destiny's queen 11

 

Chapter 11

 

“Ombros is still alive!” panicked Selen to Daze. “And he has taken revenge by destroying my foremost temple in Selenopolis!”

“So, the so-called Knights of the Clear Skies have declared open war,” said Daze.

“Yes, but how is he alive? I saw him fall, his throat torn by my poor Lycos!” cried Selen. “I know some followers of his killed Lycos, but how did they save Ombros?”

Daze pondered.

“I don’t know,” he said, at length. “They must have had Latrika, lady of healing, with them.”

“She is Alethos’s sister; it’s him doing it. And his damned rebels in Mesolimnos! I am going to overwhelm them!”

 

 

Soldiers started appearing outside Mesolimnos, in their thousands, some in full armour, some not even dressed, and all confused. The huddled garrison started attacking them, thinking they were the enemy, and many died before Arialla Larth was able to scream to them that their goddess was sending more troops.

Sobus Aren looked on in horror.

He had ten thousand more men, many without armour, or even suitable clothing, no tents, an insufficiency of latrines, and worse than that, no supplies.

He used a battlefield spell to enhance his voice.

“If your given name falls from A to H in the alphabet, find spades and start digging latrine pits! If your name is I to R, find axes, and start chopping trees to build shelters! Everyone else is foraging for any food you can find!” he bellowed.

 

On the battlements, Kaz watched.

“He’s moderately level headed and efficient,” she said. “Whatever is Selen thinking of, dumping thousands of unprepared troops on us?”

“That’s Harkon’s fault for causing an uprising in Selenopolis,” said Thyella, sniggering.

“This is going to get messy,” muttered Kaz. “Selen doesn’t have food making or multiplication in her folio, does she?”

“No,” said Thyella. “That was what Secalia offered Harkon over that wretched egg; that she could make sure that any army he led was always provided with plenty of grain.”

“Obviously she isn’t as stupid and ditsy a creature as I thought her,” said Kaz. “She at least comprehends that only well-fed armies fight.”

“Unlike Zeandine,” sniggered Thyella. “If Zeandine was any stupider, you’d have to plant her in a pot and water her.”

“Goddess of animal lust,” shrugged Kaz. “Even if she applies it to humans, we all know what happens when men start thinking with their small head, not their big one.”

“Good point,” said Thyella. “And women who start thinking with a need for lust over love for a good man will self-destruct.”

“Sadly, I fear you are right,” said Kaz.

 

 

Ogeron Cass was spitting nails.

He had been getting ready for a most advantageous marriage to Princess Tallys, who had a delectable young body, even if she did have ginger hair; he could always make her dye it.  And it meant he would also be close to her mother, his lover.  The empress had facilitated removing him from prison for failing to get the troops to Mesolimnos – which was not his fault – and then everything else fell apart. First, the brat disappeared. He was going to beat her black and blue when she turned up. It might even be fun to tame her; she was said to be a wild piece.

But the temple to Selen had been attacked twice, once to rescue some slaves nobody cared about and the temple Thorns whose actions would bless his wedding had been massacred.  Ogeron did not see why slaves should make a fuss about being deflowered; that was the purpose of women, after all.  And some of them might be lucky enough to conceive, and bear children to be raised by the temple as food for the bloodsucker priest, and be inducted into the worship of Aima. Why, it would be an honour for the children of slaves. And then, the second time was over some peasants who should be grateful to serve; and the temple was destroyed.  And then he had been plucked from his house and dumped into a rainy, muddy field with his erstwhile army.

“You!” he said, in dislike when he saw Erlax Sorn.

“And is this your fault, you overdressed ninny?” demanded Erlax Sorn.

As well as ten thousand men, Selen had plucked seventeen generals from the army to run things, and it was not long before different views on what should be done broke down into an unseemly brawl, which the troops, unhappy at their sudden arrival and having to build camp without adequate supplies, happily joined in, fighting for the general they mostly supported.

It took three days for  Sobus Aren and Arialla Larth to come remotely close to sorting out the mayhem; and only then because there were ten thousand hungry men, and there was theft going on from the supplies, which were not sufficient to cope with such an influx. 

The Mesolimnians sat back to watch the fun, under brilliant spring sunshine whilst the rain still fell on the foe, snacking on battered freshwater shrimps, nuts, and dried fruit.

“A pity they got something close to order,” said Kaz.

“That’s down to the efficiency of Erlax Sorn and his men, killing off other generals,” said Harkon. “I suspect he can manage to work with Sobus Aren, but they’ll have trouble garnering enough food.”

“They already started slaughtering those big beasts the heavy cavalry ride, and threatening to slaughter and eat the heavy cavalrymen if they protest,” said Pythas.  “It gives them a little longer to forage further,  and they can kill marsh creatures to eat, and fish in the rivers, and harvest cat tails. If they know how.”

