by Mark Eller
But damn-it, he really was a fraud. He hadn’t a single touch of magical ability.
Meliandra straightened, stretched seductively, and glided toward the back of the temple. She brushed a leather curtain aside with a delicate motion. “Father doesn’t like to wait and neither do demons.” Her smile was sweetly vicious. “I’ll collect your offering later. I do hope you brought enough. I’d almost regret making you father’s next gift.”
* * * *
As yet, Joss saw, the temple’s cellar was mostly unused. Its floor was semi-mud that smelled of mold; its gray walls were water seeping stone blocks. A dozen flickering, smoking, oil lamps jutted from those walls. A good portion of the cellar held most of the street priests Wencheck had enslaved. Most of them seemed more miserable and less happy to attend than even Joss, probably because they had a better idea of what was going on. After all, at least a few had likely seen Gertunda carried in.
Meliandra motioned for Joss to join the gathering before she strode over to her father and Urvald, who occupied the cellar’s less populated section. She gently kissed her father’s cheek, ran a caressing hand across Urvald’s bare chest, and smiled down at the naked woman strapped with her limbs spread out to a wooden frame. Urvald stroked Meliandra’s hair like a master greeting a puppy while his other hand continued drawing lines on Gertunda’s swollen belly with a charcoal stick. Gertunda’s friend, Relia, lay in a sodden heap on the floor. Cereft, wearing its demon form, giggled while it played with several loops of Relia’s intestines.
Joss fought down a sudden upsurge of bile and his hands began to shake. Not an uncommon reaction. Of late, his hands shook a lot. Mostly since Wencheck set his geas of obedience in place.
“What’s going on,” he asked an older woman once he joined the group. He didn’t know most of his fellow priests well, but Bithra and he were old friends. It was she who had first introduced him to pretend magic.
A motion caught the corner of his eye. He turned his head and started at the sight of two hooded men. One looked Joss directly in his eyes and smiled briefly while his glamour faded away. Stiffening, Joss focused his attention back on Bithra.
“I haven’t a clue,” she said. “In fact, I don’t want to have a clue. I just want to leave.”
She might be lying, but only about the first part. Joss doubted she was clueless, but Bithra did most definitely want to leave. Sweat beaded on her forehead. Her hair hung in wet strands, and she stank of fear.
Smiling benevolently, Wencheck signed for silence.
“I’ve been good to you,” he said, his voice dripping slick disappointment. “I gave you a purpose. I gave you a god, and I give you the chance to serve me.” He shook his head. “I trusted you all, but was betrayed. It is time for you to learn how I deal with those who play me false.”
He waved a hand toward the bound woman. “My late mistress. I gave her shelter and safety when her family fortunes fell. All I asked in return was that she keep Urvald entertained. I trusted Lady Gertunda to do as ordered, and she did, but then she handed me death in a cup of wine.”
Twisting her head, Gertunda spat toward the count. She missed.
“You set a price on my husband’s head,” she cursed. “You handed me over to be used by a devil like I was chattel.”
Gently laughing, Meliandra touched a finger to the bound woman’s lips. “Your husband,” she said, “was my lover long before my father almost hanged him. Dear Ludwig spent hours telling me what a horror you are. As for Urvald, as a Priestess Whore, pleasing him was your sacred duty, as it has been mine.”
“Ludwig loves me,” Gertunda protested. “I’d have found a way to divorce him long ago if he didn’t. It’s only your manipulation that’s kept him away.”
“Baron Ludwig despises you,” Meliandra corrected. “In this regard he shows the same sense as everyone but my father. Even Hell shies away from the vitriol of your nature.”
“He will see you fall,” Gertunda hissed. “Ludwig will tear your king from his throne and seal your gods into their hole. My husband is a hero born.”
Meliandra knelt beside the stricken woman. She stroked Gertunda’s hair and gently kissed the side of her mouth. “Ludwig was the best lover I ever had before Hell came to town,” she whispered loudly enough so the entire room could hear, “but he is too hapless to be a hero.”
“He is my heart,” Gertunda stated with pride. Her eyes were wild, but her voice held not one wit of fright.
