Embrace of the Medusi (The Overlords Trilogy Book 2)

by Toby Andersen

They seemed to sense her; one then another wrapping around her. First tentatively round an arm, then stronger on a leg. A third one latched around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She tried not to struggle, though Totelun didn’t know how. She couldn’t have screamed no matter how scared she was. He would have been trying to rip those tentacles to pieces. The fronds arranged her above the hole and slowly bore her down inside. Only now did she struggle. Far too late, the tendrils had her wrapped up in a cocoon, or like a snake choking its prey. Feet first, she descended into the hole until her legs were submerged, then her torso and eventually her head and hair and a tangled Medusi were dragged beneath.

  Totelun swallowed. It had to be one of the most terrifying things he’d ever witnessed, and he’d seen a lot. It was the silence of it. Cassandra hadn’t, couldn’t say a word, nor scream or shout, but he’d seen the panic on her face.

  ‘What now?’ said Totelun. ‘What happens to her?’ He had meant it for Kasimir, but Opal overheard him.

  ‘Come, slayer,’ she said. ‘We will show you.’

  The procession continued to the edge of the dark red coral, the boundary of this particular creature, Totelun supposed, and descended a wide walkway that brought them down by five metres or more. There was a strangely decorated archway in the side of the coral, festooned with veils and drapes, small statues carved from other types and colours of coral arrayed on plinths and altars. It was like one of the shrines to the dead Totelun had seen the shamans encourage when a member of the tribe passed away.

  One of the soldiers pulled the drapes aside and the three Matriarchs led them in.

  Inside the Nepenth? he thought. Or at least underneath it.

  Though it was daylight outside, albeit refracted through the waterfalls at all times, in here it was almost pitch black. A few of the soldiers collected small bioluminescent globes from the walls on the interior. When Totelun got a close look, he saw they were yet another species of coral, these lighting up with a diffuse green when the soldiers handled them. One was handed to Pearl, who led them further inside.

  Opal was the one who spoke. ‘This is a place sacred to all Reunalians. You are the only outsider to have ever seen it.’

  Forgive me if I’m not overcome, thought Totelun, sarcastically.

  As the lights headed further in Totelun was able to grasp the structure of the chamber. What had initially felt close and small, was revealed to be a huge expanse; the ceiling wasn’t high, maybe three metres above them, but the cavern extended deep ahead. It was as large underneath as it had been above.

  But he couldn’t really see any of it. Instead, his view of the chamber was blocked by large hanging pods with taut translucent skin. There was pool of liquid at the bottom of each like hanging water skins. Each was suspended from the ceiling and stretched down so that it’s bulbous distended bowl sat at waist height.

  There were maybe a hundred of them. The green globes moved through them, lighting them up from the opposite side, revealing the contents, which was usually very little of anything. But sometimes there was more.

  In one, Totelun could see a body; it lay in the liquid, clothing and skin hanging off in clumps. Beneath them, human bones were clearly visible in various stages of being eaten away. In another, the body was more intact; decomposition hadn’t yet set in, its features still visible. In another, only fleshless bones remained.

  ‘What is this?’ Totelun asked. ‘It’s macabre.’

  ‘It’s not macabre,’ said Opal. ‘This is how we recycle. The Nepenth digests the bodies of the dead. The nutrients and effluence it excretes fertilises the coral throughout the city, and helps our meagre crops to grow. The dead contribute to the great renewal of life.’ She gestured to the chamber as a whole, her face covered in hundreds of tiny green shadows following the lines of her many wrinkles. ‘This is our shrine to the dead. Relatives come here to see their loved ones absorbed, though they rarely stay long.’

  ‘I can see why.’

  Opal had spotted their final destination. ‘Ah, here she comes.’ She gestured for the lights to be brought close, leaving them surrounded by darkness and the bodies of the dead. They congregated around one particular pod. With the small globes lighting up everything, Totelun had a clear view as Cassandra appeared above them coming down into the pod. The tentacles released her slowly, and when the last had disentangled itself, she slid down the side of the pod’s skin into the liquid at the bottom with a splash.

