Priestess of War (The Bowl of Souls Book 10), page 1
The Jharro Grove Saga: Book Five
Priestess of War
A Bowl of Souls Novel
By Trevor H. Cooley
Trevor H. Cooley
Copyright 2016 by Trevor H. Cooley
Cover art © Renu Sharma www.thedarkrayne.com
Map by: Michael Patty on www.trevorhcooley.com
Books by Trevor H. Cooley
Noose Jumpers:
Book One: Noose Jumpers
Book Two: The Hangin’ Tree (2017)
The Bowl of Souls Series:
The Moonrat Saga
Book One: EYE of the MOONRAT
Book 1.5: HILT’S PRIDE
Book Two: MESSENGER of the DARK PROPHET
Book Three: HUNT of the BANDHAM
Book Four: THE WAR of STARDEON
Book Five: MOTHER of the MOONRAT
The Jharro Grove Saga
Book One: TARAH WOODBLADE
Book Two: PROTECTOR of the GROVE
Book Three: THE OGRE APPRENTICE
Book Four: THE TROLL KING
Book Five: THE PRIESTESS of WAR
Book Six: (Spring 2017)
Dedication
For Justin: My brother. My friend. In many ways you grew up with the characters in my books as much as I did. They were always a part of our games and I’m certain I bored you to death describing my story ideas. In many ways I patterned a lot of Fist’s attitudes off of you. Like him, I can count on you to make the right and big-hearted decision in every situation. I love you, man.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Epilogue
Right in Front of His Wanted Poster
Prologue
A few hundred yards away from Talon, two enormous armies faced each other in a wide valley. A meeting was being held in the center that would determine the future of those armies and all of Malaroo. None of them knew that an act of betrayal was planned. Not yet.
Talon clung to the tree she was hiding in and looked down on the clearing below. Durza knelt in the grass meekly, her arms folded while two Roo-Tan scouts with their magic wooden weapons watched her closely. One of them had the point of his gray sword pointed at her chest, while the other had an arrow drawn and ready to fire.
“Don’t ya get pointy please,” Durza said, smiling at the two men. The gorc’s head was topped with a filthy blond wig and she wore a ragged blue dress. Like most gorcs, her skin was a leathery mottled green, but her cheeks were covered in an obscene amount of rouge and her lips had been painted pink. “I waits nicely.”
“Silence, filthy thing!” the man with the sword spat with distaste. “Be grateful we did not gut you on sight.”
Talon did not move, but a low hiss escaped her lips. If her master’s instructions had not been explicit, Talon would have leapt down and slaughtered both men. Nevertheless, it was a struggle. She opened herself up to the calming magic of the black robe she wore, letting it soothe her anger.
On one level, she understood the men’s repulsion. Talon herself thought Durza’s insistence on attempting the human form of beauty ridiculous. Still, that was for her to think. These Roo-Tan men had no right. She hoped they did not give her further reason to attack them.
“I will be quiet. I is a quiet lady. I . . .” Durza’s voice trailed off and her back straightened. She pointed excitedly into the trees with one dirty finger and declared, “They come! That man and Deathclaws. They come! Uh, and a monster and a lady and another man!”
Talon shifted her position in the trees and glanced in the direction Durza indicated. Moments later, Sir Edge and his party came into view, led by a young man with blond hair. The named warrior was accompanied by his rogue horse and an unfamiliar woman wearing leather armor, but Talon barely spared them a glance. Her eyes were on her brother.
Talon hadn’t seen Deathclaw in many months. Not since the day she had attacked the Sampo refugees at the beginning of Ewwie’s war. The darkness within her surged towards the surface of her mind. She wanted to launch herself at him, caress him, claw him, bite him, taste his blood, and revel in the pain as he bit her back. Talon fought the compulsion down and stayed still. To reveal herself now would seem an attack and she needed them to listen to her master’s warning.
Deathclaw looked different in so many ways. He was broader at the shoulders and walked more upright than before and, in addition to the sword strapped across his back, he now wore a bandoleer of throwing knives across his chest. But perhaps strangest of all, the raptoid had somehow grown a pair of lips that pulled back from his teeth in a snarl as he saw Durza.
Talon’s brother darted forward, rushing past the two Roo-Tan men. He gripped Durza’s throat in one powerful hand. His voice was a familiar rasp. “Where is Talon, gorc?”
Durza’s eyes bulged with surprise. “Ack! Death . . . Claws! Don’t hurt . . . Durza!” She clutched at his wrist. “I’m . . . friend. ’Member me?”
“Don’t hurt her, Deathclaw,” said Sir Edge. “We don’t know that she’s done anything wrong.”
There was a casual tone of command in his voice. He was used to issuing orders and even more, he was used to them being obeyed. Talon blinked. Surely Deathclaw would not obey such a lazily given command. She was going to have to announce her presence and distract him before he killed Durza. To her surprise, the raptoid released the gorc as ordered.
Deathclaw hissed and flinched as he sniffed at the hand that had clutched the gorc. “She stinks!”