Chuckling, Meliandra gently licked the woman’s lips. “Before long, I’m going to eat your heart, but I don’t want you to think me cruel, Gerti, so I’ll give you another heart as a replacement. You’ll never guess who we found skulking outside the temple. I actually think the fool had some idea of saving you.”
She snapped her fingers.
The cellar door opened and two bodies were abruptly shoved through. Kalad, Meliandra’s other demon guard, followed after. Joss’s trembling grew worse when he recognized Ludwig and the queen as they were forced to stand before Wencheck and the devil.
“My darling!” Gertunda cried upon seeing her husband.
“Oh gods,” Ludwig groaned drunkenly. He turned imploring eyes on Urvald. “Please kill me. I don’t even care if it hurts. Just kill me before she gets free.”
“My Queen,” Wencheck said, seeming to ignore the byplay. “You have no idea how pleased I am to see you. You’ll be glad to know King Vere has given Urvald permission to eat your soul.” He waved a magnanimous hand. “Urvald, enjoy the woman.”
Even expecting it to happen, Joss jerked when the quiet sound of drawn steel whispered through the suddenly still air. His hood thrown back, Calto and his friend glided through the gathered priests.
Seeing them, Urvald shook his head, sighed, and struck the queen with a quick backhand. She was flung to the side and her head thudded against the gray rock wall. Bouncing off the wall, she plopped onto the shallow mud floor and remained still. Urvald laughed.
“You?” he chuckled happily to Calto. “Still hanging around instead of fleeing like a rat with your ragtag priests in tow? Zorce will reward me well for your death.” His expression became quizzical, and he gestured toward the drawn swords. “Please don’t tell me you expected to use those. I‘m a devil, you damned fool. Steel won‘t harm me.”
Nodding, Wencheck leaned against a damp wall, his mouth twisted into a faint smile. Meliandra giggled, lay her head against Gertunda’s bare breast, and trailed her fingertips over the lines drawn on the bound woman’s child-swollen belly. Gertunda looked imploringly at her husband. “Husband. Do something.”
“I’ll start cutting on you here,” Meliandra promised the woman. When she glanced around the room, Joss saw the wild lights of insanity within her eyes. “I’ll pull the child free and allow it to see me eat your heart. The sight will make it a strong beast. Maybe even a devil. Would you like that, to have your child become one of the ruling elite of Hell?”
“Nobody interfere,” Wencheck ordered the room. Joss felt a whisper of spell force rustle through the enslaved crowd. “Urvald, kill Lord Calto please. I’ve always rather hated him.”
Calto’s features were cold determination bound in hot iron. Sword raised, he leapt toward the devil while his companion ran toward the two demons.
“Dear Anothosia,” Bithra whispered beside Joss. “I wish I could do something, but I can’t move.”
She really couldn’t move, Joss realized, watching her. Bithra’s hands remained still at her sides. Her eyes focused straight ahead. She couldn’t move…she was frozen…but he wasn’t.
Fighting back hope, Joss felt for his magical bindings, sensed nothing, smiled grimly, and silently thanked Tirelle for disobeying the queen. Somehow, in some way, the geas commanding his obedience had been removed a second time.
Within his head, he heard a tiny giggle.
Stilling with the realization he was free, Joss watched with the rest of the room as Urvald and Calto locked together in combat, the devil laughing and
the man grim. Urvald’s form shifted, glowed, and the devil chortled when Calto momentarily shied back from its full horror. Red and green scales shimmered in the lantern light. Leather wings were folded across its back, and poison dripping spikes protruded from its face.
Joss jerked his eyes away and looked for the other battle. Calto’s companion, he saw, was already down and dead. Cereft happily tore at the man’s throat.
Kalad edged toward Calto.
Biting his lip, Joss fought down his fear. Tirelle had granted him freedom for a brief time at the very least. If he didn’t do something with it he truly would be enslaved.
Joss gathered his courage, stopped his shaking, and reached inside his possible bag. His fingers fumbled for a small pouch, found it, and pulled it free.