  She stood quickly, peering out at the gathered lights surrounding her, shielding her eyes. She still had her visor, so she could see, and she searched frantically until she found Totelun’s face. Her hand came up against the skin of the pod, a dark five-pointed shadow pushing against it, trying to reach him.

  If he hadn’t been disarmed at that moment, Totelun would have sliced through the transparent membrane and freed her there and then, pouring acid and bile and everything else across the chamber floor. As it was the membrane was clearly too thick to get through without a weapon. All he could do was stare back at her, unable to help. He growled in rage.

  Cassandra reacted to the liquid around her feet as if scalded, lifting a foot and toppling. He had to find a solution and soon, she wouldn’t last long in there, before she was irrecoverably burned.

  ‘She will be digested slowly, over the next three to four weeks. One lunar cycle it takes,’ said Opal calmly. ‘Though the dead feel nothing, Cassandra will feel everything, as the acid dissolves first her skin and muscle, her eyes. But take comfort. She will die of starvation and thirst before the first week is out, while we are saf-’

  Totelun lunged for Opal, shouting and cursing, only stopped from tackling the elderly Matriarch by Kasimir bodily throwing him to the floor instead. He tried to rise only to find a sharp blade at his throat.

  As Opal recovered herself, she scowled at him. ‘As for you, slayer, you brought that witch here against our laws. You sought to destroy Reunalis, and for that you must die.’

  Kasimir helped Totelun to his feet. ‘I sensed no will to destroy our city or to break our laws,’ said Kasimir. Better late than never.

  ‘He just tried to kill me.’ snapped Opal.

  ‘We are executing his companion!’

  ‘Quiet!’

  But his mother Pearl stayed her with a raised palm. ‘Let him speak.’

  ‘Before he arrived,’ said Kasimir, realising he had their attention, ‘he had no knowledge of our customs. Punishing him is like punishing a child, he knew no better. He came here seeking the mighty Thunwing. Not to bring Medusi. If anything, he has highlighted a great truth.’

  The Matriarchs waited to hear it.

  ‘That we are not alone. While we cower and hide down here there is a world up there fighting the Medusi threat.’ He calmed himself. ‘I must intercede on his behalf. Release them both, I beseech you.’

  Pearl stepped up to Totelun and observed him. Though he was conscious of her intense stare, he was even more conscious of Cassandra struggling to find a way to stay out of the liquid in the pod beside them.

  ‘Opal calls you slayer,’ Pearl said. ‘Your crystal proves you have slain a Celestial. In recognition of this feat I am willing to give you a chance to prove you did not knowingly bring Medusi here.’

  Opal opened her mouth to shout a retort, but once again Pearl stopped her.

  ‘You claim you seek a Thunwing to return to your Floating Islands. A fantastical story I can hardly credit. But until now we had never had a single visitor. You must come from somewhere I can hardly believe. Why not the Islands?’ She paused, her eyes narrowing. ‘Instead of an execution, I propose a test. A trial by ordeal. You must subdue a male buck Thunwing. We have many wild males here. Tame one and you will prove yourself.’

  That sounded too good to be true. What was the catch? ‘And if I fail?’

  Opal answered. ‘You will die. If you have anything but the purest of motives, it will throw you into the abyss.’

  *

  Kasimir led Totelun out
onto a coral platform that jutted some fifty feet from the cliff city. Salty spray from the waterfalls above, coated their faces and clothes. On the far end of the coral shelf, Totelun could see a group of Thunwing’s relaxing, young buck males lounging in the warm vapours that rose from the depths.

  Below the coral shelf they stood on, the sheer cliff fell away. The waterfalls flowed away into darkness; there was no bottom that Totelun could see.

  The soldier stopped him before they had taken more than a few steps. Arrayed above them were a range of viewing platforms, railed balconies from which the matriarchs and the interested citizens of the city could observe the trial. From which they can watch me die, he thought morbidly.

  Kasimir unlocked his manacles, freeing his hands.

  ‘I have given you a second chance,’ he said. Totelun wasn’t sure he had bought himself anything much with the change from execution to trial by ordeal. He had just exchanged methods of death. ‘There is another prophecy that Opal didn’t tell you.’ He lowered his voice so that only Totelun could hear him. ‘There is a legend that a stranger with a heart made of crystal will be the one to lead us back to the surface world. She did not say because she fears you are the end of her rule here in Reunalis.’

