Descent Into Fury

by Sean Hinn

  Steps sounded on the porch.

  “Not a word. I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

  “I should leave. It’s not safe—”

  “Yes. You should. At dawn. I’ll feed you breakfast, but—”

  The door flew open. “Cold as a witch’s arse out there!”

  “Fillip! We have a guest!”

  Fillip smiled, pretending not to hear.

  “Where’s the lantern? Did you leave it in the privy again?”

  “Bah!” Fillip eyed Mila. “Gettin’ old is a calamity, young lady. Dunno if it starts in the head or the bowels, but eventually, they both get clogged up.”

  “Fillip!”

  Mila couldn’t help but to laugh. “It’s all right, Emma. I’ll go get the lantern.”

  “Fury you will!” the man said. “Not if you like breathin’! Ain’t safe in the privy for an hour at least.”

  “Fillip Manchele, you are vile!”

  Fillip and Mila laughed again. “Don’t fret, miss. I know my way back to the privy. Ain’t all that dark yet.”

  “Take another lantern, Fillip.”

  Fillip either didn’t hear his wife or again pretended not to. He stepped back out the door with a wink to Mila.

  “Lovely,” said Emma, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. “The sight of a young girl, the cold night air… he’ll be all hands tonight.”

  Mila smiled. “Well, at least you have two beds.”

  “Not tonight. You take mine; I’ll sleep with Fillip. I wouldn’t mind a wandering hand or two tonight, besides. Who knows how much longer we’ve got, way the world is going.”

  Mila nodded. “I know what you mean. But I can leave tonight, Emma. It’s no trouble, I have magic to keep me warm.”

  Emma took a long measure of Mila before she spoke next.

  “It’s not that sort of warmth you need right now, dear. Stay. But just tonight.”

  Mila sighed. “All right. Just tonight.”

  The women stood and continued tidying up.

  “So, this dragon. You said it has a name? You mean, like it’s someone’s pet?”

  Mila thought for a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know. But it’s intelligent.”

  And terrible.

  “Well, if it’s chasing the woman who put down Sardine Cadaver, it might not be all that bright.”

  Mila said nothing.

  “So, magic, eh?”

  Mila nodded.

  “Show me.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Come on now, before Fillip comes back! Just something little. I find it so fascinating.”

  Mila smiled. “All right. Here.”

  Mila closed her eyes as she considered a spell. She gestured delicately towards the bucket of water, enchanting not only the bucket but also herself, just for a moment. It had been long since Mila took joy from such a small thing. Wisps of steam rose from the bucket.

  “There. Now we can wash the pot properly.”

  Emma’s jaw dropped. “That… wow. That was—”

  A distant roar sounded.

  ~Mmm... little witch. How delightful. I smell you again.~

  XII: THE TEMPLE OF KAL

  THE CUT NEVER CAME. Nia was certain her life was at an end. the Daughters would bring her bodily to the altar. The Mother would slice out her still-beating heart. Her last moments would be spent in terror and agony. She would die forgotten, buried in an unmarked grave, if buried at all.

  Clearly, the Daughters present in the altar room expected something similar. When the Mother stepped down from the dais, leaving the knife on the altar, their jaws dropped. Sharp glances were exchanged. Jealous, hate-filled scowls turned towards Nia.

  “Never mind them,” the Mother said softly, no doubt reading their expressions on Nia’s face. She turned around briefly. “They will do as they are told. Won’t you, my Daughters?”

  “Yes, Mother,” the six replied in chorus.

  “See? Pliant. Obedient. Mindless. Unlike you.”

  Nia blinked. The Mother placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her away from the altar. “Walk with me.”

  Nia moved to fall in line behind her superior, but the Mother took her arm like a sister.

  “I did not say ‘follow me’, Nia of the sea. I said ‘walk with me’. We are equals, are we not?”

