Giahem's Talons

by Katharine Wibell

  Yena’s ghostly irises seemed to beam at Lluava. “This city is built on top of Rhadamanthus, where Giahem was the patron god.”

  “I thought…” Lluava stammered, “I thought the city was destroyed…that Tartarus…the royal dungeon…and this temple were all that remained of the original city.” She did not mention the miles of booby-trapped tunnels stretching westward that had served as her escape route during the Fall.

  “Rhadamanthus was destroyed, in most respects. Homes, shops, markets, and the coliseums were leveled. The temple was left, as you know. But that was only a fragment of the city. The rest was subterranean. Let me show you.”

  They entered the blackness. When the door resealed behind them, the walls began to glimmer. Soon, the strange light activated Lluava’s hypersensitive night vision. She could see the corridors clearly, as if they were lit by sconces. She recalled the slimy, organic moss that illuminated Tartarus’s inner depths. The same slime coated these ancient walls. Although Theriomorphs had used it for just this purpose, human eyes could not discern the mossy light. Humans would have stumbled around blindly, their limited vision of no help.

  Fortunately, Lluava was not human. As she moved along the descending path into the first cavernous chamber, stones that had been perfectly hand cut to fit next to one another suddenly metamorphosed into brilliant mosaic murals. The entire room from ceiling to floor was decorated with the chipped gemstone imagery. Around each fragment, the glowing slime radiated.

  “This… is…everything,” Lluava breathed in awe as she began to recognize the stories the images depicted. “This is our religion.”

  “Yes,” purred Yena. “Everything from the Karmasana to the Virisinu is portrayed on these walls. From our beginning to our end. Come. This way.” Yena disappeared down the far hall.

  Half paying attention to the high priestess’s directions, Lluava tried to absorb all that she saw. This part of the subterranean infrastructure was nothing like the decrepit tunnels through which she had escaped several months ago. It was as if she were in a totally different city.

  “Why is this all here, underground? Why bury such beauty?” Lluava did not understand.

  “It was created to worship the one it was made for.” Yena’s answer was as mysterious as their surroundings.

  Lluava passed the first mating ceremony between Giahem and Crocotta, walked alongside Issaura and Ullr riding in their chariots of moon and sun, crossed over Ucrin as he first took command of the sea. She stopped momentarily when she noticed the image of two figures, a man and a woman, connected at the spine. Their features looked similar, as one would expect with twins, yet distinctly different in accordance with their genders.

  The high priestess moved alongside Lluava. “That is the transformation of the god Himeros into the goddess Frij. After Himeros raped Slypher, the Goddess of Earth, Giahem punished him. Himeros would spend the rest of his days as a female in order to better understand the wrong he had done. Frij would be eternally mated to Ucrin, who was as harsh as he could be gentle.”

  Knowing the story, Lluava added, “Slypher bore Himeros two children, the Twins: Suada, Goddess of Lust and Seduction, and Shennue, God of Mischief and Mayhem.”

  Yena nodded and they continued. Several times during their wanderings in Rhadamanthus, Lluava stopped long enough for a brief conversation with Yena about a specific tale of gods or heroes. Finally, the high priestess led her into an apparently insignificant room that was clearly dedicated to one goddess.

  “Do you recognize her?” Yena inquired.

  Lluava looked up at the raven-haired goddess with black eyes. Her face was grim, almost hollow, yet there was a supernatural beauty to her. Lluava replied confidently, “That is Nott, also known as Vor, the Goddess of Night, Death, Dreams, and the Underworld.”

  “And,” Yena said, gesturing to the next depiction of Nott, who held a crying infant, “the mother of Theri.”

  Lluava walked around the room while Yena patiently waited by the final doorway. The entire chamber was indeed dedicated to a particular series of events. Lluava could see the golden eagle of Giahem meeting with Nott, and their love manifesting in the birth of their child. Then she saw the mood shifting to a darker one as Crocotta discovers her mate’s betrayal; she attacks Nott and tears out one eye. The other eye is spared by Giahem, but to sooth his enraged mate, he is forced to condemn Nott to live in and rule forevermore over the underworld, both to protect her and to appease Crocotta.

