Goddess Complete (Chronicles Of KieraFreya Book 3)
Goddess Complete
Chronicles Of KieraFreya™ 03
Michael Anderle
This book is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.
Copyright © 2019 Michael Anderle
Cover by Mihaela Voicu http://www.mihaelavoicu.com/
Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing
A Michael Anderle Production
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LMBPN Publishing
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First US edition, September
eBook ISBN: 978-1-64202-463-0
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Character Sheet
Creator Notes - Michael Anderle
Books by Michael Anderle
Connect with the author
The Goddess Complete Team
Thanks to our JIT Readers
Dave Hicks
Deb Mader
Diane L. Smith
Dorothy Lloyd
Jeff Eaton
Kelly O’Donnell
Larry Omans
Peter Manis
If We’ve missed anyone, please let us know!
Editor
The Skyhunter Editing Team
To Family, Friends and
Those Who Love
To Read.
May We All Enjoy Grace
To Live The Life We Are
Called.
Prologue
The air was filled with the acrid stench of sulfur. Poisonous black clouds darkened the skies, puffing in small bursts from the open mouths of vents littering the land.
A land that stretched on for infinity, a kind of limbo differentiated only by towering rock formations. Rugged things that broke free of the land and reached for the sky like fists from the grave.
The creature walked on.
His head hung down in shame, every footstep dragging, his mind lost in a darkness reflective of the land around him.
He came to a river. The water lay thick and black like motor oil, greasy rainbows staining the surface. A boat appeared in the water, its captain a blankly staring skeleton. It waited patiently.
The imp smirked. “How much to take me home?”
The skeleton gave no reply. Fukmos clambered in and took his seat as the skeleton placed a long paddle into the dark waters and maneuvered them into the heart of the river.
The ride was smooth despite the choppy waters. After a stretch, the water began to gently bubble and roll. Steam rose in billowing clouds, and through the fog, Fukmos could see the dead swimming in the river, heads breaching the surface like dark dolphins.
He placed a hand in the water, the skeleton at the front of the boat paying no attention as he continued to paddle.
Several hands reached for Fukmos’, passing straight through it. He grinned, enjoying the teasing of the dead. Even in death, the souls of mortals had no effect on the forms of the gods.
He returned his attention to the boat, surprised to see that the skeleton had paused, paddle half out of the water, and was now staring at him.
“What’s the matter? Am I not allowed to pet the animals? You didn’t say ‘hands and legs inside the ride at all times,’ did you?”
The skeleton continued to stare for a time, the intensity of its gaze unnerving. Fukmos looked into the pits of the skeleton’s eyes and was sure he could see something in there, watching him. Some other intelligence studying Fukmos from afar.
Who was he kidding? Of course, He was.
The skeleton’s bones creaked and its focus returned to rowing. The boat passed into the yawning mouth of a cave that plunged them both into unholy darkness. It was only when Fukmos snapped his fingers that emerald-green flames appeared at intervals along the cave’s wall, balancing precariously on small torches.
The river wound ever deeper into the cave. The skeleton guided them down forks in the river without hesitation.
A little farther on, the water began to quicken its pace. Fukmos knew this place well, having spent many of his formative years tracing and exploring the waters of the Underworld, and he knew that a little farther down that route would be a waterfall, the largest Obsidian had to offer.
A waterfall so large it made the Angel Falls look like a ripple in a stream.
At the bottom of the fall was a series of dagger-like rocks. Those condemned to suffer in the Underworld would tumble over the waterfall, plummeting thousands of miles to their inevitable re-death, then appearing back at the start of the falls and tumbling again. It was the ultimate punishment for the worst the world had to offer.
Fukmos shuddered. That sounded terrible even to him. But his father had his ways, and the god of death was hardly going to hug and squeeze people into oblivion.
They pulled up on an ashy shore. Fukmos exited the boat, then tipped an invisible cap to the skeleton. It wasn’t paying attention. It was already slipping the boat back into the water.
