death's knight 15 cliffie bonus

 

Chapter 15

 

“You have Lazar Kron,” said Thorus Mils under a flag of truce.                   

“So we do,” said Lightfather Chrysandion, who had been brought up to speed by Pythas.

“We want to know what you want in order to give him back,” said Mils, sweating.

“We want you Selenites to go away and stay away,” said Chrysandion.

“Bravo! You can do succinct,” said Pythas, under his breath.

“Don’t start,” said Chrysandion, also in a low tone.

“You cannot mean that you expect us to withdraw for the life of one man?” said Mils

“But yes, that is exactly what we do expect,” said Chrysandion. “He was taken overseeing the torture of a harmless merchant and her entourage. My god may not like the Toróg but we acknowledge their right to exist, and to trade. And this is an outrage.”

Mils went red.

“Lazar Kron informed me that she is possibly the subject of a prophecy helpful to your side.”

“Then you will understand that we only give him up for any thing less than the absolute surrender of the Selenite Empire,” said Chrsandion.

“And I cannot possibly do that,” said Mils.

“We keep Lazar, then,” said Chrysandion. “Was there anything else?”

“....No...” said the deeply unhappy Mils.

 

“What happened about the Commandant in Kallos, or is it tactless to ask?” asked Chrysandion.

Pythas smiled grimly.

“Alethos went personally to inform him that our cult is opposing the Selenites, only he went in the guise of a messenger from me, to see for himself what it was like. Skerynos went off on a rant about me, and how I am too hasty and feckless. And then Alethos manifested fully in his office and gave him what I can only assume to be a right royal bollocking; obviously, he would not tell me, but Scrylos was moved to apologise to me the next Godday on the Godplane, and he seems to have got his finger out at last, and to look at things realistically, and truly embrace Alethos and realise that life is for living until we die, not accept things he thinks he cannot change.”

“Well, I hope he gets on with Erippion,” said Chrysandion.

Pythas sniggered.

“I’m sure life in Kallos will be interesting,” he said.

 

 

 

oOoOo

 

The heavy pulsing of the crystal womb flickered, and the light gradually died. And then Kaz was using stone cutting cantrips on its surface with delicacy and precision, cutting round the surface, weakening it and deepening the scored line she put upon it, working fast but trying not to go too fast, until a quick tap with the pommel of her sword was enough for the crystal to break, knocking away the shards so that life-bringing air could reach the High Toróg woman inside.

“Mistress!” cried Tan, sinking to the flat-footed squat, eyes averted, which was the trógling equivalent of kneeling.

“Hraazaz?” Kaz held out a hand to help her out, as Harkon lifted away the boat.

The eight-foot tall Toróg had glossy blue-black skin and shining silver hair, and six breasts. Harkon had done enough research to offer her a robe to put on.

“I believe I owe you a favour, Kaz of Alethos,” she said. “What, did only Tan survive?”

“The others are safe in the city where I sent them,” said Kaz. “No favour, we are equals and perhaps, against all my prejudices, friends.”

“That goes against all my prejudices too.”

“The sun will not fail to rise if we can manage to make a friendship work; we both want the same thing.”

“And what if you could help me with something I have secretly longed to do for many years if I only had the power and the chance?”

“And what is that?”

“To win Mycota from her unwilling marriage to Tor, and reunite her with Zog, son of Rogaz, lord of soil and rock, who loves her.”

“I will willingly help to rescue Mycota, but her choice shall be her own,” said Kaz.

The chime startled Hraazaz, but the Toróg noticed that neither Kaz nor Harkon seemed in the least surprised.

“Another step along the way,” said Harkon.

“So it would seem,” said Kaz.

“That chime,,,” said Hraazaz.

“Fate, letting us know that we are doing as we should,” said Kaz. “And time to plan for when Mycota is permitted out of the underworld to bless the fungi of the autumnal world.”

 

oOoOo

 

The meeting took place in a teaching hall in the temple to Alethos, and as well as Kaz’s usual team, Pythas and his wife were there, pretending not to notice Lelyn perched on Protasion’s knee. Thyella was perched on Harkon’s knee; and also there were Ralthur Kron; Chrysandion; Xanthos Brightspear, looking uncomfortable; and Hraazaz Rebirthed. Alethos joined them, and a rather uncomfortable looking male High Torog, who was Zog, Earthmoulder, who lurked behind Hraazaz. He and Thyella were in another temple by direct invitation from Alethos. Erytheon Sun-Toucher, the sun-seer had been brought in case any discussion set off a prophecy.

“Well, here we all are,” said Kaz. “All of us agreed that whatever other rivalries and dislikes we might have, we hate chaos and all its works. My Lord Zog, you are wondering what that has to do with Mycota, but according to ancient prophecies, the freeing of Mycota is one of the signs towards the start of the overthrow of the Interloper Gods.”

