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.”

 

death's Knight 7

 

Chapter 7

 

Phaedros was not displeased that much of the early journey was up river. It meant the chance to rest after his first long walk ever. And it was only a mile or so; Harkon had said so. Phaedros was horrified at how hard he found it, and used some of his magical power to enable him to do it. He had to get used to two wolves along as well, Konisia, who was bonded to Kaz, and Lycaura, a golden-pelted wolf who was bonded to Rynn, who dyed her hair to match her wolf. It was striking with her blue skin.

He was also horrified to find that when the Alethosi drilled in the mornings, he was made to look a fool, even by their least experienced member, the trógling, Rynn. He was only able to beat the two lay member trógling,  Kvag and Dran.

“Someone has let you down very badly,” said Protasion.  “You’re still using those set poses with silly names, which nobody serious about war has used in two hundred years.”

“I was told I was amazing, and a prodigy,” gasped Phaedros, who was close to sobbing.

“We’ll sort you out, and then you can duel those who let you down and give them a good whacking,” said Rynn, kindly.

“It’ll be a world of hurt; Harkon is cruel to be kind,” said Kaz. “He will punish your weak points, to make sure that you have bruises, not deep cuts. I can’t say any of us are impressed by any family which let you be so abused – for it’s abuse as surely as if you were beaten and treated badly.”

“But why would they be so foolish? I don’t understand,” said Phaedros. “I am sure my father would have richly rewarded anyone who taught me properly. I… I didn’t have to learn my lessons properly; if I was naughty, there was a slave-boy who was beaten for me. I didn’t like that, though, so I did try to behave properly.”

“That does you credit, Phaedros,” said Harkon. “I am sure we are all proud of you for that. What happened to him?”

“When I was fourteen, and released from my teachers, he was sold,” said Phaedros. “I was told I should be ashamed because I cried; I was told that I should not be fond of a slave as they were nobody. But Mitros was my companion and friend.  The only friend I ever had, because he had to spend time with me to help me learn, or be beaten.”

“It is to be hoped that, as he was then highly educated, he was at least sold as a tutor where he would be better treated than many slaves,” said Protasion. “Is your father a cold, remote man?”

“I… well, I don’t really know him,” admitted Phaedros. “He has visited to test me from time to time, but I cannot say I know him well. But… but he is important, and he does not have much time.”

“A man who makes enough time to sire a son but does not make time to be a father to him is despicable,” said Protasion. “My father always time for me, and he is a very busy man.”

 

“Your priest is insolent,” said Pollonis, huffily. “He has no idea.”

“I can’t see Kaz sitting still for me treating a child of ours as you have that child of yours,” said Alethos. “I stand by my priest, cousin. You’ve let him down badly. Look at the way he fights!”

“What’s wrong with the way he fights? He knows all the forms and postures.”

“Which will get him killed.  Didn’t you see how easily even my youngest children here defeated him? He’s nothing but a pretty statue which can move a little, and believe me, dear coz, that does not work in the real world. And if you still use those archaic forms, it’ll kill you if we get into pitched battle with Selen and her cohorts.”

Pollonis paled.

“I will instruct the boy that your tools have my trust to teach him. I am sure his mother meant well; she is very devout.”

“I fancy we’re about to hear Harkon on the subject.”

 

Harkon patted Phaedros on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry, lad, we can get you up to speed. I fancy your family is one of those old, hidebound ones where looking good is more important than being good, and you are supposed to be surrounded by a phalanx of bodyguard.”

“Why, yes, I am,” said Phaedros. “Only when my father appeared to me, and told me that this must be what the prophecy about me meant, I sneaked out with only a few close servants, leaving a note.”

“Oh, my giddy aunt,” groaned Harkon. His eyes went blank for a moment as he communicated with the spirit of his brother, who was his familiar spirt. “I’ve sent word back to Pythas to find out who you are and send word back to your mother, before letting your servants return, as they will doubtless be blamed. Which is only the first and most vital of what you just said which needs to be unpacked.”

Phaedros’s eyes wided.

“Oh, dear! Mother might have them executed,” he said. “I was expecting to have them with me.”

“Well, they’ll get a working holiday in our temple,” said Harkon. “So long as your body servant doesn’t try to curl Pythas’s hair or help him on the stool, it should be fine.”

“I homed in on ‘my father appeared to me,’” said Kaz. “And assuming that we have a demigod in our midst, there’s also the question of whether jealousy amongst his so-called advisors and tutors, toenail-primpers and pube-combers also has led to them stultifying the poor little swipe for wanting the kudos of being essential along with not wanting him to be too independent.”

“You have no social graces at all, Daykaz,” said Phaedros.

“No,” said Kaz. “I’m a soldier and I tell it like it is. And I’m angry on your behalf that you need us to bring you up. And please call me Kaz, in case anyone hears.”

“I…” began Phaedros. Then he flushed. “Maybe I do need bringing up, at that. Thank you for caring enough to do so, and being ready to help me.”

“Well, if I called a god a piss-poor father, I stand by my words,” said Protasion. “I assume there was a prophecy which made him seek out your mother, and he thought that unloading his august testicles was enough to fulfil it.  I only hope that his inaction hasn’t loused up things for our Kaz, and spoiled our chances to bring down the offspring of the Chaos Wolf.”

