Dark Gods Rising

by Mark Eller

  * * * *

  "You’re late," Farnon, the daytime cook, growled as Anithia rushed through the Tavern’s door. In the evening, when the Tavern’s real clientele arrived, Farnon was not of much account, but during her day shift, he was the person Carrid Brewer had put in charge. She didn’t care much for the either Carrid or Farnon, but she needed the job.

  "I'm only late by a quarter bell!" Ani snapped back.

  "Don't give a whore’s ass how much you’re late by. Late is late. Move it or you won’t have to worry about making it on time tomorrow." He glared at her with beady, dark brown eyes surrounded by a face-full of red blubber. His bald head glistened with sweat, and his dark shirt and apron were already grease stained.

  Piss on you, Ani thought. She walked past him and went into the back.

  He followed her. "Think you can do whatever the hell you want, don't you? Hmm? You think just because Carrid agreed to hire you that you’re something special? Well, don’t think too hard because I have the power to fire you. I could fire you right now and find somebody to take your place in half an hour."

  Ani bit her lip to keep from screaming. Is there no god out there who has even a little pity for me? Haven’t I been through enough? Her stomach twisted. Her nerves were strung taut, and she could feel his greasy eyes on her, touring her body like she was his next meal.

  Abruptly grabbing her arm with a meaty fist, he pulled her to a stop. "You don't walk away from me." His breath smelled of bad booze and vomit. The rancid fragrance was almost more than her stomach could stand. She wrenched away, coughed, and knew she would be sick if he breathed on her again.

  "Look!" she snapped. "I'm here, so let me get to work."

  She loathed him. She hated his belittling ways and hungry eyes, but jobs were rare and Missa had to eat, leaving her no choice but to restrain from telling the louse to bugger off.

  "Just you remember," Farnon said, "Carrid would fire you in a moment if I was to say the word. He trusts me, he does. We go way back together." His eyes fell to the swell of her breasts and lingered there for a moment. He licked his fat, worm lips, looking back into her face. "Go on. Get outta my face, you tramp."

  Ani turned and hurried out into the Tavern’s main room, knowing his eyes were fastened on her ass. She seethed. One of these days Farnon would pay for the way he treated people. It might not happen today or even tomorrow, but it would happen soon. Allowing anyone to talk to her or look at her with disrespect ate at her insides. Larson would have beaten the crap out of the piece of sweaty pig flesh, but Larson wasn’t here. He was dead, and she was alone, and she had little choice but to put up with this shit as best she could so she could keep her job and Missa could eat.

  An old man sitting at a side table raised his head when she burst into the bar room. "You shouldn’t let him get to you. Everything balances out in the end."

  "Thanks for the useless wisdom," Ani snapped, "but you can keep it. The sun is barely risen, and I'm already having a really crappy day." She looked around the tavern. Except for the old man, it was empty of people, and this surprised her. "Where’s Cree," she wondered aloud. "He's always first through the door. Has to have his breakfast drink and won’t go anywhere but here."

  "He got into some trouble last night with a gnome," the old man replied indifferently. "You won’t see him again."

  Ani’s stomach fell. "Just wonderful. One of the few bright spots in my life just disappeared."

  The old man gave her a gentle smile. "You remind me of a seaside tree rooted in rocky ground. For most of its life it’s a weak and pitiful thing. Usually the tree dies before gaining any height, but sometimes, twisted and gnarled by wind and waves, it survives and becomes stronger than its more privileged brethren."

  Ani looked at him suspiciously, wondering if she were about to be proselytized. From the parable, he almost sounded like a priest. “Who are you?”

  She didn’t remember seeing him before, and there was something odd in the way he looked at her. His eyes were a deep, starling, almost inhumanly blue.

  Tensing with sudden realization, Ani shot a quick glace toward the cellar door before focusing on her customer once more. “Did you come out of the hellhole?"

  Throwing back his head, he laughed with a voice so strong it echoed off the tavern walls. "Think I climbed out of Hell, do you? No, young miss. I’m not what you would call normal, but there’s nothing of Hell about me."

  "Ani!" Farnon yelled. "Shut your gods damned trap and get to working. Carrid ain’t paying you to talk."

  Ani cast a glare over her shoulder at the kitchen door and then turned back to the old man.

  "Sorry." she apologized, but he was no longer there.

  Frowning, Ani looked around to see where he might have gone, but the tavern was empty. The man had disappeared almost as if he were a ghost, a foolish thought since only superstitious fools believed ghosts were real.

  Shivering, Ani scowled and set about her duties until, moments later, the outer door opened to admit a new customer.

  “Anithia Morlon?” a soft sultry voice asked.

  Ani’s scowl grew deeper when she saw a beautiful similian framed in the open doorway. The woman was stunning, as were both the other similians Ani had previously seen, but this one seemed somehow different. With her long black hair, soft pouty black lips, and skin the color of the sky after sunset, she was a unique blend of symmetry and color. Tall and sensuous, the similian stepped inside, carelessly closed the door, and strode across the floor to stand before Ani.

  “I’m Sulya Ibarra. I worked with your husband.” Sulya extended her hand.

  Paling, Ani felt like someone had just thrown a pail of cold rainwater into her face. This woman had been with Larson on the night he was murdered.

  “What do you want?” Ani asked, her voice barely a whisper.

  Farnon waddled out of the back kitchen. When Ani shot him a look she caught his attention and angry glare. “Hey! Didn’t I tell ya to shut up and work?” He caught sight of Sulya. “Well, what we got here?”

