Anguished at such losses, Eleutheria redoubled her efforts. She fought against the possessed armies of Cepheus, who controlled them through the power of his magic. Like all the Overlords he was thralled, and his power controlled an army of thralled ten thousand strong and double that of Medusi. They fought as one great organism, shifting and moving whenever Eleutheria’s forces opened a gap. When she saw the Islands rise up and take her son to his death, she roared, carving through the throng to where Cepheus himself commanded his forces. She climbed the walls where no thrall could see her. When she reached the chamber where he fought from, before he could react, she sliced away his Medusi, cutting off his power, and burned the creature in front of him. His army, fighting across the miles of grassland around them, dropped to the ground like marionettes with their strings cut.
She fought as a woman possessed to kill Cepheus, who was an accomplished swordsman. They clashed with their great swords, alone in that chamber high above the battlegrounds. Eventually she struck the blow that toppled him, and she knew that Velella’s prophecy would come true. She had been ready to give her life, and only then had she prevailed.
She signalled a great retreat of her sorely depleted armies, sending them back to Theris to regroup and heal.
Come the end of the war, the Thorn was nowhere to be found. It is said that he succumbed to the fighting with Odimus, the cannibal Leech. Other accounts say he walked away from the fighting and became a wandering nomad for many years, always taking care not to encounter Eleutheria’s forces.
Over the next decade, Eleutheria watched as the Overlords tore themselves apart. This was the true War of the Overlords, as each vied for domination of the power vacuum left by the death of Cepheus. Minakun was killed by Odimus, Odimus by Rynati, and Ulimun and Kifurian killed each other at the same moment. Eventually only Heikriss was left. The final battle occurred on the northern tip of Arceth, as Heikriss’ army was destroyed by the reserves of Eleutheria’s forces. Her lover Clariatus fell during the battle but not before he had made Heikriss strike himself down with lightning. Both fell and the Overlords were no more.
Our story finishes with the mystery of Eleutheria’s fate. She had lost both her sons, she had lost both her great loves, her harem was gone like leaves in the wind.
Her city was all that remained, her true legacy. Eleutheria had done all she had intended since she first rose up against the tyranny of the Overlords. She had defeated them. She had prevailed, and the world was a safer place because of it.
She was an old woman now and not the type to grow old and die in luxury. She realised her days of hedonism had not been her true self. The days of battle and war had been the ones she would never regret. She took a horse and rode out from Theris, never to be seen again, seeking another battle, another war, one that could finally claim her warlord’s spirit.
*
When Naus finished, a perfect hush had settled over the tavern.
He knew now that this romanticised version of the legend could not be the whole truth. He knew he had walked away from the War of the Overlords and left his Empress to die. He knew the power of the Overlords still existed, possibly even the Overlords themselves or some of them. In the real version, she must have lost the war somehow. Otherwise why would Totelun need to destroy the Overlords still.
Velella’s other prophecy made this story false in some respect. He hoped he would find the true ending one day.
The patrons slowly began to applaud, sporadically and without much conviction. Naus didn’t mind; the bartender had left him a large mug of ale – bartender speak for thanks – and he drank a long draft to quench his parched throat.
Mostly he was just glad they had forgotten what they had been angry about. He set down the mug and remembered the shadowy figures that had entered the bar as he began. They had waited and listened politely, not like the rude Cleric in Theris.
Crescen brought them over to speak to him at the deserted bar after most of the patrons had moved on or left.
‘That was a wonderful rendition of the War of the Overlords,’ said the first Cleric. He was middle-aged, jovial and pleasant, and had a tuft of whiskers under a nose that held up a pair of eyeglasses. ‘I haven’t heard it told with such authenticity before. Like you really believed it.’
‘Eleutheria really existed,’ Naus said carefully. ‘I’m sure of it. The stories are full of human truth. And she was both a hero and a ruthless warlord. That’s what makes me believe in her.’
The second man nodded. ‘Crescen here tells us you are a renowned bard and well-travelled.’ He was younger, wiry and intelligent, and held himself with a bearing of one accustomed to being heeded.
‘I tell stories to make a living, but I’m just a harmless nomad.’
‘And the blade?’ He indicated the end of the scabbard just peeking from below Naus’ robes.
‘Any man is allowed to defend himself, is he not?’
‘I hear Crescen was about to be attacked before you intervened, calming the crowd with your story.’
Naus nodded. ‘It was nothing.’
‘He travelled with me and saved my life more than once,’ added Crescen. Naus hadn’t seen the eager, earnest Crescen so far, but it was endearing.
‘We must thank you properly,’ said the first Cleric. ‘My name is Meeroth. I am the head librarian at the Temple of the Medousa. This is Sharow, one of my acolytes. Please, you must be looking for room and board? Payment possibly for your services to our young Cephean here?’
‘I didn’t presume that any-’
‘No presumption necessary.’ Naus was verging on putting this jovial librarian in at the top as the nicest Cleric he had ever met. ‘Please join us. We will take you back to the Temple, show you around. We have plenty of free beds at the moment. Much of our number are in Theris. You won’t find a better offer here. Medaquen isn’t what it used to be. Besides, I would really like to hear any more stories you know about the Overlords.’
