Scales of the Serpent

by Richard A. Knaak

  From the direction of his foe came another shriek, followed by the thumping of a body against what Uldyssian believed rock. The shrieking continued, but with a pained tone to it. Thumping accompanied the cry, as if the winged beast was going through convulsions.

  Rathma somehow cut through the multitude of squeals. “Uldyssian! Back up to my voice!”

  Uldyssian obeyed. An anxious breath later, he collided with what he hoped was the pale figure.

  The ivory dagger flashed before Uldyssian’s pained eyes. Before he could react, he heard Rathma chant something.

  The dagger flared, blinding Uldyssian. He wondered if he had been duped all along, that Rathma had brought him here at Lilith’s request so that she could humiliate him one last time before he perished.

  Yet after that moment of blindness, Uldyssian’s eyesight not only returned, but became normal…something even he, with his powers, had not been able to accomplish. Now he could see well enough to turn from the tunnel.

  And what he saw left him dead in his tracks.

  The cavern he stood within dwarfed the previous one. It dropped deep below as well as rose high above. Rathma and he stood on what was actually some wide, ancient platform carved from stone. It was several yards long and at the end stretched to each side. Uldyssian realized that if the creatures had driven him much farther to the right, he would have fallen to his doom.

  A low wall lined the platform and at the corners were small constructions built like step pyramids. Atop each glowed a tiny—and in this chamber—insignificant light.

  The chamber’s own color reminded Uldyssian of a living heart fresh with blood. He only studied that aspect for a moment, though, for that which was the focus of this place now demanded his absolute attention.

  It resembled some of the crystalline formations that, as a boy, Uldyssian had found in the small caves at home, but none of those had stood well over a hundred feet high—perhaps even more than two hundred, since the base was too deep down to view—consisting of several monoliths jutting in a dozen different directions. Unlike the formations he recalled, this behemoth had a harshness to its look, with its jagged appearance and frightening crimson color.

  Each facet of the gargantuan formation contained thousands of minute ones. From within it emanated not only the illumination that had so burnt Uldyssian’s eyes, but, deeper yet, flashes of multicolored lightning. The overall light from the great crystal not only extended the entire length and breadth of the cavern—itself vast enough to fit the village of Seram and its surrounding lands within at least twenty times over—but looked as if it seeped through the very stone walls.

  With each burst of lightning, the formation pulsated and at last Uldyssian understood the source of the “breathing.”

  There came another ear-tearing, shattering sound. Uldyssian looked up and for the first time noticed that smaller fragments of the crystal—”smaller” as in only two or three times his height and width—floated around much of the cavern in seemingly random directions. The harsh noise had come from two such pieces colliding. The broken fragments spilled around—and then began to re-form in different designs.

  All this Uldyssian drank in in only a few scant seconds. Then, a more immediate and highly grotesque sight took Uldyssian’s attention from the astounding crystal. Four winged furies with heads resembling skinned hounds dove down at him from various points above. The creatures had savage teeth and ears long and wide. Their snouts were fat, with wide nostrils. The only thing the heads lacked were eyes. There were not even gaps where the eyes should have been. It was almost as if whatever had created them had forgone such on purpose.

  Perhaps that was not far from the truth. Of what use were eyes in this place, where only Rathma’s magic had enabled Uldyssian to see anything. Of better use were the huge ears and the nostrils, which could ferret out any prey entering.

  Each of the beasts had a wingspan of at least six feet, and like the bats they somewhat resembled in shape, those wings were also their hands. Yet, unlike bats, the claws of these aberrations were each longer than Uldyssian’s hand and so razor-sharp that to be cut by them even once would surely cause a gaping, dangerous wound.

  Uldyssian cupped his hand. A blue energy formed over his palm. He threw it at the nearest of the fiends.

  The blue energy engulfed its target…and vanished in a puff. The winged fury shook its head, stunned but otherwise unhindered. Certainly not turned to ash, as Uldyssian had assumed it would be.