“I see. Thank you,” said Zog.  “I am informed that you quest to separate Trógling from Toróg and cure the curse?”

“Yes, and that begins this solstice,” said Kaz. “The timing works out nicely, which makes me suspect that Fate is cheating somewhat.  Lord Zog, are you in the habit of meeting with Mycota when she is permitted to the surface?”

“Yes, and I have confessed my love, which she professes to return,” said Zog.

“Well, that makes that part easier,” said Kaz. “What we need is to distract Tor whilst you spirit her off and hide... in someone else’s holy place.”

“My mother will not shield us against the wrath of Tor; they have to show a united face,” said Zog.

“That’s why Chrysandion is here,” said Kaz. “To intercede with Solos.”

Chrysandion spluttered.

“Are you insane?” he said.

“When the darkness stands with the light, then let chaos tremble,” intoned Erytheon.

“He doesn’t think so,” said Kaz.

“Well, at least I have a prophesy to give to my god,” said Chrysandion.

Erytheon slowly closed one eyelid over his filmy white, blind eye, turned towards Kaz. Kaz blinked. Was that a wink? That suggested that there was more depth to the sun-seer than she had realised!

“And as a misdirection to Tor, I have a couple of suggestions, neither of which anyone is going to like,” said Kaz.  “One is to occupy his time and mind, and the other is to turn his gaze away to what is happening around him.”

“Let’s run with the second first,” said Harkon.

“This relies on the fact that whilst humans and toróg have their different way of thinking, there are similarities which also stretch into animal kind,” said Kaz. “Whether you have a wolf menacing a fold of sheep, someone shouting ‘Fire!’ in a theatre, or the earthshift trembler sounding the gong in a tunnel, the instinct is to get away.  Very few people of any kind are sufficiently well disciplined to exit in an orderly manner. Sheep follow the bellwether, and if the gap of escape is small, there will be congestion and the exit will be jammed and likely enough there will be deaths. The same if you shout ‘Fire!’ in a theatre. Does anyone head for the stage, which is open, and at least a place from which to assess the danger? No. They head for the nearest exit, through the flammable wooden tiers of seating. When the gong is activated by the tremours of earth movement, be it an earthquake or avalanche, or fissure breaking open, most trógling and toróg flee. Trógling get trampled underfoot. Maybe a fight breaks out between two or three darklings trying to go through a choke-point only wide enough for one, as happens too in theatre doorways. The headlong flight to exit a danger-zone is an inbred instinct.”

“Kaz, stop lecturing, and get to the point,” said Lelyn. “You’re good at teaching neophytes but we got what you said and want to know where this is leading.”

“Sorry,” said Kaz. “And the next point needs Alethos to tell me whether the dead also panic and fear danger. Because as I understand it, Alethosi at least fight every day, and get up unhurt at the end of the day.”

“Ah, now here you come to the crux of the matter,” said Alethos. “My people fight, and their pseudobodies die, but reform; it’s only attacks on the spirit which cause real damage to the dead. Once the spiritual power is diminished to nothing, the spirit ceases to be, and there is no spark of being to revive. This is why there are long-held truces between Tor’s people and mine, as it could get ugly with raw spiritual combat.  His people are berserkers, and hone themselves as mine do, but they are also more easily provoked because the mind-set of any being does not significantly change for being dead, and the ability to fear and the tendency to react to fear remains.”

“And thank you for a fuller answer than just ‘yes,’” said Kaz. “Are there ever earthquakes in the underworld, dear?”

“Yes, occasionally,” said Alethos. “But religious enclaves are protected.”

“Oh, that stops that idea, then,” said Kaz.  “I don’t think I could engineer some spurious enemy for them to go off to and attack, and obviously a real enemy is out of the question. That means I shall have to distract him personally as an ambassador from you, to negotiate a treaty until the chaos gods are thrown down.”

Alethos choked.

“Have you any idea how risky that is, especially when he realises he has been distracted?” he managed.

“Yes, which is why it was plan B,” said Kaz. “But it’s what I have. If anyone else has any better idea, please suggest it.”

“They’d all be distracted by the hunt,” said Alethos.  “There are creatures in the underworld, you know; and hunting them for feasting is one of the ways we spend our time. There are Geryones, three-headed cattle, huge and fearsome, even the cows are more fearsome than earthly bulls.”

“How do they graze? Do they eat fungi?” asked Kaz.

“Oh, you are thinking that there is no light at all in the underworld; this is not so.  There are places where light comes through deep fissures, and as the sun passes overhead it can illuminate them, and also the light of the sun is seen at dawn and dusk. The size of the underworld is less than the world above, and every now and then, the Geryones herds go on a rampage to run from Dawn’s gates to Dusk’s, or the other way. Leading them near to the Lead Fortress of Tor and stampeding them will guarantee his interest,” said Alethos.