Fukmos started to climb the steps that spiraled into the higher reaches of the dark cave. After the first few, he realized his efforts were futile. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and melted into shadow, saving himself the exertion of the climb. Increasing his pace, he slithered up the stairs and rose ever higher.
He returned to his true form when he was a few steps from the top. A pair of shadowy sentinels in dark armor adorned with rusty spikes guarded the door but made no movement as Fukmos walked past.
He was expected, after all.
He strode across the large open chamber, stopping at the bottom of a short staircase. An imposing figure shrouded in a mist of darkness and shadow that writhed and coiled around his being like a serpent sat in silence on the dais. Eyes like blue flame flickered beneath his dark hood. The throne was decorated with the bones of folks long since passed.
Fukmos fell to one knee, sliding his eyes from the blue flames to the black rock on the floor. “Father.”
“Fukmos. You have failed.”
Fukmos swallowed hard. He frantically nodded, knowing how futile it would be to deny all that had occurred.
“A minor setback, almighty Dark One. A simple glitch in the plan is all. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed—isn’t already being fixed. Trust me, I don’t—”
“Trust is difficult to earn,” Asros interjected, his words cold and measured, “but it is very easy to lose. You have lost any semblance of trust that you might think you have.”
Fukmos continued his frantic nodding, his hands twisting together near his stomach.
“Understood, Dark One. But please, if you’ll just give me another chance, we can win this. The girl is still missing a piece of the armor. The biggest piece of all. And it is locked away. If we can keep that piece hidden, buried, and lost with the ancients, she is doomed to roam the world incomplete for the rest of her life. The threat will pass, the problem perish—”
Asros’ hands clutched the arms of the throne as he leaned forward angrily, eyes blazing. “The problem will not perish until the problem has been exterminated!”
He stared for a momen
t into Fukmos’ eyes. They had never been what anyone would consider “close” as a family, yet Fukmos had always felt a strange admiration for his father and hated to disappoint Him. He cowered and whimpered into his hands, waiting for his moment to speak again.
Asros leaned back impassively.
“As long as the girl exists, and as long as she carries the fallen goddess, we risk the unraveling of it all. Our little secret. I cannot allow this to happen.”
Asros raised a hand toward Fukmos. The imp was lifted off the ground, the air around his throat clamping like a physical force. His legs kicked as he began to choke.
“Fix it!” Asros roared. “Find a way to fix what you’ve done. I will not tolerate any more failures. Do you understand?”
Fukmos nodded, his body flailing in the air. The next thing he knew, he was in a crumpled heap on the floor. “Understood, O Dark One. Understood. No more failure. I can do this. You’ll see. I can do this.”
Fukmos got up, then bowed so low his nose touched the floor. He turned and strode back toward the stairs, freezing when he heard his father say, “I know you can.”
Fukmos spun.
“Because this time, you’ll have assistance.”
Asros clicked his fingers. A burst of smoke coalesced on either side of him, forming the shape of two girls. Although they looked child-like, Fukmos knew better. He had been around them for the better part of several millennia.
The girl on Asros’ left stepped forward. Her hair was long and black and flowed around her body as though she were underwater. She hovered several inches off the ground, and her eyes were vacant pools of white. “Of course, he does. Don’t you, Fukey?”
Fukmos’ nostrils flared and he glared at the girl.
“Oh, now, don’t tease, Myaris,” the second girl, Dryana, said. Where her sister’s hair was long and flowing, hers was short and thin. There were clumps of it missing from her scalp, and her skin seemed to be poxed, not that it seemed to pain her. “You know he only likes causing the mischief, not receiving it.”
“Too bad,” Myaris replied. “I thought we could have some fun together on the surface world for once. It’s been terribly boring down here without you.”
“And to think, all that time up there wasted,” Dryana teased. They giggled like schoolgirls, although there was an emptiness to their tone. “Weeks and weeks, and nothing to show for it.”
“We slowed her down,” Fukmos flared. “The host…Valoric-whatever-that-bitch’s-name-was. We slowed her down. Created a challenge.”