“That’s my perfoom!” Durza said with a frown, clutching at her throat and feeling for punctures. “Wanted to smell nice. Why you scratchedes me?” she complained. “Don’t wanna talk to you no ways. I comes to talk to Sir Edge.”
“We will take charge of her,” said Sir Edge to the two Roo-Tan scouts. “You can go back to your work. You too, Aldie.”
The two scouts accepted his command as readily as Deathclaw. They stepped back and lowered their weapons, then nodded and headed off into the trees, the blond-headed man trotting reluctantly after them. Sir Edge focused on Durza.
“I’m Sir Edge,” he said, a tone of reassurance in his voice. He walked towards her but stopped before coming within arm’s reach.
The rogue horse began prowling the perimeter of the clearing and Deathclaw turned his head, scanning the trees. Talon wondered if they suspected she was nearby. The pheromones she had emitted would keep them from sniffing her out, but it was still possible she could be seen. She held perfectly still, grateful when her brother’s eyes slid past her place of concealment.
“You are Sir Edge?” Durza said, her tone hopeful, though she already knew this to be true. She had sensed his spirit when he had visited their master’s house and Durza’s bewitching magic never failed her. The gorc stood, adjusting her wig and brushing off the skirts of her dress. “I am Durza. I’m a good friend. My Master tells me to find you.”
“Why?” Sir Edge said. “Who is your master?”
“My Master is the Stranger Man,” she replied.
The man frowned.
“The Stranger is in the meeting with the Protector right now,” said the tall woman with the bent nose. She wore armor made of runed leather and carried a gray quarterstaff strapped across her back along with a bow and quiver. “He seems to be on Aloysius’ side.”
“No!” said Durza. “He taked him!”
“I will find out the truth here.” The woman approached the gorc, reaching out her hand.
“It might not be wise to touch her,” Sir Edge warned. “We don’t know-.”
The woman gripped the gorc’s shoulder. Talon tensed as she saw a flash of spirit magic pass from Durza into the woman. The woman gasped, her eyes wide.
“Whatchoo doin’? That’s my brains!” Durza said in alarm, pulling her shoulder from the woman’s grasp.
The woman stepped back, letting out a slow breath. She swallowed. “She’s telling the truth. She and Deathclaw’s sister have been living with the Stranger for months. Talon came here with her. She’s around here somewhere.”
Talon’s eyes widened. How had the woman known?
“It’s over here!” said a child-like voice.
Talon glanced down and saw that a little dark skinned elf girl stood below the tree and was pointing up at her. Another surprise. Talon had no time to figure out where the child had come from because Deathclaw was there in a rush.
Talon’s brother shot up the tree towards her. Her breath caught in her throat and she barely had the presence of mind to suck in her gut and avoid being raked by his slashing claws. He grasped a handful of her robe instead.
“Deathclaw!” she hissed and launched herself at him.
She wrapped her arms around him and barely avoided his biting teeth as her weight
Talon managed to get one foot up between them and shoved herself out of his grasp. She rolled to her feet and let out a plaintive chirp in the old language of the raptoids, a plea for mercy. She held out both hands, her claws spread wide. “Sstop! My masster ssends me!”
Deathclaw was unmoved by her gesture. He leapt to his feet and drew his sword in one smooth motion. Talon knew the burning pain that sword could inflict. “You will not get away this time!”
“No!” cried Durza. “Don’t hurts her!”
Deathclaw lunged at her and lashed out with his sword. She ducked under the blow and rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the follow-up slash of his tail barb. From the corner of her eyes, she saw that Sir Edge had drawn his own swords and was keeping pace with them, looking for an opening.
“I am not here to kill!” Talon said insistently. She stepped backward, avoiding another slash of Deathclaw’s sword.
She never had understood his determination to kill her. In the past Talon had seen it as sort of a grand game, a game of pain she had been eager to play. But since the work of the Prophet and the Stranger to help her keep her madness at bay, Talon’s confusion had grown. What had she done to deserve the anger and determination that burned so brightly in his eyes?
Deathclaw maneuvered around Talon, forcing her to stay between him and the bonding wizard, Sir Edge. That other beast, the rogue horse that Sir Edge rode, growled ready to leap.
“She’s telling the truth,” said the tall woman with the bent nose unexpectedly. “At least Durza thinks so.”
The woman had drawn her bow and had an arrow fitted to the string. Though she didn’t look eager to shoot, something about her smelled dangerous.
“If that’s true, Talon, then stand still!” commanded Sir Edge. Now that his voice was directed at her, she sensed the authority that he radiated. He was an imposing man, tall and powerfully muscled, but that wasn’t what made a stab of fear strike her gut. This man had magic. She had felt it before and it hadn’t been pleasant.
Nevertheless, Talon slowed to a stop. He was right. There was no need to fight back and no need to hide. She threw back her hood boldly and turned her back on her brother to stare Sir Edge in the face. The look of revulsion that passed through the human’s eyes caused her to wince. His look was not that of a man who wished to listen. Her fear spiked again. Talon’s lips drew back from her razor-like teeth and she hissed hesitantly.