  Startled by this failure, he barely recovered in time to re-create the shield. Even that was not as strong as it generally was, and with three—then four—assailing it, Uldyssian began to sweat.

  It was Rathma, naturally, who supplied an answer. From farther in, Lilith’s son—his vast cloak seeming to provide him with the same protection as Uldyssian’s barrier—shouted, “Your powers are dampened here! It is the effect of the crystal! You must focus harder, whatever you attempt!”

  Cursing the other for not having told him this before they had entered, Uldyssian concentrated more on the barrier. By now, seven of the bizarre beasts fluttered about him, each seeking to shred his flesh. Up close, he saw that they had no true bodies whatsoever. There were the shriveled remnants of a torso and what might have been vestigial legs. The creatures were essentially composed of wings and head. Uldyssian wondered whether they even ate…then decided such a question was one for which he would prefer not to have an answer.

  Mouths snapped at his face, sometimes coming much closer than he desired. Forcing himself to calm down despite the frenzied efforts of his attackers, Uldyssian wondered how best to defend himself. What he had assumed a deadly attack had failed miserably. Uldyssian had to choose well, for when he struck, his shield would also weaken. Even with his recuperative powers, he doubted that he would survive long should even one beast manage a slash.

  In the end, there was only one strategy that came to mind, a variation on something he had done earlier. Drawing himself up, Uldyssian took a deep breath…and whistled.

  To his own ears—and hopefully to Rathma’s as well—all he did was let out a long, loud, single note. Certain that his efforts would again be muted by the massive crystal, the son of Diomedes concentrated as much of his will as he dared—possibly even more—into the whistle. As he did, he felt a wing brush against his shoulder…

  But in the next instant, just as what felt like a claw touched his arm, every winged monster around Uldyssian let out a bloodcurdling shriek. They pulled back from him, then whirled around as if entirely mad. Two immediately collided, but instead of merely separating, tore at each other as they had at the human. Another crashed into the rocky wall of the cavern, then repeated the accident over and over until it finally crashed on the floor.

  Three others simply dropped to the ground, where they screeched and shook their heads as if trying to remove something.

  “I would not have believed it if I had not witnessed it,” Rathma called in his ear. The cowled figure stepped up next to Uldyssian. “What you did should not have been possible for you in this of all places.”

  “I just followed your advice. I just concentrated harder. It worked.”

  “It should not have…especially not to this degree. Look around you, Uldyssian ul-Diomed. Look around you and see the truth of that.”

  Uldyssian did as he was bade…and his eyes widened at the results of his desperate attempt.

  More than three score creatures either flew or lay in states of chaos. Two collided with floating fragments. Several fought furiously with one another, while others on the ground twitched wildly. At least two were savagely biting themselves to such a degree that their deaths were certain.

  Then, two in aerial combat dropped. A moment later, some of those on the floor stilled. As Uldyssian looked around, the cavern’s denizens one by one simply fell to the ground…and died.

  “I don’t—I don’t understand…”

  Rathma shrugged as if it should all make perfect sense to an
yone. There was a red scar on his chin and a tear in his garments just above where Uldyssian supposed his heart should be. The creatures had gotten closer to slaying the ancient being than they had the son of Diomedes. “You recalled their similarity to bats, obviously. You imagined that, if you whistled loud and used the power within to amplify it, you would at least injure or confuse some…yes?”

  “Yes…but…I thought I might succeed with those before me, but…”

  “You should have been fortunate to do that, even with my warning.” Rathma shook his head. “Uldyssian ul-Diomed, you are not what you should be.” He looked over his shoulder. “And the reason for that must have to do with you…”

  That to which Lilith’s son referred was none other than the vast, menacing crystal. Even with bat creatures perishing all around them, Uldyssian could not help but again stare in fascination at it. Never could he have imagined such a thing existing.

  “What is it?” he at last asked. “Why is it here?”

