Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3) (48 page)

"I saw your friend recently," at last the goddess deigned to explain herself. "I have need of him."

"Max? What for?" There must have been something in my face or tone, as her frown grew deeper.

"Not for the reason you think, demon!" she snapped at me. "He wouldn't have survived it. Or are you worried about your sister?"

"What about my sister?"

"Nothing! I have no interest in her," swirling the cognac in her glass, Sata took another sip, and peered at me intently. "I need your friend for a mission of great importance."

"What does it have to do with me?"

"You really have to ask?" This was probably how Alyona used to look at me back when we were kids and I took a candy from her—for educational purposes, naturally. "You were the one to drag your loved ones into this mess! It matters not to the prophecy if you're a demon or an elf! And after doing a kindness to your friend, I too got dragged into this story up to my neck."

"What story are you talking about?" I asked, fighting down the fury rising inside me, and hoping it wasn't coming out in my voice.

"I cannot tell you that," she sighed, and emptied the rest of her glass.

"Game rules?" I grunted.

"What?"

"Well, gods shouldn't be able to meddle in the affairs of players on a whim..." I started to explain, but she cut me off with a wave of the hand.

"The rules you speak of don't apply to my kind. They vanished along with the birth of this world. Just like this," the goddess blew an invisible dust speck off her palm. "Rather than say foolish things, you should be pouring me more cognac."

"But how?" I asked in surprise, refilling her glass with more of the dark leathery liquid. "Both Ingvar and Kirana said that—"

"I don't care what they said!" Sata chuckled bitterly, taking another sip.

Damn!
I thought in panic.
She's getting plastered like a regular barfly!
I didn't know how alcohol affected deities, but judging by Sata's shiny eyes the process hardly different from ordinary beings. I had never interacted with drunken goddesses, and I would rather not start now. What if I said or did anything to offend her? She could just snap her fingers and this entire camp would go poof!

"You've been pulled into the prophecy, dreamer!' the woman continued in the meantime. "Even gods can only influence you indirectly. Do you realize the significance of this? Consider that Ingvar accepted you in his Order. Celphata is keeping her priestess at your side. Kirana gave you that black monstrosity with a snout. You even got a gift from Syrat for crying out loud! Were you just an ordinary being that Ingvar was interested in, he could have just annihilated Craedia and given it to you! Or simply sent you to the higher realm. That is what you want most of all, isn't it?"

"But..." My head was spinning from her words.

"Even I can't help you," finishing off her current portion of cognac, Sata put the glass back on the tale. "I only managed to find you thanks to your friend's help."

"What can I do? What is it you want from me?"

"Well, I can see what
you
want from
me
—it's written on your face," the goddess chuckled. "Go on, keep it coming," she nodded at the empty glass, "and I'll tell you what I want."

So you caught me staring at your chest, big deal. Especially after the dry spell I've had,
I thought in frustration, getting out a new bottle. I'd like to see someone say to a goddess, "No, honey, I think you've had enough." I sighed. Wherever this was going, I knew I had precious little control over how it would end...

"Anyone involved in a prophecy can only see their own part in it. For instance, I can only see the potential consequences for myself and the ones I care about. Celphata sees only what pertains to her directly. Do you understand?"

"What a peculiar prophecy," I grumbled, upending the cognac into my mouth. "Everyone's talking about it, but no one really knows what to expect."

"That's not quite right," Sata said, shaking her head, and pointed her finger to the ceiling. "A war will soon be unleashed up there, the likes of which that world has never seen. I personally see about two hundred different scenarios of how it could unfold, and I'm only good with sixteen of them. If it weren't for your friend, the war would have bypassed me, or I could have somehow influenced its outcome, but what's done is done..." Sata rose sharply from her chair, and before I knew it she was inches away from me. Putting her hands on my shoulders, she peered into my eyes. "Don't abandon the castle with the four red towers, Dark One. When the siege begins, you must stay there and help the defenders defeat the Beast! Even your death may remedy the situation. No matter what, you mustn't leave the castle before the Ancient Beast is no more!"

"But—"

"You must swear on the true blood! And when this is all over, I will help you recover everything you will have lost in death!"

"Stop..." I said softly.

Her fragrance—a mix of cognac and some exotic herbs—was making my head spin. The huge pools of her eyes appeared to have absorbed the whole world. Her lips were so close to me, beckoning, but... Too many men throughout history had been derailed at this very bend. And I wasn't about to let myself be a blind pawn in somebody else's game. Thanks to Altus and his gift of mental resistance for allowing me to think soberly in such sticky situations.

What was I looking at here? The favor of a goddess in return for one death? No problem! But what was her end game?

"Will my death be final, or will I resurrect?" I asked her.

"I don't know," with a barely audible exhale, Sata removed her hands from my shoulders and sat back down in the chair. After a moment's silence, she said: "I honestly don't know, but if you swear that vow, I will do everything possible to get you out of wherever you end up."

"I see. What about the people I care about—will it put them in danger?"

"If you mean your sister and your friend, then I swear to you that it won't," she assured me. "Believe me, killing that beast would remedy a great many problems. It won't only be me you'd be helping..."

"I suppose you will tell me neither the name of the beast nor of the castle?"

"I cannot," Sata nodded, confirming my suspicions. "But you will recognize him right away."

