Addendum to chapter 7

 I realised I had not made use of the full potential of Fadabius and Aquilix, so here's a little insert for them:

 

Fadabius and Aquilix discovered that they had the entrée to all public offices, and the right to demand to look at every file. 

“I know we were mostly verifying those people who might be able to form a revolution, but have you considered what an opportunity this is?” said Ralthur.

“Plant false notes?” asked Harkon.

“Well, that as well,” said Ralthur. “But have you any idea how much a few spurious work orders could tie up the bureaucracy?  A memo to have work cleared by a man who does not exist, before it can be written off; an invoice for forty-thousand nails which have not arrived; an order sent out for seven thousand leather drinking jacks, and a cancellation on an order for picks for a street mending crew....”

“You’re a genius,” said Harkon. “A notice condemning the new house bricks as substandard and a demand for replacements, which must include the mortar, already smoothed to repel rain.”

“It would dry out; and you can’t smooth and shape the mortar until the bricks are together.”

They sniggered, and set about making spurious work orders.

The chaos which ensued was an exercise in sheer mayhem. Builders were issued with cheese making equipment and the cheese makers were sent ritual materials. Bronze sent for to make swords and spears for the army was diverted to make decorative balconies for all the patrician frontages, paid for by the city, and sand for the arena was dumped in the harbour, where the ensuing sandbank made it a hazard to shipping. Ships received orders to sail to pick up spurious orders, and were unavailable for needed supplies. Once a few things had been set off, all they had to do was to sit back, and enjoy it.

 

Destiny's Queen 15

 

Chapter 15

 

“Daze! I can’t feel Aima at all! You said Phaedros was hopeless! What have you done?”

“What do you mean, what have I done? She’s your daughter. You should have protected her.”

“I would have done, if you had not reassured me that Phaedros was not likely to hurt her; it’s your fault for your failure to neutralise him like you said you had.”

“I don’t understand it; he was nothing but a posturing, pompous fool, and Pollonis sent him as ambassador to the Alethosi, who were bound to offend him, as he would have offended them with his effete ways. It was a lovely plot, I don’t know why it went wrong.”

“My daughter is dead! Destroyed! My worshippers are in revolt! What can I do?”

“You can take on the maintenance of the blood suckers so they don’t decay,” suggested Daze.

“I... maybe. They are high maintenance tools.”

“Up to you to decide if they are worth it.  I’ll let some of my riddlers loose to try to sow some dissention.”

“I suppose that’s about all you can do.”

 

oOoOo

 

The temple to Alethos was established, the visiting Alethosi might start hunting bloodsuckers and their human initiates.

A slave walked warily into the temple.

“Please, I am to give a letter to whoever is in charge,” he said.

Harkon held out a hand.

The slave gave him the letter, and Harkon read it.

“To the rebels, greetings. This slave will confirm that he is a temple slave, and that the empress is a hostage to your behaviour. If you are not in the street kneeling in expectation of arrest and execution your empress and her daughters will be exsanguinated slowly in public.

Cruentus, priest of Aima.”

“I confess, if it was just the empress, I’d not mind so much,” said Harkon. “But as I recall, she has four daughters younger than Tallys.”

“She does,” said Tallys, who was pale. “And there’s my father as well, and I am fond of him. He’s the clever one, but he has no power in the realm.”

“I wonder if he’d rule fairly if your mother were deposed,” said Harkon.

“He wouldn’t like it,” said Tallys.

“Like it? He doesn’t have to like it,” said Harkon. “I don’t like being a god, but it’s my duty until my son is born to it and grows into the power. I’m only god of storms temporarily, my girl, because Ombros asked me to do it as he lay dying.”

“Oh!” said Tallys. “I suppose that brings home doing your duty.”

“Velg!” called Harkon.

The mining trógling ran up.

“Palace?” said Harkon.

“Not a problem, my lord,” said Velg. “Good, big drains. Much waste from a palace.”