Naus couldn’t believe his luck. Hundreds of years of waiting, of trying to get into the Temple, of being physically thrown out on more than one occasion. He had got inside only once, and that was only to be told he wasn’t acolyte material. And here was a kind-hearted librarian offering him a soft bed and a guided tour. I’d be a fool to refuse.
Of course, it could also be a ruse to get him inside the temple where they could kill him without any witnesses. These might be Crescen’s handler’s, certain now that he was the one who had killed the Clerics in Theris and ready to exact retribution.
It was just too good an opportunity to pass up.
‘I’d be honoured.’ Naus nodded and followed Crescen and the Clerics out of the tavern and along the dusty road behind the town that led into the burnt hills.
The answers lay ahead, he could feel it. Maybe even to the parts of that story that felt wrong.
Chapter Twenty Five
Anthrom
Anthrom felt more than heard the jangling thud as the doors of the palace closed, cutting him off from the safety and security he’d known for fourteen years. He’d never been out in the city on his own before; once Harling left him he was meant to complete this task alone.
The High Cleric stood beside him for the moment. Returned from his assignment in Argentor just that night, Harling breathed the Theris air in deeply and then strode off without waiting to see if Anthrom was with him. He had to run to catch up.
The city was not as he recalled it from the half dozen excursions his father had taken him on. For one, he wasn’t riding in a plush palanquin with bearers and an entourage of maids and servants and soldiers; he was on foot, dressed in the drab brown smock of a peasant and with no one to defend him from a stray knife or loose fist.
Prove to me you can do this on your own. Noctiluca’s words drifted through his mind, though he was far enough from her influence now to feel a small amount of freedom. Her touch on his thoughts was like a vice now softly releasing.
Theris had changed. Beyond the p
alace grounds the streets became a mire; there was a light fog low to the ground and a chill in the air. The cobbles were filthy with black grime and the built-up muck of weeks without maintenance. There were houses with peeling claws of paint curling away from the walls, wood that was warped to the point where it bent from its structure and ruptured joints, exposed nails. The streets of the rich quarter were littered with blackened mattresses, stained carpeting and spoilt cushions. Mould grew everywhere.
He’d read this was the result of the concentration of Medusi in a confined area. Some kind of effect on the areas they congregated, like the two were not compatible.
There was little food to be had that wasn’t spoiled. Anthrom and Harling walked through a market near the palace district that was mostly abandoned; stalls that had been destroyed in the deciding battle of the siege lay strewn about, their meagre produce now rotten and attracting vermin.
In the corners, bodies still lay.
No one is maintaining the city, he thought. Does no one even care to clear up the bodies? He saw one that had a frail poor excuse for a Medusi attached to it. Was it possible that person wasn’t dead?
‘Are you ready?’ said Harling abruptly.
Anthrom looked at him. ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly, then regretted it.
‘If you cannot achieve your task,’ said Harling, ‘you are not worthy of her trust. You are too young for such things to be put on your shoulders. I have told her this.’ The old man scratched absently at the growths on his neck.
Anthrom knew to not expect sympathy from one such as Harling. The gaunt Cleric had returned only the night before and had given no indication of success or failure that Anthrom could see. Maybe Noctiluca knew, but Anthrom didn’t. He had stopped spying for a time, too aware that the Medousa knew what he was doing and had forbidden it.
‘Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself.’ Anthrom spat back. He didn’t want any of Harling’s influence convincing Noctiluca to take back her favour.
‘You are a spoilt child, and she is simply making you worse.’ His words just made Anthrom think of what he needed to do. ‘You do not deserve the gift she is trying to give you. Such power is not for children.’
‘What about the Cephean?’
‘They are more broken than you,’ Harling snapped. ‘They are made ready by ordeal.’
‘Are you questioning the Goddess?’ Anthrom asked innocently. ‘Again?’
Harling shook his head and continued on.
The Battle of Theris, as it would come to be known, had left devastation across the city, and the Clerics and acolytes did nothing to restore it. Every house had broken windows, burns, marks where weapons had hacked away at doors to get at the occupant’s inside.
This was done by the Order, he thought, but then corrected himself. No, this was done only to bring to an end a war his father had fought for two decades. Tiber had brought his city low, and it had taken the cleansing burn of the Medousa to put an end to it.
‘You will fail this task.’ Harling didn’t look at him, as they approached the square. ‘And failure is unacceptable.’
Anthrom had seen the evidence of those who failed the Medousa, illustrated in broad red strokes. Failure is unacceptable, he thought. Harling was right about that. But he was wrong about Anthrom. He would succeed, he would command Noctiluca’s respect for completing this terrible deed, and he would claim his reward. He had made peace with it.
‘How do you feel about increasing the ranks of the Cephean?’ continued Harling. He didn’t mean Anthrom; whatever he would become it wasn’t a Cephean. What Harling meant was Anthrom’s task – find the urchins of the city and bring at least one back to the palace, knowing that they would be thralled. Noctiluca wanted him to serve her fully, knowing full well what he was doing to those he led back. Condemning them, he thought, to torture and pain. But it was not so simple. He was also gifting them, the ones he chose, to a life in the very bosom of Noctiluca’s nest where they would never want for anything ever again. An easier life than the one they led now, but pain was the price. It was also his.
