“All of them?” I said, sitting forward with feigned earnestness. “Alive and unharmed?”
I made as if to struggle with my pretense of indifference, hoping he’d believe that I just could not contain myself.
Edron smiled smugly, disdain oozing from every pore. “All of your mortal descendants. Alive and unharmed. Khronos is well aware of their value to you.”
I leapt to my feet, pretending to lose my composure in my eagerness. “Of course! Of course! I have no desire for bloodshed!” I exclaimed, coming down from the dais. “I am a man of peace. It is not my desire to see anyone come to harm. Only give these men to me and we will retire to my private chambers to begin negotiations!”
Exultant, Edron gestured for the hostages to be released. As his attendants removed the Tanti from their restraints, I watched Drago glide into position nearby, slipping unobtrusively between two of my personal guard. I saw his fists tighten on the shaft of the halberd he carried. He gave me an imperceptible nod, and I signed to him with a finger: Hold, my friend, until the Tanti are clear.
Zenzele tensed upon our makeshift throne, watching intently, waiting for my signal. Bhorg rested his hammer upon his shoulder, looking at the sky. To my left, Hammon and Eris took up their positions. Usus, idling in the crowd, placed his hands upon his blades.
Edron saw none of these things. He was too gleeful, too assured of his victory. He believed his master had outwitted me again, sentimental fool that I am!
And then I sensed the Eye, hovering somewhere overhead. Khronos. Watching from his mountain stronghold. Did he, too, believe that he’d outfoxed me? That I was actually falling for the same old trick?
What I do, I do for the good of the whole, I said to myself.
The Tanti did not move when they were freed. They did not react in any way at all, just stood there meekly, shoulders slumped, like beaten animals. I nodded to Neolas, and he and several of his blood priests stepped forward, taking the Tanti gently by the arms.
Forgive me, ancestors, for what I do tonight, I prayed.
The hostages stared blankly at the men who had taken them in hand, uncomprehending. I was afraid for a moment they might resist my abuellas, that something might break in them now that they’d been freed. The last thing I needed was for them to defy the very men who were trying to rescue them.
But the Tanti hostages did not rebel. They shuffled obediently after the priests, broken but safe, dispirited but alive!
I watched them as they were led from the Temple, heart in my throat, and then, when they had vanished into the crowd, I turned my attention to Master Edron.
Irema, Aioa, forgive me.
Edron gazed up at me, eyes glinting, still smiling that self-satisfied smile. “Of course, the God King wishes to negotiate the terms of the treaty himself,” he said. “I’ve been given leave to deliver his proposal, but--”
“Oh, there’s no longer any need for that,” I said, cutting him off.
“What do you mean?” the old man said with a scowl.
“My terms are quite simple,” I said. “You must die so that we can live in peace.”
In my mind’s eye, I saw the God King’s majordomo helping to destroy my son. I saw Ilio flailing about as Khronos’s courtiers tugged him to and fro. I saw Master Edron cackling, slashing at the boy with his sharp-nailed fingers, eyes blazing with hatred, with the sadistic pleasure of hurting, maiming, killing. At the last, Ilio had reached out to me, blood streaked hand trembling. “Father!” he had sobbed, and then another brutal Master had ripped his head from his neck.
I extended my right arm, hand open. Drago pitched the bladed staff to me. My fingers closed around the shaft the instant it smacked against my palm. Giving the old man no time to react, or even to fully absorb what I’d said, I stepped forward and cleaved his head from his shoulders.
It was an Uroboran halberd, a bladed staff some seven feet in length. A vicious killing instrument, the metal blade of the weapon had been sharpened to a razor-fine keenness. It passed through the Eternal’s neck with little resistance, cutting through flesh and bone as if they were air. So smoothly did I separate the master’s head from his body that his head stayed perched upon the stump of his neck for a moment, jaw dropping open in surprise. He ogled me in mute disbelief, eyes bulging from their sockets, and then I sprang forward, before the Eternal’s Living Blood could repair the grievous injury, and kicked him squarely in the chest.
