The Valley of the Gods

by Phil Tucker

  “You did it!” Kish’s smile was a vibrant flash of white in the dusky gloom. She embraced him, squeezing him hard, then stepped back.

  Sisu hugged himself. “This means we can get out of here, right?”

  “Yes,” said Acharsis. He thought for the briefest of moments to tell them of how he acquired the apple, but decided to keep his memory of Sumala and their time together private. “There’s something else.” He drew forth the second apple.

  “A snack?” asked Sisu.

  Jarek was quicker on the uptake. “You stole it?”

  “No,” said Acharsis, feeling wistful, melancholic. “It was given to me. Though to what end…?”

  “Does it - would it make someone - a normal someone - a godsblood?” asked Kish.

  And Acharsis thought immediately of Annara. Of giving her the apple, so that she could be his equal in all things, so that they could rule together, neither stronger nor lesser. A pang of guilt; was he trying to atone for the method in which he’d acquired it?

  “Looks like we’ve gained a wild card,” said Acharsis. He slipped the apple back into his shirt. “But for now, let’s focus on getting out of here.”

  They found the exit to the garden with surprising ease; they’d been standing but a dozen yards from it. The others explained how they’d searched for him and then the gate in turn with only increasing levels of frustration; Jarek laughed to learn it had been so close all along.

  Anscythia presented herself once they stepped through the gate. Her dark eyes were slitted with suspicion, but her expression was one of neutral reserve.

  “There you are,” said Acharsis, relieved more than he could say. “We’re done here. Please take us to Uros.”

  To Acharsis’ surprise, the demon didn’t spit or hiss or claw at itself; instead, it eyed him warily and then simply inclined its head.

  “I can’t believe it,” said Jarek. “I think you’re growing on her. And I thought she’d not be able to leave the Valley?”

  At this, the demon slashed at Jarek, who danced backward, fumbling for his Sky Hammer, only to draw it and see that the demon had retreated and bowed her head demurely.

  Sisu laughed. “Looks like she doesn’t like you much, yet.”

  Jarek grumbled and slipped his hammer back in its sheath. “Fine with me.”

  Acharsis rubbed at his jawline. “I bet she can leave the same way the others did. I think the scorpion guards have to reassess their purposes.”

  Anscythia bowed, ever mocking, and then the air was filled with roaring and Acharsis felt his body shake as a dark thunderbolt took them all up into the void. Acharsis could dimly sense the others by his side, pale shapes in the roiling dark.

  They seemed to arc across the sky, everything distorted as if seen through muddied water, and then with a howling rush fell upon the earth like a meteor, to come crashing down and stop with bone-jarring abruptness in an alleyway.

  Acharsis staggered and reached out to a mud-brick wall to steady himself. It was night, the full moon painting the square buildings about them in vivid silver and causing the shadows to appear all the more impenetrable by contrast. The smell of civilization was welcome after their time in the realms of the gods: someone had pissed in this alleyway not too long ago, and beyond that pungent stink Acharsis could smell cooking meat, wood smoke, and hear the subtle sounds of a city at night.

  “We here?” asked Jarek, his voice a low growl. “Uros?”

  “Irella’s own city,” said Acharsis, choosing to believe the demon hadn’t played them foul. “The one place I swore I’d never return to.”

  “Home,” said Sisu bleakly. “I left here smuggled in the depths of a wagon filled with carpets. I thought when I returned it would be at the head of an army of my own conquering dead.”

  “You really don’t like your mother, huh?” asked Acharsis, turning to watch the slender Nekuulite.

  “Not really, no.” Sisu ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not personal, though. She was never much of a ‘mother’ to me. Always remote, ruling the world, praying to Nekuul. I felt closer to my servants and nanny than I ever did her.”

  Kish reached out and gave Sisu a one-armed hug around the shoulders, and Acharsis saw him stiffen in surprise and then relax.

  “Well, now what?” asked Jarek. “We going to march our way into her ziggurat and drop the apple in her lap?”

  “And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am entrusted with all the planning,” said Acharsis, bowing low. “No, Jarek. That’s not the plan. Instead, we’re going to do what I always do upon arriving in a new and potentially hostile town—”

  “Find beer,” said Kish.