Protasion sniggered.

“One of them caught a sauricthys, and not knowing any better, they gutted it, releasing the poison from the poison sac, and they ate the lot, unpalatable front half and all, and then the dozen men who had partaken in the meal had wild dreams, and stripped naked to dance before they fell down dead with their blood dried up,” he said.

“I am glad you showed us how to deal with the poison sac, so we could eat the fishy end,” said Kaz. “Several of them have been eaten by Marsh Creepers, too.”

“It couldn’t happen to nicer people,” said Protasion.

“There’s a steady stream of deserters, too,” said Pythas. “We’re letting them go. Of course Sobus Aren crucifies anyone who deserts, but as he’s crucifying anyone who fights, steals, dances, or complains, a lot of them think they might as well chance it. Once they’re gone, they’re gone, and we don’t have to fight them.”

“Did you hear what happened to the group who landed on our rear flank, next to the Red River?” asked Kaz.

“Only that they didn’t last long,” said Pythas. “What did happen?”

“Mycota was feeling grateful to us, so she grew them some mushrooms,” said Kaz. “Only they were the sort of mushrooms which bring the same sort of visions and dreams as the poison of sauricthys. Two of them buried each other up to the head, because they were convinced they were trees, and needed their roots to be deep in the soil; several solemnly opened their veins into the Red River, because it was demanding a sacrifice; and a huge bunch of them headed for the dry lands on a noisy hunt after a gigantic bat nobody else could see. As far as I know, of those who survived their fungal adventures, most of them set out for home.”

The others laughed. The deserters were probably the lucky ones; those who remained faced disease from inadequate latrine pits, starvation, and the misery of being rained on constantly.  They had managed to put up rude shelters, basically a sloping roof for half a dozen, with a fire, but it was not very adequate protection against constant rain, and Harkon’s occasional visitations of wind, hail, and thunder.

“I do need to shed the odd lightning bolt and the hail that gathers,” murmured Harkon. “It seems like a good place to get rid of it.”

“Did you want to lay a bet on how long it will take for someone to organise a credible mutiny?” asked Protasion. “I opened a book on it. Kaz is down for three weeks, Pythas is down for one week, and Alethos was specific in it being two days after you next chuck weather at them.”

“Oh, I’ll go one better than Alethos, and say within a day round of my next weather chucking,” said Harkon. “I don’t have a schedule on that, only when I feel uncomfortable from the excess weather on my skin. You have no idea how uncomfortable it is when hail lurks around the backs of your ears, and vibrates with the urge to fall.”

“You’re supposed to go and shed it where it seems appropriate,” said Thyella.

“It seems appropriate to make Selenites miserable,” said Harkon.

“Hush! Come, we shall go and make some storms in various places, and make sure our child understands his stormy future,” said Thyella.

“I can never resist you,” said Harkon.

 

They returned several hours later, and Harkon looked more comfortable.

“It isn’t easy being a weather god,” he said, a trifle plaintively.

His friends laughed at him.

 

oOoOo

 

“I don’t know why my priests are grumpy at me,” sulked Selen. “I give them lots of men to help them hold a siege, and they manage to kill half of them, and complain that there isn’t enough food. Why can’t they just go out and get food? Armies forage, don’t they?”

“Damned if I know,” said Daze. “Food grows, I think. They can go  pick some.” In which Daze showed himself to be as lacking in understanding as his sister.

 

oOoOo

 

Sobus Aren got his men drilling. He had never commanded so large an army before, but he was a believer in keeping the men too tired to be able to cause trouble. Hence, they were taking turns to drill as well as to forage for food, and in keeping their weapons and armour well shone. Those without armour were given weapons of a sort, and if that meant that formerly high ranking heavy cavalrymen whose presence had been wrested naked from a whorehouse, then they would have to live with what clothes they could beg from others, and to be bare foot spearmen with javelins made from saplings. Had Sobus Aren not had quite such an animus against those of higher rank, egged on, it might be said, by Erlax Sorn, he might have been more sympathetic to the plight of those whose idea of off duty involved soft beds, often enough with soft women, and soft living. Being suddenly the scum of the army, after having been elite, and having the training in leadership at least, if not the instincts, it was unsurprising that several former elite warriors should get together to plot the downfall of Sobus Aren and Erlax Sorn, who were, in the views of these privileged young men, upstarts and  impudent. Had they been riding their magnificent horses in formation, in their splendid armour, it is likely that no more than a passing moment of scorn for those who had risen on merit would have crossed their minds. But humiliated and robbed of all rank, vengeance was a concept which lurked heavily in their breasts.

It came to a head when one Fuscus Kron demanded better living from Sobus Aren, and was struck on the face.

