death's knight 10

 right, we are waiting for the gas engineer to come today, and hopefully end this saga.  Simon had stress dreams all night and I tossed and turned and we confessed to each other we were wondering what was going to go wrong. Not IF something was going to go wrong, but what. so, we shall see what happens, and either I will be a much happier person by midday or completely freaked out. 

 

Chapter 10

 

The way was fairly well established now; the Alethosi supported the community of rescued trógling, and there were a mix of temple staff, an ageing Glyph-priest having been sent to run the temple and help the community, as well as there having been a quiet drive to find younger sons of farmers who wanted to branch out on their own. Adventurers still sought loot and thrills – in that order – in the buried city, but so long as they did not disrupt the settlers, they were treated with courtesy and were welcome to spend their money in the inn run by a pair of enterprising trógling, which they had named ‘Shadow’s Edge.’ Shops were opening, though many goods locally exchanged hands by barter, and manufactured goods were exported.  Kaz smiled, and nodded at the busy settlement; it was now growing spontaneously.

“Tragosti!” hissed Phaedros, reaching for his weapon, on seeing some goat-headed beings.

“What of them? They are peaceful herders,” said Harkon. “We encountered a tribe when we were establishing the trógling here, and Kaz barged in and told them that if they worshipped Alethos, he could rid them of any chaos taint they had, and help them.  They took the choice of having their children be born with more human features; a few have slight horn buds, but the Tragosti see no advantage in retaining the goat-like features wished on their ancestors, and the descent into madness each eventually suffers. They made agreement to retain their own appearance to give their descendants freedom from the curse.”

“I see,” said Phaedros. “I will ask my father to offer the same. It is not as if they are dangerous, like Lycoids, and the horrific diseases they carry, of lycanthropy, hydrophobia, and distemper.”

“Which can be removed by godly intervention,” said Kaz. “The wolf-men of the north joined us; the evening howling spread the word, and the Lycoids came in their hundreds to worship and be freed from the stigma and the diseases. Some chose to be shifters, others preferred to be wolves all the time – like Konisia and Lycaura. Vulk, first and dearest, is a shifter. He is working towards being a cult hero to represent the wolves. Chaos is a horrible wrong which was inflicted on those people and beings who were in the way of the fall of parts of the moon, and some cannot be reasoned with – like the marsh creepers. Others can.”

“I see,” said Phaedros. “I am glad. What of those who will not listen?”

“They must be killed,” said Kaz, with a sigh.

“I see,” said Phaedros. “It will be a long time before the world is cleansed.”

“Yes,” said Kaz. “We may as well eat and settle in for the night; there are wards up for those who occupy this end of the city, but there are dangers in the rest of it, including undead. Another day to allow the blood moon to wane a little more won’t hurt.”

“And we don’t even know where to look for a temple of Solos, Pollonis, or Polos, which would be the most likely temples to hold the knowledge we seek,” said Phaedros.

“Whatever gives you the idea that we don’t know where they are?” said Kaz. “We know exactly where they are – and approximately how much digging will be needed.”

“Digging?”

“Why, yes; the mountains shook and the former city is buried,” said Kaz.

“I knew there would be a catch,” said Phaedros, mournfully.

 

oOoOo

 

Installed in the temple, Kaz got out the maps which had been added to since the first mission.

“The temple of Solos has the least rubble on it, having been built on a hill,” she said. “If we start there, we should be able to get readily to the temples of Pollonis and Polos through internal doors.”

“There should be underground passages, if nothing else,” agreed Phaedros. “Surely no bloodsucker would be impudent enough to settle in Grandfather’s temple?”

“They were impudent enough to settle in Death’s temple,” said Kaz.

“Good point, they’d probably think it a good laugh to mock the gods of light and weather,” said Protasion. “Say, Kaz, you and Rynn and Zon put little markers on the maps, short horizonal parallel lines, and I never asked what that meant.”

“Depth,” said Kaz. “Or in other words, how far down things were. The sun temple’s grand dome is barely buried and the whole temple is on an eminence, basically the dome is only covered in vegetation.”

“If we could clear it, and shine it up, Solos might aid me more in approval,” suggested Phaedros.

“It can’t hurt; and you should be able to channel spells better below it too,” said Kaz.

“I remember reading,” said Protasion, “That once upon a time, the domes of sun temples opened up like petals of a flower.”

“That would be something to see,” said Kaz. “I suggest we all worship and give power to Solos before embarking on entering his temple.”

“It would be polite,” said Lelyn.

“We need to see if we can hire some trógling with knowledge of digging cantrips,” said Kaz. “I want to go up and just overlook the city again, if you’ll fix a line again, Kuros. I want to see if we need to go down on it from above, or if there is a way through from the temple here.”

“I’d be inclined to go down from above in any case, so we can open the roof on any bloodsuckers and their tools,” said Protasion. “If we could rig a line to the top spire and make a rough rope bridge it would make things easier.”

