There, in a contorting pile of black flames, was a squirming form. I saw wings, Nochtilian wings, and a clawed hand trying to grow out of the sludge. One of his children, Kashtamias the knight of Hell, had been slain and sent back to Infiernum. I tried not to smile, but inside my deepest concealed thoughts, I felt a small measure of joy. For I had seen it, viewing the world in secret with powers I was forbidden from using, and I knew who it was that had defeated him.
“My Lord and elder, your son was slain by a sacred blade of Alden, by a cursed elf on the mortal world.” Cancuru knelt behind me.
The second born son of God, ruler of the endless lake of insanity, Lake Holavis, was nearly as tall as Shukuru. His body was white, covered in black bones of armor, and his eyes were as swirling flames. One look, one stare, would cause nightmares that could last mortal lifetimes from his eyes, even unto other immortals. I looked to his chest, to the triangle of flames that burned there, and did not meet his eyes. I had once, long ago, and once had been enough.
“Who is this elf?” Shukuru paced now, back and forth, walking with his green steel flaming trident, watching Kashtamias struggle and reform on the burned rock floor. It would take decades, I had seen it before.
“Kendari, a cursed of Seirena, the Nadderi curse, brother---“
“And cursed by you, your whore Nareene, he is one of hers. And somehow, he has slain my son. Interesting.” Shukuru grew queit and still, which was worse than his anger.
“Brother, I had nothing to do with this, you must know that.” Cancuru stood, trembling, but he faced his brother with resolve.
“No, but I sense you have more to tell me. More has happened. Would you elaborate what your whores have seen on the mortal world?” The Lord of Hell looked to Cancuru, red holes burned from his gaze, melting pinpoints through immortal flesh.
“Our Gimmorian sister, Arabashiel, has been slain as well. And, the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon is free from the curse and the judgement of God, our father.”
“Who, dare I ask, is responsible for such blasphemies?”
“A dwarven priest, a mortal, yet a mighty worshipper of Vundren.” Cancuru stepped back from the stare and his burning flesh began to heal. “There is more.”
“Do tell, little brother.”
I sat still, kneeling between the Nochtilian immortal brothers, listening to what I already knew.
“Annar has returned to Castle Gihrasa, he has been freed from his imprisonment.”
“I expect he enjoyed the view of his heaven, the one you and I burned to ashes?” Shukuru laughed, and the flames for miles around roared into the black airs of hell.
“He was most angry, yet his power, as per the curse of God, has passed to another. A minotaur named Saberrak, who was also seen in the Kingdom of the Crescent Moon. That is not all, brother.” Cancuru stepped back again, feeling the anger in each breath from his elder.
“Let me venture a guess. Haddius?” Shukuru flapped his wings, the dust burned my skin, but I remained silent and on a knee.
“Yes, brother. He was released. An elven woman of Siril, and a man blessed by Seirena yet who prays to Alden, the minotaur, the dwarven priest, and a woman that practices the arcane of the white moon, they were all there. It seems---“
“It would be obvious to a blind man!” Shukuru roared and Cancuru fell back and smoldered until he knelt. “The Caricians have sent their mortals, chose them and aligned them in secret, and have declared open war upon us, brother!”
“I am not certain if that is---“
“I am! Siril sent his elven woman, Seirena sent her blessed knight and a cursed elf upon us, Annar passed his power, and Vundren took action against Gimmor. They released the city, two Caricians, killed my son, and destroyed Arabashiel! And you are not sure?! It has begun, brother, and they have struck the first blows! And you watch and wonder in your insanity above the abyssal lake! Your priestesses are to watch, to take souls to kill and watch more, as we cannot enter the mortal world! They see to prevent these very things! You have failed us, and failed our father! Now, we must fight, brother!” Shukuru roared his decrees, thousands screamed as the winds of his voice melted them from the hanging green chains above.
“There is more. A woman, a knight we could not see with immortal eyes, she was seen at the---“
“The Soujan Temple? The Knights Soujan have risen as well, brother? And what have you done?” Shukuru whispered, cracks in the rocks followed his words, small chasms of anger crossed the very ground and demons crawled out of them.
“They still have but six of the seven, and they will never find Solumet. The Carician thrones will never be filled, brother.” Cancuru paced, glanced at me, and I glanced away. “We have all eleven of our Nochtilians. In a few decades, Arabashiel will reform, and the Gimmorian council will have the full twenty six. They cannot do anything without Solumet, the firstborn Carician.”
“No, our father has him hidden away, far away. But, our mother Seirena is working with Megos, and the Caricians now have hope, and their unseen guardians as well.” Shukuru paced.
