Page 91 of Jailer to the Death God
And we draw power from worship.
I have not been worshiped in ages. A handful of followers here and there—mostly murderous, depraved, twisted types. Not devotees to boast of.
But today I have drunk the praise and gratitude of the people of Cerato. I have absorbed it in greater quantities than I ever dreamed possible, as Vale and I passed through the royal city after our marriage.
I could feel it then—fresh power pulsing through my body, despite the chains.
I feel it now. A reserve of fullness, of might.
I return Macha’s smirk with one of my own. “You think you’ve won, that you’ve trapped me. You think you’ll be able to kill Vale, thus killing me—or that I’ll be forced to abdicate my throne because I love her.”
The words thrill through me. I can still scarcely grasp the wonder of them.
“I will protect her,” I say. “I will be at her side every moment. You cannot destroy her directly, and anyone you might send will have to get through me. She and I have a full year to find a way out of this spell you’ve added to my summoning—and believe me, we will find a way out. I will keep Valeandmaintain control of Annwn.”
“You’re ridiculously optimistic,” sneers Macha.
“I am hopeful,” I say. “It is a blessed trait of my indomitable Queen. With her at my side, I can do anything. I can find a way to reverse your spell. And I can do this.”
I lift both hands, palms out.
Green fire laced with writhing shadows blasts outward from me in a searing arc.
I get one glimpse of Macha’s shocked, terrified face before she, her staff, and her throne shatter into fragments, which melt into wisps of smoke and disappear.
She’s not annihilated, only banished back to her realm for the time being.
I stare at my hands, excitement pounding in my heart. I banished her myself, without the aid of my hounds.
Such is the power of true, grateful human worship.
The power of mortal love.
I step back and watch as the crowd of misty souls surges toward the Furnace, passing through one at a time into their eternal destiny.
Despite my bold words to Macha, I am not confident in my ability to keep Vale safe.
She is such a caring queen, always diving in amongst the people and speaking to them face-to-face, meeting the naysayers with kindness and understanding.
Her compassion is dangerous. And I would beg her to be more careful if I thought she would listen.
But she believes her people need her like this—accessible, listening, walking with them.
She’s so fragile. A single arrow could end her, or a scratch from a poisoned ring. What I wouldn’t give to be able to set a tethermark on her, somehow. But I can’t. The existing contract and the life-connection between us will not permit it.
Fortunately, the people in Cerato seem more inclined to trust the Queen, now that my work among them is beginning to show fruit. The primary danger to her life lies with her rival, Lord Venniroth, the other “dog” Macha sent after us.
My sister goddess has already escalated this conflict beyond what I thought she would dare to do. And after being banished so violently back to her realm, she will be ten times as angry with me. Perhaps I should not have antagonized her.
For a short while, she’ll be weakened by my attack. In the meantime, I must deal with the immediate human threat—Venniroth.
As Macha said, it is odd that he didn’t go after Vale herself. He sent assassins afterme. Which seems to indicate that he still wishes to marry her, and he simply wants me out of the way.
Marrying into the throne is far easier than killing the Queen and taking the throne by violence. The people are less likely to accept him as a ruler if he murders her.
But Venniroth was willing to sacrifice me, Cerato’s last chance for salvation. Either he does not truly care for the well-being of the kingdom, or his personal need to triumph has clouded his judgment and made him reckless.
I believe Lord Venniroth and I need to have a talk.