  “I… I mean, I do not presume—”

  “It would be my presumption to assume otherwise. You have never taken the Oath, and therefore you are not in my service. You are no different from any other citizen of Tahr. Your own creature, with your own will.” The two rounded a corner. Nia could see the Mother was leading them to her personal chambers. “I would know your will. What drives Nia of the sea? What end does she seek? Please, go in.” The mother held out a hand, beckoning the girl to enter the room.

  Nia obeyed, trembling. She entered the small room, only twice the size of Nia’s own but far better appointed. Lush red carpet covered the floor from wall to wall. Fine cabinets and display cases lined the walls, each rumored to contain items of immeasurable power. A four-poster bed of stained cedar, this draped in velvet blankets atop mattresses that rose to Nia’s bosom, supported an ornate tester from which hung sheer black netting and thick, opaque woolen drapes. In the center of the room stood a darkly polished rectangular table with a carved wooden chair on each short side. In the center of the table sat another display case, small and unopened.

  “Sit,” the Mother commanded, the previous pretense of equality in her tone abandoned. Nia obeyed, taking the chair opposite the bed. The Mother sat opposite.

  “Well?”

  “Um, well what, Mother?”

  “What end do you seek, Nia? Speak up, now, lest I reconsider my assessment of you.”

  Nia cleared her throat and thought for a moment. She would need to choose her words carefully.

  “I can say more about what I do not seek, Mother. I—”

  A subtle frown creased the corners of the Mother’s eyes. “I already know what you do not seek.”

  Nia swallowed. “I suppose you do. Then, I will say this: I seek a better world.”

  The Mother arched a thin eyebrow. “A better world.”

  Nia nodded. “Yes. And I realize how naïve that must sound—”

  “Naïve? That’s quite the understatement. But go on.”

  Nia swallowed. “Very well. A world without poverty, without cruelty. A world where people are not born into servitude. Where they are free to make their own choices. Where—”

  “Let me stop you right there. What you want is impossible.”

  Nia felt her bravery returning. “Why? Why is it impossible?”

  “Because it is a dichotomy. The ultimate dichotomy, in fact. Freedom of choice is the singular cause of poverty and cruelty, Nia, or have you not yet learned as much? One man’s choice is another’s enslavement, as often as not. This has always been true.”

  “No, I mean, you’re right, and I do understand that. But that’s what I want to change. I want to make a world where such things are no longer allowed, where those who commit such evils are punished—”

  “You would put an end to all bargaining, then?”

  “No, of course not—”

  “Or do you propose supervising such bargains, perhaps regulating them?”

  “I am not referring to bargains, Mother. I am—”

  “Of course you are. How else does one obtain power over another? A woman needs food for her child. A working peasant needs a breast for his babe, its mother lost at birth. A bargain is struck. A peasant wishes to own his own plot. A landowner needs her fields plowed. A bargain is struck. That landowner wishes safe roads on which to travel. A soldier has a family to feed. A king wishes to fill his coffers. Taxes are levied. A bargain is struck.”

  “Yes. I understand. But not all bargains are fair. Nor honest. In fact, most—”

  “Most are anything but fair, Nia. On this we agree.”

  “So why not do something about it? Why not change things? As I s
aid, make a better world?”

  A sarcastic expression crossed the Mother’s face. “With our power.”

  Nia nodded eagerly, knowing she was being mocked.

  The Mother leaned forward. “Very well. Let us assume it can be done, never mind that such a thing would require changing the very nature of humanity. Who would lead such a revolution?”

  Nia responded without hesitation. “We would.”

  “We?”

  “Yes, we, the Daughters.”

  “And that is why you have come to the temple, Nia of the sea? So that you might one day convince the Mother to lead Tahr out of bondage?”

  “Well, no, I mean, I didn’t really have a plan, exactly—”

  “Of course you did. You sought power, did you not?”

  Nia thought for a moment. “Yes.”

  “How much power, Nia? Enough to persuade me to your cause? Or more?”

  Nia remained silent.

  “I asked you a question. More? Perhaps all?”

  Nia looked down.

