Souls Absorbed: 18

Tristan remained in their home, refusing to be moved by –the much larger– Rowan. The blood of angels ran thinly within his veins, yet it was enough, Heaven stood behind his martial honour and no matter how much larger Rowan appeared, they both knew who could rip off the other’s arms. Tristan’s inner fire is what had drawn Ashera to him, he was her protector, the man who went bump in the night, while she was his humor, the day of his joy. Rowan understood their bond, and did not attempt to remove him, leaving the five of them to witness Ashera’s bane.

“Lorelai, I need more cloth.” Ordered Vesper.

She waited until the taller woman left, a hint of envy as Lorelai’s hips swayed out of the room. When did Lorelai get so… Curvy? Hasn’t she always been more boyish than Ashera? She thought, dismissing the thought in the same instant, she had work to do, black work. Vesper’s blue eyes found Ashera’s, wilting under the pain and fear in the mother’s eyes.

“Ashera, this is going to hurt. I don’t mean hurt like a barefoot jog across the Keresh, I mean hurt like a scorching sword in the guts. Listen to me, you cannot heal until after he is fully born. No magic at all. Can you handle that?”

“Handle a knife in the guts, Is that all? Takioomi hurt more than that!” Ashera said, knowing there was no alternative. “I can endure a little pain, even if he breaks both my hips I’ll still smile when I finally hold my baby boy.”

Vesper winced, already knowing Ashera’s pelvis had split under the strain of an eleven month infant. Pregnancy was draining under the best conditions, but with two extra months to endure and the leeching blight, she would be lucky if only her hips broke. Vesper opened her mouth to ask how much Ashera could heal, only to shut her mouth. The blackwood of Ellin Forest made regulating magic almost impossible, the blight fed off or amplified mana on its own whimsy, asking for Ashera’s limits would only add stress to mother and child.

“Okay, I’m going to help the baby out, remember no magic. Give her something to bite.”

Tristan took Ashera’s hand, interlacing their fingers. While Rowan stuffed a wooden dowel into her mouth, swallowing hard as he watched Vesper work. They had been together since they were five years old, back when Vesper was taller than he was. Rowan had seen her deliver dozens of babies, and the last time she had performed this specific technique the mother had passed before she could be healed. Vesper beckoned to him, silently ordering him to hold Ashera’s legs open. Lorelai returned in time to take Ashera’s free hand, helping to hold her down as Vesper levered her pelvis apart.

CRACK

Ashera didn’t know what tool Vesper used, all she could process was deafening pain as her pelvis shattered. Mind-numbing agony that overloaded her brain, shutting down any conscious thoughts.

The wooden dowel did little to muffle her echoing agony.

Stressed to the maximum by an overdue pregnancy and a leeching blight, the ligaments that secured her pelvis finally gave up the ghost, snapping and instantly opening the birth canal. ‘Aleyander’ slid into Vesper’s arms. His horns tore at Ashera, unzipping her flesh like one might filet a fish.

Vesper caught him by reflex, her conscious mind too shocked by his appearance to comprehend anything else. Rowan doubted his eyes, not believing ‘that thing’ could come from Ashera, their champion, savior, and the ‘Lady of Luck’.

“It- He’s out! Ashera, heal!” shouted Rowan, trying to staunch her bleeding internals with a rag.

Blood soaked through the cloth making Rowan press all the harder. Ashera leaned back, collapsing into the bed as she focused entirely on healing, mana flowed within her, triaging arteries, closing schisms, and pulling bone fragments back into position. Rowan felt her pelvis knit together, felt the skin squirm as it sought the cells that had once been neighbors. The sensation clenched his jaw. Blood flowed in reverse, fleeing from the sopping rag into Ashera.

No matter how many times he saw it, arcane healing always found a way to turn Rowan’s stomach.

Ashera held Lorelai and Tristan in place, her body relaxed, yet immobile. Utterly engrossed in healing herself. Vesper seized the opportunity, knowing what was required of her humanity. She slid two fingers around the infant’s neck, steadily tightening as she pulled the baby’s head backwards, twisting slightly to break the cervical vertebrae cleanly. An unnecessary step to ensure that the thing in her hands would never draw breath. Its body was already cold, lifeless, a stillborn cambion, but death was more-often-than-not a temporary affliction for demons. Ashera never heard the neck snap, but she was the only one. Rowan winced and turned away, unable to look Tristan in the eye. Lorelai peeked around him, emotions flew across her face, first rage at infantcide, followed by horror as she beheld the corpse. Finally, understanding dawned only to be drowned in the tears of a godmother who would never be.

