Chapter 7
The big gladiator sneered, and sheathed his knife, taking a coiled whip from his belt.
“You know the penalty for disobedience,” he said. He cracked the whip once, then let it lash out to wrap around the child, and jerking it free; much of her tunic came with it, and a line of blood lay on her arms and chest.
“I can’t take this any more,” growled Harkon.
A flash of lightning tore through the spring air of the stadium, striking the big gladiator dead. A smoking pit marked the last position of the child, as Harkon whisked her away to deposit in his own mother temple.
“Here, someone take care of her,” he said. “Sjurgi! Same situation as yours.” And then he was striding through the temple to use hero-travel to find Ralthur and return more quietly than he had left.
“You smell of ozone,” said Ralthur.
“I left her with my sister,” said Harkon.
“Of course you did,” said Ralthur. “Sit down before anyone notices you disappeared.”
“Half of them have jumped up in shock at lightning from a clear sky anyway,” said Harkon, in satisfaction. “It’s put the frighteners on the Empress, too,” he added.
There was a susurration of fear passing through the crowd. It hissed in the suppressed murmurings of awe at a second miraculous occurrence... this one not able to be explained away. In the Selenite mythos, storm and wind gods were described as evil and destructive foreign gods, jealous of the calm of Selenite life.
The Empress and her chief priestess were hastily conferring.
“It has been determined that the bolt of lightning was but a natural phenomenon, and nothing to do with any gods,” said the empress, firmly. “On with the games; there is no reason to suppose there will be any more lightning, and if there is, it will be attracted to the metal of arms and armour in the arena.”
“Keep believing that,” growled Harkon.
“Oh, hush, we aren’t ready for assassinations yet,” said Ralthur.
oOoOo
Sjurgi bathed the little girl, dressed her old welts, and put her in a soft gown.
“I was your age when they took me,” she said. “I learned to fight, meaning to rebel, but I learned the things they said to avoid whippings, and there were hidden riddles. But I am free again now, and you can learn to fight them.”
“I want that,” said the child. “My name is Firri, not Tassia.”
“And my name is Sjurgi,” said Sjurgi. “It was my brother who brought you to me,” she added.
oOoOo
Harkon managed to contain himself for the rest of the games.
He and Ralthur, as Patricians, readily managed to gain access to the gladiator barracks. Harkon sneered at the women fawning over the muscular human gladiators; Dróg, though celebrated for his skill, did not garner the same attentions. Harkon quickly made the signs of Alethos, and, wide-eyed, Dróg replied in kind.
“Are you ready, yet, to be bought out to join the fight more openly?” asked Harkon.
“No, I can still do good here,” said Dróg. “Though there are fewer trógling turning up in the arena.”
“Fewer being taken in the north,” said Harkon. “Honestly, I could do with someone with darksense here, and an understanding of things like mining cantrips to build tunnels.”
Dróg frowned.
“I would want a prestigious position as bodyguard,” he said.
“I am happy with that,” said Harkon. “You’ve kept your nose clean?”
“Yes, they haven’t tried to make me worship their gods, they think I worship Tor.”
“So, nobody would blink twice at you being captain of the private guard of a secret policeman?”
Dróg stared, then chuckled.
“Well, either I’m dead, or you’re closer to winning than anyone realised.”
“We’re here to disrupt society to keep official eyes off the vehicles of prophecy.”
“I’m your man. But I won’t let you buy me for fewer than a thousand Moons.”
“That’s a hundred years wages for an artisan!” said Harkon.
“And I get a quarter as my share to put towards my retirement,” said Dróg. “I plan to live well when the war is over. My novelty value has worn off, but I still make them money, so I should get a good price for my contract; take it or leave it, no self-respecting gladiator would settle for less than the best price.”
“Fair enough,” said Harkon. To do anything else would be to attract undue attention.
Harkon asked the Lanista about buying the contract of the trógling.
Dróg came forward to haggle; they settled on fifteen hundred moons. Harkon had not been too concerned about haggling, as Dróg got some of it.
“And you can take my slave bracelets off,” he said. “I won’t run; you’ll be paying me well. Going rate is forty-eight moons a year.”