  “Is this what you wanted to show me?” Lluava asked as she traced the empty eye socket of the goddess. “What happens when a god must be punished?”

  “No,” countered Yena soothingly. “What I want you to see is in here, in the black mirror.” She gestured for Lluava to enter the final room. This area was larger and contained a raised rectangular pool filled with thick, black liquid—the same liquid, Lluava remembered, that the high priestess used for scrying. Its still surface reflected the interior of the chamber almost like a mirror.

  As soon as she entered the, Lluava’s body grew heavy, her voice suppressed. Beside her, Yena began her throaty ritual. Nonverbal humming sounds rumbled from the high priestess’s throat in a rhythm so obscure that Lluava barely recognized it. Yena appeared to glide up to the edge of the pool, where total darkness encapsulated the pair. Then, reaching into the liquid, she scooped up a handful, allowing the black fluid to run down her arm. The droplets left virtually no visible trail, for her flesh was almost the same shade. Ripples from the falling liquid spread until they reached all corners of the large pool.

  The high priestess’s voice took hold. “Crocotta, O magnanimous Queen of the Gods and all that lives, Prophetess, Matriarch of the Blessed, I have come to learn your will.”

  A low glow arose from the center of the pool.

  “Bestow upon me, your servant, keeper of your word, the knowledge you wish to instill.”

  A vision began to take shape in the illuminated liquid. Lluava could finally move closer to the pool and observe the scene that unfolded. A presence, commanding and harsh, seemed to be the main focus. Lluava felt her skin prickle as the massive man, a Berserker, turned to face them. Her gasp was silenced in her throat. The Raider before her was the haunting man from her nightmare. He wore no helmet, unlike his fur-clad brethren, who circled around his gnarled alder throne. A wolf-hide cape with eternally snarling heads over both shoulders exposed little of the pulsing black veins about his neck. His eyes burned wickedly as two Berserkers dragged a prisoner before him—a man whom Lluava recognized.

  Ambassador Alcove was thrown at the feet of the Berserkers’ leader. Landing heavily on the ground, he spat out a mouthful of blood and bile. He looked wild, his hair and beard untrimmed, his clothing frayed and befouled, his body far too thin.

  “Strip him of his cloak,” the leader ordered. It was obvious that Alcove no longer merited a title.

  The two guards pulled off the prisoner’s garment, which was of similar design to the harsh man’s cloak. Shivering, Alcove seemed meager compared to the Berserkers. Even so, he stood proudly, sunken-eyed, in front of his condemner.

  Touching one of the snarling heads on his own cloak, the seated man pronounced in a harsh, guttural accent, “You are no longer worthy to wear the Garb. You do not have a drop of our blood in your veins. The disgrace you have brought upon us has confirmed my suspicions. You are tainted by your affinity with those beasts. Your authority is hereby revoked.”

  Alcove was led away without even a note of protest from his lips. In turn, an elderly man hobbled up to the throne. Pointing up at the gap in the clouds, he wearily said, “The omens favor us. Their fortress has indeed grown silent.”

  The man in the chair waved the elder away and then summoned a fellow Berserker. Lluava recognized Sweyn, the red-bearded prisoner of war who had been traded at the capital for Thad before the Fall. He had claimed he was invaluable to their military leader, the one Lluava supposed was seated in the chair. She wanted to slice off Sweyn’s excus
e for a nose.

  Sweyn spoke up, unabashed. “Th’ boy’s pets be many.”

  Lluava’s neck hairs rose as the seated figure touched a nub where a finger should have been. “If Mandrun thinks his monsters frighten us, he is wrong. We have monsters of our own.”

  The commander’s voice became as dangerous and cold as a shard of ice.

  “Release them.”

  The pool returned to its prior nature, reflecting the strained faces of the two women. Yena spoke first. “These are the humans’ brethren. They share the same ancestors. See how they treat one another. Feel the chill in their hearts.”