Edron’s body flew backwards while his head toppled forward onto the ground. That ridiculous headdress went bouncing away, revealing a moly gray skull fuzzed with scraggly yellow hair.
I am sorry, my Tanti children. I have condemned you.
The God King’s Eye blazed in shock and indignation. Pure hatred radiated from his invisible presence like a crimson light. It washed over me in wave after blistering wave. It was like standing before a roaring fire. I could almost feel my cheeks tightening from the heat.
And now he will go down into the Shol, I thought. He will slaughter my people, or send his men to do it. He will kill them all, every last man, woman and child. I have murdered my own mortal offspring.
For the good of the whole.
But, oh, ancestors, the price!
Even before Edron had twitched his last twitch, my forces fell upon the Uroborans.
Bhorg leapt down from the platform and crushed four of Edron’s guards with a single sweep of his great hammer. He swung his hammer again and three more Uroborans went twirling into the air. Zenzele flew down from our makeshift throne and beheaded one of Edron’s attendants with a sweep of her arm. She sprang onto the shoulders of another, thighs clamped around his neck, and tore off his head. Eris and Usus waded in, slashing at their opponents with their blades. Hammon used a halberd to slice one of the Uroboran soldiers neatly in half. Rayna speared two more right through the head. All the while, our elite guard battled the Uroboran escort, employing techniques we had honed for twenty years to take our enemies apart. Quickly. Efficiently. Mercilessly.
The decadent Uroborans, though vicious and depraved, were long accustomed to unquestioning obedience. Used to dealing with slaves and fawning sycophants, our assault caught them completely by surprise. It was so far beyond the realm of their experience they seemed utterly incapable of comprehending what was happening to them, much less mount a proper defense. They fell at our feet like cattle in a slaughterhouse. In the end, only two of them had the wits to attempt an escape.
They leapt up and away from the body-strewn battleground, hoping to escape the deathtrap we’d laid for them. But they could not leap clear of the crowds that surrounded the temple. Dozens of mortal hands caught ahold of them the moment they touched the ground. In an instant, the Uroborans were overwhelmed by the howling mob. Beaten down, engulfed, and masticated by the bloodthirsty horde. I watched as the mob flung pieces of their rent bodies high into the air. Arms. Legs. A head, mouth and eyes perfect O’s of shocked disbelief. I might have felt pity for the unfortunate fellows if I had not just sacrificed my own mortal descendants.
Only six, I thought. That is all that remains. Trying to wrap my brain around the idea. To believe it. To accept it.
I had sacrificed my own mortal bloodline, the descendants of my cherished mates. Brulde. Eyya. Nyala. Our great to the Nth degree grandchildren. The very thing I had sworn always to protect.
For the good of the whole.
I made my way down the steps of the dais, taking my time, letting Khronos watch, letting him rage. Every moment I delayed, every moment I kept the God King occupied, was another moment of life for my beloved Tanti brethren. Another breath. Another heartbeat. Another chance to love. To feel joy and pain. To laugh. To cry.
I bent at the knees and grasped Edron’s head, curling my fingers in his scraggly yellow hair. Defiantly, I raised it up. I raised it up for Khronos to see, to rage over, to roar. The mob that surrounded the temple let out a great cheer at the sight of the Eternal’s head, but I was only dimly aware of their ecstatic ov
ation. For a moment, it seemed I could actually see the God King’s Eye, a vast and bloodshot orb with waggling black tentacles. The pupil was slit like the eye of a reptile, and from it a terrible vermillion light blazed forth, an awful red dying light, like the blood of a diseased man, or the last ray of light on the last day of creation.
“As the servant, so too the master!” I shouted into that searing radiance.
And then I thrust Edron’s head onto the blade of my staff and held it up. I held it aloft, so that all good men could see, all good men could know:
The blood gods of Uroboros could be defeated. Even the elite!
“To war!” I howled.
9
Taking up our courage, taking up our weapons and banners, we marched for Uroboros.