  Rathma gestured at the floating giant. “It is the reason why no nephalem or anything akin to it has risen lo these many centuries, my friend. It is the reason why you and yours should not exist! You stand before the curse of all the descendants of those angels and demons who forged Sanctuary! You stand before the Worldstone…”

  Merely hearing the name sent an involuntary shiver through Uldyssian, as if some part of him should have always known of this incredible artifact…known of it and rightly feared its existence.

  Even with the aid of Rathma’s spell, the Worldstone was hard to eye directly. Uldyssian discovered that he could best observe it by glancing slightly to the side. Even then, it sparkled as if reflecting a hundred red suns.

  “Inarius thought the nephalem a disease, a disgrace to what he was. To him, we should have never been. He only agreed to consider our fate as opposed to erasing us from existence because of the protests of the others. I feel that he would have yet chosen to follow through with his original intention if not for my mother murdering the other refugees. That act altered everything. Had Inarius exterminated us afterward, then he would have been all alone, something which even he could not stand. Yet, the notion of the nephalem disgusted him and that is why he took the Worldstone—which had been created in great part as a manner by which to hide Sanctuary from the eyes of the High Heavens and the Burning Hells—and altered its resonance.”

  Uldyssian had been trying to follow Rathma’s tale as best as possible, but did not understand the last at all. “What does that mean? What would that do?”

  “What it means is thus; in addition to secreting this realm, the Worldstone also began a steady and subtle dampening process. Each succeeding generation of nephalem became far less powerful than the previous, until, in very short order, those next born were bereft of any ability. Soon, only a few from the first generation—myself and Bul-Kathos, to name the obvious—survived. The gifts—or curse—of our forebears was forgotten. Inarius began reshaping Sanctuary to his satisfaction…and to his iron rule.”

  Uldyssian could feel the Worldstone’s radiance and did not doubt that it had the ability to utterly smother his powers. Yet, why was it not doing so now?

  “This is the work of Lilith,” Rathma quietly declared.

  “Do you read my mind?”

  The demoness’s son shook his head. “I read…sensations. It is almost like reading thoughts, but far more accurate, for thoughts can be filled with lies.”

  Once again confused, Uldyssian turned back to the subject at hand. “What’s she done?”

  “Clearly, my mother altered the resonance of the Worldstone again, so that now its effect is minimal and limited more or less to Mount Arreat, if that. Even in its presence, you were able to overcome it. With the Worldstone no longer a hindrance, the natural process enabling the nephalem powers could now flourish. You are the result of that…the first, anyway.”

  The more he stood near it, the more Uldyssian sensed the Worldstone’s emanations. He imagined them a thousand times greater…no, a thousand thousand times. What Rathma had said made more sense. With such mighty forces sweeping over Sanctuary, his kind would surely never have come into existence. Only Lilith’s interference had changed that.

  He suddenly cursed the artifact, hating it for having smothered the potential of all humans, hating it for failing that duty and forcing him and his followers into their current desperate situation.

  Then, something occurred to him. “Rathma…could it be altered again?”

  “A question I have pondered and the true reason we are here, son of Diomedes.” The black-cloaked figure gestured toward the Worldstone. “What would you have of it? Would you return to what you once were? Make yourself somehow more mighty? Tell me, Uldyssian ul-Diomed…”

  Uldyssian would have liked desperately to unmake all that had happened to him, to somehow return to the day before Lilith had entered his life and begun his trials. Yet he doubted that even the Worldstone was capable of that. At most, it would remove from him and the others the nephalem gifts. Unfortunately, it would not remove the threat of the Triune, now surely determined to deal with those defying its will and existence. Moreover, he doubted that the angel Inarius would let things be, either.

  Which left only one option…

  “Can the Worldstone really be altered to make us more powerful?”

  “No, not directly, but it can be altered to encourage the gifts’ growth. That would, in essence, result in much the same of what you desire.”

  To Uldyssian, that was all that mattered. “Tell me what I can do.”

