destiny's queen 10

 

Chapter 10

 

“Oh, mighty Skyhorse, lord of thunder, rescue me and my maid and the sixteen virgins to be violated from an unwanted wedding,” said Tallys.

There was a rumble of thunder.

“I... surely not...” said Kissia, clinging to Tallys.

A loud crack, the smell of ozone, and a blond, bearded warrior appeared in Tallys’s bedroom.

“As you thought of others, your prayer is answered,” said Harkon. “But you will have to be kept secret and safe until we’re ready. Take my hands. Uh... did you pack?”

“No,” said Tallys.

“Oh, for goodness sake! Pack quickly, both of you, simple clothes, you don’t want to smell for a lack of changes.”

Kissia packed quickly, more hindered than helped by Tallys.

“Monthly cloths,” said Harkon.

Kissia blushed, and packed them.

“Right. Hold on,” said Harkon, and zapped them back to Sjurgi’s inner courtyard.

“Find them some rooms, and make sure nobody sees them who isn’t one of us,” said Harkon.

“But... but you’re Thea Drex!” said Tallys, trembling.

“Not any more; I’ve gone back to being Sjurgi, which is who I was born,” said Sjurgi. “Come along! I don’t think I have anyone disloyal, but your mother would pay much for your whereabouts, and we need to change your appearance quickly.”

Tallys and Kissia let themselves be led off meekly.

“I wonder if we should send them to Mesolimnos,” said Ralthur.

“No; I have the feeling we will need Tallys to see what really goes on, and to be ready to take over when we win,” said Harkon.

 

 

“Isn’t rescuing the slaves who are to be deflowered more important than changing my appearance?” demanded Tallys. Sjurgi was cutting her hair ruthlessly, and dying it. Unlike the Empress, who was a strawberry blonde, Tallys had ginger hair, not dark enough auburn to be the prized ‘blood hair,’ but distinctive for all that.

“We had already been planning on that; you and Kissia are, as you might say, an extra bargain,” said Sjurgi.

“Well, what are you going to do about them? I demand to know!” Tallys stamped her feet.

She found herself upended over Sjurgi’s lap and received two sharp rebukes where Sjurgi thought it would do most good.

“You have no need to know,” said Sjurgi. “Do not act the spoilt brat to me, miss.”

“Nobody has ever struck me, before!” gasped Tallys. “Kissia is my whipping maid!”

“And is that fair?” asked Sjurgi.

“No,” said Tallys. “I try not to get her into trouble, but I don’t understand why I shouldn’t be told. I care that they are going to be hurt over me. And that isn’t right.”

“You have the right instincts; but for now, you must live with being kept in the dark. Because you might let something slip by accident; we don’t know you, and don’t know how good you are at keeping secrets,” said Sjurgi. “And because you demanded most rudely of me.”

“But... but I am a princess!” said Tallys.

“Means nothing to me; I’m a hero of Alethos, which means I’ve earned respect, not expecting to get it merely for being squeezed out between the august thighs of your bitch of a mother,” said Sjurgi.

Tallys gaped.

“I... I have always been treated with respect,” she said.

“No, you have always been treated with circumspection because you can cause trouble for others,” said Sjurgi. “If you want to learn to be free, you will have to work your way up like everyone else. And, by the way, Kissia, do you want to resume your former name?”

“Yes,” said Kissia. “I am Vanda.”

Sjurgi frowned.

“Do you have an elder sister named Svargia? I believe she was born to the tribe of the deer, though she is also adopted to the tribe of the wild falcons.”

“Yes, I do!” said Vanda. “I am tribe of the deer.”

“Then you are as kindred to me,” said Sjurgi. “Svargia is a dear sword-sister of mine, and we stood shoulder to shoulder with her adopted kindred, Vulk and Polia to tear down the moonwolf;  Vulk has assumed his place, with shifters replacing lycoids, even as my brother has taken on the duties of the god of storms, who was slain by the wolf. You need to know this; but I ask you both not to speak of it, as we do not want the worshippers of Ombros the Skyhorse to despair at his death.”

“I... we appear to be in very exalted company,” said Tallys. “I do not know the protocols.”

“We work on the protocol of being polite to everyone except enemies,” said Sjurgi, dryly. “And to me, you rank slightly below Vanda, since she’s kin of my kin. Get used to it.”

“I...” Tallys shut her mouth with a snap, containing a burst of temper.

“Good girl,” said Sjurgi.

 

Julus Helio sent for Fadabius and Aquilix. He looked as if he had aged several years, and his clothes hung limply on him.

“I’ll cut to the chase,” he said. “The empress’s daughter, Princess Tallys, has been kidnapped, possibly by plainsmen, as her plainswoman slave has vanished with her.”

“Are you certain it was a kidnapping?” asked Harkon.

“Well, what else can it be, Aquilix?” asked Julus.

“I heard the bridegroom is supposed to be Ogeron Cass,” rumbled Harkon.

