Death's Knight 13

 with luck, that's over - it took all day for him to fit the heater after he arrived, very stressful but now! hot water. We've had constant crap since October 2025 when we got the massive water bill and it was a leak; the water company were fast and fantastic, so was the insurance company, and the repair people but!!!! it took until the end of January this year to persuade the council to give permission to dig up a two foot square of pavement without needing to close two roads and bring in traffic lights. Ongoing also through this was the need for a part for the car, which had to come from Volvo and which they hung us about over, until they said, oh, we can't be bothered to import such a small but vital thing. Our local garage then sourced what was needful on ebay in one day. And then there was the gas people digging up the road with all that noise for days on end - a good thing to replace the gas pipes, but disruptive, and what caused our original reliable little water heater to break down, from the gas being off. And I am grateful to them for trying to repair it, and replacing it when that was impossible, but oh! it has taken such a while. Oh, and just as they finished digging up the road, the Borough Council dug up the road to put four e-vehicle charging bays in.  In a blue-collar neighbourhood which doesn't have the sort of housing which even has parking on the residents' properties and has to rely on on-street parking. 

Well, I feel better for a good moan; please pray that all the little straws on our back have gone. I'm not sure I can survive another stress situation. 

Chapter 13

 

The journey back to the city was uneventful, save the last part when the party disembarked, which proved to be a mile of hastily erected palisades, manned by city guards.

“What, are they trying to besiege us?” said Harkon.

“Trying,” said a Pollonis initiate laconically. “As we have a palisade all the way to the lake each side, they can’t stop us getting supplies, which makes a mockery of a siege.”

“Time for some sport,” said Kaz, happily. “Rynn, are you up for slipping out of the city at night and tying a pretty hair ribbon in the hair of every commander?”

Rynn sniggered.

“But the risk!” said Phaedros.

“That’s the sport of it,” said Rynn. “And to show them it could have been a knife in their throats.”

“Is it too subtle?” asked Kaz. “Should we leave little knives by their pillows?”

“Hair ribbons are funnier,” said Rynn. “Zon would have loved it.”

“He’s sniggering,” said Kaz, able to hear the response of the dead trógling who was her familiar spirit. “And of course, blue hair ribbons, for the Blue Moon.”

 

Two shadows left a culvert shortly after midnight, removing the bars at its exit which slipped back into place without showing that they were held with a bolt on the inside of the grille. In absolute silence the two shadows slid into the Selenite camp, the command tents obvious for being larger and more ornate than those occupied by the soldiery.

Lights were still shining in some of the command tents; apparently from the number of shadows cast on the walls of one, there was some kind of executive meeting. Kaz and Rynn were not about to miss an opportunity like this and slid up to the skirts of the tent.

Kaz stiffened at the first words she heard.

“... Haven’t been able to get any sense out of that blasted Darkling female about why she is here. She still claims trading, and she ate the trógling which said she was on some sort of mission for her goddess.”

“I hope you separated them to question separately,” said the voice of Lazar Kron.  “They are weak creatures and will soon break under torture, even if this Haara female holds out.”

Kaz held a rapid conversation with Rynn with hand gestures.

Putting ribbons in hairs became a secondary mission now; rescue was needed.

 

The high pitched scream of a trógling voice galvanised the two trógling women, and they homed in on the direction with their sensitive ears, making a cautious way to the tent from which it issued, inside the Selenite camp lines, with hastily erected barricades and ditches but at the edge. Kaz made a couple of hand signals, directing Rynn to follow her round to the back of the tent where the prisoners were held, a sensible precaution as there were a squad of ten Selenite soldiers outside, alert and ready. There was a deeper groan of a Darkling voice, plainly trying not to show pain.

Kaz and Rynn had been practising their use of darksense to send short and longer ultrasonic pings which they were developing into a code to communicate above the hearing of humans, and Kaz used the pattern used by slave masters in calling to trógling slaves using whistles, ‘get ready, get ready.’ It was a risk that the trógling within would not give it away, or any Greater Toróg slaves she had, like the one Kaz had slain in the challenge over Rynn.

There were a number of inarticulate pings returned. Message received and understood.

Kaz risked easing out a tent peg to cautiously peer into the large, circular tent. To one side was a wooden construction, a frame with supporting beams at an angle behind it to hold it up and pegs along the top. The half dozen trógling hung from these pegs like discarded clothes, hands lashed together to casually hang them from, and were in various states of wounded. The Darkling merchant was stretched out with her feet on the floor, but spread, tied to pegs, as the Selenite torturer began cutting off one of her lower breasts. Hraazaz was plainly of high status as she had four breasts, and her hair, currently matted with blood, was a pale blue. She held priestly glyphs, Kaz was aware that she could now sense this, and could ask to take the risk of entering a stone womb to emerge as a Greater Toróg, which would either elevate her to the original form of her people, or kill her; and the greater number of Greater Toróg features she had, the better the chance of change. 

