death's knight 20

 sorry to be late, I could not sleep for ages, it was so hot. 

Chapter 20

 

 

Thyella and Phaedros had left Kaz, Rynn, and Hraazaz when they emerged from the temple.

“Harkon needs us to add advocacy,” said Thyella. “And he’s hurt so I want to go to him.”

“It’s a routine journey back to Mesolimnos,” said Kaz. “Though, I must say, heroic travel would be useful.”

“You need to concentrate on lifting your body with your kormajeia and carrying it,” said Thyella. “It’s a question of practice.”

“And I am relying on Thyella, because I haven’t mastered it yet,” said Phaedros.

Kaz did not say so, but she hoped she would be able to manage things a little more quietly than Thyella.

“Dear one, I suspect you should consider practising merging with shadows, and moving from shadow to shadow,” said Alethos.

“Good idea,” said Kaz. “I will doubtless exhaust myself, however.”

“There was a plaintive request not quite made in that.”

“I will want a nice Alethos-shaped cushion to sleep on and have nice dreams.”

 

oOoOo

 

 

Thea Drex was not a woman who believed in dreams, especially not the sort of lustful dreams for unattainable men which entertain many a girl through her puberty. Thea had foresworn men to turn herself into a fighting machine for her goddess, and when she looked at a man, it was to assess his ability as a soldier under her command. She had slept with such men as made her path easier, and who could get her into a position where she might prove her worth on her own merits, and they had an unfortunate propensity for dying after she had moved on. This was not entirely Thea’s fault; she did not go out of her way to kill them, at least, not after the first two, whose bedroom activities had disgusted her so much that she wanted to obliterate them. Thea, however, carried an unfortunate chaos taint of being bad luck. Bad luck never fell to her, but it did blight those to whom she was close. It had taught Thea not to ever become fond of anyone, and to subjugate any carnal needs in her duty.

Thea was, therefore, unaccustomed to waking up panting and needy from the dream about the handsome warrior, with the exotic features of the far north. A broad, muscular man, who carried his musculature well, being tall, with blue eyes accustomed to laughing, and neatly cut beard and moustaches, not wild like most northerners, but tamed as many noblemen of her own kind trimmed their face furniture. He was a man who one might see was accustomed to command, and a momentary aberration of thought had Thea wondering whether he could command her.

Thea was herself one of the northern folk by birth, brought to the empire as a child slave, and earning her way up in the world as a gladiatrix and then general, earning a second name. This dream was some half-forgotten memory and of no account. The Empire was a place where even slaves might rise, if they were clever and determined, and gave themselves to the worship of the red moon. Thea was both clever and determined; and could remember little of the gods of her ancestors.

She put the dream to one side, and rose to perform her usual exercises; and worked on banishing the handsome face when it intruded on her thoughts.

There was trouble in the city states and it was time for the empire to put them down properly. She studied the map of the city which had instigated most trouble, Mesolimnos.  The main map merely showed it to be on a river between two lakes, which should not have caused a problem at all to the besiegers, but a runner had returned with a map drawn using the familiar spirit of Allenna Dren.  Such things were never entirely satisfactory as spirits saw in a different way, but it was easy to see that a siege was close on impossible, since the city stood not on the river, but on a number of islands which lay in a braided waterway, all joined by broad, heavy bridges.

They would have to build or requisition enough ships to make an effective watergate above and below stream of the city as well as get troops round to the west of it.

What Allenna Dren’s familiar could not see were that the heavy bridges also carried sewer tunnels, as the city fathers of Mesolimnos had provided for the disposal of sewerage into the swamp, rather than into the river; and that as well, there were huge numbers of storm drains to deal with the rain on low-lying islands, and that the storm drains ran to secondary water courses rather than adding to the spate of the river on which the city ran. Though the Solosi were in charge of law, it had been the military engineers of the Alethosi who had built the city, including lock gates, run-off pools, emergency water venting channels, and a defensive design which was second nature.  Adding the trógling familiarity with underground places was a bonus. And there were fewer islands than there had been, since spoil from the mines in the mountains of Kyrios had been used to build up foundations and build land, and some of the broad streets of the city had once been bridges. And trógling found uses for the caissons of their one time piers, and merged stone to keep water from seeping into the spaces left where once had been arches.

“Maybe in winter, when it ices up,” muttered Thea. The runner had also brought the unpalatable news that half the besiegers were suffering the fever and ague from the bad marsh air; but winter, too, would cure that.  And there was a prophecy about a long winter.

 

oOoOo

 

Selen chuckled as she joined her brother.

“You stink of that barbarian god,” complained Daze. “What has he got that I do not?”

“Dominion over winds and clouds,” said Selen. “Oh, grow up! I took what I needed, nothing more. I absorbed that silly little bitch of an ice spirit, and took her powers, but I can’t use them fully save locally. I used her appearance to gain his seed My daughter with Ombros will be able to spread cold and ice even as far as Mesolimnos, and keep it there.”

“But how long will we have to wait?”