“So, not blowing in with whirlwind and thunder, but slightly soiled Alethosi from below,” said Protasion, happily. “What you might call the turd division of water-borne infantry... well, something-borne.”

“So many toilet jokes, so little time,” murmured Ralthur. “They’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Only if we leave anyone alive to figure it out,” said Harkon. “I don’t know if you noticed, but when we went out with the virgin slaves, I left a sketchy circle with Kaz’s pretend runic array on them, mostly apparently scuffed out. The second time we left a little more noisily. Speaking of leaving noisily, any sign of Phaedros and Rynn?” he added, a little worried. He reached out mentally. Phaedros had sacrificed to him to have a worshipper’s connection.

“Phaedros? Are you and Rynn hurt?”  asked Harkon.

“No, we got hungry,” said Phaedros’s voice in his mind. “We stopped to eat, which gave us the strength to winnow through the rest of the nasty pieces of work here. One high priest, four other blood suckers, and a couple of dozen initiates or lay members aspiring to be initiates. The priests didn’t much like me glowing at them, and we sliced up the rest. Nice little fight.”

“Good man. There are children, hostages at the palace. If you and Rynn can guard Lelyn here and hold the fort, the rest of us can go in.”

“We’ll be back directly,” said Phaedros.

He and Rynn appeared in a shaft of light through the window.

“That’s beyond weird as the sun is on the other side,” said Harkon.

“It only needs to come from the sky,” shrugged Phaedros. 

“Lelyn!” said Rynn. “I need girl-time. I never killed a god before.”

“Let’s go and have a cup of tea,” said Lelyn. “And you can tell me how well Phaedros performed, glowing in his skivvies.”

“He doesn’t wear any, and he performed very well,” said Rynn, with a wicked little grin at a blushing, but grinning, Phaedros.

It was late afternoon; and though Harkon may not have cared much if the empress died, it would not be pleasant for Tallys or her sisters, however much Tallys might be at odds with her mother.

They came out of the drains in a washroom for the slaves.

Tallys led the way towards the royal apartments,  having removed the dye from her hair so she was recognisable; any palace slaves got out of the way of the armed band marching grimly through the corridors.

“Tallys, I’ve seen at least a dozen slaves; are your family so hated that they would not band together to at least rescue your sisters?” asked Harkon.

“But they have not been given orders,” said Tallys. “If you are a slave, you can’t get into trouble if you only follow orders, whoever ends up in charge.”

“It’s going to have to go, you know,” rumbled Harkon.

“But how will we manage without slaves?” asked Tallys.

“Pay them and learn how to stir your own precious little legs,” said Harkon.

“You can be quite offensive, you know,” said Tallys.

“Thank you,” said Harkon. “Is this your sisters’ suite?”

“Yes,” said Tallys, stiffly.

Harkon booted in the door, and the four terrified little girls discovered that the nightmarish men who were taunting them, and laying improper hands on them died very quickly at the hands of the scary man shedding thunderbolts.

Tallys ran to hug them.

“You stay put here, with Dróg and guard them,” said Harkon.

The Imperial Prince Consort joined in the fight when they found him next.

“Go to your daughters,” said Harkon.

The empress was in her bedroom with a bloodsucker; and she was giving herself to him with every apparent appearance of pleasure; and had his mark at her neck. She was very pale....

She had been inducted into the cult, and was undead. Harkon’s roared abjuration of undead was backed up not only by a lot of power, but also by his personal anger and scorn.

The bloodsucker who was servicing her turned into a leathery mummy before crumbling; Empress Auralia merely dried up to a husk. Harkon burned the bodies.

And then it was just a case of rounding everyone up.

 

Harkon went back to the sitting room of the girls.

“I’m very sorry; I was too late to save your mother,” he said, harshly.

“She accepted priesthood of Aima,” said the consort, dully.

“I wasn’t going to tell them,” said Harkon.