“How dare you! I am a member of the heavy cavalry...”  cried Fuscus.

“Where is your horse, boy?” sneered Sobus.

There was a growl from the other cavalrymen, those who had come from their soft quarters and those whose horses had been eaten; and suddenly, Sobus was surrounded, and several spears were thrust into his belly.

“No more peasant leaders!” yelled Fuscus Kron. “Kill them!”

One of those fighting beside him was Ogeron Cass, who had managed to survive the purge of Erlax Sorn by the skin of his teeth. Now it was a matter of the elite of the  empire against those who fancied themselves of near equal status.

The Mesolimnians were betting on the outcome.

“My money’s on the common soldiers deciding that if half the officers can mutiny, so can they,” said Kaz.

“Never interrupt your enemy when he is doing your job for you,” said Pythas. “If they hadn’t got the former heavy cavalry involved, I’d be laying odds against the mutineers, but they’ve got some heavy armour on their side.”

It was a vicious fight, and some of the few heavy horses left were brought up to join in against the leaders; and before the sun had set, the army had some new generals.

It was unfortunate for the Selenite army that the new generals had little idea of how to run even a small army, never mind a large one.  The failing theme of ‘Order- counterorder-disorder’ was swiftly established with thirty or so would-be generals trying to establish, each of them, his own stamp on the army.

It was chaos.

Fuscus Kron called a meeting to establish some kind of pecking order, and the would-be generals mostly agreed to this. The ordinary troops saw it was a very good time to ignore lower officers and take themselves away from a most unpopular war with all the starvation, sickness, rain, and occasional infestations of hail, lightning, and wind.

“The gods themselves are against us,” opined one young soldier. “We have offended against nature itself when our goddess brought in the long winter, and we did not protest it. I am going home to atone by praying abjectly to the weather gods to forgive us for her sins and let us live our lives in peace.”

Harkon was hit by a number of prayers as others followed the young soldier’s suggestion, and as they departed as a group, drove a deer into their path to kill and eat, burning the glyphs of storm and motion onto its side so they knew it was a gift.

They were his devoted worshippers.

He did not mention this to his friends in case they teased him about going soft. But Alethos embraced him.

“Well done,” he said.

When the generals discovered that they had lost most of their army they were much concerned.

“I think we bow to the inevitable and go home,” said one. “The witch who called herself high priestess died at some point, so we don’t have anyone to pretend religious punishment for us.”

This seemed a good idea to those who gave only lip service; and those who believed went along with their fellows for fear of being mocked.

 

destiny's queen 10

 

Chapter 10

 

“Oh, mighty Skyhorse, lord of thunder, rescue me and my maid and the sixteen virgins to be violated from an unwanted wedding,” said Tallys.

There was a rumble of thunder.

“I... surely not...” said Kissia, clinging to Tallys.

A loud crack, the smell of ozone, and a blond, bearded warrior appeared in Tallys’s bedroom.

“As you thought of others, your prayer is answered,” said Harkon. “But you will have to be kept secret and safe until we’re ready. Take my hands. Uh... did you pack?”

“No,” said Tallys.

“Oh, for goodness sake! Pack quickly, both of you, simple clothes, you don’t want to smell for a lack of changes.”

Kissia packed quickly, more hindered than helped by Tallys.

“Monthly cloths,” said Harkon.

Kissia blushed, and packed them.

“Right. Hold on,” said Harkon, and zapped them back to Sjurgi’s inner courtyard.

“Find them some rooms, and make sure nobody sees them who isn’t one of us,” said Harkon.

“But... but you’re Thea Drex!” said Tallys, trembling.

“Not any more; I’ve gone back to being Sjurgi, which is who I was born,” said Sjurgi. “Come along! I don’t think I have anyone disloyal, but your mother would pay much for your whereabouts, and we need to change your appearance quickly.”

Tallys and Kissia let themselves be led off meekly.

“I wonder if we should send them to Mesolimnos,” said Ralthur.

“No; I have the feeling we will need Tallys to see what really goes on, and to be ready to take over when we win,” said Harkon.

 

 

“Isn’t rescuing the slaves who are to be deflowered more important than changing my appearance?” demanded Tallys. Sjurgi was cutting her hair ruthlessly, and dying it. Unlike the Empress, who was a strawberry blonde, Tallys had ginger hair, not dark enough auburn to be the prized ‘blood hair,’ but distinctive for all that.

“We had already been planning on that; you and Kissia are, as you might say, an extra bargain,” said Sjurgi.

“Well, what are you going to do about them? I demand to know!” Tallys stamped her feet.

She found herself upended over Sjurgi’s lap and received two sharp rebukes where Sjurgi thought it would do most good.

“You have no need to know,” said Sjurgi. “Do not act the spoilt brat to me, miss.”

