by Mark Eller
They arrived at the waterfront almost two hours later than they had wanted, Mercktos still silently fuming while Sulya planned his death. Their small party slipped into an old, dilapidated building. Street beggars and other undesirables had made this their home at one time, but not for the last several days. Even the lowliest of humankind wouldn’t come anywhere near Zorce’s angry minions.
Human excrement, sulfur and the stench of bilge water drifted into the building through missing wooden slates and broken windows. The turbulent sound of waves breaking against the wharf and ships that loaded and unloaded their wares, drifted in behind them.
“We’ll put the brat in the guard room and have Ruin watch her.” Sulya headed to the far corner of the building. She started up a set of rickety stairs. Each step creaked and shook beneath her weight. “Damn it all! Couldn’t you find anywhere else for us to hide? For the sake of Zorce, have you no taste?”
“Have you no sense?” Mercktos snapped back at her. “What did you expect, the King’s Inn?” He laughed, a short harsh sound. “They want to find us. It’ll be twice as hard if they have to come looking in Wharf’s End. Their holier than shit kind aren’t exactly welcome here.”
No, Sulya had to agree. Wharf’s End was the worst part of the city, full of thieves, harlots, and the desperately poor, where houses were more like sticks and bits of straw packed together with mud than they were solid constructions. Those who lived in one of the king’s little one room huts, constructed at the queen’s behest to relieve the homelessness problem after a sudden drought two years earlier, didn’t consider themselves much better off than when they lived on the streets. The families living in them ended up being nothing more than indentured servants to His Majesty, something she suspected the queen hadn’t anticipated. Her Majesty couldn’t have foreseen how her good deed would be twisted by Helace, the king’s mistress.
“Fuck off!” she spat to Mercktos. “Hurry up.” Sulya kicked an unusually large cockroach off the steps. At least she thought it was a cockroach. With the way things were crawling out of Hell, it could have been something delightfully more sinister.
A low growl echoed behind her, a sign she was reaching Mercktos’s breaking point. Fine. His days as being Zorce’s second would come to an end soon. The fool underestimated her, and she would use that to her advantage; let him hang himself in his own hubris.
After reaching the landing, they went to the end of the hallway. Inside what used to be the main office was a small sleeping room and kitchen for the onsite guards who had lived there in better times. Walking to the far corner, Mercktos dumped their prisoner on the floor while Sulya lit a lamp. Pale, yellow light cast dark shadows across the dust covered wood floors. She would do little to make the place homey or livable. Its only purpose was to house one miserable little brat until Sulya was ordered to hand her over to Zorce’s priests.
The ‘brat’ in question kicked and squirmed until the burlap fell away from her head. Sitting up, she glared at them. Sulya glared back.
“For one so small, you’ve been a rather large pain in my ass,” she complained. “I’ll forever hold in my mind’s eye the moment Zorce’s priests plunge their knives into your body and rip the skin from your face.”
Missa’s eyes narrowed. She scowled, and drew here bare feet up close to her body. The child was all legs and arms, and Sulya supposed getting her hands tied had been more than a bit daunting. In the couple of months Missa had been in Grace, Calto had taught the child much in the way of defense, with rather uncanny results from what Sulya had seen, Missa had excelled at everything he had taught her. Her long arms were an asset when it came to swinging a sword…much as they had been for Larson, Missa’s father.
“On second thought,” Sulya said as she turned her dark gaze to Mercktos, “why don’t you watch over her while I take Ruin with me to scout for any overly eager knights. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find Tessla.” She started for the door. Having the dark knight nearby wasn’t what she needed right now. What she needed was room to think, to plan, to find a way to turn the situation around. “Whatever you do, don’t remove the girl’s gag.”
Mercktos studied her carefully; his empty, black reptilian eyes a cold void in the half-light. “Tessla is no minor being. The likes of you won’t dispense a creature such as her.” He gave her a dark, twisted grin. “But, if you feel like you’re her match, I’d love to see you give it a go.”
Mercktos closed the distance between them in one quick, blurred step. The overwhelming smell of sulfur, sandalwood, and death wafted up to Sulya’s nostrils. Holding her ground, she fought the urge to gag.
