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.

 

destiny's queen 8

 

Chapter 8

 

“Sardio SubDoxus, you’re under arrest,” said the big blond patrician, who was overdressed in purple-trimmed tunic with silver braid and beads. His companion was dark, and was dressed in primrose with green key-pattern on it and white leather fringing.

“You’ll never take me without a fight, you bastards,” said Sardio, going for his sword.

“Oh, very well,” said Harkon, who laid him out with a straight left to the jaw.

“Not sure that was what he meant,” said Ralthur.

“Oh, well, if he’s difficult, I’ll claim he broke my manicured fingernails,” said Harkon.

 

Sardio came round on a comfortable enough bunk with both patricians staring at him.

He tried to get up, but found himself manacled.

“Clodax Dren believes you’re nothing but a hothead. Julus Helio thinks you play the part of a hothead, and are actually a part of the rebellious underground.  I’ve heard it said that you are a tool of Julus Helio who stirs other people up with intent of getting them arrested. Now, which one is it?” asked Harkon.

“None of them,” growled Sardio. “I might have said some injudicious things when I was drunk. I can’t think why anyone thinks I would be disloyal.”

“Maybe because your brother was made to take the place of one Sulius Doxus, as his vassal, for military service, and he died?” said Ralthur.

“It is the duty of all citizens to die for the empire,” said Sardio.

“But your brother was put through cruel hazing rituals because his birth was subpatrician and so he was a target for them to ‘keep him in his place,’ was he not?” said Harkon. “And he took his own life to avoid the cruelty.”

“They called them ‘challenges’ to take his place beside them,” said Ralthur. “They tried to cover up the evidence, but truth will out. Did the authorities ever tell you what was done to him?”

“No, but he wrote home,” spat Sardio. “I hate you patricians with all my heart, satisfied? I hate Thanus who permitted his worshippers to do such filthy things in his name.”

“Your brother called out to Alethos to take his soul when he could bear it no longer, and Alethos answered, and called on his worshippers for vengeance,” said Harkon. “But we had to test you in case you were not sufficiently passionate, or, indeed, if you were indifferent and were a tool of Julus Helio. But Alethos permits us to  sense truth. Which is why the Internal Crimson Executive uses torture, because Thanus cannot gift truthsense.”

Sardio started shuddering.

“You... you are not loyal to the empire?” he stuttered.

“We’re here to undermine it and bring it down from within,” said Harkon. “But we need agents.  And as you are considered harmless, we want to recruit you to go back home and continue working against the empire, but with our aid and direction, to make it more efficient.”

“I... I have acted as a drunkard, deeply hurt by my brother’s death but able to do no more than drink myself to oblivion and watch for opportunities,” said Sardio. “I... and you are not going to hand me on to Osedax the Cruel?”

“He will get his justice, in due course,” said Ralthur. “We want you to run a cell of dissidents ready to sabotage and cause trouble, and then melt away.”

“I can do that,” said Sardio.

 

 

Fadabius and Aquilix became well known and feared figures. They had a list provided by some shadowy figure, and worked down it with grim determination. Most people on the list disappeared.

This was because few of the people on their list had an equivocal status like Sardio; either they were on the suspect list of Clodax Dren, or they were people he considered loyal. And those on the suspect list disappeared to be trained, assuming their loyalties truly were in opposition of the empire, and moved through trógling cut tunnels and storm drains to various safe houses. Those who were loyal to the empire were either released, having ‘proved themselves,’ or, if they knew too much about rebels, were quietly incarcerated.

 

oOoOo

 

“I bring my foster-daughter for your blessing, O mighty Solos,” said Thyella, presenting Chionea.

“Poor Thyella, having to adopt some foundling because she can’t get a man,” sneered Zeandine.

“And whose child is this lovely babe, my granddaughter?” asked Solos, lifting Chionea to give her his blessing.

“Fate herself entrusted her to my care,” said Thyella. “She is the daughter of my brother, Ombros, and one he believed to be a spirit of ice.”

“And why is this spirit of ice not caring for her child?” asked Solos.

“Because she is dead, and was dead when she seduced Ombros,” said Thyella, steadily. “Because Selen wore the semblance of the ice spirit to steal my brother’s seed to make a child who could be forced to bring winter to Mesolimnos. And as my brother would not acknowledge or pledge care for his child when Fate approached him, she came instead to me; and her tool and lover released the child for me to remove, and cured the chaos taint on her.”

