death's knight 8

 

Chapter 8

 

“Thank goodness, back on firm ground and the ten-toed pony,” said Kaz, thankfully, as they left the city. “I do not like ships.”

“Boats, strictly speaking,” said Harkon.

“I don’t find I care enough to argue the nomenclature,” said Kaz.  “I hope I never need to use Maelstrom Lake to get to Hell for a visit.”

“We can go via the path of the sobbing dead,” said Harkon. “Alethos said we could use it again at need.”

“Truth,” said Kaz, brightening up, remembering how they had opened a gate for the ghosts of the plain and had given them somewhere to belong. She could feel the shy worship of one of the ghosts who had travelled through, a little girl, and knew now that the child’s name was Iphianira. Kaz had almost walked into the underworld hand in hand with the ghostly child, but had been stopped by Alethos. She thought warmly of the little girl every time they passed this way.

The peasants working the fields no longer gave signs to ward off evil aimed at passers-by; and the rich, dark soil, between the two rivers which fed the Red River, was cultivated to a distance that reached further away from the city, and new villages might be seen.

Kaz sighed when their path brought them to one village.

“The village we are about to pass through is where we camped in a spinney and slept through the heat of the day,” she said. “People did not dare venture even this far.”

“But more people may be supported, now that we have been able to find the ghosts a home,” said Harkon. “It was your idea.”

“I confess, I was thinking of the comfort of the dead,” said Kaz. “And yes, it is good to open up dead lands. This land between the rivers should all be used.  And if it is, it will make for safer ways to traverse the Drylands to the Great Plains if there are villagers able to serve those who wish to cross the Drylands.”

“Well, it’s the same place that we rested last time; this time, we shall sit inside in the ale house and drink something cold,” said Harkon. “I don’t believe anyone has yet cultivated land beyond the Great Sill, where the mountains flowed across the land with the cataclysm.  Other than a few lay servants of the temple which has been built on the site of our endeavours, where we shall find Zalmox and Alcitha as lord and priest.”

“It will be good to see them again, after we had to get them out of Mesolimnos in a hurry when Alcitha was seen rescuing slaves,” said Kaz.

“Will we stop overnight here?” asked Phaedros. His tone was a little plaintive.

“How are your feet?” asked Rynn. “I told you to tell me if your boots were rubbing.”

“I don’t think I have any of these ‘blisters’ you described,” said Phaedros. “But my legs burn, and my feet hurt.”

“Well, Kvag and Dran have never done this trip before, either,” said Kaz. “We’ll have a foot inspection, and some leg massage, and see how you feel.”

“Yes, mother,” said Phaedros, ironically.

“And don’t forget it,” said Kaz.

The inn fell silent as the strangers walked in.

“Wolves!” cried one.

“Not Lycoids,” said Kaz, firmly. “Nothing to worry about.  A bowl of water for each of them, please, and a hambone to chew on.  A room for us to rest and eat in, please, and a meal for nine, bowls, and jugs of hot and cold water to wash and bathe tired feet.”

As an inn on a roadway used more than before, there were rooms for travellers to be private, as well as for sleeping, and if the room was a trifle rustic, with benches and a single long table, it was cool, and private.

 

Warm and cold bowls of water for Phaedros and the young tróglings helped their weary feet no end, and the other warriors gave deep massage to calves and thighs of those suffering.

“I think we should move out of the village, and camp, and just lose half a day,” said Kaz. “There’s no point pushing them too hard. Kvag and Dran could ride our wolves, but a mule is no easy ride.”

“I could change and carry him at need,” said Vulk. “I am stronger than most wolves.”

“You are a Lycoid?” said Phaedros, in some fear.

“No, I’m a shifter. I was a Lycoid, but taking service with Alethos gave me a cure; more advantages and no disadvantages,” said Vulk. “I can change shape at will, I am unaffected by the blood moon, and I carry no diseases.”

