by Mark Eller
“Give me your best guess,” Calto insisted. “You had to know something in the mix would be effective.”
Joss shrugged, being careful to not move his wrist overmuch. “I didn’t expect anything. Not really. I only thought to distract the damned thing, not kill it.”
“Find out,” Queen Elise ordered, pushing herself forward. Her eyes narrowed, “or are you going to further emulate Lord Calto by disobeying another order from your queen.”
Joss shook his head no.
“Good,” Calto said. “The success of this revolution may depend on your chemistry.”
“I’m a nymph,” Tirelle said to Gertunda. “We don’t believe in fidelity so I don’t mind sharing him. You?”
Gertunda looked down at her swollen belly, making no move to cover herself. “I’m carrying a devil’s child. I’m in no position to complain.”
Tirelle shook her head, looking at the swelling. “Oh no. Your baby is pure human. It belongs to the king.”
Gertunda released a relieved sigh. “That’s all right then.” She looked to her husband. “Yeah, me and Vere had a thing for a couple nights. It wasn’t voluntary, but I won’t claim it was totally unwanted. Not until he gave me to his pets. Husband. it’s time for you to grow up, stop running around, and accept some responsibility. You will raise the king’s son, and you will treat your wives well or you’ll answer to me.”
“But I don’t love either of you,” Ludwig protested.
“You will,” they both replied.
Chapter 3-- Hunted
Sulya drummed her talons on the scarred table and glared at her new second in command. The smoky air of Carwin’s Inn stung her eyes, adding to her irritation.
“Are you sure Mercktos helped Tessla escape?” Sulya could barely contain her anger. This was the last straw. Mercktos had gone too far. It was time to deal him a final blow. She would not tolerate his interference any longer. At least this gave her an excuse to get rid of Zorce’s abscessed right hand.
Ero nodded to her. “I’m sure. My pet tells me he saw them running away in the opposite direction, toward the abandoned part of Wharf’s End. He killed two demons in the process as well.” The incubus stroked the hideous bird sitting on his arm. The scry, black greasy feathers, a long pointed black beak, eyes holding the flames of Hell, was what Ero affectionately called his ‘pet’. At the moment his pet, with its taloned feet digging deep into the flesh of the incubus’s arm, looked at Sulya like it wanted to tear out her eyes and feast on her brains.
Sulya approved. She liked attitude in a companion. She would have to get a scry for herself.
Once again, the similian changed colors, becoming fuchsia. Her hair, talons and lips changed to a dusty blue. The only part on her that did not change color was the part which was now half demon. It stayed red, and that pissed her off. The fact her body was no longer as beautiful as it had once been ate away at her vanity, but the scales which now covered her from her waist down were too great an advantage to complain about since they were effectively a type of weightless body armor. The rather small yet very sharp talons she possessed instead of fingernails were a bit of a plus, too, what with them being incredibly deadly weapons. Besides, if giving up part of her beauty was the price she had to pay to gain her desired place in Hell, then the exchange was well worth it. Survival counted for a lot. Power counted for even more.
“All right. We now hunt both Mercktos and Tessla. I want them both dead.”
Ero appeared bemused. “Mercktos? Are you sure that’s such a wise decision? He is still Zorce’s second in command, and if I’m not mistaken, Zorce still wants him around.”
Sulya glowered and sat up rigidly in her chair. “He is nothing, do you hear me?” She clenched her jaw until it popped. “Nothing.”
The demon raised an eyebrow and smiled. “If you say so.”
Was he mocking her?
“I don’t find any of this amusing,” she snapped, “and I don’t give a damn what he is or isn’t. What Mercktos did today proves he has turned. His keeping Missa from us is further proof. If we don’t find the child I will not be alone when Zorce peels the skin from my bones and roasts me over an open fire.”
Sulya leaned forward and glared, her talons digging deep into the table’s wood.
Ero stopped smiling. He carefully pushed his chair away from the table and stood. “I see. Well then.” He extended his arm. The scry flew from his arm and crashed through a window. Glass and bits of wood scattered onto the street.
