by Phil Tucker
“Beautiful?” asked Sisu. “They’re half scorpion. If I had a large enough boot, I’d step on them.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” said Acharsis, lowering himself to a crouch. “But we’re lacking giant boots. Jarek? Your thoughts?”
His friend rubbed pensively at his beard. “They look to stand six or seven yards high. Those spears will allow them to fight from some ten yards, I’d wager. Combine that with their tails, and there being two of them - I’d say our best bet would be to cut them down from a distance with arrows. Anything else is liable to be suicide.”
“Great,” said Acharsis. Neither of the sentinels moved. “Though nobody said we had to kill them. We simply have to pass them by into the valley beyond the gate.”
“Distract them?” asked Sisu. “Try to lure them away and slip past once they’re gone?”
“Possible,” said Acharsis. “But what if only one gives chase? And how fast do they move? None of us are going to outrun those long legs of theirs on this rough terrain.”
“We could climb above them,” said Kish, pointing high up the cliff face. “And then drop large rocks onto their heads.”
Acharsis pursed his lips and studied the cliff. It would be an arduous climb. Even as high as they were, the God’s Mountain still rose higher, perhaps another three or four hundred yards of glittering ice and stone. “I don’t see any boulders up there. Do you?”
Kish leaned forward, squinting, and then shook her head. “I guess not. Though with our hammers, perhaps we could knock some free?”
Acharsis waggled his head from side to side. “Possible. But that would ruin our chance of surprising them. They would then dodge anything we dropped on them from that height.”
“Climb past the gate,” said Sisu. “Skip it altogether. Up around them, then down into the valley.”
“Look how steep those walls are,” said Jarek. “We could perhaps climb up along that ridge there - perhaps - but then I don’t see any way down. Even if we were equipped with ropes and pitons, the gods fashioned that valley as a prison. I’m willing to bet any trick like that would fail.”
“Anscythia,” said Acharsis, turning back to the overhang. “Can you transport us into the valley directly?”
The demon stared mutely at him. Acharsis was about to repeat his question when she shook her head.
“Very well,” said Acharsis. “That leaves us but one choice. I shall approach them and ask to pass through the gates.”
“You think that’s wise?” asked Sisu. “You said yourself we don’t know how fast they move. What if they say no, and violently?”
Acharsis gave a shrug. “Then I die.”
“You say that like you wouldn’t mind,” said Sisu.
“I would mind.” Acharsis paused. Took a moment to examine what he was feeling. “But I’m feeling my age, Sisu. Or perhaps I’m just feeling worn down. I aim to do my best. But if that’s not enough, then I’m at peace with dying.”
He met Jarek’s gaze. His friend gave him a slight nod. If anyone here understood what it meant to see your father and god so reduced, it was him.
“Watch from here,” said Acharsis. “I’ll wave when it’s time to come down.”
“Suicidal and confident,” said Sisu. “An unusual combination.”
Acharsis flashed him a grin and began walking down the rough slope from their outcropping to the mountainside. There was no path leading up to the gates, so he had to clamber over boulders, slipping on the ice and using his one hand as best he could to steady himself. In moments his breath was puffing before him, hot in his throat, and the chill of the air was beaten back by his exertions.
The gates loomed high above him, seeming to reach into the very heavens. The twin scorpion guards oriented on him quickly but didn’t move to engage. Instead they watched him with pitiless indifference as he fought his way up the steep flank of the God’s Mountain, the thin air making him feel dizzy, forcing him to breathe in quick pants no matter how hard he tried to control his breath.
“This one who comes now is the flesh of the gods,” said the first scorpion guard when Acharsis drew within a score of yards.
“Only half of him is divine,” said the second, scrutinizing Acharsis with its crimson eyes. “Though his small companion is a spark of divinity itself.”
“Why have you come to the valley of Gog and Magog?” asked the first scorpion, still not lowering its spear or moving from its post. “Why have your journeyed through the layers of heaven to reach the peak of the God’s Mountain, a journey so perilous that no mere mortal has ever accomplished this feat?”
