Kazverse updated glossary

 

Glossary to Kaz’s world

 

Magic -  magic is common. Anyone can learn to perform magic, and many people do, even if only day-to-day cantrips.  The use of magic is dependent on the magical power of the caster, which can be exhausted, and requires rest to restore it. An average person might manage ten common spells a day before exhaustion; one or two deep spells is enough to bring most people to total exhaustion, which also expresses itself as physical exhaustion.

 

Types of Magic

Cantrips -  common, everyday magic such as is used for folding linen, or small cleansing spells, smell removal, banishment of small amounts of  rubbish, breath-freshening, digging out weeds.

Spells -harder to learn, but still anyone may learn them. Some are secret or unique to a particular cult, some forbidden by some cults, and if progressing within a cult to initiation, will be wiped from the memory by the god involved. [Athelos will not permit spells with a bludgening effect; he is death, the sword, and a piece of two-by-four is beneath his notice as a weapon.]

Glyph/God magic -  these spells may be at the use of anyone who has been initiated into a cult or of Glyph rank, but as one-use spells to anyone below glyph-rank since they are cast using godly power, and to do so is beyond the use of  ordinary mortals, though those high in their cult’s favour can channel them. Being tied to a god at this level also permits the use of magic with the wearing of iron, which normally interferes with any magic cast.

 

Glyph,– mystical symbols which may be used to form writing or to hold a singular meaning, used to scribe spells and magical effects. Only the most powerful can use Glyphs, which are god-magic. The use of magic through glyphs may be granted to the favoured of a god, those known as glyph-rank, whose training has ensured that they may channel such powerful spells. To possess, ie understand and be tied to, glyphs  is to possess real power, and is the beginning of the path to herodom or even to becoming a minor deity.  A glyph-lord holds personally the glyph of control, showing that he or she is at one with his or her body, and may meditate to perform above the level of  what is usually considered humanly possible [cf Miyamoto Musashi in our world whose body control was so great that he could balance a mat on rice straws, and then climb onto it without it collapsing.] A glyph-priest holds personally the rune of magic to facilitate channelling god magic. Holding both is the key to starting herodom.

 

Runes –  mystical symbols which may be used to form writing or to hold a singular meaning, used to scribe spells and magical effects.  May be used by anyone knowledgeable, though it is rare as even common writing is rare.

 

Sigils – A combination of mystical writings in a particular pattern to provide a particular effect. Can be learned by anyone like runes, but need someone of more than average magical power to activate.

 

Wards – sigils, runes, or glyphs of warding, to protect an area, which may send a warning, or release a guardian spirit to attack intruders, or merely prevent certain types of person from passing.

 

Races - the most common race is humanity. Easterlings have pointed ears and flatter faces, but are still human.  The other major pre-chaos races are:

 

Toróg.  They are the children of Luna/Rogaz, the blue moon, and Tor, god of darkness, death, and berserkers. Originally, every female was six-breasted and fertile, their silver hair shining like moonlight, and priestesses able to take a switch of hair to make into a light like the moon in the dark caverns, or weave it into ritual cloth, or lay into stone in patterns of glyphs. In those days, the glyph of the moon was a circle divided into two white curved drops of sacred water. Now, one is black to signify the coming of Entropy and Chaos into the world, when Luna was raped by the ravening wolf from Outside. Because it was not natural, she was diminished by the birth of her chaos-infested twins, Selen, the red moon, and Daze, the trickster, lord of illusions, mirages, and misdirection. With this weakness, lesser Toróg were born, the Darklings, who are now the most common, and whose females never have more than four breasts and their hair is usually dark blue, and whose males consider themselves equal to females. The ritual performed by the High Priestesses to try to rectify this was unsuccessful, bringing forth only the Greater Toróg, all male, all stupid, slate grey rather than blue, but very strong. And the ritual was to take power back from Selen, and she and Daze conspired to put a curse on the Toróg, so that three in five births are now the diminished form of Trógling.

The Toróg are essentially a matriarchal theocracy which is concentrated in loose tribal organisation, with a High Toróg priestly council which meets from time to time. The one political truth that the Toróg group agree on is that they only like outsiders if they are on the menu. Toróg predate humans, but are very resistant to change, ironic considering the many sub-races which have arisen.

 

Hamae are a race of shy and secretive forest folk. They have associations with the trees, and some, the dryads, live entirely within the trees. They tend to keep themselves to themselves, but occasional forest communities are found to hold Hama blood, being a way the Hamae find to protect themselves, by making the locals kindred rather than killing them outright, as there is interfertility. If encountered, they tend to the mischievous and are fond of playing jokes. They hate Daze and all his works as tainted mischief.

 

Chaos races – formed when the birth-blood of Luna fell to earth giving birth to her chaotic godly twins.  Lycoids, or werewolves were formed when a goat-herd defended his goats from a wolf, which also gave rise to the Tragosti, or goat-men, who are neither strongly chaotic nor free of taint, and have no protector. Lycoids carry diseases including lycanthropy and hydrophobia and distemper.  Other odd fusions are ‘ducks’ or Marsh-Creepers, a synthesis of man, lizard, and bird, barely sentient, and malevolent; Androsaurs, lizard-men, secretive and convinced that they are the spawn of mythical dragons and destined to become such; and Blood-suckers, or vampires, not strictly a race, but definitely chaotic.