“We knew, my lord,” said the oldest after Tallys.

“Well, I am sorry, but I cannot permit the abomination of undead,” said Harkon.

“She was going to drain daddy and us!” said the youngest, shrilly.

“Oh. Well, then, I don’t apologise at all,” said Harkon. “Prince, er, Gordion, will you rule fairly, and work towards eliminating slavery by paying servants instead and abjuring slaving?”

“If I don’t, you’ll put someone else in,” said Gordion, shrewdly. “And what of the Blood Moon?”

“A temporary inconvenience,” said Harkon.

Gordion nodded.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Oh, thank Tallys for calling on me,” said Harkon. “Now perhaps I can go home.”

The Alethosi returned to the temple to begin sorting out putting in local incumbents to run it; and Phaedros took Rynn and Lelyn back to Mesolimnos, before going to have a difficult conversation with his father.

“You will marry me, won’t you, Rynn?” said Phaedros.

“Oh, yes, if you want me!” said Rynn. “I... I am not lovely like Aima, who affected you so.....”

“Stop right there!” said Phaedros. “I managed to show an apparent interest in Aima by imagining you in that robe.... I must get you a crimson silk robe... which was very effective. I found her overblown and... well, too much of a not very good thing.”

“Oh, Phaedros!” said Rynn.

“I was waiting to find a way to make you immortal,” said Phaedros. “I knew you’d worry about it if you weren’t.”

“You know me very well.”

“It’s one of the things marriage should be about,” said Phaedros. “Knowing each other inside and out... er....” he blushed.

“I do understand,” said Rynn, turning purple with her own flush. She hastily turned the subject. “Phaedros, as Aima had an insatiable hunger for blood, do you think she was more of a diety than a deity?”

Phaedros roared with laughter at this pun, and kissed his beloved.

 

oOoOo

 

“I am going to marry Rynn, father, and if you won’t bless our union, I’ll ask Alethos to officiate,” said Phaedros. “She’s an associate priest of yours, for goodness sake! And grandfather agreed that trógling are shadow people.”

“But she’s a mortal, and has no power base to add to yours, no political advantage to give you,” said Pollonis, confused. “Why marry her? She’ll be honoured to be your mistress for as long as she has any attractions for you – not that I can see any – and bear you a child or two, maybe, which will please the trógling, that you have honoured their race in adding light blood to the dark of the toróg.”

“You obviously miss the point of marriage, father,” said Phaedros, coldly. “According to our own book of worship it is a meeting of like souls. And Rynn is my soulmate. I could care less about politics or advantage. The advantage is that she has always been there for me, she loves me, and I love her. And I find her very attractive; I had to think of her to look on Aima in any way but disgust.”

“It isn’t easy giving mortals immortality, you know,” warned Pollonis.

“That’s not a problem; she ripped it from Aima when we killed her,” said Phaedros.

“You... but you had help, of course?”

“Yes, Rynn helped me,” said Phaedros. “What, father? I’ve been training under Alethos for years.”

“And would you take any notice of my disapproval?” asked Pollonis.

“I would be saddened,” said Phaedros.

“And if I forbade it?”

“Even if you stripped me of my powers as your son, it would not make me forsake her,” said Phaedros.

“I can’t do that; they were born into you,” said Pollonis. “But why? Why a trógling?”

“Her race doesn’t matter; I love her,” said Phaedros.

“I... need to come to terms with this; leave me,” said Pollonis.

Phaedros left, and Pollonis sent for his other son, Polos, god of knowledge.

“Phaedros is making a terrible mistake,” he said. “He has become infatuated with some trógling who is doubtless making up to him, for his power.”

“Oh?” said Polos. “I thought he was enamoured of some Alethosi female warrior.”

Pollonis shrugged.

“I don’t know what she is,” he said crossly. “I know! I  will test this girl! Polos, my son, distract your brother, Phaedros by asking him all about the organisation of Aima’s temple; he will believe that you want to know every last detail.”