“Nobody has ever struck me, before!” gasped Tallys. “Kissia is my whipping maid!”

“And is that fair?” asked Sjurgi.

“No,” said Tallys. “I try not to get her into trouble, but I don’t understand why I shouldn’t be told. I care that they are going to be hurt over me. And that isn’t right.”

“You have the right instincts; but for now, you must live with being kept in the dark. Because you might let something slip by accident; we don’t know you, and don’t know how good you are at keeping secrets,” said Sjurgi. “And because you demanded most rudely of me.”

“But... but I am a princess!” said Tallys.

“Means nothing to me; I’m a hero of Alethos, which means I’ve earned respect, not expecting to get it merely for being squeezed out between the august thighs of your bitch of a mother,” said Sjurgi.

Tallys gaped.

“I... I have always been treated with respect,” she said.

“No, you have always been treated with circumspection because you can cause trouble for others,” said Sjurgi. “If you want to learn to be free, you will have to work your way up like everyone else. And, by the way, Kissia, do you want to resume your former name?”

“Yes,” said Kissia. “I am Vanda.”

Sjurgi frowned.

“Do you have an elder sister named Svargia? I believe she was born to the tribe of the deer, though she is also adopted to the tribe of the wild falcons.”

“Yes, I do!” said Vanda. “I am tribe of the deer.”

“Then you are as kindred to me,” said Sjurgi. “Svargia is a dear sword-sister of mine, and we stood shoulder to shoulder with her adopted kindred, Vulk and Polia to tear down the moonwolf;  Vulk has assumed his place, with shifters replacing lycoids, even as my brother has taken on the duties of the god of storms, who was slain by the wolf. You need to know this; but I ask you both not to speak of it, as we do not want the worshippers of Ombros the Skyhorse to despair at his death.”

“I... we appear to be in very exalted company,” said Tallys. “I do not know the protocols.”

“We work on the protocol of being polite to everyone except enemies,” said Sjurgi, dryly. “And to me, you rank slightly below Vanda, since she’s kin of my kin. Get used to it.”

“I...” Tallys shut her mouth with a snap, containing a burst of temper.

“Good girl,” said Sjurgi.

 

Julus Helio sent for Fadabius and Aquilix. He looked as if he had aged several years, and his clothes hung limply on him.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “The empress’s daughter, Princess Tallys, has been kidnapped, possibly by plainsmen, as her plainswoman slave has vanished with her.”

“Are you certain it was a kidnapping?” asked Harkon.

“Well, what else can it be, Aquilix?” asked Julus.

“I heard the bridegroom is supposed to be Ogeron Cass,” rumbled Harkon.

“Yes, what of it? He’s a general, thirty years old, good looking, excellent family,” said Julus.

“Don’t you think that a very young girl might find thirty to be old?” said Harkon. “And she’s bound to think he’s older than he is, since he’s her mother’s lover.  I find that sort of relationship rather disturbing as a suitor for a young girl.”

Julus paled.

“Surely she cannot have run away?” he gasped. “Where would she go?”

Harkon shook his head, sadly. “I doubt a tenderly reared princess would get very far, unless she had help from without. There are always predators at night. Young girls are favoured prey of bloodsuckers, who are welcome in our city as worshippers of the goddess’s daughter. I’ve pulled a few out of the river in my time. By that time, their original rank is no longer obvious, once they’ve been exsanguinated into husks. The... damage... where the bloodsuckers sate their lust as well is usually extensive.”

“Oh, goddess!” said Julus, paling. “But... but maybe she has been kidnapped? Isn’t it possible?”

“It is,” said Ralthur. “And we will certainly keep our noses to the ground. I fear we’ve been concentrating our finest efforts on uncovering dissidents. So, does she have any distinguishing mark, lest the sad fact arise of finding her body?”

“Divert  all your efforts to finding Princess Tallys,” said Julus. “As far as I know there is no distinguishing mark... a princess cannot have a blemish. She has distinctive rust-coloured hair.  Just... find her. And make sure she is alive.”

“You do not wish people to know she is missing, but suppose it were to be released that she celebrates her wedding in true Trickster fashion by hiding in plain sight, and a reward of five thousand moons is offered if she is correctly identified, and brought to a royal guard post?” suggested Harkon. Julus looked horrified for a moment, and then cunning.

“You know, that’s actually quite brilliant,” he said. “Go and see to it.”

“As you command,” said Harkon, bowing. They left; and exchanged a savage grin.

The royal guard was about to get sightings of the royal runaway in random places that would keep them running about like headless chickens, freeing Harkon and Ralthur to operate wherever they pleased. And all kinds of imposters would be presented; and if they suffered for it, well, the wages of greed were never pretty.

