated and then eased backwards, relishing the surging doom. The menacing storm of clicks built to a terrible crescendo. Lia pressed her palms to her ears and burrowed her face deep into the Beast’s side. In a ragged breath he repeated his life’s most agonizing decision, tearing his heart in half all over again. The Beast clutched Lia by the shoulders at arm’s length. “Run. I will be right behind you.”

Lia’s mouth opened to protest, but was silenced by a warding paw. 

“Go!
Now!”

Malachai’s twin writhing tails whipped and thrashed behind the hovering Liche Queen, just as Lia bolted for the entrance. She forced herself to focus on the flapping black veil, promising herself she would not look back. A grotesquely lengthened, horse-like skull, glowing with ten fiery orbs reared over the platform’s side. Malachai dug in with his
hooked claws and pulled his bulk up to his waiting queen. The long talons of his hind legs looked like hand scythes and chewed at the petrified surface for purchase.

Malachai greeted the Beast with a fell howl. It was the call of a rabid wolf on a patch of forgotten tundra. His tails darted back and forth like dueling cobras, dancing above his columns of burning eyes.

“Now this is more like it.” The Liche Queen’s voice was a hollow cackle. She swept an arm between the two titans, welcoming them to her personal arena. “Do not disappoint me again, Captain.”

The Beast had only a second to wonder if that parting barb had been meant for his benefit. 
Does she know who I am?
 The barbs of Malachai’s tails flared and fired towards the Beast from across the platform. He dodged to his right and rolled clear, leaving the twin tails slicing through shadow. Malachai charged in the next breath, jaws snapping open, revealing hundreds of eager teeth. The Beast caught a glimmer of the rotten fangs from the corner of his eye and rolled a second time, treating Malachai to a frustrating meal of empty air.

A flurry of the Beast’s battering ram punches pounded wicked Malachai’s side and the Liche Queen’s dark champion reeled. The Beast grunted, pushed himself upright and dove onto Malachai’s back. He hammered an avalanching fist into Malachai’s skull, seized the greasy mane and smashed the glowing nest of eyes into the floor. The Beast dismounted the twitching body. His mind’s levees cracked further and
rage began to freely pour. Around his eyes a red haze crystallized. Three steps to the Liche Queen and the nightmare would finally end.

A barbed tail flashed to life, slashing the Beast across his face, cutting deep into flesh. The savage strike missed an eye by mere inches. He threw an arm up in anticipation. On cue the second tail lashed out from the shadows, coiling around the limb, carving a crisscross of slashes. The Beast jerked away from the sudden sting, rending at the lethal appendage. Malachai pounced on his snared query, pinning the Beast to the floor.

“I grow weary of this,” the Liche Queen said, floating to the arbour. Her bony finger danced in the eerie green glow, struggling to select a rune to play with. “Ah, this one shall do.” She jabbed a vermillion rune that swirled with the agony of her favorite curse. It was a magic near and dear to her frigid heart; the first of many such curses she had crafted. One she was saving as a special gift.

The Beast struggled under Malachai’s weight. One arm was torn and lashed, the other clawed and pinned, leaving precious few options. The rune’s power siphoned like syrup into the Liche Queen’s hand, charging her cadaverous digits with a ghastly red afterglow. The king of fools himself could understand the need for action. The Beast lurched forward, freeing an arm. He grabbed Malachai by the throat and drove his crown into Malachai’s long mandible. Stunned, the wicked creature released the Beast’s bloody limb, stumbled backwards and collapsed. His tails twitched like angry snakes and then fell motionless.

“No matter,” the Liche Queen said, shoulders slumping ever so slightly. The rune’s power set the air to hum as it gnawed at her hand, begging for release. “I will have the girl. I will finish what I began long ago in
Adella’s cursed ashes. I will burn it all.” The Liche Queen’s glowing hand reared overhead. The Beast scanned around. No cover, nowhere to run, no weapon in hand. He dug in and squared off his shoulders. The Fated Sorrow soared like a vengeful shooting star, leaving a trail of volcanic reds and coppers.

“No!” A tiny voice shouted.
Tiny, but never for a day in her life insignificant to the world. 
Or to her father.

Lia had crept back onto the shadowy platform, undetected by the combatants. With a steady wave, a golden barrier of gusting snowflakes materialized in front of the Beast just before the curse struck. The venomous magic ricocheted from the magical shield and sailed instead for a sweeter target. The Fated Sorrow struck with a branding sizzle.

The Garrison froze. The emerald shadows dancing beneath its dome bit their lower lips and froze.

Lia stood perfectly still. A curious look spread over her round face as the Fated Sorrow claimed its victim and spread through her body. She looked at the Beast, struggling in vain to speak. Her eyes spoke for her paralyzed lips. 
Faday
... She clutched her side. Staggered once…

And fell. 

The Beast felt it first in his chest; the ripping away of his soul. The red
haze swallowed his eyes, tinting the gloomy dark with a lens of crimson. Pure hatred, the very essence of violence finally broke the shackles in his core. He bellowed a horrible sound, one unfit for any but a soul tortured by the most loathsome demon: the sound of parent’s infinite torment.

No amount of pain would stop him. Not hellish fire
nor the grimmest poison. The Beast stormed at the Liche Queen, leaving spurs of cracked stone underfoot. He grabbed at her, meaning her the very worst of what she deserved. 

The Liche Queen vanished from between his swiping claws in a stream of indigo vapor.
“A pity, Beast of Briarburn.” Her disembodied voice rolled through the Garrison. “A pity you had to interfere. Now she will die most painfully. Alive or dead, either shall suit my needs perfectly.” The Beast’s teeth ground as he battled to sort grief from fury.