The tent was well-lit by lanterns, a disadvantage to the Toróg and tróglings. Indeed, a lantern was set to shine directly into the eyes of the Darkling, whose eyelids were taped open, and were bloodshot.

Kaz slid back.

If she brought the tent down, it would alert the guards outside.

If she fought the guards outside, it would alert the whole camp.

Inside, there was a torturer and a scribe, taking down anything that was said, presumably either using a translation spell, or knowledgeable of the Toróg language, in either case probably a high-ranking initiate or glyph-priest of Librax, the Selenite counterpart to Polos.

The torturer was taking no notice of the scribe, and Kaz moved round the tent to be behind the Libraxian. Her knife made a quick slit in the tent, and the next thing the scribe knew was that he had a knife at his throat. Silently Rynn followed Kaz in, and made short work of tying up the scribe’s hands with some of the blue ribbon they had brought, and equally tying his feet to the desk on which he worked. He would have a hard time struggling out of the tent to rouse the alarm. His own kerchief made a gag.

Kaz moved forward.

“How about picking on someone armed, you bloodmoon bastard?” said Kaz.

The torturer whirled round, saw a trógling, and laughed.

Kaz had only her knife; she had no intention of letting the scribe speak of her sword of light. It was an ace in the hole to be preserved for as long as possible as a secret. The torturer advanced on Kaz, grinning. “I don’t know how you got away when we took your mistress, but you’re about to be gutted,” he said.

“Your profession is vile; I’m going to kill you,” said Kaz.

Perhaps it was that the light in the tent shining on her heavy knife added a golden sheen to it, that the torturer did not immediately recognise it as iron; or perhaps he just dismissed the idea that a trógling might wield an iron blade. Whichever the reason, he did not react to her weaponry, and swung at her with the vicious knife he had been using to carve off Hraazaz’s breasts. Kaz swayed effortlessly out of the way, feinted, and as he attacked again, parried.

His blade, sharp but brittle, shattered.

He grabbed another knife and came at her, but Kaz ducked, swayed, and came up under his attack to slit open his belly.

He screamed, and Kaz muttered an imprecation. She had planned to run her knife up under the ribcage and into his heart, but she was less practised with a knife than with a sword. Rynn leaped to the door of the tent, grabbing some sickle-shaped knife which she knelt to hold at ankle height in case of soldiery running in. 

There appeared to be no interest from outside; the torturer’s scream had been sufficiently high pitched that the guards ignored it.

Kaz finished him off and went over to Hraazaz.

“Your presence... is timely... Kaz of Alethos,” said Hraazaz. “But I fear, not timely enough... unless your healing is as formidable... as your fighting. I... I have lost too much blood.”

She was badly wounded in many places. Kaz pulled the tape from her eyelids, allowing them to droop.

“Cut down the trógling, Rynn, and put out some of the lanterns,” said Kaz. “Alethos! Is she close to death?”

“Yes, my love, her spirit is close to the Hall of Waiting,” the god’s voice spoke in her mind.

“Hraazaz, you are a priestess?”

“Yes...”

“Alethos, please get Rogaz in line with this....”

“What are you up to?”

“Sweet Moon, blue light, gift your daughter growth this night.

Thou Rogaz, Luna Blue, gift your daughter with growth true,”

Hraazaz’s eyelids flickered.

“You know the ritual....”

Kaz was using the digging cantrip frantically, and excavated a hole deep enough for Hraazaz’s body, cut her down, and eased her into it, casting healing spells as she did so, putting the Darkling’s breast back on to seal it back down.

“It’s not rock, but it’s what I have,” she said, using a cantrip to solidify earth into a dome above Hraazaz, a thin enough layer that it was like a muddy crystal, and showed that blue light burst out of Hraazaz’s body.  Hraazaz screamed. Kaz turned her attention to healing the trógling.

“Scream a lot, you six, and pray silently to Rogaz for your mistress,” said Kaz. “Rogaz, I implore you, accept their worship, and give them initiation for their love for Hraazaz.”

 

“Your trógling has a cheek! She is not even one of mine, yet she calls on me with my ritual!” cried Rogaz-Luna. “And demands I initiate trógling!”

“She isn’t one of yours but she is trying to save one of yours, and she has my support and I will loan her and you power for this one is surely long prophesied by your people?” said Alethos.

“‘Born lesser, only the least will drag her from the Red Moon to become one with the Blue,

Born again from earth not stone to rise as heroine anew,’” said Rogaz-Luna sulkily.

“Well, that says it clearly enough,” said Alethos. “I have her spirit in my hands, wavering at the gates but it still has attachment to her body so I’m not going to complain if you rebuild that body.”

“You’re less of an old grouch than I thought you.”

“I oppose the interloper moon and her filthy brother too.”

 

Kaz was glad of her stored power, and that she had grown enough in her spiritual core to be able to channel it, or three of the six would have died. The other three were hurt, but from fighting for their mistress more than from systematic torture. They stood, after healing, and looked at Kaz and Rynn with amazement.