“Patience! You know that the children of major gods grow fast; look at that little idiot, Phaedros, whose development you stunted; I wager few of his companions know he is only seven years old, and with chaos, I can speed things up. She will be born on the waxing moon this month and be able to help this very winter with wild childhood talent. If she is ill-treated she will react with producing snow and cold. I sense that this solstice will be significant.”

 

oOoOo

 

The Alethosi could do little but prepare for the likelihood of a more sustained siege. Chrysandion Lightspear, Lightfather of Solos, scoffed at first, but Harkon had proved reliable, so he listened, looked at maps Harkon showed him, frowned, and ordered that outlying farmers be brought into the city with their produce and stock for the winter, housing them on the banks of the Red River, inside the stockade thrown up in case of enemy incursion. Many hands willingly built housing for them, and the Solosi took charge of one seventh of all grains, to be held and rationed as needed, buying it from temple funds. It had been a good year for crops, and the farmers were glad to get a fixed rate when they had feared a glut rate; and Harkon was not alone in thanking Zea for her bounty and praying devout thanks to her at the harvest festival.

“We have prophecies too,” said Chrysandion. “This one was ‘make the most of Zea’s bounty for you know not when you will need it; let all rejoice when the lost daughter returns, and know that it is time to garner one seventh of all.”

“Well, that’s clear enough,” said Harkon. “Mycota is returned from the underworld, and restored to her father,  so she’s the lost daughter returning.  I’m going to take some watermen down to the swamp away from the sewerage and gather cat-tails; you can dry the root and make it into a nutritious flour, or bake it as a vegetable.  And better whilst it’s fully flavoured and fat, than half withered when we really need them towards spring.”

“You really do move in some exalted company,” said Chrysandion. He sounded half wistful.

“And we were on our way to the sun court seconds ahead of Tor himself, and I was not displeased to have missed him,” said Harkon.

 

Harkon was much relieved when Protasion led his party, including the new tróglings, into the city, having sailed straight down the lake.

“Those high toróg – who were they?” demanded Protasion. “None of the little guys is able to give me a coherent answer.”

“Remember when the Toróg tried to heal the first curse, which produced only great toróg, because their ceremony involved pre-curse high toróg women all of one clan being impregnated by a single high toróg who serviced his sisters and cousins? Well, that was one of them. Or it may have been both, and because they were twins they were symbolically one. The toróg don’t talk about it, and small wonder. I don’t know if they were the last surviving male high toróg, but if they were, I’m not about to lose any sleep over us having killed them.”

“I can’t believe I managed to wound one!” said Protasion.

“Oh, you’re nicely on the hero path yourself,” said Harkon. He thought, rather than saying, that it would be just as well to have several near-heroes, if Selen sent her heroine, Thea Drex, against the city states. “And I know what to do.  I need Thyella.”

“Yes, Harkon, but do get a room,” said Protasion.

“Oy!” said Harkon. “I need her tactically.”

Thyella appeared at Harkon’s side with a light fizzle.

“Are we going spying?” she asked.

“No, well, yes, but I need to go and see a man called Kurihor,” said Harkon.

“I know him. He’s a leader of leaders amongst the plainsfolk,” said Thyella.

“Can you drop me down in front of him?” asked Harkon.

“If you wish,” said Thyella. “It may be an odd conversation, mind you; they think I’m male.”

“Which is why I suggested you dropping me in front of him, not trying to explain who you are,” said Harkon. “I want to offer him a couple of trógling miners to make underground caches for their grain to hide it from the Selenites.”

“If they set fire to the grass – or I do with a storm and lightning strike – they can claim their grain burned,” said Thyella.

“Brilliant,” said Harkon.

 

oOoOo

 

Kurihor jumped when a sizzling lightning bolt landed in front of him and became a figure he recognised.

“Harkon? I thought you were Alethosi, not with the Sky Horse,” said the rebel chief.

“I have an alliance with Pieran,” said Harkon.  “I come with a suggestion and a proposal.”

“Speak; I am listening,” said Kurihor.

“The empire is going to be marching men around both sides of the great lake,” said Harkon. “They’ll expect to live of your people’s food.”

“We can only carry so much as we melt into hidden valleys,” said Kurihor, “But I thank you for the warning.”

“Wait; if I provide you with trógling miners who will create underground caches for grain and hay, and some passages for escape, will you permit the firing of the plains to deny fodder to the Selenite army?”

“Permit? I’ll light fires myself,” said Kurihor. “Can this really be done?”

“Let me consecrate a temple to Alethos, and you will have your trógling,” said Harkon. He had prayed, and Alethos had been willing to permit Kaz to lead trógling, holding her hands, to use the hero’s path between temples.

It was why the Selenite temples in Mesolimnos had been formally desecrated, their bound spirits driven off or destroyed, as soon as they had been expelled for the second time. There was no room for Thea Drex to turn up in the middle of the city. Battling the powerful bound spirits of temple guardians had been a job for those questing for herodom; and to the chagrin of the Solosians, it had been a team of dedicated Alethosi who had taken on the job, lifting more than one of them closer to their goal in ripping the spirits for their power and glyphic association, to deny them to the enemy.

