Bargain

by Riley S. Keene

  The interior of the Temple at night was actually kind of beautiful. Just as promised, the ceiling looked like a clear and cloudless sky, magically enhanced to show hundreds of thousands more stars than are normally visible in southern cities. Ermolt felt a pang of nostalgia for the sheer darkness of the night in his homeland. It had been ages since he had seen the constellations of Idalia the Bold and Netuma the Eastern Archer so clearly.

  Ermolt was also surprised to see the rooms of the temple were filled with trees and gardens, more carefully manicured than any city park Ermolt had ever seen. It was so much prettier than he’d expected. The whole effect of the Temple was made incredibly surreal by the presence of walls that seemed to grow up out of the foliage and fade away into the sky.

  Merylle gave quiet, clipped orders to her Overseers before they dispersed into the park-like interior to start off the festivities.

  Ermolt was proud of Merylle. After hearing Athala’s plan, she’d demanded they move forward, no matter how many healing potions it cost them. And folks responded to it well. It was good for her people to see her fully recovered before going about their assignment. It made her seem that much stronger in the face of the Temple that had wounded her in the first place.

  With a wave of her hand, Merylle started towards the stairs. Elise, Athala, and Ermolt followed Merylle as she made her way through the Temple. Ibeyar and his mercenaries followed close behind.

  They managed to avoid contact with any other Temple forces. Ermolt was amused at their hubris. Not having guards outside was one thing, but leaving the first floor of the Temple so unguarded was just idiotic. With the festival coming, and their attack having been so recent, it was likely that many of their forces were recovering from their wounds, or simply off-duty so that they could be ready to reinforce security during the festival. They were likely feeling confident in their approach, since their spy would have informed them of the skirmish already planned to interfere with the festival, with nothing anticipated before the setup began.

  The group lurked in the shadow of the stairwell until the Overseers returned from their task. It wasn’t long before they could see the glow of the flames from within the indoor park. The fire would spread quickly, and the smoke would only make matters worse. The arched ceiling would trap the smoke and reduce visibility, literally choking any attempt to quench the flames.

  The mob of Overseers led the charge to the next floor. They swarmed up the stairs quietly, barely leaving a footstep to echo through the air.

  Every fiber of Ermolt’s being thrummed in anticipation. This was where they were sure to find more resistance, as this area included the living quarters for the Priests and Clerics. After a muted thump sounded from above them, Merylle lead the remaining group up the stairs. They had to step over the guards at the top of the stairs, but the take downs seemed to be clean and bloodless. Dead or alive, Ermolt cared not. He trusted the Overseers to do what was needed.

  The Overseers spread out in small teams ahead of the main group as they made their move forward, silencing guards and taking down what Priests and Clerics they encountered wandering the halls.

  All in all, there was barely a noise made until they arrived at the High Priest's quarters. Two Temple Guards stood watch outside, facing the only approach on either side. The Overseers did their best to take them out quietly, but the guards put up too much of a fight to be put down without creating a commotion. The collected group stood in silence, waiting for an alarm. But when no more resistance appeared in response to the noise, they moved on.

  Ermolt grew nervous. Things were going along too well for such an easy plan. Something had to go wrong, and he hoped it wouldn’t be with Merylle if she objected to their plans for the dragon once they were in the sanctum. Ermolt would have to trust Elise to take care of her, if such a problem arose.

  With a glance down the hall, Merylle led the way inside the High Priest’s office. The room was empty, despite the late hour, but Merylle didn’t seem surprised.

  In fact, she seemed... distracted. Dreamy. Her fingers lingered on every surface within reach as she walked through the room, as though by touching a place that was once hers, she could make it hers again.

  A large desk sat in the center of the room. The symbol of Teis had been carved into the top of it and then filled with some clear blue varnish. It glowed faintly, through magic or science, and to Ermolt it looked very clearly like it was supposed to represent the sky. Merylle walked to it with that dreamy look in her eyes, but something made her pause. She ran her fingers over a sole piece of paper that sat on the edge of the table. Ermolt couldn’t see it from where he stood, but there was something written on it.

