God Wars Box Set Edition: A Dark Fantasy Trilogy

by Mark Eller

  Zorce quieted, smiled, and stepped down from his chariot. Looking toward his mother, Phrandex saw she also remained unaffected by Zorce’s rage; irritating woman.

  “You are out of time,” Zorce told his offspring.

  Zorce walked toward Athos. The underworld shuddered with each step. Castoff diamonds and solid rock exploded beneath his heavy tread. Stopping in front of his son, Zorce stood a head taller, exuding an aura twice as evil. Casually picking up the lesser god by his neck, Zorce shook Athos like he was a recalcitrant hellhound. Even so, Athos refused to yield. His face, petulant and angry, turned a unique shade of purple.

  “You have tried my patience for the last time,” Zorce growled, giving his son’s neck a hard squeeze. Phrandex heard tendons pop.

  Zorce contemptuously tossed Athos to the floor and strode forward to strike Belthethsia with the back of his hand. Bending beneath the blow, her body sailed six feet backward before she hit the ground in a loose heap. Left behind, the singer, still in a huddled mass on the ground, looked up into Zorce’s horrible face and whimpered. He grabbed her.

  The woman tried to pull away. She whimpered again when his grip visibly tightened. “Please— please let me go. I’ll do anything you want. I’ll sing any song. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Can you turn back time?” Zorce demanded. “Can you remove your gifts from the spawn?”

  “I-I can’t.” The woman hung her head and silently cried. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  Zorce tilted her chin up with an inexorable finger. He gave her a gentle smile. “Of course I’ll hurt you.” He struck her with a casual flick of his hand. She fell to the floor and lay unmoving, though Phrandex saw she still breathed. Better yet, he smelled her blood on the cavern floor.

  Effortlessly lifting the singer, Zorce gestured toward his general. “Sulya.”

  As if by magic, Phrandex’s mother stood by her god’s side. Taking the woman from him, she threw the singer over her shoulder.

  Zorce turned to Belthethsia. Panting, she knelt on one knee, having enough sense not to rise. Fresh blood dripped from a wound in her head, staining her dark green hair black. Her wound closed slowly, until it was gone.

  “And you.” Zorce did not look as unhappy with her as with his son, but he was obviously angry. “The singer has displeased me by aiding the spawn. She is now mine. You will go to the surface and join the search. If you value that blue skinned body of yours, I suggest you don’t come back empty handed.”

  Sulya smiled wicked glee at the sight of her most hated foe’s humiliation. Phrandex suspected the look on his mother’s face didn’t bode well for the succubus. Any time Sulya looked devious, she had something unpleasant planned.

  “As you wish, my god and father,” Belthethsia said.

  When Athos growled low and deep, Zorce smiled. Phrandex shook his head at Belthethsia’s stupidity. It was a mistake to try and serve more than one god, and she had just declared Zorce her second master. Her blue skinned ass was in deep trouble now.

  Zorce walked back to his chariot. His hellhounds snapped and clacked their teeth together while eying the unconscious Maggie hungrily.

  “Turd, you have my permission to leave Hell and search for the spawn,” Zorce said to Berferd.

  Berferd scowled. “My name’s Berferd.”

  Stopping, Zorce turned his head to glare at Phrandex’s brother.

  “But turd is fine,” Berferd hurriedly said.

  Sulya’s smile oozed wicked pride when she looked at Berferd. With the human still draped over her shoulder, she stepped onto Zorce’s chariot.

  Pulling his whip from his belt, Zorce snapped it in the air above his hound’s heads. They leapt forward, snarling and snapping at the air. The god did not spare a glance to his shamed son as he rode away.

  Disappointed, Phrandex sighed. Nobody had died. He almost climbed down from his vantage point, but stopped when he saw Berferd try to leave. Athos stood before Phrandex’s half-brother like an angry dark cloud. His bone white skin pulsed with lines of grey.

  “You will not claim my realm, turd. I’ll find the escaped spawn and regain my father’s blessings.” He turned his head slowly to take in the crowd. “Do you hear! The spawn will be found! Every one of you will search. None will reenter Hell until the spawn is returned to me. I’ll flay and spit any being who tries to give the spawn to my father.”

