Scales of the Serpent

by Richard A. Knaak

  But now, alerted silently by Uldyssian, they straightened in disbelief. Eyes turned to where the raven-haired woman had stood.

  And to Uldyssian’s astonishment, Serenthia and her kidnappers reappeared.

  She stood as if some mystical spirit summoned to the mortal plane. Around her there once again glowed the aura. Her hair flew about, as if caught up in a storm. A grim smile crossed her face.

  The glow about her shot without warning toward the figures holding her hands. Hissing escaped both the young girl and the elderly male, an inhuman hissing. In the blink of an eye, their skin burned away and as it did, both their shapes and height severely altered…until the two morlu stood revealed before the masses.

  “Behold the true face of the servants of the Triune!” Serenthia shouted. “Behold the evil hidden from you all these years!”

  The morlu that had been a child shifted one hand behind it, the bestial warrior’s reflexes like lightning. The hand came forward again, in it a curved blade as long as Uldyssian’s forearm.

  But Serenthia merely eyed the hideous creature as he attacked. The blade dissipated to ash as it reached her chest, leaving the dust to blow back in the startled morlu’s black eye sockets.

  Serenthia let go of the undead warrior…who suddenly flung up and over the crowd as if a leaf caught in a tremendous gust. He rose higher and higher, finally crashing into the roof of a building some distance away.

  While this had gone on, the second morlu had remained oddly still. The reason for that Uldyssian knew was again Serenthia. Her aura continued to surround the hapless fiend, who could do nothing as she pulled free his own weapon—and then, with one smooth strike, beheaded him.

  As the corpse toppled, she looked to Uldyssian. “The Triune has declared itself! They leave no choice! We must move against them immediately!”

  He felt her determination mingle with his own. Well aware of the things that the priests might have had in mind for Serenthia, Uldyssian’s anger grew by the second. Still, he swore that he would keep control. Uldyssian wanted no repeat of what had just happened.

  “People of Hashir!” he shouted. “This is the truth of the temple! This is—”

  His head suddenly filled with what he quickly realized was sinister whispering. At the same time, Uldyssian felt a pressure in his skull, as if something sought to squeeze it to pieces. There came unbidden the brief image of a gaunt, bearded man who, despite his elderly appearance, radiated a darkness akin to that of the late, unlamented Malic and was surely another high priest of the Triune.

  Summoning his strength, Uldyssian managed to force the pressure away. Far in the temple, Uldyssian sensed the high priest’s consternation.

  Serenthia was suddenly at his side. She placed a hand against the back of his head, cradling it. “Uldyssian, my love! What are they doing to you?”

  He could not speak, for just then a violent pain coursed through him, so sharp that his heart nearly ceased beating. Vaguely, he registered that Serenthia was still calling to him. Farther away, there were concerned shouts from others.

  Shouts…and then screams. Despite his own dilemma, Uldyssian yet managed to sense that there were more morlu in the immediate vicinity. He tried to rise, but the pain was too intense. Uldyssian managed at least to look up at Serenthia—only her face looked distorted, out of sync.

  His ears filled with more shouts, more screams. At some point, the sky had turned red. Uldyssian could make no sense of it—

  Then, Serenthia cried out as something dark briefly covered her gaze. She fell back from Uldyssian, who would have tumbled to the stone street if not for another pair of hands seizing him tight.

  “I have you,” promised a voice in his ear.

  Mendeln’s voice.

  Before he could react, the world spun around. The cries and other sounds receded, as if Uldyssian now heard them from the end of a vast tunnel.

  At the very last, he heard Serenthia call his name—and then darkness swallowed him.

  Darkness and stars.

  Arihan had absolutely no idea what had gone wrong. Everything had been in place and all the servants had known their roles.

  Capture the woman, the Primus had commanded. Capture her and you place a yoke around the male. Arihan had immediately seen the wisdom of that. One glance through a scrying globe had been enough to reveal just how much the fool cared for his companion. To keep her from harm he would give his soul…exactly what the Triune desired.

  But all accounts had indicated the woman far weaker than she had just revealed. In Hashir, she had displayed abilities that even Uldyssian ul-Diomed had not. Arihan would have sworn that she was actually even more powerful than the man the sect had been battling. Two morlu had not been enough, even cloaked as they had been by a spell given to him by the Primus.

  Through the scrying globe, the priests from Hashir’s temple were frantically asking what was going on. They had no idea yet that the plan had turned into an utter disaster for them. The morlu were evidence enough that the Triune had a darker side than it exhibited and with passions as they were at the moment, Arihan foresaw a violent rush upon the temple that would only end with a bloodbath.

  A painful noise in his head finally made the high priest return to the globe. A harsh exhalation escaped Arihan when he saw what those in charge of Hashir had now wrought. Some fool had decided that, since he had not reacted to the unfortunate turn of events, then they had better do something themselves.

  And so the cretins had sent out the rest of their morlu after the peasant and his followers, not thinking how the Hashiri would react to this further revelation of the Triune’s true calling.