“I do,” said Polos. “It should be written down to preserve for history.”

Pollonis smiled, grimly. Polos could be relied upon to ask Phaedros to tell him everything in tedious detail, so he did not notice Pollonis testing Rynn.

           

oOoOo

 

Rynn went shopping in the market whilst Phaedros was requested to visit the temple of Polos to leave notes for posterity. She thought it only right that he should be remembered and honoured. More pressing to her, however, was dressing for him on their wedding day, in the traditional Solosian yellow gown, but in a yellow which suited her. Her skin was a greyer blue than Kaz’s skin tone, and some yellows made it look unhealthy. She found a deep primrose which she thought would do nicely, and purchased enough for a gown. She planned on a loose undergown, which a hip-length overgown caught with a gold cord criss-crossed at the waist, to make the most of her small bosom and neat waist.

Rynn became aware of someone beside her, and turned to see the beautiful, golden haired figure she recognised as Pollonis. He was not shining, but he was not hiding his charisma. Rynn was used enough to those in her immediate and eclectic family letting their charisma escape from time to time, and decided that she was not going to be intimidated by him, whatever reason he had for wanting to intimidate her. And especially if he had any intent of trying to stop the marriage of his half mortal son.

“My lord?” she said, with a slight frown.

“Why don’t you walk with me?” said Pollonis. “You will be lovely in that colour.” Rynn’s frown deepened slightly.

“Someone who represents the truth should be careful not to lie to a glyph-lord of a truth cult,” said Rynn, tartly. “Have you forgotten that I can sense truth? I am not so insecure that it troubles me that there are some people who find trógling unattractive. There’s only one person whose opinion counts to me.”

Pollonis turned up his charisma a trifle. This was not going according to plan.

“Maybe my tastes need education,” he said, smiling brilliantly at her. “My cousin, after all, is enamoured of his bride.” He ran a hand down her face.

Rynn stiffened, and thumped him hard in the groin.

Pollonis doubled up in shock as much as any pain.

“How dare you behave so to your son!” she yelled. “What is it, jealousy that he can find a woman to share his life with, and you cannot?  Well, tough luck! And you can send your spirits of retribution if you like, I cannot worship a philanderer who betrays his glyph of truth by acting like a knave! And be sure I will be telling Alethos about this!”

A hand touched her shoulder, and she whirled, to see Alethos.

“He knows,” said Alethos. “Your prayer was wordless, but cogent. Cousin, I suggest we take this out of the public eye, out of the market place, and waft a discreet forgetfulness aura over the common folk here.  My halls. Now. Rynn, dear one, go home. I’ll see that Phaedros knows.”

“He’s talking to Solos,” said Rynn, trying not to sob.

“No, he’s about to collect you to escort home,” said Alethos, and as he spoke, Phaedros walked out of the temple of the god of knowledge to come over to her.

“What’s happening?” he asked, entering the bubble of near god-being which Alethos had thrown up.

“Take Rynn home, and I’ll find out,” said Alethos.  “Pollonis was just coming to my halls to explain.”

 

 

Note: it is a cliffie but I am running a bit low on chapters. I am hoping to wrap 20 today but as usual I am having pacing-as-we-reach-the-denouement issues so bear with me if you call for a bonus and we end up with a day or two hiatus later.  

Destiny's Queen 14

 

Chapter 14

 

 

Phaedros followed the thread of power to the side of the old temple to Selen. Doubtless there were many subterranean levels which Harkon had not entirely destroyed with his whirlwind passage out, in the part occupied by the worshippers of Aima.

“Who goes there?” a pair of rough-looking men stepped forward.

“I heed the call of the blood queen,” said Phaedros, dreamily.

“Who is that with you?”

“My body slave will see to my apparel whilst I satisfy the blood queen’s needs,” said Phaedros.

