by Conner, Jack
The Lerumites arrayed themselves to help, but just then the acolytes of the Lerumites, at least some of them, broke ranks and set upon their fellows, spilling gray-blue blood.
The dripping limb renewed its descent, the Lady could smell it near her. She turned to see it wrap around the litter that bore the Jewel, and she smiled as the litter rose into the night to be devoured by the Great One. The rebels may cause some disarray, but they would not, could not, pose a threat to Uulos.
She noticed a shadow, small and slender, clinging to the underside of the litter, and she frowned. Surely . . .
Davril held his breath as he felt the litter rise into the air. The massive tendril had wrapped around the litter front and back, but it did not want to approach the Jewel, so its coils did not touch Davril, who clung to the underside of the litter directly beneath the burning, flaming egg.
Behind him, below him, he could hear the clash of the soldiers, the angry shouts of the Lerumites and their traitorous acolytes. He grinned, thankful that they’d distracted attention away from the Jewel, that they had given him the chance to stow away on its litter, but he regretted that theirs was otherwise a hollow gesture. Even now those loyal to the rebellion would be being slaughtered. They had attacked in the expectation that a larger assault was brewing, but this was not the case. Davril’s generals and spymasters had lied to them. He begged their spirits’ forgiveness even as the great limb drew him at last inside the shadow surrounding—emanating from—fused with Uulos.
All other thoughts were driven from his mind. He saw things he could not describe, mad geometries, protrusions that were not limbs, not heads, not phalluses, but something altogether other. He saw huge unblinking eyes set into glistening black folds of flesh, massive, round mouths gaping and gnashing, lined with endless rows of triangular teeth, great slabs and joinings and . . . more. Much, much more. Arcs of green lightning rippled from one mound of flesh to another nameless body part. Energy crackled in the air. Things that might be living creatures swarmed in streams about the massive bulk, singing and swaying, flying amongst the treacherous terrain, at last vanishing into unnamable apertures.
Uulos was vast, and strange, and unlike anything Davril could ever have imagined, and he gave off an energy, a taint . . .
Davril barely clung to consciousness. If it weren’t for the bloodthirsty dagger clenched between his teeth and the power inherent in it, he was sure he would have been driven mad or mutated by the energy of this place, this Being, but he stuck to his purpose. This was it. The last hope of man.
The great limb coiling about the litter drew it and its burden to the greatest mouth Davril had yet seen. It yawned before him like a moon, but it was a hole, endless, wide and lined with teeth. Tongues writhed in it far below. The lips widened, revealing the maw in all its glory, and the dripping limb shoved the litter inside. A tangle black tongues dragged the litter deep into the gullet of Uulos.
Davril swayed. His fingers trembled, nearly let go. He gagged at the stench. Sweat beaded his pores, and he felt a great malevolence descend on him, a great mind. It had noticed him, even in the shadow of the Jewel. The Jewel’s presence must be much stronger than his, more noticeable, but somehow Uulos had found him.
Pressure built in his head. He screamed. Pain suffused him, became him.
He tried to push the Worm away. The Worm was too strong. Only the dagger kept him alive, and the taint that ran in his blood. He thought of Alyssa, and strength returned to him.
The tongues drew the Jewel deeper still, and Davril smelled acid, heard the gurgle of fluid.
Now. It must be now.
Wearily, he repositioned his handholds and swung himself atop the litter. Directly before him, the Jewel blazed. Its smoke stung his nose, and its light seared his eyes. It smoldered, raging, defiant even in the throat of the Worm. Davril did not know what it was, even now, and supposed he never would.
He yanked the dagger from his teeth. The light of the Jewel was the only light there was. Can I truly do this?
He stepped forward, the blade of his dagger glinting.
The egg flamed higher, as if furious, and he wondered with a thrill of fear if it knew what he wanted.
Meanwhile the Presence returned, trying to invade Davril’s mind. He pushed it away. One of the tongues coiled to strike at him. He slashed at it, and it fell away. Uulos roared in his head, and Davril nearly collapsed.
The Worm’s blood ran off his dagger, and the blade throbbed with power. It had just tasted the blood of Uulos. He could feel it swelling in might.
The stench of acid and sulfur increased. The fluid boiled louder, closer.
Davril’s dagger was a red fang in the darkness.
More of Uulos’s tongues coiled nearby, preparing to rip Davril limb from limb —.
Now!
Without hesitation, ignoring the flames eating at his skin, Davril plunged his dagger into the Jewel of the Sun. He felt its outer shell of stone break under the impact, felt his blade drive deep, deep . . .
The egg exploded. Davril’s world turned white, then red, then black.
Hiera breathed a sigh of relief as the last of the rebels were put down, their blood running across the flagstones, their bodies twitching in gory heaps. The gathering had drawn back, away from the conflict, and so there was a wide space between the people of Sedremere and Uulos.
Smiling, she turned back to Him.
He erupted. A red fire seemed to consume Him from the inside, expanding outward. He exploded, and the last sight the Lady ever saw was a wave of hellish fire rushing toward her.
The wave of fire washed over the marble, incinerating thousands of Sedremerans before it died out, leaving trails of smoke to wreathe upward and obscure the stars. The survivors murmured in awe. All the Lerumites had been slain, all the soldiers loyal to the Worm, the Lady, everyone.
And as far as the Worm Himself, he remained. In a thousand, perhaps a million, smoldering chunks of black flesh, he remained, scattered far and wide over the city. The people of the city would find these chunks, on rooftops alleyways, for months afterward. And in all cases, they would instantly summon a priest to help them dispose of them.
