death's knight 4

 

Chapter 4

 

Pythas stood, grimly, overlooking the place of execution. He was backed up by Harkon, his friend Zalmox, Pythas’s daughter, Lelyn, and Kaz. Kaz was along mostly for her personal connection to Alethos, which Pythas had no hesitation in exploiting.

Pythas frowned at Allenna Dren and Clodus Mils.

“I wish to make a formal protest about the travesty of the ‘Death’ glyph being used in this way,” he said. “It has long been used to display the bodies of bandits, but purely as part of a rite and prayer to prevent them from being used as undead. It is displeasing to my god that his glyph be used to execute criminals, but he is much angered  that you plan to so misuse it to murder hostages.”

“Grow up, Pythas; this is about politics, not the gods,” sneered Mils. “Besides, it is also a symbol of my god, Thanus, one of our Brothers Under the Moon.”

“The gods are about everything, Mils,” said Pythas. “Moreover, I do not recognise Thanus as a god, since he is only an upstart apostate of my god, whose tongue is so far up the backside of Selen that he eats her bogies with it.”

Mils went a shade of purple normally only seen in an embarrassed Darkling Toróg.

“You go too far, Pythas!” he tried to boom, but managed only to squawk.

“Do I?” said Pythas. “I would say I do not go far enough. Thanus interrupted his training as a hero to join your blood cults, and as such does not have a full understanding or use of the ‘Death’ glyph, which he fumbles around in his inept, ungodly way, and cannot give his misguided fools of worshippers true tools of protection against the undead, because he is feeble.”

Mils snarled.

Thanus did not grant as much protection against the undead as Alethos.

“We do not fear the undead as you do, but accept them as part of the blessed moon’s way,” said Mils.

“Care for a wager, old boy?” asked Pythas, offensively. “I wager that Alethos can destroy all these murderous poles and that Thanus cannot prevent him from doing so.”

Mils sneered.

“The gods will not intervene on such a matter, even if you have sacrificed to have divine intervention cast at your will,” he said.

“We shall see,” said Pythas. He raised his arms.

“Oh, Alethos, hear me, I beseech thee; destroy these travesties of thy purity as death who comes in love as a friend, something Thanus does not understand.”  He shot Mils a look, and added maliciously, “And never will.”

“Thanus prevent this foolery!” cried Mils, convinced that nothing would happen, and that he could then claim Thanus’s power in preventing a curse.

“How spectacular do you think Pythas wants?” asked Alethos’s voice in Kaz’s head. “With you as a focus I can do almost anything.”

“Enjoy yourself being showy,” thought back Kaz.

“Pythas has shaped up very nicely,” approved Alethos. “One day I must tell you some of the stories of his wild and reckless youth.”

Kaz chuckled.

“Do I want to know?” asked Pythas, quietly.

“Alethos is about to be showy,” said Kaz. “And he promised to tell me tales of your youth.”

“Ah, my geas for the gift of this piece of theatre,” said Pythas, ruefully.

 

“See? Nothing is happening,” said Mils.

“It is; you have not felt it yet,” said Pythas.

There was a low rumbling; and the ground began shaking. Kaz’s eyes burned amber as her god and beloved used her body to reach the ground in front of them. As they watched, the execution hill and surrounding area needed to accommodate so many execution poles sank down into the ground, carrying the imperfect glyphs with it. A perfectly circular hole started filling with clear crystalline water.

“You were saying?” said Pythas.

Mils was white.

“It’s not possible!” he cried.

“It is,” said Pythas. “Tell your adolescent fool of a god not to try to play with the grown-ups.”

“Well, that was interesting,” said Alethos, including all of his worshippers there. “I was able to use the connection of these places of murder to each other so that every Selenite execution hill is now a pool of water.”

 Pythas and his comrades knelt and made the signs of Death and Truth, sacrificing from their magical hearts in gratitude.

“Your god has declared himself an enemy of the Selenite Empire!” cried Mils, shrilly. “Your Excellency! What is to be done about them?”

The Inquisitor had been watching, keeping aloof; he was ashen-faced.

“We will find another shape to use and eschew the ‘Death’ glyph,” he said. “Let a straight pole be used, with a crossmember. Send your men to cut more wood.”

“It will take many days; we have used all the wood that can be reached conveniently,” said Mils, licking his lips nervously.

“Then they shall he hanged from the balconies of public buildings!” cried Lazar Kron.

Kaz made a sign to a trógling in the Alethosi retinue. The youth ran off.