“How on earth am I supposed to do that?” said Kaz. “You may not have noticed, my dear, but I don’t reach five feet tall, and my voice is puny.”

“Thunderbolts!” said Thyella. “I can grant Harkon spells....”

“He’ll be needed to handle the undead guardians Tor will send watching over Mycota,” said Kaz.

“Oh, bother!  Well, then, I’ll come myself.”

“Would glowing make grass grow for them?” asked Phaedros. “Because if so, I might be able to herd them by providing some succulent grasses... I think I could make it work.”

“I hate having to rely on others,” said Kaz.

“You aren’t,” said Thyella. “You’re co-ordinating us all. And in touch with Alethos to poke Zog at the right moment.”

“Well, it sounds like a plan, as long as we can find the geryones,” said Kaz.

“You’ll find them,” said Alethos. “There are plenty of them.” He considered. “One thing you must remember is to take plenty of water. Geryones can store some water under their skins, and there is good water to be found in the underworld, but it is not as common as the world above, and you will want to make sure you have plenty.”

“Can one get water directly from under their skin?” asked Kaz.

“Yes, but beware, because drinking their blood can enhance your strength, one reason Tor’s berserkers value them, though they have less effect on pseudo bodies. But when enhanced,  for the living, it’s possible to rip muscles and tendons and also one feels very weak afterwards. A mix of their blood and milk makes a strength potion with fewer side effects.”

“How interesting,” said Kaz.

“You’re going to want me growing grass while you milk them, aren’t you?” said Phaedros.

“It struck me as useful,” said Kaz.

“I did mention it in expectation that you would want to bother to gather ingredients while you were there,” said Alethos, mildly. “You will, I assume, go via the road of the dead?”

“I thought so,” said Kaz. “I might get to see Iphianira....”

“I think that can be arranged,” said Alethos.

“Who is Iphianira?” asked Phaedros.

“She was one of the ghosts in the Ghostlands and I held her hand to help guide her onto the path Alethos opened up to draw her to his lands, as nobody else had actually gone amongst them to welcome them to their own afterlife.”

“You mean, you Alethosi dealt with the problem, not the sun monks?” burst out Chrysandion. “And it would have been that simple?”

“Well, it seemed simple to me,” said Kaz.

“Kaz sees past problems to solutions,” said Alethos. He was looking smug.

“Why did you let everyone think the sun monks had succeeded in their prayers?” asked Chrysandion.

“Oh, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” said Kaz. “Besides, staying out of the minds of certain people also seemed like a good idea at the time, to sneak around for a bit longer before it came time for the curse to fall upon me, and things start getting interesting.”

“I love her definition of ‘interesting,’” said Lelyn.

“Oh, come on! Life isn’t boring, is it?” said Kaz.

“By no means,” said Lelyn.

 

death's knight 14

 

Chapter 14

 

“We had an unexpected change of mission,” Rynn explained to Pythas. “The Darkling we need for Kaz’s mission had been captured and was being tortured. Kaz has her in a stone womb for rebirth into a High Toróg, and...”

“Powers!” cried Protasion. “That makes sense of another of those cryptic passages. ‘The daughter of darkness must be born again to aid with the dawning and the mother of shadow.’  Oh, there goes that dratted chime again.”

“We didn’t hear it in the tent,” said Rynn.

“We will when she emerges,” said Harkon. “We need to get help and food to Kaz and the other trógling, and help her hide a glowing crystal womb.”

“A couple of harmless fishermen on the river, and a big enough boat to pull out and put over it, and the trog... trógling,” suggested Ralthur Kron. “I want to question my cousin about why they seized the Darkling.”

“Walk him about the sewers for a few hours, then bring him into a light office,” suggested Polia.

“Organise it,” said Harkon. “Protasion, fancy going fishing?”

“Evgon’s better at making like a peasant,” said Protasion, regretfully.

“Fine, let’s go find some clothes, and arrange a boat,” said Harkon.

Evgon sniggered.

“The Selenites have no idea how easily we pass over and through their siege,” he said.

 

 

Kaz made her way cautiously along the river, and found a group of tróglings with a crystalline sphere, still glowing blue. They had made some attempt to cover it with vegetation to hide the glow, but as they were naked and had no tools had limited resources. Kaz cut some saplings and sharpened the points for the others to drive in with large stones to make a fence around the glowing rock, and showed them how to weave the side branches she had cut off in and out of the fence posts, whilst others brought river mud to daub onto the smaller branches. At the entrance, posts driven in front of the gap held short poles dropped behind these and the wall behind.

“Just in time,” muttered Kaz, hearing the light plash of oars from a small boat. “Drop flat!” she did so herself, and was copied by the other trógling.

 

“Is that a faint blue glow out of the top of that shack?” asked Evgon.