  Frustration marred her features. She snatched the paper up and crumpled it into a ball before she tossed it across the room. Elise stepped forward to see what the matter was, but Ermolt grabbed her arm and shook his head. They could ask later. Now they had something to do.

  Merylle looked up at those collected and motioned for Ibeyar and his mercenaries to step forward. Behind the desk, along the back wall of the office, was a series of pillars. She showed the man and his ‘contractors’ the hidden lever as she yanked it out of the wall. The lever snapped back into place quickly, but there was a sound nearby like rolling chains.

  “Ibeyar,” Merylle whispered, her lips drawn into a firm frown. “Teis knows we’re here.” She motioned towards the crumpled note. “If you wish to read His mocking words, do so. Or use it as kindling if you’d rather. I care not. The room is yours. Hold it as long as you can, but we shouldn’t need much time.”

  “Of course,” he said in a gruff voice that Ermolt thought—not for the first time—was incredibly familiar. He didn’t recognize the man from Jalova, but after seeing how he handled his mercenaries, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find that he had seen him before, either as a guest at Celnaer Hold, or perhaps even on the other side of a battlefield.

  They were halfway back through the temple to the hidden stairs before they started to hear the yelling. Ermolt pushed his way through the pack of Overseers toward the front of the group. He hoped it was only the alarm being raised in response to the fires downstairs, but he knew it would be much too convenient.

  Ermolt caught sight of some confused-looking Priests ahead. Some of them still in their bedclothes, and one seemed to be the source of the yelling. As Ermolt continued to push through the Overseers, the Priests backed away. A few Overseers pursued, and one caught one of the Priests with her blade, ripping the poor woman open. The others screamed. It was only moments before a group of Temple Guards arrived in response to the noise, and quickly took up formation to protect the fleeing Priests, filling the hall shoulder-to-shoulder.

  “We don’t have time for a fight!” Merylle yelled from the rear of the group. “Push through!”

  Ermolt bellowed a challenge at the line of guards, and the Overseers finally parted to let him charge at the head of the group. To their credit, the Temple Guards didn’t flinch at his approach, but that was perhaps because he appeared unarmed save for an overlarge quiver on his back filled with throwing spears, and was wearing armor made of oflum stone lamellae. His stomping feet was drowned out in the din of tiny rocks clicking together with every step. It may have made him look a little ridiculous.

  The Temple Guards raised their weapons as he approached, one of them daring to call for him to stop, but Ermolt knew what he was doing. There were two things stone beat out metal on—resistance to heat, and sheer weight. His arm swept around, deflecting their swords before he crashed into them. The impact physically scattered the guards, sending half of their line smashing to the floor, while the rest struggled between the choice of lunging at him, or trying to move in to close the defensive line behind him.

  The Overseers behind Ermolt’s charge swept in before they could make a decision, quickly dispatching the guards on the ground. They continued to swarm forward, forcing aside those still standing, either with physical violence, or by menacing the
m with their weapons to force their backs to the wall. The rest of the group pressed through the breach quickly. They following behind Ermolt’s lead as his bellowing laugh joined the rattle of his armor to fill the hall ahead of his charge.

  They encountered one more group of the Temple’s forces on their way to the hidden entrance to the dome. This group was much larger, but less prepared. They appeared to be a group of confused Conscripts investigating the smoke pouring up the stairwell from the first floor as the fire spread through the indoor park.

  Ermolt smashed into their feeble line just as he had the last. He lowered his head and picked one of the men up, bodily throwing him into the terrified Conscripts behind him to clear the way before he was bogged down by sheer numbers. He heard the clang of combat erupt behind him as the Overseers swept in behind him again, but were caught up by the Conscripts defending themselves.

  “Keep moving!” Merylle yelled from somewhere behind. “We don’t have time for this! Forward! Go!” Ermolt was not inclined to stop anyway. The thrill of battle wasn’t even rising in him yet.