Tristan was another matter, standing free of Ashera he caught Rowan by the throat, lifting him bodily into the air. Rowan did not resist, in fact he did nothing at all, letting his head hang in shame, mouthing the words ‘I’m sorry’. That only made it worse, Tristan tossed Rowan like a used pad, finally setting eyes on what should have been his son.

Words could not describe what went through his soul. Neither could his face express the frothing emotions within him. Sorrow, fury, pain, despair, desperation, all were present within him, competing for dominance over his actions. Tristan’s face went blank. Hollow eyes never leaving the form of the thing in Vesper’s hands. He freed himself from Ashera’s grasp, wordlessly retrieving the limp red form from the midwife. One of ‘Aleyander’s’ black horns pierced his palm, drawing blood from a second parent. Tristan didn’t -couldn’t- care. Seraphic blood rose within him, overriding his emotions to remind him of his duty.

I understand, one last thing must be done before our divorce. He thought.

He left their home, carrying the baby by the head, walking through the ribcage door and shattering it in a cascade of white dust. Angelic strength obliterating the transient blockage.

Ashera never saw Aleyander, so great was her focus that she was blind, deaf, and dumb to the world. Bone fragments landed on her, failing to catch her attention. A true invalid fighting for her life with the powers of a saint. It wasn’t enough. Loki wasn’t enough. His powers were as plethora as his disciples, with a few hundred followers scattered across the continent he had little power to spare, and spared none for Ashera.

Her healing pittered out, slowing and fading long before her pelvis was solid, the bleeding had stopped, but Ashera knew her body was broken, without some supernatural force stabilizing her pelvis, hips, and legs she would never walk again. Opening her eyes she witnessed the moment her family turned against her.

Why they were crucifying her.

Lorelai wept beside her, hand intertwined while Vesper lingered between her calves, tending to her midwife duties out of habit. Vesper’s gaunt eyes extolled evil into Ashera’s soul. All three women wished to be anywhere except where they were now, yearning for a future that did not seal their present doom.

“Did Tristain take Aleyander? Ah, guess that’s fine, I had him all to myself for eleven months, it’s about time Tristan took his turn. Phew.” Said Ashera, wondering why everyone looked so grim.

Vesper let out a strangled laugh, the damn holding back her disgust broke on the rocks of Ashera’s humor. She didn’t have the strength to correct Ashera’s assumptions, hell, she didn’t have the strength to face what she had just done to the child-… to the abomination.

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“Yes, he took i- … Aleyander… Can’t mix a growing baby and magic. Ah… I’ll go talk to him.” Said Lorelai, correcting herself mid sentence.

She left, dragging Vesper with her and silently hoping she would bleed out while they were absent.

Ashera breathed deeply, Aleyander was fine, they had taken him away so she could heal without fear of a backlash. (Babies of mages often inherited the ability to wield mana, if she used magic then it was possible for Aleyander to emulate the sensation and cast magic without any guidance or control. Effectively a baby bomb.) Eleven long months of pregnancy had finally ended. Her whole body ached with satisfaction, the echo of a job well done and carried beyond any expectation. Wind rattled through the broken doorway, sending a chill up her skirt.

Though it chilled her to the core Ashera barely felt it.

For the first time in… Years? She felt at peace. Her family was safe from the demons, the first baby of Ellin Forest had been born, proving that their village could survive here. It would take time, but Jude would finally be able to heal the scars across her soul, there were a number of bachelors in town, Nerus or Balorian were excellent candidates for Jude. They were already acquainted, had lived and worked together as mercenaries, and were still single, despite Lorelai and Ashera’s best efforts to see them pair off. Though neither man could replace what Jude had lost, but maybe one of them could give her a new family to give her life meaning. Ashera smiled, contemplating what pranks she and Aleyander could play on his aunt to shake her out of the purgatory that stole her smile.

It was a peaceful day for Ashera.