Sulya blinked in surprise. She had not known the birds were so tough. She frowned. The always observant Ero had seen her reaction.
His smile returned. “Don’t worry. A scry could slam head first into a stone wall and not receive so much as a bruise. They are hellborn, remember, and a damn sight harder to kill than even a hellhound. Their feathers repel both fire and blades. Almost indestructible, my sweet darling.”
“Where is it going?”
“To find your friend, of course.” Ero began to laugh. The sound of it ground on her nerves in a delightful way. It sounded like someone torturing a cat.
A barmaid made to scurry by them, her dark eyes set resolutely ahead, her hands visibly clenching the empty beer mugs, but Ero whirled before she could get away, and grabbed her by her hair.
Shattered pottery littered the floor as the barmaid tossed the cups. She screamed and kicked and pleaded for someone to help her. No one did.
Sulya purred. These cattle had learned their lesson. Hell now ruled, and they knew it.
“I’m hungry,” Ero said to Sulya. “Care to join me?” He gave her his most seductive eyes.
An odd tightening in her stomach and fresh dampness between her legs made Sulya smile. More than her outer appearance had changed, and the devil’s open invitation served to strengthen that fact. He obviously wanted her to share more than dinner with him.
Sulya stood and stretched. Maybe she would try a taste of the barmaid. Just a little bite. A mouthful or three. Since her transformation to half-demon she found she had strange cravings.
“Why not? Maybe when we’re done with her…” Sulya licked her lips and let her hands trail enticingly over her breasts. They ached and tingled in ways both strange and delightfully intriguing. Her nipples suddenly grew painfully hard.
The struggling barmaid looked at Sulya, then to Ero— and fainted. Laughing, Ero ripped off the barmaids arm and handed it to Sulya moments before his teeth tore into the woman’s belly.
Sulya sighed contentedly to the sound of the woman’s unconscious groans and joined in to sate her new desires. The experience proved to be rather fun.
* * * *
Mercktos hurried through the city streets with his cloak pulled tightly about him. He was being hunted, and even in human form he could not hide. His seven-foot frame gave him away as something a bit unusual; it drew too many eyes.
He had to get back to the temple without being seen. Somehow, he had been spotted helping Tessla escape, which meant he was no longer immune from Sulya’s hunters while traversing the byways of Grace.
Tessla, sweet Tessla. He thought for a moment about what he had done and wondered briefly if it was a wise decision. Mercktos had not risked his neck for her out of any sense of duty or honor, but for something else. What that something was he could not quite define, but he knew it had to do with the change he underwent while walking in Anothosia’s Garden of Healing and Faith. Somewhere, in those honeysuckle and jasmine dreams, he had learned the truth about his ‘pretend’ heart. And something more…much, much more. Somehow, he had regained his soul; the one he was supposed to have, the one Zorce had locked away.
Now, when he looked upon humanity, Mercktos no longer felt hated or raged for their deaths. Those feelings, he now understood, had never been his. Those feelings were an extension of Zorce’s emotions, the dark god’s anger at being denied true freedom and godhood. And what better way to make the one who did this too him pay than to take her true love. What Zorce had do
ne to Mercktos was out of revenge, out of a deep driving need to make Anothosia suffer for eternity. It was a cruel revenge. One lasting thousands of years.
How did Mercktos know all this? His dreams, his subconscious. While he had basked in Anothosia’s beauty she spoke to him of his failings and true origins. She told him he had a chance to come back to her and be pure once more. The images of his cruelty had flashed before him and then were washed away by her purity. She took his darkness, cast it out of his body, and in its place gave him hope, courage, and love to fill the void— gave him things to fight back the eternal night of Hell. And she gave him one last gift, something he was not yet sure what to do with.
Anothosia returned his true memories— his birthright, his love for her, something he had willingly tossed aside in a moment of extreme pride and jealousy. At one time, Mercktos had been her protector— her Paladin of Light.
Now fully awake, Mercktos wasn’t sure what it all meant. His mind was still swimming with his newly released identity, but when Anothosia touched him in his dreams, he felt the difference in his heart and newly discovered soul. He could finally see Zorce’s lies clearly, and each time upon waking he brought more of the truth with him into the light of day.