As for Alyssa, she screamed along with everyone else when the fire consumed Uulos and spread outward, and like the rest, when it was all over, she stared with disbelief at the spot where He had lain.
Unlike most, though, she had the courage to wander through those seared chunks of black flesh afterward, and what was more, had the audacity to climb the steps of the scorched, smoking pyramid where Davril had been crowned. She remembered standing beside him that day, remembered smiling so happily as the fountains had spurted scented green water . . .
She wept, and wandered, not knowing what she expected to find, and at her side, at the edges of her vision, five shadows kept pace.
At last, at the very top of the pyramid, she found him. He should not have endured, any part of him. He should have been incinerated instantly. But the power of the dagger, and the power of the Patron that ran in his veins, had protected him, or at least preserved some remnant of him.
His blackened remains still gripped the dagger, sprawled among heaps of glistening, flaming, gelatinous flesh. She knelt beside him and wept, and the stars came out above.
Epilogue
For many weeks afterward, Alyssa worked with the rebels and the Avestines to bring order to Sedremere, then the countless other cities and provinces of Qazradan. Many fish-priests had been dispatched to other cities to spread the Word of Uulos, and these did not take kindly to events in the capital. But at last they were slain, or scattered, and some semblance of human order was restored.
Finally the day came when Alyssa, rightful Empress of Qazradan, returned to the Palace and took up her seat, her first task being to have half the priests in the city “purify” the place. That done, she oversaw the reconstruction of the Empire with renewed energy, and all remarked on how she glowed, how her baby-to-be would be twice blessed with such a m
other. But her eyes were sad, and she rarely smiled. Then came a night when her servants awoke her. Bleary-eyed, her back causing her discomfort with the new burden on it, she sat up and bed and said, “What is it?”
“Singing, my lady,” said one of her handmaidens. “There is singing below, from the lower catacombs.”
“Singing?”
“Yes, my lady. And the servants say they hear strange noises, like the grinding of stone.”
“The Door opening . . .”
Alyssa ordered her shoes brought, and she was helped down the stairs as fast as she could go. Her rooms were at the very tip of the tallest tower, and it took some time for her to reach the catacombs in her condition, and even more for her to descend them, dark as they were. The servants trembled, but she implored them to go faster.
Sweating, she reached Davril’s tomb, newly built and still garlanded with flowers. “Open it,” she ordered, and her servants shoved the covering away. Some gasped and muttered prayers beneath their breaths. In truth, Alyssa was not surprised by the tomb’s emptiness, but it meant she must hurry.
Heart beating fast, she descended through the darkness, moving as fast as she could go. There was not much time now. Please, don’t let me miss him, she thought. I could not bear it if I missed him . . .
“We can go no further,” her servants said when they reached penultimate level.
“Give me a torch.”
They bowed to her as she descended the final flight of stairs. Alone, with child, she made her way through the dark, the smoke teasing her nose, her heart beating ever more rapidly inside her ribs.
She had been moving with such speed that she had not even truly noticed the singing, but now she did. Sweet and strange, it echoed off the walls and brought shivers to course down her spine. Oddly, though, she found that she liked it, even if it was unlike anything she had ever heard before. Eerie and confounding, it filled her with hope, mystery and awe.
At last she stepped off the bottom step and entered the room of the Great Tomb. Her torch illuminated little, but at the other end of the room a strange, green glow bathed the open Door. She gasped to see the great demon’s mouth open, and green light flooding from it, silhouetting six forms . . .
She fairly ran across that wide space. Distantly, she thought she could hear bells tolling, the sound echoing up from the depths beyond the Great Tomb.
Five of the figures were trying to encourage the sixth to step into open portal, but it was ignoring them. It had turned from them, and its head pointed in her direction. One of its arms stretched out toward her.
The others shapes slipped through the portal.
Hurry, she thought she heard a voice say. Hurry, it cannot hold for long.
The bells were fading, at least to her hearing—and the Door closing.
No!
She ran fast and hard.
The door continued to close —
She ran —
Not fast enough.
Just before the Door closed, the figure blew her a kiss, then vanished down the demon’s throat forever. The green light faded, and the stone mouth snapped shut.
Alyssa wiped her tears away, said a prayer under her breath, staring at that hideous, closed Door. After a long moment, she turned away. Darkness pressed in around her, swallowing her, but all she could see was Davril’s face, as it once had been, handsome and smiling, lit by green light. It had been worth it, her flight through the Palace, all worth it. She would have that image to take with her until the end of time.
Then she thought of her baby, and how he would look just like his father. But he would not share his father’s burden, oh no. Uulos was dead, Asqrit fallen, and the Deep One weakened beyond the point of return. There would be no more sacrifices, not now, not ever. The time of the gods was over.
Finally, torch thrust before her, she mounted the stairs, returning to the world of life, and light, leaving the darkness behind.
THE END
A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Thank you for reading The Empire of the Worm. I hope you enjoyed it. Either way, please leave an honest review wherever you purchased it. Help me get the word out! I would also love to hear your feedback at [email protected] or you can find me on facebook at https://www.facebook.com/jack.conner.98 .
You might enjoy some of my other novels, such as my epic fantasy The War of the Moonstone (find it here http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00GZX6OLU in the US or here https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00GZX6OLU in the UK).
The Song of Doom is a two-part epic fantasy that is a semi-sequel to The War of the Moonstone, and the first volume can be found HERE in the US or here ( https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00B95VE4Q ) in the UK.