Rune and Ruin

Seeds of the Gods - 17 - Flame Weeding

395 B.C.E. - The City of Veii, Early Summer, Month of Junius

In Her Memory

Thania felt she was burning in the fires of the damned in Ersetu. Her back was worst of all, but her head, belly, and legs were aflame, too. She tried to stretch her charred limbs, only to feel renewed fire race down her spine.

Her gasp brought a dark shadow to hover near her and a large, calloused palm to smooth over her brow.

"Easy, Flammatia," the Warlord's voice held a hint of ominous hate, even as his touch was gentle.

Thania struggled against Hyno's sand of sleep, but the god's grip on her wasn't so easily shed. Another soft moan slipped past her lips. A wordless plea as her mind raced to understand why she was so hot.

Another voice mumbled, "Too hot, damn the gods," saying out loud what Thania couldn't manage.

"She was shivering, Quint," the Warlord responded. "She shouldn't be cold."

"She's sweating now, Falx. Gods, I can't breathe here."

Thania felt the Warlord leave her side, but the heavy weight on her right didn't move. Something moved, a scraping sound, and then the most welcome breeze drifted over her face.

When Thania attempted to open her eyes this time, her heavy eyelids obeyed. Frowning, she tried to get her bearings as a small cup was held to her lips.

"Drink, love," the Warlord crooned in an inhuman, wicked voice. A forked tongue flickered from between dark grey lips as he spoke. Blood-red eyes came into focus next, set deep under the heavy ridge of his brow, covered liberally with armored scales and tiny black spikes.

"Why?" she breathed, trying to lift her left hand to touch his face, as her right seemed to be tucked tightly under something. Another flash of pain in her back made her give up the effort.

"My sweet little female," the Warlord replied. "Rest. You're safe now. I'm here, and Quint won't leave your side."

Safe? Who is Quint?

The memory crept up on her, brushing her mind like a spider crawling over her skin. The shuddering reflex from the feeling only caused her more agony. The bite of pain... a memory of the lashing that made her collapse.

"Thania," the Warlord sounded unnatural. "Don't move."

He has spilled blood, the gods intoned solemnly. Vengeance wrought true.

The voice made Thania open her eyes wider as she swallowed the cool, viscous liquid down her parched throat.

Thania let her gaze drift down the Warlord's chin, to his neck, then his chest, bare but for a coat of sticky, purple blood. Stunned, she gaped as the Warlord set down the cup and stroked her hair again, not seeming to notice or mind his hands, covered in more blood than not.

"I have left the traitors as yours, Quint. A gift for when you feel better," the Warlord insisted.

Thania's mind finally caught up to the present. Cassius had whipped her over a stolen necklace. No... over a lie about a stolen necklace. Tears pricked her lashes. Would the Warlord believe it and punish her? No... no, he is tending her... but the rage indelibly stamped on his demon features spoke volumes about his rage.

"I didn't..." Thania managed to say. She stopped, self-preservation making her fall quiet as she realized the overly warm, hard mattress on her right side was Falx's new General, and she had interrupted their conversation.