“It is,” said Harkon. “Make for the shore, and sing a good Alethosan hymn.”

“And look, it’s Kaz, waving,” said Evgon when they were a few bars into the hymn.

 

“These are friends,” said Kaz, to the other trógling, running to help Harkon and Evgon to bring the boat inshore.

“We brought food and clothes for the others,” said Harkon. “And you want to hide the blue glow from above.”

“It shows? Oh bother! The down side of being short,” said Kaz.

“That’s why we brought the boat,” said Harkon. “We were going to use it upside-down over the whole thing, but we can prop it up over the top and we have a heap of nets to hang off the side so you can lie low underneath the boat.  There are blankets in here too.”

“Can you leave me Tan, and take the other to safety when they’ve eaten?” said Kaz. “I’d feel happier.”

“Certainly,” said Harkon. “And Evgon will be mending nets if anyone asks.”

 

 

oOoOo

 

Lazar Kron was furious, frightened, and starting to become confused. He had been walked up and down a corridor in the pitch dark,  Pythas having decreed that a service tunnel in the temple should be used, not give away the secret of the sewers, and  Lazar was stumbling with tiredness. He had no idea that the hands turning him at each end and forcing him on were willing volunteers of trógling who did not like the way the Selenite Empire treated its slaves; as trógling were always available and were not considered much good as house servants, when a work gang had done their work, they were often used in what passed in the Empire as ‘comic turns’ in the arena, pitted against large gladiators, or a group of workmen with spades against wild animals. One trógling gladiator had made a name for himself, one Dróg, and one of the recently rescued trógling was in contact with him, being his brother, and the resistance group Dróg had set up in the Selenite capital, Selenopolis. Dróg was now a worshiper of Alethos and had been given contacts with the plainsfolk who were in revolt. Lazar did not know this, only that he had been up all night and was tired out, and it was something to do with one of his cousin’s slaves. He had recognised Kaz as the one who had brought wine to him when he was discussing the upcoming executions with Alenna Dren and Clodus Mils, if only because of her vibrant health.  He suspected his cousin of sleeping with that obviously feminine trógling, and despised his cousin for it.

At last, asleep on his feet, he was dragged to a room where the sun streamed blindingly in the window, and winced. Then he recognised his cousin behind the desk, despite the painful red mists from the glare of the sun. His jailors here were humans, who had taken him from the trógling.

“You!” he snapped. “You sent your slave to kidnap me!”

“Not a slave,” said Ralthur. “My colleague came to rescue Hraazaz Wealthbringer. Why on earth did you detain her? The Toróg merchants are usually considered neutral.”

Lazar was too furious at what he perceived as his cousin’s treachery, disoriented, and off guard in capture shock without expecting to be asked serious questions as there had been no suggestion of what he recognised as torture.

“She fulfils the prophecy,” he snapped. “‘The dark one with light hair must be stopped before she knows the Daykaz, when Shadow joins Dark and Light, let Chaos beware.’”

“Oh, that’s your version of it, is it? Thank you,” said Ralthur. “What do you know about the Daykaz?”

“No more than you do,” spat Lazar. “‘The New Dawn can bring down the Red Moon, and she must not become the beloved of Truth.’ Naturally, we have taken every opportunity to put down any female worshipper of any of the cults known as Knights of the Clear Skies, by marrying her forcibly to high ranking Selenites so she is spoiled goods, and we will put an end to the plainsfolk rite of putting their prettiest maiden in a hut for the winter solstice for their Son of Rebirth, who is surely synonymous with Pollonis, god of light and truth. We will raid every village and carry off these girls, and sell them as slaves.”

“Can you be sure that the Daykaz is not already the beloved of truth?” asked Ralthur.

“We know that Pollonis has one bastard but the prophesies around that one, is that he will aid in the revelation of the Daykaz, not that his mother is. She is a stupid and foolish woman, anyway, and Lord Daze has already taken steps to make sure that the sunspawn is ignorant and arrogant with no real skills.”

“I see,” said Ralthur.

“The Pollonis bastards would be gloating if Pollonis was ready to take a bride,” said Lazar.

“And you are certain it’s Pollonis who is named as Truth?” asked Ralthur.

“Who else could it be? His niece, Thyella stands for truth, but she is a female, and the Daykaz is named as female.”

“It might be a, ah, congruence of oysters,” said Ralthur.

Lazar looked panicked. Presumably he had not yet heard that the Celestial Virgin was no longer in that state.

“I... no,” he said. “That’s unlikely for some kind of rising fertility goddess, which is the other reason it can’t be Alethos.  It could be Polos, I suppose, or Librax but it doesn’t seem likely, any more than Thanos. Whoever heard of Death and Fertility combined outside of our own cult? Or are you apostate on the worship of Selen as well as a traitor?”