Other chaotic beings may be encountered, often one of a kind, as well as chaos animals.

 

Political divisions

The story mainly covers the region of Limnestos, the region of city states, which is broken into greater and lesser city states of more or less power.  The Selenite empire is a large, bureaucratic empire which has overrun many smaller states, suppressing what they consider to be seditious gods or practices, as they hope to do in Limnestos. To the east is another ancient bureaucratic empire, which has little to do with outsiders. In the North, in the region of the Depression, petty kinglets fight, ally, make marriage settlements, break treaties, and occasionally band together for a war-ride to grab loot. The Selenites consider them to be barbarians, like the plainsfolk.

 

Religion – Religion permeates everyday life as there are gods and goddesses covering most aspects of life, as well as minor deities who protect families, religious places, markets, and so on; much akin to the Kami of Japan, and often tied to a particular place.  Their power is usually limited, but may provide enough for warding, for example.

The principle god is Solos, the sun, and his wife, Zea, fertility. They have a number of children, principal of whom is Pollonis, the face of Solos, keeper of Justice, guarding, and inspiration. He has a son, Polos, god of Knowledge. Other children of Solos and Zea are the grain goddesses, principal of whom is Nevra, the goddess of rain, who is married to Anemois, God of Winds. Their children, Zephyra, Boros, Notos, and Yuros are the four directional winds, Ombros is god of storms, and Thyella, the Celestial Virgin, is goddess of lightning and wildfire. Solos has also fathered a selection of stars, some of whom have once-mortal lovers placed in the sky as constellations to be with them. Also his daughters are Eaxis and Dysis, dawn and sunset. Their children are Polaros, the northern star, and Hespa, the star of evening, children of Eaxis, and Astros, the dusk before moonrise, son of Dysis. Zeandine is a goddess of spring and lust, and Secalia, a grain goddess. Mycota is the daughter not only of Solos but of Eukaryota, a spirit of darkness and mother of Sakaromysea, who invented alcohol. Eukaryota seduced Solos at the gates of dusk, when he was tired, with her daughter’s wine, and made him drunk enough to succumb to her embraces. Mycota is first born of their night together, but also Zygomia and Ascomia, mothers of moulds, and Lichena, mother of mosses and lichens. Solos cursed alcohol thereafter to degrade a male’s performance under its influence, even though he could not destroy its ability to inflame the senses.”

 

Other deities include Alethos, who represents both truth and death, a stern warrior’s god, and his sister Latrika, the healer. Phrodine is the goddess of love, in all its forms, and maintains sacred prostitutes, whose establishments are marked with green lamps, and are guaranteed free of disease. Many believe that Alethos, Latrika, and Phrodine are as ancient as Solos, and as powerful, as they represent primal powers. Their mother is Moraia, Fate.  They represent the Healing Trio, who quested to bring healing to the weather gods during their time of insanity after the collapse of the blue moon wrought such damage to the earth that civilisations fell, and refugees fled across the desert to start again at the new lakes made by the craters of falling rocks.  The weather gods, wracked by chaotic forces, roamed the desert in panic and wild outburst until the Trio forced them into one area of roiling maelstrom and drew them out, and brought them comfort, one by one.

The weather gods are therefore particular enemies of the Blood Moon and are collectively known, as are their followers, as Knights of the Clear Starlight or Knights of the Clear Skies. Alethos is contemptuous of them, as they have no idea how much light the Blue Moon used to bring to the world at night, making the stars pale before her brilliance, and hiding those behind her disk at any one time as she progressed regally through the heavens from the ending of sunset to the beginning of dawn. There are those things which, in their madness, they have forgotten.

Knights of the Clear Skies, aka Skyhealers are required by cult dogma to address chaos with poetry before attacking, as their challenge.

“Cursed by chaos, shunned by light

Whimper now at my despite!

Turn and flee from my demand

Or I will kill you where you stand!”

 

Merkedes is the trader’s god, and some say that a hero of his, Kleptos, is god of those who like to trade goods without giving any returns, and who work at night without their trading partner’s permission. Kyrios is the smith of the gods, and is an associated god of Alethos, though also venerated by other warrior cults and farming cults alike.

 

Gods of the plainsfolk

Though the plainsfolk venerate Solos, they give their main veneration to Father Sky and Mother Land. Theologists argue that Father Sky is synonymous with Solos, and their worship of the sun is that of Pollonis, giver of light. Their other gods are Father Horse, or the Skyhorse, who also brings storms, and his son, Pieran, the Flash, which is Thyella. Also there are Father Bull, Mother Cow, and the Son of Rebirth, whose abilities and gifts change with the seasons. Sacrifices from the best of the season are made to him, and on the shortest day the prettiest girl in the village is led to a special hut to tempt him out of the underworld to bring back spring. She spends the night there, along with mead, cider, bread and salt. The girl is locked in the hut, and if she returns to the village pregnant it is considered the best of good luck, for the Son of Rebirth has visited her.

 

Toróg gods

Luna/Rogaz is the principal deity; Luna the spiritual and moon-face aspect, and Rogaz, the physical aspect and mother of the Toróg.  The two aspects were ripped apart by the rape of the Blue moon by the Wolf from Beyond, and they cannot now join to bless fertility as they used to.