They regarded him. Rynn hung back, and kept her eyes lowered, dropping to the squat which was the position of submission of trógling.

“He’s pretty enough,” said one of them.

“I’ll show him to the high priest,” said the other.

Rynn followed as Phaedros was led forward. A building had been erected, probably using the labour of Nekrosti, and they were led inside. Rynn worshipped Kaz as well as Alethos, and made use of the spell to merge with shadows, which would make her almost completely ignored. There were a lot of shadows in the temple to Aima, and Rynn followed down several flights of steps, managing to slip through doors before they were closed behind her. She knew from Alethosian teachings that powerful bloodsuckers could put out a call of hunger and attract the weak minded to them; and not always the weak minded, if others were caught unawares.

They went into a luxurious suite of rooms where Rynn sensed undead, and fought to keep herself under control; here was the chief priest in candlelit splendour, the lighting doubtless for the convenience of the human servants and initiates. Several chained girls were reclining on the bed and sofas. They looked half drugged, and probably were. Rynn was careful to stay merged with the shadows and move slowly and with deliberation when the high priest bloodsucker looked away; he probably would not be fooled as human eyes would be.

“This one has felt our goddess’s hunger and longs to offer himself to her,” said the human.

“So young and full of blood, so fair, so lively,” murmured the vampire, cupping Phaedros’s face in his hand. “Oh, not a devotee to the joys of two snakes, eh? Well, perhaps if the Blood Queen finds him vigorous enough, she might share him before finishing him. I will take him through; you may go.”

Rynn was much relieved.

Following the bloodsucker would be easier than crossing the room under his eye.

 

If the bloodsucker’s apartment was sumptuous, that of his goddess made it look plain. Crimson velvet hung in drapes everywhere, and on the floor was a carpet of silk, in black with red roses. Golden roses and caryatids held the drapes, and a goblet shaped like an opened rose stood on a side table.

“You have brought me a most worthy gift, Antonax,” purred Aima, regarding Phaedros intently. “And he is not unpowerful so he will last better than some.” Phaedros was hiding most of his power by having placed a reserve on the godplane, in the way many gods used when wanting to interact with mortals, so as not to overwhelm them. Aima was not bothering to subdue her aura, but used it to intimidate and fascinate. Rynn fought it; she was used to being in the presence of more powerful deities than Aima, after all.

The bloodsucker bowed deeply, and withdrew. Aima regarded Phaedros. She was beautiful, with white skin, dark red hair, and red lips. The red eyes were more disturbing, but her pupils were large, making them seem merely dark.

“You may undress,” she said to Phaedros,  in a husky voice.

Phaedros undressed. It was part of the plan, as all his skin could glow, and the more available to glow, the better. Rynn admired his body as he revealed it; she had seen it in the bath house before, but this time, he was undressing carefully, for effect. Aima moved aside the blood red robe she wore, revealing herself naked underneath it. Her body was full, and lush, and rounded.  Phaedros managed an appropriate reaction, and Rynn suppressed a growl. There would be no point if he could not manage to act appropriately.

Phaedros was struggling. The damned woman was hypnotic! He had achieved a reaction by thinking about Rynn, as he did not find the Blood Queen especially appetising, but her voice, the scent she exuded, the power control were all making him dizzy. He was supposed to do something.

There was a sharp pain in one foot, and Phaedros shook his head as he came back to himself with Rynn biting one toe.

And he glowed. The dark sultry chamber became filled with daylight. Achingly, pure daylight.

And Aima screamed.

The door opened, and the bloodsucker rushed in, and screamed in pain and terror to be met with pure sunlight, the scream bubbling in his throat as his body dessicated and fell to dust in the brightness of Phaedros’s glow.

“That’s the way to do it!” crowed Rynn. “First time you’ve ever killed an enemy with your bum!”