 

“Right; where do you want it?” asked Kurihor.

“Somewhere the Selenites don’t go?” said Harkon.

“Oh, a god of death will not mind our burial grounds,” said Kurihor. “Come this way.”

There were spirits guarding the place of the dead; and Harkon nodded to them respectfully. He pegged out the shape of the death glyph and dug out the shape, cutting his palm to bleed at each point, and setting the iron sword he had brought for that purpose at the centre.

“Let there be a structure put over this, where trógling can live when they are not setting up your caches,” he said. “I have volunteers who will ride with your people to other clans and do the same for them, across the plain from the trade road to the lake.”

“And when will they come?” asked Kurihor.

“As soon as I go back and begin to collect them,” said Harkon, calmly, who knew with certainty that he could walk the hero’s path.

“Not that sassy one, please,” said Kurihor.

“She will bring some, but she has her own duties,” said Harkon.

He saluted Kurihor, and walked through the sword embedded in the ground, and out into his own temple’s sanctum.

“I do love you, Alethos,” he said.

“You are an excellent hero of mine,” said Alethos.

 

Shortly after, trógling in pairs started arriving on the plains, with veils over their faces to guard against the still bright autumnal sun. A female saluted Kurihor.

“We met when you weren’t crucified, though I don’t suppose you remember all of us who guided you,” she said. “I am Arrag, initiate of Alethos, and I am leading the miners here. Let us know where you want us and we will hide your grain. It’s up to you to hide your cattle and other lifestock.”

“The plains are folded, there are places to hide,” said Kurihor. “It’s carrying grain and fodder with us that is a problem.”

“You will have to send sorties to collect it,” said Arrag. “I cannot guarantee to dig passages before they are needed, but we will do our best. I also pay worship to Zog, lord of dirt and stone. He is part of the shadowsphere now.”

“You do as seems best,” said Kurihor, who had not followed a tenth of that and did not plan to get involved in godly politics in any case. “What pay do you want?”

“A place to live and our keep and needs until the job is done, and acceptance,” said Arrag.

“That is easily promised,” said Kurihor. “You have our gratitude for keeping our meagre crops from the enemy.”

 

Death's Knight 19

 

Chapter 19

 

 

Protasion helped Harkon out from under the maul, and went to help mop up the last darkling warrior.

“Burn... burn the bodies so they cannot be used as undead...” Harkon began, but Mycota was touching each body, and as he watched, they sprouted with fungi and were consumed. Protasion went through breaking up every bone left intact, the others copying him.

“Now, let us grab the trógling and go!” said Harkon.

“I will open a way through the mountains,” said Zog. “We must go to the sky; you will come, friend Harkon, and your fellows lead the trógling.”

The earth opened smoothly, with steps down.

“You have command, Protasion,” said Harkon.

“It goes all the way to that city; when you are inside I will close this end,” said Zog.

 

The tróglings had been tearing into food as if they were starving; which they were.

“Eat on the march; or we may be pursued,” said Kuros. They did as they were bid, following him down the steps and not asking where they had come from. Protasion saw everyone else down before following, with a salute to Zog. They had to trust the Toróg god, and follow his underground passage, and trust to it being good. Vulk growled; but went. Polia rode on him, her leg hurt by a spear, but that could be seen to later.

Zog closed the pathway, and took Mycota’s hand, and Harkon’s; and Harkon muttered the prayer to Pollonis that he had learned for the purpose to transfer them to the court of the sun-god, Solos. They were rising up through the air as the cave through which Mycota had come  disgorged more toróg of all kinds, and the hulking brutish figure of Tor himself.

Harkon shuddered. Not a moment too soon, and whether they were out of the frying pan and into the fire was yet to be determined. He wished he might have Protasion for his smooth law-trained tongue, but hopefully he could recall all the arguments.

And then they were all but falling on the floor in the divine throne room, and Harkon’s bad shoulder touched down, and he lost consciousness.

 

oOoOo

 

Harkon came to, with warmth in his shoulder, which felt a lot better.

“You have made an abrupt arrival, my associate priest,” said Pollonis, in some amusement.

“Just ahead of Tor,” said Harkon. “Where am I? Did mighty Solos hear and accept the petition of Mycota and Zog?”

“Zog knelt, and petitioned to be a lord of the shadows, and to be the consort of Mycota, and Mycota cried and said that she needed her family. Zog pointed out that she was no longer bound by the law having given not one but two lives in the persons of her daughtes to Tor. Thyella and Phaedros came to add their petitions, and Thyella pointed out that as clouds cast shade, and shade comes in many degrees, she was a part of the shadow court herself, as lightning could cast the darkest of shadows.  There are new powers in the world.”

“Kaz is of the opinion that when chaos is driven out, those gods who can adapt to change will live, and those who cannot will die,” said Harkon. “Thank you for healing me. I was a bit, er, mauled.”

