The White Towers (29 page)

“I’ll do it,” said Zastarte, grinning. “I’m sick of eating your tough beef slop. I’ll cook you a meal fit for any princess. As long as you get busy filling that bath with nice hot water. I actually think I’ve got entrails in my hair. Can you believe that? Fucking
entrails.
In my fucking
hair.
”

“Maybe you need to hack it off. It’s looking a bit feminine,” said Dek.

Zastarte gave him a withering look and the gentlest of nods. “What? And end up with it looking like
that
?” He gestured. “I’ll take my chances with the entrails, if it’s all the same to you. But on a more positive note, I found something else when I was looking for the woodshed.”

“Such as?”

“Horses,” said the dandy. “Live horses.”

“Much better than dead horses, I think,” snorted Dek.

“Well, I was actually considering them in a food sense. Fresh meat. After all, we wouldn’t be needing them for a journey – because we’re heading back into Zanne to find Narnok and Trista, aren’t we?”

Kiki and Dek exchanged a quick glance, which Zastarte noted. He scowled, eyes narrowing, licking his lips and baring his teeth. “I’ll go and prepare us something to eat whilst you two ponder the impending terrible deaths of our abandoned friends. I just want you to be aware that if anything happens to Trista…”

“Yeah?” said Dek, eyes dangerous, hand on the hilt of his long sword.

Zastarte grinned. “Then watch your back.”

 

Kiki reclined in the hot water, scrubbing at her skin with a block of soap. It felt amazing. It felt
more
than amazing. An orgasm that lasted over and over and over. The simple, basic premise of washing sweat and gore and crap from her skin until she emerged, scrubbed and pink and… feeling like a woman again. Dek was waiting for her. He grabbed her round the waist, held her naked, but she slapped him in the chest with the heel of her hand. “Get off me you oaf – you
stink
!”

“Ha, you didn’t say that the other night in the forest!”

“That’s because we
both
stank. Get in the bath and get rid of that filth. Look, you’re covered in elf rat gore. It’s disgusting!”

“Wait for me, my lady,” he grinned.

“I’ll be downstairs, helping Zastarte with the food.”

She moved through to a bedroom, coarse towel wrapped around her, and rummaged through Beth’s old clothes. Beth.
Beth.
I wonder where you are, Lady of the House? I hope you are well, and that you and Old Skern and the Little Ones are safe. I hope you headed away from this madness. I hope the evil in Zanne didn’t suck you in and tear you down.

Beth’s clothes fit reasonably well, and Kiki dressed in tight-fitting leggings and a cool cotton shirt of white. She pulled on a thick lambs-wool jumper, and found some soft leather boots, handmade and uneven, but wonderfully comfortable.

Stepping lightly down the stairs, she found Zastarte frying onions and garlic in butter. He glanced at her, but his face was a mask; unreadable.

“Would you like me to help?”

“No.”

“Have I upset you?”

“I heard you. Upstairs, with Dek.”

“Meaning?”

Zastarte turned on her. “If it was Dek we’d left behind there, in Zanne, we’d already be on the fucking march, searching for another way in, looking to help our old war comrades. We’ve been through a lot together, Kiki, and I know you well, but this turn of events is beneath you. We have
abandoned them.
Can’t you see that? Left them to fucking die under the claws of the elf rats.”

“No.” Her face went hard. “We were separated beyond our control. Narnok and Trista are both incredibly competent soldiers; warriors. They
are
alive, Zast, and you know it, and I bloody know it too.”

“But
how
do you know?” he said, almost pleading.

“I am the Heart of the Wolves. You know I only want the best for all of us. And I would crawl over broken glass and a million dead enemies to rescue a single one of you.” She took hold of Zastarte’s shoulders. “You
know
that, Zast. You fucking
know it.
”

“And what about Yoon?”

“What about him?”

“About what he said. About Sameska. About Zalazar. About
the White Towers and the Elf Heart
?”

“That’s a different discussion,” said Kiki, gently, eyes locked to Zastarte. “But trust me, my friend, when I tell you we’re not going rushing off on some fool’s errand on random information given by some lunatic like Yoon. Narnok is a brother to me, and yes, Trista is a sister to me. You are my
family
. The
Iron Wolves
are in my blood. By the Seven Sisters. You
are
my blood.”

Zastarte ladled out the onions and garlic – which smelled amazing – and added dried beef, tomatoes and water from a boiling pan, which he then stirred idly as he returned the pan to the hot plate of the wood-burning range. “You want to know what’s ironic?” He barked a short laugh. “
I
believe him. Believe that mad fuck, Yoon. I think what he said is true. It was like a prediction, Kiki. A vision of the future; like he
knew
the fucking elf rats were going to invade Vagandrak.” He stumbled into silence, stirring the bubbling broth.

“Let’s eat, and sleep, and regain our strength,” said Kiki, wincing as Dek’s stitches pulled tight in her side. “Trista will be all right. I promise.”

“Yes,” nodded Zastarte, and listened to Kiki move away, back up the stairs, to the encompassing arms of her lover.

Nobody saw the tears running down his cheeks.

 

She ran her hands through the curled hair on Dek’s chest, and lowered herself onto his throbbing, erect cock. It eased inside her, an inch at a time, and she closed her eyes, throwing her head back, chewing her lower lip. His hands found hers, their fingers interlocking, and she pushed down on him with every beat of her heart, every
th-thump
of her twin hearts. And as they fucked long into the dark hours of the night, the world and battle and Vagandrak, everything fell away in that basic farmhouse bedroom, lit by candlelight; everything fell away, slow swirling like oil down a sink hole. And even as Kiki felt herself rising to climax, and her eyes flickered open to see Dek writhing beneath her, his teeth gritted, face beautiful in this moment despite his absolute lack of beauty, she felt their union, their symbiotic power, the rush of blood through veins, and she came with a long low moan and felt him come inside her, felt his hot rush and his total utter abandon, and then she collapsed on him, rolled to his side, snuggled into his cuddle, one hand on his heaving chest as his panting quickly receded and he turned to look at her.