“Yes, what of it? He’s a general, thirty years old, good looking, excellent family,” said Julus.

“Don’t you think that a very young girl might find thirty to be old?” said Harkon. “And she’s bound to think he’s older than he is, since he’s her mother’s lover.  I find that sort of relationship rather disturbing as a suitor for a young girl.”

Julus paled.

“Surely she cannot have run away?” he gasped. “Where would she go?”

Harkon shook his head, sadly. “I doubt a tenderly reared princess would get very far, unless she had help from without. There are always predators at night. Young girls are favoured prey of bloodsuckers, who are welcome in our city as worshippers of the goddess’s daughter. I’ve pulled a few out of the river in my time. By that time, their original rank is no longer obvious, once they’ve been exsanguinated into husks. The... damage... where the bloodsuckers sate their lust as well is usually extensive.”

“Oh, goddess!” said Julus, paling. “But... but maybe she has been kidnapped? Isn’t it possible?”

“It is,” said Ralthur. “And we will certainly keep our noses to the ground. I fear we’ve been concentrating our finest efforts on uncovering dissidents. So, does she have any distinguishing mark, lest the sad fact arise of finding her body?”

“Divert  all your efforts to finding Princess Tallys,” said Julus. “As far as I know there is no distinguishing mark... a princess cannot have a blemish. She has distinctive rust-coloured hair.  Just... find her. And make sure she is alive.”

“You do not wish people to know she is missing, but suppose it were to be released that she celebrates her wedding in true Trickster fashion by hiding in plain sight, and a reward of five thousand moons is offered if she is correctly identified, and brought to a royal guard post?” suggested Harkon. Julus looked horrified for a moment, and then cunning.

“You know, that’s actually quite brilliant,” he said. “Go and see to it.”

“As you command,” said Harkon, bowing. They left; and exchanged a savage grin.

The royal guard was about to get sightings of the royal runaway in random places that would keep them running about like headless chickens, freeing Harkon and Ralthur to operate wherever they pleased. And all kinds of imposters would be presented; and if they suffered for it, well, the wages of greed were never pretty.

“Mind, if I was Julus, I’d hang on to any imposters,” said Ralthur. “Once they fail to find her, they will want a bride on the wedding day, or lose a massive amount of face. And she only has to bear a superficial  likeness, for how many people have seen her close up or for long?”

“Good point,” said Harkon.

 

oOoOo

 

“And supposing someone sees me and reports me?” asked Tallys, in a panic.

“That’s why you are learning to move and walk like a boy so it never occurs to anyone,” said Sjurgi.  “Learn well, and you will be fine.”

 

oOoOo

 

Deathday could not come soon enough for the conspirators.

Naturally, they went to worship with their bodyguard; that their worship was not sincerely directed at Thanus would not be noticed in a congregation whose worship was mostly for the reason of getting on in their military career. As a group of heroes, they were able to act as their own temple, and almost openly worship Alethos. Harkon stood hard on Dróg’s foot when the trógling had to fight a fit of the giggles. He swiftly got it under control; he was used to schooling emotions.

And Harkon, Ralthur, and Sjurgi slipped out as the godplane was opened for the celebrants to enter and experience their god, slipping down into the subterranean parts of the temple which Harkon had once had to learn about from Kaz.

One of the trógling team was waiting, impatiently, to usher them into the sewers, through a neat hole.

“If you take too long, I’ll close it up, my lord,” he said.

“Yes, obviously,” said Harkon. “Good man. Alethos be with you.”

They followed the sewers to the basement of the temple to Selen, where another trógling grinned savagely.

“Let them have it,” he said. 

“We will,” said Harkon.

First things must be accomplished first, and the holding cells of the girls rounded up for deflowering must be discovered. Sjurgi knew where holding cells might be found; for penitents of the faith, usually, as well as political prisoners. It was a surprise to find four older girls held in separate cells.

“Don’t make a noise, we’re here to rescue you,” said Sjurgi. “Why are you being held separately?”

“Because we older ones planned to spoil the ceremony by deflowering everyone as gently as possible,” said one of the girls. “It wouldn’t stop them hurting us but at least it would be inauspicious.”

“Heh, you have a future ahead of you as a rebel,” said Sjurgi. “Come on, quickly, and help with the little ones. We have some Thorns to kill.”

“I hope they die hard,” said the girl. “They’ve been describing what they intended.”

“They’ll die as hard as we can make it,” said Sjurgi, who was planning on making her fatal wounds land low down.

It would stand as well for the so-called lovers she had had to take to escape the circus.

Nobody was looking for intruders; and the girls, some of them sobbing in fear, were hastily escorted to the trógling at the way out.

“I’ll close up, and come back for you,” he said.

Harkon nodded.

Now they headed for the basement temple of Aima, which housed the ‘Thorns’ and other members of the blood cult. Even in the deliberately ecumenical Selenite empire, bloodsuckers were not liked, and so their temple was hidden within the body of the overarching temple to Selen.  And it being Deathday, they were at their own worship.