“Rynn? Is that you? Is that not the one who killed Torg to win you?” whispered one.

“Yes, Tan, this is my friend, Kaz,” said Rynn. “She’s going to be goddess of trógling one day, but I think you belong to Rogaz.”

“It’s a bit scary,” said Tan. “We didn’t want to leave Mistress Hraazaz when it was offered, and she has treated us all very well since. The one who betrayed her was a new one, replacing Zon. The one replacing you is loyal as well.”

“She will need it,” said Kaz. “Carry on taking turns to scream and wimper; this could take some time. Rynn, scout outside, I don’t want any surprises.”

Rynn slithered off and Kaz took up vigil over the crystalised earth.

“I’ve heard of the ritual,” said Tan, tentatively.  “Our mistress was considering undertaking it. She planned to do so at the solstice, but she was summoned to come to this place to be here as soon as possible and work with... with you. She was sore about it! And then, the Selenites jumped us in a tavern, and killed Gort and Trurg, her bodyguards, and brought us here and started asking questions about where we were going and why. They had a prophecy, something about beware the daughter of the blue moon.”

“Incoming!” Rynn slithered back into the tent. “It’s Lazar Kron himself!”

“A valuable hostage,” said Kaz. “We’ll take him alive. Tan, there’s some rope here, hold it taut with Rynn to trip him.”

 

Lazar Kron strode into the torture tent, and measured his length on the cold ground, biting his tongue as his chin hit the earth. A knife filled his vision.

He looked up past it.

“You!” he said.

“I wouldn’t say any more if I was you,” said Kaz, quietly. Lazar Kron opened his mouth and managed a strangled ‘Guards!’ before Kaz hit him scientifically on the temple with her knife’s haft.

Kaz drew the hilt of her light-sword.

There was some discussion outside the tent over whether the inquisitor had called or not. Interrupting him when he did not want them would not be popular.

“Skyrock, cloak, sword,” said someone. This was a Selenite game for choosing when one made a fist for skyrock, a flat hand for cloak, or a curved shape for the Selenite curved sword. Skyrock broke sword, sword cut cloak, and cloak wrapped skyrock, in memorial of the spell invented by the Selenite cult heroine, Thea Drex, whose cloak floated like a roof and was hardened to protect those under it from rocks summoned from the sky by one of her companions, sheltering those who were faithful. Two were quickly chosen, and came cautiously into the tent. Tan and Rynn tripped them up and Kaz hit them on the heads while they were still stunned. Rynn organised the tróglimg into pairs to listen and man the trip-wire, whilst Kaz tied up and gagged Lazar Kron and his guards.

“This wasn’t necessarily the best place and time to do the rebirth ritual,” said Rynn.

“She was dying; without help from her own goddess, I didn’t think I could save her,” said Kaz. “And I had a feeling that a direct touch from Rogaz would push her over the brink into rebith, anyway. The weight of the touch of gods is considerable; and Rogaz, even maimed, is a major goddess.”

 

“Your tool is not perhaps as foolish as I thought her,” admitted Rogaz.

“My beloved is shrewd and instinctive,” said Alethos. “How is it going? I would like them away from there before daylight.”

“It normally takes a full day round.”

“I do not like to intervene directly to lift them out.”

“I will gift my new initiates with the spells of earthwalking, and remove my daughter; let your children leave by such means as they may.”

 

Alethos relayed this to Kaz, who sniggered.

“We’ll wait for Rogaz.... somewhere near the river would be good. And we’ll use that false runic circle again, around the hollow that is likely to be left. As soon as I’ve knocked out the Libraxian. . I think I recognise him; I think he’s Quirinus Lex, who used to work for Ralthur Kron and is a spy, but it’s not an excuse to kill him.”

 

Shortly after, the glowing  crystal sank into the ground, and Rynn patted Tan on the back as he led his fellow slaves after it. Kaz drew the convincing runic circle on the ground and slid out at the back of the tent, leaving two unconscious guards, an unconscious scribe, and a dead torturer. Lazar Kron floated stiffly on a stretcher spell, and Kaz sent Rynn up the downpipe with him, a strip of cloth over his eyes in case he was feigning unconsciousness, and went in search of the rebirth crystal.

 

 

 

death's knight 12

 so, the gas man cometh allegedly today. 

Chapter 12

 

“What do you want, Death?” asked Rogaz, the injured Toróg mother goddess, her six breasts torn and dripping everlasting pus from where she had been ripped from the Blue Moon by the Wolf of chaos.

“Much what you want,” said Alethos. “The death of the Red Moon and the Trickster, and the breaking of the trógling curse.”

“Many of my brightest and best already lost their lives trying to break that, and came up only with the Greater Toróg,” snapped Rogaz.

“Because they tried to perform a flawed ritual,” said Alethos. “One of mine is named the Daykaz, and is the child of prophesy. By research, her ritual to begin the end of the reign of chaos, she needs a priestess of Darkness.”

“And what do you mean by the beginning of the end?”

