Chapter 187: Life Or Death [6] (2/2)

A chill passed over him. With his nakedness came awareness of how vulnerable he was. Gallazza crossed his arms over his chest and tucked his knees up close to his body. The empty space between his legs jarred him. Heaven's tears, they'd taken everything from him. Arkhat, why? The question wracked him. What's the purpose of it all?

”Watch him … her, I guess,” the boy crouched next to Chang Chang said. ”She's goin' wild through the eyes.”

”Titan's torso,” the boy said, addressing king Laggarma. ”If this is her true form, she had no idea.”

”She must be one of their higher-ups,” king Laggarma said. ”An abyssal priestess or some other ranking female—must be why they're coming after us now. They want her back.”

”Stop calling me a female!” Gallazza screeched. The high-pitched sound mocked him. He wanted to kill every one of them. Hatred roiled in his belly, suppressing the panic for a moment. ”You did this to me! You—”

”No,” Chang Chang said, interrupting him. Compassion shone in her eyes, which made Gallazza hate her more. ”Listen to me, Gallazza,” she pleaded. ”I don't know why this was done to you, or what it means, but this is your true form. There is no more magical essence left on you.”

”Lying bug,” Gallazza snarled. He couldn't contain himself any longer. He lunged at Chang Chang, a feral cry ripping from his lungs.

Next to her, the young boy reacted like lightning, blocking his path, but he needn't have worried. Gallazza's strength had not yet returned in the wake of Chang Chang's mystical bust, and he was not used to this new body. His limbs refused to obey him properly, and he ended up collapsing on his stomach, the breath knocked from his chest, his long hair spread around him. Sucking in ragged breaths, Gallazza tried to channel his hate into energy but to no avail. He slammed his fist against the floor and screamed in impotent rage.

”She's as weak as I am … or nearly,” king Laggarma said. Gallazza didn't look at the king. He couldn't bear to see that smug dwarf face, those silver eyes he wanted to tear out. ”If she is someone valuable, we might have the advantage over the yaomo.”

”But why was she sent here in this form,” Ju Feng said, ”with no knowledge of her true identity?”

”Maybe she was never meant to be a weapon used against Myria,” Chang Chang said. ”Titan's torso, I know she's caused enough chaos, intended or not, but what if this is part of some other yaomo plot?”

At her words, Gallazza went very still. Like a candle lit in a darkened room, a memory came to him in faint images, whispers. King Laggarma's voice and the voices of the others faded, replaced by a soothing chant. Gallazza closed his eyes to hear it. In his mind, he saw an obsidian altar covered in symbols and stained with the blood of old sacrifices. His perspective hovered above the altar, so that he could not see the face of the female yaomo who crouched before it, chanting in a soft, velvet-smooth voice. He recognized that voice. It had issued from his throat only a breath ago.

”I knew I'd find you here,” said a new voice, coming from somewhere out of sight.

The figure before the altar halted in her prayers and looked up. For the first time, Gallazza was able to see his new face, and it struck him, bewilderingly, how beautiful it was, and at the same time how faintly similar to his own male visage. The flaws he'd exhibited in his male form were corrected in the female. Muddy red eyes deepened to a rich scarlet, and high cheekbones accentuated them. The crooked nose was now straight and small. In his vision, his fall of white hair had been tied back, secured with ribbons studded with onyx and ruby. Taken together, the features looked so natural, that Gallazza felt the first twinges of foreboding deep in his gut.

”The preparations have been made. You can't stop what I've begun,” said the kneeling woman. A second figure joined her at the altar. Gallazza recognized Mistress Mother Furtha. She angled herself on her knees so she faced the altar and Gallazza's double.

”I know. May we both be worthy for the task ahead.”

Swaying forward on her knees, she kissed the other female, raising a hand to bury it in her thick white hair. Gallazza watched with a sense of detached amazement as his double leaned into the kiss, and his own body reacted, filling with warmth, desire, and frightening affection—for the woman he hated above all other yaomo.

This can't be right. He had no memory of such an interlude between himself and the mistress mother, yet the physical sensations coursing through his blood were so familiar. His skin tingled, reawakened by the phantoms conjured before him. More images crowded his thoughts, superimposing themselves over the scene.