  “You have me,” the similian said. “A customer.” A strange scent drifted through the room. The fragrance made Ani lightheaded, while Farnon’s angry glare faded away to be replaced by insistent lust. Racing around the bar, he hurried over to offer Sulya a chair.

  “Can I get you sumtin’ to drink? Maybe some food? We make breakfast here if there’s a need.” A glazed expectant look settled on Farnon’s face as he peered down Sulya’s open blouse, almost drooling over her perfectly curved breasts.

  In response, the similian smiled. The air stirred and Ani suddenly knew an intense desire to please the woman. She started to beg for some way to be of service but stopped before she made a fool out of herself like Farnon, not that making him look like an idiot was hard.

  “Yes. I’d like some of the delicate wine I saw Carrid bringing in from the back last week. It’s probably in the hidden cupboard.” Sitting, Sulya crossed her legs, letting one slide seductively up and over the other. Her black satin pants made a quiet hiss, reminding Ani of a slithering snake.

  Farnon stood slack jawed and unmoving. “Yes, yes, anything you want.”

  Ani’s mouth dropped open. When Carrid realized the oaf had plundered his private supply, he’d kill Farnon. Ani watched Farnon stagger off, hoping she was nearby when Carrid made the discovery.

  “So,” Sulya turned her gaze back to Ani. “I’m sorry it has taken me so long to find you. I’ve been busy.” A coy smile played upon her lips.

  Anithia blinked several times and tried to clear her head. Despite the fact she seemed inexplicably attracted to the similian, she didn’t like this woman. “Why are you looking for me? I don’t want anything to do with people from Larson’s other life.”

  She meant it. Anothosia’s knights had brought her nothing but trouble. They had a habit of bringing demons and devils upon their heads as well as on the heads of those they were supposed to protect. The entire bunch of them was nothing but holy nutters running a
round with big swords and an attitude.

  “Look,” the similian said, setting a placating hand on Ani’s shoulder. “I know his death was hard on you and your daughter but—”

  Ani shook the hand from her shoulder and cut the similian off. “Hard? Our lives have been hard?” She seethed. “Oh yes, our lives have been a living hell.”

  Farnon chose that moment to stumble back into the room with a heavy silver goblet filled with fruity wine. The strong earthy smell filled the room, almost drowning out the odor emitting from Sulya. Ani’s mouth watered.

  Accepting the goblet, Sulya casually swirled it under her nose. “Hmm, a very good year indeed. You may go now.” With a flutter of fingers, Sulya dismissed Farnon without so much as a thank you.

  He stood a moment, looking awkward and embarrassed, and then shuffled back into the kitchen.

  “As I was saying,” Sulya continued as if Ani had said nothing. “My belated condolences on your husband’s demise. Larson was a good friend and a brave warrior, but careless.” She took a sip of wine, lowered the glass, and watched Ani from over its rim.

  Ani wanted to beat the crap out of her.

  Sulya set the glass down and then held up her hand. Long red nails peaked over slender fingers. One bore the ring of the Order of Warriors, the same order Larson had belonged to. Ani stared at the gold ring, with its sword and staff crossed over the sun, and all the frustration of the last two years boiled over.

  Sulya smiled. “Before you hit me, give me but one moment to explain why I’m here.”

  Ani did not want to listen. She didn’t care why the similian accosted her. She did not want to see another ring like that one ever again, and she sure as hell did not want anyone who wore one speaking to her.

  Knocking the goblet from the table, she thrust her hand toward the door. “Get out! Get out and take your load of arvid shit with you!”

  Sulya casually glanced at the spilt wine and slowly rose. Her skin changed to a bright fuchsia, and her cat eyes narrowed.

  “I’ll be back when you’re in a more receptive mood, but let me leave you with a warning.” She stepped closer to Ani until mere inches separated them. “Hell has its eye on you and your child. If I were you, I’d find a new place to live.”

  Turning, Sulya swaggered to the door, opened it, and left.

  Ani felt like she had been stabbed in the gut. What did Sulya mean by saying Hell had its eye on them? Why?

  “Is she gone?” Farnon peeked out from behind the kitchen door, a worried look on his face. He spotted the spilled wine and his expression became one of horror. “Aagghh.”

  Hurrying over, he tried to mop up the wine with an already soaked towel. “Just don’t stand there, ya stupid cow. Pick up the goblet and help get this mess cleaned up. It’ll be your job if Carrid comes in and finds Mathew Changer’s best wine on the floor.”

  Ani glared at Farnon. She wanted to kick him. Instead, she swallowed her rage, picked up the cup, and went looking for another towel. When she found it, she just might use the towel to strangle the fat pig.

  The rest of the day did not improve. Farnon kept at her like an unmerciful soulwright. Every acidic word he uttered bit deep into her heart like a metal tipped whip lashing her to the bone. This last year had not toughened her enough to face his abuse. Instead, it had worn and diminished her. She sometimes doubted she would ever recover enough to become who she had once been.

  "If only I had a little of my old courage," she whispered. "I’d shove my knife into Farnon’s fat gut and leave this wretched city." Unfortunately, she knew her courage didn’t stretch so far. The only things she had left to her was a child who needed tending and two promises she had made to Larson only days before he died. She would never again sell her body, and she would never again allow Missa to sing while they still lived in Yylse.

  Ani settled into her work, feeling old, brittle, and used.