  “I’ll find the spawn,” Berferd insisted. “I’ll give it to Zorce.”

  Athos nodded. “Goodbye, turd.”

  Energy shot from his horns. Berferd exploded.

  Phrandex waited until the god turned and disappeared into a tunnel before wiping gore off his face.

  “Disgusting,” he heard an older demon say as it licked a bit of Berferd from its chin. “Why does Athos always have to explode them when he’s pissed? Wastes good food.”

  Phrandex climbed down his pillar and started to leave when he found his way blocked by Belthethsia. She wore a curious smile on her face, one which made Phrandex acutely aware neither of them wore clothes. She stepped closer. He stepped back. She stepped closer. He tripped and landed on his butt.

  “Your brother is dead.”

  “Half-brother,” Phrandex corrected. “We have different fathers. I never liked him much.”

  The succubus’s smile widened. “I have a proposition.”

  Phrandex thought about getting up, but staring into her big beautiful eyes and looking at her big beautiful dusky-blue breasts made him not want to lose his vantage point. Things definitely looked better from where he sat.

  “I want to gainone of the gods’s favor— I don’t care which— and so do you.” The succubus walked closer. Standing directly before him, she planted her feet on either side of his legs.

  Phrandex had the terrible urge to lean forward and run his tongue along the inside of her thigh, but he resisted. The succubus was trying to seduce him, her own half-brother, and that would not do. The last thing he needed was another woman giving him orders.

  “If you help me,” the succubus said, wrapping her hand around one of his horns and gently stroking it. “I’ll help you. All you have to do is tell me what your mother knows.”

  Phrandex shuddered. Belthethsia’s voice caressed like sweet blood being rubbed all over his body. He tingled, and things down below started to react. In sheer panic he scrabbled backward and staggered to his feet, determined she wouldn’t use him in her games. Besides, he was still a young devil, relatively powerless when compared to most of those around them. Nothing he could do would give her an advantage so she spun lies for something else— something harmful to his mother. Not a bad idea, in itself, but he doubted Belthethsia’s plan included the possibility of Phrandex continuing to breathe.

  “No, I’m leaving here of my own accord and of my own free will. Besides, the last thing I need or want is to be caught between you and my mother. Thatis a fate worse than Hell.”

  Brushing himself off, Phrandex turned to leave. He wouldn’t venture out into the world on his own until he completed the unnamed chore his mother wanted to saddle him with. Afterward, before his leave-taking, he would make sure his nanny was still armed and capable of caring for the children. After all, an armless ninny wouldn’t survive long now that the children were teething and Berferd was dead.

  Chapter 14—Thief’s Trap

  Selnac crouched in the pristine alleyway and watched his partner’s glowing jade green hook slice through the building’s mortar like it was soft cheese. Jolson’s lines were perfectly straight and exactly square. When the first cut was finished Jolson twisted his hand so the buried hook’s point turned inward to catch upon the center of a block. He drew his arm back, and the block slid out of the wall. Moving forward, Selnac grasped the square section and moved it out of the way while Jolson’s hook plunged through the wall once more. Inside the building, guard dogs growled.

  “One more of those and we can crawl in,” Selnac whispered.

  “I won’t crawl,” Jolson replied,
“not anymore.” He pulled another block out.

  Selnac continued accepting and moving blocks until the hole became large enough for them to walk through without crouching or twisting to the side.

  After setting aside the last block, he straightened, coughed twice, and wiped a small spot of blood from the corner of his mouth while wondering how much longer he could live this life. Though he was not yet old, he was no longer young. Some of his limberness was gone, and his muscles were no longer resilient. Age and illness had crept up on him, and this meant he was no longer as good a thief as he had once been when he taught Harlo, Simta, and Glace the trade. Of late matters had become so bad he had actually considered asking Glace or Del to take on his duties for Mother Brood. He would eventually have to ask, but Jolson’s advent meant the time was further off and besides, Glace still needed convincing along those lines.