Harkon laughed.
“Well played,” he said. “Your value to me is well worth it.”
oOoOo
Thyella was missing her husband, even with the care for Chionea. She regarded the enemy camp, and her dimples popped in and out. She went to see Chrysandion.
“What can I do for you, Divine One?” asked Chrysandion, nervously.
“Oh, never mind the formalities, Sandy,” said Thyella. “I just need people to pray to my mother to ensure rain, lots of rain, in the regions around the city but not on the city itself.”
“You mean, on the Selenites,” said Chrysandion, deciding not to take offence over his name being mangled by the whimsical little goddess.
“Chrysandion! You know you can’t invoke a weather goddess in matters of war and politics!” said Thyella. “But to prepare for the planting of market gardens in the city surrounds, but not the city itself, that’s a valid reason for heavy rain.”
“Oh!” said Chrysandion. “Yes, right I see.”
Later, Thyella looked out, and smiled in grim satisfaction. There was a definite line around the city walls where the rain stopped, so that it was bright and sunny within, a lovely spring day, whilst outside the walls, and to the extent of the camp, it rained solidly. Her mother had needed the casuistry of spring planting.
“You are very clever,” said Sjurgi, who had brought Firri to see, having chosen to worship Thyella as well as Alethos.
“Gods and goddesses need to be adaptable or we will die,” said Thyella. “We can’t break the rules but we can bend them. Rain for market gardens is credible, and when these idiots go away we shall be able to institute them. And make it no lie.”
“And if they retire a little?”
“The fields need rain as well,” said Thyella.
“You’re adorable,” said Sjurgi, hugging her goddess. “And I could not even imagine embracing Selen, though Harkon embraces Alethos often.”
“We like affection too.”
oOoOo
Selen turned to her brother for affection; or at least, for sex. Her plan of endless winter had been thwarted, and the wolves had all disappeared. Things were going badly and she did not know why!
“Why aren’t we winning?” she asked, petulantly.
“We are, it’s just a few setbacks,” said Daze. “We’ll send Aima’s people in; that will defeat the stinking trogs and their night sight.”
oOoOo
Every Alethosi who could sense undead fell out of bed with a yell as Selen’s daughter brought in her own people.
Pythas grabbed Dron and Rynn.
“Get doors across the storm drains; I’ll send you sun worshippers to set up daylight spells behind them to handle bloodsuckers and nekrosti.”
“We’ve got it,” said Dron, grimly, well aware that he was unlikely to be able to manage undead by himself.
“I will go with you, friend Dron,” said Phaedros. “I can discourage any who harass you until someone able to anchor a sunlight spell in glyphs can arrive.”
“If I carve the glyphs for you, will your magic set it off?” asked Dron.
“I don’t see why not,” said Phaedros.
“I know the lesser rune-sets as well to anchor it,” said Rynn.
“I should have taken more seriously my education,” said Phaedros.
“You were sabotaged by Daze; we’ll get you up to speed,” said Rynn.
Phaedros hated the dark tunnels but he had learned to glow just enough to see where he was going, and not to hamper the trógling who were carrying planks to make doors to fill the passages. Pythas had nodded gratitude to him for going to guard the tróglings with his own abilities.
The trógling work gang had added doors and a sunlight spell behind them to three exits, reassuring those trógling in watch posts in tunnels off the drains, and were working on the fourth when Rynn signalled that someone had entered the tunnels, and shortly after that signalled, ‘Undead’ as Rynn had taken as a gift the ability to sense them.
“Shut eyes, all, Phaedros, glow!” she snapped.
Phaedros clenched his teeth and let his innate ability turn him into a small patch of sunlight. There was a cry from behind what was now visible as a group of nekrosti and skeletons. Dron ushered their group of helping tróglings back as Rynn and Phaedros advanced on the bloodsucker who had some level of protection against Phaedros, though he was plainly hurt.
“Don’t let him get away!” said Rynn, kicking decaying parts of disintegrated nekrosti to one side. Phaedros found himself attacked by a powerful spirit bound to the bloodsucker.
“Rynn! Escape and warn Kaz!” he managed, as he used what he had learned from the Alethosi in handling spirits.