“I’m with Alethos now,” said Ralthur. “And yes, I dealt with the spirits of retribution from Thanos. He will need new ones. What, cousin, did you think me effete and feeble, or something?”

“Yes,” said Lazar, startled into honesty. “A governor’s position is luxurious, and you don’t have to do much, and I suppose you are degenerate enough to take the trogling to bed and that’s why you freed her so she is no slave, but is loyal to you.”

“Trógling, and no, she is no lover of mine, she has her own,” said Ralthur. “She’s a free trógling and nothing to do with my household.”

“But she served wine!”

“Well, yes, to be able to spy on you,” said Ralthur. “Really, do keep up, old boy. You were having talks with Clodus Mils and Alenna Dren. I thought she was too recognisable to pass, but all you noticed was that she has become shapely with many years good food.  I don’t think you have any more use to me, save as a hostage. Take him out.”

Lazar’s human jailors, grinning, dragged him to a cell usually used to sober up overly celebrant cultists.

 

oOoOo

 

Kaz and Tan sat in the hot, stuffy space under the boat, overheated even as summer turned to autumn,  as Evgon sat with netting tools and looking as if he knew how to use them. The boat was arranged so that Kaz could go and check on the crystal sphere.

“So, uh, if you needed something to do and wanted anyone to give you a good time...” said Tan.

“We have something to do. Wait quietly until Hraazaz needs us,” said Kaz. “You’re her most trusty slave, so she will be glad to see you.  And I have more ability to help her than many a High Toróg.  There’s not a lot we could do under here, anyway.”

“I was thinking we could get it on together,” said Tan.

“You surely don’t mean sex, do you?” said Kaz. “Why on earth do you think I’d lay with a virtual stranger when I already have a lover?”

“You excite me; you are powerful and shapely, and...”

“And unavailable,” said Kaz, firmly. “Keep your hands to yourself, Tan, and you won’t lose either of them.”

“You talk like a mistress,” said Tan, sulkily, snatching a questing hand back.

“Well, yes,” said Kaz. “You chose to remain a slave. I, and Rynn, chose to be free. Now, hush; and if you have the energy, you can stay awake while I catch up on my sleep.”

She rolled over and promptly went to sleep, being well trained.

Tan resented, but did not for one moment think that she was sufficiently deeply asleep to get away with any unauthorised fondling.

 

Kaz was alert at the sound of the first searchers. The other guards would have looked for their fellows at the changing of the guard if not before, and moreover, it would have gone quiet in the tent. Once the two guards and Quirinus Lex were freed, and the torturer found to be dead, and Lazar Kron vanished, someone would have thought to wake Thorus Mils, brother of the late Clodus, and ask for orders.  Mils would have come to look, doubtless made the sign of the crescent at the sight of the mysterious gate drawn on the ground. Then, a good soldier would send out searchers, because nobody knew how far the supposed gate could take people, and there had to have been gossip of previously rescued people having been seen not far away.

Hence, a patrol came upon the boat.

“Hey! Fisherman! Have you seen any trogs or troglings?” barked the officer involved.

“Recently, you mean, your honour?” said Evgon, scratching the back of his head.

“Since last night,” barked the officer.

“Oh! No,” said Evgon, who knew he had seen no trogs or troglings, only a cocooned Toróg and tróglings. “I seen a Darkling once,” he volunteered.

“When? Where?” barked the officer. Evgon scratched his head again.

“Happen that must of been the spring fair,” he said. “He looked mean. I don’t want to see him again.”

“This idiot knows nothing, sir,” said another.

“What’s your name, and where do you live?” barked the officer.

Evgon stared at him in slack jawed incomprehension.

“Why, everyone knows who I am,” he said. “Everyone who counts, that is, which is everyone in Smikropolis.”

“I don’t come from your stinking little fishing village, however, I come from the real world,” snapped the officer.

“Oh, I’m sorry, your honour, if I’d known you had a stick up your arse I’d have saluted it,” said Evgon. “You rely on my stinking little fishing village among others to feed your troops though, so if I was you, I’d not get too excitable. Everyone knows Plutan the Lucky.”

“Well, don’t cross our troops again, Plutan,” said the officer, who knew fine well what would happen to an officer who made the villagers stop selling their wares to their quartermasters. He was well enough aware that the prices had doubled since the siege, but without designating half the army to fish or farm, they had to accept ‘inflation due to war,’ and smile and pay.

Evgon settled back when the soldiers had gone, and broke out food for himself and the two trógling.

“You’re hilarious when you get going, Evgon,” said Kaz. “Is there a Plutan the Lucky?”

“Yes, and he’s a popular fellow. Nobody who was hiding something would be likely to be so rude,” said Evgon.  “It’s safe, I think, to pop out for food and air, and a stretch.”

 

Nothing more exciting happened, and darkness again fell whilst the Selenite army searched futilely for their missing prisoners.

