The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,151
me greatly.”
“I’m happy to hear you are satisfied, my Lady.”
“I also see the potential for even more pleasing efforts from you, armed with such a boon. Still, there will be a significant cost in granting you this gift, my Lisitsa. Are you prepared to pay it?”
“I am, my Lady.”
She held out her sharp, spindly arms. “Then come and embrace me.”
Sonya did not allow herself to hesitate. She immediately stepped into the cold, hard embrace of the Lady Marzanna. The Lady’s thin arms wrapped around her like vines, pinning her own arms to her sides, and pulling her off her feet.
The icy, flesh-covered vines continued to coil around her until she was entirely covered except her face. She could not move or even turn her head. Panic hovered at the edge of her mind, but she forced it back. This was what she wanted. It was what she had asked for. The choice had been hers, and if it would mean allowing her brother to live and still fulfill her goals, then she would accept the cost.
The vines pulled down on her jaw until her mouth was forced open.
“One by one, these will pay the price,” the Lady whispered into her ear like the gentle slash of a razor. “Then surely victory will be yours.”
The Lady reached into Sonya’s mouth and slowly, carefully wrenched out the first tooth. The sharp crack was accompanied by a bolt of pain and the bitter taste of her own blood. She unconsciously strained against the flesh-covered vines that bound her, and tears rolled down her cheeks, but she forced herself to remain silent, swallowing the groan that boiled in her belly.
“One by one…,” the Lady Marzanna whispered again.
Then she reached for the second tooth.
PART FIVE
THE BATTLE OF SESTRA RIVER
“I pity those who live in peace;
For they will never know
The heady thrill of wrath’s release,
Or the beauty of blood-stained snow.”
—Orlov Gorvinovski, “To Taste Death But Once”
60
Sonya knew the mind was incapable of recalling pain. That was a blessing. But she did sometimes wonder if the body might have its own memory, one in which suffering could be deeply etched. The world seemed different to her now, though it was difficult to say in what way exactly. Not darker, because her fox eyes allowed her to see more than her human eyes ever could. Not quieter, because nothing escaped her fox ears. Perhaps… harder? Heavier? Neither of those were right, but for now they were the closest she could get.
The Uaine had set up camp a day’s ride west of Gogoleth. As she led Peppercorn between tents, many of the warriors waved to her. She waved back energetically, greeting them by name if she recalled it, although her cheerful attitude was not entirely authentic. Her recent experience with the Lady seemed to drag down at her soul, and ever defiant, she insisted on fighting its weight. She would not let trauma change her.
Mordha’s tent was the largest, and therefore easy to spot. She made her way there and found him deep in discussion with Angelo. They were speaking in the Uaine language, so she didn’t know what it was about, but they sat on the ground, looking at a rough, hand-drawn map of the area, so she suspected they were considering the strategy for their assault on Gogoleth.
“There ye be, Sonya,” said Mordha. “Blaine told us about yer brother. Ye find a way to fight his magic?”
“I have,” she said.
He smiled at her, showing yellow teeth in his thick beard. “Good. Let us make our final plans for the battle, then.”
Mordha sent one of his men to gather the others. A short while later, Blaine and his father arrived, followed by the other clan chiefs and their captains. Soon after, Jorge and Rowena arrived, along with the other necromancers. Mathilde crept in nervously, no doubt intimidated by the crowd of large, boisterous Uaine who filled the tent. Sonya was delighted to see that there was another familiar face with her.
“Olin!” She rushed over to the old man who had helped set her broken arm all those months ago.
“You remember my name?” The old man looked pleased.
“Of course! I gave you one of my claws,” she said.
He patted a small pouch at his waist. “I carry it with me always, Strannik.”
“Olin was the one who told us to go looking for you in the first place,” said Mathilde. “I didn’t even believe it was possible a true Ranger was among us until he showed me that claw.”