“Not likely, Dron can do that,” said Rynn, her sword ready.
Dron heard, and ushered his work-gang back up the tunnels, and reflected that this was why he might reach glyph-rank but was unlikely to be a hero. And this was why Rynn was known as the ‘Shadow of the Light Lord.’
Rynn was wearing the ring of flameblade, and activated it to bear down on the bloodsucker.
“What, a trogling dares face me?” he sneered. “You cannot know what I am, foolish one.”
“Trógling,” said Rynn. “You Selenites are so ignorant. And I know fine well what you are.” She folded his cloak, wondering what conceit made bloodsuckers wear extravagant cloaks; not that she was complaining. The cantrip, so fast and easy to cast, caused significant difficulty to anyone wearing the garment being folded. And it gave her a free blow with her flaming sword.
The bloodsucker managed to get a free hand to draw his own sword.
Rynn aimed a household preserving cantrip at the wet floor.
“Freeze,” she said. The floor froze; only in an area of a hand’s span, but as the bloodsucker was advancing and put his foot on that area, the idea she had had worked well, and the undead skidded, off balance, and then hit the unfrozen water and stumbled. Rynn hit him again, and with a judicious strike at where she expected him to fall, she caught the back of his neck and sheered through his head. She prepared to fight his vengeful spirit with her still flaming blade; the magic of it enhanced her will in any attacks, though she had to be careful not to hit herself with it. She had no compunction in ripping and tearing the spirit of the undead to assume any power she could, and any knowledge, too; a worshipper of Aima was anathema to any Alethosi.
Kaz, Sjurgi, and Thyella stood on the walls as various bloodsuckers chanted spells to raise those who had died in the siege. A Selenite priestess was also chanting.
“Oh, this is not good,” said Sjurgi. “They mean to soften us up with moonrock from the sky; I can protect us three but not the city.”
“Show us how you would protect, and let us share,” said Kaz. “Three of us together might be able to do so.”
They joined thoughts and Sjurgi was amazed that anyone should be so trusting.
“You are our sister,” said Kaz, as if that explained it, looking at the glyph-magic which allowed a cloak to protect from skystones. And how to call them. That magic would fail since Sjurgi’s apostasy, but the knowledge was there.
Kaz sniggered and outlined her thoughts.
“Really, twisting a hospitality cantrip and laying a tablecloth?” laughed Thyella.
“Let’s do it,” said Kaz, out loud.
A ridiculous confection of lace appeared above them and spread almost transparently thin in a dome over the entire city, the glyph spell powered by two goddesses and a heroine, not by its originator; and as the fearsome bombardment of rocks from the sky commenced, which would have rained down causing terror in the city, the power of the three protected all, and used the dome to bounce rocks onto the Selenite army, and more particularly onto the skeletons and nekrosti which were emerging from the ground.
A bloodsucker dove for shelter, shouting, “You dolts! You are missing the city and hitting us!”
Kaz sniggered.
“It’s a bit like the game some of the men play in the street and where they use one boul striking another to change direction,” she said. “Let’s see what we can do.”
“She’s very young, still,” said Thyella. “Hey! That does look fun,” as Kaz ricocheted one rock off another to hit a bloodsucker full in the chest. “He won’t be getting up any time soon.”
“Play for points?” said Kaz. “Score three for a bloodsucker, one for a live one and half for other undead.”
“Let’s just keep it simple,” said Thyella, “One each.”
“I’m up two, then,” said Sjorgi, once she had picked up how Kaz did it.
They were still bickering over their respective scores over breakfast, when the bombardment was over; now it was up to the glyph-rank Alethosi to use undead-abjuration on the nekrosti and skeletons, as the dust from the sky stones blocked the sun.
“Of course, that’s one reason they used the sky stones,” said Kaz. “And there would have been more dust if they had been striking stone city buildings. And they might have hoped for a breach in the walls for the undead to come through. Lovely people to loose such terror on civilians and children.”
Sjurgi went red.
“I never thought of it like that when I was Thea Drex,” she said.
“You weren’t encouraged to think,” said Thyella. “We won’t let them get their hooks into you again.”
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