“Perchance I might ease that burden, for I can fly,” said Phaedros.

“Good man! You’re backsliding into archaic speech though,” said Protasion. “Trógling won’t much like a rope bridge.”

“Toróg use them to bridge chasms,” said Kaz.

“I hate them,” said Rynn, “But not as much as I hate bloodsuckers.”

“Pay someone who knows how to make a bridge,” said Harkon.

“I think we need to be preparing and setting out tomorrow,” said Kaz.  “And we can purchase honey and have teganites for breakfast.”

“We could have them as a snack now as well,” said Protasion. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry,” said Lelyn.

“I’m growing, and putting on muscle,” said Protasion. “You cook them; you make such a nice job of them.”

Lelyn laughed, and went to beat flour and water and a little salt and olive oil to make pancakes to fry in olive oil, and drizzled them well with honey as a snack of what was normally breakfast food, and Kaz put the maps away to avoid honey getting on them.

 

oOoOo

 

They set out early in the morning the next day, well-fortified with more pancakes,  porridge with dried fruit, and apples. A rope-bridge had been manufactured overnight, and was carried by the lay-servants Kvag and Dran, with the aid of one of the hired spade-toting trógling who came along, half a dozen of them, glad to be hired for better pay than growing food, and torn between hope that there would be some excitement, and fear that there would be some excitement.

Some enterprising trógling had come up with the idea of using the black volcanic glass which had welled up in places to cleave into thin planes to put in a frame, padded with leather, for trógling to wear over their eyes, to mitigate the pain of daylight, a vast improvement on tying a veil of sheer black silk over the eyes. Kaz and Rynn bought themselves a screen each, and Kaz bought one each for Kvag and Dran.

 

Kaz regarded the city from the cliff from which they had mapped it initially.

“Yes, I remembered correctly,” she said. “If we anchor one end of the bridge here, and you can take it to the central spire, Phaedros, we can all cross and work on a top to bottom approach.”

There were trees on the ridge, and the rope bridge was quickly anchored to a sturdy one. Phaedros picked up the roll of bridge.

“No,” said Kaz.

“What do you mean?” said Phaedros, who was sweating at the weight and looking worried.

“Don’t take the weight of the bridge,” said Kaz. “Tie a line to the other end, and fly over with that, and then draw the bridge over.”

“Right, yes,” said Phaedros.

Phaedros flew out with a light line, and found the spire to the dome still visible above the general surface. He wrapped the line around it according to instructions from Kaz, and drew the bridge out towards him. He was just securing the line, and hoping that he had remembered the knots correctly, when there was a bolt of lighting from a clear sky, and Thyella arrived next to the party on the cliff, terrifying the hireling trógling, who fled.

“What are you doing, Harkon?” she asked.

“Holding a supper party for Marsh Creepers,” said Harkon, sarcastically.

Thyella frowned, confused.

“There’s no marsh here,” she said.

“Congratulations, give that goddess some consolation points for some observational skills,” said Harkon, paying out the bridge as Phaedros drew it over.

“If you want to get over there, if you just asked, I could make you a bridge,” said Thyella, and clouds formed which she ran over. “Hello, cousin,” she said to Phaedros.

“Go away; I’m busy,” said Phaedros.

She pouted, and ran back, as Kaz ran along the rope bridge, mostly to test Phaedros’s knots.

Kaz made a few adjustments, showing Phaedros what she was doing. She waved an arm.

Her party, other than the trógling who had fled, came on, one at a time.

“Don’t you want me to help you, Harkon?” said Thyella.

“No,” said Harkon. “You’re a bloody nuisance and you frightened away our hirelings.”

The goddess stared.

“But I want to atone for being tempted to behave badly,” she said.

“You could help most by not being underfoot and upsetting our hirelings,” Harkon growled.

“But how could I scare them? I am but a woman, and I have been told that they do not count as Toróg, so it is not for me to fight them.”

“Most sensible people find lightning bolts arriving beside them quite scary, especially when full of goddess,” said Harkon. “Now I’ll never have a chance of persuading them back to work, and our task will be harder.”

“I will go and order them to return!” said Thyella, moving onto one foot.

Harkon grabbed her by the wrist.

“You will not!” he barked at her in his parade-ground voice. “They have been frightened enough without you starting to throw orders at them, after arriving in another bolt of lightning!”

“Thou hast laid hands on me! Nobody has ever touched me, me, the Celestial Virgin!” cried Thyella, in shock.

“More’s the pity; if you don’t stop making a nuisance of yourself, I’ll put you over my knee and give you the sort of spanking you should have had when you were younger and more capable of learning not to be a spoilt brat. Nobody likes brats,” said Harkon.

