by Mark Eller
Even knowing where to go, the crack hiding the entrance was surprisingly difficult to find. Several chunks of rock jutted from the cliff face nearby, broken free and remaining attached by mischance more than design. Deep divots showed where other sections had fallen into the lake below. Everywhere, brush jutted out of jagged rocks, and sometimes small trees. She eventually found the entrance near one precariously balanced chunk of broken rock, hidden behind several brash bushes bearing long thorns.
Inside, all was not quiet. Even with the hellborn’s long lead she could hear their distant footsteps and murmured conversation. She also saw faint flickers of far away light, so they had brought the human’s lantern with them. Around her, the tunnel walls were jagged rock, well suited for carrying echoes. Being careful, Tessla ghosted forward by feel, one hand touching a wall, her feet carefully testing each step. Fortunately, although the walls were rough, the floor was perfectly smooth. In here, where there was no light except that provided by those she followed, her superior vision did her little good, although once that would not have been true. Even though his presence was fading, Dell’s soul still partially blocked many of her gifts, including her ability to see the world only through the ever present nano cloud.
The tunnel definitely sloped down at a steep angle. By her best reasoning, she had climbed somewhere between two hundred and fifty and three hundred twenty-five feet to reach the temple’s hidden entrance. Within ten minutes of careful walking she knew she had descended at least that far, and she was still going down. So, Flinstar’s home seemed to be underground, or perhaps even under Lake Elmere since the tunnel owned a decided curve.
Ahead, the faint light disappeared. The footsteps and voices faded. Tessla was not concerned and did not increase her pace. If there was only one way into the temple, then there was only one way out. For now, it was better to remain unobserved.
Minutes later, she rounded a curve and shortly afterward, another. Finally, after twenty-seven minutes of slow travel, she reached an ornate metal door that was already ajar. Inside her, the remnants of Dell stirred as he corralled an escaping wisp of Athos’s poison once more. Tessla wished she dared light her pipe. Her fingers still trembled.
* * * *
Rough laughter sounded within the temple, making Missa tremble.
“Har,” a harsh voice shouted out. “Flinstar the ascetic. Flinstar the pragmatic. Flinstar the god who doesn’t give a shit about nothing except being left alone. Look at this place. Mosaics. Gold inlay. Statues and jewels and every other damn sign of wealth those greedy, grubbing humans constantly seek.”
“And mostly undisturbed,” a less strident voice added. “The human we killed was telling the truth. None of his people dared take anything from here. Gutless, the entire batch of them. Wish I’d done more than break his neck. So tell me, little bitch, is she here?”
“Which she?” a woman’s voice asked.
“There’s two of them?”
“The child is nearby. Her odor is unmistakable. The one who hunts us follows behind. She entered the temple but moments ago.”
“Oh no!” Missa gasped to Anothosia, remembering to keep her mouth closed and speak only in her thoughts.
“Calm child,” Anothosia reassured her. “I will not allow us to be killed by these. If the need arises I will risk Zorce discovering us by combining our strengths, but this game is not yet done, and all the players have not been revealed.”
Several moments of silence followed before the harsh voice asked pointedly. “Who hunts us?”
“Tessla,” the female answered. “She has followed us for the entire day, or more specifically my dear Bent, she has followed you.”
Several curses sounded, followed by the sound of a solid blow.
“Fucking whore!” Bent cursed. “Why did you say nothing? I swear by Zorce, Rebel, before we are taken down by Tessla and her followers I’ll rip your guts from your belly and stuff them up your nose!”
A faint chuckle followed before Rebel answered. “You are so amusing and I’d love to see you try, but it won’t happen this night, my lovely devil. Tessla has come alone, without helpers, and without all her god-given weapons. Isn’t that right, sweet darling? Does your body still house your lover’s uncomfortable soul? Does he still handicap you, and how are you dealing with no longer being Trelsar’s whore?”