However, Rogaz can bless the most powerful of her Darkling priestesses, if they will risk rebirth into High Toróg with a 24 hour magical ritual in a stone womb, at which they either emerge changed into a High Toróg, or have died. In practise, no more than one in five who attempt rebirth survive it, which is why it is not a ritual to be entered lightly. No Darkling with fewer than four breasts has ever survived it, and there appears to be a correlation between those with darker skin and lighter hair surviving, carrying more traits of the rare High Toróg.

Tor is god of death, darkness, and berserker power. He revels in death and gore, and is happy to use the bodies of the slain as zombies and skeletons to guard places, something anathema to Alethos, the principal human god of death.  The two are great enemies and have fought battles, including one in which Tor wounded Alethos in the thigh.

Kazynn is the child of Rogaz, father unclear, who is known as midwife; she is also goddess of healing, and euthenasia of those Trógling babies too weak to live, and who separates the souls of trógling killed for the table, so that souled beings are not killed for food. Any already dead don’t count.

Zog is the twin of Kazynn, and is god of rocks and soil. He works closely with his mother, disappointed by the loss of Mycota whom he had admired from afar.

Mycota is a daughter of Solos, and consort, unwillingly, of Tor. Kidnapped by him, she was tricked into trying a snack which bound her to his hospitality. Heroes quested to rescue her, but the best that could be achieved was that she might return to earth for the Autumnal months, to make sure that fungi are renewed in the earthly realms, as well as growing them underground for the feasting of Tor’s warriors. They have two daughters, Toxia, or Zhargul, goddess of poisons, and Fthysia, or Ekzynn, goddess of decay.

 

Hamae gods

The Hamae worship spirits of the forest, notably Phusia, goddess of primal nature, and her daughters Naphaea, Dendra, and Agria. [They are fathered by Rhe, god of rivers, who has many offspring, usually worshipped locally by whichever race they interact with.]

 

Chaos gods

The two principle chaos gods are Daze, and his twin, Selen, the Blood Moon, whose monthly phases have usurped the natural breeding cycle of human women, and whose flux may give her power. Selen is the face of the chaotic cults, and heroes of hers are the face of a mockery of the principal cults of pre-chaos. Thanus is her warrior champion, once named to celebrate an early name for Alethos, but apostate to his former god in his love for the red goddess. Selen herself covers love and fertility aspects of life, with Librax, her god of knowledge and learning, and Klerus, god of traders. Selen has no truck with weather magic, as most of the weather gods are her deadly enemies.

Daze is a god of illusion.  His followers try to draw others into traps by using riddles to make them look into the face of illusion. If too addicted to such enigmas, it would take a divine intervention to release anyone from his insidious use of their worship power, diverting it from their usual deity. He is also a god of thieves, though many thieves will not give him even lip service. What is unknown to most is that he also feeds on the agonies of enslaved Trógling, and snares their souls if they die without worship of any other god.

Daze and Selen are lovers as well as siblings, and have a son, Lycos, god of werewolves, and Aima, the Bleeding Daughter, who is goddess of the Blood-suckers or vampires. She seduces power-hungry humans into her worship with promise of eternal life, great strength, and much magical power. To be glyph-level in her cult, they must sacrifice their lives ritually and have their souls bound back into their bodies. 

 

Temple seniors

The senior member of a temple is typically both Glyph-Lord and Glyph-Priest, which one coming first tending to depend on which is considered more important for the cult. The leader of each cult’s temple usually has a special name to differentiate their leaders.

Solos – Lightfather

Pollonis – Ray

Polos – Librarian

Zea – Earthmother

Ombros – Thundermaster

Thyella – Fulminatrix

Alethos – Commandant.  Glyph-Lords may also be known as Hands of Alethos, Priests as Tongues of Alethos, and Initiates as Swords of Alethos, or informally, Swordbrothers/sisters.

Latrika – Healer-in-chief                       

Phrodine – Adoratrix

Merkedes – Guildmaster

 

 

Money

Different countries have different currencies but largely speaking the denominations are sufficiently similar to be honoured. I give the coinage of Limnesthos and some other coins to be found.

Solestos pl. Solesti – a golden coin. Vulgarly, Sol or Sols.  Five golden coins a year is about the usual pay of labourers and low class servants, who also either have some perquisites, or keep a small-holding, or have their keep paid; ten solesti is about the yearly living cost. A professional will garner some 30-90  solesti a year.

Pent, pl. Penti, five Hydri or ¼ Solestos.

Hemi-Pent, half a pent, two and a half Hydri, 25 chalcos                   

Hydra, pl. Hydri, a silver coin, 20 of which make up a solestos.

Hemi-hydra, half a hydra.

Chalco, a copper coin, ten to the hydra, or 200 to the solestos.

Hemo, half a chalco

Tetart, a quarter of a chalco

There are also two- and three- chalco pieces.

 

A Moon is the Selenite equivalent of a Solestos, minted from red-gold, and not accepted by many people. The Plainsfolk call the gold coin a Gilder.

An Imperial is a Selenite silver coin approximately equivalent to the Pent; the plainsfolk also have a similar coin they call the Calf, and the easterners have something similar called a ring, which has a hole through it, but is the same weight in silver. All easterner coins have holes in them, and are strung on strings to the value of higher amounts.