Within an hour, there would be no rope to be had, unless the Selenites stripped it from ships. Those rope chandlers who did not support the Empire would happily have their rope hidden, and claim to have had a big order; those whose allegiance was unknown or was for the empire would just have their stores raided.

 

A messenger ran up to Nils.

“My lord! The barracks has been attacked by warriors of the Knights of the Clear Starlight, under the Blue Moon banner!” he cried.”

“We shall have a famous victory over them,” gloated Mils. “They will die in a trap.”

“M…my lord, they attacked from the rear, and used the lightning spells of the god of storms, Ombros, and his sister, Thyella, lady of lighting and wildfire, the Celestial Virgin. There’s a big hole in the back and the Knights of the Clear Starlight swarmed through it and went through the whole compound like locusts, driving those of our common soldiery who did not know about the pit into it!”

“Thanus’s balls!” said Mils. “How did they know?” He paled. “My lord inquisitor! Your slave – it must have been suborned by the partisans!”

“Take men to my palace and kill every slave!” screamed Lazar Kron.

 

He was to be too late with this, as Rynn had been tasked with removing them all whilst he was busy with supervising the raising of the crosses.

Protasion, Svargia, and Vulk lead the wolf-troops in emptying the arenas, and Polia left with the sketch Kaz had made of what she had imagined as sigils and runes of opening an imaginary gate, which had convinced Selenite road-builders that their slave task force had been removed by some strange Steppe magic.

 

Back at the former execution ground, Pythas smiled beatifically. “Your excellency, Lord Mils, Lady Dren. I have the honour to inform you that a state of war now exists between the city state of Mesolimnos and the Selenite Empire.”

“What?” barked Lazar Kron.

“It’s simple enough. You are our foes. Will you surrender peacefully into my custody?”

“The hell I will! Men! Kill the Alethosi!” cried Mils.

Pythas grinned.

“At last,” he said. “A bit of exercise, this chilly morning.”

The silent entourage drew weapons. It was almost like a drill; simultaneous removal of swords from scabbards filled the air with a metallic hiss.  It was plain that the fight was anticipated.

Nils suddenly realised how many cloaked figures watching the proceedings were actually Alethosi, in full armour, and ready to die on their lord’s command, for their god and for their city. He quailed.

He regained confidence when the lines of battle arranged themselves and he found himself facing a trógling. Well, that should be easy enough. Contemptuously, he went to batter away her sword, but found her parrying, and knocking his sword aside. Wait, that should not be possible unless…

Unless his opponent also had an iron sword.

A trógling with an iron sword?

And iron armour. 

A trógling glyph-lord of Alethos?

He was still wondering how this might have come about when the iron sword of his opponent sashayed around his, spun into the back stroke, and Nils died, somewhat surprised.

The loss of their commander seemed to demoralise the rest of the troops, and some of them broke and ran.

This was the first true battle in which Kaz had participated; and she was surprised how like a drill it could be, if one only ignored the stench of fear, blood, and body fluids. She was glad that she had increased her stamina over the last few years, so that she might fight on through a battle which continued not for a few minutes, but for well over an hour, by the time the pockets of resistance were wiped out.

“I need a bath,” said Kaz.

“You and the rest of us,” said Lelyn. “That was pretty… messy.”

“Full on battle usually is,” said Pythas, giving his daughter a swift embrace, and including Kaz in it. “You’re both very young.”

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what it is to have a father, but if I had one, I’d wish him to be like you,” said Kaz.

“Well, now! My wife and I are always there for you,” said Pythas, gruffly. “Back to the temple, I suppose; and a war council with the other cult leaders to deal with an inevitable siege.”

 

In the town centre, Pollosi and Ombrosi warriors were carousing.

“Hey, Pythas!” yelled Erippion Windblown, Thundermaster of Ombros, the same rank as Pythas in his own cult. “We had a little scrap with those damned Selenites – thanks for the intelligence about the pit! Never found the hostages, though. What have you been up to this morning?”

“Oh, did a little praying, and some drill,” said Pythas. “Nothing exciting.  Oh, and as you’d decided to be noisy, I told that snotty faced inquisitor that Mesolimnos is now at war with the Selenite Empire. There seemed no point in hiding it anymore.”

“Ha! I’d have loved to have seen the little twerp’s face! What was it like?”

“Rather surprised until the light went out of his eyes. He was no great challenge.”

“Hang on, how did you stop the two hundred men he had with him?”

“I did tell you we did a little drill after our prayers,” said Pythas, moving on.