Phaedros managed a chuckle as he reached for Aima’s throat with his glowing hands. Rynn’s sword burst into flame as she came to support him, thrusting it into the goddess’s heart, feeling it quiver against the burning iron of her sword.  Aima screamed, and Rynn handed Phaedros a knife, which he used to cut off her head. She was no longer beautiful, but like a thing of melted wax; but her spirit hurled itself on Phaedros in fury. Rynn could use her magical blade to distract the vengeful deity’s spirit, but Phaedros was the only one close to being a match, linking with his stored power to boost his own kormajaia to try to destroy her being, so that she could never reform on the god-plane even over long years. He slipped out of his body, trusting Rynn to guard it, as he clung to the spirit of the blood queen. Phaedros had come a long way from the rather naive, helpless demigod who had been so gently laughed at by the group around Kaz that he had joined, some years previously; he was now a hard-bodied warrior, who knew how to attack with his will in spirit form as well. Phaedros was accustomed to box and wrestle with Alethos; and he did not hold back.

 

oOoOo

 

“Daze! Do something! Aima is under attack by the son of Pollonis!” shrieked Selen.

“Oh, don’t worry about that fatuous fool,” said Daze. “I told you, I assumed the form of Pollonis to fool his mother and made sure he was not taught well. I had his tutors drawn from those who use all the old forms and posturing in swordplay, not the modern forms.”

“What do you mean, Daze? What modern forms? Is it true what Thanos was whining about, then, that the way of fighting has changed?”

“Oh, yes, these humans are pretty inventive. I don’t know how it works though; why would I care? If he became too efficient, you might have noticed him more than me. But Phaedros is no threat, he was mocked by the Alethosi, and no demi-god would take that without despising them.”

“Oh, no, of course not. That was foolish of them – arrogant bastards that they are, but there’s always been a rivalry between them and the sunspears. I suppose he’s attacking Aima to try to make a name for himself to show up the Alethosi. Well, even if he destroys the body she’s using she will rip him to shreds spiritually, and maybe she will then be able to use his sun powers to give her people immunity to the rays of the sun,” said Selen, diverted. “That would really be an advantage if our bloodsuckers could work in daylight!”

 

oOoOo

 

Phaedros was grimly aware that if Aima got the upper hand, his destruction by her spirit could hand her a weapon which would make her and her bloodsuckers ten times more deadly than they already were, and that this was the fight of his life. And it was hard. He was more powerful than he had been when he had first set out into the world, confident that as a demigod, he would be able to show the party he was to work with a thing or two; and his embarrassment at the foolish youth he had been was something he had lived down and accepted as part of the learning process. Phaedros had learned to take loving teasing from friends, and to improve himself accordingly. And that meant attacking Aima judiciously, not charging in bull-headed. He worked on testing her spirit defences, rather than overreaching himself, boxing small, always on his guard. Aima had protective spirits around her, also attacking him, small irritations, but as Kaz said, the best warrior in the world can be nibbled to death by an excess of mice.

Watching, Rynn was worried, spirits moved so fast, she was afraid to use her sword in case of hitting Phaedros. She cast mining cantrips on her finger nails to gouge but still, it was not enough.  She shut the door and locked it, removing the key, and made the stone surround creep forward, preventing the door from being easily battered inward. She had not separated her spirit from her body before, but she had seen it done, so she lay down, and eased her essence out of her body.

And then she was in the spirit world with Aima and Phaedros, and sundry protective spirits also attempting to attack her beloved. It seemed that believing in her fingernails being strong and sharp worked in the spirit world too, and she chased away the supporting spirits; and then dug her fingernails deep into Aima.

The blood queen shrieked at this extra attack. Rynn grabbed one of her pseudo-arms and cast the cantrip ‘wring’ to twist it. There were no counters to laundry cantrips, which had not been designed as offensive spells; it was merely a question of Rynn’s will overcoming that of Aima’s. And Rynn’s will was grimly firm in protecting the man she loved.

