Destroyer of Worlds

4

Her face streaked with tears, her clothes filthy with the sticky ochre dust, Laura staggered across the blasted lands. She had no idea where she was going, just that she had to get away, away from the consequences of her terrible betrayals and the lies and the guilt. If she had stayed with the others she knew she would only have betrayed them again, and again, until they were all dead like Hunter, and the dreams of the Blue Fire and the hopes of all those who believed in Existence were ashes. She would do that. She would destroy anything, friends, strangers, entire worlds. She wouldn't stop until there was nothing left.

She was pleased the blasted lands were so free of moisture. She'd cried herself out, and her abilities needed her to be hydrated to work properly. If she kept walking, she wondered if she might finally dry up and die like any plant left too long in that place.

'I'm not human,' she muttered to herself. 'The girl I was is gone. What's here is nothing. It doesn't matter any more if I die. Who would care, right?'

Her rambling was disturbed by a long, low call rolling out across the hardpan. Through her daze, she thought it sounded familiar. Glancing back, at first she saw only the dust and the haze, but eventually a dark shape emerged from the glare, bulky, moving fast towards her. She watched it for a moment as her skittering thoughts coalesced and then recognition surfaced from the murk.

'Shit. Shit. Shit!'

Drawing energy from depths she didn't know she had, she broke into a mad scramble. Cernunnos, the god of the green, the power in nature itself, was her patron and her guide. He owned her. And now he was coming to destroy her for her grand betrayal.

Choking on the dust, Laura dived behind a tower of rock, hoping it would hide her from view long enough to decide on an alternative course. She'd taken only four steps when the ground shifted under her feet and a hand snapped around her ankle.

'Bastard! Get off!' She kicked out, only to be thrown roughly onto her back by a brutish, hairless figure rising quickly from where it had been lying hidden in the dust. It was the colour of the rocks, with skin like a lizard's and double-lidded eyes that would protect it from the dust-storms that blew across the blasted lands.

Before Laura could fight back, it had clamped one large, rubbery hand over her mouth and pulled her up under its arm as if she were a doll. Then, with a lurching gait, it loped rapidly across the hardpan. Laura's struggles were quickly contained with a few hard punches, and by the time her senses had stopped reeling, they were below ground level on a dry river bed.

Rounding a bend, Laura saw a force of around two hundred — Lament-Brood, Redcaps and many more like the brutish creature that held her tight. The ranks parted to let her captor run deep into their midst and then closed behind them. Laura was thrown roughly onto the pebbly bed. Dazed, she staggered to her feet, cursing loudly, not caring if they turned on her and killed her there and then.

'Well, a Sister of Dragons.' The voice was rich and mocking; and familiar.

'Holy shit,' Laura snarled bitterly.

As the warriors parted again, Niamh strode out to stand before Laura, a sadistic smile twisting her lips. Despite the heat, she wore black armour and the black, horned headdress that emphasised the beauty of her features. 'Here I truly am the queen of the Waste Lands.'

'Bitch of the Waste Lands,' Laura snapped.

'So bitter. And you have helped us so much. Now, I think, you can help us some more.' She nodded to the brutish creatures and said, 'Hurt her, a little. When she is more compliant, we shall return home and see what else she knows.'