“I can do something,” he told Bithra, loosening the bag’s bindings. “Trelsar guard me,” he whispered as Urvald released a surprised roar when his folded wing snagged on a hot lantern. Rushing forward, Joss pushed aside several watchers, ran across the open floor, and jumped over Ludwig’s prone body just in time to crash into Kalad before the demon leapt onto Calto’s back.
The impact was like running into a cliff face. Joss grunted, heard his left wrist snap, and bounced back to fall over Ludwig.
But before he fell, he emptied his bag over the demon’s left shoulder.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Ludwig said almost conversationally. “But thank you for trying. Please get off me.”
Snarling, Kalad turned to face them. It opened its mouth wide to display shredded flesh rotting between its teeth.
And then blazing light filled the room.
Kalad tilted back its head and screamed. It stepped jerkily toward them, fell to its knees, and keened piteously while reaching out an imploring hand. It shuddered, shook, and fell to the floor to lay still. Its melting shoulder smoldered and flowed into the mud.
“Or maybe not,” Ludwig observed. “I’d say your display looked impressive, but my eyes are watering.”
“Flash powder,” Joss explained, feeling confused as he crawled off Ludwig. “I didn’t expect—”
“The mad woman,” Tirelle’s small voice broke in. “Meliandra. Isn’t she the harlot you’ve moped about for years?”
“She’s a bit unhinged,” Ludwig admitted, “but isn’t she beautiful?”
“Men,” Tirelle huffed.
Standing over its interrupted feast, Cereft glared malevolently. It crouched on thick, misshapen legs, ready to spring.
“Do you have more powder?” Ludwig politely asked.
“No,” Joss admitted. He hadn’t hoped for results nearly so destructive. He’d only intended to distract the monster, not kill it.
“Damn.” Ludwig said. “I wish Harlo hadn’t burned his hands when he set the tavern on fire. He’s much better at this heroic stuff.” He cast his eyes toward the cellar’s ceiling. “Nedross, I could use a bit of help here.”
The demon sprang through the air just as Ludwig struggled to his knees. Ludwig’s drunken pose shifted, and then he flowed with unbelievable grace. He twisted, avoided Cereft’s claws, set his hands over each of its ears— and with a sudden wrench tore the demon’s head free of its body.
Ludwig stared unbelievingly at the head he held in his hands. Looking at Joss, he breathed out alcoholic fumes.
“How’d I do that?”
“With my help,” Tirelle said, “but not with all that much help. Lots of it was you. Goodbye.”
And then the amulet on Ludwig’s chest shattered. Cursing, Ludwig dropped Cereft’s head to the floor. “Holy hellfire and Anothosia’s bouncing tits! Tirrelle?”
Rising to his knees, Joss fumbled in his possible bag with his unbroken hand for something else that might help Calto, for anything, but knew his search was in vain. Colored scarves, marbles, and trick tubes would do no good here. His one moment of defiance was over.
Meliandra, he saw, had risen to her feet. Her hand held an evilly pointed dagger.
Wencheck, his face now slightly alarmed, drew his sword and stepped toward the battling pair, prepared to thrust his blade into Calto’s back.
“I don’t think so,” Meliandra said, and she struck her father’s head with the dagger’s haft before flipping it around and throwing the weapon at Urvald.
Urvald flinched when the dagger’s handle struck his ear. Grabbing the moment, Calto fell to his knees, struck upward, and pressed his sword’s point into the scales on Urvald’s belly.
“Tell me where Anithia’s daughter is hidden and I’ll let you live,” Calto promised, his voice grim.
Urvald laughed. “I told you. Steel can’t hurt me. It won‘t even break past the scales. Besides, none of us know where Mercktos hid the brat. The search is on, but you’ll be too dead to join it.”
“So be it,” Calto said.
When his sword hummed. Urvald’s laugh faltered.
“You are worthless to me, and the virtuous gods want you back in Hell,” Calto told the devil, and then he thrust Anithia’s god-blessed blade into the devil’s belly. Its point emerged from between Urvald‘s shoulders.
Urvald whimpered deep in his throat and shuddered. Holy light blazed briefly in his eyes— and then the devil faded away. Dropping his sword, Calto crawled to the fallen queen’s side. He felt at her throat, and his face suddenly blazed with hope.