Acharsis stopped climbing and stood straight, swaying with dizziness, his good hand numb from having been plunged over and over again into the snow. “I am Acharsis, son of Ekillos, the god of knowledge and male fertility. Twenty years ago my brothers and sisters and I were betrayed, and our gods killed and cast down into the depths of the netherworld. There they languish, forgotten and reduced. In their place Nekuul rules supreme, and the land suffers for it. The people starve. The dead outnumber the living. I have wept for my people. I have decided my life is worth nothing if I cannot save them. So I have come to visit the Garden of Paradise and ask for an apple in the hopes of defeating Nekuul’s daughter and righting the balance of the world.”
The scorpion guards looked at each other, their faces expressionless, then the second spoke. “No mortal has ever climbed this high or risked such perils as lie on the slopes of the God’s Mountain. No mortal has ever crossed through the valley of Gog and Magog, and entered the Garden of Paradise. The way is more dangerous than your climb, for the darkness of the world is contained behind these gates, a darkness that oppresses the heart and ends your memory of the light.”
“I’m no mere mortal,” said Acharsis with a sigh. He sat on a flat wedge of rock. It immediately numbed his rear. “I’m Acharsis. Once a demigod filled with might, but even now I’m half divine. I would risk this darkness. I would go through the gates in the hopes of reaching the garden, along with my other friends who are similarly divine. Open the gates. Let us through.”
He put no heat into his words. He felt spent. The slope on which he sat was so steep that if he were to topple, he would roll down and down without end. Dizziness still assailed him, and he knew that if the scorpions sought to kill him he would put up no resistance.
“Go, Acharsis,” said the first scorpion guard. “I permit you to pass through the gates of Gog and Magog and into the darkness of the valley beyond. May your feet carry you to your destination and from there safely home. The gate to the valley is open.”
With that, the twin doors of bronze and gold parted, sending sleeves of ice falling from their faces as they swung open, shoving mounds of snow before their edges without effort. Acharsis forced himself to rise, and peered beyond, but could see only shifting shadow.
From the outcropping above he heard a whoop of celebration, and despite himself he smiled tiredly.
“Thank you,” was all he said, and he bowed low to the two guards who had stood vigil for longer than he could conceive. “Thank you.”
His friends came hurrying up the mountain, Jarek forging a path through the snow and hauling Kish after him with one hand, Sisu scrambling in their wake, falling over time and again in his eagerness to keep up. Anscythia followed behind, drifting over the broken snow without effort, leaving no trail of her own.
“Halt,” said the scorpion guards as one, and this time they lowered their spears so that they crossed before the open gates. “A demon travels with you.”
“Yes,” said Acharsis, heart sinking. “She is our guide. Her name is Anscythia. She will lead us through the valley to the gates of paradise.”
“Our solemn duty is to prevent all demons from escaping the valley,” said the second guard. “Since time began, few have evaded our vigil. She must enter the valley, and then we shall not permit her to leave.”
Acharsis looked back at the demon. She was glaring up at the scorpi
on guards defiantly, a vision of feminine beauty and strength. Ah, Scythia, thought Acharsis. There truly was no greater exemplar of beauty than yourself. Even Numias couldn’t touch your divine perfection.
“Very well,” said Acharsis.
Anscythia hissed, the sound akin to dozens of snakes roused to anger, and leaped up into the air. Acharsis immediately guessed her intent, and on instinct reached out blindly to wrap his arm around the invisible black cord that joined them both. The epiphling took flight, swooping around the demon as if binding her with invisible cords of its own.
“Stay!” he roared, swaying beside his rock. His hand closed over a rushing, flowing stream of icy cold air. “By our pact and Ekillos himself, I order you to stay!”
Anscythia screeched and darted away, only to be yanked back, nearly tumbling from the sky. Again she gathered herself and surged forward, but this time Jarek was by Acharsis’ side, hands steadying his shoulders, and Acharsis hauled on the invisible tether.