“Oh, really?” Myaris laughed. “As I understood it, you collected the armor for her, then delivered the goods on a silver platter. Isn’t that what you told us, Father?”
Asros sat silently, watching with a studious eye.
Fukmos frowned at the pair. “Mistakes were made. It will not happen again.”
He turned back to the stairs. His eyes were dark, his pride bruised. He walked briskly, hoping he would be allowed to exit without the nuisances following. The girls had caused him untold torment and irritation in their formative years when the world was young.
Before he reached the third step, a cold voice spoke.
“No. It will not,” Asros crooned. “Remember, I made you. In failure, you can be undone.”
Fukmos nodded, then sped down the stairs, chased by the haunting giggles of the dark-haired girls as they followed him.
Chapter One
Therese planted her feet. The edge of the forest was in sight. All around her, she could feel their presence, but the damn creatures had once again camouflaged themselves within the shadows.
“When there’s something strange in your neighborhood…” she murmured, shield ready in one hand, hammer in the other.
Huk shifted uneasily. “Who you gonna call?”
He stood a few feet behind Therese, his goblin eyes scanning the forest. The setting sun shone through the trees, its final rays bright enough to impair their vision and leave blank spots in their eyes.
Gideon sighed. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Ghostbusters.” Ben grinned, his bowstring creaking as he held it taut.
Something moved in the corner of his eye. He released the string, letting the arrow soar through the trees and find its mark. There was a groan of pain as the projectile took a large chunk of the creature’s health.
“Bingo,” Chloe said, her Dark Vision identifying the ghouls dotted around the group.
Several of them rushed out of the trees in unison.
They were strange creatures. They looked like severely malnourished hags with thin, bracken-like arms and legs, and forms that could melt into their surroundings. Their skin was marbled blue and black, their eyes dark orbs in their faces.
“To the right,” Veronica shouted.
Chloe whirled, an Ice Shard forming in her hand. She threw the missile and pierced the ghoul’s shoulder. The ghoul was knocked back but continued coming for her.
Ben was ready. Casting Double Shot, he loosed two arrows, one taking its place in the ghoul’s cheek, the other skimming its skin and finding the one behind it.
The first ghoul went down, crumbling into a heap. Its body evaporated into the forest floor.
“Left!” Talbot called. “Big ones, too.”
“Spread-eagle!” Chloe shouted.
The team took their positions, putting their training into practice.
The “spread-eagle” tactic was simple, involving the team positioning themselves in a tight cluster with the warriors and clerics in the center (in this case, Talbot, Huk, Leonie, and Veronica), flanked by the two mages (Chloe and Gideon).
The tank took front and center, blocking direct oncoming attacks with their shields (Therese), while long-range fighter (Ben) took the rear.
Hovering around the edge of battle, ready to charge when required, was—
“Blueballs!” Chloe shouted after the lumbering blue toffet, already bounding on his powerful paws toward several ghouls that had materialized in the woods beside them. He was already gnashing his razor-sharp teeth, ready to take down the enemies.
“He’s got it, Chloe,” Gideon called back, summoning his Volt Shock spell and shooting sparks ahead.
He took a few steps forward, opening up the formation for the warriors to attack. Chloe completed the maneuver on her side, the cluster of players spreading out like the wings of an eagle.
Chloe held her sword high, imbuing the blade with Deic Light. KieraFreya’s mythical sword was incredible—light, sharp, and able to maneuver at her every whim to cut down the enemies ahead of her, not that she expected anything else from the personal armory of the goddess of retribution.
“A little higher,” KieraFreya whispered into Chloe’s ear, the magical armor taking a life of its own. Chloe’s sword swiped at a ghoul and created a deep cleft in its stomach, which oozed thick, dark liquid. “I personally find that if you go for the head, you only need one chop.”
“Thank you for that.” Chloe decapitated the ghoul with the next swing.
“You’re welcome. Maybe one day you, too, will become a fearsome warrior, as I once was.”