“Remarkable!” said Solos, who had no intention of censuring Ombros for his sexual incontinence, since it would be the height of hypocrisy.

“I was tricked by Selen?” demanded Ombros.

“All is well, though, your daughter is not tainted,” said Thyella.

“Never mind that! I was tricked by Selen!” roared Ombros.

“Ombros! Let it go, and plan revenge....” Thyella was talking to herself, as Ombros disappeared with a crack of lightning and the stench of ozone. Thyella wept.

“Come, child, why do you weep?” asked Solos.

“It is foretold that if Ombros goes to fight without thinking it through, that he will die,” cried Thyella. “Oh! Harkon! Come to me!”

 

oOoOo

 

 

Harkon stiffened as he duelled Dróg, giving the trógling some pointers. He stepped back, and hastily saluted.

“Sorry, Dróg, something came up, and my wife needs me,” he said. “You, Ralthur, and Crondion can hold the fort.” With that, he vanished with a crack.

“Do you ever get used to that?” Dróg asked Ralthur.

“You get resigned to it,” said Ralthur. “I think that’s another piece of prophecy settling into place; Harkon is about to inherit godhood and we may have a brief problem with Lycoids until Volk gets them under control.”

“I’m glad I’m nothing to do with prophecy,” said Dróg.

 

oOoOo

 

The lunarsphere was not like the Sunsphere, which aped, in many ways, what it was like on the planet, the mighty sun throne and its surrounding throne room rolling across the sky like a majestic ship on the sea. The lunarsphere was cold, unwelcoming, where Ombros felt out of his depth, and where his magic did not work well. He felt weak, and his lightning did not work properly.

“What do you want, you impotent little god?” sneered Selen. “Did you think I find your barbaric body attractive? I needed your wind powers, that was all.”

“You bitch!” howled Ombros.

“Woof,” said Selen. “Now deal with the son of the bitch; Lycos! See him off! And rip his powers to become the Stormwolf, as our prophesies say will be yours if you prevail!”

Lycos did not have as much power as his grandsire, the Wolf of Chaos, but he was powerful, and on his parents’ home territory.  Ombros wielded his sword of lightning and cut and burned Lycos terribly, but the ravening wolf mauled him, biting off his sword arm and sinking his fangs deep into the neck of the god of storms. Ombros slipped back and fell from the lunarsphere, barely able to slow his descent to the unforgiving earth below.

 

Harkon appeared beside Thyella, and she seized his hand to pursue her brother.

“Wait,” said Harkon. “We will collect Vulk, Polia, and Sjurgi; Sjurgi can take us to the lunarsphere if need be, and understands Selen’s mind. And if this is the time, we will not succeed without Vulk, who is ordained to slay Lycos.”

“I... yes,” said Thyella, who was more prepared to hear reason than her brother.

They went via Mesolimnos, where Vulk, Polia, Svargia, and Sjurgi were finishing getting ready.

 

They arrived in time to see Ombros fall, and followed him, to cushion his descent as much as possible. Thyella took her brother’s hand, sobbing, where he lay, broken, on a mountainside.

“Sister! You were right,” coughed Ombros, his words gurgling in his ravaged throat. “You and your hero, wrest my powers from me as your last gift to me, to keep them from the wolf, who follows to become the Stormwolf, which is foretold in their prophecies. And let your child be my full successor!”

“The wolf comes,” said Sjurgi. “I stand for my brother with his pack.”

Ombros poured forth his power into his sister and brother-in-law, desperate for them to absorb all.

“My spirit... gives power to your child... and bind the remnants of it to aid you,” said Ombros, to Harkon. “I... you have made my sister happy; I give you my blessing and love, my brother.”

Tears ran down Harkon’s face as he bound the spirit of his dead brother-in-law to him, knowing that to keep his powers from the use of Selen and her pantheon was as important as fighting Lycos.

“Harkon...” said Thyella.

“Let us aid in avenging him,” said Harkon, coming to his feet in one fluid move, as the former god’s body flickered and dissipated into the air which had ruled him.