‘I will serve the Medousa in this. I will not fail.’
‘I hope for your sake that is true. If you return without them, she will kill you. It might serve you better to run.’ He crushed the air from a fist. His meaning was not lost on Anthrom. ‘I will start you off, but you must do this alone.’ Anthrom wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but if Harling didn’t want to reveal his intent he wouldn’t.
As they reached the square, Anthrom began to see more life. But it was life of a grotesque warped sort. The centre of the square held something Anthrom had never seen. There was a stage around which hung strange Medusi of a species Anthrom had never seen. The body of each Medusi was like a bloated sac, distended to a size large enough to accommodate the prey inside; a full grown adult curled into a ball like a foetus. They floated inside a translucent soup, visible through the membrane of the Medusi carapace. Anthrom had no idea if they were alive or dead, but they certainly looked like they were being slowly digested. These incubator Medusi had tentacles underneath, though they were short and malformed; each was loosely tethered to the ground so as to not float away. And they glowed from within, that otherworldly blue, same as all the others.
Wild and Common Medusi, even the type that Noctiluca sported, used a thralling tentacle to slowly drain their prey of life. These seemed inside out somehow; as he looked closer he could see the thralling tentacle was on the inside like a cord attached to the human prey.
‘Do not feel sorry for them. They are the first among us to ascend,’ said Harling. ‘Stick around and listen. You might learn something.’ He pushed Anthrom back so that he didn’t follow and then clambered up onto the stage, signalling to Clerics around the square.
Over the next ten minutes as Harling paced the stage, the square began to fill; first with the residents of the nearby districts, and then slowly with more survivors of the battle, the old and young, the lame and the injured. Anthrom paid special attention to the urchins, children his age, but many even younger. Some clung to thralled parent’s sleeves, but most were alone, orphans of the war, dirty, unwashed and unfed. These were his targets.
He took care not to be noticed immediately, not to give away that he’d been here since the start.
And everywhere he looked, thralls. If one thing told him Theris was no more, it was this. More than half the congregation were accompanied by a swaying blue lantern, in ghostly counterpoint to the ones with people floating inside. Medusi had taken over the city, transformed its citizens, its buildings, its very atmosphere, into a grotesque, slimy gothic conception; the inside of Noctiluca’s head made flesh.
‘Citizens of Theris, take heart,’ Harling began. His voice was strong and commanding, reaching across the square. With just a few words he brought down the nervous chatter and captured his audience. ‘The time of ascension is at hand. You live in a time of prophecies. Ancient words spoken of the future, bear fruit all around us. Do not fear the unknown, for all has been foreseen.
‘You will be aware of the false stories of the Medusi witch Velella that have been spread for generations by false prophets like the Watchers. They claim she prophesied the coming of the one who would destroy the Medusi. But you also know the story of Velella’s tempting of Clariatus, when she used her powers for her own gain, when she lied about her prophecies to affect a different future.
‘We know she can lie. We know some of her prophecies were not to be believed. So why do we believe the one about the saviour from the sky, who will destroy the Medusi. The Watchers have lied to you for a thousand years. This prophecy was a lie.
‘In order to tell you the real prophecy we must go back further. Back to ancient times, long before the legends that we tell of the birth of this city. The time of creation. First there existed the void, and only the void. Nothing had form. Everything was potential. When you knock flint together you see a spark of heat and light. From this you can create
fire. We are made from fire and light, my children. From the void came a spark, a spark that ignited the void, burned away the mists and fog, and revealed our world, Arceth. And onto this world emerged a beautiful race, so complete and so flawless that for us to look upon them with our eyes would be like looking into the sun. The perfection of the first beings was blinding.’
It was a sermon, like the many Anthrom had witnessed delivered by Premiers and the odd Watcher. Harling preached to the crowd the teachings of the Order, and their Goddess.
‘These perfect beings were born into a world without form. They reached out with the power of life itself and created the forests and the mountains and the seas, the great Floating Islands to inhabit the skies. They created all the animals that walk on the ground, the birds that fly in the sky and the fish that swim the sea. They lived immortal lives of bounty and pleasure, free from worry or anguish, from disease and age. Their fall, when it came, was not due to the desires of the flesh; all their desires were fulfilled. They were the embodiment of creation.
‘Instead, it was the force of destruction that must exist in counterpoint to the force of creation. Destruction found them, wanting nothing more than to destroy that which had been created.
‘The perfect beings were ripped asunder, cleaved in two by these primal forces vying for dominion. Two pieces were left over; the first was the race of man, male and female and everything in between, but sundered from the other; the second was the race of Medusi, forever looking for the connection it had lost. Do not think that one represented creation and the other destruction; instead both forces lay within each of the new creatures.
‘We humans have the capacity to create and destroy. We can bear children or we can choose to kill one another. We can paint masterpieces or we can burn villages. The Medusi also contain this duality; the ability to spawn, and the ability to kill.
Embrace of the Medusi (The Overlords Trilogy Book 2) Page 35