 

 

Toróg money - Torog count money in bars, and use bronze not copper. A bronze bar is worth about the same as a Pent, and is moulded in divisions to break apart into ten. Each piece of bar is worth about five chalcos. They tend to use barter for smaller quantities.

 

Hamae – Hamae have no money and consider the whole concept ridiculous. If they pay in coin, it will be found to be an illusion. They literally do not understand that losing money can be a matter of life or death to humans, and despise their dependency on stupid tokens.

 

 

Days of the week

There are ten days of the week and three weeks to the month.

Sunsday

Moonsday

Fatesday

Windyday

Loveday

Earthday

Rainday

Marketday

Lifeday

Deathday

 

 

Noble names in the city states

Chrysandos   Phaodorus   Xulon   Petrodios  

Agrosion, Xanthion, Zorb

 

Noble names in the Selenite empire.

Kron   Lex   Dren   Drex   Cass   Mils

Second tier families

Sorn   Doxus   Aren   Dax   Veren   Clodis   Helio   Titus   Lars   Arnth

 

death's knight 4

 

Chapter 4

 

Pythas stood, grimly, overlooking the place of execution. He was backed up by Harkon, his friend Zalmox, Pythas’s daughter, Lelyn, and Kaz. Kaz was along mostly for her personal connection to Alethos, which Pythas had no hesitation in exploiting.

Pythas frowned at Allenna Dren and Clodus Mils.

“I wish to make a formal protest about the travesty of the ‘Death’ glyph being used in this way,” he said. “It has long been used to display the bodies of bandits, but purely as part of a rite and prayer to prevent them from being used as undead. It is displeasing to my god that his glyph be used to execute criminals, but he is much angered  that you plan to so misuse it to murder hostages.”

“Grow up, Pythas; this is about politics, not the gods,” sneered Mils. “Besides, it is also a symbol of my god, Thanus, one of our Brothers Under the Moon.”

“The gods are about everything, Mils,” said Pythas. “Moreover, I do not recognise Thanus as a god, since he is only an upstart apostate of my god, whose tongue is so far up the backside of Selen that he eats her bogies with it.”

Mils went a shade of purple normally only seen in an embarrassed Darkling Toróg.

“You go too far, Pythas!” he tried to boom, but managed only to squawk.

“Do I?” said Pythas. “I would say I do not go far enough. Thanus interrupted his training as a hero to join your blood cults, and as such does not have a full understanding or use of the ‘Death’ glyph, which he fumbles around in his inept, ungodly way, and cannot give his misguided fools of worshippers true tools of protection against the undead, because he is feeble.”

Mils snarled.

Thanus did not grant as much protection against the undead as Alethos.

“We do not fear the undead as you do, but accept them as part of the blessed moon’s way,” said Mils.

“Care for a wager, old boy?” asked Pythas, offensively. “I wager that Alethos can destroy all these murderous poles and that Thanus cannot prevent him from doing so.”

Mils sneered.

“The gods will not intervene on such a matter, even if you have sacrificed to have divine intervention cast at your will,” he said.

“We shall see,” said Pythas. He raised his arms.

“Oh, Alethos, hear me, I beseech thee; destroy these travesties of thy purity as death who comes in love as a friend, something Thanus does not understand.”  He shot Mils a look, and added maliciously, “And never will.”

“Thanus prevent this foolery!” cried Mils, convinced that nothing would happen, and that he could then claim Thanus’s power in preventing a curse.

“How spectacular do you think Pythas wants?” asked Alethos’s voice in Kaz’s head. “With you as a focus I can do almost anything.”

“Enjoy yourself being showy,” thought back Kaz.

“Pythas has shaped up very nicely,” approved Alethos. “One day I must tell you some of the stories of his wild and reckless youth.”

Kaz chuckled.

“Do I want to know?” asked Pythas, quietly.

“Alethos is about to be showy,” said Kaz. “And he promised to tell me tales of your youth.”

“Ah, my geas for the gift of this piece of theatre,” said Pythas, ruefully.

 

“See? Nothing is happening,” said Mils.

“It is; you have not felt it yet,” said Pythas.

There was a low rumbling; and the ground began shaking. Kaz’s eyes burned amber as her god and beloved used her body to reach the ground in front of them. As they watched, the execution hill and surrounding area needed to accommodate so many execution poles sank down into the ground, carrying the imperfect glyphs with it. A perfectly circular hole started filling with clear crystalline water.

“You were saying?” said Pythas.

Mils was white.

“It’s not possible!” he cried.

“It is,” said Pythas. “Tell your adolescent fool of a god not to try to play with the grown-ups.”

“Well, that was interesting,” said Alethos, including all of his worshippers there. “I was able to use the connection of these places of murder to each other so that every Selenite execution hill is now a pool of water.”

 Pythas and his comrades knelt and made the signs of Death and Truth, sacrificing from their magical hearts in gratitude.

“Your god has declared himself an enemy of the Selenite Empire!” cried Mils, shrilly. “Your Excellency! What is to be done about them?”

The Inquisitor had been watching, keeping aloof; he was ashen-faced.