  They are deserving of their fate, the imbeciles! Ignoring any further contact with the priests, Arihan instead surveyed the damage their attempt was causing. Twenty morlu had materialized as if out of thin air among the populace, accompanied by twice that many Peace Warders. However, given orders by those without any good sense, the warriors of the temple were not simply seeking Uldyssian ul-Diomed and his core followers, but anyone near them.

  The high priest frowned, noting a sudden absence of one particular subject. Where was the peasant leader? Where was Uldyssian?

  Arihan could certainly see where the woman was. She stood at the center of things, reveling in the carnage and looking as if an angel reborn. A blazing aura continued to surround her and seemed to spread to other followers even as he watched. They began to beat the morlu and Peace Warders down.

  Hashir is lost! Lost! The bumbling fools had done it, not Arihan. He had followed the plan to the letter, the perfect plan of his master.

  Now…if only the Primus would see it that way…

  No sooner had he thought that than Arihan tried to smother the thought.

  Too late.

  My Arihan…I would see you before me…

  The high priest of Dialon stifled a shiver. He had served the Primus well these many years. There might be some pain involved, but the Primus would certainly not waste such a valuable servant.

  Arihan rose from the stone floor of the meditation chamber he had usurped for his efforts. He dismissed the scrying globe and doused the oil lamps in the walls with the wave of a hand, then, uncharacteristically, rushed from the room. Now would not be a good time to let the master wait, even for a moment. Let him see that the high priest did not fear to come to him.

  The same stolid guards let him pass into the private chambers. Arihan tramped bravely through the darkened outer room, ignoring little sounds around him that he had never noticed in the past. What he could not ignore, however, was a silky material that draped his face just before he reached the inner door.

  The high priest spit out what was in his mouth and wiped away the rest. The gauzy material reminded him of a spider’s webbing, but that could not be. The Primus had always been very fastidious, even in his torturing. Whatever the filmy substance was, it surely had a logical purpose.

  As Arihan wiped the last away, the door opened to admit him.
He stepped through immediately.

  “My Arihan…” came the Primus’s voice. “So good it is that you have come…”

  His face a perfect mask, the high priest bowed toward the voice. “Ever I am at your service, most Holy One.”

  “Ahh, yesss, but how good is that service?” An unsettling green light materialized above the throne, at last revealing the Primus. Although the figure on the throne smiled, there was what Arihan took for strain in the effort.

  “All you’ve asked, I’ve done,” the high priest cautiously returned.

  “And where is the female? Is she on her way to me at this very moment?”

  “Nay, my lord. She is lost because of the fools in Hashir. They underestimated her. It was no fault of mine that the plan did not succeed, Great One.”

  The Primus’s gaze grew terrible. The smile reversed itself. “And is it mine, then?”

  Arihan caught himself. “Of course not! Never could such a thing be! The priests in Hashir were inept in their execution of your grand plot! They misused the morlu and their guards and have brought worse havoc down upon themselves. I fear, most holy lord, that the temple there is lost.”

  “This one is most, most disappointed, my Arihan.” The Primus rose. As he did, the high priest noticed a spider on the wrist of the right hand. It was at least twice as large as the one he had seen on his last visit and surely should have been noticeable by his master. “Most disappointed. Assumptions were made. Promises were made…” Arihan’s master shivered and looked up. “Promises were made…”

  “The female…she was stronger than expected,” the priest offered. “At least as strong as the male. That was something no one knew.”

  Much to his relief, the Primus brightened. “Yesss…that could be useful. He would understand that this could not possibly have been foreseen.”

  Exactly who this other was of whom he spoke, Arihan did not know, but the Primus’s reaction sent a chill through the high priest. There were only three beings that the son of Mephisto would fear…his father and the other two Prime Evils.

  To assuage them, even the Primus would need a scapegoat. Arihan suddenly wondered how best he might flee, well aware that his chances of success in that direction were likely nil.

  Another spider appeared, this one crawling out of the Primus’s collar just as had the one during the previous audience. Arihan belatedly noticed other small and very agitated forms scurrying over the throne…and even over his own feet. What were all these spiders doing here and why did his master react with such indifference to them?

  “My Arihan…” the figure before him murmured. The Primus reached out to the high priest, who had no choice but to step nearer.

  So close, though, Arihan now noticed something wrong with the Primus’s eyes. He had seen Lucion’s true eyes…and these were not them. In fact, so near, it was possible to tell that each was actually composed of three or four separate ones…and all were as crimson as fresh blood.

  “Most Holy One,” he began, seeking some word that would mean his salvation. “It is possible that this woman—”

  But the Primus shook his head. “No, my Arihan. No. The plot—my glorious plot—should have triumphed! He will demand the reason why and she may not be enough—”

  “’He,’ O Great One?” the human blurted, trying to stall for time. The many spells he knew were unlikely to work here, but Arihan had to attempt something. Unfortunately, it was impossible to concentrate for another reason. There were too many spiders, either crawling on the throne, the walls, the Primus—and himself, Arihan discovered—or dangling from the ceiling. Some of them were as large as the high priest’s hand or even larger.

  And at last Arihan recalled what those spiders indicated. He knew what stood before him, disguised as his master. He had never seen the demon, but had, as a young priest, read of him and heard the rumors that the creature dwelled deep in the recesses of the grand temple.