“Killing the twins of Tor will be much celebrated,” said Pollonis. “You are becoming famed; but beware of my sister Zeandine; she has taken a dislike to you for your fair justice over that foolish competition and she is spiteful and rather limited. I fear she will be one of those who does not survive change,” he added, unhappily.

“Thank you for the warning, divine one,” said Harkon, who always felt he had to be more formal with the god of light than with Alethos, who was... well, a friend.

“Sleep; when you awaken, you will be back in your own bed,” said Pollonis. And Harkon felt himself overwhelmed by healing sleep. He sensed the presence of Thyella beside him as he drifted off, and snuggled into her arms.

 

oOoOo

 

Thyella and Phaedros left Kaz, Rynn, and Hraazaz when they emerged from the temple.

“Harkon needs us to add advocacy,” said Thyella. “And he’s hurt so I want to go to him.”

“It’s a routine journey back to Mesolimnos,” said Kaz. “Though, I must say, heroic travel would be useful.”

“You need to concentrate on lifting your body with your kormajeia and carrying it,” said Thyella. “It’s a question of practice.”

“And I am relying on Thyella, because I haven’t mastered it yet,” said Phaedros.

Kaz did not say so, but she hoped she would be able to manage things a little more quietly than Thyella.

“Dear one, I suspect you should consider practising merging with shadows, and moving from shadow to shadow,” said Alethos.

“Good idea,” said Kaz.

 

oOoOo

 

“Harkon disrespected us both,” said Zeandine to Secalia. “We should have our vengeance on him.”

“Shall we ask Thyella to help?” said Secalia. “She was really upset over being called a cheat.”

“No, I don’t like her,” said Zeandine. “And she’s been weird lately. You’d almost think she’s found a lover.”

Secalia giggled unkindly.

“What, Madam Stuck-up Celestial Virgin? Hardly. Who’d have her? Her hair is an absolute fright, frizzing out like it does when she’s all full of lightning, and so skinny! And abrasive! No man could possibly stand her.”

“No, you’re right,” said Zeandine. “And what could she add to help us plot? She doesn’t understand men as we do.”

“What had you in mind?” asked Secalia.

“Harkon spurned all my suggestions of lovers,” said Zeandine. “I offered him the woman said to be the most beautiful mortal in the world, Vaudia Cass, the betrothed of Ralthur Kron, until he changed sides. She has sweetly rounded limbs and a full bosom, and a perfect pear shaped body, with long dark hair and skin of the palest. I will give him to someone much less palatable; Thea Drex, heroine of the Selenite pantheon, who is all muscles, and tanned by being outside much of the time. I will give her dreams of Harkon and offer him to her as her sex slave. Imagine, a warrior being tied to a woman warrior who can give him orders, and who has no softness to rest against! It will be torture to him.”

Secalia gave a screaming little laugh.

“Oh, how clever!” she said. “But isn’t this woman on the chaos side, and aren’t we supposed to support the Alethosi?”

Zeandine shrugged. The amount of movement this engendered would have horrified Harkon, but many men found such movement mesmerising.

“Oh, politics; I stay out of such boring things,” she said. “Besides, it’s only one man and one woman; how can that make much difference? And in a hundred years they’ll likely be dead, anyway; mortals never live long enough to be much fun to play with.”

“How is she going to get hold of him?”

“I will have him given a lust potion so that when he sees her he is overcome by lust. It can only be countered by someone who is truly in love, and Harkon is too cold to love anyone.”

 

 

Unaware of the depth of Zeandine’s spite and malice towards him, Harkon awoke in his own temple in the arms of his wife. It seemed a very satisfactory reward to him for being wounded sorely in the rescue of her aunt.

Harkon preferred not to dwell too deeply on the relationships of the solar pantheon; Solos was known to play away, and Zea had had at least one lover in the begetting of sundry grain goddesses, and Harkon did not approve of such behaviour from a cult which supposedly upheld law and family values.

He reported to Pythas when he got up; and it must be said that this was only when his wife had made sure that every part of him was in working order.

It seemed rather mundane to be back in a besieged state, as the Selenites had abandoned Lazar Kron to captivity rather than withdraw; it would go harder on the Selenites as winter drew in. Though the two great lakes mitigated the severity of winter to some extent, they also made winters wetter, with many feet of snow possible, and wet fogs common. There were plenty of supplies in the city for those living there, and any who felt the cold, or were infirm were to be welcomed into any temple, where they might do some work according to their abilities to pay for somewhere to stay, food, and warmth. This generally involved things like peeling vegetables for stews, or sharpening weapons, mending leatherwork or such occupations if they had the knowledge. At the moment, most women in the city were busy preserving for the winter, busy with brine and vinegar.  There might be a shortage of honey for preserving fruits, because of the siege, but the warm late summer had seen many fruits being dried on racks and laid away in dry cellars. There was meat being salted down from herds brought in by the plainsfolk and fish from both lakes, and the besiegers could not stop either. It was amusing in a way. But of course, the Selenites would not let it rest like that, which was why provisioning was so important; Harkon knew what he would do in their shoes. First, he would have the current besieging garrison replaced with fresh troops, prepared for winter conditions, and able to dig in with plenty of supplies; and then he would send a second army across the plains, skirting the lakes rather than risking the marshes between the great lake and lakes Ena and Olo. That way, the siege could be extended to the currently ‘safe’ side of Mesolimnos. Or they might sail as far as Rhinopolis and then march round; sailing the length of the great lake would leave them on the same side of Mesolimnos without the ability to get through the Akerusian swamps to surround the city. And the greatest danger was in crossing the great plains where they would be harried by plainsfolk; and who might also negotiate the Drylands to harry the Selenite army.