“You won’t like it, but I assure you it is necessary as circles must be completed in order to proceed in straight lines.”

“Don’t speak in riddles.”

“My tool is a trógling and she has to go back in time to give the trickster the idea of trógling.”

“What? Are you insane? Why should I help to produce those abominations?”

“Because believe me, if the Trickster doesn’t get the idea of Trógling, it’s likely that he would come up with something worse,” said Alethos. “My mother is Fate; trust me on this one. And my... my beloved wants to separate Trógling from Toróg and restore your fertility, and make things right.”

“Why?”

“Because she cares about her own kind and she doesn’t think she would have co-operation from you without a gift for a gift.”

“And how does making the Trógling curse come about  help my people’s fertility?”

“It’s the start of taking down Chaos,” said Alethos, patiently. “Kaz has to make sure she is born in order to have the worship of the free trógling, and deny them to the Trickster because that’s who gets every trógling and their power when they die which is why your priestesses could not break the curse.”

“What? You mean....”

“I mean that he created them, so they are by default his worshippers, without even knowing it. You could have alleviated it by letting the best of them become initiates, but you did not; so it becomes my beloved’s problem. She and our other heroes will kill the Trickster and Selen but things have to happen in order. And if she does not return in time to do this, the point will be reached when no live births of even Darklings will occur, and your people will die out.”

“And you want one of mine. I cannot think any High Toróg priestesses will find herself able to demean herself so much.”

“Kaz has identified a Darkling merchant, one Hraazaz Wealthbringer as a possible hero of yours,” said Alethos.

There was a long silence.

“I will instruct Hraazaz to come to the place you specify,” said Rogaz.

 

“Thyella, stop casting looks like a dying dog in a gutter at Harkon, and go and speak to him,” said Kaz, in irritation, after they had set off to return.  “Try holding his hand, or kissing him. But you’d better mean it, because if you change your mind and break his heart, I will be so angry with you that I will use you to practise godslaying.”

“But you already have a beloved, why should you care?” pouted Thyella.

“Because I love Harkon as a brother, as a commander, as a friend,” said Kaz. “We all do. If you are going to be our sister, we shall love you too, but if you can’t manage to change that much, either leave now and never return, or risk having your duties taken by those of us who care more about Harkon than about any windy sorts of gods whose demands and pronouncements are like the farting of goats.”

“You can be truly offensive,” sulked Thyella.

“Thank you,” said Kaz.  “We’re halting here. Leave the camp to me and just go and kiss him.”

 

Thyella went up to Harkon, and kissed him on the cheek.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“Are you trying to be funny?” asked Harkon.

She looked confused.

“No; the Daykaz told me to kiss you,” she said.

“I’ve got no time for being trifled with,” growled Harkon. “If you want me to be a man in your life, be a woman, otherwise don’t waste my time.”

“I don’t want to waste your time; and by the way, I could get us back to your base far quicker in a thunderbolt, so I don’t understand what you mean by wasting time, you’re the one insisting on walking.”

“We’re mortal. It’s the way we do things. And sometimes walking means we encounter things Fate wants us to encounter, to hear things she wants us to hear, to be seen by people she wants to see us. Zipping around in thunderbolts destroys all that rich experience of life and possibly destroys clues we are supposed to follow. Now do you want a kiss or don’t you? I don’t appreciate being teased by a poor excuse for kissing like that. I have an iron will, but no man is made completely of iron and you are cruel to flaunt yourself, and mess about with a man’s feelings without giving him at least something worth dreaming about, even if you do decide to remain the Celestial Virgin.”

“But what else am I suppose to do?”

Harkon looked into the stormy blue eyes full of perplexity and confusion, and jerked Thyella into his arms, and kissed her with an intensity which almost frightened the goddess into disappearing in a thunderbolt; but she was aware that would burn Harkon, and suddenly she realised that she was enjoying his lips on hers, and relaxed against him.

Harkon deepened the kiss and buried his hand in her hair; she was burying her hand in his and clinging to his waist with the other hand. He lifted his head and she made a sound of disappointment.

“I can step away here,” said Harkon, “But if you want more, be sure you really want more.”

“I... I want more,” said Thyella.

Kaz passed Harkon a quilt.

“There’s a nice little spinney over there; go and sort her out,” she said.

“Yes, mother,” said Harkon.

“That’s going to stick,” said Kaz, with a sigh. She organised the rest of their band into setting up camp whilst their nominal leader sorted out the volatile goddess, trying to ignore the lightning crackling about the sky and the somehow approving-sounding rumbles of thunder.

“Well, I’ve heard of noisy love-making, but not usually that noisy,” said Protasion.

“What are they doing?” asked Phaedros.

“He’s too young,” said Kaz. “It has to do with sexuality, and the fact that it is supposed to be enjoyable.”

“But she’s the celestial virgin!” said Phaedros.

It suddenly started raining.

There was also a loud chime.

“Not any more,” said Kaz.