  He didn’t want to ruin his appetite before the true fight ahead.

  Every warrior in the Temple set against him at once could not compare to the prospect of slaying a dragon.

  Ermolt charged ahead into the side room the secret entrance was in, and was surprised to find a sleepy-looking Temple Guard staring, confused, at the thick stone rods that had slid out of the wall, forming a crude staircase. Ermolt rushed forward and grabbed the man around the waist, lifting him up and slamming him bodily into the far wall of the circular room. The man let out a strangled cry as he was crushed between the unforgiving stone of the temple and the unforgiving stone of Ermolt’s armor. The guard sagged to the floor with a grunt, curling into a ball on the floor as Ermolt stepped away. It was unlikely that they were completely downed by that first strike, but it was likely enough that they would stay down to try and avoid a worse—possibly fatal—follow-up attack.

  “Clear,” Ermolt shouted over his shoulder, motioning forward.

  “Overseers!” Merylle shouted as she burst into the room behind Ermolt and the Overseers that followed him in. “Guard this room! Hold these stairs!” Without another word she ran to the stairs and climbed into the opening in the ceiling.

  “Ermolt!” Elise said, only a little behind the woman, and with Athala close at her heels. “Let’s go!”

  “Obviously,” Ermolt muttered as he made for the stairs behind his friends. “Because I definitely wanted to miss this part.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Athala had thought nothing could top the beauty of the indoor park on the first floor at night, with its sparkling stars and myriad flora. She’d be loath to burn it, even though the idea had been hers. It was just so unique. So majestic. Setting it aflame felt like sacrilege, which in a way it was.

  But this place was so much more.

  The interior of the dome made Athala gasp with awe. Ermolt and Elise joined her.

  The night sky was plainly visible from all sides. Where the arch of the dome met walls it seamlessly blended to the floor, which seemed to be made of grass. Athala fought the urge to kneel down and see if it was, in fact, grass, or if it was just clever stonework.

  Only the stilled air told her she wasn’t outside. That and the door off to the side—much like the one they’d entered—that seemed to just appear from among the stars.

  The stars.

  Every single star imaginable, even more than Ermolt could likely name, shone in that perfect inky blackness, illuminating the room in a way no mortal could have through lamp or magic.

  She couldn’t imagine what it would be like in the daytime. Would the sky be alight with a sun, startling and warm? Would the sky mimic the outside world, with fog or rain clouds or perfect untouched blue? There was an urge to find out, but she would never know unless she asked Merylle. And this wasn’t the time.

  And while she was impressed by the sky and stars, there was one thing that dwarfed all of that.

  In the near center of the impossibly large room, directly under the curve of the dome, stood a dragon, still as rock. Its wings were spread in flight, legs stretching down to the floor as if it mid-landing. If it were not for the lack of support that kept it from touching the floor, walls, or ceiling, Athala would have thought it an impressive statue. Semitransparent runes spun around the dragon in a spiral, forming a ghostly cylinder. The air thrummed with magic.

  The dragon itself was a reddish purple hue, though it seemed an unnatural color. Like Meodryt, it was studded with bone spikes, but these were a uniform reddish color. Unlike Meodryt's bristling, these spikes were swept back, each one curving from where it protruded until it pointed parallel with the giant beast’s body, towards its tail, with one exception. There was one stubby spike that protruded from the middle of its face, pointing forward like an extraordinarily thick horn. The dragon filled the air of the dome, and Athala felt a familiar twinge of primal terror crawling around the back of her head at its almost unbelievable size.

  “I won’t let you!” a voice cried from beneath the dragon. Athala hadn’t even notice the woman who stepped forward as she had been dwarfed by the dragon in the air above her. She spread her arms, as though she could bar them from entering the massive space. “He told me you were coming, and I won’t let you touch Sirur!”

  “Jutta,” Merylle said, a soothing tone to her voice as she walked forward, empty hands out to her sides. The woman visibly relaxed just a bit and it was obvious there was years of history between these two at just a glance. “It’s me. Why would I want to do anything to the dragon?”