—

Tristan adjusted his grip on the abonination’s skull, squeezing with all his superhuman strength. It didn’t budge. He ground his teeth until he could taste smoke. Fury and hatred breeding in his id. She cheated on me… Cheated on me with a damned-mother-fucking demon! His subconscious called out to him, reminding him of Lorelai, the way she looked at him in the dark, the way used her tongue when they kissed, the way her hips messed with his. That’s different. Sleeping with Lorelai was different, a temporary tryst that would end when Ashera recovered, he was a man, a grandson of a Seraph, he had urges that were greater than any base human could understand.

His conscience pressed him, not accepting his answer. Then why not get Ashera’s blessing before fucking her best friend?

Tristan shook his head and raised a hand to wipe his brow, unintentionally smacking his nose with the cambion. Fury broke his heart, damning him to the rage of pride unfulfilled. It's all her fault! I was right to not tell that bitch. This damned corpse should have been my firstborn son.

His grip tightened trying to crush the skull, it rebounded in his hand, the monster’s skull too resilient for his failing might. A curse escaped his lips, the damn forest was leeching his strength, sapping all their powers and probably their lives too. Had Ashera known what the blackwood Blight would do to them? She must have, why else bring us here? We were strong, we could have gone to Juyoma and saved the city! We, -I could have been a hero. A thousand painful thoughts filled Tristan’s mind.

Working blindly, his fingers wandered over the abomination as they sought to destroy it. The thing was already cool to the touch, but he could not afford to take a chance. Demons of any age were lethal beings, he could not be too certain it was dead. Rotating his grip he grasped the head like a bowling ball, forcing his middle finger into the things left eye socket and his ring finger into its right socket. Jelly squelched as his fingers bottomed out, touching the skull through the eyes. Grasping the abomination with his left hand he began to twist the body, holding the head in place while he corkscrewed the neck. Ligaments strained, protesting like rope that had been drawn too tightly.

Men and women watched him work –people who had come to congratulate Ashera and Tristan– their faces flushed, mouths covered, a woman, Haven, broke into tears collapsing as she wept. Two men dragged her away, roughly handling the woman who broke into their walled off hearts.

Balorian and Nerus followed their example, guiding women and teens away from the village square; they did not do this out of mercy, or they would have hidden the cambion. Instead they paraded every soul in front of the crime, making sure every woman and undecided member of the village bore witness to Ashera’s crime. Precious offerings were dropped, forgotten as everyone in Ashera’s life witnessed her sin. Tricky silver coins with both sides as heads, handfuls of blueberries, or a chamber pot full of rose petals, Heaven only knew where she had found the flowers. Small trinkets meant to please the Lady of Luck, champion of Loki. It didn’t matter, they were discarded all the same.

Sacrificing their offerings on the alter of their faith in Ashera. The first baby of their unnamed village –what should have been a testament of human adaptation– a physical manifestation of their will to survive, had been corrupted. Twisted into the red skinned form of an impish fetus. Two black horns glistened in the evening light, distracting onlookers from it’s cloven hooves and mouth full of needle-like fangs.

creeeeeeeaaak

POP

The head came free in Tristan's hands.

A grizzly gasp came from the score of onlookers, Rowan finally cracked, tears flowing down his cheeks as he held Vesper in his arms. The old warriors understood what they were bearing witness too, and began to usher the remaining women away, trying to keep them from seeing the hellish truth. Hearing about evil a day later was infinitely more gentle than watching it spawn from the womb of your savior.

“Tristan… Uhm… use this.” Said Rowan, blinking rapidly as he dropped the stump they used for chopping firewood at Tristan’s feet.

Tristan opened his mouth to speak, coughed, then nodded. Unable to find his words he spoke with his acts. Lifting the tool of his trad e he levered his superhuman strength to bring the hammer edge of his axe down on the infant’s skull.

CRACK

The axe rebounded off the skull, sending Tristan back two paces. Its head had split open, sending black goo oozing out from between its horns. Tristan’s hands ached, but he proceeded to dismantle the demon, venting his cuckolded fury on the thing that should have been the love of his future. He dismembered and broke the abomination, leaving its remnants in a pile atop the stump.

“Wish we could burn it.” Muttered Rowan.

“No, demons are tempered in the fires of hell. Heat would empower it. I’ll go bury… it… Once we do the same to her.” Said Tristan.

