Chapter 17: Escape

The Mistress of the serving girls fancies herself a god in her own right, and she will send you to the chopping block as quickly as Athanaric will kill a disobedient demigod. After all, a girl who served a god and his demigods could not show any amount of bad behavior.

-Cressa

“Leenda!” the Mistress said. “Get back here.”

Leenda ignored the command and shoved people aside as she ran. They protested, but she didn’t care. She needed to get out. She had to get away from the Seraglio or she might not live to see the morning.

The closest exit was through the banquet area. In the doorway from the kitchen, she pushed past a serving girl with a bowl of mashed potatoes. The bowl struck the ground with a crack and a squish, but Leenda almost didn’t hear because of the sound of heaving. She ran a few steps out of the doorway, and faltered to a halt, surprised by the scene.

Throughout the area, demigods, serving girls, and musicians convulsed and vomited. The smell made her cringe. Only Athanaric didn’t seem affected by this sudden illness. He stood over Wrend and Teirn, his face intense as he spoke to them.

From behind Leenda, a hand closed around her arm.

“Stay right there,” said a man’s voice.

Panic surged and she tried to pull away without success. She turned to find a priest grinning at her. He was missing a few teeth. Behind him, another four priests came toward her, followed by the Mistress and Brentna.

“You’re not going anywhere,” the priest said.

“Excuse me,” she said. She bound Thew Ichor to her arms and shoulders, and added just a touch of Flux to her free fist as she brought it around and connected with the priest’s jaw. He reeled away, releasing her arm. “I’ve got to be leaving.”

She darted toward the opposite end of the courtyard.

“Leenda, get back here!” the Mistress said.

But Leenda ignored her and watched Wrend as she passed along the path between the tables and the dance floor. He lay slumped over the table, his hands splayed out before him, his cheek resting on his plate. Puke covered the area around him.

He looked helpless, just like he had seventeen years before, as Athanaric had carried him into a massive building in the Seraglio, through wide-open double doors into a cavernous chamber. She’d watched from a distance, weary from the struggle to rescue him, staying out of range of the hailstorm of arrows from paladins. As the doors swung closed, Athanaric laid Cuchorack down on a massive altar and chained him down. As the doors shut with a boom, she roared in rage over the loss of her mate.

Now, seventeen years later, she knew who her mate was and wanted to shout for joy. If only he knew, as well.

She jumped over a demigoddess who lay sprawled on the ground, and nearly turned back to Wrend, to ensure his safety and health. But Athanaric was too close, speaking intently to him. She couldn't go to his side, but she could help him.

She could bind Ichor to him.

As she ran past the tables, still pursued by the Mistress and priests, she bound Thew Ichor to Wrend's body, and applied it in a rush. She let it flow out of her and into him, strengthening him. Certainly it wouldn't be enough to completely heal him, but it would help. Maybe it would be the difference that would save his life.

She continued to apply it as she passed the platforms where the Caretakers had been doing tricks, until she reached the arched entryway. Once through it, she passed beyond the reach of her binding to Wrend, and it broke. She ran up the stone path toward the forest, speeding her flight with the copious application of Thew and Flux Ichor, and escaped into the dark forest, already formulating a plan.

Step one: travel to her son and enlist his help.

Hopefully Athanaric would save Wrend from whatever was going on.