“Sometimes I wish I could fly, so I could see the disposition of the enemy,” said Harkon, frustrated.

“But, darling, you can fly; you can cloud walk with me,” said Thyella. “Shall we go?”

Harkon stared, open mouthed.

“Darling, you’re brilliant,” he said.

“You know what I love about you, Harkon?” said Thyella. “You love me, not what I can do for you. It never occurred to you to use my powers.”

“Of course I love you,” said Harkon. “Being a goddess is neither here nor there; but I confess, it would be useful to go and spy.”

“Then, spy we shall.”

“Thyella, how deep can you drive a lightning bolt?”

“I don’t know; what had you in mind? I thought we weren’t to actually start the gods war that is fortold too early?”

“I was wondering if you could open a shaft to water below the drylands, to establish safe ways of travel only known to a few,” said Harkon.

“There are seasonal rivers, which mostly run underground,” said Thyella. “I should think I could reach water, and if we made love there enough to call rain, and got some vegetation growing, it ought to be stable enough. Did you want to do that instead of spying?”

“No, but it was something which occurred to me in passing,” said Harkon.  “We can do that when we have some spare time.”

“Shall we go, then?” said Thyella.

“Not yet,” said Harkon. “I don’t think that the Selenites have taken us seriously enough before to have heroes involved; but even assuming they sent messages by spirits back to Selenopolis, there has to have been discussion and decision about what’s going on. I want to know when they move, but I don’t feel that they have yet.”

“I could go and see if there were people on the move, and collect you when they are, as part of my job taking storms,” said Thyella.

“Well, if you would, I’d be grateful,” said Harkon.

Thyella kissed him.

“I’m so glad I can help,” she said. “I’d ask Ombros as well but I can’t guarantee he wouldn’t boast about it, and he’s been talking about a new lover; some ice spirit from the north.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” said Harkon. “Still, at least we can go and look; and if I was them, I’d sail as much of the way as I could.”

“You know about ships and shipping, don’t you?”

“I come from the Depression,” said Harkon. “There’s a large lake, and there’s the sea, and the depression is between them, where the earth was stretched as it bucked in agony after portions of the Blue Moon fell. My father was a fisherman.”

“What made you and your brother come south to the city states?” asked Thyella.

“Seeking revenge,” said Harkon. “Pirates raided, whilst my father, my brother, and I were out at sea. They seized our mother and sister; our mother’s body was left at the waterline, horribly cut about, and we found it when we returned. Of our sister, Sjurgi, there was no sign. We had to assume she had been sold into slavery, probably in the empire. We wept; and in spring, my brother, who had a spirit many times larger than his stunted body, declared that he was going to look for answers. He went off with a band of traders. He wrote twice, and then there was a kindly letter from Pythas, about how he died bravely. He wrote that there was money banked for me if I wanted it. I wanted it; but my father was old and sick. I stayed until he died, mostly of grief.  Torval was four years older than me, so I was sixteen when I came to the city states, green and ignorant. Our sister was almost eight when she was stolen away, four years my junior. My parents did the correct rituals to Freega Allmother, whom I know now as Zea, for the most fortuitous space between children. We had a younger brother, too, but he was sickly, and died. I have no more family, for I don’t suppose Sjurgi survived. She was a bright little spark and not given to being pushed around; with two older brothers, she always wanted to tag along, and show us she was as good as we were. That would not go down well in a slave.”

“You could ask Alethos,” said Thyella. “He would surely know who had passed through the halls of the dead.”

“I... I had not thought of it,” said Harkon. He thrust his sword into the ground, and knelt by it to pray.

“No, my hero, no Sjurgi, Gordsdottir, has passed through,” said Alethos. “Gord, Solvi, and Sjen rest in the halls of the dead, for those of no strong faith.”

“Then I must visit,” said Harkon, tears flowing down his face. “And I must look again for Sjurgi; though I doubt she would know me, now, any more than I would know her, if they have changed her name, as they are wont to do.”

“I would have carried you to your father’s home if he had still lived,” said Thyella. “But I will take you to the path of the dead any time.”

“Thank you,” said Harkon.

 “And if you get any clue, I will take you to where there might be news of Sjurgi,” said Thyella.

“I... I am almost afraid to hope,” said Harkon. “I used to ask every trading band for news, but as time passes, you lose hope.  I even visited Selenopolis once, but I found nothing of use.”

