Redeemed by Rubies (A Dance with Destiny Book 6) (37 page)

“Turn around, Angel,” Ardune grumbled. “This feast is not for
your
eyes. You are unworthy the honor. Even if you do not possess a single ounce of decorum, please try to act a
tiny
bit respectable.”

“Mind your tongue, Drowl,” Ahriman said through a growl.

When the gawking soul-eater stomped purposefully toward them, shoving Ardune to the side, Jenevier’s anger was kindled. She didn’t make a single sound as she drew back and punched the dark Angel right in the jaw.

“
Never
touch my Drowl,” she hissed.

In the next second, she sucked air in through her teeth and grimaced.

“Holy stars in the merciful heavens!” She grabbed her right hand and held it against her chest. “Owww… That hurt like hell. I think I broke my finger.”

Ardune reached for her, but Ahriman was faster.

“Broke your finger? How in the universe is that even possible?”

“It is possible because she is human now, Angel. Move and let me see to her.”

“Back off, Drowl.” Ahriman growled at the other man. “I know she is human. Yet, she was but a woman when she walked into hell. As a mere human, this precious
Lady
of yours nearly defeated our Prince.”

Ardune gasped. “…Apollyon?”

“I
did
defeat him,” Jenevier said, frowning.

“Then… how is it you are injured now, my Lady?”

“Well…” She furrowed her brow. “I think that is the first time I have ever
punched
someone. I always used my claws.”

“Hmpft… some
Death Angel
,” Ahriman mumbled. “If your finger is broken, it’s because of this damn ring. Where in the universe did you get such a monstrosity?”

He tried tugging on it, but she cried out.

“Stop it! That hurts!”

Ahriman spotted the sparkling invisible thread attached to it. “Angel hair,” he whispered, looking up at her. “This is Michael’s doing, isn’t it?”

“It is the tangible symbol of a treasured blessing,” she said, moving away from them both. “Just quit messing with it. I’ll be fine.”

“It certainly doesn’t seem that way to me,” Ahriman said. “And after I hurried here with what I thought was promising news…”

“What news?” Jenevier prodded when he didn’t continue.

“I was devising a way for you to redeem yourself… via battle.”

“Meaning?” she pressed.

“Meaning… you should have the right to win back your own fate.” Ahriman glanced toward the Drowl and then back to Jenevier. “It was decided that whomever is the ultimate victor in the arena, you will have the right to challenge them… redeem yourself, if you so choose.”

Jenevier snorted. “Like I needed your permission for such a thing as that. Of course I would fight whoever tried to take ownership of me. If you aren’t strong enough to
claim
your prize, then you are no victor.”

“These were my exact thoughts as well,” Ahriman mumbled. “But after this…”

The silver-eyed soul-eater sat some food down on the table. Ardune hurriedly fixed her clothing, then began properly setting her plate.

“Did you enjoy the noodles?” Ahriman quietly asked.

“Very much, yes. They are even better than the ones Mika fixes. Where in the universe did you get them?”

“On Earth.” He looked away. “I heard Lala tell your sell-sword they were the best she’d ever had.”

Jenevier didn’t say anything as Ahriman turned and left.

*****

“Aren’t you going to finish?”

Jenevier looked to Ardune, and then down to her unfinished lunch. “He brings too much. Two grown men couldn’t finish it.” She smiled. “You shamed him, didn’t you, Ardune?”

“I spoke true to the Angel. If he felt shame, it was of his own doing.” He paused a moment. “When you named me
your Drowl
… it made my chest hurt.”

“Apologies for that, Brother. The way I said it, the way I acted as if you
belonged
to me… that was horrible. Forgive me.”

“Do not ask for forgiveness, my Lady. Your words filled me with pride.”

“Yeah, well… I’m not sure how I feel about that. Many there are that have served me, sworn allegiance to me, stood by my side in times of need. But never without their consent. My heart… my heart tells me that no creature should be
owned
.”

“You do not own me, my Lady… you honor me. Thus is my purpose. Allowing
me
to be your Drowl… it makes me truly happy. Besides, Ahriman would die for the chance to get to touch you, bathe you, feed you as I do. I like that, too—making the soul-eater jealous. Not a bad life, eh?”

Jenevier smiled to herself.

“How is your hand, my Lady?”

“Better. I don’t think I broke anything. But that was one painful lesson, to be sure.”

“Why didn’t you use your claws? If you are accustomed to fighting thusly, why did you not use them on Ahriman? Did they abandon you when your Grace ebbed?”