“I wouldn’t mind watching her break your bones, one at a time, until you begged her to kill you.” Mercktos murmured. Leaning in, he flicked his tongue along her neck.
Sulya jerked away, stumbling backwards. Mercktos’s face had still not completely healed. Bare bone showed through an open gash upon his face. Some substance in the rose bush had harmed his resilience even more than she thought. “Bastard. When this is all done and said, I’ll have Zorce turn you into a chamber pot so I can piss on you daily.”
Sulya turned, her skin changing to bright fuchsia, and stormed out the door. Anger vibrated through her body like a swarm of angry bees. Behind her, Mercktos laughed, a sound that made her violently shiver. Sulya hated him and meant what she said. When she secured her place in Hell as Zorce’s right hand, she’d make the devil’s demise her first priority.
* * * *
Mercktos watched the similian walk away. “A piss pot, how unoriginal,” he drawled while absently shoving torn flesh back into his exposed cheekbone. Damn that rose bush and damn whatever vile substance had been in its sap. If this damage proved permanent he would take his pound of flesh out of Sulya’s ass and then some.
He stood a moment more, thinking about Tessla. He wished he could watch the two of them fight; as if Sulya were any match for Trelsar’s Assassin. The bitch had gotten by so far with sleight of hand and deception; luck, he would have to say. But no one stays lucky forever. He just had to be patient and let hers run out.
Mercktos chuckled. The idiot had acquired several little trinkets since he last punished her for failing to gain Larson’s sword; a medallion, and a nifty little ring one of Zorce’s priests had given her. The ring allowed her to call on an imp if she was ever desperate enough to have to do so, and the medallion had a succubus trapped within it. Dangerous weapons, but not to him. No, the only time he had needed to be careful around her was when she carried Zorce’s poison in her veins. This was no longer the case. The similian’s being, though magical in nature, had its limits. The dark god’s poison had proved too much for Sulya, nearly driving her mad.
“Mmmmpphh!”
Mercktos turned his gaze. From the corner, urgent, muffled cries echoed throughout the cold, bare room. The gangly child squirmed on the floor. She was a beautiful creature, he supposed, in a mortal sort of way. She possessed large sapphire blue eyes, long delicate lashes, and a heart shaped face. Her golden hair glinted much like the precious metal it resembled. In short, she looked like her mother…all except her eyes.
Walking over, he knelt in front of her.
“So…you’ve a goddess inside you, which is probably why there’s been so much trouble with both the flow of time and the weather.” He tilted his head sideways, clacked his jaws, and wondered what was so special about this girl’s voice. Why did Zorce want her destroyed? If it were Mercktos’s decision, he’d keep her alive and find a way to make her power permanently his own. When sacrificed, her power would transfer to Zorce, but only for a short time. With the child dead, the goddess would quickly escape.
Missa squirmed again and made more muffled pleas.
“Hmm. Don’t like being bound and gagged? Let’s you and I make a deal.” Reaching over, he fingered one of her long braids with a black talon. It felt soft, fine. “I’ll take the gag out if you give me your word, as a goddess, that you won’t try anything. Otherwise,” he paus
ed and leaned close to her face so their eyes were level, “I’ll kill the little human host you’re hiding in. Agreed?”
Mercktos watched as Missa swallowed hard and nodded her acquiesce.
“Good.” He reached over and pulled the gag from her mouth.
“I have to pee. Bad.” Missa’s words spilled from her mouth. Pouting, she looked as if she were about to cry. “I’m really hungry, and I’m thirsty, too. Why are you being so mean to me? Did you kill my mommy, and where’s my uncle?”
So many questions. Mercktos growled his irritation.
“There’s a chamber pot in the sleeping room. There’s no fresh water, and I don’t have any food you’d be willing to eat unless you think rats are tasty?” His long, forked tongue slid from between his teeth and tasted the air in front of her nose. Missa jerked backwards. A loud thwack reverberated through the room as she smacked her head on the wall. Row upon row of needle sharp teeth clacked as he chuckled. “And I’m not being mean to you…yet. As for your mother, she is still alive, and the stuck up priest of yours is dead. Satisfied?” He narrowed his eyes and pointed toward the sleeping room. “That way if you have to avail yourself of the facilities.”