  Selnac coughed once more and grinned at his new partner’s back. This job was easy money, and it was all because he had taken pity on the hellspawn’s attempt to feed and clothe itself. He had originally thought Jolson would be dull-minded and easily biddable like all spawn, but this was not the case. Jolson’s mind had frequently proven to be sharp, but he lacked the experience to go with it. The spawn had only the vaguest idea of how to make his way in the world, and this vagueness had slowly starved him until Selnac’s pity bid him to take Jolson under his wing. It hadn’t been an easy decision. The spawn was an uncomfortable being to be around. Its soul was dark, and so far as Selnac could tell, it possessed nothing resembling a conscience, but he was willing to chance Jolson’s presence if the spawn made jobs this easy.

  Once inside, Selnac followed Jolson into the jeweler’s back room. He drew his knife when Jolson cracked open the connecting door, but the knife proved to be unneeded. Mouths agape and foaming, two growling hounds pushed the door further open. When they saw Jolson, they stopped. Their mouths closed. Their tails drooped, and they cringed upon the floor.

  Contemptuously kicking them out of the way, Jolson led Selnac into the showroom. Their bodies low to the floor, the dogs followed, crowding as close to Selnac’s legs as they could.

  Selnac glanced down at the dogs, shrugged, put his knife away, and studied the room. He liked what he saw. Half a dozen filled jewelry cases sat on the floor, but those cases and the jewelry they held didn’t fill his interest.

  He looked to Jolson. “Diamonds are worth more, but take the rubies because they’re easiest to fence.”

  Apparently uncomprehending, Jolson shook his head. “What are diamonds? What are rubies?”

  Selnac gestured. “Diamonds are the clear stones over there. Sapphires are blue and emeralds are green. You won’t find many of those last two here, and that’s just as well. They’re too rare and too expensive to suit our needs. Rubies are red. You’ll see them set in rings and necklaces and other things. Take the finished pieces if you must, but I’d rather you looked for loose stones, and let’s not take more than a couple dozen. Jalem has done us no harm. I see no reason to ruin her.”

  “Why not?” Jolson asked.

  “I own an overdeveloped conscience for a thief,” Selnac answered. “I steal because I’ve lives to care for. I don’t steal to cause other people lasting harm.”

  Jolson peered into a case containing diamond bracelets and grunted. “These clear stones can be traded for the coins that purchase food? If I had known this I would have brought a sack of them with me. Hell’s roads are paved with these— diamonds?”

  “Diamonds,” Selnac agreed. “Leave them alone.”

  Since the store was not large, its stock wasn’t extensive. The nineteen loose rubies they found in a small drawer were all the store’s owner possessed. Most of the stones were small, but three were a respectable size. Selnac poured half of them into his belt pouch. Jolson grabbed the pouch and spilled in the rest before handing it back. Frowning, Selnac led the way to the hole Jolson’s hook had created. The dogs followed on his heels all the while, casting nervous looks at Jolson. Selnac pushed them back into the main showroom, but they crowded back in on him, refusing to leave his protection until Jolson walked up and kicked each dog in the side.

  With the dogs contained, Selnac closed the connecting door and led the way outside. Once there, he bent and picked up a block.

  “What are you doing?” Jolson demanded.

  “This place will be stripped bare before morning if we leave it open,” Selnac explained. “I want to put the blocks back in so the wall at least looks solid.”

  Jolson’s hook glowed briefly. He idly cut a deep groove into the wall. “Why should I care?”

  Selnac breathed a heavy sigh. “If the woman stays in business we can burgle her several more times before she packs up and leaves.”

  Shrugging, Jolson held out his hand. “Give me the block.”

  Selnac handed it to him. Using one hand, Jolson handled the heavy block with an ease belying his thin frame. After he set the block in place, Selnac handed him another. When the last section was in position, Jolson’s hook glowed once more. He slid the hook into the small cracks separating the blocks, ran it the length of every seam, and pulled his hook free. The wall before Selnac appeared whole, complete and flawless.

  “Handy,” Selnac said, rubbing at the strained muscles in his arms. Jolson didn’t reply.

  In the distance, a faint howl sounded in the still night air. Jolson jerked, and his elbow connected with Selnac’s chest. The blow wasn’t hard, but it staggered Selnac, stealing away his breath. His chest grew tight— too tight— before it relaxed.