Harkon rowed down river in another boat, to relieve Evgon, and as midnight approached, the crystal womb started pulsing, its blue light becoming achingly white in pulses between quieting to an almost darkened blue. And Kaz sang songs used for birthing as the pulses became faster.

 

Death's Knight 13

 with luck, that's over - it took all day for him to fit the heater after he arrived, very stressful but now! hot water. We've had constant crap since October 2025 when we got the massive water bill and it was a leak; the water company were fast and fantastic, so was the insurance company, and the repair people but!!!! it took until the end of January this year to persuade the council to give permission to dig up a two foot square of pavement without needing to close two roads and bring in traffic lights. Ongoing also through this was the need for a part for the car, which had to come from Volvo and which they hung us about over, until they said, oh, we can't be bothered to import such a small but vital thing. Our local garage then sourced what was needful on ebay in one day. And then there was the gas people digging up the road with all that noise for days on end - a good thing to replace the gas pipes, but disruptive, and what caused our original reliable little water heater to break down, from the gas being off. And I am grateful to them for trying to repair it, and replacing it when that was impossible, but oh! it has taken such a while. Oh, and just as they finished digging up the road, the Borough Council dug up the road to put four e-vehicle charging bays in.  In a blue-collar neighbourhood which doesn't have the sort of housing which even has parking on the residents' properties and has to rely on on-street parking. 

Well, I feel better for a good moan; please pray that all the little straws on our back have gone. I'm not sure I can survive another stress situation. 

Chapter 13

 

The journey back to the city was uneventful, save the last part when the party disembarked, which proved to be a mile of hastily erected palisades, manned by city guards.

“What, are they trying to besiege us?” said Harkon.

“Trying,” said a Pollonis initiate laconically. “As we have a palisade all the way to the lake each side, they can’t stop us getting supplies, which makes a mockery of a siege.”

“Time for some sport,” said Kaz, happily. “Rynn, are you up for slipping out of the city at night and tying a pretty hair ribbon in the hair of every commander?”

Rynn sniggered.

“But the risk!” said Phaedros.

“That’s the sport of it,” said Rynn. “And to show them it could have been a knife in their throats.”

“Is it too subtle?” asked Kaz. “Should we leave little knives by their pillows?”

“Hair ribbons are funnier,” said Rynn. “Zon would have loved it.”

“He’s sniggering,” said Kaz, able to hear the response of the dead trógling who was her familiar spirit. “And of course, blue hair ribbons, for the Blue Moon.”

 

Two shadows left a culvert shortly after midnight, removing the bars at its exit which slipped back into place without showing that they were held with a bolt on the inside of the grille. In absolute silence the two shadows slid into the Selenite camp, the command tents obvious for being larger and more ornate than those occupied by the soldiery.

Lights were still shining in some of the command tents; apparently from the number of shadows cast on the walls of one, there was some kind of executive meeting. Kaz and Rynn were not about to miss an opportunity like this and slid up to the skirts of the tent.

Kaz stiffened at the first words she heard.

“... Haven’t been able to get any sense out of that blasted Darkling female about why she is here. She still claims trading, and she ate the trógling which said she was on some sort of mission for her goddess.”

“I hope you separated them to question separately,” said the voice of Lazar Kron.  “They are weak creatures and will soon break under torture, even if this Haara female holds out.”

Kaz held a rapid conversation with Rynn with hand gestures.

Putting ribbons in hairs became a secondary mission now; rescue was needed.

 

The high pitched scream of a trógling voice galvanised the two trógling women, and they homed in on the direction with their sensitive ears, making a cautious way to the tent from which it issued, inside the Selenite camp lines, with hastily erected barricades and ditches but at the edge. Kaz made a couple of hand signals, directing Rynn to follow her round to the back of the tent where the prisoners were held, a sensible precaution as there were a squad of ten Selenite soldiers outside, alert and ready. There was a deeper groan of a Darkling voice, plainly trying not to show pain.

Kaz and Rynn had been practising their use of darksense to send short and longer ultrasonic pings which they were developing into a code to communicate above the hearing of humans, and Kaz used the pattern used by slave masters in calling to trógling slaves using whistles, ‘get ready, get ready.’ It was a risk that the trógling within would not give it away, or any Greater Toróg slaves she had, like the one Kaz had slain in the challenge over Rynn.

There were a number of inarticulate pings returned. Message received and understood.