“We have to help,” Missa begged Anothosia while fresh sweat ran down her forehead and soaked her shirt under her arms. Her hands trembled; her stomach ached with fear, and the smell of her own stench made her want to gag. The woman named Rebel was right. Tessla was not the same killer she had been before. She was incapable of taking on four powerful hellborn on her own.
Searching desperately, she looked for a weapon she could use, but after she found it she would have to climb the well’s bucket rope. By then any fight would be over.
Anothosia did not answer. Instead, her presence stirred, rose, and Missa found herself a passenger inside her own body as Anothosia took momentary charge. “We wait.”
“My bond may have changed but Trelsar’s will still guards and empowers me,” Tessla’s tranquil voice said. “He has given me more than enough weapons and strength for this battle, but I admit it is not one I desire. Leave now, in peace, and I will not take your lives. Seek the child, and you will surely die.”
“Do you like my claws?” Rebel asked archly. “They are long and sharp and harder than diamond. I’m very proud of them since I grew them myself. It took me weeks to learn how.”
“Your point?” Tessla asked.
“My point, assassin, is that I’m not any kind of changer you’ve ever met before. I’m faster, tougher, and have more weapons at my command than any other being you’ve ever fought. I was born human, but I’ve no fear of any hellborn or god’s assassin. In the last month alone I’ve killed hellhounds, demons, wyverns, and even a devil. My claws bear virulent poison even they couldn’t withstand, and my hollow teeth carry an acid capable of destroying diamond. Think long before attacking, Tessla. Three others stand with me. If battle is joined there will be death, but I promise the death will not be mine.”
“The child belongs with her mother,” Tessla said. “Not with you.”
“Harrow,” Bent ordered. “You circle to the right. Poldac, you will stay here while Rebel and I circle to the left. Rebel, when she attacks come in from the side. I’ll kill the bitch from behind.”
Missa heard several careful movements accompanied by the swift hiss of drawn steel. Knives, she suspected, with maybe a single sword. She knew Tessla preferred knives for their quickness and their ability to be thrown. Missa wasn’t sure, but she thought she had once heard most hellborn didn’t like to use swords. To them, swords were a real world thing, a Terra thing, not something encouraged within the created universe called Hell. Hellborn showed their worth with the weapons their birth had given them.
“Another thing you haven’t considered,” Rebel added, her voice sounding from further away.
“Yes?” Tessla said, seeming almost bored.
“I really was born human.”
Missa heard a hiss, a screech, and then she heard screams and yells amid a series of meaty thunks as blades slid into flesh. The fight did not last long. In less than a minute Missa heard mostly silence except for heavy breathing and somebody’s throat making a deep rattling for a few moments before the rattling stilled.
“This time,” Tessla finally said, “Bent truly is dead. Your poison was every bit as deadly as you insinuated. Now, I must admit I do not recognize your face behind the cat whiskers and fur, but I believe I know your voice, and I suspect you recently sent me a letter. Have you been changed beyond what I already knew or was this ability to assume another form always within your skills?”
“A little of both,” the female answered. “As you know, I was forcefully changed from human. I was later changed back. Those who did the changing took me in. They taught me a great deal and were surprised at the extent of my talent. I could
have had a home with them, and was tempted, but I carried too much anger. Hellkind had harmed me too greatly for me to not seek revenge once I had the means to do so.”
“I see.” Tessla sounded thoughtful. “I have come for the child. Will you give me difficulties, Lady Simta?”
“I, too, came for Missa,” Simta answered. “I consider both her and Anithia to be my friends. I wish nothing more than to see them together once more.”
Missa felt her body rise. Her chin tilted up and her mouth opened. “The child is here Lady Simta, Queen of Cats, and Tessla, Trelsar’s former Assassin. Along with Missa is a part of me, residing within her body. I am Anothosia. We rest at the bottom of the well and would dearly like to be removed. Poor Missa wishes to be returned to her mother, but first we must travel to the queen’s camp.”
“It shall be done,” Tessla promised, and with those words Missa found herself once again mistress of her own body.
