To Kill a God by C.S. Wilde

Chapter 17

Bast’s gazedidn’t leave the siren. She sat with her wrists and ankles tied together, glaring at him with pure, undiluted hatred. Her beady yellow eyes had long since turned hazel, her fins and gills receded, and her dark-gray skin acquired a healthy rosy shade.

“You must despise looking human,” he remarked with a grin. “Why do you resemble him in your original form? Is it magic?”

“Magic and technology, landrider.” Her lips formed a bitter line. “Atlantea will soon be ours, and Tagrad will follow. Resistance is futile.”

He didn’t feel threatened, not one bit. Considering Azinor’s strength, perhaps he should have. “We’ll see about that.”

“Prepare to land, lads!” Captain Flint called out from the bridge, and the crew began preparations.

Bast crouched, staring directly at the siren. “You’re a resilient one, I’ll give you that. But you see, I’ve lost my patience.”

She raised her chin in contempt. “I’ll die before telling you anything.”

“No, you won’t.” Pushing his fingers against her temple, he closed his eyes.

It would have been better if she’d talked, since he couldn’t see clearly into someone’s mind, but this would have to do. Sure, he could blur her thoughts to make the akritana forget certain memories, maybe even input new ones if he was lucky, but getting a front row seat to what went on in her head would be difficult, if not impossible.

He soon caught glimpses of Azinor with half his face missing. The shig looked like a walking nightmare. Flashes of akritanas wearing moss-green suits came up, hundreds and hundreds of them. They gathered in caves, hiding, waiting in the dark with bright, feral eyes.

A force pushed him out of her head, and Bast nearly stumbled back. She was fighting him. The siren was the ruler of her own mind, which meant no matter how hard he fought her, she would win.

Tapping his knees, he stood. “I didn’t want to do this, but you leave me no choice.”

A string of darkness bloomed from his palm, wrapping around the woman’s left ankle. Smoke billowed from the wound as the whip tightened, nearly reaching the bone. The siren’s screams split the air, but the crew kept on with their duties, ignoring her.

“Speak,” Bast ordered, his voice drowned by her loud wails.

“Stop!” she cried, tears drenching her cheeks.

He eased his darkness just a little. “Yes?”

With a gulp, she tried to steady her breaths. “He wants to take it all. Land and sea, they will be ours soon.”

“And how does he intend to do that?”

“With blood and fury, landrider.”

His whip tightened around her ankle, burning through the bone.

“Stop!” she bellowed again.

“Last chance.”

“He will conquer Atlantea when he’s stronger. He wants the princess’ power. She’s the only one who—” The siren gasped, eyes widening. She clawed at her throat while black veins spread under her skin.

“Halle!” Bast shot his magic against the spell taking over her—a fail-safe Azinor must have enchanted her with in case she was caught. “I need a healer!”

“We lost him in the attack, lad!” Flint rushed closer, assessing the woman. His eyes glowed a bright gold, so did the tattoos around his body. He pushed his power into her, but his shoulders soon dropped. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Fuchst ach!” Bast grasped the siren by the lapel of her bodysuit. “Speak! Make him pay for what he did to you!”

Her skin turned purple, her eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets as she tried to breathe. “It ends,” she wheezed, “in fire and lightning.”

With one last exhale, the siren’s form went limp. Her eyes rolled back in her skull, and her mouth gaped open, forever reaching for air.

“Fucking shig!” Bast let her go just as the ship anchored near a beach.

Rage took over him, and his wings flashed to life. Against Flint’s protests, he flew up, drawing an arch in the air.

“We have to stay together!” the captain yelled. “Come back here!”

Bast landed on the beach with a loud thump, stirring the sand. Narrowing his eyes, he noticed a forest ahead, where humans dressed in rags that barely covered their privates watched him from behind the trees.

The natives of the isles.Humans who worshipped sirens as gods, or any supernatural creature for that matter.

They held wooden bows and arrows, but their arms shook in fear, stopping them from taking proper aim.

“Sebastian!” Flint yelled from above as a nightling carried him. “This is my mission and my territory!”

The captain nearly toppled forward when his nightling hit the sand. The rest of the crew dropped behind Bast like ripe fruit.

The fae’s wings quickly disappeared, and they clutched their hands behind their backs, waiting for Flint’s orders. Mr. Snipes patted his coat, and thanked the nightling who’d carried him with a kind smile.

Flint fixed his hat stubbornly, then stomped toward Bast. “I don’t care that yer royalty. I don’t care ye desperate for yer lass. You will do as you’re told, aye?”

“I’m sorry,” Bast admitted quietly, knowing his temper had taken the best of him. “I just… I need to contact her. I’m tired of running around in circles.”