“She lives!”
Ludwig, face stricken, held his broken amulet cord in his hand.
Feeling tired and worn, Joss looked around to see the other priests stirring. Good. They seemed to be breaking free of the obedience spell. Joss might not be a mage, but he knew enough about magic to know Wencheck being struck down wouldn’t break the spell. He had been Urvald’s slave, not Wencheck’s.
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Gertunda snapped at her husband while Meliandra cut free her bindings.
Ludwig glared at his wife with blurry eyes. “Hey! I just helped save you. The least you can do is get off my ass.”
Meliandra frowned at him. “Ludwig, are you this temperamental with every woman who loves you?”
Ludwig’s jaw fell open. “Tirelle?”
Smiling coyly, the woman ran her hands along her curves and cocked a hip. “So, how do you like my new body? It’s not as roomy as a tree, and its been well used, but human flesh sure feels better than living in a bit of carved wood.” Her smile grew mischievous. “Speaking of bodies, yours needs to look just a little bit more like Urvald’s.”
Aghast, Joss watched a swirl of lights surround Ludwig, and then they disappeared. He chuckled upon seeing startled fright stare out of Urvald’s features. Apparently, he was less tired than he had thought if he could find some humor in this fucked up situation.
“Much better,” Tirelle said. “I’ve put a obedience spell on Count Wencheck, so he has no choice but to obey our commands, but we really do need to have a likeness of Vere’s pet devil handy if we want the king to believe he still controls the temple.” She pointed a finger at Joss. “Are you going to continue acting like a humble peasant all night, or are you going to get off your knees?”
“Off my knees,” Joss told her, scrambling to his feet. Most of everything he had pretty much hurt, but not nearly so badly as his wrist. On the plus side, it looked much worse than it felt. Joss wasn’t an expert, but he figured it was a bad sign when jagged bone stuck out of somebody’s skin. Especially when that somebody was him. Strangely, there was very little blood. He shot a glance at Nedross’s confused priests as they milled about, and then focused on Calto and the queen as Elise opened her eyes.
“My Lady,” Calto said quietly. “You are alive and I rebel against your husband.”
“As do I,” Elise said, her words slightly slurred. “Mayhap you may join with me.”
“Yes,” Calto murmured, “Immediately after I fulfill my promise to Anithia and find her child. I’m told the main hellborn search takes place north of Grace. I plan on disrupting their plans with the help of Anithia and my st
ill loyal followers. ”
“Do it quickly then,” Elise weakly ordered, “I have great need of your strength and am unhappy a woman I know not lays first claim on your service.”
“What little strength remains to me shall be yours when my task in finished,” Calto promised, and strangely, his expression reflected dark despair. “Be assured, I only seek to redeem myself in my goddess’s eyes and regain my honor with this quest. As always, outside of Anothosia, my first loyalty lies with you.”
“As it should,” Elise answered, “but know that I am unhappy with your decision.”
Bithra pushed her way to the front of the gathered priests and confronted Joss. “I don’t understand any of this. What did you do?”
Joss didn’t answer. He barely understood anything himself.
Groaning, Queen Elise sat upright, her accusing eyes fastened on Calto. “People believe Nedross offer’s hope. We will use their belief to gather them to us in revolt. We will start our rebellion in the streets. We will use it to give us an opportunity to infiltrate the castle and kill the king. For a time we will do this without Lord Calto’s help. It seems another owns his service.”
“But Athos wants the world,” Bithra protested. “What are you going to do about him?
Elise removed her stare from Calto and shook her head. “Pray to Nedross, I suppose. I can‘t think of anything else.”
Shuddering, Ludwig edged toward the door but seemed to be stopped by Gertunda’s glare.
“Joss,” Calto called, breaking away from the queen. “What’s in your powder to make it so effective?”
“I don’t know,” Joss admitted. He cradled his broken wrist and wondered why it no longer hurt. The bone still protruded. It still bled a bit, but he felt no pain. Hopefully, one of the people around him knew something about the physic arts because he didn’t think it was a terribly good idea to leave his wrist dangling.
Meliandra— Tirell— gave him a wink.