Kaz risked easing out a tent peg to cautiously peer into the large, circular tent. To one side was a wooden construction, a frame with supporting beams at an angle behind it to hold it up and pegs along the top. The half dozen trógling hung from these pegs like discarded clothes, hands lashed together to casually hang them from, and were in various states of wounded. The Darkling merchant was stretched out with her feet on the floor, but spread, tied to pegs, as the Selenite torturer began cutting off one of her lower breasts. Hraazaz was plainly of high status as she had four breasts, and her hair, currently matted with blood, was a pale blue. She held priestly glyphs, Kaz was aware that she could now sense this, and could ask to take the risk of entering a stone womb to emerge as a Greater Toróg, which would either elevate her to the original form of her people, or kill her; and the greater number of Greater Toróg features she had, the better the chance of change. 

The tent was well-lit by lanterns, a disadvantage to the Toróg and tróglings. Indeed, a lantern was set to shine directly into the eyes of the Darkling, whose eyelids were taped open, and were bloodshot.

Kaz slid back.

If she brought the tent down, it would alert the guards outside.

If she fought the guards outside, it would alert the whole camp.

Inside, there was a torturer and a scribe, taking down anything that was said, presumably either using a translation spell, or knowledgeable of the Toróg language, in either case probably a high-ranking initiate or glyph-priest of Librax, the Selenite counterpart to Polos.

The torturer was taking no notice of the scribe, and Kaz moved round the tent to be behind the Libraxian. Her knife made a quick slit in the tent, and the next thing the scribe knew was that he had a knife at his throat. Silently Rynn followed Kaz in, and made short work of tying up the scribe’s hands with some of the blue ribbon they had brought, and equally tying his feet to the desk on which he worked. He would have a hard time struggling out of the tent to rouse the alarm. His own kerchief made a gag.

Kaz moved forward.

“How about picking on someone armed, you bloodmoon bastard?” said Kaz.

The torturer whirled round, saw a trógling, and laughed.

Kaz had only her knife; she had no intention of letting the scribe speak of her sword of light. It was an ace in the hole to be preserved for as long as possible as a secret. The torturer advanced on Kaz, grinning. “I don’t know how you got away when we took your mistress, but you’re about to be gutted,” he said.

“Your profession is vile; I’m going to kill you,” said Kaz.

Perhaps it was that the light in the tent shining on her heavy knife added a golden sheen to it, that the torturer did not immediately recognise it as iron; or perhaps he just dismissed the idea that a trógling might wield an iron blade. Whichever the reason, he did not react to her weaponry, and swung at her with the vicious knife he had been using to carve off Hraazaz’s breasts. Kaz swayed effortlessly out of the way, feinted, and as he attacked again, parried.

His blade, sharp but brittle, shattered.

He grabbed another knife and came at her, but Kaz ducked, swayed, and came up under his attack to slit open his belly.

He screamed, and Kaz muttered an imprecation. She had planned to run her knife up under the ribcage and into his heart, but she was less practised with a knife than with a sword. Rynn leaped to the door of the tent, grabbing some sickle-shaped knife which she knelt to hold at ankle height in case of soldiery running in. 

There appeared to be no interest from outside; the torturer’s scream had been sufficiently high pitched that the guards ignored it.

Kaz finished him off and went over to Hraazaz.

“Your presence... is timely... Kaz of Alethos,” said Hraazaz. “But I fear, not timely enough... unless your healing is as formidable... as your fighting. I... I have lost too much blood.”

She was badly wounded in many places. Kaz pulled the tape from her eyelids, allowing them to droop.

“Cut down the trógling, Rynn, and put out some of the lanterns,” said Kaz. “Alethos! Is she close to death?”

“Yes, my love, her spirit is close to the Hall of Waiting,” the god’s voice spoke in her mind.

“Hraazaz, you are a priestess?”

“Yes...”

“Alethos, please get Rogaz in line with this....”

“What are you up to?”

“Sweet Moon, blue light, gift your daughter growth this night.

Thou Rogaz, Luna Blue, gift your daughter with growth true,”

Hraazaz’s eyelids flickered.

“You know the ritual....”

Kaz was using the digging cantrip frantically, and excavated a hole deep enough for Hraazaz’s body, cut her down, and eased her into it, casting healing spells as she did so, putting the Darkling’s breast back on to seal it back down.

“It’s not rock, but it’s what I have,” she said, using a cantrip to solidify earth into a dome above Hraazaz, a thin enough layer that it was like a muddy crystal, and showed that blue light burst out of Hraazaz’s body.  Hraazaz screamed. Kaz turned her attention to healing the trógling.

“Scream a lot, you six, and pray silently to Rogaz for your mistress,” said Kaz. “Rogaz, I implore you, accept their worship, and give them initiation for their love for Hraazaz.”

 

“Your trógling has a cheek! She is not even one of mine, yet she calls on me with my ritual!” cried Rogaz-Luna. “And demands I initiate trógling!”

“She isn’t one of yours but she is trying to save one of yours, and she has my support and I will loan her and you power for this one is surely long prophesied by your people?” said Alethos.

“‘Born lesser, only the least will drag her from the Red Moon to become one with the Blue,

Born again from earth not stone to rise as heroine anew,’” said Rogaz-Luna sulkily.