“Alethos has been doing more to defeat the evils of the chaos twins than anyone else, it seems,” said Phaedros. “Whilst my father and grandfather sat, complacently, waiting for the child of prophecy to pull their blades out of the casting stones.” He scowled. “And I will not apologise for that, even if I am punished, because my father has let me down as well as his people.  I will not turn my back on my worship, but I would be a poor worshipper if I did not speak up and expect my godly sire to do better.”

“Bravo,” said Harkon. “Pollonis also values the glyph of Truth, and must understand that you have no choice but to be true to yourself, and all that you know and believe.”

Phaedros’s eyes widened.

“He speaks to me and reassures me,” he said, tears starting in his eyes. “And he asked me to thank you all for being true friends. He… he plans to find out why I was left so badly trained; and he is sorry he did not spend more time with me.”

He performed the worship ritual for Pollonis, and his new friends copied him and joined him in respect for the god able to admit to a mistake.

 

The villagers were not displeased that this dangerous looking party moved out of the inn to camp outside the village overnight. Too much iron on warriors argued men and women too dangerous to want to have them around. Glyph-lords and priests were frightening.

 

The group pushed on next day, taking frequent stops, and reached the Great Sill by mid-afternoon.

“And that’s where the mountains fell down and covered a city?” asked Phaedros, eyeing the cliff of tumbled rubble dubiously.

“So they say,” said Harkon. “The souls of refugees and citizens alike wailed for centuries on that higher plain. We let the priests of Solos take the kudos for removing the ghosts, through their prayers, to distract notice from our Kaz persuading Alethos to open a pathway and welcome them to rest. There’s a temple now on the site of it.”

“The cultivation goes no further than this, as yet, though, as I understand it,” said Kaz.

“The land isn’t as fertile, being bits of mountain,” said Harkon. “And I fancy it will be a long time before anyone but worshippers of Alethos, who do not fear Death, are willing to live there.”

“Some ghosts did not go,” said Kaz. “Some were afraid; some just resisted. But they cannot cause us any harm.”

There was a sudden bolt of lightning out of the blue sky; and where it struck, suddenly there stood a beautiful woman,  with ivory skin, deep blue eyes, and hair so pale a blonde it was almost silvery. She was clad in iron armour, chased with silver.

“I had to come ahead, to make sure you heard my arguments first, Judge Harkon!” she said. “Your vaunted skills of judgement will be tested, and I want you to know that if you decide for me that you would find the skills of the storm very useful.”

“Madam, I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Harkon, bowing.

“That is my cousin, Thyella, the Celestial Virgin,” said Phaedros. “And others approach….”

“Oh, this is going to be trouble,” said Kaz.

Two other beautiful women appeared, both blonde, but one of them with a touch of green to her long, loose hair, and the other with hair the colour of ripening wheat.

“Thyella! How dare you steal a march on us!” cried the one with the greenish tinge to her hair.

“Ladies, let us have no fighting,” said Harkon. “May I enquire who you might be and what you want?”

“You’re right, he is rather dreamy,” said the golden haired one. “I might even consider him as a lover.”

Kaz suppressed a snort. Harkon was not likely to enjoy a lover with plumply rounded limbs and a figure lush enough to be almost overblown.

“I am Zeandine; this is Secalia, and that is Thyella,” said the green-haired one. “The Sky Griffin has left us this egg; and it is to be the mount and counsel of the most beautiful of us, and we have chosen you to judge. We will meet you again in three days, and you might choose. Come, Thyella,” she added. They turned and walked away, juggling the egg between them.

“There’s something wrong, there,” said Kaz. “Did your sense of an enemy poke you, Harkon?”

“It did,” said Harkon. “And I think it was the egg. What foolishness is this that a pack of goddesses think I have nothing better to do with my time than judge stupid beauty contests?  Were they contesting feats of arms I would be better qualified to judge.”

“One of them returns,” said Phaedros. “I can ‘hear’ godly travel.”