The Alethosi fell on them. They all considered the worship of undead to be a blasphemous travesty of the gift of death. The celebrants died where they stood, some of them scarcely realising what had happened, and Harkon, shedding thunderbolts involuntarily, advanced on Aima, whose presence was partly in the temple with the opened godplane.

The goddess fled rapidly back to the lunarsphere, but not before Harkon managed to throw a thunderbolt at her retreating presence.

“Take that, you bitch,” he said.

“And now she will report to her mother, and they’ll know Aquilix has gone rogue,” worried Sjurgi.

“She didn’t see Aquilix,” said Ralthur. “She saw Ombros, somehow healed of what damage her brother did; and she is afraid.”

“That’s the way I like it,” grunted Harkon. “We need to deal with these damned bodies, and the bound spirit here and torch the place so they can’t be made into nekrosti.”

“I handled the priest,” said Ralthur. “My first bloodsucker.”

“I doubt it’ll be your last,” said Harkon. Magical fire consumed the bodies, and the three heroes shredded the guardian spirit to make reconsecrating the temple harder.

“That will do for today,” said Harkon, leading them back to where the laconic trógling had returned, after delivering the rescued girls to a safe house.

And then they returned to the temple of Thanus, and the trógling shut up the tunnels and slipped away; and Fadabius, Aquilix, and Thea might leave the temple openly, without anyone being any the wiser to their excursion.

The news broke in panic before it could be suppressed, of course.

Fadabius and Aquilix went to see Julus Helio.

“I have heard that the princess fled to a lover who is a plainsman, who invoked the wildstorm Skyhorse to spoil the ceremony so that no wedding could take place,” said Harkon, who had left it to Vanda to come up with a tale to explain all, which meant that he could truthfully say that he had heard this.

There might be a backlash on plainsmen; but identifying which clan to blame was not going to be easy, and indiscriminate punitive action would only stir up the rebellious plainsmen more.

More patrols were sent out to look for the princess; which would also offend the plainsmen.

Harkon felt he could live with that.

 

Days passed, and the ‘joke’ being played by the princess was declared to be over; and a princess of sorts was presented to wave to the crowd. The hair was more or less the right colour.

And the guard rounded up young girls from the poor of the city to be the sacrificial virgins. Rumour that the Thorns were dead had spread; and that they were to be replaced by exemplary guards. It might be amusing to note how many guards were deliberately slovenly to get out of it, but it was also worrying.

“This time, I take the temple down,” said Harkon. “And we need to spread the word that girls who are not slaves were taken; I suspect most good burghers of the city could care less about slaves, but once it’s hinted that next will be the artisans, and then the sub-patricians....”

“Rumours to be spread in the market place need good middle class women, shopping,” said Sjurgi.

“We must have some women who aren’t babes able to assume that guise,” said Harkon. “If not, we can collect a few.”

“And some young girls who are well dressed, whispering to their fellows,” suggested Vanda.

The campaign of whispers was started; and this time, Harkon, Ralthur, and Sjurgi went directly to the temple of Selen to remove the frightened girls who had been picked, Sjurgi taking them back whilst Harkon and Ralthur moved purposefully through the temple, killing any glyph-rank they encountered, and culminating with Harkon bursting up through the roof, dragging a whirlwind behind him, and showering lightning bolts, until the main buildings of the temple to Selen was destroyed.

Meanwhile, their cultivated agitators were  busy leading a popular uprising. Those royal guard who hated the idea of becoming thorns, even if they had never protested the custom before, joined with the populace.

Harkon placed Tallys into the hands of Sardio SubDoxus. He could reveal her as a new leader when it seemed auspicious.

“Our work here is done, I think,” he said.

“We can always ferment unrest in other cities another time,” agreed Ralthur.

They left, with Firri, Vanda and any others who wanted to go with them. The latest tranche of girls had been restored to their families, so that left only a few younger slaves not old enough to be part of the freedom fighters yet.

 

Destiny's queen 9

 

Chapter 9

 

Being a god was, thought Harkon, ridiculously busy. Powering the excess required for a mortal to cast a glyph-spell was relatively easy, and did not take much concentration, but listening to the whining, and the bad poetry as his new worshippers confronted enemies was tedious and irritating.

Harkon waited for Windsday, for the formalised worship on the solar plane.

“Henceforth, no poetry is required,” he said. “The war is too intense. Convert, ignore, or kill, depending on the threat level you meet. Offer removal of chaos taints; I’ll follow through. I don’t really care about you confronting some poor peasant who has been turned into a lycoid; report it to me for him to be cured. Only kill him if he doesn’t want to be cured. It’s time to actually fight the real enemy not worry about the sort of chaos which is not an outright supporter of Selen and her filthy brood.  The Moon Wolf has been replaced, and a shifter is now stealing the lycoids to become disease-free shifters. Do what you can to help.”