“I think we will find her,” said Thyella. “Though somehow, I doubt she will be the loving, spirited sister that you knew.”

Harkon considered grimly that a pretty, exotic northern girl would have learned fast how many ways a girl can be hurt, and was probably now someone’s scrub maid, or used to breed soldiers for the empire. 

“And do not berate yourself!” said Alethos. “You had to be where you had to be. My mother tells me that this is the way it had to be.”

Alethos did not say that his mother spoke sorrowfully of a heartbreaking reunion where many things would depend on choices made by Harkon and his sister.

 

 

death's knight 18

 

Chapter 18

 

 

As the afternoon wore on, a patrol of Darkling warriors with two greater toróg as part of their entourage, and a dozen or so trógling came down the valley. One of the trógling was armoured, and looked better fed; the rest were cowed and downtrodden, dressed in rags, and armed with simple spears. They did the work of setting up a camp on the broad mushroom meadow.

“Try not to kill the trógling who are not worshippers of Tor,” muttered Harkon.

“I picked up some torógian speech, both when I was a slave, and from Kaz,” murmured Kuros. “I’ll talk to them.”

Harkon nodded agreement; they did not want to talk too much to risk their voices carrying to the sharp-eared toróg.

Before the sun had done more than sink behind the mountains, a cave mouth appeared to open in the face of the cliff that rose above the meadow. Zog sighed a melancholy sigh as a beautiful, but pallid, woman with brown hair stepped out of the cave. She was accompanied by four undead greater toróg in more or less stages of rotting, and a dozen skeletons, mostly darklings, with the odd human and a couple of trógling. There was also an eidolon, a visible spirit, similar to spirits of retribution.

“The guard from below sleep between the two weeks each year, and wake at the command of Tor to accompany her when she leaves his halls,” murmured Zog. “The air is damp, and preserves the nekrosti as a kind of soap.”

Lelyn sniggered.

“Time to use Kaz’s favourite laundry cantrips then,” she said.

“Time to watch and wait,” said Harkon. “I’ll deal with the undead.” The others nodded; they knew that Harkon had powerful cult spells to do so. “Zog, go to Mycota, and lead her away from the fighting. Kuros, collect the trógling. The rest of you, deploy as seems appropriate, and I’ll join you when I can. The eidolon might take some killing.”

Nobody mentioned that a powerful cult spirit was the heaviest challenge of all.

The red moon rose, full, though that made little difference to the undead of Tor. Mycota danced intricate dances in the moonlight, her feet marking circles for the fungi to grow.

The night passed slowly for the watchers. As the sky to the east greyed at its rim, Harkon used prayer to contact Alethos.

“Any time from now on,” he prayed, laconically.

“Kaz would tease me for brevity if I said that,” his god laughed. “She thinks about two hours.”

 

 

oOoOo

 

“So, back the way we came?” said Thyella. “Not waiting or following to see what happens?”

“Thyella, do you want to personally go head to head with Tor here?” asked Kaz. “I expect Alethos got a volunteer to go in spirit form to watch.”

“Oh, right,” said Thyella. “My lightning is a bit weak down here.”

“Funny that, as we’re in the depths of the underworld, not in the sky,” said Kaz.

“You’re the most sarcastic being I’ve ever met,” said Thyella.

“Well, then, you should count yourself lucky not to have encountered anyone so sarcastic before,” said Kaz.

“She’s unsettled; imagine if you and Harkon had got ripped out of his tent right before you started raining on the rest of us?” snapped Rynn, with asperity. “Give her space; she and Alethos have to hold off until she’s officially been cursed.”

“I guess that would make me sarcastic too,” said Thyella. “Friend Hraazaz! You are very quiet. How do you like being in such disparate company as we?”

“It’s unsettling,” said Hraazaz. “I’m a priestess of my beloved mother the moon, but I’m also a trader, and I enjoy the cut and thrust of trading.  Everything was normal until I first met the Daykaz, who killed one of my bodyguard and took two of my trógling. One of whom is an accomplished warrior, and negating all I have ever believed about trógling, as is the Daykaz. I put my life back together, and then I was captured by the Selenites, who normally have no problem with toróg traders, and we hide our hatred of them, because we have to trade. Being tortured to find out about my mission, a mission I did not have, I find myself rescued by one I had thought an enemy, and aided in becoming what I have always dreamed of but never dared think of too hard; and suddenly we are working together. You will understand why I am quiet, whilst I try to get my thoughts and feelings in order.”

“Ah, but fate rewards those who follow her webs and patterns,” said Thyella, a trifle fatuously. “Now, you are greater, and you know that you can train your trógling further than you realised, and that by treating them well and encouraging them to learn, they will be even more loyal to you, and that will give you greater status and power in your clan and with other clans.”

“This is true,” said Hraazaz. “And having ventured to the underworld, I will have bragging rights over other would-be heroines. The strength potion...”

“There will be enough for all of us to have some,” said Kaz. “I never saw myself your enemy, or only in as far as you would have prevented Rynn and Zon from joining me.”

“You got him killed,” said Hraazaz.