“Let go of me!” cried Thyella,            

“No, I bloody well will not!” said Harkon. “If you want to make up for the trouble you’ve caused, you can bloody well pick up a spade and dig, since I’ve lost half a dozen trógling who know digging spells, which is why I brought them, and if your pretty hands hurt from digging, I have no sympathy.  Either that, or get lost!”.

Thyella wept, but she picked up a spade, looking rather helpless with it.

Meekly she followed Harkon over the rope bridge to the top of the dome.

“You could have used my bridge of clouds,” she said.

“I think you will find that most people trust something they understand, rather than walking on something that common sense tells them is insubstantial,” said Harkon.

“But I can will them substantial,” said Thyella.

“And if you get in a snit while people are on it, and it disappears?” said Harkon. “You’re capricious.”

Thyella found herself being instructed in how to use a spade by a trógling with hair dyed a startling shade of golden yellow.

Resisting the urge to ignore Rynn, thinking that she needed no instruction, Thyella found that it was harder than she had realised, and was glad of the pointers.

“You’re doing well; good girl,” said Harkon. “If you can take instruction, outside of your godly portfolio, you have every chance of being one of the deities who survives.”

Thyella went white.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Alethos has a theory that with the godswar which is coming, the gods have to be prepared to consider change, or will end up becoming irrelevant and dying for lack of worshippers,” said Harkon.

“Oh! Like The Forgotten?” said Thyella. “They are not dead, but they have very little power, and they have become childish and play games. They have, some of them, enough power to interfere with individual mortals at times. The Easterners used to worship gods, there’s a whole pantheon of Forgotten there, who swoop around playing games and pulling faces. From time to time one of them catches the attention of a mortal and become a minor cult, but it doesn’t usually last long. Around here, there are gods and goddesses of mountain and stream who are abandoned.”

“Sad, but inevitable,” said Harkon. “Well, with the population increasing here, they will doubtless garner some worship. It is the nature of humanity to give thanks for water, and for shelter, and they will grow once more.” He considered. “That was arrogant of me, wasn’t it? To use a word like humanity, not mortals. The trógling and Tragosti will worship them too, even if the Tragosti eventually disappear as a race with their offspring born more human.”

“Tragosti! Chaos!” her eyes went wide and she wielded her spade as if it were a weapon.

“With the taint removed for worshipping Alethos, so calm down,” said Harkon.  “I believe it’s something any god – or goddess – could do, so why not steal some for yourself?  Leave them with lightning-bold shaped horns or something to mark them as yours. Then, instead of dead enemies, you have live worshippers.”

Thyella gave a squeal of delight.

“You think of the nicest things!” she squealed.

“It is better to take chaos beings away from the Blood Moon, because it counts as double the victory,” said Harkon.  “Like rescuing Trógling, who are not chaotic, but as they often eschew worship of Toróg gods, and have little knowledge of other gods, their souls go, by default to be devoured by the Trickster. And one day, Kaz will confront him, and free them, but in the meantime, we need to find information to allow her to be able to project herself back in time to be cursed by him, so that all prophecies may come to fruit.”

“Why has nobody told me anything about this before?” pouted Thyella.

“You aren’t important enough,” said Harkon. “Don’t pout, it makes you look like a carp.”

Thyella scowled, and some clouds formed, with a crackle of lightning between them.

“Cut that out!” snapped Kaz.

“Nobody is impressed by me at all,” said Thyella.

“We’re in training to kill the chaos gods. Why should we be impressed by a minor goddess who doesn’t do a lot?” said Harkon.

“I pledge myself to your cause!” said Thyella.

“Good; it’s always nice to have allies. But clear it with Kaz before you decide to go off and do anything pre-emptively,” said Harkon.

Apparently, they were stuck with her.

“Oh, poo!” said Thyella. “There’s a volcano erupting on the other side of the world, and I have to go and add lightning. Back soon!” She disappeared in a flash of light and a whiff of ozone.

“Volatile,” said Kaz.

“One word for her,” agreed Harkon. “And she’s nicked a spade!”

 

 

death's knight 9 cliffie bonus

 

Chapter 9

 

Harkon stood, waiting to be struck down.

Lightning flickered in a clear sky; and Thyella vanished. The other two clenched their fists and contemplated Harkon.

And then the heavy weight of a premier god lay upon the little valley, and a man who resembled Phaedrus appeared, his skin shining,

“Get back to father’s court,” he said.

“But Pollonis! This mortal has insulted us!” said Zeandine.

“No, actually, he hasn’t,” said Pollonis. “He has told you some brutal truths and he is under my protection. A pretty thing it would be, would it not, to cause a war of the gods, for Alethos would have to demand your lives in exchange for that of one of his favourites.”

“Is that why he doesn’t like the women I showed him? He’s shagging Alethos?” asked Zeandine.

Pollonis slapped her.

“If he was, it would not be any of your business, but some men are more fastidious than the ones you make drool over you!” he shouted. “Now get back to court and take your foolish egg with you!”