It was Secalia.

“Harkon,” she cooed, “I have powers over grain, and if you chose to become the mightiest warlord in the land, I could see that your troops were always fed well. Just imagine, throwing out the Selenites, because your men never wanting for anything.”

“I’m not sure what that has to do with your personal appearance,” said Harkon. “If you are loyal to Solos, surely you would place such power at the disposal of all generals fighting the Selenites?”

“But you would be their king,” cooed Secalia, and vanished.

“That was… disturbing,” said Harkon.

“Another approaches,” said Phaedros.

This was Zeandine.

She laid a hand on Harkon’s arm.

“Let me show you the most beautiful woman in the world; she could be yours, if you wished. At the moment she is the betrothed of Ralthur Kron, but it is said he has deserted the Selenites, and her family has yet to marry her to another, so she is virginal as well as lovely.”

Harkon found himself in a bubble of what he referred to as ‘elsewhen’ similar to being partially on the GodPlane to worship. A scene opened before his eyes of a voluptuous woman with long, dark hair, on a couch, eating grapes. Her ample assets were confined by intricate lacing of her lavender gown. Harkon shuddered.

“Ralthur has had a lucky escape; I wouldn’t want to wake up to her every morning,” he said.

“What? Don’t you think she is beautiful?” demanded Zeandine.

“No,” said Harkon.

Zeandine made a moue and snapped her fingers.

The woman was armoured, and her pale gold hair was braided. She was clad in a nod to iron armour, but her slender, muscular limbs were tanned golden and on display.

“Perhaps Thea Drex is more to your liking, heroine of the Selenite Empire; but I could help you to seize her, and make her yours.”

She was beautiful.

But her eyes were colder than death.

Harkon shrugged.

“I’d like to go back to my people, now,” he said.

“I could find you a young man, you know, if that’s what you prefer,” said Zeandine.

“I prefer to go back to my people,” said Harkon.

He was dumped out of Zeandine’s bubble unceremoniously.

“This is definitely increasingly disturbing,” said Harkon.

“Incoming,” said Phaedros, laconically.

The lightning strike brought Thyella.

“I did not have much chance to put my case…” she began.

Harkon held up a hand.

“I will make my judgement in three days as you have asked of me,” he said.

 

 

Harkon had disturbed sleep for the next night, with dreams about sitting on a throne commanding vast armies, and nights of passion with  beautiful women; and of sight from clouds looking down at the land far below, and travelling in a lightning bolt.

The second night was spent at the temple of Alethos, where Zalmox and Alcitha embraced them all and welcomed them in.

The night after, they reached the stockade of the temple to Solos, in the foothills, and Harkon’s sleep was disturbed again.

“This is starting to irritate me,” he said.

“Be true to yourself,” said Kaz.

“I will,” said Harkon, grimly. “I am not going to survive this, Kaz; and I only regret that it means I will not be able to aid you, but when they, or Solos, strike me down for my impudence, perhaps I can come to you as a bound spirit, together with my brother, Toval, to join Zon.”

“If you are correct, these mountains will rob me of another friend,” said Kaz, sadly. Zon, the trógling who had died defending her had been eager to continue her defence as a spirit, but she missed his cheeky comments to the party.  “Let us leave early; I do not want us meeting with those females in a temple where they might be expected to have some power.”

Harkon agreed.

“Kill the egg,” he said. “What they do to me does not matter, but deal with that abomination.”

“I will,” said Kaz.

 

The three goddesses were waiting by a spring which fed a laughing rill, where they planned to stop and rest.

“And have you made a decision, Harkon?” demanded Zeandine.

“Yes,” said Harkon. He made silent prayers to Alethos to accept his spirit when he came to him. “I have. True beauty lies only in truth, and truth is something none of you practise, as every one of you tried to bribe me. This is cheating, and is a lie implicit. Therefore, I disqualify all of you.”