Song Of Fury (Gods Of Blood And Fire Book 2) Read online

  Syann shook her head. “You are starting to sound like my mother. It’s good that Hesperina’s children are safe. She lost Cem, isn’t that enough?”

  “She didn’t lose him, dear, your father cut his head off.”

  Syann folded her arms across her chest and acted if she hadn’t heard what Shiavaka had said.

  Both caught sight of the Queen of Hell making her way towards them. “I think it is a good time to go find my old seat, Syann. I’m not even sure I remember where it is.” As the Goddess of Magic passed the Mistress, both women gave the other a cordial nod.

  The dark goddess took Shiavaka’s place at her side. Syann had never really noticed how tall her mother was; the Mistress was a very imposing figure, though today she seemed a little on edge, which was very uncharacteristic for the queen of the underworld.

  “Mother,” Syann said casually.

  “What did your aunt have to say, dear?”

  “Nothing that would interest you.”

  “I don’t know why you insist on being hateful to me, Syann.”

  “I don’t mean to be, but every time I think you’re being genuine or sincere, it ends up being some sort of trick.”

  The veiled woman took her by the hand. She could feel no warmth through the gloves the Mistress wore. Syann remembered how much she had loved her mother when she was a girl, and now it was almost impossible to believe it was the same woman. It was hard to be close to her now, they had inflicted too much pain on each other, and neither one was sorry for it. There were occasions when she wished they could all return to the happier times of her childhood, but there was no going back.

  “Have you seen my granddaughter or did your father kill her too?”

  The question snapped her back to the present. Syann’s shoulders slumped and she pointed to a young woman with light brown hair standing near the end of the great table, with blue eyes and the face of an angel. A dreadful scowl covered the girl’s divine face when she saw Syann pointing her out.

  “Oh, I see her now,” the Mistress said, holding up her hand up in greeting. The young goddess returned the gesture with a slight incline of her head. Syann’s daughter Helana was dressed in golden armor, carried a unicorn horn bow, and had a golden sword strapped to her hip. Gifts from the Queen of Hell on the day she came of age.

  “She looks like she is still unhappy with you, Syann,” the Mistress remarked.

  The Goddess of Justice offered her daughter a nervous smile and the young woman gave her back a black look. “She has not forgiven me for refusing to help the Korlest woman and her children. Helana favors the woman, you know.”

  “You two and the mortals, neither of you have ever learned they are not worth bickering over. They are tools to be used, nothing more, but I do wonder why you refused, dear. Everyone knows you love to help the humans when you have an excuse,” the Mistress said mockingly.

  Syann looked away. “I thought it best not to interfere or take any mortal's part just yet. Besides, she has been safe enough traveling with K’xarr and Kian.”

  The Mistress laughed. “Those two will get the woman killed as surely as the sun rises. Not that anyone but Helana would really care, but I do remember you aiding the half-breed, don’t I? It just seems odd you wouldn’t help his woman.”

  Syann felt her face flush and her chest tighten. She hated the veil that hid her mother’s face. She could never be sure of the woman’s intent.

  “As for my granddaughter, she is much like your father. She sees things in only black and white, right and wrong. A person like that is terrible to deal with. I know it will be hard, but you must find a way to get yourself back in her good graces, Syann, or you could end up like me. With a daughter that has forgotten how to love her mother.” The Mistress let go of her daughter’s hand as if she had forgotten she still held it. “I should take my place at the table now. I hope we can speak again later?”

  The Mistress glided away and Syann quietly exhaled. Her mother had mercifully left the subject of Kian unrequited and she was glad of it. Her feelings on that subject were too confusing, but perhaps her mother was right about Helana. Maybe she should try to make peace with her daughter. She just didn’t know how without the insightful girl asking questions she did not want to answer.