“Yes,” said Kaz, with a bite to the end of the word. “He died in my service and gave his life to save mine, but he is assured a resting place with Alethos, and travels with me still, at his own request, as my familiar spirit. And he has been increasing his own kormajeia in helping me deal with undead. Surely your priestly eye can see how brightly he shines?”

“That is Zon? Then he has done well,” said Hraazaz.

“Never say again that Kaz got Zon killed,” said Rynn, marching up to the huge matriarch. “I’d fight you for it.”

“So loyal,” said Hraazaz. “I apologise. I meant to hurt you, Kaz of Alethos, because I feel out of my depth. It was dishonourable of me to do so, and not true blue of me.”

“You get used to it,” said Kaz. “I’ve been out of my depth since I heard the prophesy that I should live forever and desire death, but I’ve learned to live with it, and fumble through the deep passages of the unknown, with friends at my side, it matters little where I am so long as I am going in the right direction.”

“It’s a frightening prophecy, until one realises what it means... I am not accustomed to meeting gods and demigods as a seeming commonplace matter.”

“Alethos broke us into that gently by pretending to be an initiate, and let us supposedly outguess that he was questing for herodom, so it was less pressure; and when he explained it all, I was much relieved,” said Kaz. “I... I remembered a trógling who had displeased his master who was dismembered and healed daily, and thought it would mean something like that.”

“There is no need to practise such wanton cruelty,” said Hraazaz. “Even if trógling were scarcely more than animals as I have always believed.”

“You differ from my mother and her mother then,” said Kaz, with bitter tightness. “Skagarra is coarse of nature and enjoys punishing those trógling unfortunate enough to be born of her womb.”

“That is, unfortunately, true of many,” said Hraazaz. “One is not supposed to acknowledge them, and it is hard to feel any warmth, but to punish them for something they cannot help is wrong. Are you sure she was not just pushing you further as I tried to push Zon and Rynn further?”

“I was on the menu when I ran away, for being too clever,” said Kaz. “They are your get? Then your resentment at Zon’s death is more understandable.”

“I would acknowledge Rynn if she would acknowledge me,” said Hraazaz.

“I don’t know,” said Rynn. “I would have to think about that.”

“I understand,” said Hraazaz. “At least I know better than to serve a trógling to a human trader when the trógling had offended him, as I heard Skagarra did.”

“And I angered her by warning her that it would disgust him,” said Kaz. “Humans find cannibalism disgusting.”

“Cannibalism other than the ritual consumption of those who die by natural causes is disgusting,” said Hraazaz. “Oh. We do not think of eating semi-beasts as cannibalism.”

“And humans consider the eating of any sentient to be cannibalism,” said Kaz.

“Not for the weakest to serve rather than be a drain on society,” said Hraazaz.

“I can understand the reasons behind it,” said Kaz. “But it’s nervous when you’re the one who is going to be eaten.”

“Yes, and if trógling on the whole have the ability to comprehend that, then it is wrong,” said Hraazaz. “I have a lot to ponder.”

“Can’t we leave the subject and sing one of Svargia’s cheerful plains songs where everyone dies but to bright and lively tunes?” asked Rynn.

“Oh, like the one,

Who is the handsome man with the lovely horse?

He is off to the fight in the freedom wars

He will be taken by the red moon troops to serve

Broken in spirit and aged as a slave he will lose his verve,” said Kaz.

“That sort of thing,” said Rynn. “But it reminds them and us why we fight.”

Kaz laughed.

“I understand,” said Thyella. “I’m often over the plains. They call me Pieran, the flash, and I have to appear male. It’s a name considered lucky for their horses. They are a fatalistic people, proud, stoic, brave, and my brother and I love them.”

They tramped back the way they had come, singing. They were well on their way when Kaz was contacted.

“The rampaging geryones have reached Tor’s castle as dawn dances before Solos at the eastern edge of the world,” said Alethos. “Now it is up to Harkon.”

“We will pass back through the gate without tarrying, beloved,” said Kaz.

They continued to Alethos’s halls, and Kaz looked on the marble edifice and turned from it.

It was almost a physical wrench to leave her lover’s domain and to force herself to run through the strangeness that was the gate, and out of the tunnel, twisting over the lip to be standing on the ground in the small room where the pit was locked away from prying eyes.  A lay servant leaped up to open the door for them, bowing as they went through. Alcitha met them.

“Why, Kaz, what is wrong?” she asked, for tears flowed freely from Kaz’s eyes. Kaz shook her head.

“A room for the night, sword sister,” she whispered.  Alcitha put an arm around her, and led her away to guest quarters, Rynn firmly joining her.

Kaz cried herself to sleep whilst the others ate, and Rynn put together a cold meal with a bowl of soup on a charcoal-powered chafing dish for when she awoke.

 

“Rynn, bless you; you take such good care of me,” said Kaz.

“I know how hard it must be for you,” said Rynn. Kaz managed a wicked little chuckle.

“Like iron,” she said.

“Oh, well, if you can joke about it, you’ll survive the parting,” said Rynn.