“No,” said Harkon and Kaz in one voice.

“What?” Pollonis turned.

“That egg is wrong,” said Kaz. “It carries evil.”

Pollonis frowned and regarded the egg.

“Chaos!” he snarled. He raised his hand, and a spear was in it.

“Let your son do it,” said Harkon. “He needs feel what such things are like for himself. Phaedros, take your sword, and cut it open.”

“No! it is beautiful…” cried Secalia.

“It has caused my sisters and my niece to quarrel,” said Pollonis. “You two! Begone!”

The two goddesses fled. Phaedros lifted his sword, and hit the egg.

It bounced off.

“Add a flameblade spell,” said Harkon. “Magic is needed to break through it.”

Phaedros did so, and this time, the egg broke at his blow. Kaz, watching narrowly, was fairly certain that it was because of Phaedros’s own divine nature that it was possible for the chaos egg to be broken open. The shards flew in all directions, and Phaedros dropped his sword, cradling his right arm as if it had been hurt by the blow.

From the remains of the egg, crawled a hideous travesty of eagle and man, which looked around.

“But you promised to protect me!” it croaked, pointing at Protasion. “You were paid well enough!”

“What?” said Protasion. Some of his fellows turned towards him, reproachfully.

Kaz narrowed her eyes, as Lelyn seized Protasion’s hand and clung to it, whilst Evgon, Svargia, Kuros, and Polia looked at him as if he was a stranger and an enemy.

“Alethos fill your hearts with truth!” she cried, swinging her sword at the head of the hideous being. It dodged.

“Foolish trogling, to think your companions do anything but laugh up their sleeves at you pretending to be a warrior,” said the thing.

“Trógling,” said Kaz, automatically. She knew she was a good warrior, the jibes would not touch her, she would not let them, though the insidious voice hammered on her self-respect.

“You humans should keep the slave in its place, and not let it attack young gods,” said the thing.

“Just kill it, Kaz; don’t play with your food,” said Vulk.

The creature expelled a stream of spittle, and Kaz swayed effortlessly out of the way, gasping with pain as a drop touched her hand, and burned.

“I’m not eating that, I don’t know where it’s been,” said Kaz, tracking the movement of the creature with her sword, learning how it moved.  It tried to launch itself into the air for flight, but had given itself away by glancing upwards; and Kaz  let the momentum of her blade carry it up to reverse for a downstroke which caught the creature as it flew upwards, neatly cleaving its head from its body. Her sword hissed, and the iron blade dissolved.

“What was that thing?” cried Lelyn, clinging to Protasion. “Its words were more poisonous than its blood!”

“It influenced us to turn on Protasion,” gasped Evgon. “I also ask, what could it be?”

Kaz did not answer, for she was fighting the spirit of the being she had killed.  Kaz gritted her teeth as the creature tried to bite her magical heart, taunting her that she was nothing but a deformed travesty, who would never amount to anything. The words hammered home like wounds in her heart, there was some compulsion the creature carried to believe its lies.

Kaz drew on the love of Alethos, and used the rock carving cantrips to strengthen her nails to dig into the spirit; being magical, they could do real damage. As could the wring cantrip from laundry spells. Ripping and twisting, she dove into the mind of the spirit, shuddering at its evil, its sheer contentiousness.  It had a horribly inverted form of the Truth glyph as a part of its make-up, where the concentric circles were displaced, a glyph of Confusion; as well as one of Chaos, and another travesty of the Death glyph, which Kaz read as Strife. It was almost as if this godling had been designed to counter Alethos and his followers.

And perhaps it had. 

“Go on, Kaz, rip it!” yelled Protasion, encouragingly. “We all love you! Ignore anything it says!” He, like the others, could see glimpses of the aura of the spirit as it attacked their friend and as she struck back at the near-invisible entity, biting with hard, trógling teeth into the spiritual wing, to hold the spirit and prevent it from freeing itself and escaping. Harkon stood on watch, his own sword flaming, thrusting it at the spirit to keep it from escape, his brother, Toval, and Kaz’s spirit friend, Zon, helping to peel back the layers of consciousness, to tear the spirit of something so potentially dangerous to absolute destruction. Somewhere within there was the knowledge of a giant eagle mother, wounded and stinking with some chaos disease, her nest and egg corrupted and the essence of a god entered into the egg as it was taken over.

Kaz breathed deeply. She had stored power to back her, and she threw it at the foul glyphs, wrapped around the laundry cantrip of inside-out for getting washing all the right way out.  Somewhere she was aware that Alethos was laughing himself silly. Kaz just seized all she could from the entity as it was ripped to shreds and ceased to be.

“So simple, so practical! Most people twist themselves half into loops to get glyphs to change, but you just launder them into submission,” he sniggered. “Oh, my darling, you have made the requirements to be my priest as well as my lord, and you have made the first step to herodom. You have your own glyphs.”