“Mind, if I was Julus, I’d hang on to any imposters,” said Ralthur. “Once they fail to find her, they will want a bride on the wedding day, or lose a massive amount of face. And she only has to bear a superficial  likeness, for how many people have seen her close up or for long?”

“Good point,” said Harkon.

 

oOoOo

 

“And supposing someone sees me and reports me?” asked Tallys, in a panic.

“That’s why you are learning to move and walk like a boy so it never occurs to anyone,” said Sjurgi.  “Learn well, and you will be fine.”

 

oOoOo

 

Deathday could not come soon enough for the conspirators.

Naturally, they went to worship with their bodyguard; that their worship was not sincerely directed at Thanus would not be noticed in a congregation whose worship was mostly for the reason of getting on in their military career. As a group of heroes, they were able to act as their own temple, and almost openly worship Alethos. Harkon stood hard on Dróg’s foot when the trógling had to fight a fit of the giggles. He swiftly got it under control; he was used to schooling emotions.

And Harkon, Ralthur, and Sjurgi slipped out as the godplane was opened for the celebrants to enter and experience their god, slipping down into the subterranean parts of the temple which Harkon had once had to learn about from Kaz.

One of the trógling team was waiting, impatiently, to usher them into the sewers, through a neat hole.

“If you take too long, I’ll close it up, my lord,” he said.

“Yes, obviously,” said Harkon. “Good man. Alethos be with you.”

They followed the sewers to the basement of the temple to Selen, where another trógling grinned savagely.

“Let them have it,” he said. 

“We will,” said Harkon.

First things must be accomplished first, and the holding cells of the girls rounded up for deflowering must be discovered. Sjurgi knew where holding cells might be found; for penitents of the faith, usually, as well as political prisoners. It was a surprise to find four older girls held in separate cells.

“Don’t make a noise, we’re here to rescue you,” said Sjurgi. “Why are you being held separately?”

“Because we older ones planned to spoil the ceremony by deflowering everyone as gently as possible,” said one of the girls. “It wouldn’t stop them hurting us but at least it would be inauspicious.”

“Heh, you have a future ahead of you as a rebel,” said Sjurgi. “Come on, quickly, and help with the little ones. We have some Thorns to kill.”

“I hope they die hard,” said the girl. “They’ve been describing what they intended.”

“They’ll die as hard as we can make it,” said Sjurgi, who was planning on making her fatal wounds land low down.

It would stand as well for the so-called lovers she had had to take to escape the circus.

Nobody was looking for intruders; and the girls, some of them sobbing in fear, were hastily escorted to the trógling at the way out.

“I’ll close up, and come back for you,” he said.

Harkon nodded.

Now they headed for the basement temple of Aima, which housed the ‘Thorns’ and other members of the blood cult. Even in the deliberately ecumenical Selenite empire, bloodsuckers were not liked, and so their temple was hidden within the body of the overarching temple to Selen.  And it being Deathday, they were at their own worship.

The Alethosi fell on them. They all considered the worship of undead to be a blasphemous travesty of the gift of death. The celebrants died where they stood, some of them scarcely realising what had happened, and Harkon, shedding thunderbolts involuntarily, advanced on Aima, whose presence was partly in the temple with the opened godplane.

The goddess fled rapidly back to the lunarsphere, but not before Harkon managed to throw a thunderbolt at her retreating presence.

“Take that, you bitch,” he said.

“And now she will report to her mother, and they’ll know Aquilix has gone rogue,” worried Sjurgi.

“She didn’t see Aquilix,” said Ralthur. “She saw Ombros, somehow healed of what damage her brother did; and she is afraid.”

“That’s the way I like it,” grunted Harkon. “We need to deal with these damned bodies, and the bound spirit here and torch the place so they can’t be made into nekrosti.”

“I handled the priest,” said Ralthur. “My first bloodsucker.”

“I doubt it’ll be your last,” said Harkon. Magical fire consumed the bodies, and the three heroes shredded the guardian spirit to make reconsecrating the temple harder.

“That will do for today,” said Harkon, leading them back to where the laconic trógling had returned, after delivering the rescued girls to a safe house.

And then they returned to the temple of Thanus, and the trógling shut up the tunnels and slipped away; and Fadabius, Aquilix, and Thea might leave the temple openly, without anyone being any the wiser to their excursion.

The news broke in panic before it could be suppressed, of course.

Fadabius and Aquilix went to see Julus Helio.

“I have heard that the princess fled to a lover who is a plainsman, who invoked the wildstorm Skyhorse to spoil the ceremony so that no wedding could take place,” said Harkon, who had left it to Vanda to come up with a tale to explain all, which meant that he could truthfully say that he had heard this.

There might be a backlash on plainsmen; but identifying which clan to blame was not going to be easy, and indiscriminate punitive action would only stir up the rebellious plainsmen more.