“I could have sunk myself into his being,” said Kaz, honestly. “And that would be no good for him or for me, never mind the damned prophecy.”

Rynn hugged her friend.

“Phaedros can be a bit overwhelming at times, so I have some idea,” she said.

“And at least he has no idea of how powerful he is,” said Kaz.

 

 

oOoOo

 

“My watcher tells me that Tor himself is engaged on the sport of the hunt of the geryones,” Alethos told Harkon. “Move now.”

“Show time,” said Harkon. “We all know what to do.”

Harkon and his band approached the guards openly as Zog moved to one side to intercept Mycota. Kuros stepped away from the armed group  and moved towards the trógling.

Harkon smiled brightly.

“Hello!” he said.

He was already drawing on Alethos’s power for abjure undead, adding his own power to overwhelm the four big nekrosti and the skeletons.

The two High Toróg lifted their weapons; one favoured a maul, the other an axe. The half dozen darklings fell in with them, and the armoured trógling, whilst the other trógling hesitated, gripping their spears defensively.

“Get out while you can, human scum,” said one of the high toróg. “You don’t know what you’re tangling with.” He couldn’t see the undead behind him; didn’t realise that the skeletons had collapsed into piles of dust or that the soap-monster nekrosti would be unlikely to be needing any laundry cantrips as the dead flesh flowed off their bones before collapsing. That was a powerful spell!  Meanwhile, Harkon had the living to deal with, though some of the darklings were backing away in fear at what had happened to the undead.

“The Hell I don’t,” said Harkon. “You’re the Avalanche Twins, aren’t you?”

“Little human has heard of us but isn’t running away. Is little human stupid, or just rooted to the spot in terror?” asked the other.

“My god doesn’t like you. I don’t like you either,” said Harkon. He was going to die on this mission. But that was not a problem. He felt a pang of regret that he was not with Thyella, but at least she could visit his spirit.

“Alethos, into your hands,” he murmured, as they moved forward, purposefully.

“Remember what spells you know,” said Alethos, irritably. “Your brain is a weapon too.”

“Is it right to use spirit sword on the living not blood suckers?” asked Harkon.

“His spirit can fight back. You face two heroes of Tor; use my power,” said Alethos.

Harkon pointed his sword, and directed the glyph spell at the toróg with the axe; he considered it a deadlier weapon than a maul. His kormajiea slammed into that of the big warrior, shaped like a sword and aimed at the heart of the toróg, an invisible struggle to most. Harkon was aware of Protasion beside him, guarding against the one with the maul, Lelyn backing him up. Polia and Vulk were on his other side, Vulk in wolf form, going for the throat of one of the Darkling warriors. Evgon was aiding Polia with another, and Svargia on another. Kuros was talking to the trógling in their own tongue, taking advantage of them being cowed already by the undead, the toróg, and the daylight. The armoured trógling produced a whip, and threatened them.

“Kill him and come with me,” said Kuros.

At that moment, the high toróg with the axe slumped to the ground; it seemed to break something in the trógling, who turned on their fellow with the whip, and all drove their spears into him at once.  He died very surprised.

Terrified at what they had done, and possible retribution, the trógling huddled together, looking to Kuros for support.

“Move back behind the ridge and wait for me,” snapped Kuros. “There’s a green pack with food in it; help yourselves.”

Anyone who offered food so freely was to be obeyed, and they scuttled away, at least half of them abandoning their spears.

Kuros shook his head and went to back up Svargia.

 

As the big toróg fell to the spirit sword spell, his brother bellowed in rage and raised his maul over Harkon’s head whilst Harkon fell back a step, the spirit of the hero toróg attacking his in retribution.

Harkon could not give any attention to the other toróg and his maul; he could only fight the spirit of the dead hero, preventing it from ripping into his own spirit and reaching his kormajiea. Fortunately, the enraged toróg did not notice Protasion wait for the opportunity to come in with a beautifully timed blow into the toróg’s armpit.

It would have killed a lesser being, but it hurt and distracted the massive warrior, who dropped his maul, which caught Harkon on the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. Harkon tried to ignore the pain. He was aware that he was screaming, partly in anger. He turned his anger on the spirit he was fighting, using the wring cantrip with which Kaz had had such good results on spirits. It seemed to work, and cause the toróg much distress.

And then, the other hero twin was in trouble, as suddenly mushrooms sprouted from his nostrils, ears, mouth, and other parts of his anatomy. He was screaming in a rather muffled sort of way as fruiting bodies and strap-like roots appeared all over his body and he fell to the ground.

Protasion’s sword bloomed in flame to fight the spirit of the other twin and Harkon cursed himself for forgetting the spell. He drew a knife, which would do as well, since his right arm was pinned down under the maul, and activated the spell, hacking at the spirit which attacked him, as a spell could do direct damage. Toval’s spirit had been valiantly aiding him, but Harkon was afraid for his brother against such a vicious and powerful foe.  With Protasion fighting the other, and Mycota and Zog returning, the two notorious toróg heroes spirits fled.