  “No! Do not be ashamed! Look at me! That is why you have come, Nia! That is why you excelled at Kehrlia. That is why you killed your young lover, rather than allowing him to kill you. Do you think I do not know the truth of that day? You meddled in magic you could not yet control. It was a tragedy… but when all was said and done, you not only survived, but you turned the affair to your advantage. It is not murder that has drawn Kal’s gaze to you. It is your strength of will! Despite all you have endured, here you sit, before the Mother of the Temple, in a room among the most powerful artifacts ever created, possessing the will to defy even me.”

  Nia sat quietly, thinking. She is right. That is why I came to the Temple. For the power to do these things. The power to end suffering. The power to punish those who enslave, who treat human beings like chattel. The power to prevent such practices from ever existing again. For all the power.

  “You need not agree aloud, Nia. I see it on your face. You wish to become Mother one day. And more. And you shall.”

  Nia’s eyes widened.

  “But first, we must address a more immediate concern. The beast defeated the Master of Kehrlia. Most of the army has abandoned the city and gone south. Mor is leaderless.”

  The beast survived? Sartean is dead? “South? To the Sapphire?”

  The Mother nodded. “I cannot imagine the people of the sea will fare well when they arrive.”

  Mother. Father. Miano, Pito, Ethie, Lani…

  “They must be made to return,” said the Mother. “Order must be restored. The beast still threatens. Mor needs its army.”

  Nia nodded. “What can I do?”

  The Mother opened the display case. She withdrew two small rings, one silver, one gold, each set with a simple, mottled grey stone.

  “Are you ready to wield true power, Nia? To shape this better world you wish to create?”

  “I am, Mother.”

  “This is what you must do...”

  ~

  Nia walked briskly, more to combat the cold of near-dawn than to avoid being seen; she possessed plenty enough magic to handle any would-be robbers or other dangerous denizens of Mor. This is my chance, she thought. A chance to finally make a difference.

  It was good to be out of doors again, but better to be out of her usual temple garb. The Mother had assigned a Daughter to bring Nia a change of clothes—normal clothes; simple, comfortable, brushed leather boots, soft, grey leather leggings, an undershirt and tunic, and a fine grey woolen cloak. She could barely recall the last time she had worn clean garments, let alone comfortable ones. If nothing else, she thought, the Temple has taught me humility.

  The walk to the Grand Barracks was not a long one. Two sentries stood before the entrance to the courtyard.

  “State your business, ma’am.”

  “I am here to see the General. I bring a message from the Temple.”

  “The Temple? At this hour? Doubtful.” said one.

  “And you’re no Daughter,” said the other.

  “I am. I swear it.”

  “Dressed like that? No matter. Give us the message and we’ll deliver it.”

  The Mother had warned Nia not to use the silver ring until she was in Slater’s presence—its range of effect was small, and it would not last long. Better, she had said, to use her magic to get near him. The implication was clear: subdue or slay any who stand in the way. Nia shrugged and brought the ring from her pocket. She removed the stone and placed it in her mouth as the two sentries looked on, confused expressions on their faces. She bit into the stone.

  “What the… are you eating rocks, girl?”

  A sweet liquid oozed from the center of the stone. Nia swallowed.

  “I’ll need to pass, boys.”

  The two men looked at one another, then back to Nia. For a moment, she was certain the magic did not work, until the first sentry spoke again.

  “Right this way, ma’am. Can I walk you there?”

  “No, let me! Here, follow me ma’am—”

  “Shut your bread hole, Theel! I outrank you—”

  “Stop!”

  The sentries fell silent. Nia smiled.

  “Stand on one foot.”

  The sentries immediately lifted a leg.

  “Hop around.”

  The pair began hopping, the worst, most uncoordinated dance Nia had ever seen.

  “Give each other a little kiss.”

  The men hopped towards one another, arms outstretched.

  Nia laughed musically. “Ok, enough! You can stop now.” The men stood dumb.

  Nia looked at the ring. Well, how about that. “Let’s all go together. Come on now.”

  “Should we hop, ma’am?”