  There was time for personal manners later. The queen would soon call the meeting to order. Returning her attention to the conclave’s attendees, she noticed Fane, Valintina, and Airius coming through one of the doors that led down into the mountain. She bit her lip as she watched Helana run to her father and throw herself into his arms, kissing his handsome face. Syann’s time with the God of Dawn had been brief, but she had gained Helana from the short-lived union. Her daughter’s birth had made the whole sordid affair worth the trouble.

  Airius didn’t give her a second glance now that he had taken up with Valintina. It didn’t bother her much, as she was glad Airius had found someone as vain as he was. Valentina’s arrogance and unfounded self-importance was legendary.

  Airius’ son Tobiah joined them. Valintina had given birth to the God of the Arts very near the time Syann had Helana, which said little for her relationship with the promiscuous God of Dawn.

  Tobiah was very…pretty in his rich red toga and golden sandals, but if Valintina had plans for him and Helana, the Goddess of Love was making a very big mistake. Her daughter was a warrior and huntress. She would never fall for the smooth-talking Tobiah, he wasn’t her type. If the little peacock tried to woo her girl, she would put a swift end to it. She grinned a little to herself. She was starting to sound like her father.

  ***

  Hesperina had just finished greeting Cem’s brothers Amulus and Mantel. Her position grew stronger and stronger as more of the elder immortals arrived. She had many supporters among those who had originally come to Saree, and her worries were beginning to diminish. She would reign now and no one would openly stand against her, even the Mistress would not dare try to usurp her throne. Too many of the most powerful gods would uphold her right to rule.

  Penelope was who she really wanted to talk with, but her sister had not arrived yet. She would know more about the sentiments among the immortals, for Penelope had stayed in touch with many of them while she had withdrawn to mourn Cem and mend her broken heart.

  Slowly the gods and goddesses began to take their seats. She would give it a little more time before she addressed the assembly. Hesperina wanted everyone who remained to hear what she planned for their return to Saree, and more importantly, she needed to know just how many allies she had before the inevitable intrigues would begin.

  ***

  Syann stood apart from the others as the room filled. Many of the gods had little to do with her because of her father and it did her little good to try to be kind and fair with everyone, she would always be the Reaper’s daughter. Soon, a woman emerged from the mountain’s lower levels that shared that same unearned mistrust. She was barefoot and clad in a simple, sheer white gown that revealed her perfect form. Syann quickly made her way to the newcomer and pulled the woman into her arms. “Aunt Octavia.”

  The Goddess of Nature fiercely returned Syann’s embrace. “Oh, my beautiful girl, I have longed for this day. It is so good to be home at last.” Octavia shook her untamed black hair out of her sun-blessed face. Only Valentina’s beauty could rival that of her father’s twin sister. “Is your mother here?” Octavia whispered.

  Syann pointed. “She is there near the head of the table, of course.”

  Octavia began to fidget with her gown and glance at the exits. “I need to speak with her after we find out what Hesperina has to say.”

  “You should know Mother is up to something, she has been entirely too pleasant. With all of us returning, she will no doubt be very busy scheming and planning her accursed conspiracies. Do you have any idea what she is up to?”

  Octavia gave her a cheerless smile. “You should not be so hard on her, Syann. Long ago, your mother was very different. Events in one's life c
an change a person, my dear. Someday I will tell you about your mother before she became the Queen of Hell. I think you will be surprised how much you and she were once alike. You should try hard to understand her, Syann. She loves you in her own peculiar way. As for what she plans to do now, who could say. Your father is the only one that ever seemed to know her mind.” Octavia gently pushed Syann’s hair back from her face and gave her a warm smile. “Enough of this gloomy talk, niece. Let us find our seats.” The two women joined the rest of the gods at the table as the last of the remaining immortals trickled in.

  ***

  Hesperina's lips were pressed tight and she slowly shook her head. Less than thirty immortals had answered her call thus far. There had once been over a hundred of them, was this all that remain of her people? Had that bloodthirsty bastard slain the rest? She knew the Beast still lived but would not dare show his treacherous face back on their mountain, he had long ago turned his back on the rest of them. The God of Evil sat alone in his temple in Sidia, pulling the strings of his vile minions.