“Why don’t we just kill them?”

It was Erippion Windblown.

Of course it was Erippion Windblown.

“Because, you idiot, if you kill an enemy that’s one enemy down. If you make him into a friend, that’s not just one enemy down but one friend up,” said Harkon.

Erippion took being called an idiot by his god remarkably well; but then, Ombros was rather direct.

Harkon waited for the other sandal to drop, and for Erippion to recognise him, having known Harkon for many years; but apparently Erippion saw what he expected to see.

Harkon complained to Alethos.

“I’m sure I’d notice if you weren’t you,” he said.

“Beloved brother, of course you would,” said Alethos. “You’d notice because we are close, and also your glyph of truth would tell you something was wrong.” He smiled. “Don’t worry about it,” he went on. “The majority of my worshippers wouldn’t notice what I am, because most give little more than lip service, to gain the training, at least, those of initiate level and some glyph-lords. Feel sorry for Thanus; there is a movement amongst the patrician warriors who give him nominal worship, glyph-lords or no, that believe that their sacrificial magic is taken by the priests, and it is the priests who provide fancier magic using it, as they don’t believe in gods at all.”

Harkon gasped in horror.

“Surely such sacrifices will be sloppy and not connect properly with Thanus?” he asked.

Alethos chuckled, wickedly.

“I could not possibly suggest to your sister that she might go through every temple of Thanus to absorb loose power which has not been properly assimilated,” he said. “But every little will help when she goes to confront Thanus, as she must do at the proper time.”

Harkon sniggered.

He felt much better.

Ombros’s worshippers might not be the sharpest sticks in the bundle, but they were at least devout. Some went beyond devout into downright zealotry; but that could be addressed. And the crazier ones would probably die fighting Selenites.

 

oOoOo

 

“Daze! Did you see what they did?” screamed Selen. “One minute I was laughing over how our son killed Ombros, and he fell to the ground, with Lycos going to rip out his abilities and become the Stormwolf; and the next minute, that flat-chested idiot, Thyella was there with a load of the rag, tag and bobtail Alethos keeps about him, and they killed Lycos! And his most loyal priests! What happened? The prophecy said he would be the Stormwolf! Do something! Undo it! Make it right!” she sobbed in real fear.

“The prophecy said that when the thunderer called for a reckoning, if the blood-moon aided the moon-wolf, the moon-wolf would become the Stormwolf, and none should stand before him,” said Daze. “You stupid woman! You let Lycos deal with Ombros by himself, didn’t you?”

“But... but I thought he did not need me!” cried Selen. “You know how he is if people interfere in his prey... how he was, I mean.”

“You should have softened Ombros up before calling in Lycos,” scolded Daze. “And then you should have gone to Lycos’s aid on the ground.”

“I... I did not know they could kill him so fast! I was answering other prayers!” said Selen. “It wasn’t my fault!”

“It was your fault,” said Daze. “Now you only have Aima to guard you, and she spends most of her time shagging her bloodsuckers.”

There were very few female bloodsuckers; Aima liked her priesthood available to entertain her.

Selen cried in earnest.

She was suddenly afraid.

 

oOoOo

 

Slipping up to the lunarsphere whilst Selen was preoccupied was easier for Kaz, especially as she was visiting another lunar deity.

“You’re the trógling they say will heal me and take away the curse; you don’t look like much,” humphed the huddled figure of the moon, still beautiful in her ravaged state, a soft glow to her blue-black skin and shining silver hair, though her six breasts wept pus.

“We need to co-ordinate our efforts, Rogaz,” said Kaz. “We are moving into the endgame now. My brother-in-arms, Volk, has defeated Lycos and taken his powers, in order to cure the lycoids. I need you to weaken Daze for me.”

“How can I do that?”

“Since the creation of tróglings, those not specifically welcomed into your worship or that of other toróg gods, have been his to feed on, and to take to his corner of twisted godsphere, to enhance his power. I purpose to free all those souls, but in the meantime, if you tell your priestesses that they should inform their tróglings that they are free to worship the Daykaz, the mother of trógling, I will get their worship and power to help me against Daze,” said Kaz. “In due course, I will lead those who want to leave to new lands, once your own fertility is regained. You and I will have to take down Selen together, and destroy her ritually, to assimilate her power into yourself. And it must be while her power is full, with the full moon, or you will also be tied to waxing and waning as she is.”

“I would have accepted that as an improvement, but I prefer a full healing,” said Rogaz, hungrily. “What will happen to my children?”

“I have spoken with Fate,” said Kaz. “If all is done correctly, things will not be entirely as they were before, as the web of fate moves on; but births of trógling and greater toróg will cease, and darklings will give rise to some high toróg, and more who have four or even six breasts amongst the darkling numbers. High toróg will always breed true; and over time it may be that Darklings die out, but their numbers are needed to restore a population of high toróg.”

Rogaz nodded.

