Belly of the Beast Warren Thomas (e novels for free .txt) 📖

around. A priest of Dakar ran up, black eyes afire in victory. Her hate flared up at the sight of him, then...

            “I know you!” Raven cried. “From the tavern and... Gods!”

            He said, “Remember, harlot!”

            For the first time, she remembered all that had happened that night in the tavern. Horror at what she had done erupted within her. Snarling, she tightened her grip on Tasheba and prepared to launch herself upon the leering cleric.

            “Don’t move!” Nizar command.

            Raven gasped, her body frozen in place and violently trembling. Tasheba suddenly burned in her grasp. The sword had never done that before.

            He’s using God Magic to bewitch me! she thought, wild-eyed. Tasheba was fighting the priest’s magic, but some of it was still making it past the sword’s protection. The enchantment was never intended to thwart God Magic. Ashtar! Save me!

            “Give me the sword,” Nizar said, holding out his hand.

            Raven straightened before him and took a step forward, Tasheba held out. She couldn’t believe what she was doing. Tasheba was supposed to protect her from magical attack, and if that wasn’t an attack she didn’t know what was.

            “No!” she growled, gaining a small measure of self-control. Her muscles burned with effort, but she gritted her teeth and held on. “I will not surrender to the likes of you.”

            “Give it to me, harlot,” Nizar snapped, thrusting out his open hand.

            His magic rushed over her, drowning her in arcane power. She wanted to obey. She needed to obey, but knew she must not. But he was too strong.

            Her feet moved toward the priest of their own volition, despite her frantic attempt to halt them. Visions of her recently escaped slavery leapt into Raven’s mind. Her mindless obedience to her former masters and trainers mocked her as she stepped closer and closer. He had the same self-satisfied smile the men and women who twisted and perverted her innermost self had worn, day in and day out.

            Ashtar, don’t let this happen to me again! she cried silently, now unable to voice her thoughts. The priest reached out and grasped Tasheba, his black eyes bright in victory. My Goddess, I love you! Please don’t desert me!

            Raven felt tears roll down her cheeks as he pulled Tasheba from her grasp. He regarded her a moment with terrible eyes, obviously well-pleased with himself. It sickened her to see Tasheba in his grasp, now his sword.

            As he looked her over, she saw no sign of the desire he had shown in the room above the tavern. Instead, she saw only hate and contempt. Reaching out, he grasped the chain around her neck that held her medallion and jerked it off her neck.

            “Ashtar’s Own,” he said, leering at her. Dropping the medallion to the ground, he ground it deep into the moist soil beneath his heel, saying, “I vanquished Ashtar Herself once, and now I enslave her servant.”

            “No!” she screamed, rage at his blasphemy overwhelming his arcane control of her body.

            Before he could react, she was upon him with smashing fists and battering feet. She hammered at his face, then clawed at it, trying to gouge out his hateful black eyes.

            A noise behind her alerted Raven to zombies closing on her. But before she could turn and face them, something smashed into her head. Light and blackness flashed behind her eyes, staggering her. Then strong hands seized her arms and legs, dragging her to the cold, wet ground.

            When she regained her sight, she saw the priest being helped up. He was bleeding from both ears and his nose. His lips were smashed, and his face was beginning to swell. Raven felt quite pleased with what she had done, until he turned to face her. The look he turned upon her chilled Raven to the bone. Never had she seen such pure, unadulterated hatred.

            “I will enjoy cutting your heart out to feed my Divine Master, harlot,” he snarled. Closing his eyes, he spoke a brief pray, and his features blurred for an instant. Then he grinned at her, all his injuries healed. “No one will be able to restore you when I’m finished with you. And your soul will not go to Ashtar, but will be devoured by my Divine Master.”

            He reached out and touched her forehead, feeling like cold fire on her hot flesh, and stripped her of consciousness.

Chapter 53

            Joelle stopped in her tracks. Something had happened to Raven. She wasn’t behind them anymore.

            “What’s wrong?” Tane said, turning to regard her with worry.

            “They’re gaining,” Joelle said. “Keep going.”

            Tane nodded and continued on. She was thankful that he was so trusting. Another might have pressed her for a more concrete answer. But she couldn’t tell him what she suspected. He wouldn’t take the loss of Raven well, and might try to go back for her. Joelle’s first and only consideration was to get Tane to Caeren alive.

            Blessed Maag, I’m doing the right thing, but why do I feel so dirty?

            Praying that Raven had fallen honorably, and hadn’t been taken alive, Joelle continued her sliding trek down the trail behind Tane. She considered several spells she still had enough hoarded life energy to fuel. None of them would solve their problem, or even guarantee that Tane would escape. All of the spells would leave her totally exhausted and helpless before their enemy, unable to even defend herself with sword and dagger.

            Looking to the heavens, she asked Maag for the courage if the time came to sacrifice herself. And asked her Goddess to look over Armin.

            The run down into the flood plain seemed to drag on forever. Joelle was thankful for the army training she received. Before being forcibly inducted she and Armin rarely even considered the need for strengthening their endurance. They were cavalry, and only held ground-pounders in utter contempt. If not for the army endurance training, brief as it was, she