“Hold out your tail!” Sir Edge snarled.
Talon understood his intention immediately. This man knew of the potent venom that her old master Ewwie had placed in her tail. She lifted the base of her robe and slid her tail into view. Talon heard Deathclaw’s sword split the air behind her as he lopped the spiked barb off the end of her tail.
Any other creature would have cried out with the pain that shot up her spine. The bite of his sword felt like fire. Talon suppressed a gurgle of pleasure. To her this pain was as familiar as an old friend. Her tail barb would grow back. It always did. In the meantime, she hoped this gesture would cool the human’s anger long enough for her to deliver her master’s message. She forced a reassuring smile to curl the corners of her mouth.
As usual, Durza overreacted.
“Noo!” wailed the gorc at seeing her friend maimed. Durza unleashed a wave of bewitching magic that swept over the clearing, demanding that everyone drop their weapons.
The magic was overwhelming in its intensity. The humans faltered. The woman fell to her knees, her bow dropping from her fingers. Sir Edge’s hands loosened on his swords, his arms drooping. Even Deathclaw hissed, twitching as he resisted the spell. But the rogue horse was unmoved.
The enormous beast, a patchwork mix of scales and fur, leapt at Durza. It pinned her to the ground under its weight, its sharp claws ready to rip the life out of her. Durza cried out, desperately turning her magic on the beast.
“Sstop, Durza!” Talon demanded, pointing a long clawed finger at her friend. Durza whimpered, but dropped the attack. The wave of compulsion ceased.
Sir Edge shook his head, shrugging off the vestiges of the magic. “Don’t hurt her, Gwyrtha,” he said and his rogue horse backed off of the gorc, growling. He lifted his sword towards Talon once more.
Durza sobbed and looked at Talon with pleading eyes. Talon knew that her friend wanted nothing more than to flee. Unfortunately, that could not be. They had a message to deliver. If she died after that, perhaps it would be a blessing.
Talon pulled off her black robe and dropped it to the ground, no longer allowing its emotionally dampening powers to affect her. Her old instincts surged to the surface, but she ignored them and stood before Sir Edge and her brother boldly.
“Leave her be. Killss me if you need. Masster ssays not to let you killss me. But do it if you musst! I am broken. He triess to fix me. The Prophet triess to fix me. I try! But it iss hard. To die iss best! Durza can tellss you the message.”
“I think she’s being honest,” said the woman with the bent nose. She had been slower to recover from Durza’s magic than the others. She breathed heavily as she picked up her bow and rose back to her feet. “In Durza’s memories, Talon is trying to change. She struggles, but she tries.”
Sir Edge shook his head. “I’m sorry, but after all she’s done, I can’t just take your word for it.”
With that, the man darted forward, thrusting out with his left sword. Talon smiled, accepting her fate. The magical blade plunged into her belly.
Talon felt the steel of the sword part her skin, but there was no pain. It was sucked away by the sword. Her emotions left her along with the gibbering madness of the broken part of her mind. The urges were gone, nothing but empty voices.
This was the moment she had feared. This had happened to her the last time her flesh had tasted his blade. Talon was a creature who thrived on sensations and to have them taken away was something that went against everything she was.
Dispassionately, she felt the steel part her abdominal wall, severing loops of intestine and piercing a kidney on its way to protrude from her back. It would have been a dire injury for most, but Talon had survived worse. It was only the beginning, though.
She felt another familiar, but unwanted sensation as Sir Edge’s presence appeared in her mind. It was as though Edge’s thoughts had entered her through the sword. Talon’s mind had been violated this way once before by her old mistress, the Moonrat Mother.
Her thoughts were laid bare before him. He saw her daily struggle. Her indecision. Her desire for life and death. That wasn’t enough for him, however. He sent his magic further into her mind. He pulled her deepest memories to the surface, memories she had been forced to abandon, and as he did so Talon experienced them again.
She was a simple raptoid once more, a creature driven by instinct as she followed Deathclaw and the rest of her pack through the arid desert dunes seeking food. Once again, she lived through being paralyzed by magic and having her body deformed by Ewwie’s magic. She was taken back to his dungeons and subjected to experiments that had taken her beyond the limits of pain.
Only this time she saw the events subjectively, unable to feel the agony. She saw how the things Ewzad Vriil did to her should have killed her. But the innate adaptive and regenerative blood magic of her dragon heritage kept her body alive while her own indomitable desire to survive chose insanity over complete loss of reason. She had chosen to love him and the pain he gave her. She also began to enjoy dispersing that pain to others. Then the Moonrat Mother had come and broken her once again.
Experiencing it all again without emotion, it was more evident to her than ever how broken she had been. The things she had done were twisted and nonsensical. It was all so confusing. Even worse, it was hopeless. The Prophet and the Stranger had tried to fix her, but the old urges still existed.