“That seems reasonable,” she said. “I will heal, and so will my children. I can live with it taking a while; my darklings have been loyal.”

“It may be that fate has a purpose for them, also, as your envoys to humans, and traders,” said Kaz. “Your daughter, Hraazaz, finds trading harder now she has transitioned to be a high toróg, though it’s a price she willingly pays, obviously. We have struck a friendship, and her adoptive daughter is close to my own daughter. I think that Hraazaz will take on the healing aspect of your pantheon when she has gone beyond herodom.”

“I owe you for aiding her achieve her potential,” said Rogaz, grudgingly.

“We had parted neutrally; and we had a common foe,” said Kaz. “It was needed for us to work together, and that we have become friends is a pleasant outcome. I know you have not welcomed my arrival, but perhaps you and I might become cordial allies?”

“I did not understand who you were when I told your grandmother that you would have to die,” admitted Rogaz. “I was afraid you would disrupt the coming of the promised Daykaz. It never occurred to me that a trógling could be the promised one.”

“Isn’t it delicious?” said Kaz. “Selen and Daze still have not realised it, and think it might be my daughter, but they still do not know that Death’s beloved is a trógling.”

“Fate chose you wisely; I see that, now,” said Rogaz. “I will work with you.”

 

oOoOo

 

Firri all but flew back into the house and cast herself on Sjurgi, in Harkon’s form.

“What is it? Who has hurt you?” asked Sjurgi, brusquely, holding the child.

“The empress’s oldest daughter is getting married,” said Firri, her teeth chattering. “I was stopped in the street because of being likely to be a virgin at my age....”

“It is a good thing Harkon isn’t here,” said Ralthur. “I rather think he’d react violently....”

“It’s time someone reacted violently,” said Sjurgi.  “Harkon, my brother! We need your stormforce here.”

Harkon arrived with a moderately quiet rumble of thunder, brushing away hailstones and lightning bolts in irritation.

“Is it important?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Sjurgi, going back to her usual appearance. “Firri ran home in terror, having been stopped, because Princess Tallys is getting married.”

Harkon frowned.

“I don’t understand the cause and effect there,” he said.

“When a patrician girl is married, as many virgins as she has years of life have their maidenheads sacrificed, so their sufferings in blood grant her fertility. The temple Thorns are contracted to... to pierce rosebuds, and to be as rough as possible to make as much blood as possible; some of them are initiates of Aima, and sometimes younger virgins die from the damage,” said Sjurgi. “And they are not particular about them being of nubile age.”

The house shook with thunder, before Harkon got it under control.

“This stops now,” said Harkon.

“Yes, but we need to be clever about it; don’t get your head filled with the winds of Ombros,” said Ralthur.

Harkon shook his head as if to clear it.

“I want to make a whirlwind to flatten her temples,” he said.

“Of course you do, but that flattens the virgins, too,” said Sjurgi. “Be more subtle.”

“Fine. We go to the temple to worship, cloaked until we are within, kill everyone except the girls, and take them out via thunderbolt,” said Harkon.

“Half right,” said Ralthur. “We get a map of the storm drains and sewers, and Dróg’s team set us up a tunnel from the basement, and close it up after we’ve led the girls out.”

“Too much of Ombros in my head,” said Harkon. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Of course you will, brother,” said Sjurgi. “Now, do you have a map of the drains?”

“Of course; Dróg found us a former miner, and I diced for his ownership. Fate is fond of me, so I won,” said Harkon. “Velg is also educated and can draw maps. He’s been working on mapping all the drains in the city, and colour coded over the size you need to be to get through them.”

“You can trust him?”

“I used truthsense on him,” said Harkon. “And got his mate out too, so that he could not be pressured nor coerced.”

“Wise,” said Sjurgi.

“Oh, there’s a movement amongst ranking Selenites who worship for form’s sake, and of Thanus too, but do not really believe in gods. Apparently, there is spare power sitting around to absorb; Alethos suggested you might take it.”

“Why don’t we go to the temple of Thanus, and have Velg open a way into the sewers to go to the temple of Selen? That way we need not be the last people seen to enter,” said Sjurgi.

“I like it,” said Ralthur.

“Or, why don’t we just go via the drains in the first case?” said Harkon.

“Because if we are seen in the temple of Thanus on Deathday, we would not be elsewhere,” said Ralthur. “We have enough knowledge of glyphs to set up simulacra to be noticed whilst we slip out; and we return to join the congregation.”

“That should work,” said Harkon.

 

oOoOo

 

Tallys had tried logic; then she had tried a tantrum; then she tried crying. That usually got round her father; but of course, her father had no real power in the household at all. Empress Auralia was the power in the palace, and it was her decree that Tallys should marry Ogeron Cass, and restore his status. Tallys hated Cass; she knew he was her mother’s lover, and this disgusted her more than the thought that he was twelve years older than she was.  That could have been worse; she could have been sold to some king of a client state to cement relations, some crusty old warrior. But she considered Ogeron Cass slimy. Consequently, she was crying on her bed, hating the idea and unable to think of any way of avoiding marriage.