“We could rise up, take the Primalus Defectus, burn it to ash, and make war on the mortal world, brother.” Cancuru smiled.
“And who would take the throne on Gimmor, God’s throne, our father’s throne? Who would have the power to sit and decree it? Only Yjaros has that power, or perhaps his three betraying children. Yet Megos nor Seirena would side with us and allow it to be undone, and She that has no name is gone from this world. So, we cannot. And God is gone, our father wanders the dimensions alone and has left us to maintain the balance of the realms and the judgements he passed.” Shukuru was in deep focus and thought, now glancing at me from time to time.
“So a mortal war again? Send in all of Altestan, His chosen people, the ones we hold sway over in His absence? And we watch from here, never to leave, only to watch and sit? This is forever, where once we sat on the green moon, dined and spoke to our Gimmorian brothers and sisters, and enjoyed immortality. I cannot spend another ten thousand years down here, Shukuru, I have gone insane from the first ten millennia. Soon, I will not be me anymore, and I will meld with the abyss. I have seen it in my future.”
“Sodom, how may centuries do you have left in my service?” Shukuru looked down at me.
“None, your magnificence. This is my last trident, I near the last of my purgatory. Hail Shukuru, firstborn son of God.” I spoke as I had to, hearing of hopes that wanted me to smile, but I did not.
“Why him, brother?” Cancuru looked down at me, I felt it.
“Because he is powerful, he destroyed all of our temples on those mountains once, he knows the way, and I tire of his presence. If we send our own, it allows the Caricians to do the same, and we do not know what forces Alden has in his white heavens. Our little wingless brother has been quiet up there, for too long. We send Sodom to destroy the city of temples, unseen, with this.” Shukuru opened his hand and a green stone and steel ring floated to my finger.
“Gimmorian stone, so the Caricians will not see him and he can travel the stone portals, but what of the Soujan?”
“He has the sword of Mowg, his arcane powers are of a time that this world does not even compare to, and his release hangs on success.” Shukuru smiled and looked at me again with his red glare. “Sodom, you will destroy the city of Mooncrest, kill the ones that opened it, and then come back to me to be released. Should you fail or refuse, I will add another thousand years to your purgatory, in Lake Holavis, with Cancuru where your mind and spirit will twist to nothing and be forgotten. Do you accept?”
“Yes master. Hail Shukuru, firstborn son of God and lord of hell.” I answered quickly, knowing that freedom from here, after two thousand years, was worth anything and everything.
“You see, brother, it is that easy. In any regard, send word to the priests in Altestan, whisper to them to tell their three emperors of all that has occurred. They will finish what is left on Agara in years to come.” Shukuru flew up to his throne, pick
ed a hanging woman from the chains above, and began to eat her alive. He smiled as he chewed, the screams and pouring blood filled the air around him.
“Yes, brother. It shall be done.” Cancuru vanished in a puff of horrid black smoke from behind me.
“What are you waiting for, Sodom? Start walking. I will be watching you very closely.” Shukuru swallowed the head of the woman, her eyes stared in horror at me, yet I turned and started my steps. Then I stopped.
“Hail Shukuru, firstborn son of God.” I knelt fast, then continued as he took another victim from the thousands chained, and began his feast that would last for years.
Through Infiernum I walked, knowing it would take months to wind my way through, many months for each of all seven hells. Then from there I would take the boats of bone across the lake, through the Abyss. I knew Mictalan was right after, the lands of the dead and the lost, and I knew how to get out to the mortal world. My heart raced, my steps were quick, and all my memories flooded back to me. My powers, my blade was across my back, and I would see the fresh air of the mortal world once more. Still, I could not remember her name, the woman I loved, the sister of Seirena and Megos. I saw her face in my mind, with every step…
LCMVXILCMVXILCMVXILCMVXIL
“Lord Sodom? Lord Sodom, wake up Lord Azarris.”
I spun fast, hand raised and glowing with green flames, and I blinked. I felt the fire in my eyes, the red flames of dark protections, it was instinct, as I still thought I was there. It was Ranny the housemaid, she gasped, and stopped touching my shoulder. I had fallen asleep in my son’s room again. My neck ached, from the position on the floor resting between his bed and the wall.
“Sorry, so sorry Ranny. Just a bad dream was all.” I stood quietly, trying not to wake Alessandeir, half his face still covered with the wool blanket. I rubbed my cheek, dismissing the arcane flames right before, and pulled a snag out of my long brown and gray waves as they were tangled inside my robes.
“It is late, my lord, good night.” Ranny put her hand over her heart, looked to my son, and then to me as she backed away.
