Dark Communion (Godswar Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  Deetra appeared in the doorway. She grabbed Goreskin around his thick bicep. “Take me! She can't -”

  Goreskin dropped Ayla, who collapsed without the support, and silenced Deetra with the back of his hand. Deetra stumbled, holding her face, and collided with the door jamb. He pointed outside.

  “Out! Now!”

  Ayla cupped her hands under her chin, as her Mother had shown her. She closed her eyes and the words of the prayer rose to her trembling lips. She whispered to the Goddess, voice hitching with sobs. “Mother, Goddess of the Night, your daughter is in need…”

  The minotaur leaned in close. His breath fanned her short black hair away from her face as she finished the prayer.

  “… and begs, humbly...”

  Goreskin shook her but it was too late, she had completed the prayer. The fear melted away and her senses restored, like coming up from underwater. The scent of heady oils lingered on her hands as if the Goddess herself had breathed through Ayla’s mouth. She opened her eyes and Goreskin dropped her arm like it was a poisonous snake. He cocked the whip back, threatening another strike.

  “Get back, or I’ll -”

  A smile touched Ayla’s lips and her tongue darted out, licking away a drop of Deetra’s blood.

  “No. You won't.” Her voice echoed powerfully around the small cabin.

  Goreskin’s muscular arm dropped to his side, the whip impotent in his grip.

  “Put it down.”

  Goreskin hesitated - resisted. He blinked and shook his horned head to clear it. Ayla stalked towards him and, incredibly, the minotaur backed up until he bumped into the wall. She reached out towards him with a triumphant smile, seeing that he now shied away from her touch.

  She was in control now, and she knew just what she was going to do with it.

  Ayla ran her fingers through the fur on his chest, whispering the prayer again. Then she saw the fear in his eyes and laughed.

  “Put it down.”

  The whip hit the floor with a thud. From the corner of her eye, Ayla saw Deetra take a step forward. She held out her hand - an unspoken order to stay put.

  Ayla’s hands slid down to untie the sash that held up his kilt. It came loose and fell to the floor with a clang. A minotaur dagger, a short sword by human standards, lay half exposed from its scabbard. She kicked it behind her with her heel. Deetra’s shadow passed over the back wall as she knelt in the doorway to pick it up. The sword hissed out of its sheath.

  Leaning in close, Ayla smiled up at Goreskin, whose breath now came in short, panicked gasps. He pressed his back against the wall, palms flat against it at his sides, bull-head bowed to look at her. The half-beast swallowed hard as she rubbed her cheek over his fur, like a kitten demanding affection. Whispering the prayer a third time, she invoked her Mother’s dark voice.

  “Close your eyes, cow.”

  He did, and Ayla signaled Deetra with a hurried wave behind her back. The heavy sword was placed in her hand. With surprising swiftness and a bloodthirsty sort of joy, Ayla slid the blade across the thick skin of his throat. His eyes shot open as the resulting fine spray of blood hit her upturned face.

  Ayla wiped at her eyes in a panic and she stumbled back, blinded, as Goreskin choked and sputtered. She cleared her eyes just in time to see him drop to his knees, one hand on his throat, blood pouring between his fingers. He reached out and grabbed the hem of her dress. Ignoring the minotaur’s last pitiful plea for life, she pinched blood out of her nostrils and glanced back at Deetra, who stood mute- expression paralyzed with shock.

  Ayla ripped the dress from between Goreskin’s fingers, then crouched down and looked into his eyes as the blood pooled on the ground between them. She spat in his face and stabbed him just above his drooping kilt. Her face, tight with dried blood, cracked into a grim smile.

  His eyes opened wide and he made another pathetic, wet gurgling sound. Ayla grunted with effort as she dragged the blade up, tugging and sawing her way through his muscled abdomen, holding him against the wall with her shoulder. His guts splattered onto the floor like laundry from a hot wash bucket. Dripping with his blood from her hands, face, and dress, she stood and sneered at him as he looked up at her helplessly.

  “For my Mother.”

  Ayla withdrew the oversized dagger and stepped to the side. Goreskin fell on his face, into the rapidly expanding pool of blood.