Tallys rolled over in bed, her tears cried out. She got up and washed her face. She summoned Kissia, her favourite slave, who studied with her to make sure she learned, as Kissia was whipped if Tallys misbehaved, or failed to learn. Tallys did her best to make sure Kissia was not whipped.

“I want to run away,” said Tallys. “But I don’t know how to live outside the palace.”

Kissia was a girl of the plains, who was very down to earth.

“You won’t manage for one moment to pretend to be one of the commons,” she said. “You walk like you own the place.”

“Well, I need to do something quickly,” said Tallys.

Kissia threw up her hands.

“You’re as helpless as a kitten,” she said. “Oh, I know you’ve had sword lessons; maybe you could dress as a page boy, but that only gets you out, it doesn’t help you live. You might just as well pray to the Skyhorse to be rescued from an intolerable fate.”

“Well, then, I shall,” said Tallys. “I don’t see why he is called evil; storms happen because storms happen, and wind is wind. Without wind and rain, farming doesn’t happen.”

“You’re serious,” said Kissia.

“I hate my mother,” said Tallys. “I don’t much care about any gods; and I hate the idea that my fertility is to be ensured by an act of cruelty to sixteen other girls some of them younger than me. I shall ask the Skyhorse to rescue them, too. Show me how to pray to him,”

Kissia sighed, and hoped they would not get caught.

 

“Harkon! Listen very carefully to a prayer,” said Moraia, goddess of Fate.

 

destiny's queen 8

 

Chapter 8

 

“Sardio SubDoxus, you’re under arrest,” said the big blond patrician, who was overdressed in purple-trimmed tunic with silver braid and beads. His companion was dark, and was dressed in primrose with green key-pattern on it and white leather fringing.

“You’ll never take me without a fight, you bastards,” said Sardio, going for his sword.

“Oh, very well,” said Harkon, who laid him out with a straight left to the jaw.

“Not sure that was what he meant,” said Ralthur.

“Oh, well, if he’s difficult, I’ll claim he broke my manicured fingernails,” said Harkon.

 

Sardio came round on a comfortable enough bunk with both patricians staring at him.

He tried to get up, but found himself manacled.

“Clodax Dren believes you’re nothing but a hothead. Julus Helio thinks you play the part of a hothead, and are actually a part of the rebellious underground.  I’ve heard it said that you are a tool of Julus Helio who stirs other people up with intent of getting them arrested. Now, which one is it?” asked Harkon.

“None of them,” growled Sardio. “I might have said some injudicious things when I was drunk. I can’t think why anyone thinks I would be disloyal.”

“Maybe because your brother was made to take the place of one Sulius Doxus, as his vassal, for military service, and he died?” said Ralthur.

“It is the duty of all citizens to die for the empire,” said Sardio.

“But your brother was put through cruel hazing rituals because his birth was subpatrician and so he was a target for them to ‘keep him in his place,’ was he not?” said Harkon. “And he took his own life to avoid the cruelty.”

“They called them ‘challenges’ to take his place beside them,” said Ralthur. “They tried to cover up the evidence, but truth will out. Did the authorities ever tell you what was done to him?”

“No, but he wrote home,” spat Sardio. “I hate you patricians with all my heart, satisfied? I hate Thanus who permitted his worshippers to do such filthy things in his name.”

“Your brother called out to Alethos to take his soul when he could bear it no longer, and Alethos answered, and called on his worshippers for vengeance,” said Harkon. “But we had to test you in case you were not sufficiently passionate, or, indeed, if you were indifferent and were a tool of Julus Helio. But Alethos permits us to  sense truth. Which is why the Internal Crimson Executive uses torture, because Thanus cannot gift truthsense.”

Sardio started shuddering.

“You... you are not loyal to the empire?” he stuttered.

“We’re here to undermine it and bring it down from within,” said Harkon. “But we need agents.  And as you are considered harmless, we want to recruit you to go back home and continue working against the empire, but with our aid and direction, to make it more efficient.”

“I... I have acted as a drunkard, deeply hurt by my brother’s death but able to do no more than drink myself to oblivion and watch for opportunities,” said Sardio. “I... and you are not going to hand me on to Osedax the Cruel?”

“He will get his justice, in due course,” said Ralthur. “We want you to run a cell of dissidents ready to sabotage and cause trouble, and then melt away.”

“I can do that,” said Sardio.

 

 

Fadabius and Aquilix became well known and feared figures. They had a list provided by some shadowy figure, and worked down it with grim determination. Most people on the list disappeared.

This was because few of the people on their list had an equivocal status like Sardio; either they were on the suspect list of Clodax Dren, or they were people he considered loyal. And those on the suspect list disappeared to be trained, assuming their loyalties truly were in opposition of the empire, and moved through trógling cut tunnels and storm drains to various safe houses. Those who were loyal to the empire were either released, having ‘proved themselves,’ or, if they knew too much about rebels, were quietly incarcerated.