Aima attempted to bite; even as a spirit, her bite could drain essence from a foe.

Phaedros, nothing loth to use any and all means, bit her back. Only instead of going for her neck, he bit her nose. Aima flailed, wildly.

“Glow, Phaedros; you can still glow!” said Rynn.

Phaedros held his grip on Aima’s nose hard, and let himself glow.

It worked. And Aima screamed as the purity of a spirit of light burned her chaos and evil.  It was a rather nasal scream. Rynn raked her back, and dug in her finger nails, reaching round Aima’s head to stick them in the goddess’s eyes, and tear them out, thrusting into the seat of her thought.

And then, it was virtually over. Phaedros reached into Aima’s essence to burn the seat of her undead power, destroying the glyph that was a part of her being, directing Rynn to rip out the glyphs of death and fertility which gave immortality. He wanted nothing of the dying goddess for himself, being immortal already, save to prevent her from returning.  But that meant that he and Rynn between them must consume every part of her power.

It took time, and Aima fought bitterly for her existence, trying to break away from the two implacable spirits, who would not let her go.

“Please!” she cried.

“How many poor souls pleaded with you as you drained them dry?” said Rynn. Phaedros had wavered, but this hardened him. Beauty was not always truth or goodness. And finally, with a thin scream, Aima’s spirit disintegrated.

Two weary young people collapsed back into their bodies, lying on the preposterous crimson-covered bed.

Rynn kissed Phaedros.

“Darling, I love you, but not here,” said Phaedros. “It would soil us.”

“Good point,” said Rynn. “What about the women?”

“I’ll call in Cousin Thyella; part of her portfolio is women who have been hurt who are finding themselves,” said Phaedros.

“Perfect,” said Rynn. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s bound to be a kitchen for the human initiates,” said Phaedros, getting up and starting to dress. “If I glow as we go, it’ll take care of any undead, and we kill everyone else as we go, get something to eat, and go join Harkon in the new temple to Alethos.”

“And fortified with food we can take out more bloodsuckers and the temple spirit,” said Rynn, happily.

“You Alethosi!” laughed Phaedros. “Yes, it makes sense. Oh, and you’ll have to let us out.”

“Oh, yes,” said Rynn. “I hear hammering on the door. You glow, and I’ll hit people with my burning sword, and then we go looking for the kitchens.”

Those hammering on the door turned out to be some human initiates backed up by nekrosti; but the nekrosti were moving slower, and in an unco-ordinated way. The magic which held their bodies together was failing since the passing of the goddess whose power made them, and they were imbued only with what the human or bloodsucker creators had given them, the least part of their makeup. Rynn abjured them with Alethosian spell, and, already damaged, they fell into dust. The humans tried to flee, but did not get far.

“Thyella!” called Phaedros. “Come and rescue these women!”

Thyella turned up with the inevitable smell of ozone.

“Goodness, Phae, this is not the sort of place your mother would like you frequenting,” she teased.

“Funnily enough, I find myself entirely unmoved by that thought,” said Phaedros. “See you around; we’re looking for the kitchens.”

Thyella sniggered.

“They’re so very young,” she murmured, before releasing the bloodsucker’s captives, and taking them back to the temple of Latrika.

It seemed the easiest thing to do.

 

“What will happen to the bloodsuckers?” asked Rynn.

“As I understand it, when they reach glyph level, they ritually commit suicide, and Aima binds their souls back into their bodies.  And at the full moon they have to feed, though they may feed at other times; but their ability to convert blood to maintain their bodies is essentially a glyph-spell which she is no longer going to power, so they are going to start to decay.”

“So, we’re still going to have to kill them in the meantime?”

“Yes, but not until we’ve eaten some of the beef which is on that spit,” said Phaedros, as they found the kitchens. “You lot! You’re free to go, now get the hell out of here!” he barked at the servants. “You can serve yourselves a meal first,” he added, compassionately, “As long as there’s plenty for us too.”