“I suppose they did,” she mumbled. “Ardune, if it is true that I am human only, then I should be able to leave here without fighting. The Archs told me there was a way back for humans who find themselves stuck in this place.”

“That is true.” The Drowl nodded. “You only need someone to replace you. But it has to be an equal exchange.”

“Ugh…
that
again, huh?”

“Yes, my Lady. The Law of Equivalent Exchange is a given throughout most Otherworlds. If you want to walk out of Sheol, a soul equal to your own must take your place.”

“And therein lies the problem, Drowl. I would
never
let a creature of light take my place. A decent soul doesn’t deserve to suffer in my stead.”

“And yet… a creature of the darkness could never be your equal.”

“Yes, ‘tis true.”

“It doesn’t have to be a
decent
person, though… just a human. A human soul for a human soul.” Ardune smiled. “For instance, Ahriman couldn’t do it. Not because he’s dark, but because he is Angel. A human for a human.
That’s
the loophole here.”

“…I see.” She sighed. “Well, looks like there’s no getting around it then. I’ll
have
to fight. But first, I need to pray.”

“For what? Strength?”

Jenevier smiled. “No, Ardune. Father has blessed me with more of that than I ever deserved.”

“Then… what will you ask for?”

“I will plead with Father… ask Him to turn His head—ignore what is now happening in Sheol.”

“But… why?”

“Because, my friend, whatever happens here, whether I am
claimed
or no… I want it all to be for naught. I will beg Father not to grant
any
of their requests on my behalf. I wish not to be used as coin. If someone wins me, we will go from there. But I do not want their
demands
of Father to be regarded.”

“…Remove your value,” Ardune whispered.

“Yes.” She nodded. “Perhaps when they realize they cannot push the One God around, they will lose interest in me.”

“If you are of no worth…”

“Then I will become tiresome for them, yes. And believe me, Ardune. I do not make a good prisoner. It is not within me to be a willing slave.”

“If you survive this crucible… if you yet live when all is said and done… if no one is able to claim you or Father turns a blind eye to their requests… will you stay with me, my Lady? If you win your freedom, yet refuse to let another human take your place here… will you let me stay by your side, be your Drowl?”

Jenevier smiled. “I would
demand
it be so.”

When she giggled, Ardune blushed… even though Jenevier couldn’t tell it.

“Yes.” He nodded and smiled. “I would
demand
it be so as well, my Lady.”

She stood then and sighed. “When my prayers are through, I wish you to take me back to the arena, Ardune. If my end comes, let it come today. I will not cower in a cave for years on end. I will hasten this
tournament
… by any means necessary.”

Chapter 23

Gilbad

(GILL-bad)

Jenevier followed the Drowl down the tunnels below the arena. She took her time, studying the creatures making ready for their next battle. Their weapons were as varied as were their wrappers.

“Wow,” she whispered. “Father loves wondrous variety, does He not?”

“Indeed He does,” Ardune said. “But don’t let their size fool you, my Lady. Just because they are large, doesn’t mean they are strong.”

She smiled. “Gratitude… but I learned a long time ago not to judge with my eyes alone.”

The Drowl turned back to face her. “Ahriman is one such creature—elegant and beautiful… physically perfect in every way.”

“Yes, he is. But on the inside he’s…” She paused.

“A rotting menagerie of dead men’s bones.”

Jenevier nodded. “For the most part… yes.”

“Hey! There’s the girl.”

Jenevier turned toward the Troll as he spoke.

“Guntra, come here.”

Another Troll joined the first.

“It’s the sunshine girl.”

Guntra licked his parched lips. “Yeah, that’s her alright. I wonder, Raegar…”

“Huh? Wonder about what?”

“I wonder if she
tastes
like sunshine.”

Jenevier smiled. “If sunshine tastes like fire, then yes. Yes, I do.”

“Huh?” Raegar looked confused. “You taste like fire?”

“I
am
fire.” She bowed in her Dragon manner and smiled again.

Guntra scrunched up his face. “I shouldn’t like to eat fire, Brother. What else could we do with her?”

“You could talk to me,” Jenevier said, sitting down on the bench between the two large creatures. “I quite like to talk.”

“What’s wrong with your face?” Raegar asked.

Jenevier touched her sapphire scar. “A Guardian struck me there once… brought me back to my senses.”

“Yeah?” He furrowed his brow. “Why’s it blue?”

“A man I once loved… he healed it for me.”

“Like that?” Guntra asked. “He patched you up by turning you blue?”

“Yep.” Jenevier displayed the many on her arms, then pointed to her throat as well. “Everywhere you see sapphires upon me, that’s where Vindicus healed me.”