 

Harkon and Thyella emerged with the quilt over their heads, partly clad. Kaz pointed to Harkon’s tent, and they disappeared inside it.

“Maybe we should point them at the Drylands,” sniggered Svargia.

“It’s one way of curing the world when we get rid of chaos,” said Kaz. They had set up the male and female tent end to end, and Svargia added a tarpaulin between them to be able to sit out the rainstorm together. The smell of wet wolf was not pleasant, but nobody would ask the wolves to stay out in the wet.

“I expect she’ll learn to control the weather effects when she’s more used to it,” said Lelyn, pacifically.

“I certainly hope so,” said Kaz. “Well, that appears to be over for now, so I shall go start a cookfire.”

 

Harkon and Thyella emerged for the meal, both somewhat bemused.

“Did I hear a chime of fate?” said Harkon.

“Well, if you missed it, you must have been very much distracted,” said Protasion.  “Congratulations, my lady; you have been granted the boon of fate of... well, apart from having gained the sort of lover most women would kill for, the ability to grow and learn, and be somewhere at the forefront of the gods when all this is over.”

“I let my father know with a more moderate message than he might get from some of the jealous cats who abound in the Celestial Court,” said Phaedros. “And I’m going to use my authority as his son and temple to declare you man and wife before we get any interference.” A golden ribbon of light wrapped around Harkon and Thyella, sparkling as it touched them.

“I hadn’t asked her if she wanted to commit to marriage,” said Harkon, mildly.

“Trust me, you want to be married when this hits,” said Phaedros, as the sky went black, and a gale whipped around those present.

“Oh, really, that is too dramatic,” said Kaz, irritably, as the fire coughed smoke.

“WHO HAS VIOLATED MY SISTER?” the wind coalesced into two figures.

“My DAUGHTER?” echoed the second.

“Really, Daddy, Ombros, I’m quite old enough to decide to get married,” said Thyella, sitting on Harkon’s lap, where he had sat on a log arranged around the fire.

“It’s prophesied; you can’t do a thing about it,” said Protasion,

“I will obliterate....” started Ombros.

“You’ll go through all of us and destroy the universe if you do,” said Kaz, getting up, joined by the others, standing in front of Harkon and Thyella. Harkon gently set Thyella down and strode to the front.

“She has the right to make her own choices,” he said.

“Who are you mortals who dare stand against gods?” demanded Thyella’s father. “Do you not know who I am? I am Anemois, Lord of Winds!”

“And did not my mother, Nevra, Lady of Rains, give her blessing upon our union?” snapped Thyella. “Grow up, Ombros! Let it go, daddy! This has been fortold, and we are married under the law of Solos by my cousin, Phaedros. This is the Daykaz, beloved of Alethos, and her entourage. And you know how well you handle Alethos.”

“Her choice. Not yours,” said Kaz. “And you have put my fire out, you great bully.”

A beautiful woman in a garment which was not green, or blue, or silver, but yet somehow all of them at once, with silver hair, gently materialised in a shower of rain.

“Congratulation, my daughter, you have set aside the chains of convention to embrace your destiny,” she said, kissing Thyella on the forehead, and giving Harkon a rather damp embrace. She turned to Kaz. “Thank you for helping her to her future,” she said, embracing Kaz as well, in a clammy sort of way. Kaz embraced her back.

“Fate is satisfied,” she said.

“Those of us who were listening heard the chime,” said Nevra. “Come, my husband, my son! Thyella and her husband have better things to do than to entertain us!”

“But...” said Ombros. “My sister is supposed to be the Celestial Virgin!”

“No, she was supposed to keep herself for her fate-chosen husband,” said Nevra. “Both are rewarded for helping to deliver up the god of strife spawned by the trickster. Let us depart.”

And in a damp whirlwind and a few growls of thunder, the oppressive presence of the gods departed, the black clouds broke up and dissipated, and the last of the light of the evening came from clear skies.

“When the night-born chooses the light of truth and death, look ye for the portents. It will begin with the Healing of the Wound of Shame and will tie the Beloved to Death. Look for those who were bound to be freed, those who suffer to be liberated, those despised to be loved, and look then for the terrible vengeance of the Wronged on those who will bring disaster on us all. Those of the gods who are able will gain power when the judge of the three fools brings wisdom, and she who embraces his wisdom will gain in many ways.” Quoted Protasion. “Healing Alethos. Rescuing trógling.  She who embraces the wisdom of the judge. It’s pretty clear. And those gods who learn from it will continue to grow; those who do not, will be those who are diminished by the wars to come.”

“My brother isn’t going to survive it, is he?” said Thyella, tears in her eyes.

Protasion looked down.

“I don’t want to second guess an old prophesy...”

“I would rather know,” said Thyella.

Protasion sighed.

“It’s one of those we found today, and it refers to the madness of the wind gods and their healing by the healing trio – Alethos and his sisters – but...” he quoted. “Those who hold the seasons in their grip will be tried twice, once in the maelstrom where they might be given succour and once again when the endgame is in motion against those powers of the void when the hooves of the Skyhorse shall fall to the bloody wolf. He shall be avenged by the Bride of Storms and his powers assumed by her and her beloved.”