  “That may be true,” Lluava agreed, now that she was able to speak again, “but the Mandruns renounced that kingdom centuries ago; they rejected their heritage. They are not like those men we just saw. I know you believe that we cannot trust any human, but consider this: With allies such as the Elysian humans, we would have the army we need to fight off the Raiders and their ‘monsters.’

  “I am not asking you to befriend humans but to use them to reach a mutual goal. Tell me the truth. Do you think we have any chance—any—to defeat the Raiders alone? I know you want to trust me, so I ask you to show me that I can trust you as well.”

  Just like the liquid in the pool, Yena’s pale irises seemed to glow of their own accord. “After you slipped away with young Mandrun, I had a reserve army attack the Ocean Men. Our numbers were vast: great herds of reindeer, swarms of birds, packs of other wild things. Yet the giant ones, the—”

  “Berserkers,” Lluava interjected.

  “Yes. Berserkers. They cut down many. By the time it was over, the ground was so saturated with blood that the water we drew from the wells was red. We retreated, and what was left of our army was brought inside these walls. Since then, I have tried twice to send word to Leucrocotta about our state; twice the Ocean Men returned our messengers—headless.”

  Just envisioning that battle made Lluava feel queasy. “Did Ruire Thoth make it back?”

  Yena lowered her eyes. Something glinted on her cheek. Had she actually cared about Thoth? When the priestess looked up, her resolve had returned. “What you witnessed tonight is a message from Crocotta. This message has recurred every night since I took control of New Rhadamanthus. It is a warning of what is to come. The only other message I have received was a glimpse of the slaughter by the wall upon your arrival. That is why I sent Ruire Thoth to you. I wanted to warn you not to come. You are the catalyst of our race’s salvation. Your life is important above all others.”

  Lluava felt something was still out of place. “The slaughter at the wall had nothing to do with the vision that you keep seeing. What do you make of this other one? If Crocotta keeps showing it to you, it must be important.”

  “I thought the two were linked. That was my error,” admitted Yena. “Recall the scene with the Ocean Men. The sky, the part that was visible, had no moonlight. Yet the stars were observable. That only occurs during the new moon. I wanted you and the clansmen to wait until after this new moon passed, for fear that the battle by the wall was caused by the monsters referred to in the original message.”

  “Well, it wasn’t,” Lluava said sullenly, just before a new and horrifying thought came to her. “High Priestess, tonight is a new moon.”

  Chapter 21

  The Chamber Above

  After a moment of silence, the priestess said, “If this is the night when the monsters are released, I need you to be ready.” Leaving the chamber, she added, “The morning may bring new challenges. Until then, rest is what you need.”

  As Lluava turned to follow Yena, she noted the crudely carved figure of a raven by the stone door. Although its purpose likely had been forgotten years ago, the image of the black raven in the black chamber, eternally guarding the black pool, was unsettling. Solemnly, Lluava left the underground city.

  Before leaving the priestess, Lluava felt compelled to ask something of her. “The Raiders are our enemy and might have the strength to eradicate us,” she began. “Yet they will do the same to the human Elysians. I have seen what happens to any who cross their path. Have you ever thought that maybe we were not meant to work alone? That maybe we were supposed to work together? Maybe this is what Crocotta is telling you?”

  Yena listened patiently, though from her expression she was not enthralled by the idea. Yet with a new threat lurking in the mists, Lluava needed to take advantage of this opportunity.

  Licking her dry lips, she explained, “In the Elysian military, each Theriomorph was partnered with a human. Military partners offset each other’s weaknesses. We discovered that we were stronger when we worked together as one.

  “What if our abilities could be strengthened by pairing them with the humans? What a force we would be! Although this partnership would be one of necessity, it need continue only long enough to ensure that our race will live on.”

  Yena gently rested her hand on Lluava’s shoulder. “You were blessed with the ability to search for good in others. Unfortunately, that can blind you to their true nature. May your wisdom grow with the waxing of the moon, Incarn of Theri.”

  With a mood as gloomy as the sky outside, Lluava returned to her rooms. As she approached, she heard voices within. Yamir, perched on the arm of the couch, stood when he saw her enter.

  “What are you doing here?” she inquired, happy to see a friendly face.

  “Checking up on you and that bird of yours.”