  Deetra stared, unblinking.

  Ayla dropped the blade onto the beast’s back. “Let’s -”

  Goreskin’s head lifted from the mess and he fixed one hateful eye on them. Ayla stepped forward and pressed her heel to the back of his head, forcing his nose into the puddle. Red foam appeared around his snout. His hands flexed as he tried to swim away in the shallow puddle. She pressed down harder, giving him her weight, and held him down until his hands stopped moving and the bubbles tapered off. The Goddess’ voice played in her memory as he died.

  I can give you the power to crush him under your heel.

  Deetra stepped over him. She stood in front of Ayla and searched her gory face in wonder before meeting her eyes.

  “How?”

  Ayla wasn’t ready to explain. She needed time to think.

  “We need to get out of here.”

  Deetra bent to pick up the sword then gaped at her, still speechless. Ayla turned to looked out the door. No one was working the fields now, but that would change soon enough. She gently placed her hands on her friend’s cheeks, eyes beseeching .

  “We have to go.”

  “I -”

  She kissed Deetra on the corner of the mouth. “No time. I’ll explain later.”

  Deetra blinked and touched the spot Ayla had kissed. “Ayla, listen-”

  “I can listen and walk. We’ll need to figure out something for shoes.” She headed for the door but Deetra didn’t follow. Ayla stopped and turned back. “What?”

  “I can’t come with you.”

  “You have to. If they find this…and you…”

  Deetra closed the distance between them. She met Ayla’s gaze, her light brown eyes full of purpose, and spoke with rising panic in her voice. “If I don't report to the vineyard soon, they’ll come looking for me.”

  Ayla pulled Deetra another step toward the door. “Then we have to hurry.”

  “Ayla, wait.”

  “No. You’re coming.” Ayla tugged again, but Deetra didn’t budge.

  “If you and Goreskin are missing, no one will think twice. If I go to work, it will be hours before anyone realizes something's wrong.”

  “I can't do this without you.”

  Deetra pushed her toward the door. “You have to.”

  Ayla shoved Deetra’s hands away. “I'm not leaving you.”

  “You said it yourself. If we go together, we’ll be caught in a day.”

  Deetra was right. If the Masters of the plantation started looking for them right away, they wouldn’t make it two miles. Minotaurs stood over seven feet tall, with long powerful legs. They couldn’t ride horses, but they didn’t need to. At just a walk, they moved faster than most humans at a jog. She wracked her brain for another way, any solution that didn't involve leaving Deetra behind to suffer for her crime.

  There wasn’t any.

  Ayla dropped the dagger and threw her arms around her only friend. “I'm sorry.”

  Deetra returned the hug, squeezing her tight. “Don't be,” she said as she swept Ayla’s long black bangs back over her ear. “Just tell me how. How did you make him obey?”

  Ayla shook her head against Deetra’s chest. “My Mom, I think. In my dream, she healed me, taught me a prayer.”

  Deetra broke the embrace, held her at arm's length, and gave her a long look as if taking in the sight of her one last time. She wiped her nose on her forearm and stooped to retrieve the dagger.

  “I don't know what that means. But there's no time. Do you know where you’re going?”

  Ayla looked down the road to the south, away from Hillside.

&n
bsp; “No. But I know where to start.”

  “Stick to the road until high sun. You should have until then. After that, they’ll use the dogs. Get clean and get out of that dress as soon as you can.”

  Ayla nodded and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Deetra directed her out of the door and pushed.

  “Now go.”

  She ran.

  CHAPTERFOUR

  Gifts from Mother

  Ayla followed the wagon ruts south until high sun, as instructed. Hillside Plantation bordered the Empire to the south and no one used the road anymore. She walked as fast as she could until the adjacent forest swallowed the forgotten trade route whole. The dogs would be on her trail soon, if not already.

  She trekked through the woods as day gave way to night. Ayla paid no mind to the burrs in her calloused feet or the howls of the coyotes that welcomed the gibbous moon. She thought of Deetra, and what they would do to her when they discovered Goreskin’s body. The idea of it chilled her bones, despite the heat and humidity. Ayla would go back for her one day, if for no other reason than to learn what happened to her. Deetra never cried, and so in her honor, Ayla refused to cry for her lost friend.