  “Precisely,” said Acharsis with a smile. “The cool blessings of Siros, the goddess of beer, must be sought after before any perilous venture.”

  “It’s halfway through the night,” said Jarek. “All the taverns will be closed.”

  “Oh, Jarek,” said Acharsis with fond affection. “You’ve clearly gone feral. Let’s head down to the docks. While the good citizens of Uros might be abed, resting before another day of back-breaking labor beneath the punishing sun, the sailors will have no such compunctions against late-night revelry. Come on. The sooner we sit around a table, the sooner I can amaze your minds with my subtle and astonishing plan.”

  He hesitated. Which way, exactly?

  The epiphling leaped from his shoulder and flew to the end of the alley, alighting on a clothesline to glance back at them.

  “See?” Acharsis grinned. “Of course he knows where to get a drink at this hour. C’mon.”

  He marched out of the alleyway before they could laugh at him, peering both ways down the empty street before stepping out and heading left. A plan. A means to get Irella to eat a rotten apple. Why couldn’t it have been roasted suckling pig that would deprive her of her powers? But no.

  It had been decades since Acharsis last visited Uros, but little had changed. Little could change. The city was shaped like a triangle and wedged into the confluence of the great Leonis and the icy Patar that flowed down from the Aloros mountains to the east. The riverbanks constrained growth and meant that striking out in any random direction had a two in three chance of bringing you to a river you could then follow to the docks.

  A plan. Acharsis bit his lower lip, deep in thought. Damn but it was hard to connive with a dry throat.

  A patrol stepped into view up ahead, immediately obvious for its regimented lines and the spears propped on shoulders. Fifteen, no, about twenty individuals. Acharsis resisted the urge to freeze and instead moved to the far side of the street, averting his eyes, hunching his back and rounding his shoulders so as to make himself look as unthreatening as possible.

  They were dead, he realized, the brightness of the moon making their nature obvious. Even a quick glance was enough to make out the desiccated skin stretched taut over their skulls, their eyes little more than hollow pits, muscle and flesh wasted away to leave them gangly and emaciated.

  His glance lingered for too long, however, and he made eye contact with a robed figure walking at their rear. A single flash of an ornate bone mask and pitch-filled eye sockets and then Acharsis tore his gaze away, cursing his lack of discretion.

  A deathless. Had it marked him? Though its eyes were covered, Acharsis knew it had spotted him. Would it stop?

  No. The patrol passed him by, the sound of bare feet receding and then fading away altogether.

  Acharsis turned to gaze after them, heart pounding in his chest. His friends stood only a few yards behind, Sisu still murmuring a spell of some sort, his hand glowing the faintest green.

  “I’d almost forgotten about those guys,” said Acharsis, voice weak with relief. “What a wonderful world it was that I inhabited there for a few days without any thought of the deathless.”

  “It almost saw you,” said Sisu, voice curt. “I managed to shield us just in time.”

  “Worth your weight in goats made of gold,” said Acharsis, giving the y
oung Nekuulite a grin. “I think it’s high time we invited you to join our group. What do you say, young man? You seem full of promise. Want in?”

  Sisu snorted. “Hardly. What I want is - well, it’s a long list, and begins with items such as power, respect, and—”

  “Great! You’re in.” Acharsis watched as the patrol turned a distant corner and disappeared.

  “That was a large patrol,” said Kish. “You think Irella is expecting trouble?”

  “After what happened in Rekkidu?” Jarek rubbed at his jaw. “I’d imagine she’s going to be extremely careful that nothing disrupts her ritual.”

  “She’s doomed for disappointment,” said Acharsis. “Sisu, why don’t you walk up front so you can shield us from any other nosy deathless types we run across? I’ll guide you by throwing rocks at whichever shoulder in whose direction I want you to turn.”

  Sisu leveled a flat stare at him until Acharsis raised his hand in protestation. “No rocks? Very well. Whispers, then. But let us be quick. The sooner we’re safe inside a tavern, the better.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Their table was perfect. Crammed into a dark nook, there was barely room for the four of them around its ragged surface.They sat hunched over their clay cups of beer, filter straws gleaming in the rushlights, removed from the sparse crowd that lingered still in the main room but able to keep an eye on the front door.