  Onyx had always had an affinity for Yamir. The raven scooted along the back of the couch to get closer to the conversation. Aquila was sitting cross-legged by the unlit hearth. For the moment, he was not marveling over his new possessions.

  Before she could speak, Yamir said, “Derrick’s still bad. We don’t know if he will pull through. That medicine helped, but not enough, I fear.”

  His wounds must be horrific if Idun had failed to heal them. Lluava was determined to ask for more. Yamir looked wretched. Knowing all the losses he had just endured, she could not bear to tell him about the trouble to come. Instead, she gave him her condolences for one in particular. “Yamir, about Father—”

  “I’m going to go now, before it gets late,” Yamir said, then quickly left the room. His sorrow left a clinging sense of dismay. Onyx stretched his neck out and tugged at the end of her sleeve. “I know he’s upset,” she said to the bird before turning to Aquila. “What were you two talking about before I arrived?”

  When Aquila chose to ignore her question, Lluava wondered what a nomad and a clansman could have in common. Her curiosity would have to be left unsated for now.

  Darkness was growing. Outside the windows, the moonless night prevailed.

  ***

  The next morning, everything seemed well in Cronus. No word or whisper of an oncoming attack was heard. No nervous behavior by lookouts or guards was observed by those milling around the city. Maybe this new moon wasn’t the one depicted in the black water last night. Maybe this day would be just like any other.

  There was a knock at the door.

  Without thinking, Lluava called, “Enter!” Still in her sleeping alcove, she quickly pulled a shirt over her head. From the sitting room, she heard a luscious voice comment, “Your rooms are just as I remembered them.”

  Lluava slid on Issaura’s Claws before forcing herself to face Selene. The woman’s pretty smile triggered the taste of bile in Lluava’s mouth. The sepia-skinned Incarn gestured to the nearby chaise. “May I?”

  Giving a curt nod, Lluava realized she was still awkwardly standing in the open entryway between her rooms. “What do you want, Selene?” she asked as she made herself move forward.

  From his favorite position near the balcony’s glass doors, Aquila was observing the strained interchange with an unusual level of interest. A blanket on the floor nearby suggested that he preferred to sleep near the balcony rather than on the couch. Onyx, on the other hand, was nowhere in sight. Maybe Aquila had let him out for a morning flight.

  “I w
anted to officially welcome you back. I hear my darling brother has already beaten me to this gesture several times over. Just the same, I am glad to see another familiar face. And your friend…” Selene’s gaze found the nomad. “My, isn’t he a handsome fellow.”

  Aquila, for the first time in their short acquaintanceship, looked bashful. His cheeks flushed, and he shifted uncomfortably for a moment until Selene looked away. “A shy one, is he not?”

  “I assumed you were with Apex,” Lluava struggled so not to hiss out the words.

  “Who is really with whom?” mused the beautiful woman as she leaned against the chaise. The manner in which she so naturally sprawled over the piece of furniture was just as alluring as all her other gestures. “But, yes, Apex is my chosen partner.”

  “Who did the choosing?” Lluava asked before reprimanding herself for blatantly displaying her feelings.

  Selene did not look offended. “I gathered there would still be a great deal of animosity between us. You must understand that I come here in earnest desire for friendship.”

  “Have you forgotten your attempt to bash my brains in?”

  Selene appeared overcome with remorse. She sat up straight and clasped her hands before her as if begging for forgiveness. “I am so sorry for that. It was just a rush of emotions. Maddened by fear, you could say. Too much had occurred too quickly. I needed Varren, and you had been working to undermine me. I was angry. And people were dying. I was terrified.” It was hard to follow Selene’s rationale, since she was jumping between two entirely different lines of thought. “I sought only protection, as I always have. I had been working so hard to secure a place at court for myself and my brother that I forgot to consider the feelings of my friends.”

  Dropping her gaze, Selene admitted, “I have never been good at friendship. Well, not the female sort. I did not even consider that you had romantic inclinations toward Varren. Not until after I made my claim. You…you who were always so resilient and strong. So independent. I guess I saw you as a soldier, not another woman.”