Mercktos still looked and felt like a devil, scaly, powerful, a hunter, but he no longer felt hateful. He had no desire to use his hideousness to intimidate or inflict pain and sorrow. This brought about a whole other set of issues, ones he had never dealt with before. His new inner self conflicted with his outward appearance, leaving him confused and lost.
Merktos passed down the Avenue of Dreams where prostitutes of every kind plied their trade. Except of late the area had been bare of their kind. Madams usually stood on balconies overseeing their property while men and sometimes women cruised up and down the cobbled street, perusing the ladies for their particular favorite act, or maybe seeking something to appease a gruesome fetish; but no more. Now only his brethren hunted these streets, looking for fresh meat. The humans hid, or they tried to appease, pretending to themselves their lives could be saved if they capitulated.
“Won’t you come and spend a pretty coin or two on an enchanted beauty?” A voice, soft and sultry, suddenly whispered in his ear.
Merktos partially shifted. Talons pierced his human fingers and he prepared to shred whoever was foolish enough to violate his private space. Whirling, taking a step back, Mercktos growled deep in his throat.
However, what he saw standing next to him in broad daylight was not what he expected. Mesmerizing his senses, making the surrounding buildings and people fade into the background, was the goddess, Anothosia. She bore an aura of pure white light which shimmered with the hazy colors of the rainbow. Her mouth curved gently upwards into a soft, kind smile, and her eyes sparkled green like the ocean on a stormy day. Her hair hung long and straight; down past her shoulders, looking like a cascade of silver thread. And when she spoke again, Mercktos was reminded of the Garden.
“It is time Mercktos. It is time for you to forsake your demon flesh. You have no more use for it.”
Mercktos nodded in numb acquiesce.
She continued. “Go to Omitan’s Garden in the center of the city. Finish changing to your demon form.”
Her last statement shocked Mercktos out of his stupor. “Are you crazy? I’m being hunted as we speak.”
“Change. Now.” The woman gave him one last smile, and then her image faded away.
Mercktos blinked several times before realizing he stood in the middle of the street staring at nothing. A young couple walked past him, whispering behind their hands, giving him a wide birth.
“Must be demon possessed talking to himself like that,” the woman muttered to her companion.
Nodding in agreement, the man pulled the woman protectively to him.
Merktos looked around furtively, feeling unsure. Had he really seen the goddess? He thought a moment, and then shook his head. Reality must be slipping for him. Of late, it had slipped for almost every intelligent being, the result of too much power walking the earth. Too many hellborn had broken free. There had been more shadow visits from Omitan, Anothosia, and Trelsar. Not enough to warp reality, he would have thought, but obviously, he would have been wrong.
Change into his devil form? Insane! He would be spotted, and then he’d never make it back to Missa, and that was something he had to do. Without his protection she would either starve or be found and killed. Neither outcome was acceptable.
“What you looking at me fer?” An old beggar woman he hadn’t noticed before shook her walking stick at him from the side of the road. “I ain’t fer sale, you no good pervert! You want a woman, you go looking in another direction.”
Mercktos narrowed his eyes and took a step in the woman’s direction, ready to disembowel her for the disrespect, but then stopped. Instead, not wishing to cause a scene, he allowed a taloned hand to slip from beneath his cloak as a warning.
Screeching, the old woman flayed her stick in the air. “Ahhh. Oh great demon forgive me, forgive me!”
People and hellkind alike turned and stared. Mercktos panicked. He rushed the old woman and shoved her into a doorway.
“If you don’t shut up I’ll make you sorry you every met me.” His body wanted to shift. It wanted to become what he no longer was.
The woman, seeing Mercktos hesitate, hit him hard in the groan with her stick and made a feeble attempt at escape.
Mercktos grunted. The blow had hurt. He felt pain, real, physical pain. That had never happened when he had been struck there before. Not that he could remember. Worse, the pain felt…unwelcome.
The strange sensation caused him to lose control. Wings erupted from his back. His body elongated and became covered in scales. Rows of shark-like teeth filled his mouth. Within moments, his yellow, double lidded eyes glared down at the terrified human.