More patrols were sent out to look for the princess; which would also offend the plainsmen.

Harkon felt he could live with that.

 

Days passed, and the ‘joke’ being played by the princess was declared to be over; and a princess of sorts was presented to wave to the crowd. The hair was more or less the right colour.

And the guard rounded up young girls from the poor of the city to be the sacrificial virgins. Rumour that the Thorns were dead had spread; and that they were to be replaced by exemplary guards. It might be amusing to note how many guards were deliberately slovenly to get out of it, but it was also worrying.

“This time, I take the temple down,” said Harkon. “And we need to spread the word that girls who are not slaves were taken; I suspect most good burghers of the city could care less about slaves, but once it’s hinted that next will be the artisans, and then the sub-patricians....”

“Rumours to be spread in the market place need good middle class women, shopping,” said Sjurgi.

“We must have some women who aren’t babes able to assume that guise,” said Harkon. “If not, we can collect a few.”

“And some young girls who are well dressed, whispering to their fellows,” suggested Vanda.

The campaign of whispers was started; and this time, Harkon, Ralthur, and Sjurgi went directly to the temple of Selen to remove the frightened girls who had been picked, Sjurgi taking them back whilst Harkon and Ralthur moved purposefully through the temple, killing any glyph-rank they encountered, and culminating with Harkon bursting up through the roof, dragging a whirlwind behind him, and showering lightning bolts, until the main buildings of the temple to Selen was destroyed.

Meanwhile, their cultivated agitators were  busy leading a popular uprising. Those royal guard who hated the idea of becoming thorns, even if they had never protested the custom before, joined with the populace.

Harkon placed Tallys into the hands of Sardio SubDoxus. He could reveal her as a new leader when it seemed auspicious.

“Our work here is done, I think,” he said.

“We can always ferment unrest in other cities another time,” agreed Ralthur.

They left, with Firri, Vanda and any others who wanted to go with them. The latest tranche of girls had been restored to their families, so that left only a few younger slaves not old enough to be part of the freedom fighters yet.

 

Destiny's queen 9

 

Chapter 9

 

Being a god was, thought Harkon, ridiculously busy. Powering the excess required for a mortal to cast a glyph-spell was relatively easy, and did not take much concentration, but listening to the whining, and the bad poetry as his new worshippers confronted enemies was tedious and irritating.

Harkon waited for Windsday, for the formalised worship on the solar plane.

“Henceforth, no poetry is required,” he said. “The war is too intense. Convert, ignore, or kill, depending on the threat level you meet. Offer removal of chaos taints; I’ll follow through. I don’t really care about you confronting some poor peasant who has been turned into a lycoid; report it to me for him to be cured. Only kill him if he doesn’t want to be cured. It’s time to actually fight the real enemy not worry about the sort of chaos which is not an outright supporter of Selen and her filthy brood.  The Moon Wolf has been replaced, and a shifter is now stealing the lycoids to become disease-free shifters. Do what you can to help.”

“Why don’t we just kill them?”

It was Erippion Windblown.

Of course it was Erippion Windblown.

“Because, you idiot, if you kill an enemy that’s one enemy down. If you make him into a friend, that’s not just one enemy down but one friend up,” said Harkon.

Erippion took being called an idiot by his god remarkably well; but then, Ombros was rather direct.

Harkon waited for the other sandal to drop, and for Erippion to recognise him, having known Harkon for many years; but apparently Erippion saw what he expected to see.

Harkon complained to Alethos.

“I’m sure I’d notice if you weren’t you,” he said.

“Beloved brother, of course you would,” said Alethos. “You’d notice because we are close, and also your glyph of truth would tell you something was wrong.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” he went on. “The majority of my worshippers wouldn’t notice what I am, because most give little more than lip service, to gain the training, at least, those of initiate level and some glyph-lords. Feel sorry for Thanus; there is a movement amongst the patrician warriors who give him nominal worship, glyph-lords or no, that believe that their sacrificial magic is taken by the priests, and it is the priests who provide fancier magic using it, as they don’t believe in gods at all.”

Harkon gasped in horror.

“Surely such sacrifices will be sloppy and not connect properly with Thanus?” he asked.

Alethos chuckled, wickedly.

“I could not possibly suggest to your sister that she might go through every temple of Thanus to absorb loose power which has not been properly assimilated,” he said. “But every little will help when she goes to confront Thanus, as she must do at the proper time.”

Harkon sniggered.

He felt much better.

Ombros’s worshippers might not be the sharpest sticks in the bundle, but they were at least devout. Some went beyond devout into downright zealotry; but that could be addressed. And the crazier ones would probably die fighting Selenites.