  Yet for all his wickedness and immorality, he was the only one of them that still had a place in the world of men. The humans had incorporated the diabolical fiend into their new religion. Man had to have something to blame their evils on and that immortal renegade was a perfect choice.

  There could be others that hadn’t come for reasons of their own, but she felt most of what remained of the pantheon sat before her now.

  She was a bit concerned that she still hadn’t seen Penelope but she was not alarmed, the woman had always been late. Even when they had been children, her younger sibling never seemed to be able to get anywhere on time. Still, she felt she should ask if anyone knew her whereabouts, as she hated to call the court to order without the Goddess of Hope and Forgiveness in attendance. They would need both to mend some of the old feuds.

  Hesperina stood and raised her arm, quieting the room. “Has anyone seen Penelope? If she has arrived and is still inside the mountain, I would like someone to go get her please. It is time to begin.”

  Her grandson Kendarin stood. Dendera’s son looked a great deal like his father Airius. The handsome young god would not look her in the eye as he spoke. “She was killed, Grandmother. I saw the Reaper strangle her on the steps of her own temple before his capture. I wanted to help but…”

  “But you were too much of a coward,” a large man shouted, coming to his feet. He was bearded and possessed a massively developed physique.

  “Enough, Tagas, there is no need for that,” Airius said, slamming his hand on the table in his son’s defense.

  The God of Strength pointed his finger at Kendarin “She was our mother, Airius. How could he stand by and watched that fiend kill her? How can you condone such craven behavior, even if he is your son?”

  Airius came to his feet, eyes flashing in a rare display of anger. “Blaming my Kendarin will not bring her back. If he would have tried to help her, we would be mourning him as well. Now is not the time to place fault, Brother. We are all guilty in our failure to stand against Octavian.”

  Tagas sat down, grumbling to himself and giving Kendarin a murderous look. The God of Strength was not known for his forgiving nature. He would hold a grudge against his nephew now and everyone knew it.

  “I am sorry, my queen, the loss of your sister must be as heartbreaking for you as it is for me. My mother was a kind and loving woman, and we should honor her memory.” Airius sat back down, glassy-eyed, as Valintina tried to console him.

  Hesperina stood proudly and held her head high. Her vision was blurred and she wanted nothing more than to be alone now so she could cry out in rage at her sister’s terrible end, but she fought back the tears and the nausea that threated to overwhelm her.

  She knew she could not show weakness, not even at the news of her sister’s death, not now. “We will honor my sister and all that died at the hands of the Reaper after we have finished our business here today. I thank you Kendarin for your honesty. I know there was nothing you could have done to save Penelope.” The God of Trade's chin trembled and he crumbled into his chair.

  Hesperina’s hands clenched into fists as she turned to the God of Strength. “Tagas, you could not have stopped the death god either, it is contemptible of you to hold Kendarin’s actions against him, and it lessens you for it. This constant feuding among us must stop if we hope to achieve any kind of unity. I loved my sister, but now we must continue on. You know your mother would agree with me, the past must be let go before we can have a future.” The queen looked over those assembled, letting her words sink in before returning her gaze to the God of Strength.

  Tagas opened his mouth, but then simply hung his head and said no more.

  The queen seated herself and adjusted her fine dress. As much as it pained her, Hesperina knew she would have to mourn Penelope later. There was nothing she could do for her sister now. Looking down, she noticed her hands had started to shake again.

  There was a clap of thunder that startled everyone at the great table. Hesperina jerked and put her hands to her ears, searching for the cause of the noise. Her eyes settled on a tall figure that had materialized at the far end of the table.

  He was covered in sleek, black armor from head to toe. He carried a large sword on his hip and a heavy double-headed ax in his hand. There were several gasps from the assembly and Hesperina nearly fled her seat before she realized the man was not the Reaper, though he was nearly as bad.

