From deep in her gut a tide of bile rose hot through her throat as the spells wove around her. It was no good, she had to look away, but her eyes wouldn’t let her. The iron creaked as if about to tumble in over her, the hooks straining for her flesh. With one last effort she managed to tear her eyes away.
‘Miskyia!’ she screamed, ‘Mother of mercy, help me!’ But as she looked at the pig’s head she could see its eyes boil; blood slavered around its teeth as the chant continued.
Iwa had no idea of what happened next. There was only the blackness and a gnawing pain. When she opened her eyes she was propped against the altar.
‘Thank the gods of this place that you are alive,’ Miskyia said. She had her own head back again and there was no sign of the pig face. Iwa was too shaken to even think about that. ‘You are all right,’ Miskyia said, as she threw her arms around Iwa. ‘I always knew you would be, my brave, beautiful girl.’
‘Shouldn’t we get out of here?’ Iwa said, struggling to her feet. Her gown was ruined, a savage rip ran across the midline and the hem was charred and blackened. Now she realised why Miskyia had made her wear it. Iwa had no idea of what magic had been woven into the thread but she was glad of it. It wasn’t as though she’d have survived the ordeal without it, or had the courage to face the stones.
Did the dress guard my mind as well as my body? Iwa wondered, as she followed Miskyia out of the room. True, she remembered what had happened, well, much of it anyway, but somehow it hadn’t left much of an impression, as if it had been no more than a childish dream.
Chapter Twenty-One
Getting back through the temple was easier this time. At least now Iwa knew the stones’ tricks. Yet, as she walked, she felt a strange force pulling her back, as if the gods of this place wanted to keep hold of her. Their magic swirled angrily about her feet as she followed Miskyia up the stairs. Even as she climbed into the sunlight, Iwa could feel the tug of the ancient craft, thick and choking about her, and it was only when she felt the breeze once more that she dared look back to find that the door had disappeared. Even the fish-headed guardians had melted away, leaving nothing more than a broken wall.
‘Is the Lord Bethrayal free now?’ Iwa asked, stretching out her arms. Never had the sun seemed so bright or the wind so soft.
‘No,’ Miskyia shook her head.
‘So all this has been for nothing?’ Iwa kicked at a loose stone: she couldn’t believe that she’d been through so much for so little.
‘Not entirely. I had to prepare your body to receive the Lord Bethrayal when he comes into this world.’
‘So he’ll be inside me?’ Iwa shuddered; she hadn’t counted on being a vessel for anything, let alone a demon like the Lord Bethrayal. ‘I don’t want him mucking about with my insides,’ she spat, and felt ancient spells glare down at her. Not that she cared, even for them. She was tired of not being told about things, of not really understanding. She’d heard the old ones talk about such things: madmen whose souls had been snatched away by the Leszy or other forest demons so that the spirit could live inside their bodies. Eventually, they shrivelled away to nothing, or else they were forced to dance until they died from exhaustion.
All at once she felt the helplessness of the situation. If only she didn’t need the sorceress and this Lord Bethrayal. She was worn out, her head buzzing as she leant against the wall. ‘I won’t be able to survive, not with something like that crawling about.’
‘You’ll be the bridge, nothing more.’ Miskyia’s words were gentle, as if singing a lullaby. ‘You’ll be the conduit that will connect him more strongly to this world and give him the strength to take up corporeal form once again.’
So long as it’s not my form he steals. Iwa’s thoughts must have played across her face because Miskyia smiled and laid her hand softly on the girl’s forehead. ‘Do not worry, child,’ she said. ‘Do as I say and no harm will come to you. We play for high stakes, but I would rather die than see any hurt fall upon you.’
Miskyia was a good actress, Iwa had to give her that. ‘And these blood gods, what will happen to them afterwards?’ she asked, hoping that Miskyia was telling the truth about protecting her.
‘Locked safely away beneath the earth where they belong. They’ll not trouble us further. Zaltys, the great snake who lies curled at the roots of the earth tree, keeps them in check and they’ll need greater cunning than even you possess to escape his clutches.’
‘But if Wislaw turns men’s hearts to them then they’ll be able to wriggle free.’
‘Now you understand,’ Miskyia nodded solemnly. ‘Once the hearts of men turn to those gods, not even Zaltys could keep them at bay, and the blood harvest will be let loose upon the world.’
‘Then we must stop him,’ Iwa said, more to herself than anybody else. Even in the sunlight she shuddered: she’d never imagined that she’d ever get caught up in anything so terrible. If only she’d known about this at the beginning, but then she doubted that she’d have been able to keep her courage before that altar, not if she’d understood what was going to happen.
Miskyia put her hand on the girl’s shoulder as if to steady her nerves as they walked through