 

oOoOo

 

“Daze! Did you see what they did?” screamed Selen. “One minute I was laughing over how our son killed Ombros, and he fell to the ground, with Lycos going to rip out his abilities and become the Stormwolf; and the next minute, that flat-chested idiot, Thyella was there with a load of the rag, tag and bobtail Alethos keeps about him, and they killed Lycos! And his most loyal priests! What happened? The prophecy said he would be the Stormwolf! Do something! Undo it! Make it right!” she sobbed in real fear.

“The prophecy said that when the thunderer called for a reckoning, if the blood-moon aided the moon-wolf, the moon-wolf would become the Stormwolf, and none should stand before him,” said Daze. “You stupid woman! You let Lycos deal with Ombros by himself, didn’t you?”

“But... but I thought he did not need me!” cried Selen. “You know how he is if people interfere in his prey... how he was, I mean.”

“You should have softened Ombros up before calling in Lycos,” scolded Daze. “And then you should have gone to Lycos’s aid on the ground.”

“I... I did not know they could kill him so fast! I was answering other prayers!” said Selen. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“It was your fault,” said Daze. “Now you only have Aima to guard you, and she spends most of her time shagging her bloodsuckers.”

There were very few female bloodsuckers; Aima liked her priesthood available to entertain her.

Selen cried in earnest.

She was suddenly afraid.

 

oOoOo

 

Slipping up to the lunarsphere whilst Selen was preoccupied was easier for Kaz, especially as she was visiting another lunar deity.

“You’re the trógling they say will heal me and take away the curse; you don’t look like much,” humphed the huddled figure of the moon, still beautiful in her ravaged state, a soft glow to her blue-black skin and shining silver hair, though her six breasts wept pus.

“We need to co-ordinate our efforts, Rogaz,” said Kaz. “We are moving into the endgame now. My brother-in-arms, Volk, has defeated Lycos and taken his powers, in order to cure the lycoids. I need you to weaken Daze for me.”

“How can I do that?”

“Since the creation of tróglings, those not specifically welcomed into your worship or that of other toróg gods, have been his to feed on, and to take to his corner of twisted godsphere, to enhance his power. I purpose to free all those souls, but in the meantime, if you tell your priestesses that they should inform their tróglings that they are free to worship the Daykaz, the mother of trógling, I will get their worship and power to help me against Daze,” said Kaz. “In due course, I will lead those who want to leave to new lands, once your own fertility is regained. You and I will have to take down Selen together, and destroy her ritually, to assimilate her power into yourself. And it must be while her power is full, with the full moon, or you will also be tied to waxing and waning as she is.”

“I would have accepted that as an improvement, but I prefer a full healing,” said Rogaz, hungrily. “What will happen to my children?”

“I have spoken with Fate,” said Kaz. “If all is done correctly, things will not be entirely as they were before, as the web of fate moves on; but births of trógling and greater toróg will cease, and darklings will give rise to some high toróg, and more who have four or even six breasts amongst the darkling numbers. High toróg will always breed true; and over time it may be that Darklings die out, but their numbers are needed to restore a population of high toróg.”

Rogaz nodded.

“That seems reasonable,” she said. “I will heal, and so will my children. I can live with it taking a while; my darklings have been loyal.”

“It may be that fate has a purpose for them, also, as your envoys to humans, and traders,” said Kaz. “Your daughter, Hraazaz, finds trading harder now she has transitioned to be a high toróg, though it’s a price she willingly pays, obviously. We have struck a friendship, and her adoptive daughter is close to my own daughter. I think that Hraazaz will take on the healing aspect of your pantheon when she has gone beyond herodom.”

“I owe you for aiding her achieve her potential,” said Rogaz, grudgingly.

“We had parted neutrally; and we had a common foe,” said Kaz. “It was needed for us to work together, and that we have become friends is a pleasant outcome. I know you have not welcomed my arrival, but perhaps you and I might become cordial allies?”

“I did not understand who you were when I told your grandmother that you would have to die,” admitted Rogaz. “I was afraid you would disrupt the coming of the promised Daykaz. It never occurred to me that a trógling could be the promised one.”

“Isn’t it delicious?” said Kaz. “Selen and Daze still have not realised it, and think it might be my daughter, but they still do not know that Death’s beloved is a trógling.”

“Fate chose you wisely; I see that, now,” said Rogaz. “I will work with you.”

 

oOoOo

 

Firri all but flew back into the house and cast herself on Sjurgi, in Harkon’s form.

“What is it? Who has hurt you?” asked Sjurgi, brusquely, holding the child.

“The empress’s oldest daughter is getting married,” said Firri, her teeth chattering. “I was stopped in the street because of being likely to be a virgin at my age....”

“It is a good thing Harkon isn’t here,” said Ralthur. “I rather think he’d react violently....”

“It’s time someone reacted violently,” said Sjurgi.  “Harkon, my brother! We need your stormforce here.”