  “No, that’s all right. Just get us there quickly.”

  The men took off at a run. Nia shrugged and followed.

  A turn later, the three stood before the command table as dawn broke. Slater arrived just on time, as the Mother said he would, cup of tea in hand.

  “What’s this?” he asked, eyeing the three.

  Corporal Smit spoke first. “General, this lady—”

  “That’s fine, I’ll take it from here,” Nia said. The corporal fell silent. “General, I have been sent by the Mother of the Temple of Kal to enslave you with this.”

  Nia tossed the gold ring onto the table.

  Slater eyed the ring without discernible expression. He looked to his corporal. “Smit, what in Fury is going on here?”

  “Tell the General,” Nia commanded. “Start from when we met.”

  Smit and Theel fell all over one another to please Nia, describing how she had approached them, chewed up a rock from her ring, and how they both suddenly realized how perfect she was, how beautiful, sensual, inviting…

  “Skip to the part where I had you hopping around.”

  “I hopped real good, General! Better than Smit, at least!”

  “Yeah, but you never let me kiss you! You would have swooned, I swear it!”

  “No, you would have swooned! No way you kiss better than Jaysen Theel! Here, I’ll show you—”

  “That’s enough, boys,” said Nia. “Go back to your posts.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Smit and Theel turned on their heels.

  “Now wait one damned turn, I didn’t dismiss—”

  “They won’t listen, General. I’ve spelled them. They’re mad with love and will do anything I command. As you would have been, if I cracked my ring open in your presence.”

  “Fury I would have. What do you aim to do then, use this one to spell me the same way?”

  “No, General. The Mother wanted me to use the first to enchant you, so I could tell you to wear the second. If you put it on, she said, you would be a slave to my will for as long as you wore it.”

  Slater eyed the ring again, this time more warily.

  “Except I don’t think you would have been my slave. You would have been hers. She claims she wanted to send you south, to reunite the army, bu
t General, I think she might have commanded you to do far, far worse.”

  “Like what?”

  Nia shook her head. “She is a servant of Kal. Of death. As are all the Daughters. You’re a general. Not hard to figure the rest out.”

  “Sweet Lor. And you? Are you a Daughter?”

  Nia took a breath. “I was.”

  Slater nodded, holding Nia’s gaze. A long moment passed before he spoke again. “Why didn’t you obey her? Why are you telling me this?”

  Nia straightened. “Because I do not serve Kal.”

  ~

  “But how can you know?” the Daughter asked. “I mean, for sure?”

  “Exactly,” said another. “The girl is not one of us.”

  “She never has been,” said another. “There’s no telling what she—”

  “QUIET!” commanded the Mother. “I swear, you all bicker like hens, and you’re no brighter. She will never obey my command. Enslave another to her will? Nothing would appall her more. And she almost certainly sensed the truth… the ring would enchant Slater to me, not to her. No, she is no fool. She would not blindly believe what I told her.”

  The Daughters exchanged offended glances.

  “Besides, it does not matter what she does. If she obeys me, Slater is mine. If she defies me, he will wage war with us.” The Mother turned, leaving the altar room.

  “Either way, Kal will be served.”

  XIII: THE MAW

  Fang swallowed the Twins in billows of smoke and ash, bathing the Maw in shadow. The barest handful of faint, lonely stars dotted the sky here and there, only those bright enough to pierce the pall that had come to blanket Tahr these past cycles. Beneath this gloomy canopy, Nishali kept dark vigil, her brown, red-rimmed eyes focused on the horizon, waiting. When the last splinter of Twinlight surrendered to Fang’s hunger, the First Ranger of Thornwood gave the silent order.

  ~For our fallen. For Kade!~

  They descended on the dwarven encampment in three Tenths, Nishali leading the first into its center, the meager light of sporadic campfires guiding their approach. No light from above or behind would reveal their approach. They would not be seen. She and her rangers glided over the ice and snow, propelling themselves magically. Such a feat came at a cost, but no crunch of winter footfalls would betray their stealth. They would not be heard.