I had frightened her, I knew it, and her maternal instincts took over inside of her. She likely thought me wicked, with the small spells she had noticed over the last few years, and the one time I caught her in the wine cellar. I sighed.
“Good night, Ranny. I will see you in the morning then.”
“My lord, I must go into Gillian tomorrow, harvest time and all. Perhaps I will see you later in the day. Good night.” Ranny walked away, her hand trembling.
“Damn it.” I whispered to myself. I hoped she would not mention anything to anyone at the church, and I hope I had not been talking in my sleep, escpecially with that vivid dream. I kissed Alessandeir on the forehead. “Good night son, I love you.”
I walked past the halls, down the curving stairs, and looked at the hand and a half blade over the mantle. I kept walking. Down the stairs to the wine cellar, carefully, the wine cellar I did not use at all, for I did not drink. I did not want to start drinking wine or spirits, and did not want my senses dulled, ever. The handle opened with a small squeak, then I closed it.
Snap!
My fingers alerted the candles to light, and orange false flames shone from all around. I slid one rack of long spoiled bottles aside, and pushed the hidden door open. It was dark, black dark, untouchable dark and cold down here.
“Viashe.” I whispered, and lights of blue and gold came alive all around me. They brought to life my tomes and books, both of old arcane and ancient history. Some were even religious, even blasphemous in many countries. The lights showed staves and wands, old tapestries, some of mine and some of the real Azarris lineage that I supposedly was the heir to.
Then there were the rings, one green stone, and one white stone, both on a small pedestal. I kept them here, knowing no one could see me in my hidden exile through any means. I had never returned to hell, never destroyed the city, but I did go there as ordered. I smiled, recalling when I first set foot into Mooncrest and saw the---
Creak
I looked up, having just sat in my chair, alone in my hidden sanctuary. I did not turn, I knew who it was behind me.
“Son, you were supposed to be sleeping.” I whispered as little footsteps dragging a wool blanket neared me. I picked up my boy, and sat him in my lap, letting him rest to a side in my arms.
“Dada, what is umm, this place and all umm this stuff?” He mumbled, still half asleep.
“My secret study. Now, it is yours and mine, for you know of it.” I rocked him back to sleep, deciding that would be better than moving him should I care to not wake his mind further.
“Who is that?” He pointed to a statue, a stone bust of a woman’s face. I had been working on it for years, trying to remember. “That does not look like mom.”
“No son, it is not. That is one of the Goddesses, but I cannot remember her name. It was long before I met your mother, long, long before.” I tossed a cloth over it, over the woman that I had been damned for loving, and her for loving me. One that I would never again know the name of, but maybe I would find it, someday.
“She is beautiful, can we meet her?”
“I do not know, son. Perhaps, if I can find her.”
“Tell me more about Mooncrest, and Gwenne, dada.”
“Tomorrow son, I promise, tomorrow.” I carried my son back upstairs. “I will tell you everything I know of Gwenneth Lazlette, the Staff of Imoch, and the Tower of Carrados and…”
He was asleep again, in his room, under the moons. I slept next to him, guarding him carefully in the night, and watching his every little breath. He was my reason to live, to carry on in a mortal life, and he was my most valued treasure. All that had been good, pure, and of value in me, was now in my son. I told him stories, true tales of the Gods above and their heroes here on the ground. I had no history of honor, of chivalry, or of selfless sacrifice to pass on to him. Those experiences never graced me, in all my years. But, I knew of others, far away that I had met, and I hoped he would learn from them, as I had. The hardest and most humbling thing for me to admit as a father, was that I hoped my son would not turn out to be like me.
“Good night son, sweet dreams.” I whispered as my eyes teared, just a bit.
“Good night dada, I love you.” His little hand curled in mine, and I felt again the reason to live.“Thank you for all the stories.”
642
Table of Contents
Title
Dedication
Forward
Prologue
Introduction
Chapter1
Chapter2
Chapter3
Chapter4
Chapter5
Chapter6
Chapter7
Chapter8
Chapter9
Chapter10
Chapter11
Chapter12
Chapter13
Chapter14
Chapter15
Chapter16
Chapter17
Chapter18
Chapter19
Chapter20
Chapter21
Chapter22
Chapter23
Chapter24
Chapter25
Chapter26
Chapter27
Chapter28
Chapter29
Chapter30
Chapter31
Chapter32
Chapter33
Chapter34
Chapter35
Chapter36
Chapter37
Chapter38
Chapter39
Chapter40
Author
Gratitude
Epilogue
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The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth Page 61