  Nikodemos was the God of Death’s only remaining son. The mad god had found reason to kill his other male children over the millennia. Nikodemos was the only one that had endured Octavian’s fatherly hand. The Reaper would suffer no rivals.

  The Lord of Vengeance removed his large helmet. Like his father’s, it too was crested with elven hair.

  He looked too much like Octavian for Hesperina’s taste, black shoulder length hair and a short cropped beard, and those damn piercing black eyes. “My apologies. Queen Hesperina. Am I too late?” he asked with a slight bow.

  Hesperina could hear the arrogance in his voice; she gave the god a hard look, making sure he knew she didn’t approve of him or his interruption. “We have yet to begin. You may take your place, Nikodemos.”

  The Lord of Vengeance gave the other gods a hateful grin as he slowly made his way to his seat. He squeezed his large frame in between Syann and Shiavaka. “Little sister, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

  Syann touched his cheek. “I have missed you, Niko. Where have you been? I looked everywhere before Father was…”

  The god clutched his sister’s hand and kissed it gently, silencing her. “We will talk, I promise. Seeing you is one of the reasons I have returned.”

  “No greeting for your favorite aunt?” Shiavaka broke in from the other side.

  “Of course.” He gave the Goddess of Magic a brief hug. “I have missed you too, Doomcaster.”

  “It has been ages since I have heard that old name. Only your Father calls me that.”

  The queen tapped the table with her fine nails. “May I continue or should we wait for you to finish reminiscing?”

  “I am sorry, my queen,” Shiavaka said. “Please proceed.”

  “Thank you. There will be plenty of time for everyone to speak later, but for now, let us begin. There is much we must discuss.”

  “One moment, Hesperina,” a beautiful, dark-haired woman called as she came out of one of the mountains doorways. The goddess was accompanied by two young gods on each side. The Queen of the Gods sighed with irritation, as did many of the others.

  The woman slowing walked across the room, hips swaying back and forth with a practiced grace. The gossamer dress she wore was silver and made plain her considerable attributes.

  Hesperina had never been fond of Drusilla. Not only because she was one of Octavian’s sisters, but because Cem had always had an eye for the eccentric moon goddess. Drusilla had her two sons in tow. Both were known troublemakers, Tasel the Dream God
. who was obsessed with the mortals of Saree. and his irritating brother Ramiel, who was a bothersome buffoon. Because of his self-indulgent pranks and foolish jokes, the little God of Mischief had few friends among the immortals. “Please sit, Drusilla, you’re just in time.” Hesperina tried to sound pleased, but it was difficult. She knew that Drusilla’s late entrance had been completely intentional. The three took their seats and the conclave began.

  ***

  The court lasted much too long for the Mistress’s taste; Hesperina droned on and on about her designs to win back the people of Saree with benevolence, mystifying miracles, and little interference. She smiled and nodded while the queen spoke, putting on all the airs of an obedient goddess, even though she had no intention of following any of the decrees Hesperina had laid out for their return.

  It would take far too long to regain their power adhering to the queen’s designs. Who really cared if the humans revered them or not? This world was about power, nothing else. Hesperina was a fool. They would never be a pantheon of altruistic guardians, and none of them had ever truly cared about the people of Saree. They conquered this world because they had lost their own, it was as simple as that. Its inhabitants were nothing more than entertainment or weapons in their divine arsenals. Hesperina’s dreams of a golden age would be as fleeting as the lives of the mortals she wished to oversee. Their new queen wanted them to be as shepherds over a flock of sheep, but the Mistress knew they would always be wolves. It was their nature and none of Hesperina’s edicts could ever change that.

  There was no time to trifle with Hesperina’s lofty ideas. She had her own plans to set in motion, but first she needed to speak with her son. “Nikodemos,” she called in as sweet a voice as she could manage.

  The massive man was about to follow the others down into the mountain for feasting and further revelry, but he stepped away from the door when he heard her call. “Well, Mother, you look better than the last time I saw you.”