“My children shall see to her,” the Liche Queen’s fading voice called, “after they see to you of course.”

Legions of Wakeful answered their queen’s summons, filling the Garrison with an empty drone. Armor and weapon alike clattered as thousands of the Queen’s own marched on the spiraling ramps rising from the depths to the altar. A glowing emerald haze climbed the walls, growing closer with each locked step of their approach. The Beast stepped to the platform’s edge, ready to render judgment and justice to the whole miserable lot, when the gentlest of murmurs provided distraction.

Lia lay on her side, chest barely rising,
life draining away. She straightened an arm, and reached out with trembling fingers. The rage in the Beast’s heart fell away. Lia’s needs far exceeded his thirst for Wakeful blood. He had to move quickly, had to get her to safety, to Polaris. The first of the Wakeful reached the platform and sealed off the lone egress. The forward row of black-armored drone drew their weapons, challenging the Beast as their ranks yet swelled.

The wall of blades pushed closer to the altar, filling the tier shoulder to shoulder with hooked armor. The vicious wave of obsidian advanced, filling the Garrison with the sounds of echoing war drums. The Beast bound to his daughter, relieved to find her fragile body still clinging to life. There was no doubt in his mind her soul’s shine remained ablaze with the Breath; only doubt for the limits of her mortal form. The Beast cradled the child,
his child
, into his arms. How slight she felt. To him she was no bigger than a newborn laying comfortably cradled in his elbow’s crook.  

The thunder drummed closer, nearing its end. Fury swelled at his temples but failed to silence a whispering question. Scores of Wakeful began to suffocate the modest platform. The passage above was beyond his prowess to reach. A question came from a dark corner of his heart. Maybe it was enough simply to be with her at the end?

“Be still
starshine, I am here.” The Beast’s whisper was unhurried. He brushed Lia’s hair from her forehead. The Fated Sorrow was fast spreading its evil. Her brow was drenched of sweat, burning to the touch. Lia shivered and raised her arm into space. For a moment the Beast thought her delirious of fever. To his surprise, Lia summoned strength and spoke, each word growing weaker than the last. “It can hurt... them.”

The Beast realized at once her meaning, what Lia had been reaching for. The altar stared back at father and daughter, mocking them with a grisly laugh of silence. In a flash, the Beast hated the Liche Queen’s grim artifact more than any despicable thing he had ever laid his weary eyes on.

He swung his evergreen cloak free and swaddled the tattered garment around his daughter. He squeezed her gently and kissed her forehead. “Don’t leave me... please.” An icy dagger stabbed at his heart. His place was by Lia’s side. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to make up for the stolen moments. Instead, the Beast placed the bundled child upon the floor and lowered his horn crowned head.

And charged.

Chapter 29

The collision was spectacular. The Beast’s ram-like horns struck the runic arbour just shy of its waist. A bluish glyph immediately darkened, its energy annihilated on impact. A chunk of stone larger than a wild boar fell free, crumbling to dust as it rolled away.

A serrated blade of obsidian whistled behind his shoulder. The Beast spun, catching the sword’s guiding wrist. He slammed a vicious punch into a spiked chest plate, caving it in. Before the Wakeful countered, the Beast heaved him overhead and hurled him back at his comrades.

The quick reflex bought precious time. The Beast swung a heavy fist into the arbour, breaking away another chunk of stone. He cocked his tree trunk arm as far back as it would stretch. He would see the whole of the Nekropolis crumble to dust...

Inches from impact, the familiar sting of Malachai’s tail snared his arm, yanking it away. A brutish weight slammed into his back, sending him stumbling. The second tail snapped like a whip, lashing around the thick muscles of the Beast’s neck. The barbs lanced like wasps’ stingers into his skin, hungry for another taste of blood.

The Beast pivoted, clamping a vice grip around his noose, freeing some slack. It was his turn to feed. Oily sludge poured through the Beast’s
fangs, splattering onto the floor. He wrenched his neck in a million directions, sawing through Malachai’s flesh like the blades of starving saw mill.

Malachai’s agonizing howl fell on deaf ears. The wicked creature tried pushing away with a swipe of its hooked claws.
Snapped. Flailed.

Failed.

The wounded tail clung together by a slip of flesh. A final rend severed the appendage free with the grotesque sound of tearing skin. Malachai bellowed at the burning pain and released the twin tail’s grasp on the Beast’s trapped arm. The Beast’s movement blurred. He snatched hold of the surviving tail and yanked its caterwauling owner into a crushing bear hug. He flattened Malachai’s ghastly face with a savage
head-butt, then spun the monster around by a leg like a war hammer.

Malachai crashed into a wave of Wakeful, scattering them like discarded dolls. Metal screeched and grated as the Beast pirouetted with sweeping swings. Scores of Wakeful fell by the wayside and the Beast thought for a moment enough room had been cleared for escape.

The altar.

The Beast dug deep his grip, clutching a pair of Malachai’s limp legs. He spun in a tight circle and raised the improvised mace overhead. He swung Malachai downward in a black crescent, determined to return him to whatever hell he had escaped from. Malachai’s battered body broke upon the Liche Queen’s altar like a tsunami breaking landfall. A
splintering fissure erupted through the altar’s center, spreading in jagged cracks.

The altar hummed, rattling the carpet of discarded weapons and armored bodies. The arbour’s runes drained of life, one by one fading into nothing.
Dying,
the Beast thought.
Good.
The Beast swung his arms backwards and flexed at the knees. He vaulted high, nearly reaching the hidden entrance above; high enough to destroy the castle’s vulgar heart. The Beast drove his heels down at the first kiss of stone, spearing the dying altar down the center. A swirling blaze of magical energies exploded, painting the cavern in twisted shades of purplish twilight.