Thyella nodded, and they went to stand beside Vulk. Their friend had a good grasp on the throat of Lycos, but Lycos was casting vicious spells, opening diseased wounds. Polia was casting healing as Sjurgi fought the foul diseased moon-wolf. Harkon went to his sister’s side, and Thyella took up the other side, smiting at the wolf, magical weapons causing some damage, but not as much as might be expected; and then other lycoids joined him, summoned by their god.

“Keep them off him,” directed Polia. Vulk’s friends did as bidden, slaying the disease-carrying beasts with grim determination, as Vulk gradually, but surely, overcame the already wounded god, ripping out his throat and absorbing his strength through the blood of his foe. The fight took place on the spirit plane, too as Lycos resisted Vulk. Vulk snarled and used the spell sharpblade on his own teeth to bite into the spirit of his foe, tearing and rending the chaos within, as he absorbed the power from the weakening kormajaia of the great moon wolf.

And finally it was over; and all that was left was to fight lycoids, too fanatical to persuade to the ways of Alethos or Vulk himself. It was a short battle, and Vulk sat back on his haunches and howled, summoning the surviving Lycoid glyph-ranks to him in the godbeing, for Vulk, by choice, part of the realms of Alethos; and Alethos stood with him as well as his other friends, to let the great gift ripple through them, removing all chaos and turning them from werewolves into shifters. Those who shunned him might still take up with the Selenite gods, but would no longer turn into brute beasts when the moon was full, to run about passing on diseases, not least, lycanthropy itself, but other diseases like distemper and rabies.

“I’ll have to contact every wolf to rid them of their taints,” said Vulk, shifting back to his human form, a rangy plainsman.

“The wolves we spoke to before will spread the word in the north,” said Harkon. “Go to the plains, and make yourself known to the plainsmen, and enlist their aid to find plains wolves.”

“Yes, a good idea,” agreed Vulk.

“We must report to my august grandsire,” said Thyella. “And you must take on the duties of my brother, dear Harkon.”

“I suppose so,” said Harkon. “But what about my duties in Selenopolis?”

“I will take on your semblance, my brother, and go to aid Ralthur Kron,” said Sjurgi. “I can bear to look on the city again, and view it as a conqueror not a grateful disciple. But I must take leave of Firri, the child you sent to me, whom I am fostering.”

“Yes, you must explain that you have duties,” said Harkon. “And she will be safe enough in the temple of Alethos.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Beloved Grandsire, father, mother, I fear I must break bad tidings,” said Thyella, kneeling shakily before the sun throne. “The moonwolf slew my brother; but we took his dying wishes, that a son of mine will hold his powers, and that my husband shall do his duties whilst our son waits to be born, and grows up.”

“HUSBAND?” squealed Zeandine. “But you’re the celestial virgin!”

“I WAS the celestial virgin,” said Thyella. “Do keep up.”

“With a heavy heart, I can but bless your endeavours to provide a young god to take the duties, but never the place, of Ombros,” said Solos. “This must be hidden from his worshippers so they do not despair.”

“I will never lie if asked outright, mighty Solos; I am still a son of Alethos,” said Harkon.

“Oh, they won’t,” said Solos, waving a hand.  “I don’t want to disparage my grandson, but his worshippers are not, on the whole, terribly... how shall we put it? Deep thinkers. So long as they see you as the thunderer, or Skyhorse, or Skybull, however they frame their belief in your form.”

“Indeed, mighty one, and as such, a god is, as I understand it, generally formed into the general conception of his form by all but the most powerful of his followers.”

Solos gave an austere smile.

“My light falls upon a few travesties of the appearance of Alethos,” he said.

“Truly,” said Harkon, who had seen his beloved god depicted both as a muscle-bound oaf, and as a skeletal figure with the sword of severance.

 

oOoOo

 

Firri frowned.

“I am old enough to help,” she said. “If I wear the costume and insignia of a slave of House Drex, I will be inviolate to most, and I can overhear things as children do.”

Sjurgi wavered.

“Very well,” she said.

She appeared with Firri in Ralthur’s office.

“I’m going to take on Harkon’s appearance,” she said. “Firri did not want to be left behind.”

Ralthur blushed.

“I... I am very happy to see you,” he said. “I will do my best to protect the child; she can stay within...”

“She will run errands as a valued slave, and use her eyes and ears,” said Sjurgi. “I will not disrespect her.”

Ralthur sighed.

