In the Shadow of the Goddess (Book 1 of The Fallen Gods Trilogy)

CHAPTER THREE

A low rumble passed through the corridor while the corridor itself grew brighter. Jill leapt up to her feet. Brexten waved a hand to keep her back. No problem. I can do that.

"The Master is the key to getting out of here," he whispered. "Stay out of the way."

Numbly, she did as instructed. The light intensified, the rumblings grew louder. The knife in Brexten's hand suddenly looked very inadequate. What did he expect to do? Peel fruit?

Then he appeared: The Master of the Maze.

For all his thunderous rumbling, his appearance was deceptive mild. The Master had a stooped back and frail looking shoulders. A long white beard flowed to his feet and he was nearly bald except for a tiny fringe of greasy hair around his ears. He wore a stained tunic which may have been white at one time and it dragged across the marble floor behind him. He looked so comically out of place, Jill nearly laughed. He put her in mind of a child's version of what a wizard in a fairytale might look like. Then she saw the Master's eyes: silver with no pupils. His lips curved into a sneer over blackened teeth.

"What have you there, princeling?" the Master asked, a bony finger outstretched to Jill. From where she stood behind Brexten, she cringed.

If Brexten appeared startled by the Master's reference to her, his voice gave nothing away. "That is none of your concern, just as I am not."

"You're not to have toys of your own here. Only what I give you. If she is in the Maze, she becomes mine. Come here, pretty. Let me see the tasty fruit I've found," the Master crooned.

"Don't move," Brexten murmured to her without taking his eyes off the Master.

Hadn't planned on it, came her thought as she pressed herself hard against the Maze wall. In fact, she couldn't move. Terror and panic held her firmly in place. Part of her was disappointed by her constant state of fear. The other, more realistic part told her not to be such a fool. This was scary. How else was she supposed to react?

The Master fixed his unblinking silver orbs on her. His face went slack and his mouth sagged open. Saliva pooled, then dripped, from the corners of his lips. There was something in his expression—a lust bordering on hunger—that paralyzed her. It wasn't so much that he wanted her. Rather, it seemed he wanted to devour her whole. Or, that he actually wanted to eat her.

More gliding than walking, he eased by Brexten, and Brexten stepped aside to let him pass. Jill's eyes flicked back and forth between the man and creature advancing. What was Brexten doing? Was he going to sacrifice her so he'd be safe? The thought made her want to scream, and possibly hit him, but tiny whimpers seemed the best she could manage. She couldn't even creep away from the Master. Those silver orbs kept her pressed against the cold Maze wall.

Another eye-flick to Brexten. That time, she caught his gaze and he shook his head. Jill nearly groaned aloud. What the hell was a head shake supposed to mean?

Then, the Master reached her and she had no more time to puzzle over anything.

"Do you have a name, pretty?" asked the Master.

Jill merely blinked at him.

"So helpless. So fragile." The Master licked his lips and reached out to touch her hair. He leaned forward. She could barely keep from cringing as he fingered her ponytail with his cracked, yellowed nails. He smelled of putrid, rotting flesh. The stench alone nauseated her—so much worse than anything coming from Brexten. His lips were thin and black like dried worms on the roadside after a heavy rain. "It has been so long since I have seen a female with beauty such as yours. May I taste?"