“Weren’t you going to tell him about what Alethos did, father?” asked Lelyn.

“Why should I? the blowhard will find out soon enough, even as he’ll find out that the city folk are home by now. We don’t have to blow our own trumpets. The facts will speak. And when he finds out about it when he is sober, he will appreciate it the more. I shall call a war council for the fifteenth hour.”

 

 

The war council included Erytheon Sun-Toucher, sun-seer of Solos, along with his brother, ChrysandionLightspear, Lightfather of Solos. The Lightfather also acted as chief judge in the city.

“That’s a coup, getting the Solosi to a meeting,” said Kaz.

“Yes, and Alethos has been sweating some sense into them and into Pollonis to accept you and your trógling corps,” said Pythas. “You’ve met Ray of Pollonis, Xanthos Brightspear, I believe?”

“Yes, got into an honour duel with him over me wearing iron,” said Kaz, making a face. “I made the point that I could use battlemagic and other magic despite wearing iron because I am tied to it by merit and the will of my god.”

“I heard you laundered him thoroughly with household cantrips,” said Pythas.

“Yes; I folded his cloak, soaped his mouth, wrung the sleeve ofhis spear hand, and finished up airhanging his clothes to blow in the breeze,” said Kaz, happily. “And what do you know, they work as well on Lightmakers as on Bloodsuckers.”

“So long as you cast on his clothes, not on him; how did you manage to soap his mouth?”

“Overpowered it,” said Kaz. “He rather got the point.”

Xanthos Brightspear was glaring at her, but said nothing, swallowing a snarl as she waved to him. He and Erippion Windblown were sober by now, and the latter burst out,

“You lied about what you did this morning, Pythas!  And you the Commandant of a Truth cult!”

“I did not lie,” said Pythas. “I passed on what we did in as complex a way as your drunken brain could handle it at the time. Prayed a little and did some drill. Defeating the men at the execution site was no more than a drill, really. And our prayers were moderately successful; Alethos informs me that he was able to use his anchor at one execution site to do much the same across the Empire. I wager there are a few worried Selenites; Lazar Kron almost shit himself.”

“How did you get the hostages out?” demanded Xanthos.

“It wasn’t actually me, but some of my people. And it’s a cult secret,” said Pythas. “But I will tell you that some cult heroes can open gates to Hell and back.”  The rescued hostages had all been subject to confusion spells, cast over an area, and basically believed what they had described to them. Protasion had described the glowing fungi and warned people not to touch them. Protasion’s father was on the council, and Pythas bowed to him. “Lord Aristides Chrysandos, your son led the contingent who rescued the hostages, with his friend, Evgon, whose parents had been taken.”

“My son isn’t a cult hero,” said Lord Aristides.

“Not yet, no,” said Pythas. “But he is on the quest path, and hangs around with others who also quest. He wants to make you proud of him, and to help lead the City States out of slavery in our war against the Blood Moon and her minions.”

“You Alethosi aren’t even Knights of the Clear Starlight,” said Xanthos.

“No, and we hope the Healing Trio won’t be needed this time, and that the gods of storm and wind will be more focused in their fury,” said Pythas, dryly. “But it is Alethos to whom Lycoids who hate their taint of chaos turn, and Alethos who changes the glyph ‘Taint’ to ‘Beast’ to permit them to be skinchangers without ties to the moon and to be free of disease. By compassion, we have allies, not dead foes.”

Xanthos flushed, but not as much as Erippion. The gods of wind and storm had gone insane when the fall of parts of the Blue Moon had disrupted the world, and Alethos and his sisters, Latrika and Phrodine, goddesses of healing and love respectively, had confined and healed them. It was something they wanted to forget.

“Let us come to order,” said ChrysandionLightspear. “It is unfortunate that the hot-headed actions of some of us has forced the issue, but as it is forced,  we need to decide what to do.  I understand that the governor, Ralthur Kron, has also vanished in suspicious circumstances. I beg your pardon, Pythas?”

“I snorted,” said Pythas. “Ralthur defected, something he has been planning for a long time.”

“Are you certain his defection is genuine?” asked Erippion.

“Are you certain you brought all your wits with you and did not leave it drowned in a cup of that rotgut the Plainsfolk drink?” said Pythas. “He defected from Thanus to Alethos, who confirmed him Glyph Lord with an additional gift and geas. You don’t get to glyph level in the cult of a god of Truth without being true to your word. He is under my command. And now, gentlemen, unless the sun-seer has anything to reveal, we need to plan; and that involves closing off our border.”