 

oOoOo

 

“I bring my foster-daughter for your blessing, O mighty Solos,” said Thyella, presenting Chionea.

“Poor Thyella, having to adopt some foundling because she can’t get a man,” sneered Zeandine.

“And whose child is this lovely babe, my granddaughter?” asked Solos, lifting Chionea to give her his blessing.

“Fate herself entrusted her to my care,” said Thyella. “She is the daughter of my brother, Ombros, and one he believed to be a spirit of ice.”

“And why is this spirit of ice not caring for her child?” asked Solos.

“Because she is dead, and was dead when she seduced Ombros,” said Thyella, steadily. “Because Selen wore the semblance of the ice spirit to steal my brother’s seed to make a child who could be forced to bring winter to Mesolimnos. And as my brother would not acknowledge or pledge care for his child when Fate approached him, she came instead to me; and her tool and lover released the child for me to remove, and cured the chaos taint on her.”

“Remarkable!” said Solos, who had no intention of censuring Ombros for his sexual incontinence, since it would be the height of hypocrisy.

“I was tricked by Selen?” demanded Ombros.

“All is well, though, your daughter is not tainted,” said Thyella.

“Never mind that! I was tricked by Selen!” roared Ombros.

“Ombros! Let it go, and plan revenge....” Thyella was talking to herself, as Ombros disappeared with a crack of lightning and the stench of ozone. Thyella wept.

“Come, child, why do you weep?” asked Solos.

“It is foretold that if Ombros goes to fight without thinking it through, that he will die,” cried Thyella. “Oh! Harkon! Come to me!”

 

oOoOo

 

 

Harkon stiffened as he duelled Dróg, giving the trógling some pointers. He stepped back, and hastily saluted.

“Sorry, Dróg, something came up, and my wife needs me,” he said. “You, Ralthur, and Crondion can hold the fort.” With that, he vanished with a crack.

“Do you ever get used to that?” Dróg asked Ralthur.

“You get resigned to it,” said Ralthur. “I think that’s another piece of prophecy settling into place; Harkon is about to inherit godhood and we may have a brief problem with Lycoids until Volk gets them under control.”

“I’m glad I’m nothing to do with prophecy,” said Dróg.

 

oOoOo

 

The lunarsphere was not like the Sunsphere, which aped, in many ways, what it was like on the planet, the mighty sun throne and its surrounding throne room rolling across the sky like a majestic ship on the sea. The lunarsphere was cold, unwelcoming, where Ombros felt out of his depth, and where his magic did not work well. He felt weak, and his lightning did not work properly.

“What do you want, you impotent little god?” sneered Selen. “Did you think I find your barbaric body attractive? I needed your wind powers, that was all.”

“You bitch!” howled Ombros.

“Woof,” said Selen. “Now deal with the son of the bitch; Lycos! See him off! And rip his powers to become the Stormwolf, as our prophesies say will be yours if you prevail!”

Lycos did not have as much power as his grandsire, the Wolf of Chaos, but he was powerful, and on his parents’ home territory.  Ombros wielded his sword of lightning and cut and burned Lycos terribly, but the ravening wolf mauled him, biting off his sword arm and sinking his fangs deep into the neck of the god of storms. Ombros slipped back and fell from the lunarsphere, barely able to slow his descent to the unforgiving earth below.

 

Harkon appeared beside Thyella, and she seized his hand to pursue her brother.

“Wait,” said Harkon. “We will collect Vulk, Polia, and Sjurgi; Sjurgi can take us to the lunarsphere if need be, and understands Selen’s mind. And if this is the time, we will not succeed without Vulk, who is ordained to slay Lycos.”

“I... yes,” said Thyella, who was more prepared to hear reason than her brother.

They went via Mesolimnos, where Vulk, Polia, Svargia, and Sjurgi were finishing getting ready.

 

They arrived in time to see Ombros fall, and followed him, to cushion his descent as much as possible. Thyella took her brother’s hand, sobbing, where he lay, broken, on a mountainside.

“Sister! You were right,” coughed Ombros, his words gurgling in his ravaged throat. “You and your hero, wrest my powers from me as your last gift to me, to keep them from the wolf, who follows to become the Stormwolf, which is foretold in their prophecies. And let your child be my full successor!”

“The wolf comes,” said Sjurgi. “I stand for my brother with his pack.”

Ombros poured forth his power into his sister and brother-in-law, desperate for them to absorb all.

“My spirit... gives power to your child... and bind the remnants of it to aid you,” said Ombros, to Harkon. “I... you have made my sister happy; I give you my blessing and love, my brother.”

Tears ran down Harkon’s face as he bound the spirit of his dead brother-in-law to him, knowing that to keep his powers from the use of Selen and her pantheon was as important as fighting Lycos.

“Harkon...” said Thyella.