He lifted one finger too close to Bast’s nose. “Next time, do as I say.” With a grumble, the captain pulled down the hem of his shirt, then nodded. “Go on. I’ll start the usual proceedings.”

He turned around and waved at the natives with a grin.

“Habakima!” the humans called out, bright smiles taking over their faces.

Flint opened his arms, and the natives dropped their makeshift weapons, coming out of the forest to greet him.

Ignoring the crew, the natives, and the two warlocks behind him, Bast looked up to the bright summer sky.

The deep blue was devoid of any clouds, which must be a rarity in isles that were covered in fog during most of the year. He then turned to the vast ocean and closed his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin.

It took him a while to catch Mera’s presence. It pulsed on the other side of their bond, but he couldn’t reach her. She was still too far away.

Halle.

He would have to go for a swim, wouldn’t he?

“Lad, open yer eyes,” Flint’s voice called out from behind him.

Bast followed his command, and immediately stepped back. Bald, grey heads peeked out of the water, popping out of the surface like pixie blooms.

The sirens stomped toward the beach with bloodthirsty grins. There were too many of them—forty at least—against the remaining crew of the Marauder, not more than fifteen souls.

They wore the usual moss-green bodysuits, most of them carrying rusty swords. Yet, a few of them held bulky weapons similar to the guns used during the first attack, only these bigger beasts clearly packed more power.

Rushing back, Bast acquired a battle stance alongside Flint and the crew.

The island natives yelled in the background, standing back with their feeble makeshift weapons, lost on what to do. All too quickly, however, they decided to flee toward the forest.

A wise choice, really.

Without hesitation, the sirens took aim and fired, but Bast raised a magic shield around the crew just in time. His darkness popped up in small portals that swallowed the thick, blue blasts before vanishing.

“I won’t be able to hold them off for long,” he grumbled.

Flint cracked his neck left to right, his eyes shining a bright yellow, the same color of the tattoos across his body. “Then we better charge.”

He ran forward, letting out a battle cry. The nightlings and Mr. Snipes followed, while Bast pulled two whips of darkness that bloomed around his wrists, charging after them.

The sirens rushed forward and shot frantically, but most of the crew’s magic shields were enough to protect them. Just as they clashed against the shigs, Bast winnowed, appearing next to the woman who led the front.

It took him a second to snap her neck. He then winnowed away just as a male close by pulled his gun’s trigger. A blue sphere shot from the muzzle, hitting another akritana in the head. Bast reappeared behind the shooter in an eye-blink. The baku turned to him in horror, gawking as a whip of darkness wrapped around his neck and squeezed, chopping off his head.

A heavy exhaustion weighed on Bast, and he drew a sharp breath while tiny blue comets slammed against his magic shield. He shouldn’t winnow so much, since using that sort of magic depleted his energies. Also, he hadn’t fully recovered from the previous battle.

Not far from him, Flint’s golden lightning shot forward, hitting three sirens at once. Mr. Snipes dodged an attack from the left, only to slam his sword through an akritana’s torso.

One blue blast hit a nightling near Bast in the stomach, and she fell limp on the sand. Another nightling shoved his sword into an akritana’s chest, but forgot to keep up his magic shield. His body swelled and blew into a thousand pieces, as did the nightling next to him.

“Shields up!” Bast bellowed, even though his brothers of night might not be strong enough to fight and keep their shields at the same time.

A blue sphere zinged far too close to his head, and his nostrils flared. Bast’s whip yanked the gun from the siren’s grip with ease, delivering it to himself.

“Night Prince!” Mr. Snipes called out, and Bast turned left to see he also carried one of the siren’s strange guns.

The warlock fired at Bast’s enemy, and Bast covered his flank in return, neutralizing two akritanas with one blast.

He stared at the weapon. He didn’t usually approve of guns, but halle, he approved that one.

On they went, shooting non-stop, but there were too many sirens. More rose from the water, accompanied by something… Blinking, he wondered if he’d lost his sarking mind.

Shaped like a siren, the thing was made of cogs and wheels that whirred madly underneath silver plates; panels that formed its skin. Its round, neon-red eyes shone without any sign of a soul within it. The machine walked in an unnatural manner, its movements jerky and heavy.

Mr. Snipes frowned, nearly dropping his gun. “What’s that?”

When the thing stepped on dry sand, it turned toward them with a metallic, shrill sound. Its jaw snapped open, and its chest shone a bright, ruby-red that beamed from the back of its throat.

“Take cover!” Bast bellowed, just as the thing vomited red light.

He jumped in front of the blast and raised a large shield. The impact slammed against his power; against Bast himself, pushing him back. Every bone in his body thrummed, a merciless pain squeezing him from the inside out. He fell to his knees in the sand, panting. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the remaining nightlings, Flint, and Mr. Snipes gathered behind his shield.

