Page 69 of House of the Beast

But where was my father, and where were his men?

Lord Carnus narrowed his eyes, and then hissed, “Agatha!”

Lynel turned to him, horrified, then back to the Pyres. After a moment, he let out a gasp.

“We must hurry,” said Carnus Metia. “We can still save her.”

Agatha Metia must have been captured by my father, then.

If the Heavensguard were not convinced of his crimes before, they certainly were now.

Many of them exclaimed in outrage that a vessel of their House had been strung up as an offering.

They hastened their steps, climbing over potholes in the ground and patches of dark, vine-like growths.

Unease pricked at me. If my father had laid this trap for the Wanderer of Still Waters, then why wasn’t he here, watching over it?

Still, I followed dutifully, until a break in the water froze our steps at once.

Waves splashed over the broken ground and lapped at our feet.

A couple of the figures strung up on the Pyres began to whimper and writhe, the sounds of their distress carrying over the water.

A great, long, graceful shape rose out of the shallows nearby, undulating like a snake.

It slithered across the marshy ground toward one of those wooden beams before rearing up to appraise the offering upon it.

The fallen star had appeared at last.

It was not yet an elder god. Not by the court’s definition.

The Wanderer was in a form more easily contained—gruesome and otherworldly, but not yet searing out my pupils from a single glance.

It looked like a bird, or a deep-sea shark, or some combination of both.

Two large fins on either side of its streamlined torso feathered out into delicate filaments that would have resembled wings if not for the wet, scaly texture.

Above those were a pair of appendages that resembled human arms. It had a long tail scored with keratin-like growths that trailed into the water.

The top half of its body narrowed into a slender neck, crowned by a mass of longer filaments that looked almost like hair, except they were clearly tensile and were currently wrapped around a poor captive’s head, feeding.

A low hum filled the air, melodic and beautiful, like a siren’s call.

Somehow, I knew it was the Wanderer—singing, pleased.

The eyes of the Heavensguard glazed. Their feet began to stumble toward the Pyres.

I should stop them , I thought, but I couldn’t remember why.

My attention was caught on the star before me.

The filaments detached from around the man’s head, withdrawing to hover in the air the way a snake watches its prey.

The flesh around the skull had been largely eaten away, leaving behind nothing but thin strips of pale muscle.

The Wanderer slithered from its current meal and to the next victim, who began wailing for help. With a shock, I realized the man wore Dreadguard armor. But he wasn’t one of Kaim’s soldiers.

My father had strung up his own men for the Wanderer to find.

Horror filled me, pulling me from the strange trance I had fallen into. “That’s a Dreadguard,” I gasped. “My father’s men. He sacrificed his own men.”

Lord Carnus blinked heavily, as if to clear his eyes of something, and then cursed. “That depraved dog. Come—we must strike now!”

The sound of his voice seemed to pull his men out of their stupor. They readied their weapons again but did not yet move. They were waiting for their lord’s command.

“Lynel,” ordered Carnus Metia.

Lynel Metia stepped forward. He raised his hands in front of him and began to circle them around each other, and between them, silver light bloomed.

It grew brighter and brighter as he worked it around like a craftsman molding clay, until it looked ready to burst—and then he flung it like a bolt of lightning toward the Wanderer.

The light struck its body with a shattering sound, cutting off the Wanderer’s sweet song.

A screech of outrage filled the air instead, the noise ripping into my ears painfully.

Lynel’s light had left a deep burn against its wet hide.

The Wanderer wailed and convulsed like a salted slug and turned those filaments in our direction.

All at once, it came slicing through the shallow water toward us.

“Now!” commanded Carnus Metia. “Forward, now!”

The Heavensguard formed into disciplined pairs, spears held forth, and dashed to intercept the fallen star.

Carnus Metia took his turn hurling forth a bolt of light, even as Lynel began collecting more between his hands again.

There was no place for me with them and their magic, so I joined the guard in their advance.

The first of them were now reaching the Wanderer and bravely thrusting their spears forward, scoring scratches into its hide.

They were herding it away from Lord Carnus and Lynel, keeping them free to cast their magecraft.

The Wanderer bellowed and shied away, and then, like a whip, lashed its long body along the ground in front of it.

Two men were knocked away, two more crushed under its body.

With its arms, it grabbed one of the charging Metia guards and wrapped its filaments around his head.

The guard thrashed, screaming. Another bolt of starlight struck the Wanderer’s body and it wailed, dropping its victim.

But as soon as the guard hit the ground he was staggering back onto his feet, movements stilted, flesh half-peeling off his face.

Some of the tendrils from the Wanderer’s own head wriggled in the cavities.

He lunged for one of his own comrades, taking the man down with a scream.

The Wanderer thrashed again, sending water flying. We were ankle-deep in marsh, now quickly clouding with blood.

“Hold it still!” called Lord Carnus.

Easier said than done. I had finally come close enough to strike it with my sword—but another lash of its tail had me stumbling back, trying not to get crushed.

Its size was enormous, the breadth of it thicker than the height of a grown man.

And I could feel the aura of its power—the power that had made Sorrowsend’s animals mad and driven its people to restless revelry, even from thousands of miles away.

Up close, it felt as though it could weigh me down and crush me into the soggy earth.

A great bolt of light arced down from the starry sky and struck the Wanderer right through the middle.

It screeched in agony. Stardust and ichor sprayed into the air from a great wound on its back—but far from stopping it, the wound only seemed to enrage it further.

