The Scourge of Gods

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

The raw, inhuman screams were nails and glass, rattling in Eriden's head.

They came from torn throats, resounding through the caverns around Eriden; some distant, others beneath and above him. Gurgling moans crept along the walls, joining shrieks erupting from the nameless bowels. Other creatures wailed in anguished unison, while some whimpered in the filthy mixture of shadows and torment.

Eriden had his hands clamped over his ears. He couldn't keep out the lamentations of the damned as he sat in his cell of rock and putrid water. And if not for the forcefield's purple glow placed over the wide opening, he would have been steeped in darkness. Another forcefield gleamed just beyond his own, in between the walkway, so large he couldn't see its borders where he sat.

In the opposite cell, something moved in the near-blackness.

The ticks of rainfall pattered, but something sounded off about it. Eriden couldn't hear the splash and spray of water droplets hitting the ground. It was too clean, too crisp. He squinted as the arching shapes moved in all areas of the cell, slithering amidst the curtains of shadows, until a figure revealed itself behind the forcefield.

The rain ceased when the figure stopped. Eriden's heart raced, looking upon the slim frame of a young girl with long red hair and sallow skin. She rested on her stomach, arms at her sides, chin on the cold rock. The forcefield obscured the girl's features.

"Hello there," said Eriden, his voice echoing in his cell.

The girl didn't respond. Instead, she looked away and moved across the length of the opening, the sound of rain resuming. Terror gripped Eriden, watching as the girl's tiny waist met the round, chitinous flesh of a millipede's body. It stretched along the ceiling and walls, and Eriden realized there had never been any rain.

It had been the tapping of thousands of legs.

Eriden buried his face in his knees, shutting his eyes as if he could somehow staunch the pure dread working its way through his bones. What kind of hell was he in? Was he already dead? Only several hours must have passed, but Eriden felt like it had been days. If he didn't get out of here, insanity would take him. He was certain of it. Even now, inaudible whispers tried burrowing into his mind, surely hissing maledictions and curses.

They were getting louder.

Eriden ached to use his magic to force out the voices—by the gods, he was a blood ghoul—but he knew if he released so much as a sliver of energy, the spells embedded within the forcefield would destroy him instantly. The intricate glyphs had been branded along the surface, meant to keep someone like Eriden in check.

What was he going to do? Most of the witches wanted him dead, especially the Second Queen who sent him here. A mage couldn't hope to survive this. Teeth grinding, fists nearly crushing his ears with the pressure, tears welled in his eyes for the first time in...he didn't know how long.

Steps sounded down the corridor beyond.

Eriden sat up, fear and adrenalin surging. He had to stop himself from flaring his energy nexus when multiple long shadows extended into his line of sight. They got shorter and shorter until three tiny, old women in black robes stood behind the forcefield. They were mostly identical, with short-cropped black hair and stony expressions, staring intently at Eriden.

"Who are you?" asked Eriden. "Where am I?"

"We are agents of Her Majesty," said the witch in the middle, "and you are within Nevaeh's depths known as the Screaming Caves. We are its wardens here." She paused and regarded him. "I've been instructed to answer any questions you may have. Do so, and then I shall ask mine."