  ‘I don’t have a heart made of crystal,’ said Totelun.

  ‘Yes, you do. The Celestial’s heart.’

  Totelun just looked at him, not sure what to say. Prophecies, who needs them? They were more trouble than they were worth. He was about to die trying to tame a beast because some old lady believed that some ancient words were truth. Ancient words that were being liberally interpreted in front of him.

  ‘The city wasn’t always named Reunalis,’ said Kasimir. ‘It used to be called New Andromeda, but we have largely given up our history in favour of a few half-remembered legends and laws.’

  His mother Pearl shouted from the balcony above. ‘What is taking so long?’

  ‘I cannot promise you a Thunwing,’ said Kasimir quickly. ‘No one can. They are wild creatures. Many of our fledgling riders fail this test and plummet to their deaths. But I can give you one piece of advice. A Thunwing will only imprint on one with pure intentions. That much was truth.’

  Totelun scoffed. He was not sure of this whole pure motive thing, but at the same time he supposed he did not have any nefarious goals here. His intentions were as he had stated them.

  Kasimir handed Totelun the goggles from around his neck, so similar to his own. The ones his father had given him. He turned Totelun around and pushed him out onto the coral.

  Totelun walked.

  It was like walking down a pier suspended in the air with a sheer drop into nothing on either side. Totelun turned back to see the audience in their balconies; they watched him with rapt expressions. If he messed this up, he was going to fall to his death, and they were going to watch and cheer.

  Ahead, the Thunwings began to notice him. One or two stared at him with docile eyes as he approached, quickly deciding they wanted nothing to do with the suicidal human; they lumbered to the edges of the coral and dropped into flight below, then began to circle above like vultures over a carcass yet to fall.

  Ten feet from the end and there was just one large male Thunwing left. A buck, hard with muscle and sinew and a tail powerful enough to swipe Totelun straight off the platform. He had no saddle; his large wild eyes said no one had mastered him yet. And not only that he seemed happy to challenge Totelun. This one doesn’t expect to ever be tamed. The wild and untameable Thunwing met the determined human with no alternative.

  Behind the Thunwing, the waterfall roared.

  Totelun heard what he imagined Cassandra’s voice would sound like in his mind. I see a waterfall over a great abyss, where the water just falls forever, she said. I have seen you fall, but I never see you return. This was it, this was the moment she had foreseen. He was unreasonably glad she wasn’t here to witness it.

  More than his own death, he hated the idea that if he didn’t come back, she would die thinking he had abandoned her.

  The creature’s wings were splayed on the coral around it, cumbersome and fleshy. But only on land. In the air, he would be a majestic creature. He was a speckled green-blue in colouring, white and grey sprinkled down his flanks. He would camouflage well in a murky algae-covered swamp. He reared up like a seal, regarding Totelun, showing his chest and challenging him to approach. The underside of him was where his colour lay, vibrant red and orange like flame. He was a fine specimen, one of the most impressive Totelun had ever seen.

  That’s great, I couldn’t have picked a weak little one to subdue? he thought. This one seemed eager to fulfil the Matriarch’s promise. Well, there’s no helping it now.

  He reached out a hand and edged forward. The Thunwing barked at him, deep and low, somewhere between a cough and a roar. It echoed round the cavern. When Totelun was almost close enough to touch, the Thunwing moved, cocking its head, catching him in one wide glassy eye. Is it going to accept me, just like that? Totelun doubted it, and the moment he did, the Thunwing lunged.

  It rolled into him, knocking him flat. Totelun only just managed to scurry out of the way, before he was flattened by its bulk.

  Only now the Thunwing was between him and the city. And Totelun was at the edge of the coral pier with nowhere to go.

  He caught the playful glint in the Thunwing’s eye as it barrelled into him, connecting with enough force to wind him and not stopping. The Thunwing launched over the ledge taking Totelun with it, tumbling down into the abyss.