Rowan’s mouth fell open, Vesper recoiled. Tristan ignored them both, they did not have the blood of angels in their veins. Their reactions were natural given their mundane lineage, they lacked the will to kill for others. Yes, Rowan had fought thralls and slain them, but demons were entirely different from their brainwashed slaves. Cruelty was a dash of salt to them, a delectable seasoning to their panoply of agony.

No treatment was brutal enough when it concerned demons.

Vesper approached him, putting one blood stained hand on the hilv of his axe. “Tristan, what are you saying? This is already more than we can bear!”

He shrugged her off. Pondering Ashera’s sin. When had she consorted with a monster? They had been inseparable for years, throughout their flight from Yace he had fought alongside her and Lorelai, the three of them wielding their gods given powers against the infernal. Ashera didn’t sleep alone, she couldn’t sleep alone, the things the demons had done to her parents kept her awake at night, forcing her into the arms of someone powerful enough to keep the nightmares at bay. If Tristan wasn’t beside her, then Lorelai would comfort her.

Who had she cheated with? No, that was the wrong question, who had the whore fucked?

Tristan often took Rowan into the woods, hunting the boars with warhammers and snares. It couldn’t be him… Damnit, it wasn’t a person, it was a demon! Some of them can change their form, pretend to be human. Did an incubus follow us? It could have infiltrated us when we fled Takioomi, that idiodic mayor locked Ashera up. He could have sicked the incubus on her then. No, that was over two years ago!

Rowan traded a worried glance with Vesper, he had never seen Tristan look this ferocious. They had all seen Tristan’s face in battle, the way his eyes narrowed and twitched, that grimacing smile of contempt that he reserved for thralls. The face of heaven’s wrath was a mask that Tristan had worn often.

This face was worse.

“We should send for an inquisitor. There may still be one in Juyoma or Gerscav, they are near enough-” Began Vesper, trying to placate him.

“No inquisitor would be foolish enough to waste a month in Ellin Forest, they all know the legends!” Growled Tristan.

“Then we’ll take Ashera to them. We owe her that much!” Said Rowan.

Tristan's face ran red, his breath deepened. Owe her that much? What do I owe her Rowan? She betrayed me. Told me she was carrying my son! She even named the bastard after my grandfather. What manner of whore does that then gives birth to that hellspawned abomination! Why are they bothering to involve an inquisitor? Those Seraphs are just as vile as the demons they fight.

“What exactly do you think an inquisitor will do for Ashera? Maybe they will torture her until she confesses? Admits that she did indeed bear a demon’s child? We have all the evidence they could ever need right there.” Said Tristan, pointing his axe head at the pile of red skinned meat. “After they see that… Well, they’ll probably burn her at the stake, that’s what the Ansits have decreed is the correct method of dealing with witches. Burn them at the stake then behead them and burn the body again. Grind anything that remains into ashes and bury it ten feet down.”

Vesper’s eyes bulged. “She deserves a trial! She is Loki’s chosen hero, I can’t believe that she would do this. The demons are playing a trick on us! They could have found a way to corrupt the baby-”

Tristan’s mouth fell into a sneer. “Just listen to yourself, the tricksters favorite whore isn’t guilty of this trick. Do you really believe that Vesper?”

“That’s not- not… She’s your wife!” Stammered Vesper.

Her plea had meant to temper Tristan’s hate, instead it poured lemon juice onto his bleeding heart. Why was Vesper defending her? She was the first one to catch her lie, the very woman who delivered the abomination!

An iniquitous thought snagged Tristain’s attention.

Vesper was the midwife, the one who checked on Ashera throughout her pregnancy. If any demon had infiltrated their village then Vesper would be the ideal candidate. The women often sought her out to discuss how they could conceive, from wards to dinner, Vesper always had an answer. Always coming and going at odd hours, brewing strange remedies. Tristan knew of their efficacy –she had served as their medic when Ashera’s healing magic inevitably ran dry– but that only sold the lie. Demons would gladly heal a bruise today so they could steal your soul tomorrow. Vesper had a reason to enter every home, unfettered access to every woman and womb. No one would question the bilgewater ‘tonics’ she was giving their wives.

That made two traitors.

Two whores that required his judgment.