It began dashing at each of the Metia guards, knocking them down with its weight or picking them up in its arms and flinging them, screaming, into the air.

“I must strike it again in the same place!” Lord Carnus shouted. “Hold it still!”

I planted my feet as it sliced through the marsh toward me next.

I saw the moment its body snapped back, flinging the weight of its tail forward in a wide arc over the ground.

If I tried to dive to the side to avoid it, I would be crushed—so instead I dove in.

I barely dodged it in time, feeling the force of its movement whipping behind me even as I landed facedown in the shallow, filthy water.

But it had left its torso unguarded while it attacked with its tail.

Seeing my chance, I scrambled back upright and drove my sword into its gut.

It screamed. I pushed my sword in deeper—which was my mistake. Instead of whipping its tail back around, it kept it going, wrapping around itself. By the time I realized I had no escape, I was already being crushed.

I struggled. I kicked my leg out, planted my hands along its side, trying to create space for myself. It was no good. The Wanderer began to squeeze. I locked my metal elbow into place to give myself at least room to breathe, but soon my joints began to groan under pressure.

Even if I called for Aster, my sword was stuck inside the Wanderer, and there was no room for me to move.

I was fucked.

I tried to kick upward, to free myself that way.

I managed to squeeze myself up a few inches, but soon became trapped again.

As I twisted wildly, throwing my weight back and forth, something made the Wanderer screech and shudder, its grip loosening for an instant.

I craned my head backward and saw that I had dug my shoulder into the edge of the wound inflicted by Carnus Metia’s bolt of light.

With renewed vigor, I began throwing my shoulder against it, digging it in.

Ichor sluiced down the Wanderer’s wet scaly hide.

It screamed and flinched away from my onslaught, and suddenly there was more room to breathe, to maneuver.

I kicked my feet out, crawling my way up the tunnel of its coiled body, and managed to brace my back against it while pushing out with my legs.

Like this, I could drag my sword out of its body.

Ichor spilled onto my feet as I pulled the black steel free of eldritch flesh.

I could still move—not much, but hopefully enough to strike.

There was no need. The next bolt of light struck the Wanderer right in its bleeding wound.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but even then, my vision blazed white.

The howl it let out was deafening. This time, the light did not dissipate, but drove right through its body and pinned it into the ground.

The hold around me slackened. I immediately clawed my way up over the crest of its tail and dropped back onto my feet, unsteady.

Footsteps approached. I looked up to see Lynel Metia hurrying toward me, worry on his face.

Lord Carnus came more slowly, his brow furrowed in concentration as he maintained the great bolt of light pinning the Wanderer in place with his hands.

The Heavensguard, the ones who were still alive, gathered uncertainly around us.

But when they saw that the Wanderer could now only writhe like a skewered bug, they began to cheer, victory lending energy to their voices.

“Thank you,” said Carnus Metia to me, “for holding it still.”

I snorted weakly. I had certainly not planned on doing it that way. Lynel Metia signed something quickly with his hands, and then gestured at me. He seemed to be asking if I was all right.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

He smiled at me. I smiled back.

The smile froze in place as a familiar voice said, “Lord Carnus. I see you’ve been kind enough to do the hard work for me.”

I turned. My father strolled through the shallow water toward us, a black figure under the starlight, as severe and put together as always.

One would never guess that he had just sentenced all of his men to their deaths.

Had they struggled? Had they tried to fight him, only to find themselves helpless against a Hand of the Dread Beast?

His expression remained calm, smug, almost amused.

Rage stirred within me. I wanted nothing more than to punch that look off his face, but when I made to go after him, Lord Carnus lifted his arm to hold me back.

“Zander Avera,” he called, brow still creased with the strain of holding the Wanderer still.

“You are under arrest for high treason against the court, for seeking forbidden knowledge beyond your station, and for orchestrating a conspiracy that has led to the deaths of many. We are here to bring you to justice. Will you come quietly?”

My father’s eyes roamed our small party and landed on me. His smile widened. “So, you came after all. I thought you might.”

The Grand Heavenseer took a step forward. He spread his hands. In each of his palms, starlight began to glow. “Do not test me, Zander. You either come with us now, or I will take great joy in reducing you to—”

A cry of pain interrupted his words. It was accompanied by the distinct sharp, wet sound of flesh parting beneath a blade.

Blood splashed into the water around us.

The light in his hands sputtered and died.

I made to dash forward, certain that my father had done something—only to find that I couldn’t move. My feet were planted to the ground.

And it was my own metal hand that held the sword currently plunged into Carnus Metia’s back.

My eyes grew wide with horror. My fingers were wrapped firmly around the hilt of my blade. But when had I raised it? “What...”

Gentle fingers cradled my jaw. With sweet reverence, they guided me to meet the eyes of my monster, all three of which were open. His expression was very tender.

“Forgive me for this, Alma,” he said. “I’ll make it up to you later, I promise.”

Lord Carnus tried to tug himself off my blade but failed, crying out in pain. He twisted around, his eyes flaring. He growled through the blood bubbling up his throat, “You. It was you. I should have known. The curse upon Kugara, it was you—”

Aster leaned forward as if to kiss me again. But instead of making contact, his body just kept going, his form merging into mine, until he had bled into me completely.

In one smooth motion, my metal hand wrenched the sword from where it had been lodged between Lord Carnus’s ribs and lopped off his head.