  That, and the beer was delicious. “A fine brew,” Acharsis said to the youth who served them. “Worthy of the mighty city of Uros. My thanks, young master.”

  The boy gave him a wink. “Wasn’t me that brewed it, but I’ll take the compliment nonetheless. Nekuul’s blessings upon you.”

  “Nekuul’s blessings,” grumbled Jarek, taking a sip through his straw. “I’ll save those for my dying breath.”

  The epiphling fluttered down to land on his mug’s rim, and dipped its beak into the brew, quaffing a fair amount before peering cheekily up at him.

  “Now,” said Kish. “We are seated. We each have a beer before us. Dawn is but a few hours away. Will you share your plan, oh great and esteemed Acharsis?”

  “She’s got cheek, this one,” said Acharsis to Jarek. “I advise you to be careful.” Then he reared back with a laugh as Kish rose to pretend to buffet him around the head. “Fine! Fine. A plan. Lean in close, children, and Uncle Acharsis will weave you a tale of enchantment and wonder.”

  Sisu just snorted.

  Acharsis couldn’t help but grin. The old excitement was starting up within his heart, that delightful feeling of starting upon a venture with no guarantee of success. “Jaded by his childhood, don’t mind him. Now. The plan. Its strength lies in its simplicity—”

  “Translation,” said Kish. “I don’t have much of a plan.”

  “My dear, if you do not wish me to speak, I am more than content to sit back and sip my beer. No? Very well, then. So. I can think of no earthly way to convince Irella to consume this rather moldy-looking apple.”

  Jarek shook his head. “Not falling for it. Keep going.”

  “Which is why we must subsume its essence into a finer dish. Feasting is compulsory when you have a big ritual like this. You just can’t avoid having a big celebration. Everyone expects to be fed and given copious amounts of wine as a signal of your power and generosity. Irella will throw a big banquet, and we’ll find a way to sneak the apple into her personal dish.”

  Acharsis slammed his hand down on the table and sat back, arms extended as he waited for everyone to shout with glee and delight.

  “Put the apple in her food?” Sisu sounded dubious. “That’s your plan? You do know that everything she eats is tasted first by her own personal bodyguard?”

  “Apples aren’t poisonous,” said Acharsis. “He should show no ill effects.”

  Sisu continued. “And that her dishes are cooked exclusively for her by a dedicated team of cooks in a private kitchen?”

  Acharsis fought to keep his carefree smile. “Infiltration!”

  Sisu sat back. “And how do you know she’ll feast before she gives her blood? This will only work if she eats the apple first.”

  “Well,” said Acharsis, trying not to get annoyed, “It goes without saying that part of the spectacle of a ritual is to bleed into a vessel, right, to prove to everyone watching that it’s your blood that’s being used?”

  “My mother’s not worried about what others think,” said Sisu.

  Jarek grunted. “And it could be argued that bleeding before the masses might give them the wrong idea. Make them think you could bleed a whole lot more if they worked up the nerve to stick something sharp and pointy into your body.”

  “All right, all right, so we have to do a little reconnaissance first.” Acharsis took a grouchy sip of his beer. “It should really go without saying. We need to learn how the ritual’s going to go, what time, and then figure out a plan to infiltrate her ziggurat.”

  Sisu gave a snort. “This is the weakest plan I’ve ever heard. Basically, your plan is to come up with a plan.”

  “Have I failed you yet?” Acharsis grinned at the Nekuulite. “Did we not save Elu from Akkodaisis?”

  “I remember that plan going horribly wrong,” said Kish.

  “Did I not set Elu up as pharaoh of all of Magan?”

  “Only after he got accidentally arrested,” said Jarek. “You didn’t plan for that.”

  “I think on my feet! I am nimble, like a cat slinking through a pack of dull-witted dogs! I turn, I twist, I contort when least expected! The best plans are those that come through divine inspiration, though admittedly it’s more relaxing when that inspiration comes sooner rather than later. Once we have more information, we can truly figure out how best to infiltrate this private kitchen, mix the apple into Irella’s food, and ensure the blood that’s poured into the crystal receptacles is wholly devoid of all divine properties, ensuring a resounding failure on her part.”