“We will find another shape to use and eschew the ‘Death’ glyph,” he said. “Let a straight pole be used, with a crossmember. Send your men to cut more wood.”

“It will take many days; we have used all the wood that can be reached conveniently,” said Mils, licking his lips nervously.

“Then they shall he hanged from the balconies of public buildings!” cried Lazar Kron.

Kaz made a sign to a trógling in the Alethosi retinue. The youth ran off.

Within an hour, there would be no rope to be had, unless the Selenites stripped it from ships. Those rope chandlers who did not support the Empire would happily have their rope hidden, and claim to have had a big order; those whose allegiance was unknown or was for the empire would just have their stores raided.

 

A messenger ran up to Nils.

“My lord! The barracks has been attacked by warriors of the Knights of the Clear Starlight, under the Blue Moon banner!” he cried.”

“We shall have a famous victory over them,” gloated Mils. “They will die in a trap.”

“M…my lord, they attacked from the rear, and used the lightning spells of the god of storms, Ombros, and his sister, Thyella, lady of lighting and wildfire, the Celestial Virgin. There’s a big hole in the back and the Knights of the Clear Starlight swarmed through it and went through the whole compound like locusts, driving those of our common soldiery who did not know about the pit into it!”

“Thanus’s balls!” said Mils. “How did they know?” He paled. “My lord inquisitor! Your slave – it must have been suborned by the partisans!”

“Take men to my palace and kill every slave!” screamed Lazar Kron.

 

He was to be too late with this, as Rynn had been tasked with removing them all whilst he was busy with supervising the raising of the crosses.

Protasion, Svargia, and Vulk lead the wolf-troops in emptying the arenas, and Polia left with the sketch Kaz had made of what she had imagined as sigils and runes of opening an imaginary gate, which had convinced Selenite road-builders that their slave task force had been removed by some strange Steppe magic.

 

Back at the former execution ground, Pythas smiled beatifically. “Your excellency, Lord Mils, Lady Dren. I have the honour to inform you that a state of war now exists between the city state of Mesolimnos and the Selenite Empire.”

“What?” barked Lazar Kron.

“It’s simple enough. You are our foes. Will you surrender peacefully into my custody?”

“The hell I will! Men! Kill the Alethosi!” cried Mils.

Pythas grinned.

“At last,” he said. “A bit of exercise, this chilly morning.”

The silent entourage drew weapons. It was almost like a drill; simultaneous removal of swords from scabbards filled the air with a metallic hiss.  It was plain that the fight was anticipated.

Nils suddenly realised how many cloaked figures watching the proceedings were actually Alethosi, in full armour, and ready to die on their lord’s command, for their god and for their city. He quailed.

He regained confidence when the lines of battle arranged themselves and he found himself facing a trógling. Well, that should be easy enough. Contemptuously, he went to batter away her sword, but found her parrying, and knocking his sword aside. Wait, that should not be possible unless…

Unless his opponent also had an iron sword.

A trógling with an iron sword?

And iron armour. 

A trógling glyph-lord of Alethos?

He was still wondering how this might have come about when the iron sword of his opponent sashayed around his, spun into the back stroke, and Nils died, somewhat surprised.

The loss of their commander seemed to demoralise the rest of the troops, and some of them broke and ran.

This was the first true battle in which Kaz had participated; and she was surprised how like a drill it could be, if one only ignored the stench of fear, blood, and body fluids. She was glad that she had increased her stamina over the last few years, so that she might fight on through a battle which continued not for a few minutes, but for well over an hour, by the time the pockets of resistance were wiped out.

“I need a bath,” said Kaz.

“You and the rest of us,” said Lelyn. “That was pretty… messy.”

“Full on battle usually is,” said Pythas, giving his daughter a swift embrace, and including Kaz in it. “You’re both very young.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what it is to have a father, but if I had one, I’d wish him to be like you,” said Kaz.

“Well, now! My wife and I are always there for you,” said Pythas, gruffly. “Back to the temple, I suppose; and a war council with the other cult leaders to deal with an inevitable siege.”

 

In the town centre, Pollosi and Ombrosi warriors were carousing.

“Hey, Pythas!” yelled Erippion Windblown, Thundermaster of Ombros, the same rank as Pythas in his own cult. “We had a little scrap with those damned Selenites – thanks for the intelligence about the pit! Never found the hostages, though. What have you been up to this morning?”

“Oh, did a little praying, and some drill,” said Pythas. “Nothing exciting.  Oh, and as you’d decided to be noisy, I told that snotty faced inquisitor that Mesolimnos is now at war with the Selenite Empire. There seemed no point in hiding it anymore.”

“Ha! I’d have loved to have seen the little twerp’s face! What was it like?”

“Rather surprised until the light went out of his eyes. He was no great challenge.”

“Hang on, how did you stop the two hundred men he had with him?”

“I did tell you we did a little drill after our prayers,” said Pythas, moving on.

“Weren’t you going to tell him about what Alethos did, father?” asked Lelyn.

“Why should I? the blowhard will find out soon enough, even as he’ll find out that the city folk are home by now. We don’t have to blow our own trumpets. The facts will speak. And when he finds out about it when he is sober, he will appreciate it the more. I shall call a war council for the fifteenth hour.”