Missa’s bottom lip began to quiver as she drew in a shuddering breath. “You big, ugly snake.”
Oh hell, was the child finally going to cry. Mercktos’s muscles bunched as his fake heart sped up. Drawing in a deep breath, he readied himself for the pain. Generally, he didn’t mind receiving pain. It could be therapeutic and exciting, but he preferred giving to receiving. Then again, the sorrow of children was so…exquisite. Almost like drinking the blood of a Knight of the Order of the Sword and the Staff before ripping out a heart and eating it raw.
Large fat tears rolled down Missa’s rosy cheeks and splashed to the floor, making small wet splotches on the planking. Her voice rose in a sorrowful keening, and her grief assaulted him like a physical blow. A low hiss escaped his clenched teeth as he straightened and stumbled away from her. The fucking heart Zorce had given him cramped inside his chest, spreading pain throughout his body. He clutched at it…cursing his god for this punishment. The heart often hurt when he caused others pain. He enjoyed the sensation…to a point…but it never hurt like this. Tiny angry knives buried themselves in the faulty organ; his body jerked, spasmed, and a howl tore from his throat. Shrinking away, Missa looked fearfully between him and the doorway to the sleeping room before struggling to her feet. She ran through the open door and slammed it shut. The jolt of the slamming door shook the flimsy room and sent warning vibrations up through the soles of Mercktos’s feet. The tiny knives twisted even deeper, digging into his heart. He lurched sideways, the room blurred. Pictures of strange faces and unknown places flashed in his vision like lightning strikes, each one more bizarre than the last, sending sharp tendrils of pain across the front of his head. He leaned against the wall, his breathing shallow. Cursing.
Had the goddess done something to him, broken her promise?
The door opened. The child peeked out.
“Please sir, I can’t go potty because my hands are still tied. I promise I won’t run away if you untie them.” She pushed the door open, sniffing, her thin frame shaking. Hesitantly, she offered him her trembling hands, cringing as he pushed away from the wall.
Mercktos swallowed. His vision cleared. The knives retreated to a bearable distance. He edged closer to her, slow, cautious. “What did you do to me? Who were those people, those places I saw? ”
Taking a step backwards, the child shook her head in denial. “I— I don’t know Sir…please…I really have to go.”
When Mercktos growled, the child yipped and backed against the wall. “Let me talk to the bitch goddess,” he demanded.
Her body shook, and her lip quivered. “I-I—”
Mercktos roared. His power coiled about him in muddy swirls, and the child screamed. Pain like he had never felt before ripped through his body, searing and ravenous. He dropped to the floor, convulsing, and shifted involuntarily to his human form. As he did his pain lessened; his power dissipated. Mercktos tried to think past the hurt, but the images came at him again. A woman with pale green eyes and light brown hair laughed as he held her. An angry man in a strange wheeled contraption yelled at him, told him he was fired. Another man, big, laughing, with pale green eyes similar to the woman’s, shook his hand and offered him a beer in a glass bottle. More scenes sliced through him. Strange people, stranger machines, and loud music assaulted him, rushing through his mind until everything blurred into a vortex of light and sound.
Merrac…
The woman with the pale green eyes called to him. Like a soft whisper on the wind, a sound which he thought he heard but wasn’t quite sure existed, touched his mind, tender and intimate.
Merrac...remember. So soft. So warm. A lover’s caress.
No! His name wasn’t Merrac! It was…it was…
I love you…
The lights grew brighter, a sense of oneness with the universe, a sense of completion, stole over him. Out of the brightness stepped the child, a golden nimbus about her body. Rolling to his side, Mercktos pushed himself up so he sat facing her.
“I can make it better Merrac,” the child said. She held out a hand. “Will you let me?” Her soft voice was a salve to his soul, a wrapping of silk about his addled brain. It soothed his confusion and pain, brought him clarity.
“Yesss…” His tongue felt heavy, too thick for his mouth, but his limbs stopped trembling, his pain stopped pulsing in time to the beat of his heart.