“For what it is worth, I pledge my life to the aid of the Daykaz,” said Phaedros. “What was that chime?”

“Fate, getting happy,” said Kaz. “She’s obliged to do it by the universe so we might expect some opposition.”

 

“Another piece is on the board!” cried Selen.

“Oh, it is Pollonis’s son,” said Daze. “I have taken steps to neutralise him. His mother is as stupid as a stump, though her titties are nice… not as nice as yours, of course,” he added, hurriedly. His sister was jealous.  “I appeared to her in the guise of Pollonis, after the brat was born, because of the prophecy that her offspring with the god of Light would help reveal the Daykaz. I healed her from the pains of birthing and made sure she could not conceive again and then screwed her royally to get her in the right mood. I told her that he did not need much training as he would have instinctive knowledge, and must not be pushed hard or he would damage his godly core.”

“Oh, well done, brother,” said Selen. “I wonder why he is with Alethosi?

“The powerful one there is one called Harkon,” said Daze. “But I know how to neutralise him, and to cause a rift between the Alethosi and the Solosians. It will be easy.”

“Oh, tell me, my brother!” cried Selen.

Daze sniggered.

 

 

“I am not pleased with my mother-in-law elect,” said Kaz. “I just got one of those prophetic things in my head. The words went, The lord of Truth must remember always to be True, and to judge as he sees truly regardless of the consequences to himself. If he is not true to himself all will be lost in fire and lightning, destruction and disruption.  So not at all cryptic.”

“I have been told that the men of the East curse ‘May you live in interesting times,” said Harkon, cheerfully. “That could refer to any of us, or Pythas, or even Alethos himself.”

“It may refer to his choice when we are able to be together,” said Kaz, her skin paling to light blue. “If… if he is as… neglectful as Phaedros’s father, I will not have the strength….”

“Never!” said Alethos’s voice in her mind. “I will learn lessons from my cousin’s failings; but moreover, I will want to spend time with you. I love you; you are more than a womb to fulfil prophecy, you are my Chosen and my Beloved.”

Kaz heaved a sigh of relief, projecting her own feelings of love.

“That potential problem averted?” said Harkon.

“It is,” said Kaz.

 

The being appeared to be the constellation Griffin, who bowed to three goddesses, and presented a golden egg.

“When this hatches, it will be my fair daughter who will both be the steed and the counsellor of much wisdom, to the fairest and most beautiful of you all; the three of you must seek out a mortal, a worshipper of Alethos, god of Truth, and ask him to judge him. But you must give him three days in which to choose,” said the apparent bird-lion.

The three goddesses squealed in delight at the beautiful thing. And it was beautiful; the surface of the egg was not plain gold, but shades of gold in an iridescent swirl, shifting and changing hypnotically.

“Why, we know who to seek,” said Thyella, goddess of lightning and wildfire, the Celestial Virgin. “There was a petition to grandfather by some Alethosi; his name escapes me.”

“It is Harkon,” purred Zeandine, goddess of Spring and lust. “I know I can sway his choice.”

“He will favour me, for a man always loves a woman who can be sure his belly is full,” said Secalia, a grain goddess. “With such bounty, his armies will always conquer, and he will be king of all the city states, and the north.”

Thyella frowned. She must find a way to compete with her cousins! What could she offer the stern Glyph-Lord-Priest?

Daze smirked.

He was not sure which one Harkon would choose; but that did not matter. If he chose to become a firebrand and muster armies, assured of food to feed his armies, he must surely come into conflict with the full might of the Selenite Empire, which would put him down before he got very far. If, as he suspected, Zeandine found him some lovely woman, with luck she would persuade him to carry off a woman in such a was as to incite a war. As to Thyella… well, she was hot of temper, and could be capricious, anything she used to bribe him would certainly cause trouble, and might involve the wind gods. He sneaked away to change back to his usual form, where he could laugh his fill.

Now wait and see Harkon find this goddess of a new dawn!

 

 

The authorities of Sideropolis knew the Alethosi and greeted them warmly when their ship docked.

“Off back to the Ghostlands?” asked the official who welcomed them onto the dockside.

“Yes, we have a mission there,” said Harkon. “How’s the trade from the community we set up?”

“Oh, very good,” said the official. “Those trógling you rescued from slavery are hard workers, and we have all manner of luxury goods, and not just what’s grown in the reclaimed fields; some of ʼem don’t like the light and have tunnelled into the mountains; we get exotic mushrooms year round, and spider-silk cloth which is light, but warm if needed, and it takes enchantments well.”

“It’s something some have been trained to do by the Toróg, to handle spiders,” said Kaz. “Harvesting the silk of outsize spiders is one of the high-end industries of the Toróg, but they make trógling do it where possible. The spiders find the Toróg delicious, and prefer to eat them rather than co-operate with them.”

“And trógling are not delicious?” asked the official.

“When you’re a slave, you learn ways to survive,” said Kaz. “Silk-collectors learned long ago that if they have been bitten by a smaller spider, and survive its venom, they become disgusting as meat. The spiders are aware that trógling are inedible.”

“Clever!” said the official. “The more I learn about trógling, the more I find to respect.”

“Thank you,” said Kaz.