 Kaz sat down. She was spent, but she could feel her magical heart expanding from the fight, and from what she had ripped from the chaotic godling; and Zon, too, was stronger for his part in the fight.

 

“My egg! Someone has destroyed my egg!” raged Daze.

“Who? Punish them,” said Selen.

“I cannot feel who; the presence of both Pollonis and Arethos drown out who did it. It is probably Harkon; but at least I have stirred up hatred for him with the sun-daughters.”

 

Pollonis cast a ritual of cleansing on the shards of the egg,

“My lady,” said Pollonis. “I have asked permission of Alethos to replace your blade. Might I have the hilt of the burned one?”

“Was that acid or caustic?” asked Kaz. “I need to neutralise the wound… it is spreading.”

Alethos was there in a trice.

“It is caustic, so will not respond to being peed on to neutralise,” he said. “Vinegar, and I fancy only my healing will close it.”

Lelyn ran with vinegar, and poured it liberally on Kaz’s burned hand; the drop of spittle had taken the flesh on the back of her hand down to bone in one place and was spreading up her arm.

Kaz vomited with the pain, and Alethos concentrated.

“Paste made with the white star flower,” he commanded. Lelyn gave it to him.

“Eagle mother… wounded… I think by Toróg poisoned spear initially… further hurt by chaos disease,” said Kaz. The paste to counter the wasting poison the Toróg used on their weapons helped ease the pain, and Pollonis joined with Alethos in a chant over the wound, which closed up and Kaz sighed in relief.

“My thanks, my lords,” she said.

“I fear it will be a white scar, always,” said Alethos.

“Better by far than lose my sword hand,” said Kaz. “I was wondering if I should have to ask Harkon to cut it off for me.”

“I am glad none of us have to meet that thing grown to adulthood,” said Alethos.

“Indeed,” said Pollonis.  “And now, your blade…” Rynn passed him the hilt; she had soaked the rest of the blade in vinegar. Pollonis nodded, banishing the rest of the blade, and inscribed glyphs magically on the hilt. “When you will it, you will have a sword made of pure light; and whatever length you will.”

“Whatever length?” asked Kaz, interested.

“Once past the length of a hand-and-a-half sword it will be less effective, as the light will tend to spread out,” said Pollonis. “Such is the nature of light. Your will keeps it concentrated in the shape of a blade.”

“I am deeply grateful,” said Kaz.

“No, Daykaz; I and my father are deeply grateful to you all, to Harkon, for refusing to be drawn into something which would cause war and strife in my father’s court, and to you for battling that… thing… and recognising that it must be destroyed spiritually as well to stop it regaining a body.”

“I think we all took a big step into our destiny in a larger world,” said Kaz.

Alethos kissed her gently, and he and Pollonis left the party to hunker down by the spring and recover from a very nasty incident.

“Any idea what it was?” asked Rynn.

“A god or demi-god, new-made,” said Phaedros. Rynn had healed his broken arm.  “That, at least, I may sense. A new power to spread strife and contention, I think.  I am impressed by its swift despatch.”

“If it had had the quarrel of a choice made of one of the three, it could have split the court of Solos,” said Harkon, soberly. “And caused trouble between Solos and Alethos.”

“Neatly forestalling our moves against the interloper gods,” said Kaz. “I think we know who set this in motion; a trickster would be needed.”

There were murmurs of assent.

 

 

Pollonis grabbed his sisters by the ears as they tried to hide by his father’s throne. He looked around for Thyella.

He saw her, her face stricken with shame.

“You, at least, don’t need a lecture, my niece,” said Pollonis.

“I behaved abominably,” said Thyella.

“Then, you know what to do,” said Pollonis.  “As for you two!  Have you no shame?”

“It was only a beauty contest,” said Secalia. “We wanted a mortal to judge it. He reacted out of all proportion…”

“He did not!” bellowed Pollonis. “He treated you as shamed, as you are shamed! Using bribery on a mortal is a despicable thing to do! And to do so on a near-hero of a god of Truth is the most unutterably stupid thing anyone might do. I count Harkon now as an associate priest of mine, and I also favour him; do not try any games with him, you little ninnies!  If I thought it would do you any good, I’d give both of you a good spanking, but I fear you would only regret that it wasn’t Harkon doing the spanking. You disgust me; you let yourselves be influenced by a game of the Trickster, with an egg containing a godling of discord and strife! Had that thing hatched and persuaded some dubious winner that it was wise beyond measure, one of you could have torn the universe apart with war! Get out of sight, and don’t let me see you for a very long time!”

His sisters scrambled to get out of the field of scrutiny of their furious brother.

 

 

Back at the spring, Harkon groaned as there was a burst of lightning out of clear skies, and Thyella returned.

“Oh, no, not again,” he said.