  “That’s not enough,” said Jarek, staring down into his beer. “We need to depose her. And since she won’t step down willingly, that means killing her.”

  “Which,” said Acharsis, holding up his finger, “will be a sight easier once she’s lost her divine powers.”

  Jarek gave another grunt but remained quiet.

  “Fine,” said Acharsis, draining his beer. “Sisu, this is your home town. You grew up in the ziggurat, didn’t you? Running up and down its halls chasing a ball? What can you tell us about it?”

  Sisu treated Acharsis to his most withering stare. “The ziggurat of Uros puts Rekkidu’s to shame. It’s almost twice as large, and sits atop a massive charnel pit wherein the dead of Uros are collected for mass reanimation. Its hallways are patrolled by hundreds of the deathless, because that’s also where they’re created, along with other, more terrifying creations that aren’t allowed outside for fear of panicking the people.”

  “Security,” said Acharsis, stabbing the table with his finger. “What can we expect?”

  “All undead will immediately attempt to capture anyone caught inside the ziggurat without an amulet of Nekuul.” Sisu sat back, drumming his fingers on the table’s edge. “For this infiltration to work, we’ll each need one. What’s more, each successive floor requires a more powerful amulet; access to the ground floor doesn’t guarantee you access to the higher levels, and the power signatures of these amulets are closely guarded secrets.”

  Acharsis exchanged a glance with Jarek and nodded. “Go on.”

  “All entrances to the ziggurat compound are guarded by Death Watch guards, while entrances to the ziggurat itself are guarded by the deathless. Nobody is allowed to take bags, sacks, or weaponry inside without permits or the right kind of amulet.”

  “I’m getting the impression that these amulets are pretty important,” said Acharsis.

  “Nekuul’s Seekers are also based in the ziggurat. There should be, oh, easily a hundred or so of them inside, ranging from the novices to the Face of Nekuul herself.”

  “
Face of Nekuul?” asked Kish, raising an eyebrow.

  “The leader of the Seekers,” said Sisu with obvious relish. It was as if he were enjoying revealing just how hard this was going to be. “A godsblood of Nekuul like myself. My mother’s cousin, Farasu. They all wield magical power through Nekuul’s blessings.”

  “Good memories,” said Acharsis. “I remember the Seekers with great fondness from Rekkidu. Right, Jarek?”

  Jarek ignored him.

  “What else? Oh! Right. Of course. Literal floating eyeballs that patrol the ziggurat. The particularly devout volunteer to have theirs plucked from their heads and then animated so that they can unobtrusively observe everything from where they sit in the depths of the ziggurat.”

  “What is wrong with you Nekuulites?” asked Kish. “Seriously? Floating eyeballs? Why can’t they just volunteer to walk around with their eyes in their heads?”

  Sisu shrugged. “They’re really, really hard to spot. That, and the spell also allows them to hear what’s said in their vicinity. It makes for perfect surveillance.”

  Acharsis frowned. “Shouldn’t they also have ears stuck to the eyes, then?”

  “No,” said Sisu coldly.

  “But how can eyes listen to—”

  “No,” said Sisu once more. “Trust me.”

  Acharsis gave a sulky shrug. “Seems like cheating to me. But all right. So, we’ve got deathless, floating eyes, a hundred or more Seekers, amulets keyed to each level, Death Watch guards, and dead creations that are so terrifying they can’t be seen in public.”

  “About those,” said Jarek, leaning forward on both elbows. “Details?”

  “There are numerous small ritual chambers scattered underground where Seekers and leeches experiment and attempt to raise new forms of the dead. Most are deemed failures and destroyed, but those that are inspiring or particularly successful are either kept in cages or allowed to roam the hallways.”

  Kish made a face. “This all explains so much about you.”

  “Give me examples,” said Jarek.

  “Well. Let’s see.” Sisu blew out his cheeks. “There’s the rug of limbs and teeth which moves along the walls and ceiling and can devour anything it falls upon. The head crickets - that’s what I called them, anyway - which are heads mounted on a half-dozen hands at the wrist, which can leap a good dozen yards by flexing their fingers and take bites out of you with their enlarged jaws. The huggie daddies—”