 

 

The war council included Erytheon Sun-Toucher, sun-seer of Solos, along with his brother, ChrysandionLightspear, Lightfather of Solos. The Lightfather also acted as chief judge in the city.

“That’s a coup, getting the Solosi to a meeting,” said Kaz.

“Yes, and Alethos has been sweating some sense into them and into Pollonis to accept you and your trógling corps,” said Pythas. “You’ve met Ray of Pollonis, Xanthos Brightspear, I believe?”

“Yes, got into an honour duel with him over me wearing iron,” said Kaz, making a face. “I made the point that I could use battlemagic and other magic despite wearing iron because I am tied to it by merit and the will of my god.”

“I heard you laundered him thoroughly with household cantrips,” said Pythas.

“Yes; I folded his cloak, soaped his mouth, wrung the sleeve ofhis spear hand, and finished up airhanging his clothes to blow in the breeze,” said Kaz, happily. “And what do you know, they work as well on Lightmakers as on Bloodsuckers.”

“So long as you cast on his clothes, not on him; how did you manage to soap his mouth?”

“Overpowered it,” said Kaz. “He rather got the point.”

Xanthos Brightspear was glaring at her, but said nothing, swallowing a snarl as she waved to him. He and Erippion Windblown were sober by now, and the latter burst out,

“You lied about what you did this morning, Pythas!  And you the Commandant of a Truth cult!”

“I did not lie,” said Pythas. “I passed on what we did in as complex a way as your drunken brain could handle it at the time. Prayed a little and did some drill. Defeating the men at the execution site was no more than a drill, really. And our prayers were moderately successful; Alethos informs me that he was able to use his anchor at one execution site to do much the same across the Empire. I wager there are a few worried Selenites; Lazar Kron almost shit himself.”

“How did you get the hostages out?” demanded Xanthos.

“It wasn’t actually me, but some of my people. And it’s a cult secret,” said Pythas. “But I will tell you that some cult heroes can open gates to Hell and back.”  The rescued hostages had all been subject to confusion spells, cast over an area, and basically believed what they had described to them. Protasion had described the glowing fungi and warned people not to touch them. Protasion’s father was on the council, and Pythas bowed to him. “Lord Aristides Chrysandos, your son led the contingent who rescued the hostages, with his friend, Evgon, whose parents had been taken.”

“My son isn’t a cult hero,” said Lord Aristides.

“Not yet, no,” said Pythas. “But he is on the quest path, and hangs around with others who also quest. He wants to make you proud of him, and to help lead the City States out of slavery in our war against the Blood Moon and her minions.”

“You Alethosi aren’t even Knights of the Clear Starlight,” said Xanthos.

“No, and we hope the Healing Trio won’t be needed this time, and that the gods of storm and wind will be more focused in their fury,” said Pythas, dryly. “But it is Alethos to whom Lycoids who hate their taint of chaos turn, and Alethos who changes the glyph ‘Taint’ to ‘Beast’ to permit them to be skinchangers without ties to the moon and to be free of disease. By compassion, we have allies, not dead foes.”

Xanthos flushed, but not as much as Erippion. The gods of wind and storm had gone insane when the fall of parts of the Blue Moon had disrupted the world, and Alethos and his sisters, Latrika and Phrodine, goddesses of healing and love respectively, had confined and healed them. It was something they wanted to forget.

“Let us come to order,” said ChrysandionLightspear. “It is unfortunate that the hot-headed actions of some of us has forced the issue, but as it is forced,  we need to decide what to do.  I understand that the governor, Ralthur Kron, has also vanished in suspicious circumstances. I beg your pardon, Pythas?”

“I snorted,” said Pythas. “Ralthur defected, something he has been planning for a long time.”

“Are you certain his defection is genuine?” asked Erippion.

“Are you certain you brought all your wits with you and did not leave it drowned in a cup of that rotgut the Plainsfolk drink?” said Pythas. “He defected from Thanus to Alethos, who confirmed him Glyph Lord with an additional gift and geas. You don’t get to glyph level in the cult of a god of Truth without being true to your word. He is under my command. And now, gentlemen, unless the sun-seer has anything to reveal, we need to plan; and that involves closing off our border.”

 

Death's Knight 3

 

Chapter 3

 

Ralthur Kron waited in his cellar after his household had gone to bed, with a bag of clothing and a few favoured possessions. He had a lamp with him. Suddenly, a flagstone in the floor lifted and moved to one side, and he looked down into the grinning blue face of a trógling.

“Ralthur Kron, I presume?” said the trógling.

“I… yes. Are you my guide?”

“Yes, I’m Kaz. You can douse your lantern and leave it somewhere innocuous, like the top of the steps.”

“Won’t I need it to see?”

“You won’t be seeing. What you can’t see, you can’t tell.”

“I am not about to betray the secrets of friends; I am now a glyph-lord of a god of truth.”

“Get off your high horse, Ralthur, you wouldn’t be doing this if Harkon did not trust you,” said Kaz. “But any man may be tortured beyond endurance.”

“You are insolent!”

“I’ll go away, then, and leave you to the Inquisitor who is due to arrive tomorrow,” said Kaz, starting to climb back down the hole.

“No! I… I want to come, but you don’t seem to know how to address a glyph-lord.”