  She stopped at the edge of a wide clearing. Tiny curious eyes in the brush reflected the moonlight and the familiarity of it struck a chord of memory from the night before. On the other side of the clearing, a brook wound out of the woods, gurgling happily past the bottom of a long, steep embankment. Halfway across the moonlit clearing, she stepped over a broken, moss-covered wall, the foundation of some long forgotten building. This is where her mother had carried her, to this place. Holding her hands under her chin, she closed her eyes.

  “Mother, Goddess of the Night. Your daughter is in need, and begs humbly, to remember.”

  The dream returned to her; her mother in the street, the blood, the symbol on the door, the temple, her back on the cold stone, the Goddess, and what she told her.

  The temple can provide… Wash yourself in the brook, and then take what you need.

  Ayla opened her eyes. “Thank you, Mother.”

  She slid down the embankment to the water and found a wide, flat boulder. It stretched out over a deep pool with a small, trickling waterfall. She took off the torn dress and jumped in. The water came up above her head, but Ayla had learned to swim in the duck pond back at the plantation. She rolled onto her back, letting the cool water soothe the sting of Goreskin’s whip. Her mind drifted to the fate of Deetra. When the masters found Goreskin face down in his own blood, Deetra would take the blame, and they would kill her. Ayla hoped her mother and Deetra would find each other in the Goddess’ Abyss.

  Ayla ran a hand over her belly. She would join them soon enough.

  She stared up at the moon and listened to the chorus of frogs and crickets. North, the Goddess had instructed her; into the mouth of her enemy, Hornstall Keep. She had no idea what she would do there, or how to find free humans who might help her, but she had crushed Goreskin under her heel, just as her new Mother promised.

  Her life should have ended the night before, but The Goddess saved her. She no longer lived only for herself. If she died at Hornstall, she would go to her grave knowing her birth Mother’s murderer died at her feet, and she had repaid her debt to the Goddess. That was enough for one lifetime.

  Ayla turned over in the water. She rinsed the blood from her hair and body, then made her way to the shore. She held the dress up and examined the blood stains. It symbolized every memory she wanted to forget; Goreskin, his whip, leaving Deetra behind to die. She pulled it over her head and made her way back up the embankment to the clearing. All the while, she wondered why the Goddess would have her bathe first, then dig in the dirt for the chest of offerings.

  Her mouth fell open. Just over the dilapidated wall sat a large chest of dark wood with its lid open. The rubies and sapphires that decorated the metal bands around it glittered in the moonlight. Over the opening lay a long navy tunic, a pair of black boots, and a slender chain necklace with a steel hoop medallion.

  She picked up the hoop-shaped medallion first. It had no flat edges, like a polished steel loop of rope. At the top of the loop were two tiny gems set into the metal. She ran her thumb over them. Eyes. Set into the head of a winged serpent eating its own tail, they scratched her thumb like broken glass.

  It contains symbols of faith …

  Ayla laid it back down. The shadow of birds in the moonlight crossed the clearing. She looked up as she took off her dress. Some of the crows passing overhead landed in the trees overlooking the ruin. She dropped the heavy blood-soaked garment to the ground with a sigh of relief.

  Ayla smoothed the hair on the back of her head. She hadn't realized it was so short but had to admit she didn't miss its weight. She picked up the ancient tunic from the chest. Though it must have remained folded for hundreds of years, when she let it come undone, no creases marked the fabric. As she pulled it over her head, one of the crows in the trees behind her cawed. She dropped the hem down over her damp rear. Ayla folded her arms over her chest. Goreskin had ripped her undergarments. Even standing in the woods alone, she was uncomfortable without them in such thin clothing.

  She pulled on the boots. As she tied the second one, the crows exploded from the trees in a rush of wings, caws, and trembling branches. Ayla froze and strained her ears in the night. The brook babbled, but the frogs no longer called to one another by the water, or in the trees. Dogs barked in the stagnant air, calling from the wooded hills behind her.