Thyella swallowed her pride, and knelt, touching her right hand to her head, her heart, and extending the empty palm in a universal gesture of supplication.

“I have come to apologise,” she said. “I… I realised the moment you disqualified us that we had all behaved shamefully. It was… I was so caught up in wanting to be thought beautiful the way my aunts are, not laughed at for being skinny, and muscled not rounded and beautiful… I thought a warrior might, with incentives be able to see some beauty in me… but now I know I was a foolish creature, enchanted by a chaos ploy.  But even so, I should have known better than to try to bribe a judge.”

Tears ran down her cheeks, with tiny lightning bolts crackling in them.

“Please rise, goddess,” said Harkon. “Yes, you should have known better, but you have realised and you have come to make amends.  As it happens, had it been no more than a lighthearted contest, I should have declared you the most beautiful; I do not find the looks of your aunts to be to my taste at all. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and I do not think that I will ever marry, for I will always measure any woman I see against your divine loveliness. And yet, that geas I carry joyfully for having the pleasure of knowing that your beauty is allied to integrity and the ability to look at yourself objectively means that I will readily accept that no other woman could stir my heart.”

“You are generous,” said Thyella.  “I would that you will accept an associate priesthood with me; I do not often accept men into my cult, as I am a goddess of warrior women, but I will be pleased to enable you to learn those glyph-spells which are unique to me.”

“I am happy to accept your act of amends without requiring such gifts,” said Harkon.

“I want to gift you, to aid your quest to support the Daykaz,” said Thyella.

“Should you not offer them to her?” asked Harkon.

“If it pleases you that I should do so; but I cannot but wonder if skills of the skies would be uncomfortable to one reared with the Toróg,” said Thyella. “If I am wrong….”

“You are not wrong,” said Kaz. “I am the mother of shadows, and those cast by your lightning make stark shadows close to the divide of light and dark. And, as you surmise, I am happier on or under the earth than above it. I will not, however, turn down friendship and an alliance, even as we are friends with your cousin, here, Phaedros.

“That, I will give right willingly. I do not like it that the Trickster might be able to control me, through some enchanted egg. I… you have destroyed it?”

“And the god of discord within it,” said Kaz, grimly.

“Good,” said Thyella. “I… I will see you all again; and call on me at need.”

Kaz inclined her head, and the goddess vanished in a crack of lightning.

“Abrupt sort of person,” said Kaz.

“But a good ally,” said Harkon. He sighed, heavily.

“When you are a hero, you can court her,” said Kaz.

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

“I presume that the few square denoms of skin which make that so are no different in a goddess to those in a mortal woman,” shrugged Kaz.

“But it might affect her powers, and diminish her,” said Harkon.

“Or it might affect her powers and enhance her,” said Kaz. “You’ve heard Alethos on the subject of being unchanging playing into the hands of chaos.”

“Leave it, Kaz,” said Harkon. “Just… leave it.”

 

death's knight 8

 

Chapter 8

 

“Thank goodness, back on firm ground and the ten-toed pony,” said Kaz, thankfully, as they left the city. “I do not like ships.”

“Boats, strictly speaking,” said Harkon.

“I don’t find I care enough to argue the nomenclature,” said Kaz.  “I hope I never need to use Maelstrom Lake to get to Hell for a visit.”

“We can go via the path of the sobbing dead,” said Harkon. “Alethos said we could use it again at need.”

“Truth,” said Kaz, brightening up, remembering how they had opened a gate for the ghosts of the plain and had given them somewhere to belong. She could feel the shy worship of one of the ghosts who had travelled through, a little girl, and knew now that the child’s name was Iphianira. Kaz had almost walked into the underworld hand in hand with the ghostly child, but had been stopped by Alethos. She thought warmly of the little girl every time they passed this way.

The peasants working the fields no longer gave signs to ward off evil aimed at passers-by; and the rich, dark soil, between the two rivers which fed the Red River, was cultivated to a distance that reached further away from the city, and new villages might be seen.

Kaz sighed when their path brought them to one village.

“The village we are about to pass through is where we camped in a spinney and slept through the heat of the day,” she said. “People did not dare venture even this far.”

“But more people may be supported, now that we have been able to find the ghosts a home,” said Harkon. “It was your idea.”

“I confess, I was thinking of the comfort of the dead,” said Kaz. “And yes, it is good to open up dead lands. This land between the rivers should all be used.  And if it is, it will make for safer ways to traverse the Drylands to the Great Plains if there are villagers able to serve those who wish to cross the Drylands.”

“Well, it’s the same place that we rested last time; this time, we shall sit inside in the ale house and drink something cold,” said Harkon. “I don’t believe anyone has yet cultivated land beyond the Great Sill, where the mountains flowed across the land with the cataclysm.  Other than a few lay servants of the temple which has been built on the site of our endeavours, where we shall find Zalmox and Alcitha as lord and priest.”