“Half my life you’ve haunted me,” he growled. “Dogged my steps and mocked my dreams. I’ve lived in terror of you appearing to ruin my life. Hated your idiotic grin, your rolling eyes! Enough! You are no longer your own master! Your mockery of a pact is now true! I order you to come back here, you spawn of Scythia, and serve me!”
Anscythia shrieked and flailed, but to no avail. In jerks and retreats she fell back to the ground, the fiery sparrow still circling her, until at last she crashed down onto the snow. There was a hiss, and the snow melted around her in a rapidly expanding circle, exposing the bleak rock beneath her feet.
“Mine,” hissed Acharsis. “My folly, my punishment, but mine. You will lead us through the valley. You will see us to the gates of paradise, and after our great task is accomplished, I shall set you free.”
Anscythia lowered her head so that her mane of black hair hung before her face, but it did nothing to hide the hatred that burned in her eyes.
Carefully, tentatively, Acharsis released his grip on their bond and stood straight. “Now, come. You will precede us into this dread valley.”
Anscythia rose to her feet and gave him a mocking bow, her balance perfect on the wet rocks, and then lifted off the snow to float up toward them. Her hair streamed like wildfire from her head, and her tunic plastered itself against her feminine curves, leaving nothing to the imagination. She smiled as she passed him by, a mocking, cruel smile that robbed Acharsis of his newfound certainty and confidence.
Then she was past them, floating between the rising spears and disappearing through the gate into the valley of Gog and Magog.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jarek hefted his Sky Hammer and glanced uneasily at each of the scorpion guards. The very sight of them gave him chills. What perfect war machines. With their reach, obvious strength, and chitinous armor, they would be nearly unstoppable in battle -not to mention their stingers, each of which was the size of a basket and terminated in a wickedly curved point that gleamed wetly even in this terrible cold. No. Fighting their way past them was never an option.
Even so, the idea of walking through the opened gate without contest gave him no comfort. He turned to Kish. “Ready?”
“No,” she said, tone as blunt as the hammer in her hand. “How could I be? We’ve no plan, no strategy even, other than counting on our semi-divine natures to get us through. I’m far from ready.”
“She’s got a point,” said Jarek, looking over Acharsis. “We’re running just ahead of disaster here. What’s the plan?”
“Faith,” said Acharsis simply. “Laugh all you want. But for too long I’ve lived as a mortal man, thinking as one and just as afraid. These past few days have reminded me that we’re so much more. That we each carry within our souls a spark of the divine—”
“Acharsis,” cut in Jarek.
“Fine, fine. Still. I mean it. I’ve always been in favor of detailed plans. But in this realm? Dealing with these beings? We’re out of our depth, old friend.” Acharsis sounded almost sorrowful. “We have to trust in our instincts. Have faith in our natures. In the righteousness of our cause. Where we’re about to tread, no plan will avail us so much as confidence, boldness, and determination to win through.”
Sisu scratched at his chin. “You think he really means that, or is he just trying to raise our morale?”
“I mean it,” said Acharsis. “Look where we are. The peak of the God’s Mountain, for crying out loud. Nobody has come this far since - never mind. The fact that we stand here at all - that we crossed the netherworld and survived, that the gates of Gog and Magog stand open to us at all - that’s all the testament I need to have faith in our cause and blood. I’m going in.”
And so saying, Acharsis strode in after the demon, the fire chickadee on his shoulder, and was lost in the shadow.
“Jarek?” Kish rolled her shoulders then twisted from side to side, loosening up her spine. “You ready?”
Jarek stared at the face of his Sky Hammer. Its powers were quiet, its depths as dead as any rock, but he recalled how it had blazed in the netherworld. Would it serve him as well here? Or had its proximity to Alok been the defining factor?
He heaved a sigh and felt his age. The sweetness of youth had served only to emphasize how much vitality and energy he’d lost. Almost he wished he’d never thought himself younger - but that would have meant missing that smoldering glow in Kish’s eyes.