  Her heart leapt to her throat. She had known the moment would come, but after the sunset started to hope it wouldn't. Ayla ran to the embankment over the brook. The yapping and barking of the hounds became more distinct. They were close - too close to run.

  Ayla bowed her head and whispered the prayer.

  “Mother, Goddess of the Night, your daughter is in need, and begs humbly, for -”

  A low growl rumbled a few feet in front of her.

  Caught. But how? The hunting dogs still barked from the distance.

  Ayla opened her eyes. A brindled coyote bared its teeth at her, its slender head low, front paws splayed. She held her breath. Every twitch made the animal snarl at her.

  It leapt. Ayla jumped away with a startled cry. The coyote snatched up her bloody dress and shook it in its jaws, then dashed down the embankment with his prize. Water splashed below, and brush rattled on the other side of the brook as it ran off. She let out a shaky breath and checked the chest. Pushing the folded tunics aside, she found an empty satchel. She took it and the handful of hardtack bread from the steel bowl beneath it.

  One of the hunting hounds howled a message to its masters just beyond the edge of the clearing. She was out of time. Ayla found a small water skin and stuffed it in the satchel. She threw the strap over her shoulder and stumbled down the steep embankment.

  Branches snapped, and dogs galloped over brush above and behind her. She stumbled and splashed into the water on all fours. A minotaur voice called out from the hill above. They were next to the temple.

  “We’re close!”

  Ayla laid down flat and submerged herself in the water. She lifted her chin and tucked the satchel under it to keep her face out of the water. Dogs barked and yipped just over the top of the ravine, then raced down the hill, a few yards behind Ayla in the pitch black. They cut across the brook, half a dozen of them in raucous pursuit.

  “Down this way!”

  Ayla held her breath, heart pumping so hard she was sure they could hear it. But the dogs kept running east - following the dress. Ayla remained in the brook, too terrified to move.

  When she deemed it safe, she got up and picked her way alongside the bank. She kept to the flat, wet stones, trying not to touch the brush in case the dogs doubled back. The water reflected the stars between the overhanging trees. Ayla walked until the brook tapered to a small stream. She stopped to fill her water skin in the last trickling section with a prayer of thanks. She tied off the skin and tur
ned to circle back north to Hornstall.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Hornstall Keep

  The clatter of hooves on stone echoed through the gulch as the minotaur led a horse-drawn wagon overhead. It made the transition from dirt road to cobblestone bridge with a bump, followed by a second bump moments later as wheels met dirt again. Ayla waited a few minutes after the wagon passed before returning to the road, with a wary glance in the direction she’d come - south. Apart from the wagon, she had not encountered another living soul since she lost the dogs in the woods three days ago. She reassured herself that the wagon wasn't looking for her as she jogged across. Not even Deetra knew Ayla’s - or rather, the Goddess’ - plan to venture deeper into the minotaur empire. Nevertheless, she checked behind her every dozen steps.

  Ayla left the road again but kept her path parallel to it as she waded through the waist-high grass. With no idea how far she still had to travel to reach Hornstall Keep, she occupied herself by examining her new medallion. She looped her finger through the steel hoop and held it up against the sky, contemplating the symbolism. The oldest slaves at the plantation believed snakes were reborn each time they shed their skin. She wondered what they would think of a winged one with a lizard head eating its tail.

  The waning moon rose a few hours after the sunset. It hung high in the clear sky among the glittering stars. Her stomach grumbled, and her legs were tired. The hardtack bread had gotten wet in the brook, which forced her to eat all of it before it spoiled. She’d finished the last piece the evening before and hadn’t had a bite since then.

  She found a sparse blackberry bush in a copse of red alders. Ayla picked it bare; the shriveled berries only made her hungrier. Hopefully, whomever she found at Hornstall would have some food. Even if they did, she still had no idea how long it would take to get there. Ayla took a sip from her water skin and laid down under the trees in her new, centuries-old tunic.

  The humidity and the discomfort of an unfamiliar place woke her in the last hours of the night. Ayla stretched, sat up, and re-tied her laces in a double knot. The leather of the boots had stayed supple despite the years in storage. She had thought them too big when she first saw them, but they fit as if made for her feet.