It was perhaps a day or two too soon. There were still two outranging patrols that had yet to return, but my act of defiance, beheading the God King’s majordomo, had enflamed the passions of the citizenry. Before, there had been the understanding that we must fight, even though the odds were stacked against us. Now there was a feeling that we could-- we would-- vanquish our enemies. That sudden shining optimism, the conviction that fate now smiled favorably upon us, had an irresistible momentum, and I was unwilling to let it pass.
The mortal denizens of Asharoth were delirious with excitement. The God King had haunted them all of their lives. His slavers had hounded them, his Masters had subjugated them and his minions had fed upon them like ravenous leeches, for generation after generation. And now we would challenge them. Now we would cast them down from their mountain. Now we would sweep away the shadow that had lain upon the world for as long as mortal man’s recall.
We were going to bring it all to an end!
Our mortal brothers and sisters followed us from the city, singing our praises, casting flowers onto our path. They laughed and danced with us, shouting encouragement and blessings. A handful of mortal children, who were up way past their bedtime, raced beside us with their little bows and spears. Mortal men took up arms and fell into step at our side. Their wives dragged at their waists, pleading with them to stay, but they would not be turned from their intent, not by tears, not by curses, not by promises or threats. War had come, and though they had chosen to live their lives in the sun, they felt that they must fight. For their wives, who begged them not to go. For their children with their little bows and spears.
I marched at the head of this lunatic parade, pumping Edron’s skull in the air like a drum major’s baton. Even as I marched, my couriers went racing away with his Divided body. “Take the pieces to the ends of the earth,” I told them. “I care not where you hide them, but choose the places well, and tell no one where you have hidden them!”
Zenzele marched at my side, wagging her arms energetically, eyes set on Uroboros. Vehnfear loped ahead of us, tail stiff with excitement. Our generals came and went as we summoned them to us and sent them away with fresh orders.
“Take your units north as soon as you are clear of the pass,” I said to Rayna as she jogged alongside me. “I want you to cross up and around the great riverlands before heading to Fen’Dagher. Join with Tapas and his men if you can find them. Your only concern is the liberation of the Tanti. Get them away from Uroboros. If the God King has already disposed of them-- and I’m fairly certain he will-- then you are to liberate as many slaves as you can. Wreak havoc. Spare no one but the slave caste and any allies Irema may have found.”
Rayna nodded briskly at each point.
“Show our enemies no mercy,” I said to her. “This is the end, Rayna. It is us or them, our peace or their rule.”
“No mercy,” she said, and dashed away to join her squad.
I had little hope that Khronos would spare the Tanti. In striking down Master Edron, I had shown the God King that there would be no bargaining, no brokering for peace, and that made them useless to him. My only hope was that he would be so preoccupied readying his troops for battle that he forgot all about them. Slim hope, I know, but I clung stubbornly to it. I refused to give them up until I knew their fate for certain. So far Aioa had had no visions. And Zenzele could not use her Eye. Every time she sent it out, hoping to spy on our enemies, the God King immediately and ferociously rebuffed her.
We crossed the White Snake, leaping across its foaming cataracts. It was an awesome sight, hundreds of immortals taking to the air at once, soaring across the winding river in their vast numbers. The way they bound over the waterway was very fluid-like itself. It was as if one river were springing up over the other. I could not help but stop and stare. The sound of their passage was very fluid-like, too: the rumble of a great waterfall. It resounded in the air like a physical thing. I could feel it humming in my skin, making my teeth chatter.
What must Khronos be thinking, I wondered, to see this great mass of immortals coming to wage war on him? To know that this awesome host was united by a single ambition: his complete and utter destruction?
I know what I would be doing. I would be trying to decide which direction to run.
But that, I knew, was not what Khronos was doing.
He would be organizing his defenses, mobilizing his troops. He would be scheming and setting traps. So arrogant was he that it probably wouldn’t even occur to him that he might lose this war.
I knew this as I knew my own heart. I had tasted his Blood. The tainted residue of his personality, and all of his memories, resided in my mind like a malicious spirit haunting a dark cave.