Thyella paled.

“That is clear enough,” she said. “Some call Ombros the Skyhorse, because thunder sounds like galloping horses. And... and he would do something like that. So... Harkon and I will avenge him and take his place as primary storm gods?”

“That was how I read it,” said Protasion.

“Oh!” cried Thyella. “Can nothing avert this?”

“Yes,” said Protasion. “Because if he can be ready to adapt and change, then he cand be one of those who embrace wisdom.  There’s another, more obscure one, ‘If the horse abjures poetry and concentrates on planning, he will grow and overcome.’ Which I took to mean leaving off advising his followers to dive in head first against chaos, but to make a more rational plan.”

Thyella sighed, and tears flowed, crackling down her face. Harkon put his arms around her.

“My brother is incapable of thinking before he acts,” she said. “Harkon, forgive me; but I have to go to him and tell him these prophesies, and try to get him to change.”

Harkon kissed her, tenderly.

“Of course, my love,” he said. “I will be waiting for you when you need me; and I understand, too, that if you are going to lose him, you will want to spend time with him.”

He was hugged, hard.

“You understand,” said Thyella, and stepped away to leap off in a crack of thunder.

“I don’t want to be a god of storms,” said Harkon.

“Then hope she can talk sense into her brother,” said Protasion.  “Or bring some of the discipline of our Lord Alethos to the way you run storms.”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” grumbled Harkon. “Kaz, can you sort out my bed roll? It’s sort of damp. And you’re best at laundry cantrips.”

“Of course,” said Kaz.

It was what Harkon had not said, that he wanted comforting daily ritual, not prophesy.

“There was another bit of that first prophecy,” said Kaz.

“‘She who weeps in the dark will find freedom forever if the brave can break the curse that holds her,’”  said Protasion. “I read that as rescuing Mycota from Tor.”

“Fate doesn’t want much,” said Kaz, humorously.

 

Death's knight 11

 

Chapter 11

 

“Well, we’re on the roof,” said Kaz. “We have to assume undead below us, because they would consider the temple of Solos to be the best place to defile. And I don’t know about you, but waiting about until it’s dark seems an incredibly bad idea to me; but it’ll take us until then to get this roof off.”

“If you can get enough tiles off for me to see in, I have the ability to flood the whole area with sunlight,” said Phaedros.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Rynn. “Let’s shift some tiles and let Phaedros make like a glow-worm.”

“It’s not...” said Phaedros, and shut up. “You’re teasing me.”

“Of course I am,” said Rynn. “And I didn’t even get as far as your bottom glowing.”

“Leave it, Rynn,” said Kaz.

“I don’t really mind,” said Phaedros. “It isn’t meant maliciously.”

“Oh, well, if you can tell that, you are coming on very well,” said Kaz.

“Make it big enough for us to get a ladder down,” said Hakon.

“Rope,” said Kaz. “It’s quicker to go down a rope.”

There was a sudden flash and crack of thunder, and with a smell of Ozone, Thyella was back.

“You haven’t got much further,” she said, critically.

“For one thing, we’re only mortal, for another, you scared away most of our workers, and for another, you stole one of our spades,” said Harkon. “You’re a nuisance; go away and stay away.”

Thyella started sobbing, and thunder rolled around the sky.

“I... I only wanted to make amends for ch-cheating and behaving badly, by h... h... helping you, Harkon!” she cried. “I could make short work of this to help by putting a thunderbolt right through it...”

“No!” barked Harkon, as she raised her hand. “Are you insane? I have people on that roof, and you’ll kill them if it all caves in, which with the weight of the earth on it, it might well do, if you make a hole violently. Honestly, you have no more sense than a kitten!”

“You people aren’t very impressed by gods, are you?” said Thyella.

“We’re planning to kill several; it doesn’t exactly improve our ability to believe we can do it to get impressed,” said Kaz. “What do you really want, Thyella? You aren’t trying to help really because all you do is cause trouble.”

“But I don’t want to cause trouble! I want to help! I... I want Harkon to realise that I’m not a cheater, that I wouldn’t have tried to offer him something if I hadn’t realised the other two were going to do so, and... and I didn’t want them to steal a march on me, because they’re the pretty ones, and I want Harkon to notice me as a woman!”

“Oh!” said Kaz.

“‘Those of the gods who are able will gain power when the judge of the three fools brings wisdom, and she who embraces his wisdom will gain in many ways.’” quoted Protasion. “But you can’t have it both ways, Thyella; to want him to notice you and then carp when he touches you, even if it was a rough touch to stop you doing something foolish.”

“I... I am the Celestial Virgin,” said Thyella, rather uncertainly.