Harkon arrived with a moderately quiet rumble of thunder, brushing away hailstones and lightning bolts in irritation.

“Is it important?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Sjurgi, going back to her usual appearance. “Firri ran home in terror, having been stopped, because Princess Tallys is getting married.”

Harkon frowned.

“I don’t understand the cause and effect there,” he said.

“When a patrician girl is married, as many virgins as she has years of life have their maidenheads sacrificed, so their sufferings in blood grant her fertility. The temple Thorns are contracted to... to pierce rosebuds, and to be as rough as possible to make as much blood as possible; some of them are initiates of Aima, and sometimes younger virgins die from the damage,” said Sjurgi. “And they are not particular about them being of nubile age.”

The house shook with thunder, before Harkon got it under control.

“This stops now,” said Harkon.

“Yes, but we need to be clever about it; don’t get your head filled with the winds of Ombros,” said Ralthur.

Harkon shook his head as if to clear it.

“I want to make a whirlwind to flatten her temples,” he said.

“Of course you do, but that flattens the virgins, too,” said Sjurgi. “Be more subtle.”

“Fine. We go to the temple to worship, cloaked until we are within, kill everyone except the girls, and take them out via thunderbolt,” said Harkon.

“Half right,” said Ralthur. “We get a map of the storm drains and sewers, and Dróg’s team set us up a tunnel from the basement, and close it up after we’ve led the girls out.”

“Too much of Ombros in my head,” said Harkon. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Of course you will, brother,” said Sjurgi. “Now, do you have a map of the drains?”

“Of course; Dróg found us a former miner, and I diced for his ownership. Fate is fond of me, so I won,” said Harkon. “Velg is also educated and can draw maps. He’s been working on mapping all the drains in the city, and colour coded over the size you need to be to get through them.”

“You can trust him?”

“I used truthsense on him,” said Harkon. “And got his mate out too, so that he could not be pressured nor coerced.”

“Wise,” said Sjurgi.

“Oh, there’s a movement amongst ranking Selenites who worship for form’s sake, and of Thanus too, but do not really believe in gods. Apparently, there is spare power sitting around to absorb; Alethos suggested you might take it.”

“Why don’t we go to the temple of Thanus, and have Velg open a way into the sewers to go to the temple of Selen? That way we need not be the last people seen to enter,” said Sjurgi.

“I like it,” said Ralthur.

“Or, why don’t we just go via the drains in the first case?” said Harkon.

“Because if we are seen in the temple of Thanus on Deathday, we would not be elsewhere,” said Ralthur. “We have enough knowledge of glyphs to set up simulacra to be noticed whilst we slip out; and we return to join the congregation.”

“That should work,” said Harkon.

 

oOoOo

 

Tallys had tried logic; then she had tried a tantrum; then she tried crying. That usually got round her father; but of course, her father had no real power in the household at all. Empress Auralia was the power in the palace, and it was her decree that Tallys should marry Ogeron Cass, and restore his status. Tallys hated Cass; she knew he was her mother’s lover, and this disgusted her more than the thought that he was twelve years older than she was.  That could have been worse; she could have been sold to some king of a client state to cement relations, some crusty old warrior. But she considered Ogeron Cass slimy. Consequently, she was crying on her bed, hating the idea and unable to think of any way of avoiding marriage.

Tallys rolled over in bed, her tears cried out. She got up and washed her face. She summoned Kissia, her favourite slave, who studied with her to make sure she learned, as Kissia was whipped if Tallys misbehaved, or failed to learn. Tallys did her best to make sure Kissia was not whipped.

“I want to run away,” said Tallys. “But I don’t know how to live outside the palace.”

Kissia was a girl of the plains, who was very down to earth.

“You won’t manage for one moment to pretend to be one of the commons,” she said. “You walk like you own the place.”

“Well, I need to do something quickly,” said Tallys.

Kissia threw up her hands.

“You’re as helpless as a kitten,” she said. “Oh, I know you’ve had sword lessons; maybe you could dress as a page boy, but that only gets you out, it doesn’t help you live. You might just as well pray to the Skyhorse to be rescued from an intolerable fate.”

“Well, then, I shall,” said Tallys. “I don’t see why he is called evil; storms happen because storms happen, and wind is wind. Without wind and rain, farming doesn’t happen.”

“You’re serious,” said Kissia.

“I hate my mother,” said Tallys. “I don’t much care about any gods; and I hate the idea that my fertility is to be ensured by an act of cruelty to sixteen other girls some of them younger than me. I shall ask the Skyhorse to rescue them, too. Show me how to pray to him,”

Kissia sighed, and hoped they would not get caught.

 

“Harkon! Listen very carefully to a prayer,” said Moraia, goddess of Fate.