He would be just as contemptuous as ever.
And just as overconfident.
I wished I could see into Uroboros as Khronos could spy upon us. It would be good to know what defenses he was erecting, where he was placing his troops, how he planned to meet us in battle. But I would not ask Zenzele to send out her Eye again. Each time she did, Khronos sensed her invisible presence and lashed out viciously at her, and his mental powers were much more potent than hers. He had had twenty thousand years to hone them. Each attack left Zenzele visibly shaken, drained her of her vitality, and I needed her to be strong. I needed her to be fierce.
We will take it as it comes, I said to myself. Whatever tactics he chose to employ. Whatever deceptions he devised. We would meet them head on, and we would overcome them. Or we would fail and be destroyed.
Please, ancestors, look favorably upon me, I prayed. Give me your wisdom! Help me to defeat my enemies!
“The mortals have fallen behind,” Zenzele said, looking over her shoulder. “They cannot keep up.”
“I did not expect them to,” I replied.
“They may become a hindrance to us.”
“I know, but I will not order them to turn back. I doubt if they’d obey me even if I did. This is as much their fight as it is ours.”
Though I did not speak it aloud, I was very proud of the mortal men and women who had decided to join us in battle. In truth, they were far braver than we immortals. All of them could die. Many of us could not. I felt it would be a great dishonor to deprive them of this moment, this chance to rid the world of the blight that was the God King.
“We could carry them,” Zenzele suggested. “Help them to keep up.”
“No,” I answered. “Let them fall behind. Perhaps it will keep them out of harm’s way. I respect their desire to join us in this fight, but we cannot allow ourselves to be distracted by them. They live and die by their own resolve, the same as any of us.”
She nodded.
We traversed the narrow western pass then, crossing into the broad flat grasslands of the Russian steppe. The air there was cool and crisp, the sky clear and the stars very bright and distinct. The moon, nearly full, looked close enough to reach out and pluck from the heavens, like a ripe fruit. We waited as the rest of our troops moved slowly through the pass, for it was something of a bottleneck, despite the fact that our soldiers could quite literally climb the walls. Many of them chose to scamper over the mountains, clinging to the near vertical surfaces like insects, rather than bunch
up with the others on the ground. It slowed us down, but we used the time to rest and regroup.
I conferred with my generals as we waited for our army to come through the pass, going over our plans and debating contingency plans should those first plans be somehow thwarted.
“Above all, we must not underestimate Khronos,” I said. “He may be arrogant, but he is also exceedingly cunning. We must expect deceit and trickery. We must be prepared for appalling brutality. He will be fighting for his life, and he will be utterly ruthless.”
Rayna joined us, and Aioa, too.
“My units have come through the pass,” she reported.
I nodded, reiterated her orders and directed her to depart immediately. “May your ancestors show you favor,” I said.
“And you as well,” she said. She embraced her maker Zenzele then. “Mother,” she said. Zenzele kissed her on the cheek, an uncharacteristic display of affection, and then Rayna tromped briskly away, her golden plait swinging between her shoulders.
“I think the rest are very nearly through the pass,” I said.
“Except for the mortals,” Bhorg remarked.
“I expect they’ll need to rest soon,” I said. “We, however, will continue on. The mortals can catch up to us while we sleep through the day.”
Aioa, who had stooped to pet Vehnfear, scowled and touched her brow. She knelt that way for a moment, brow wrinkled, as if she were trying to solve a particularly vexing problem.
I took note of her puzzled expression and broke off from consulting with Neolas. “Aioa, what is it?” I asked.
Her eyes bulged. “Oh, no!” she cried out. “Oh, no! No, please!”
“Tell me what you see!”
I went to her, raised her up by the arms. Blood tears streaked down her cheeks as she stared at me-- stared through me-- seeing through her sister’s eyes. “Oh, grandfather!” she sobbed. “It is happening! They are slaughtering the Tanti!”
The Oldest Living Vampire Unleashed Page 16