The child opened her mouth and dulcet tones of love and forgiveness slipped from her tongue. The words wound their way into his soul. Mercktos let the melody wash over him, each note filling his being with light and joy. Never before had he experienced anything like this. The song was wonderful. Jasmine and honeysuckle filled his nostrils. Visions of wide-open pastures drenched in sunshine inundated his mind.
He stared at Missa now sitting before him. The golden light poured from every part of her being. How could anyone wish to harm such an amazing child? Mercktos couldn’t imagine it. In fact, he couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt anyone. Mercktos’s lids grew heavy. He laid back down in the bright warm meadow which now surrounded him. For one brief moment his mind tried to make sense of his surroundings but gave up in sleepy surrender. Through half lidded eyes, he watched as the child morphed into a beautiful woman standing above him, dressed in a flowing white gown which spilled around her on the ground. Smiling down, she continued to sing, and her sweet voice filled his empty soul.
“Fear not Merrac, lost love of mine, I am here to release you from Zorce’s pain.” Kneeling, the woman tapped his chest…the place where Zorce had put the false heart. “This heart is a lie…all Zorce’s truths are lies. You never lost your heart. The organ beating in your chest has beat there for thousands of years. This is not what is causing you the pain. Look past the torment, past the wall the dark god built within your mind, and come back to me, come back to our truth.”
Like running through hip deep mud, Mercktos’s brain tried to pull itself out of the mire, struggled to understand what she meant. But it was so hard. So…so…blank. There were holes in his mind— holes he kept falling into, kept trying to leap over— but he couldn’t seem to make the simplest of steps.
“Oh my beloved. Sleep for now. Sleep. Sleep and remember. You will return.” The woman’s voice seeped into his mind, chasing away darkness as she gently stroked his temple. Her touch was soft, loving, a touch he had never felt before…at least not for a very long time. Surrendering, peace and tranquility wrapped their arms about his body and he slept, and while he slept, he dreamed for the first time in thousands of years, deep and at ease.
* * * *
Ani sat unmoving, staring down at nothing. They had taken her Missa, her heart, her soul...and Calto had not stopped them. She shivered in the night’s warmth. The manor held no warmth for her, nor did the blanket draped around her shoulders.
“Ani, please, I’m sorry. I swear by the seven I’ll get her back.” Calto knelt in front of her, his hand on her shoulder.
Tessla stood by the wide window looking out into nothing. She had stood there, not saying a word, for almost an hour. The assassin’s lean, tall frame seemed to be at ease considering the situation; probably because she was high from her cirweed drug. Ani wrinkled her nose at the smell. Cirweed polluted the air in heavy smoke circles around Tessla’s white haired head while the assassin’s hand rested casually on her sword hilt.
“Why? Why did they take my Missa?” Ani whispered. “Tell me the truth. I deserve the truth.” She started to cry again. “Missa needs me. I’m her mommy.”
How pitiful those words sounded.Mommy. She might never be called that wondrous word again. She couldn’t bare it. No matter the cost, she had to have her baby back.
“It’s complicated Ani. I don’t know where to start.” Calto stared at the floor, refusing to meet her eyes.
“Just tell her the truth priest,” Tessla said, her voice cold and empty. “Tell her what you did to her child when it was born.” Lowering her smoking pipe, she folded her arms in front of her. “Anothosia would not want you to deceive Missa’s mother.”
With a low growl, Calto stood and glared at Tessla. “I am going to tell her the truth, all of it. So if you do not mind—”
Ani watched Calto’s muscles tense. He turned back to her, a pained expression on his face. What was this truth he seemed reluctant to tell? What had he kept hidden from her?
“I am not sure where to start Anithia. I guess I should first say I am sorry you were not told the truth from the beginning, but we had no other choice.”
“We? Who is this 'we'?” Ani snapped. “Stop telling me how sorry you are and start telling me something to explain why I don’t have my Missa anymore.” Anithia wiped at her eyes. They were sore and swollen from too many tears. The gelf bite she received on her leg during her near abduction by Mercktos hurt like hell. Ani shivered. If the gelf hadn’t bitten her, she too would be in the clutches of Hell. The gelf had saved her life and somehow drawn her into symbiosis with the rose.