  “Our lord Diablo, my good Arihan…” the false Primus answered to his question. “He it will be that demands not only a reason why, but the one who failed!” As he spoke, the figure’s handsome face began to rip away. Loose threads erupted where the flesh split, threads of silk.

  Spiders’ threads.

  And underneath, was a hairy monstrosity that once Arihan would have gladly summoned, a demon who served the true lord of the high priest’s order.

  “Great One!” he gasped. “Let me go with you to speak with the wondrous Diablo! Together, we can—”

  The robe tore apart as a huge, somewhat manlike shape with eight limbs expanded. Arihan’s desperate suggestion was cut off as four clawed hands seized him and pulled his face within inches of a savage pair of mandibles. Saliva dripped on the high priest’s immaculate garments.

  “Together we shall go, yes, my Arihan, but to present your head on the platter! The head only, yes…for the rest of you this one will need for strength when facing the grand and magnificent Diablo!”

  The mandibles sank into the high priest’s throat, ripping out everything. Arihan had no chance to utter even a gurgle. His head flopped to the side, barely held by some bits of bone and sinew.

  Astrogha swallowed the mouthful, then shifted the body to begin sucking out the precious fluids. What the human did not understand was that the demon had actually done him a tremendous favor, killing him so quickly. Lord Diablo might have made him suffer longer, torturing the puny mortal until he was satisfied that he not only knew everything, but had put Arihan through all that entertained the master of terror.

  But in the process of that, the high priest might have implicated Astrogha in the failure. Even despite having prevented that scenario, the arachnid would have to do some quick thinking to save himself.

  And as he supped, one notion already formulated. Lucion was still absent, Lucion who should have noticed what was afoot and come to add his power to the effort. Yes, somehow this would be steered again toward Lucion…and the female with Uldyssian ul-Diomed, also. Arihan had spoken the truth when he had said that she had revealed more than even the demon had expected. She would become the other focus of Astrogha’s defense…

  At last satiated, he threw the carcass down for the children to finish. Already, Astrogha could sense Diablo awaiting word of his success.

  The demon glanced down at the high priest’s grotesque corpse, already covered by spiders. “Consider yourself fortunate, my Arihan…consider yourself fortunate…this one may yet envy your fate…yes, envy and plead for it to be so merciful…”

  With that, Astrogha opened the way between places, reaching forth into the Burning Hells…

  I have awaited you…came the dread voice.

  The edyrem looked up as one, sensing the call. It was not from the master, but from she who was closest to him. That was enough. Romus waved his hand and they surged toward Hashir. Even those minding the smallest children followed, for the edyrem did not leave anyone behind. The weakest among them would be better protected staying with the rest, even if that meant following them into a struggle…

  And so, there was left only one figure standing in the jungle, one figure who wished with all his might to join the stream of bodies flowing toward the city gates. However, Achilios could not do so, not without creating greater catastrophe.

  It’s…as they said…she’ll take up the reins if he’s gone. The archer had not wanted to believe that, but he should have known that Rathma and the dragon were correct. They seemed to be correct about all things.

  No…not all. They had been wrong about him. They felt that he would be utterly obedient to what they said. Not because they demanded that obedience, but because they assumed the rightness of their decisions made no objection possible.

  But even if a dead man now walking, Achilios was still Achilios. He had considered other courses of action that skirted the choices made by Lilith’s son and the thing called Trag’Oul.

  He had Serenthia to consider…and that was the most important matter of all.

 
Achilios looped his bow tight over his shoulder, then started running. Death had not slowed him, and in fact, he could cover ground much, much faster now. He left little if any trail and could avoid nearly all obstructions.

  From Hashir came screams and the clash of metal. Rathma had granted him abilities necessary to the cloaked one’s demands and so Achilios knew what was going on inside even better than Uldyssian’s edyrem. He also knew very well who was leading the struggle. That made the hunter increase his already astounding pace.

  Around the outskirts of Hashir’s territory he ran, pausing only to avoid the homes of those who lived beyond the city’s walls. At all times, Achilios kept one sight in focus; the three towers of the temple. As with Toraja, the Triune preferred a location that gave them access through a separate gate. To Achilios, that should have been enough to warrant suspicion from anyone concerning them, for what reason would a noble and loving sect have need of a path of escape?

  Of course, to be fair, before his own slaughter, Achilios doubted that even he would have paid much attention. Life had a way of blinding people. Only death seemed to truly open the eyes…

  The gateway he sought finally came into view. One side was already open. The senior priests obviously did not trust their chances at this point. He wondered if they actually thought that their masters would welcome them with open arms after this fiasco. Then again, perhaps the Triune’s true lords would…and then promptly flay all of them alive.

  Achilios decided to save the demons the trouble. Freeing his bow, he reached for an arrow—and found himself staring at a startled Hashiri woman carrying a basket.

  The moment she registered him, the woman shrieked. Achilios could imagine her shock and self-loathing filled him. However, for all he hated how he was, there remained greater priorities.

  “Run…home…” he rumbled. “Go!”

  She did not need more coaxing. Spilling the basket and its contents on the jungle floor, the woman rushed away.