The woman wet herself and fell to her knees, her body shaking.
Mercktos stared down in a rage, wanting to rip her backbone from her body and shove it down her throat, but he could not. It was— it was wrong. It was wrong to harm a living being, wrong to unnecessarily take a life— any life. This woman was an innocent. A helpless old fool terrified for her life.
Shame washed over him at his callousness.
Mercktos closed his eyes for a moment. Feeling like a foreigner in his own body, the devil swayed on his feet. Mercktos opened his eyes, reached down, and helped the woman up. A soft growl issued from his throat as she cringed from his touch.
“Please, please I beg you. I didn’t know you was-you was-hellkind. I got a grandson to look after, I-I,” she now stuttered so badly he doubted she could continue to talk.
“Here, let me take her.”
Mercktos startled and turned. Somehow, in all the confusion and fuss he had allowed an old man to sneak up behind him. The devil glared.
Blue eyes shining in a face which spoke many years of wisdom and kindness, the old man held out his hand. Mercktos didn’t trust the gesture. Something about the old one spoke of more than just what Mercktos saw on the surface, but the devil could not quite place what the something was.
Mercktos stepped protectively in front of the woman. “She’s fine. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He bared his teeth.
Smiling, the man’s eyes suddenly swirled a misty white. “So, Ano really did convert Zorce’s right hand into her Paladin once more. I’m impressed.” A soft chuckle escaped. He placed his hands on his hips, suddenly appearing strong and confident.
“Who are you?” Mercktos tried to gaze at the old man’s aura, but he saw nothing. The stranger had no aura. It was like looking at dead space, a blank, except the emptiness seemed more solid than stone.
“I’m someone who knows you’re running out of time. You need to get to the garden before it’s too late.”
Gingerly stepping around Mercktos, the old woman hid behind the no longer old man. She peered at Mercktos over a solid shoulder.
Above him, in the sky, a
high-pitched screech pierced the crisp winter air. Mercktos looked up just in time to see a scry circle above him once and then disappear.
So okay. He had been found. The time for waffling was over.
When Mercktos turned his attention back to the man, he found both him and the woman gone. The street was now completely empty.
Feeling bone weary, Mercktos sighed. The hunt was begun, only this time he was the prey.
* * * *
When Mercktos arrived at the park he found a bench that had not been ripped to pieces and sat. As requested by Anothosia’s shade, he was in his demonic form. A few people hurried by, unwilling to look at him lest he find one of them suitable for a plaything or a quick meal. Their fear bothered him, made him feel guilty. He wanted to shift back to his human form to give them a touch of peace.
Gazing about him, Mercktos tried to block out their whispers and concentrate on the day’s beauty. The sun seemed unusually warm for this time of year, but not so much as to melt the light layer of snow covering what little surviving vegetation remained after weathering Zorce’s onslaught. This was Omitan’s park, Mercktos knew, but his priests and fairy folk no longer tended it. Being the weakest god, Omitan had been Zorce’s first target. The park’s graceful arches, once covered in wild roses, were now bare and stained with dried blood. The once proud statues had been torn down and either dragged away or broken into small pieces. A dead body had been thrown into the fountain, fouling its water. Most signs of the destruction no longer existed, but he could still see blood stains and the occasional bit of bone. The fountain held no water; it only held a foul, thick sludge which occasionally belched or burbled. In short, the park had become a complete shambles, exhibiting not even a shadow of its former beauty.
It pained Mercktos to see it like this. He remembered once hearing the park had been Grace’s pride. Many had come from foreign lands to see its sculpted statues of gods and goddess’s as well as statues representing prominent citizens and poets, as well as famous kings and queens from the kingdom’s past. Many had even taken their holy vows of matrimony by the large fountain. Mercktos didn’t wonder why. He had seen the fountain before its destruction. It had been the showpiece of the entire garden, Omitan’s personal joy. Made of veined marble, it once depicted Omitan with his faithful creatures as they gazed respectfully up at their maker. The god had stood in its center, eight feet tall, dressed in a woodcutter’s garb, loving and watchful.