“I address equals as an equal, Ralthur. Shift some of your preconceived ideas from your moon-ridden head; I’m no slave you can push about. I earned my glyph status without having the easy path of the worshipper of a second-rate godling with delusions of adequacy.  I accept you as an equal because my god asks me to do so and because Harkon asks me as a friend to do so, but don’t throw your weight around at me, or anyone else. Such imperial manners are not tolerated amongst the sword brothers of Alethos.”

“You are the one who is subject to prophecy?”

“Many of us are in such interesting times. Now, ditch the lamp… oh, put the damn thing out, and I will put it at the top of the steps. A fine thing it would be if I let you kill yourself for not being able to see in the dark. Rynn will guide you down the hole; you may want to sit down and edge towards it on your backside,”

Ralthur Kron found the absolute darkness terrifying, and being manhandled down a hole even more so. He reminded himself that he should trust in Alethos, and have courage to do what had to be done.

Many twisting passages later, some with the sound of running water, and being told to walk bent on a narrow ledge, he was led up into starlight.

“Well done; you survived the ordeal better than many,” said Kaz. “You have a room next to Harkon.”

Ralthur Kron was an austere man, and had not taken advantage of the luxuries available to a governor, so he was not disappointed in his austere quarters, with a largeish room with both bed and bedroom furniture divided off by a curtain from a day room with chairs and a large desk.

“I can hardly believe it!” he said.

“Believe it,” said Harkon. “Drill at dawn.”

 

oOoOo

 

The High Inquisitor arrived just before noon, having been harried on the road by a number of hit-and-run attacks. He was austere to the point of being ascetic with burning eyes, and was put out to find that Ralthur Kron had left a letter of resignation and had left.

“Seize one hundred citizens, and let it be known that if the rebels do not give themselves up, they will be responsible for their death by crucifixion,” said the Inquisitor, whose name was Lazur Kron, and who was a kinsman of Ralthur, and loathed his cousin, Ralthur, whom he considered soft.

One hundred random city folk were duly rounded up. They included the parents of one of Kaz’s friends, Evgon. Evgon was a cheerful youth with a guileless face and curly hair, and until recently had been slightly chubby with puppy fat. He was Kaz’s quartermaster.

“My parents will gladly die for the cause but why should they?” said Evgon. “They aren’t warriors. And there are children in that group! But how can we rescue a hundred from the murder-poles? We managed one at a time, but a hundred? I can’t see how.”

“So, we’ll remove them before they crucify their hostages,” said Kaz, grimly.  

“They will keep them securely somewhere, and where isn’t apparent,” said Ralthur. “And then, they will be guarded by hundreds.”

“If we could guarantee to get the Polloni and Solosi onboard, we could tell them we deliver the uprising in a frontal assault,” said Kaz. “But we can’t guarantee their discipline.”

“Blasted Knights of the Clear Starlight,” said Harkon. “Hearts in the right place, brains in their weapons.”

“Not to mention their bad poetry,” sniggered Kaz.

“And our job made harder because of that fool, Miklos Wolf-Foe,” snarled Vulk.

There was a growl of approval.

Not all Alethosi had welcomed the chaos-cured Lycoids at first, but showing themselves to be disciplined and valuable warriors, which had been the concern had allayed many misgivings.

It had, however, been Vulk and Polia who had snatched some of the child hostages away from the Selenites when  Miklos Wolf-Foe had confronted the Selenites who were grabbing people, and started off on his cultist poetry.

“Cursed by chaos, shunned by light

Whimper now at my despite!

Turn and flee from my demand

Or I will kill you where you stand!”

He had been rapidly taken into custody, and was being held with the rest of the hostages.

“He will make trouble when we rescue them,” said Protasion. The worshipper of Pollonis, god of light and truth, was a hothead. He had challenged Vulk before Vulk had been cured of his lycanthropy, and Vulk had bitten his finger off. It had not made Miklos any sweeter in disposition. He had tried to make trouble by reporting Vulk to Commandant Pythas, who had told him to stop telling lies about his initiates.

Miklos, who had been close to becoming a Glyph Lord had been stripped of his rank as senior initiate when Pythas complained about him telling lies.  Miklos had needed to talk fast not to be stripped of his initiateship entirely, but it was held that he meant well.

“We’ll have to truss him up the moment he makes trouble and dump him in his own temple,” said Kaz. “And make sure he sees nothing he can give away. They do not know, yet, that we use the sewers and drainage, nor do they have sufficient respect for trógling to have any idea that we have been taught stone-manipulating cantrips to enable mining. However, I’ve a mind to do what we did when we rescued a camp of Plainsfolk slaves,” she added.

Svargia sniggered.

“And that freaked them out, no end,” she said. “We cut through the back of the compound when the guards were distracted, and Kaz drew a circle on the floor of the hut, with made-up Runes, and the Selenites thought it was some strange Steppe magic.”

“It conceals what we really do, very nicely,” said Kaz. “A runic gate opened somewhere. And just scuffed enough to send the scholars insane.”

“Now we have to find out where they are kept,” said Harkon.

“The Selenites keep trógling slaves,” said Kaz. “Do you suppose they can tell one trógling from another?”

“One with long, lustrous hair? Yes,” said Harkon.