“Ready,” he said. “Sisu?”
“I’m going to go with what Kish said before. Which is ‘no’. But since I don’t want to be left out here to freeze with these scorpion monsters - sure.” He hugged himself tightly. “Let’s see how far Acharsis’ trust gets us through a valley filled with demons.”
Jarek gave a curt nod and stepped through the tall gates. Shadows swirled before his eyes, masking the world, and then they cleared away and he stood at the foot of a long, golden valley with incredibly steep sides.
“Is that real gold?” Kish stepped up beside him, eyes wide. “It can’t be.”
Every surface of the valley was covered in perfect, lustrous gold. The cliffs that reared around them. The boulders. The gullies and ravines. The valley of Gog and Magog was plated in solid gold, such that it was hard for the eye to make out distances, to determine the exact shape and extent of the valley.
“Amazing,” said Sisu, kneeling to run his hand over the gilded ground. “And it’s not cold, either.”
Jarek turned to ask the scorpion guards, but the gate had closed behind them, and no handles or means of pushing them open displayed themselves. He shivered. Were they trapped here?
“Where are the demons?” asked Kish.
Jarek turned back. She was right. The valley looked empty but for Acharsis and Anscythia up ahead. Nowhere did he see drifting shadows or horrific shapes. “I don’t know.”
“Wait,” said Sisu. “Wait, wait, wait. The valley of Gog and Magog is empty? Is that meant to be a metaphor, or…?”
“Come on,” said Jarek. “Let’s see what Acharsis thinks.” He strode forward, stepping carefully on the smooth golden floor, and soon caught up with Acharsis. “What’s going on here?”
“I don’t know,” said Acharsis. It was the closest Jarek had come to hearing his friend sound bewildered. “My best guess is that all the demons have escaped to the world below.”
“Yours did,” said Sisu.
“Not quite. There’s a very strong chance I might have tried to summon it in the folly of my youth.” Acharsis regarded Anscythia, who was gazing at the golden valley with a subdued expression on her perilously beautiful face.
“Then perhaps all the other demons were also summoned,” said Sisu.
“Unlikely. The ritual I used was incredibly difficult and esoteric. Few but the son of Ekillos could have cast it, and even I got it wrong.”
“Then where are they?” Kish stepped closer to Jarek, and for a moment he wanted to wrap his arm protectively around her.
“Anscythia?” Acharsis stared at his demon. “Where
are the others?”
She regarded him with her depthless eyes and made no response.
“Anscythia? I command you to tell me where the other demons have gone. There were supposed to be hundreds here. Thousands.”
Still she made no response.
Acharsis reached out with his lone hand and wrapped his arm around what appeared to be an invisible rope between them. “Don’t make me force you.”
She made a sour expression. “When you summoned me forth with your juvenile incantation, this valley was replete with my kind. I have not returned since.”
Her voice was a shadowy purr, a smoky, languorous sound that filled Jarek with a heated, anxious, guilty desire. He squared his shoulders. “Looks like she can talk.”
“So they’ve fled within the last twenty years?” Acharsis looked around uneasily once more. “That’s… worrisome.”
“There have always been demons amongst us,” said Kish. “Haven’t there? Hence our amulets, our wards, the protective spells from the apsus…?”
“Yes,” said Acharsis, “but those are demons born of human folly and madness. These - these are the demons of the gods. A very different matter.”
Sisu laughed. “Wait. Why are we complaining? Did anybody here actually want to fight their way through a thousand demons to get to the gates of paradise?” He looked from one of them to the other. “Seriously? This is our first lucky break since we set out for Magan. No, since you all showed up in my throne room in Rekkidu. We should be thanking Nekuul for such fortune.”
“True enough,” said Jarek. “But a thousand god-demons gone missing is no minor matter. We’ll have to ask our fathers about this when we revive them. Or, if we fail, demand that Irella ask Nekuul.”
“Fine, fine,” said Sisu. “But until then, we can literally dance our way up a valley of gold to the doors of paradise. Who’s coming with me?”