  “This is the Worldstone. For you to achieve what you desire, you must think it. The crystal will either accept your will or deny it.”

  “That simple?”

  Rathma grimaced. “No…not in the least.”

  Tired of his companion’s murky and often contradictory statements, Uldyssian turned his complete focus on the huge crystal. The Worldstone pulsated almost hypnotically.

  You must think it…Rathma had said. Uldyssian tried to clear his thoughts, then concentrated on what he wished.

  We need to be stronger, he told the Worldstone. We need our powers to grow faster…

  The Worldstone did not outwardly change in any way, but Uldyssian felt something within start to shift in response to his probing. He repeated his desire, emphasizing the need for more power and quickly.

  But the slight shifting of—of the resonance?—went no further. Try as he might, Uldyssian could not do more. Although he forced every iota of his will upon the Worldstone, in the end it was he who fell back gasping and defeated.

  Rathma’s gloved hands took hold of his arm. Sweating and furious, Uldyssian glared at his companion.

  Lilith’s son wore an expression of utter shock.

  That, in turn, left Uldyssian momentarily gaping. He had never seen such a show of raw emotion from Rathma.

  “What’s wrong?” he finally managed to ask. “Is there danger?”

  “The Worldstone…” the pale figure whispered almost reverently. The narrow eyes darted from Uldyssian to the gleaming artifact and then back to the human. “I wanted to see…but I never expected…it was a theory…no more than that…no more…”

  Again, he made no sense to Uldyssian, especially after a glance at the gargantuan crystal revealed nothing changed. “What’re you talking about? I failed.”

  “Do not look with your eyes…look with your mind and soul.”

  Brow furrowed, Uldyssian stared again at the Worldstone, but this time also delved into it using other senses. He still found nothing different; the Worldstone reverberated as it had before, not even the slightest—

  No…there was a hint of a change, so intricate that it was no surprise that he had earlier missed it. But such an alteration could hardly cause any worthwhile effect…could it?

  “I did something after all. Not much. Will it mean anything?”

  Rathma uttered a sound, then murmured, “Observe the structure of the artifact, Uldy
ssian. Observe it at the very core. You can do that…”

  Uldyssian concentrated more…and found himself staring deep within the Worldstone. He saw the fine, crystalline pattern that made up the fantastic formation and marveled at the minute details. Tiny, five-sided segments multiplied endlessly and formed the stone’s most basic structure. Uldyssian could not help but admire their perfection. That the artifact had been created as opposed to being a natural formation astounded him so much that he briefly forgot the trouble it had caused him.

  But none of this had to do with his search. He was about to give up when one small area near the heart caught his attention. There was something not right about it. Immediately, Uldyssian knew that this was the source of the alteration in the Worldstone’s resonance. He thrust his mind deeper, seeing more detail—

  Seeing where the rest of the Worldstone was composed of a five-sided pattern, this one part had six edges.

  What had been perfect, was now flawed…impossibly so.

  He withdrew immediately. “Lilith’s work—”

  “No, son of Diomedes…your work.” Rathma’s gaze burrowed into him. “My mother altered the resonance through a spell, which affected outcome but not structure. I expect you to do the same, or more likely, fail. It was a desperate chance, but one I felt worthy. You had been cast this near the Worldstone for a reason, I thought…”

  “It was an accident that I came here.”

  “Have you not discovered yet that there are no accidents?” the shrouded figure returned. “I did not know what to expect, but certainly not this. Uldyssian ul-Diomed, you have altered the very essence of the Worldstone, something that should not be possible…” Rathma frowned. “And whether that means good or ill for our hopes, I fear that we can only wait…and pray…”

  Fourteen

  Achilios stirred. He did not wake, for the suggestion of waking itself referred to sleep, which was an impossibility for one in his state.

  Yet he had not been conscious. As the archer slowly pushed his face from the muddy jungle soil, he wondered what had happened to him. Achilios recalled the tentacles of the Triune’s demonic servant starting to pull him asunder, but after that, it was all a blank.