“You see yourself in her.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, lady, it is not.”

“And you will forget that I am anyone but your partner, Aquilix.”

“I can handle it,” said Ralthur. 

He reflected to himself that if she was wearing Harkon’s form, and with a beard, he was at least less likely to want to draw her into his arms and kiss her, and protect her, as he had wanted to do to Thea Drex since he had first seen her.

 

destiny's queen 7 cliffie bonus

 

Chapter 7

 

The big gladiator sneered, and sheathed his knife, taking a coiled whip from his belt.

“You know the penalty for disobedience,” he said. He cracked the whip once, then let it lash out to wrap around the child, and jerking it free; much of her tunic came with it, and a line of blood lay on her arms and chest.

“I can’t take this any more,” growled Harkon.

A flash of lightning tore through the spring air of the stadium, striking the big gladiator dead. A smoking pit marked the last position of the child, as Harkon whisked her away to deposit in his own mother temple.

“Here, someone take care of her,” he said. “Sjurgi! Same situation as yours.” And then he was striding through the temple to use hero-travel to find Ralthur and return more quietly than he had left.

“You smell of ozone,” said Ralthur.

“I left her with my sister,” said Harkon.

“Of course you did,” said Ralthur. “Sit down before anyone notices you disappeared.”

“Half of them have jumped up in shock at lightning from a clear sky anyway,” said Harkon, in satisfaction. “It’s put the frighteners on the Empress, too,” he added.

There was a susurration of fear passing through the crowd. It hissed in the suppressed murmurings of awe at a second miraculous occurrence... this one not able to be explained away. In the Selenite mythos, storm and wind gods were described as evil and destructive foreign gods, jealous of the calm of Selenite life.

The Empress and her chief priestess were hastily conferring.

“It has been determined that the bolt of lightning was but a natural phenomenon, and nothing to do with any gods,” said the empress, firmly. “On with the games; there is no reason to suppose there will be any more lightning, and if there is, it will be attracted to the metal of arms and armour in the arena.”

“Keep believing that,” growled Harkon.

“Oh, hush, we aren’t ready for assassinations yet,” said Ralthur.

 

oOoOo

 

Sjurgi bathed the little girl, dressed her old welts, and put her in a soft gown.

“I was your age when they took me,” she said. “I learned to fight, meaning to rebel, but I learned the things they said to avoid whippings, and there were hidden riddles. But I am free again now, and you can learn to fight them.”

“I want that,” said the child. “My name is Firri, not Tassia.”

“And my name is Sjurgi,” said Sjurgi. “It was my brother who brought you to me,” she added.

 

oOoOo

 

Harkon managed to contain himself for the rest of the games.

He and Ralthur, as Patricians, readily managed to gain access to the gladiator barracks. Harkon sneered at the women fawning over the muscular human gladiators; Dróg, though celebrated for his skill, did not garner the same attentions. Harkon quickly made the signs of Alethos, and, wide-eyed, Dróg replied in kind.

“Are you ready, yet, to be bought out to join the fight more openly?” asked Harkon.

“No, I can still do good here,” said Dróg. “Though there are fewer trógling turning up in the arena.”

“Fewer being taken in the north,” said Harkon. “Honestly, I could do with someone with darksense here, and an understanding of things like mining cantrips to build tunnels.”

Dróg frowned.

“I would want a prestigious position as bodyguard,” he said.

“I am happy with that,” said Harkon. “You’ve kept your nose clean?”

“Yes, they haven’t tried to make me worship their gods, they think I worship Tor.”

“So, nobody would blink twice at you being captain of the private guard of a secret policeman?”

Dróg stared, then chuckled.

“Well, either I’m dead, or you’re closer to winning than anyone realised.”

“We’re here to disrupt society to keep official eyes off the vehicles of prophecy.”

“I’m your man. But I won’t let you buy me for fewer than a thousand Moons.”

“That’s a hundred years wages for an artisan!” said Harkon.

“And I get a quarter as my share to put towards my retirement,” said Dróg. “I plan to live well when the war is over. My novelty value has worn off, but I still make them money, so I should get a good price for my contract; take it or leave it, no self-respecting gladiator would settle for less than the best price.”

“Fair enough,” said Harkon. To do anything else would be to attract undue attention.

Harkon asked the Lanista about buying the contract of the trógling.