“There’s too many to count,” Raegar grumbled.

Jenevier chuckled. “Yeah… I used to get hurt a lot.”

“Who hurt you?” Guntra asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Lots of people. Through the years, I have crossed blades with too many to number… not without going mad in the process.”

The Trolls burst out laughing.

“You? Wielding a blade? You’re too tiny to fight.”

One of them lifted her arm and felt of her biceps, the other then followed suit.

“You’re just a wee thing, aren’t ya?” Raegar said softly.

“Well… I might be small, but I don’t wear this sword upon my back for decoration alone.” She glanced up at one and then the other. “If a creature is gonna don a weapon, they best know how to use it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Trolls nodded in unison.

“And as far as being tiny goes… that often works to my advantage. Big guys don’t take me too seriously—let their guards down.
That’s
when I go in for the easy kill.” She smiled sweetly. “I prefer the easy kill.”

The two Trolls just stared at her. They didn’t speak, but they were no longer laughing.

“Take Ardune for instance,” she said, motioning toward the waiting Drowl. “He isn’t much bigger than me, and he is a warrior of renown.”

“That’s because he is Drowl,” Guntra grumbled. “They’re
all
like that.”

“Yeah,” Raegar said. “Quick little mushrooms, they are.”

Jenevier chuckled. “Well, ya see there? You should never judge a creature by their size alone. It could prove deadly.
I
could prove deadly.”

The Trolls glanced at each other, but didn’t say anything.

“So… why are you boys here, anyway? Why did you want to win me? Do you have something special you wish from Father?”

“Naw,” Raegar said. “We were just bored, that’s all.”

“Bored, huh?”

“Yeah. There’s not much to do in Sheol.”

“Well, what were your plans if you won?”

“I dunno,” Raegar said. “Your hair looks like the sun. We don’t get to see the sun anymore.”

“Yeah,” Guntra added. “We wanted to look at you for a while, then see what you tasted like. But… if we can’t eat you, we’ll just have to play with you.”

Jenevier chuckled. “I don’t play nice, Brothers. You might want to rethink that just a bit.” When neither spoke, she went on. “You know there can be only one winner, right? As big and strong as the two of you are… what will you do if you’re the last ones standing? Will you draw your weapons on one another just for the chance to look at me for a while?”

Both Trolls quickly glanced at each other, then down to their hands.

“Have you been friends since you were little?” she asked.

“We’re brothers,” Guntra mumbled.

“Brothers? Why in the universe would you risk harming your brother just to get a chance to
look
at me?” She jumped up. “Look at me, then. Go on. Look all you want. I don’t mind. Here… touch my sunny curls. Go on. Touch them.”

When the Trolls slowly obeyed, they took special care not to be too rough. Still, their clumsy fondling almost gave her a headache.

“There now,” she said when they had finished. “Was that worth trading your brother’s life for?”

“No.” Raegar grumbled. “It’s not like sunshine. It’s not even warm.”

“That’s because it’s hair… just hair. And I’m just a girl—nothing special at all.”

The Troll brothers shuffled their feet a bit before Guntra finally stood.

“Come on, Raegar. I’m hungry.”

“Yeah,” the other said through a snort. “Let’s go see what we can find.”

“You want something?” Guntra said, turning back to her.

Jenevier held up her hands. “No thanks.” She smiled. “I ate with Ardune before we came over. Appreciate the offer, though.”

She watched the two giants lumber away; mumbling to one another as they slowly disappeared into the darkness.

“You are cunning, my Lady,” Ardune said, sending her a sardonic smile. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Not cunning… Honest.”

“Call it what you will.” He bumped her with his shoulder. “Let’s go see what other trouble you can talk yourself out of.”

*****

The two tiny warriors spoke with many of the waiting combatants: Gargoyles, Imps, Goblins, Banshee, even one creature who claimed to be a Yami—a spirit god. Some of them paid her no mind, some only grunted out a few words, and some just stared at her. Just stared… completely mute and motionless.

Jenevier sighed as she plopped down on a bench against the wall of one of the side hallways.

“Looks like I’m gonna have my hands full,” she mumbled.

“I hope you weren’t expecting it would be an easy job—busting up this whole tournament thing.” Ardune leaned back against the wall in front of her. “This has been going on for years, my Lady. Many have simply grown accustomed to it. Haven’t you noticed?”

She glanced up at him.

“My Lady… many of the ones you have spoken to, they didn’t even have a clue what to do with you if they
did
win.” He smiled softly. “Face it, little one. Some creatures just want to fight.”