“Well, that says it clearly enough,” said Alethos. “I have her spirit in my hands, wavering at the gates but it still has attachment to her body so I’m not going to complain if you rebuild that body.”

“You’re less of an old grouch than I thought you.”

“I oppose the interloper moon and her filthy brother too.”

 

Kaz was glad of her stored power, and that she had grown enough in her spiritual core to be able to channel it, or three of the six would have died. The other three were hurt, but from fighting for their mistress more than from systematic torture. They stood, after healing, and looked at Kaz and Rynn with amazement.

“Rynn? Is that you? Is that not the one who killed Torg to win you?” whispered one.

“Yes, Tan, this is my friend, Kaz,” said Rynn. “She’s going to be goddess of trógling one day, but I think you belong to Rogaz.”

“It’s a bit scary,” said Tan. “We didn’t want to leave Mistress Hraazaz when it was offered, and she has treated us all very well since. The one who betrayed her was a new one, replacing Zon. The one replacing you is loyal as well.”

“She will need it,” said Kaz. “Carry on taking turns to scream and wimper; this could take some time. Rynn, scout outside, I don’t want any surprises.”

Rynn slithered off and Kaz took up vigil over the crystalised earth.

“I’ve heard of the ritual,” said Tan, tentatively.  “Our mistress was considering undertaking it. She planned to do so at the solstice, but she was summoned to come to this place to be here as soon as possible and work with... with you. She was sore about it! And then, the Selenites jumped us in a tavern, and killed Gort and Trurg, her bodyguards, and brought us here and started asking questions about where we were going and why. They had a prophecy, something about beware the daughter of the blue moon.”

“Incoming!” Rynn slithered back into the tent. “It’s Lazar Kron himself!”

“A valuable hostage,” said Kaz. “We’ll take him alive. Tan, there’s some rope here, hold it taut with Rynn to trip him.”

 

Lazar Kron strode into the torture tent, and measured his length on the cold ground, biting his tongue as his chin hit the earth. A knife filled his vision.

He looked up past it.

“You!” he said.

“I wouldn’t say any more if I was you,” said Kaz, quietly. Lazar Kron opened his mouth and managed a strangled ‘Guards!’ before Kaz hit him scientifically on the temple with her knife’s haft.

Kaz drew the hilt of her light-sword.

There was some discussion outside the tent over whether the inquisitor had called or not. Interrupting him when he did not want them would not be popular.

“Skyrock, cloak, sword,” said someone. This was a Selenite game for choosing when one made a fist for skyrock, a flat hand for cloak, or a curved shape for the Selenite curved sword. Skyrock broke sword, sword cut cloak, and cloak wrapped skyrock, in memorial of the spell invented by the Selenite cult heroine, Thea Drex, whose cloak floated like a roof and was hardened to protect those under it from rocks summoned from the sky by one of her companions, sheltering those who were faithful. Two were quickly chosen, and came cautiously into the tent. Tan and Rynn tripped them up and Kaz hit them on the heads while they were still stunned. Rynn organised the tróglimg into pairs to listen and man the trip-wire, whilst Kaz tied up and gagged Lazar Kron and his guards.

“This wasn’t necessarily the best place and time to do the rebirth ritual,” said Rynn.

“She was dying; without help from her own goddess, I didn’t think I could save her,” said Kaz. “And I had a feeling that a direct touch from Rogaz would push her over the brink into rebith, anyway. The weight of the touch of gods is considerable; and Rogaz, even maimed, is a major goddess.”

 

“Your tool is not perhaps as foolish as I thought her,” admitted Rogaz.

“My beloved is shrewd and instinctive,” said Alethos. “How is it going? I would like them away from there before daylight.”

“It normally takes a full day round.”

“I do not like to intervene directly to lift them out.”

“I will gift my new initiates with the spells of earthwalking, and remove my daughter; let your children leave by such means as they may.”

 

Alethos relayed this to Kaz, who sniggered.

“We’ll wait for Rogaz.... somewhere near the river would be good. And we’ll use that false runic circle again, around the hollow that is likely to be left. As soon as I’ve knocked out the Libraxian. . I think I recognise him; I think he’s Quirinus Lex, who used to work for Ralthur Kron and is a spy, but it’s not an excuse to kill him.”

 

Shortly after, the glowing  crystal sank into the ground, and Rynn patted Tan on the back as he led his fellow slaves after it. Kaz drew the convincing runic circle on the ground and slid out at the back of the tent, leaving two unconscious guards, an unconscious scribe, and a dead torturer. Lazar Kron floated stiffly on a stretcher spell, and Kaz sent Rynn up the downpipe with him, a strip of cloth over his eyes in case he was feigning unconsciousness, and went in search of the rebirth crystal.