  “Krastos hunts,” Jolson said.

  Pulling himself together, Selnac rubbed at his chest. “Lots of things hunt at night. We hunted rubies, and now we’re hunting for a fence. It’s best we do it quickly. A job like this will raise a stink in the morning so a fence will offer us only five to seven percent instead of the usual ten if we wait too long. Problem is my regular contact is a fat slug who goes to bed early and doesn’t wake up before noon. Means I’ll have to use Mathew Changer, and I don’t like doing that.”

  Jolson nodded. “I’ve seen these transactions before. I’ll take you to the tavern.”

  Selnac coughed and tasted blood. Maybe he should see a physic, but physics cost money, and he had people who needed rugdles more than he did.

  * * * *

  When they pushed past the doors of the Hellhole Tavern, Selnac and Jolson found it filled to capacity. Selnac knew four of the patrons by name and recognized a few others, but the rest appeared to be strangers. Three drunks, apparently stripped of their goods, lay piled in the center of the floor. Near the bar, Tessla, Trelsar’s Assassin, calmly sucked cirweed smoke from her long stem pipe. Mathew, the half-were fence, drug lord, and sometime assassin, sat at the rough-hewn bar. Although his features were furred and wolfish, his hands and arms remained human. Nobody stood near him.

  The crowd shifted, opening a momentary lane, and Selnac saw pooled blood near Mathew’s feet.

  At least half a dozen people served drinks from behind the bar, but no money changed hands. The dark miasma which constantly filled the tavern felt like a heavy blanket threatening to press him into the floor.

  Selnac shook his head and pushed the feeling away. The Hellhole depressed him, but many of his acquaintances loved the place.

  Oblivious, Jolson pushed through the crowd and worked his way to the bar. Once there, he moved to stand beside the half-were, not seeming to mind that he stood on the splattered edge of the spilled blood.

  “Idiot,” Selnac muttered, but he wormed through the crowd to reach the bar so he could stand beside his new partner. Mathew, the half-were, glanced at him before turning his attention back to Jolson.

  A dull pain clenched Selnac’s chest. Clutching at the bar’s front rail, he tried to breathe. After a few uncomfortable moments, the pain dissipated and faded away. Worms, he thought, knowing the thought for a lie.

  “The smell of sulfur and brimstone,” the half-were mused to Jolson,
“but more. You smell of dung, cedar, and dog. You smell of granite. You even smell a little human.” Its mouth opened in a wolfish grin. “You are hunted, but the hunter searches for a scent purely from Hell. Only luck will lead Krastos to you this night.” Its grin grew wider. “Don’t leave before I’ve placed a few bets. Most odd makers believe you’ll be dead before dawn.”

  Mathew chuckled a series of short barks before changing the direction of his yellow-eyed stare. “Hello, Selnac. Have you finally brought me something interesting?”

  Two wooden cups plopped down on the bar before them.

  “Drink up,” said Glace. “Everything is free tonight.”

  “Carrid won’t be happy,” Selnac observed. As a rule, when Carrid became unhappy people tended to break.

  The liquid in his cup was amber hued so it had to be one of Carrid’s rare purchases instead of the piss ale he normally brewed. Selnac picked up his wooden cup, swirled the liquid within, tried a careful sip, and almost gasped with pleasure. This was the first time he could remember actually enjoying a drink in the tavern, but it was also the first time he’d tasted something Carrid hadn’t brewed. The state of Carrid’s mood suddenly seemed less important.

  “He won’t care,” Glace said, pointing at the pool of dark blood. “Krastos came up from Hell to fetch your friend. When the demon discovered Carrid had allowed the spawn to walk out his door, he wasn’t too happy, and since it was hungry...” He laughed. “For a little fellow, the thing could sure eat. We didn’t have to toss but half of Carrid down the Hell hole. Drinks have been free ever since. Lots of people have been popping in and out for the last couple hours.”

  He pointed to the drunks lying on the floor. “We even had a few respectables stop by, but I doubt they‘ll return. Getting beat up and rolled tends to make respectables nervous.”