“You’re beautiful, my lady,” he said, eyes earnest and bright.

“Fuck off. You’ve got what you want, you don’t need to mock me.”

“I’m serious.” He jacked himself up on one elbow. “I’ve never seen you look more beautiful. You look…” he stroked her red-flushed cheek, “
radiant
.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said, snuggling against him again. Outside, wind and ice needles drove against the windows, howling. The storm had returned with a vengeance.

“Yeah. And they all believe it.”

“Bastard.” She punched him in the bicep.

“Ouch. That hurt.”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“So soon?”

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she said, stroking his sex-warm flesh.

“Go on then. Kiss it better,” he said; and she did.

 

An undulating, snow-filled plain.

Trees surrounded the edges, tall and thick and foreboding. Creatures watched from the dark places. They were wolves. She could sense they were wolves. She could smell the blood on their muzzles. Smell the need in them. The lust for the kill.

Five figures walked towards her, boots crunching in the snow. They halted. She could see them more clearly now.

“We have come for you, Kiki, Captain of the Iron Wolves.”

Kiki drew both her swords.

“At least tell me who you are, before I fucking kill you.”

“We are the Tree Stalkers,” said a tall, beautiful figure. His limbs were slightly twisted, his eyes black like molten glass. “And I am Aeoxir. Remember it well.” He charged, and Kiki’s swords attacked in a blur of steel. But he was too fast, sweeping past her, hardly shifting to avoid her clumsy strokes. She felt both her belly and throat part under soft whispers of razor steel. Watched in disbelief as her blood pattered to the crisp white snow, and felt the
shift
as her bowels spilled from her opened abdomen…

She hit the ground with a grunt, which spat blood before her disbelieving eyes.

And, as shadows fell over her, she closed her eyes and her mouth filled with warm blood and she remembered how hot the blade had been; the one that cut across her throat.

 

Dek slept, and Kiki stared at the ceiling, shivering. There were cracks in the plaster running diagonally between the beams. She wondered if Old Skern knew. She wondered if Beth was still alive, and she pictured the woman’s round, happy face, remembering the time at the Cider Fayre when they’d both got stinking drunk and Old Skern had had to bring them back to this very farmhouse in a cart. She realised tears were on her cheeks.
Gods be with you and your family, Beth
, she thought.

And she thought about Aeoxir.

Thought about the chilling ice of the razor across her throat.

Beth? Old Skern? Like you give a flying fucking barrel of horse shit.
Suza sidled into the dark recesses of Kiki’s mind, and Kiki felt herself sigh internally. And yet she could see Suza, hazy, as if through a veil and standing in the corner of a fire-scorched room.

Well fuck off, then,
thought Kiki.
I’m tired of your
…
presence.

Kiki smiled to herself, and rolled from the bed. She glanced down at Dek. Gods, if he knew the shit that went on inside my head. Surely he’d think I was…

Crazy,
agreed Suza.

None at all.
She felt, more than saw, Suza smile in the blackened room. But she
felt
it. The lies. The
fake.

You’re lying,
realised Kiki.
You know some things, but others are a distant dream from when you
were
alive.

No, I am right. In the same way you can no longer experience the amazing sensation of a man’s huge cock inside you, bringing you to a slick, fast, hard, mind-blowing realm of fucking ecstasy, so you can no longer see into my thoughts, or into my heart. Something’s changed, hasn’t it, Suza? That’s why you’re here. You
want
something,
bitch
.

I want nothing
! The scream almost blew Kiki’s brain out through her ears with its random suddenness and terrible ferocity. No human vocal cords should have been able to make a sound like that; but then, this was not a sound in the air, but a pulse of power, or magick, in the mind.

The world seemed to blend, to merge, and Kiki was in that fire-blackened room. Above her, fire ravaged timbers creaked, bowed, barely able to support the roof. Through ragged gaps she saw a sky so black it was a bottomless chasm. There were no stars. Around her, the walls had been kissed and devoured by flame, and yet still stood, carbon-smeared stone proud and solid and refusing to buckle. But the worst thing was the stench, the absolute terrible fucking
stench
of the fire. It was more than woodsmoke, more than warm ashes; it was scorched flesh, pig flesh, human flesh, rich and ripe with bubbling fat and the sickly sweet aroma of over-cooked baby meat. Kiki nearly gagged, but forced herself into some semblance of civility and sanity and her head came up and she saw the dark, blackened face of Suza.

“Welcome to my world,” said Suza.

“I came invited?”

“Of course not. You are a fucking intruder.”

Suza took a step forward. Her clothes were melted rags. Every inch of her skin was blackened, dry, cracked. Her hair was crisp dry stalks. Her fingernails had burned free. Only her eyes held colour, and they were dark, glittering, and filled with a purity of hate directed straight at Kiki.

“You brought me here,” said Kiki, frowning, unsure.

“You brought yourself here. You stepped across the threshold. I want you to leave.”

Kiki smiled, then, a long, slow smile. “
You
want me to leave?”

“Fucking leave, fucking bitch,” snapped Suza, taking another quick step forward. Her hands curled into claws. “Before I take out your eyes.”

“Relax, sister,” soothed Kiki, but she changed her position with infinite subtlety, awaiting the attack, making herself better placed to defend. “I’m not here to ruin your day. Or your life. Not like you seem to try and ruin mine!”

“I show you things; I keep it real,” snarled Suza.