This entire performance, with the attempt at mental influence in the end, had been deliberately crafted to get me to consent. And now the goddess was peeved, ostensibly thinking that, having recognized and rebuffed her manipulations I would surely decline, and there was nothing she could do about it. But were I to refuse my part in this action, what would she do? And what would happen if her fears were to actually materialize? None of those scenarios boded well for me, of that I was certain. Moreover, going along would mean safety for Alyona and Max—a goddess' word surely meant something. As for assuring my death, well, that remained to be seen! Feeling sick and tired of this rigmarole, I picked a knife up off the table and made a cut across my wrist. As the blood trickled from the cut and onto the floorboards, I spoke softly:

"I swear by the true blood that I will not abandon the castle with the four red towers when it becomes besieged by the Ancient Beast! I will do everything in my power to destroy it, and won't depart from the castle until the monster is dead!"

One might think that such an ambiguous vow could be interpreted a myriad different ways, but that just wasn't the case in a world without lawyers. I would undoubtedly recognize the location and the beast, and would be forced carry out what I'd promised.

The goddess listened to the words of my vow in silence, nodded with satisfaction and rose from her chair.

"You know, Dark One, somehow I knew you wouldn't refuse me. You're a lot like your friend, or maybe he's a lot like you." Her eyes narrowed slyly, and she continued with a smile. "You've fulfilled my desire... Now why don't I fulfill yours? Especially since I just saw another scenario of how the future might unfold."

In an instant Sata was on my lap, her hands sliding around my neck and her tail around my midsection.

"Your friend is with your sister, so he couldn't. But you can," she whispered into my ear. "And besides, you wouldn't throw a buzzed woman out into the night, would you?"

With all the mental resistance in the world, there was no resisting this. This woman had just transcended the algorithms upon which the game was built. Surrendering to those insistent lips, I rose carefully and carried my precious load toward the bed.

I woke up the next morning from sentries calling the camp to rise. I lay there with my eyes open for a moment, remembering the events of the night before, and eased my body into a pleasant stretch.
The soundproof tent sure came in handy,
I thought, getting up off the bed. Despite the fact that I'd slept barely more than an hour, my mood couldn't be better. And little wonder, too, waking up from the best night I'd had since starting my life in this world. I smiled at the woman lounging in an armchair, and began putting on my clothes. 

Those fox's tail and ears, having magically vanished during the night's festivities, were back in place. The Mistress of Fortune's face was dark and deeply reflective. 

"You know, back in the world I come from certain races have legends of foxes that have nine tails," I said to the woman simply to break the silence. 

"Yeah, right!" the remark brought a smile to my night companion's face. "Imagine how big their asses would be," she reasoned, spreading her arms wide like a fisherman boasting about the size of a fish he'd caught. "Are you sure you're thinking of foxes and not rats?"

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," I laughed, devouring the beauty sitting before me, and feeling tremendous gratitude to all the fans of Japanese anime on Earth.

 "You know, Dark One..." she paused, contemplating something. "The last scenario I mentioned seeing before we, uh..." she blushed in the most charming way, her tail lashing at the floor. "Anyway, that scenario is very much within the realm of possibility. But it will require considerable risk on my part."

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," she said with the air of someone who had just made a decision of great importance. "It's too early for you to know just yet." 

"Well, then, good luck with all that," I blurted out, realizing immediately how asinine it sounded as she laughed wholeheartedly in response. Once done laughing, the woman slipped out of her chair and threw her arms around my neck.

"I must go, Dark One," she said with a sad smile. "I've already lingered too long." 

Sata got up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine... Just as Gorm, Elnar and Vaessa walked into the tent. Our morning briefing, of course!

"It really was a magical night. We should do it again sometime," the goddess purred, drawing back from my lips and completely ignoring the new arrivals. "Take care, darling, and
good luck
," with a mischievous wink, Sata vanished in my arms. Mic drop!

I must have stood there a solid minute in total silence, staring at the cracks in the floorboards.

Eventually it dawned on me that time was still ticking, and I looked up from the floor at my visitors.

The looks on their faces said everything. If you shackled a person to the rails with a locomotive rushing at them at top speed, their expression probably wouldn't be as dramatic. Only if said locomotive were to end up being immaterial and drove over said person without causing them any harm, that expression would probably come close to what I was seeing now.

"It's not what it looks like," I tried to explain to my companions. "Well, it is what it looks like, but not really. There's more to it than that..." Suddenly realizing the absurdity of the scene, I waved at them with both hands in frustration. "Oh, screw you guys!" Then I whipped out my pipe and lit up. 

My wave set into motion the following actions. Having mumbled something unintelligible, Elnar tumbled out of the tent as if he was on acid. Gorm, who was looking at me as if I were Elvin Presley reborn, walked around me carefully to the table, snatched up the opened bottle of cognac and, dispensing with the etiquette he so assiduously espoused, put the bottle to his mouth. And only Vaessa, her psyche hardened from decades of interaction with all manner of distasteful creatures, gave an appreciative whistle and said with sincere wonderment in her voice.

"You are something else, dar! I mean, I knew you were special, but this! Elnar told me, but stupid me, I didn't believe him."

"Wait a minute," I frowned, looking at the door. "You don't think he'll tell anyone?"

"Of course he will," she gave me an astonished look. "Elnar is a respectable tifling in every respect, but to not tell an army marching on Craedia that their commander is sleeping with the goddess of fortune would be a war crime of the worst kind."

Having finally killed off the bottle, Gorm looked back at me, gave a conspiratorial wink, and made for the chest. For another bottle, evidently. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I sat down on the bed and considered the situation. Vaessa came over and took a seat next to me. Shouldering me playfully, she said:

"You don't think we're leaving here without the full story, do you?"