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Anthrom

  It didn’t matter that he was one of them now; travelling with thousands of thralls was a disconcerting experience for Anthrom. The legions of thralled soldiers, mercenaries, horse lords and city folk of all shapes and sizes moved like a blanket of ethereal light over the valleys with him at the centre; at night they were visible for miles around, lit up like a Winter equinox festival. He began the campaign as they left the Theris Valley, with thralled scouts checking the terrain ahead, but quickly they were proved pointless; they never spotted anything and he suspected their own Medusi gave them away. An enemy scout would see his army long before his scouts could see them in turn.

  Eerie and silent, the company of thralls sent a shiver down his spine. The mercenaries weren’t mercenaries anymore; formerly Isingr’s horsemen and Medusi hunters from all across Terracon, they’d fought for money before the siege of Theris. Now they were thralls under the same compulsion to serve as all their brethren. Their faces were slack, eyes dim and unfocused as they trudged onward through the mud churned by their predecessors. It was disturbing to be surrounded by such a mindless and yet singular host. Only the Cephean would talk to him, and they were in direct contact with the Medousa. He gave them a wide berth also.

  Worse even than the thralls, were the Medusi blooms. He wasn’t sure the word bloom was sufficient any longer. This was a swarm, a plague. Like locust converging to strip a field of every crop in sight, the Medusi flocked in such numbers that he couldn’t begin to count them. There could easily be a million, he guessed, after he lost count completely. Noctiluca had gathered them from the Theris Basin where they had been breeding exponentially for months. Yet more had come from the Terracon lands, drifting in with the prevalent winds. By the time they had crossed into Argentori lands, tens of thousands more joined the swarm like two bodies of water uniting.

  It became hard to tell when the daylight had abandoned them. His world was bathed in lucent blue, so bright he could no longer see the moon.

  And Anthrom stood at the epicentre, the swirling eddies of this strange current treating him like a steadfast rock. No, Noctiluca is at the centre, he corrected. Her magic fed this unnatural mass migration. The coercion she had exerted on him had fallen away even as he left the castle, but the hundreds of thousands of Medusi and soldiers were in thrall to her. She exerted pressure on their minds, directed the flow of the tide. Only Anthrom and the Cephean demonstrated any
kind of free will.

  He was also suspicious yet again that her magic was not visual. She couldn’t see where the Medusi flowed – she was back at the palace – but felt it instead. She relied on the constant whispered directions of the Cephean, coordinating and coercing in tandem with her.

  Anthrom was aware he was under constant surveillance. As they pushed through the forests on the outskirts of Argentor lands he felt keenly his inability to exercise his new powers of perception. He was reduced to practicing only when alone in his palanquin. Being someone else wasn’t all about what one could see. He had to also project aurally, affect a different cadence and tones, make the subject believe with their ears as well as their eyes.

  After a week of travel, he was disturbed from his experiments by a scout knocking on the palanquin exterior.

  ‘Excuse me, my lord.’

  Anthrom drew aside the curtain, looked at the scrawny young Cephean. He hadn’t bothered to learn their names, but this one was familiar, having drawn the short straw to approach on a number of occasions now. Malik, was it? ‘Report.’

  ‘Argentor is a few hours march from here, over the next set of hills,’ he said. Anthrom had been aware they still had a little way to go.

  ‘Then why have we stopped?’

  ‘We have met the enemy, my lord.’

  What? he thought. Noctiluca’s pet informant in the city was supposed to have seen to it there was no enemy, no defence of any kind. They were meant to meet him and then Anthrom was to oversee the Medusi swarm over the city and thrall everyone in sight. He was not here to command a battle.

  ‘What about our ally? Is he here?’

  ‘No, sir. But there is an Argentori representative requesting parlay.’

  ‘Where?’ he snapped.

  ‘In the valley below,’ said the Cephean. He was sure it was named Malik. The snotty little noble’s son looked down on him despite his station, he was sure of it. ‘Look out the other side.’

  Anthrom scowled at the instruction, but did as suggested. He inched the curtain aside with a finger, looking through without being seen in return. He was near the top, looking down, into a vast green valley of knee-high grasses. Ahead, a ridge swept up obscuring what he knew was the direction of the city some four or so miles beyond. Along the ridge he could see soldiers, black-clad figures with pikes, weapons. He could see cannon emplacements. And strange spindly creatures, standing like ominous sentinels on their stilt-like legs all along the ridge, silhouetted against the late afternoon sky.