Dróg came forward to haggle; they settled on fifteen hundred moons. Harkon had not been too concerned about haggling, as Dróg got some of it.

“And you can take my slave bracelets off,” he said. “I won’t run; you’ll be paying me well. Going rate is forty-eight moons a year.”

Harkon laughed.

“Well played,” he said. “Your value to me is well worth it.”

 

oOoOo

 

Thyella was missing her husband, even with the care for Chionea. She regarded the enemy camp, and her dimples popped in and out. She went to see Chrysandion.

“What can I do for you, Divine One?” asked Chrysandion, nervously.

“Oh, never mind the formalities, Sandy,” said Thyella. “I just need people to pray to my mother to ensure rain, lots of rain, in the regions around the city but not on the city itself.”

“You mean, on the Selenites,” said Chrysandion, deciding not to take offence over his name being mangled by the whimsical little goddess.

“Chrysandion! You know you can’t invoke a weather goddess in matters of war and politics!” said Thyella. “But to prepare for the planting of market gardens in the city surrounds, but not the city itself, that’s a valid reason for heavy rain.”

“Oh!” said Chrysandion. “Yes, right I see.”

 

Later, Thyella looked out, and smiled in grim satisfaction. There was a definite line around the city walls where the rain stopped, so that it was bright and sunny within, a lovely spring day, whilst outside the walls, and to the extent of the camp, it rained solidly. Her mother had needed the casuistry of spring planting. 

“You are very clever,” said Sjurgi, who had brought Firri to see, having chosen to worship Thyella as well as Alethos.

“Gods and goddesses need to be adaptable or we will die,” said Thyella. “We can’t break the rules but we can bend them. Rain for market gardens is credible, and when these idiots go away we shall be able to institute them. And make it no lie.”

“And if they retire a little?”

“The fields need rain as well,” said Thyella.

“You’re adorable,” said Sjurgi, hugging her goddess. “And I could not even imagine embracing Selen, though Harkon embraces Alethos often.”

“We like affection too.”

 

oOoOo

 

Selen turned to her brother for affection; or at least, for sex. Her plan of endless winter had been thwarted, and the wolves had all disappeared. Things were going badly and she did not know why!

“Why aren’t we winning?” she asked, petulantly.

“We are, it’s just a few setbacks,” said Daze. “We’ll send Aima’s people in; that will defeat the stinking trogs and their night sight.”

 

oOoOo

 

Every Alethosi who could sense undead fell out of bed with a yell as Selen’s daughter brought in her own people.

Pythas grabbed Dron and Rynn.

“Get doors across the storm drains; I’ll send you sun worshippers to set up daylight spells behind them to handle bloodsuckers and nekrosti.”

“We’ve got it,” said Dron, grimly, well aware that he was unlikely to be able to manage undead by himself.

“I will go with you, friend Dron,” said Phaedros. “I can discourage any who harass you until someone able to anchor a sunlight spell in glyphs can arrive.”

“If I carve the glyphs for you, will your magic set it off?” asked Dron.

“I don’t see why not,” said Phaedros.

“I know the lesser rune-sets as well to anchor it,” said Rynn.

“I should have taken more seriously my education,” said Phaedros.

“You were sabotaged by Daze; we’ll get you up to speed,” said Rynn.

 

Phaedros hated the dark tunnels but he had learned to glow just enough to see where he was going, and not to hamper the trógling who were carrying planks to make doors to fill the passages. Pythas had nodded gratitude to him for going to guard the tróglings with his own abilities.

The trógling work gang had added doors and a sunlight spell behind them to three exits, reassuring those trógling in watch posts in tunnels off the drains, and were working on the fourth when Rynn signalled that someone had entered the tunnels, and shortly after that signalled, ‘Undead’ as Rynn had taken as a gift the ability to sense them.

“Shut eyes, all, Phaedros, glow!” she snapped.

Phaedros clenched his teeth and let his innate ability turn him into a small patch of sunlight. There was a cry from behind what was now visible as a group of nekrosti and skeletons. Dron ushered their group of helping tróglings back as Rynn and Phaedros advanced on the bloodsucker who had some level of protection against Phaedros, though he was plainly hurt.

“Don’t let him get away!” said Rynn, kicking decaying parts of disintegrated nekrosti to one side.  Phaedros found himself attacked by a powerful spirit bound to the bloodsucker.