“Well, that’s your choice,” said Kaz.  “But if you want a man to notice you, and then not follow through to fulfil the desire you arouse in him, do you think that’s fair? Harkon has already sworn that he will find it impossible to find another woman to whom he is as attracted as to you, so you have already disrupted his life, and taken away his chance of a happy marriage, fatherhood, and so on. Playing with his affections and then getting bored, especially if you let him touch you at all, is about the most dishonourable thing there is, especially if you decide you don’t like it and go and whine to your celestial grandfather about it.”

“Whine?” whined Thyella.

“Whine,” said Kaz.  “If you want him to court you, then expect the consequences between a man and a woman if you enjoy his courtship, and if you do not want that, do not play games and tease him.”

“I... Zeandine and Secalia say I am the Celestial Virgin as no man would want me,” said Thyella.

“Yes, well, we saw what they were like,” said Harkon, who had been trying to stay out of things.

“I want you to court me!” said Thyella, the lightning-bolt tears crackling down her face. “I am a woman and I want love!”

“You can’t get love by demanding it,” said Kaz, with patience heavy in her voice. “You are very good at ‘I want,’ Thyella, but you will only be loved if you are loveable, and that means more giving than demanding, it means being a friend as well as someone desirable, and about learning what your man likes more than demanding what you like from him. And if you have any sense you will both discuss what you like and what you don’t but in private. Now, by all means do your best to show Harkon that you want to know him better, but do it on your own time, not when we are racing the sun to get into that temple and kill undead.”

“You are the beloved of Alethos, who’s stern and stuffy and doesn’t seem very lovable, so I suppose you know what you are talking about,” said Thyella.

“If you don’t find Alethos lovable, you’ll find it hard with Harkon, who is a reflection of his god,” said Kaz, dryly. “And I think Alethos is adorable.”

“Harkon has a sense of humour,” said Thyella.

“So does Alethos,” said Kaz. “He just hides it.”

“Thyella, you are beautiful; but duty first,” said Harkon.

“I... yes, of course,” said Thyella. She joined in helping to dig to reveal roof tiles.

“Right,” said Harkon, as they revealed an area of roof. “Time to get those off as fast as possible.”

“I could punch a fairly limited hole through,” said Thyella.

Harkon considered.

“Do you see how the tiles go up and down a bit?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Thyella.

“Where they have sagged slightly, that’s between the great beams that hold up the dome,” said Hakon. “If you can aim between beams, it means the structure of the roof is not damaged, so it can be more easily repaired.”

“You know a lot, Harkon,” said Thyella. “I thought roofs held up with prayer.”

“No,” said Harkon. “Roofs hold up with someone designing how to hold them up.”

“I’ve learned something then,” said Thyella, hopefully. “Does that show me ready to change and adapt?”

“It’s a start,” said Harkon.

“Stand back,” said Thyella.

They stood back, and with a crackle and a loud CRACK! A thunderbolt pierced the roof, leaving a hole plenty big enough to get through, but not large enough to cause damage.

“Nice!” said Kaz. “Your turn, Phaedros; glow for us.”

Phaedros moved towards the hole and was diverted by Rynn to walk on a beam, and lay down, holding his hands into the hole. His hands started to glow, and there were cries and shrieks from within the temple. Two ropes snaked down, thrown by Harkon and Kaz,and secured to the central spike,  and they both took a leather strap to wrap around the rope, using their boots to control their descent using the strap to slide down.  The others followed similarly.

A number of skeletons and zombies had turned to dust in the pure sunlight glow from the demigod’s hands, but the living initiates were unharmed, and the cloaked figure dodging through a doorway also seemed to have avoided damage. Kaz swiftly cast a folding cantrip at the bloodsucker’s cloak; it should delay him. There was a cry of confusion, and Harkon advanced with his flaming sword. Kaz went in search of the spirit bound to be the heart of the temple, knowing that it would be a Selenite spirit, because the bloodsucker and his minions would scarcely be able to remain if a spirit dedicated to Solos was still there. Protasion took up guard of her back, as Lelyn, Evgon, Kuros, Svargia, Rynn, Vulk, and Polia swarmed down the ropes. The two lay trógling remained at the top, guarding the ropes.

A door into the temple crashed open, with reinforcements, and the blinding flash that was Phaedros swooped down to snatch Rynn from the sudden onslaught of newcomers.

“I owe you,” said Rynn, shaken, but quickly taking up her spear which she favoured over sword, standing at the side of the glowing demigod.

“I am glad I was there,” said Phaedros.

There were a number of zombies which appeared to be armed with farm implements. They smelled of earth more than of decay, but crumbled in the sunlight emanating from Phaedros. Thyella came down.

“Let me,” she said, tossing a thunderbolt into the passage from which the reinforcements had come. There were screams.

Harkon, meanwhile, had been wrestling directly with the bloodsucker, casting the glyph magic to directly cut its spirit from where it had been bound back into its body. It was the first time he had used the spell, but he knew this was what Alethos meant him to use it for. Kaz and Protasion had found a skull, which was black with sacrificial blood. Kaz activated her sword of light, and the spirit began shrieking before she even clove the skull in half. The spirit attacked Protasion, rather than the warrior with the terrible sword of light, and Kaz willed the blade to be short, to stab at it, without hurting her friend. Protasion had learned the cantrip wring and cast it on the spirit. The spirit Toval helped out and the guardian was rapidly subdued. Kaz turned the Undeath glyph inside out and absorbed it. The battle seemed to go faster than their previous experience with undead.