“Let us aid in avenging him,” said Harkon, coming to his feet in one fluid move, as the former god’s body flickered and dissipated into the air which had ruled him.

Thyella nodded, and they went to stand beside Vulk. Their friend had a good grasp on the throat of Lycos, but Lycos was casting vicious spells, opening diseased wounds. Polia was casting healing as Sjurgi fought the foul diseased moon-wolf. Harkon went to his sister’s side, and Thyella took up the other side, smiting at the wolf, magical weapons causing some damage, but not as much as might be expected; and then other lycoids joined him, summoned by their god.

“Keep them off him,” directed Polia. Vulk’s friends did as bidden, slaying the disease-carrying beasts with grim determination, as Vulk gradually, but surely, overcame the already wounded god, ripping out his throat and absorbing his strength through the blood of his foe. The fight took place on the spirit plane, too as Lycos resisted Vulk. Vulk snarled and used the spell sharpblade on his own teeth to bite into the spirit of his foe, tearing and rending the chaos within, as he absorbed the power from the weakening kormajaia of the great moon wolf.

And finally it was over; and all that was left was to fight lycoids, too fanatical to persuade to the ways of Alethos or Vulk himself. It was a short battle, and Vulk sat back on his haunches and howled, summoning the surviving Lycoid glyph-ranks to him in the godbeing, for Vulk, by choice, part of the realms of Alethos; and Alethos stood with him as well as his other friends, to let the great gift ripple through them, removing all chaos and turning them from werewolves into shifters. Those who shunned him might still take up with the Selenite gods, but would no longer turn into brute beasts when the moon was full, to run about passing on diseases, not least, lycanthropy itself, but other diseases like distemper and rabies.

“I’ll have to contact every wolf to rid them of their taints,” said Vulk, shifting back to his human form, a rangy plainsman.

“The wolves we spoke to before will spread the word in the north,” said Harkon. “Go to the plains, and make yourself known to the plainsmen, and enlist their aid to find plains wolves.”

“Yes, a good idea,” agreed Vulk.

“We must report to my august grandsire,” said Thyella. “And you must take on the duties of my brother, dear Harkon.”

“I suppose so,” said Harkon. “But what about my duties in Selenopolis?”

“I will take on your semblance, my brother, and go to aid Ralthur Kron,” said Sjurgi. “I can bear to look on the city again, and view it as a conqueror not a grateful disciple. But I must take leave of Firri, the child you sent to me, whom I am fostering.”

“Yes, you must explain that you have duties,” said Harkon. “And she will be safe enough in the temple of Alethos.”

 

oOoOo

 

“Beloved Grandsire, father, mother, I fear I must break bad tidings,” said Thyella, kneeling shakily before the sun throne. “The moonwolf slew my brother; but we took his dying wishes, that a son of mine will hold his powers, and that my husband shall do his duties whilst our son waits to be born, and grows up.”

“HUSBAND?” squealed Zeandine. “But you’re the celestial virgin!”

“I WAS the celestial virgin,” said Thyella. “Do keep up.”

“With a heavy heart, I can but bless your endeavours to provide a young god to take the duties, but never the place, of Ombros,” said Solos. “This must be hidden from his worshippers so they do not despair.”

“I will never lie if asked outright, mighty Solos; I am still a son of Alethos,” said Harkon.

“Oh, they won’t,” said Solos, waving a hand.  “I don’t want to disparage my grandson, but his worshippers are not, on the whole, terribly... how shall we put it? Deep thinkers. So long as they see you as the thunderer, or Skyhorse, or Skybull, however they frame their belief in your form.”

“Indeed, mighty one, and as such, a god is, as I understand it, generally formed into the general conception of his form by all but the most powerful of his followers.”

Solos gave an austere smile.

“My light falls upon a few travesties of the appearance of Alethos,” he said.

“Truly,” said Harkon, who had seen his beloved god depicted both as a muscle-bound oaf, and as a skeletal figure with the sword of severance.

 

oOoOo

 

Firri frowned.

“I am old enough to help,” she said. “If I wear the costume and insignia of a slave of House Drex, I will be inviolate to most, and I can overhear things as children do.”

Sjurgi wavered.

“Very well,” she said.

She appeared with Firri in Ralthur’s office.

“I’m going to take on Harkon’s appearance,” she said. “Firri did not want to be left behind.”

Ralthur blushed.

“I... I am very happy to see you,” he said. “I will do my best to protect the child; she can stay within...”

“She will run errands as a valued slave, and use her eyes and ears,” said Sjurgi. “I will not disrespect her.”

Ralthur sighed.

“You see yourself in her.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, lady, it is not.”

“And you will forget that I am anyone but your partner, Aquilix.”

“I can handle it,” said Ralthur. 

He reflected to himself that if she was wearing Harkon’s form, and with a beard, he was at least less likely to want to draw her into his arms and kiss her, and protect her, as he had wanted to do to Thea Drex since he had first seen her.