“It will be good to see them again, after we had to get them out of Mesolimnos in a hurry when Alcitha was seen rescuing slaves,” said Kaz.

“Will we stop overnight here?” asked Phaedros. His tone was a little plaintive.

“How are your feet?” asked Rynn. “I told you to tell me if your boots were rubbing.”

“I don’t think I have any of these ‘blisters’ you described,” said Phaedros. “But my legs burn, and my feet hurt.”

“Well, Kvag and Dran have never done this trip before, either,” said Kaz. “We’ll have a foot inspection, and some leg massage, and see how you feel.”

“Yes, mother,” said Phaedros, ironically.

“And don’t forget it,” said Kaz.

The inn fell silent as the strangers walked in.

“Wolves!” cried one.

“Not Lycoids,” said Kaz, firmly. “Nothing to worry about.  A bowl of water for each of them, please, and a hambone to chew on.  A room for us to rest and eat in, please, and a meal for nine, bowls, and jugs of hot and cold water to wash and bathe tired feet.”

As an inn on a roadway used more than before, there were rooms for travellers to be private, as well as for sleeping, and if the room was a trifle rustic, with benches and a single long table, it was cool, and private.

 

Warm and cold bowls of water for Phaedros and the young tróglings helped their weary feet no end, and the other warriors gave deep massage to calves and thighs of those suffering.

“I think we should move out of the village, and camp, and just lose half a day,” said Kaz. “There’s no point pushing them too hard. Kvag and Dran could ride our wolves, but a mule is no easy ride.”

“I could change and carry him at need,” said Vulk. “I am stronger than most wolves.”

“You are a Lycoid?” said Phaedros, in some fear.

“No, I’m a shifter. I was a Lycoid, but taking service with Alethos gave me a cure; more advantages and no disadvantages,” said Vulk. “I can change shape at will, I am unaffected by the blood moon, and I carry no diseases.”

“Alethos has been doing more to defeat the evils of the chaos twins than anyone else, it seems,” said Phaedros. “Whilst my father and grandfather sat, complacently, waiting for the child of prophecy to pull their blades out of the casting stones.” He scowled. “And I will not apologise for that, even if I am punished, because my father has let me down as well as his people.  I will not turn my back on my worship, but I would be a poor worshipper if I did not speak up and expect my godly sire to do better.”

“Bravo,” said Harkon. “Pollonis also values the glyph of Truth, and must understand that you have no choice but to be true to yourself, and all that you know and believe.”

Phaedros’s eyes widened.

“He speaks to me and reassures me,” he said, tears starting in his eyes. “And he asked me to thank you all for being true friends. He… he plans to find out why I was left so badly trained; and he is sorry he did not spend more time with me.”

He performed the worship ritual for Pollonis, and his new friends copied him and joined him in respect for the god able to admit to a mistake.

 

The villagers were not displeased that this dangerous looking party moved out of the inn to camp outside the village overnight. Too much iron on warriors argued men and women too dangerous to want to have them around. Glyph-lords and priests were frightening.

 

The group pushed on next day, taking frequent stops, and reached the Great Sill by mid-afternoon.

“And that’s where the mountains fell down and covered a city?” asked Phaedros, eyeing the cliff of tumbled rubble dubiously.

“So they say,” said Harkon. “The souls of refugees and citizens alike wailed for centuries on that higher plain. We let the priests of Solos take the kudos for removing the ghosts, through their prayers, to distract notice from our Kaz persuading Alethos to open a pathway and welcome them to rest. There’s a temple now on the site of it.”

“The cultivation goes no further than this, as yet, though, as I understand it,” said Kaz.

“The land isn’t as fertile, being bits of mountain,” said Harkon. “And I fancy it will be a long time before anyone but worshippers of Alethos, who do not fear Death, are willing to live there.”

“Some ghosts did not go,” said Kaz. “Some were afraid; some just resisted. But they cannot cause us any harm.”

There was a sudden bolt of lightning out of the blue sky; and where it struck, suddenly there stood a beautiful woman,  with ivory skin, deep blue eyes, and hair so pale a blonde it was almost silvery. She was clad in iron armour, chased with silver.

“I had to come ahead, to make sure you heard my arguments first, Judge Harkon!” she said. “Your vaunted skills of judgement will be tested, and I want you to know that if you decide for me that you would find the skills of the storm very useful.”

“Madam, I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Harkon, bowing.

“That is my cousin, Thyella, the Celestial Virgin,” said Phaedros. “And others approach….”

“Oh, this is going to be trouble,” said Kaz.

Two other beautiful women appeared, both blonde, but one of them with a touch of green to her long, loose hair, and the other with hair the colour of ripening wheat.

“Thyella! How dare you steal a march on us!” cried the one with the greenish tinge to her hair.