Two Goblins came lumbering down the darkened hallway, mumbling to one another. When they passed between Jenevier and Ardune, one of the oversized, grotesque creatures knocked the Drowl to the ground.

“Out of the way, dung dweller,” the Goblin growled.

Jenevier was on her feet and in their face before Ardune had even recovered his bearings.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped. “Watch where you’re going, you filthy Ogre!”

The Goblins growled openly.

“We aren’t Ogres, stupid human girl,” one said.

“Mind your rotten tongue,” the other hissed. “Or I’ll tear it out and swallow it whole, right in front of you.”

“Don’t waste your time,” the first one said through a twisted smile. “I’m sure her tongue will be far too foul for your liking. Look how quickly she jumped to the Drowl’s defense.”

“Yeah.” The second Goblin snorted. “She’s probably been licking all over him, kissing his filthy, disgusting mouth.”

Jenevier didn’t respond for a couple of heartbeats, couldn’t even process what she’d just heard.

“Are you talking about Ardune? You think
he
is filthy?” She snorted out a laugh. “You don’t get much more disgusting than a rancid Goblin. Even those smelly Tree-men are preferable company to the likes of
you
.”

The first Goblin took a step toward her. “Are you actually trying to compare us to a no-good, dung-dwelling Drowl?”

“Snatch her bald, Glendor,” the second hissed.

“No.” Jenevier shook her head. “I absolutely was
not
comparing you to Ardune, because there is no comparison.”

“My Lady.” Ardune grabbed her arm. “Come with me. They’re not worth your trouble.”

Jenevier jerked free. “There’s no comparison because there is no way—not on any layer of this universe—that worthless vermin like you could ever hold a candle to a Drowl, much less Ardune. He alone is worth more than an entire Otherworld
full
of Goblins.”

“He is a Drowl, stupid human,” Glendor spat. “Just
look
at him.”

Jenevier turned toward Ardune, and then back to the snarling Goblins.

“Yes,” she said softly. “I look at him all the time. I think he is beautiful… inside
and
out.”

When the two Goblins started snorting out amused laughs, Jenevier crossed her arms and waited until they were quite finished.

“Tell me, Goblin boys.” She smiled. “What is it you
believe
you know, concerning Drowl?”

“They are born in filth,” Glendor said. “They grow in waste—
feed
off of it… eternally reek of it.”

“Your ignorance is astounding.” Jenevier shook her head and sighed. “It’s obvious… you know
nothing
.”

“We know all we care to,” Glendor said.

Jenevier snorted. “So… you revel in your shocking lack of knowledge. Is that it? Willfully ignorant and intentionally uninformed—
that’s
your idea of superiority?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she scrunched up her brow. “Boys, stupidity
that
deep… it has
got
to be generational, no doubt about it.”

When the second Goblin’s threatening growl started deep within his chest, Ardune watched the muscles in Jenevier’s jaw clench as she quietly ground her teeth.

“Simply disgusting…” she mumbled, shaking her head. “…the absolute
worst
kind of ugly.”

“What did you just say?” Glendor hissed.

Jenevier matched the Goblin’s glare. “You hate the Drowl without knowledge or reason. You are prejudiced, petty fools—too arrogant and puffed-up to even open your eyes. Creatures like you make me sick.” She narrowed her gaze, quietly studying them both. “I see now… you’re scared.” She smiled sardonically. “Pfft… pathetic.”

“How dare you, human?” the second Goblin said. “How dare you call us scared?”

“I dare because it’s the truth.” She crossed her arms again. “Just look at the two of you. With all your size and strength, your tiny little brains fail you. I call you scared because that’s what you are—scared of anything you don’t know or
refuse
to understand.” Jenevier snorted and shook her head. “This has nothing to do with Drowl. If it wasn’t the Drowl, it would be something else. You sicken me.”

Glendor snarled up his top lip. “What are you talking about?”

“What I’m talking about is… your repulsive, ugly heart.” She moved to stand toe-to-toe with the livid Goblin. “The truth is… if the Drowl were gone, you would simply turn your hate upon another, different from yourselves, and that engrained ignorance that puffs out your slimy chests… it would live on.
That
is why you sicken me.”

When the Goblins drew their weapons, Jenevier confidently mirrored them.

“Glendor!” An elderly Imp came hobbling down the hallway. “If you and Jester have time to be playing about down here, get on up to the arena. They’re calling your names.”

Jenevier and the two Goblins remained as they were—hard glares locked, blades at the ready.