  “Merylle, I...” the High Priest of Teis swallowed hard. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time. I can’t claim to know your heart or mind anymore.” She held her arms straight out in front of herself, as though to ward Merylle away. “But He told me you came for the dragon, and I won’t let you do... whatever it is you plan on doing.”

  “And He told you to come here? Alone? To stop us?” Merylle asked in a bitter tone that sent shivers down Athala’s spine. Merylle looked back at those behind her just then, as if she’d felt the shudder. Athala shifted uncomfortably but the Overseer seemed not to notice. She turned back to look at her once friend.

  “Yes,” Jutta said. She looked back at the waiting entourage, mirroring Merylle. “He said He would protect me. That He needed me here so that He could stop you.”

  “He betrayed you, Jutta,” the Overseer said as she lowered her hands to her sides. Athala looked to Merylle, confused. “He said so in a note that sat upon your own desk. He just sent you here to die for Him, thinking talking to you could stall me long enough that I wouldn’t be able to escape. He wants me dead, but He’s willing to use you to make my death possible.”

  “He wouldn’t betray me like that.”

  “Wouldn’t He?” Athala could hear the smirk in the woman’s voice. “He betrayed me. And for what? A half-baked plan to bring young people to the Temple? After I was loyal my entire life, He threw me away for a hundred followers. Maybe less, from what rumors I’ve heard.” She started forward again, closing the gap between her and Jutta. “You think he wouldn’t sacrifice you if He thought it would protect his trinkets?”

  “He’s not like that.” Jutta stuck her chin out obstinately. “He cares about me. I’m important to Him.”

  “Oh, Jutta.” The words were soft, sad. Merylle shook her head. “Do you remember Tresa? From before I was High Priest? She believed she was meant to be the next High Priest. She told me that He came to her in her dreams the way He came to me, and the way He comes to you. He promised that He cared about her. That she was important to Him.” Merylle shrugged as she stopped beneath the dragon, finally within arm’s reach of the High Priest. “He betrayed her, because when He needed a new High Priest, I was more useful. I was young, popular, outspoken, attractive... He believed I could bring more followers in by bringing the priesthood forward instead of being shackled to tr
adition.” Merylle put her hands on her hips. “She told me that He would betray me, too. That as soon as someone else was more useful, I would be out. And she was right.”

  Athala glanced for a moment to Elise. The Conscript was clutching her mace as if she hoped to rip the head from it. Athala knew Elise didn’t like the Gods using others, and she wondered if she was going to speak up. But the woman kept her mouth shut, drawn in a thin line of anger.

  “I don’t understand,” Jutta finally said. “What does that have to do with me?” She stepped forward once, her chin jutting out towards Merylle in defiance. Athala could see the superiority in her eyes even from across the room. “Who has more to offer Him than I do?”

  “I don’t know,” Merylle said in a voice so quiet Athala almost barely heard her. “But for Teis’s sake, I hope He’s already found them.”

  Athala watched in horror as Merylle moved with a fluidity she’d never seen from the Overseer before. Her weapon was in her hand and arching through the air before Athala could gasp.

  The High Priest’s hand whipped up, the combat training from her time as a Conscript likely kicking in. The reflex was too slow. She caught Merylle’s wrist but the Overseer’s dagger was already sinking a rhen into her neck.

  Blood poured out around the blade. Jutta opened her mouth to scream, but only coughed a red cloud into Merylle’s face. The Overseer yelled, ripping her hand from the weakening grip and completing her slash, cutting Jutta’s fountaining throat open fully. The High Priest sank to her knees, grabbing her throat and gurgling quietly.

  Athala flinched when she hit the ground.

  Merylle had struck her down in a flash. But at the same time, it felt slow as she bled out, everyone just watching as she tried to plead to her God for help.

  The red spreading out from her throat across her fine vestments made Athala feel ill. Jutta finally crumpled to the floor, blank eyes staring up at Sirur as she breathed her last.