“Ladies, let us have no fighting,” said Harkon. “May I enquire who you might be and what you want?”

“You’re right, he is rather dreamy,” said the golden haired one. “I might even consider him as a lover.”

Kaz suppressed a snort. Harkon was not likely to enjoy a lover with plumply rounded limbs and a figure lush enough to be almost overblown.

“I am Zeandine; this is Secalia, and that is Thyella,” said the green-haired one. “The Sky Griffin has left us this egg; and it is to be the mount and counsel of the most beautiful of us, and we have chosen you to judge. We will meet you again in three days, and you might choose. Come, Thyella,” she added. They turned and walked away, juggling the egg between them.

“There’s something wrong, there,” said Kaz. “Did your sense of an enemy poke you, Harkon?”

“It did,” said Harkon. “And I think it was the egg. What foolishness is this that a pack of goddesses think I have nothing better to do with my time than judge stupid beauty contests?  Were they contesting feats of arms I would be better qualified to judge.”

“One of them returns,” said Phaedros. “I can ‘hear’ godly travel.”

It was Secalia.

“Harkon,” she cooed, “I have powers over grain, and if you chose to become the mightiest warlord in the land, I could see that your troops were always fed well. Just imagine, throwing out the Selenites, because your men never wanting for anything.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with your personal appearance,” said Harkon. “If you are loyal to Solos, surely you would place such power at the disposal of all generals fighting the Selenites?”

“But you would be their king,” cooed Secalia, and vanished.

“That was… disturbing,” said Harkon.

“Another approaches,” said Phaedros.

This was Zeandine.

She laid a hand on Harkon’s arm.

“Let me show you the most beautiful woman in the world; she could be yours, if you wished. At the moment she is the betrothed of Ralthur Kron, but it is said he has deserted the Selenites, and her family has yet to marry her to another, so she is virginal as well as lovely.”

Harkon found himself in a bubble of what he referred to as ‘elsewhen’ similar to being partially on the GodPlane to worship. A scene opened before his eyes of a voluptuous woman with long, dark hair, on a couch, eating grapes. Her ample assets were confined by intricate lacing of her lavender gown. Harkon shuddered.

“Ralthur has had a lucky escape; I wouldn’t want to wake up to her every morning,” he said.

“What? Don’t you think she is beautiful?” demanded Zeandine.

“No,” said Harkon.

Zeandine made a moue and snapped her fingers.

The woman was armoured, and her pale gold hair was braided. She was clad in a nod to iron armour, but her slender, muscular limbs were tanned golden and on display.

“Perhaps Thea Drex is more to your liking, heroine of the Selenite Empire; but I could help you to seize her, and make her yours.”

She was beautiful.

But her eyes were colder than death.

Harkon shrugged.

“I’d like to go back to my people, now,” he said.

“I could find you a young man, you know, if that’s what you prefer,” said Zeandine.

“I prefer to go back to my people,” said Harkon.

He was dumped out of Zeandine’s bubble unceremoniously.

“This is definitely increasingly disturbing,” said Harkon.

“Incoming,” said Phaedros, laconically.

The lightning strike brought Thyella.

“I did not have much chance to put my case…” she began.

Harkon held up a hand.

“I will make my judgement in three days as you have asked of me,” he said.

 

 

Harkon had disturbed sleep for the next night, with dreams about sitting on a throne commanding vast armies, and nights of passion with  beautiful women; and of sight from clouds looking down at the land far below, and travelling in a lightning bolt.

The second night was spent at the temple of Alethos, where Zalmox and Alcitha embraced them all and welcomed them in.

The night after, they reached the stockade of the temple to Solos, in the foothills, and Harkon’s sleep was disturbed again.

“This is starting to irritate me,” he said.

“Be true to yourself,” said Kaz.

“I will,” said Harkon, grimly. “I am not going to survive this, Kaz; and I only regret that it means I will not be able to aid you, but when they, or Solos, strike me down for my impudence, perhaps I can come to you as a bound spirit, together with my brother, Toval, to join Zon.”

“If you are correct, these mountains will rob me of another friend,” said Kaz, sadly. Zon, the trógling who had died defending her had been eager to continue her defence as a spirit, but she missed his cheeky comments to the party.  “Let us leave early; I do not want us meeting with those females in a temple where they might be expected to have some power.”

Harkon agreed.

“Kill the egg,” he said. “What they do to me does not matter, but deal with that abomination.”

“I will,” said Kaz.

 

The three goddesses were waiting by a spring which fed a laughing rill, where they planned to stop and rest.

“And have you made a decision, Harkon?” demanded Zeandine.

“Yes,” said Harkon. He made silent prayers to Alethos to accept his spirit when he came to him. “I have. True beauty lies only in truth, and truth is something none of you practise, as every one of you tried to bribe me. This is cheating, and is a lie implicit. Therefore, I disqualify all of you.”