“We’re starting to learn how to deal with them, I suppose,” said Kaz, as they all reconvened below the hole in the roof.

“Others came through a tunnel,” said Rynn. “Phaedros saved me; they came right in behind us.”

“We have several hours of daylight; we should follow the tunnel,” said Harkon. “We don’t want surprises.”

“Some of us should follow the tunnel,” said Kaz. “Phaedros is looking ill. You aren’t used to glowing so long, are you?”

“No,” admitted Phaedros.

“I’ll stay with him,” said Rynn. “Someone ought to.”

“Agreed,” said Harkon. “Another volunteer?”

“I’ll stay,” said Evgon.

 

The tunnel had been shored up and driven through the ruins, in a mostly straight line, and into the mountain; where it rapidly opened into a large cave, whose roof had fallen in at some point to reveal a hidden area of cultivation, with some rude huts built of stone.

“The zombies tended the crops overnight,” said Kaz. “That’s why they had farm implements.  Look, a crescent shaped building, a temple to Selen. But this is a community, there are children; we can hardly fall on them and kill them.”

“This is not our problem,” said Harkon. “They have crops and animals. They can survive, and we will have to send others to teach them better ways, Removing them by force will not answer, and whilst I want to tear down their temple, it will make them fight and I don’t think we can fight without harming them.”

“I will bring some of my battle maidens,” said Thyella.

“Fine; but we will withdraw before we are noticed, and  bring down some of the tunnel, to block them in for now,” said Harkon. “We are here specifically to find books and scrolls about the overarching mission of getting Kaz to the right place and time.”

 

They withdrew successfully.

“My job, now,” said Kaz. “Keep going; I’m going to turn the ceiling rock into sand. If I release it slowly and then step round this rock, it should gently fill the tunnel. If you hear a roar, run.”

“That isn’t helpful,” said Lelyn.

“Yes it is,” said Kaz. “You’ll know to get out so you can live to see if I survived it. Trust me!”

“I hate it when she says that,” said Protasion.

 

Kaz knew it was a ticklish business, but she had been learning about channelling power, and she connected to the rock with a Toróg rune of sand, and moved backwards as she activated it, very slowly. Then she turned round and ran, as the sand started pouring down, chasing her up the tunnel. She got out of the part which was the side of the valley and relaxed, as that was a different region.

Harkon raised an interrogative eyebrow.

“Assuming the zombies had all the spades, picks, and mattocks, it’ll take them about three years to dig through,” she said.

Lelyn brushed sand out of her friend’s hair, scolding. Kaz grinned, but was glad to sit down with Phaedros and rest.

Protasion headed for the library, and was soon rummaging through texts. Kaz, propped up against a pillar, dozed, and was startled awake by a yell of triumph.

“This is it!” Protasion said, triumphantly. “I had to read through a heap of stupid sounding prophesies from the Sun Seer Scrolls, but I think this is this the one. ‘The dawn will need to pass through time and planes to trick the trickster and close the circle and activate the curse that is not.’”

“Well, that sounds like the usual maunderings a seer manages,” said Kaz.  “Any suggestions on how to do it?”

“Pages of ritual notes, some of which peter out as the seer woke up,” said Protasion. “Fortunately, there are two or three backup prophesies, and someone managed to gather them all together, so I suspect that between them all, they’ll get the whole ritual.”

“If not, I suspect Fate will cheat,” said Kaz. “I have every faith in my future mother-in-law.”

“I found another scroll,” said Thyella.  “It’s from the library of Polos and has some gathered prophesies of storm and wind as well as sun.  I think I might be playing a part in sending the Daykaz through time with the power of lightning to add to light, and I get the impression we need opposed forces – my grandmother as fertility and Alethos for death, Phaedros for light, and a priestess of the Toróg for darkness.”

“That’ll be a challenge,” said Kaz. “At least you think it’s Phaedros, who is reasonable, I can’t see Pollonis or Solos working with one of the Toróg.”

“Alethos’s sister, the goddess of love, represents fertility as part of her aspect, in maternal love,” said Harkon. “We don’t need to trouble the celestial deities.”

“And love and death between them should have enough power for it,” said Kaz. “I think we have what we came for.”

“And now all we need is a Toróg priestess. Not hard at all,” said Protasion, with heavy irony.

“We left one in courtesy, when we stole Rynn,” said Kaz. “The Darkling merchant, Hraazaz Wealthbringer. I will write to her and ask if she will be an instrument of the destruction of the Trógling Curse.”

“She’ll probably tell you to go fish up a tree,” said Lelyn.

“Then we shall have to find another who will be more helpful,” said Kaz.