“Then I’ll cut it off,” said Kaz. “It’ll grow back. If Alethos wants it long, he’ll accelerate its growth out of pique.”

Harkon chuckled. He could well imagine that.

“Make a wig from it, to wear when being yourself, in case he doesn’t,” he warned.

“Good idea,” said Kaz. “Right, no time like the present; Lelyn, will you shave it short, and see to having a wig made?”

“Of course,” said Lelyn. “You’ll need to bind your breasts; you have quite apparent female assets these days, few enslaved trógling are well-enough fed to be as obviously female as you are.”

Kaz nodded.

It was one reason trógling were often overlooked; tending to have large heads and eyes in proportion to their bodies, and very little inside ragged tunics to identify them as male or female, they were treated very much as if they were particularly stupid children, a view not dispelled by a tendency to speak in simple sentences with little grammar appreciation, through a lack of parental care on the part of Darkling parents of Trógling, and a lack of ability on the part of trógling nurses.  Those who eavesdropped, like Kaz, learned more complex grammar.

“And if any of my household slaves realise you are not one of them – as they will?” asked Ralthur.

“I’m planning on stealing them at some point, anyway, because slavery is wrong,” said Kaz.

“They aren’t all troglings,” said Ralthur.

“Trógling,” said Kaz. “Are humans too stupid to hear the difference between ‘o’ and ‘ó’ or something?”

Ralthur spluttered.

“Most of them? Yes,” said Harkon. “Or, rather, don’t care. Be fair, Kaz; a lot of Toróg traders have rather thick accents.”

“Oh, fair point, I suppose,” said Kaz. “I don’t expect humans to get the thirteen different nuances on the letter ‘o’, with or without a lengthening diacritic, because you don’t have darksense to read how the tongue and teeth are held.” 

“And I thought I knew darktongue pretty well,” said Polia. “What are you going to do about the other slaves?”

“Tell Ralthur’s that I came with the inquisitor, and permit any he brought to assume I came with the house,” said Kaz.

“Could work,” said Harkon.

“Should work; slaves do not, on the whole, question things,” said Kaz.

 

Kaz slipped back into the governatorial residence through the entrance to the sewers they had opened to rescue Ralthur. She was dressed in a simple tunic of rough cloth, like most slaves, her hair uneven and short, and a single earring showing the sigil of the house of Kron. She had questioned Ralthur carefully on what his slaves wore, and was pleased that he knew that they had a winter and summer uniform, and a sufficiency of tunics to be clean, even if the quality of the cloth was not good.

“I can give respect to a man who notices his slaves and cares enough for their welfare to be sure they are appropriately clad,” she told him. She had compromised, as he doubted that his cousin would notice save to be disgusted by a dirty slave. His household comptroller probably saw to outfitting slaves.

She slid up out of the cellar, carrying a bottle of wine. The vintage was sufficient that any discerning man would consider sampling it, even if it had not been sent for. A towel over one arm, and a goblet on a tray with the bottle, she informed the resident kitchen slaves that his excellency needed his wine now.

“He has guests,” said the human cook. “The commandant of the garrison, and the high priestess of Selen.”

“I take more goblets,” said Kaz, in the rough, simplistic speech style of most trógling.

 

 

“I did not ring for wine,” said Lazar Kron, sharply.

Kaz managed to cringe. She dropped into the flat-footed squat with face turned down which was the submissive position of trógling to their masters.

“Is standing orders,” she said.

“Oh? Very well then,” said the Inquisitor. He went on, ignoring Kaz, and speaking to his guests, “I have made the proclamation that the hostages will be crucified at noon tomorrow, but I want the crosses in place by dawn, so if there is any trouble, we can begin early.”

“As you order, my lord,” said Clodus Mils, the garrison commandant, taking the wine from Kaz. “The hostages are a noisy bunch, but they were subdued enough when confined in the arena near the wild animals.”

“Good,” said Kron. “My lady, have you anything more to add?”

“Not substantial, your excellency, but I suspect there will be a rescue attempt.”

“They will find it hard, not knowing where they are being held,” sneered Kron. “But if they attack the garrison, they will be cut to shreds, and we will crucify the townsfolk anyway, to show we mean business.Mils has dug pit traps by the main gates, with stakes set within them; the defenders will permit them to overcome the gate guard, and rush in, and the ground beneath their feet will give way and the front-runners will be slaughtered.”

“I have doubled the guards on the arena,” said Mils. “And the hostages are kept in half a dozen separate cages. Opening one would be hard, opening all would be impossible, and moreover, there is an area where wolves for the arena are being kept through which any rescuers would have to pass.”

He accepted a refill from Kaz.

“I will be sure to pray for our Lady of the Night’s blessing,” said the priestess, Allenna Dren.

Kaz left with her tray, the guests declining more than a single goblet full by replacing their goblets on the tray. Unhurriedly, she left the used goblets in the kitchen, and drifted down to the cellar, and away through the wall. She was massively magically powerful for a trógling, and had no hesitation in using as many cantrips as were needed. Other trógling would not suspect one of their kind throwing magic around with such apparent profligacy.

 

Her friends eagerly awaited her report.

“The wolves in the arena will follow other wolves,” said Vulk.

“So I hoped,” said Kaz. “It won’t be easy, but it won’t be impossible.”