The thing didn’t stop spewing scorching light at them.

“Hecate’s hells,” Flint grumbled under his breath. “We can’t beat them.”

When the machine snapped its mouth shut, it emitted a sound similar to when the guns reloaded. However, the remaining sirens didn’t give them any time to recover. They shot at Bast’s shield while marching closer.

Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to hold the shield, but if that thing fired again, specially from up close…

“Bast!”

He lost a breath as Mera’s voice flowed through their bond.

Within seconds, Blue blasts came from behind their assailants, shooting them down one by one. Their enemies turned around, firing back at the group that attacked them.

The newcomers were also sirens, but they wore black bodysuits with silver details similar to Flint’s coat.

Leading them was none other than Mera, wearing an onyx bodysuit that fit her curves perfectly. She had a silver belt wrapped around her waist, and a weapon in her hand. Her russet hair fluttered like a flag as she rushed out of the water.

His hart fired at their enemies, and when they fired back, patches of ice bloomed out of thin air, shielding her from the attacks just like his darkness did.

A blonde siren with hair trapped in a low ponytail covered her flank, shooting at Azinor’s soldiers without mercy. She never missed her targets.

“Attack!” Flint shouted, dashing forward. The remaining nightlings and Mr. Snipes followed him.

“Mera!” Bast wanted to run to her, but he was so spent that all he managed was to crouch on the sand. Taking deep breaths, he focused, pulling from the little magic left in his body.

How could he be so weakened?

Bast had gone through harder fights in his life. He should have recovered by now… or perhaps, he was being too hard on himself.

The machine standing ahead glanced at him without any emotion. It stepped closer, its metallic jaw opening. A red glow beamed from the back of its throat, drenching Bast in blazing light.

This was it. This was how he met his end.

At least he’d seen Mera one last time.

“No!” she bellowed.

An ice spear pierced into the gaps between the thing’s metallic plates, jamming the whirs and cogs inside it. Soon after, a blue blast hit its head, burning a hole through its skull. The machine’s remaining red eye flickered, but the engines in its head still whirred. It bent over, ready to spew a red beam on Bast, when another spear broke through its torso.

Eyes blinking out, the machine fell limp on the spears.

Bast wiped sweat off his forehead, a smile blooming on his lips when he spotted Mera. His hart watched him with relief, love, and then panic as two strong arms caught him in a chokehold.

His whips of darkness lashed at his assailant, but the siren was powerful. He blocked his attacks with icy water similar to Mera’s.

Kura!

Bast tried winnowing, but he was too weak, and then a cold blade pressed against his neck. “Poseidon sends his regards,” the akritana trapping him whispered in his ear.

Deafening claps took over the air, as if a thousand thunders were cracking at once. Blue lightning rose around the beach, splitting the sky in a wide, neon-blue web that buzzed loudly. And the source was…

Mera.

His hart stared at Bast’s attacker with a world of fury, her lips a line and her nostrils flared. Her hair waved wildly around her. She’d never looked more like Ariella Wavestorm than she did in that moment, but Bast could never tell her that, not without breaking her heart.

Her lightning plunged into their enemies’ bodies, making them thrash violently. When it crashed against his assailant’s forehead, Bast managed to elbow the suket and pull himself away, falling with his back on the sand.

“Fuchst ach,” he mumbled as the lightning lifted the siren in the air, along with every single one of Azinor’s lackeys.

Their bodies convulsed so harshly that foam formed at the edges of their mouths, their skin began turning purple, and their faces puffed.

“Kitten, don’t!” Bast shouted, stretching his arm toward her. “We have to interrogate them!”

But she didn’t listen. Right then, Mera was wrath and pain, and he couldn’t get to her, not even through their bond.

His hart’s power beamed like a small sun. Wincing, Bast closed his eyes, and when the bright burst dimmed along with the rumbling thunder, he surveyed the beach.

“Sakala mi…”

The charred remains of Azinor’s lackeys dropped onto the sand with hollow thuds, falling everywhere like broken marionettes.

Dead. Every single one of them.

Mera wobbled on her feet, the effort clearly taking its toll. She was losing consciousness, Bast felt it through their link.

Ignoring the bodies strewn between them, he rushed toward her, his muscles and bones heavy and aching. He caught her in his arms right before she collapsed.

He always would.

“Min hart!” He held her close, relief and fear making for a strange mix inside him. He tried to shake her awake, but Mera was too weak to remain conscious. Cupping her left cheek, he stamped a kiss on her forehead. “Wake up.”

She didn’t.

The blonde akritana stepped closer, panic clear in her wide, hazel eyes as she stared at Mera.

“Whatever is inside her, it’s getting stronger.”