“Rynn! Escape and warn Kaz!” he managed, as he used what he had learned from the Alethosi in handling spirits.

“Not likely, Dron can do that,” said Rynn, her sword ready.

Dron heard, and ushered his work-gang back up the tunnels, and reflected that this was why he might reach glyph-rank but was unlikely to be a hero. And this was why Rynn was known as the ‘Shadow of the Light Lord.’

Rynn was wearing the ring of flameblade, and activated it to bear down on the bloodsucker.

“What, a trogling dares face me?” he sneered. “You cannot know what I am, foolish one.”

“Trógling,” said Rynn. “You Selenites are so ignorant. And I know fine well what you are.” She folded his cloak, wondering what conceit made bloodsuckers wear extravagant cloaks; not that she was complaining. The cantrip, so fast and easy to cast, caused significant difficulty to anyone wearing the garment being folded. And it gave her a free blow with her flaming sword.

The bloodsucker managed to get a free hand to draw his own sword.

Rynn aimed a household preserving cantrip at the wet floor.

“Freeze,” she said. The floor froze; only in an area of a hand’s span, but as the bloodsucker was advancing and put his foot on that area, the idea she had had worked well, and the undead skidded, off balance, and then hit the unfrozen water and stumbled. Rynn hit him again, and with a judicious strike at where she expected him to fall, she caught the back of his neck and sheered through his head. She prepared to fight his vengeful spirit with her still flaming blade; the magic of it enhanced her will in any attacks, though she had to be careful not to hit herself with it. She had no compunction in ripping and tearing the spirit of the undead to assume any power she could, and any knowledge, too; a worshipper of Aima was anathema to any Alethosi.

 

 

Kaz, Sjurgi, and Thyella stood on the walls as various bloodsuckers chanted spells to raise those who had died in the siege. A Selenite priestess was also chanting.

“Oh, this is not good,” said Sjurgi. “They mean to soften us up with moonrock from the sky; I can protect us three but not the city.”

“Show us how you would protect, and let us share,” said Kaz. “Three of us together might be able to do so.”

They joined thoughts and Sjurgi was amazed that anyone should be so trusting.

“You are our sister,” said Kaz, as if that explained it, looking at the glyph-magic which allowed a cloak to protect from skystones. And how to call them. That magic would fail since Sjurgi’s apostasy, but the knowledge was there.

Kaz sniggered and outlined her thoughts.

“Really, twisting a hospitality cantrip and laying a tablecloth?”  laughed Thyella.

“Let’s do it,” said Kaz, out loud.

A ridiculous confection of lace appeared above them and spread almost transparently thin in a dome over the entire city, the glyph spell powered by two goddesses and a heroine, not by its originator; and as the fearsome bombardment of rocks from the sky commenced, which would have rained down causing terror in the city, the power of the three protected all, and used the dome to bounce rocks onto the Selenite army, and more particularly onto the skeletons and nekrosti which were emerging from the ground.

A bloodsucker dove for shelter, shouting, “You dolts! You are missing the city and hitting us!”

Kaz sniggered.

“It’s a bit like the game some of the men play in the street and where they use one boul striking another to change direction,” she said. “Let’s see what we can do.”

“She’s very young, still,” said Thyella. “Hey! That does look fun,” as Kaz ricocheted one rock off another to hit a bloodsucker full in the chest. “He won’t be getting up any time soon.”

“Play for points?” said Kaz. “Score three for a bloodsucker, one for a live one and half for other undead.”

“Let’s just keep it simple,” said Thyella, “One each.”

“I’m up two, then,” said Sjorgi, once she had picked up how Kaz did it.

 

They were still bickering over their respective scores over breakfast, when the bombardment was over; now it was up to the glyph-rank Alethosi to use undead-abjuration on the nekrosti and skeletons, as the dust from the sky stones blocked the sun.

“Of course, that’s one reason they used the sky stones,” said Kaz. “And there would have been more dust if they had been striking stone city buildings. And they might have hoped for a breach in the walls for the undead to come through. Lovely people to loose such terror on civilians and children.”

Sjurgi went red.

“I never thought of it like that when I was Thea Drex,” she said.

“You weren’t encouraged to think,” said Thyella. “We won’t let them get their hooks into you again.”