Chapter 7-- Knight Reborn
Calto Morlon, head of what was left of the House of Morlon, rode into the renegade camp feeling as though someone had driven a stampede of arvids over his bare body. Weeks of running, fighting, and dying while searching for Missa had left his rebel group of priests and followers bare boned and too few in number. He looked around at the ragged group the now deposed Queen of Yernden and Mathew Changer had collected and sank further into despair.
What he saw did not give him hope.
Huddled around open campfires were dirty, half-starved and, most significantly, unarmed refugees. The stench of unwashed bodies, burning wood, human waste, and the faint smell of rot, permeated the air, saturated his senses. Calto’s stomach lurched, twisted itself into a tighter knot.
This was the best her majesty could assemble while we were gone? Calto asked himself hopelessly.
Anothosia's greatest warrior priest sat astride his horse, feeling his heart sinking further into the abyss which had already swallowed his purpose in life. Before this disastrous search for Missa he had kept his self-doubt unvoiced while steadfastly maintaining a pretense of confidence for those who trusted in him. Now, after this latest in his long string of recent debacles, he felt he had nothing left, had no reasons left to pretend he remained strong.
Studying the camp through weary eyes, he sighed. How were any of these people going to defeat the armies of Zorce? How were they going to stand against the darkness that was coming for them, wanting to devour them whole?
"Calto,” Anithia asked. “Are you sure this is it? Is this truly the Queen’s Army?” Ani sat behind him on his horse. She squeezed him lightly and scooted closer, her body firm and warm against his back. The sensation sent nervous twitches deep in his groin and sent an ache to his heart. Both were starving for the touch of a woman, someone he could hold close to his heart as well as his body. But that person was not Ani. Not after the way he had used her, not after the way he had pretended to give a damn about her welfare. Nor was it the queen.
Elise would never be his— ever. Because of his ego, his pride, he had not only failed her, he had failed all the people of Yernden. By not rescuing Missa from the hellborn, he had even failed his goddess.
“Yes,” he answered Anithia. “The Queen’s Banner is tied to the tree over there.” Clearing thoughts of the two women from his mind, he looked closer at the flag. Ragged, dirty and worn, the banner flapped loosely in the wind. The once, bright blue and yellow flag, with its copper colored mace in the middle, was strung between two trees. Ripped and torn, it barely remained in one piece.
Calto released a deep, despairing sigh. Everywhere he looked he saw reflections of his soul. Ragged, torn, beat down, these were the only feelings he had left. Everything he had held so dear was gone. Morlon Manor was a burnt shell, a pile of smoking rubble. The temple his ancestors built was torn to pieces, now used for ritualistic sacrifices to Zorce and his ill begotten offspring. Grace was overrun with every imaginable hellkind there was. One gods-damned thing after another. It all piled on top of his heart until he felt like it could beat no more. His failure was complete. Not to mention he had lost his goddess. It was one thing to lose a coin or misplace a shoe, but a deity? A supreme being? Only someone as arrogant and full of themselves such as he could ever have pulled off such a complete and utter failure.
Anothosia was out there somewhere, he knew, waiting for her knights to come to her aide, waiting for them to rescue poor Missa. Before he died a devil named Merktos told Tessla she could be found in Flinstar’s forgotten temple. Perhaps true, but his message provided no help since forgotten meant forgotten. Nobody knew where the temple was, or even if it truly existed, and so Missa remained lost and perhaps dead.
His fault. Another failure. He had let that bitch Sulya take Missa. If he had been thinking with his head instead of his cock he would have put the bitch to death when he first suspected she was a traitor, but she had been his lover. His confidant, and so he allowed himself to suspect but never act. He had played along with her game…and lost.
Calto closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what it felt like to believe in something. He tried to remember what it meant to be strong, to be unafraid. But he could not. All he could see was carnage. The visions would not leave his mind. The bloodied faces, the torn bodies of his friends, family, and followers, they all haunted his dreams. If he had not been so vain and angry, he would have heeded Anithia's words and abandoned the manor for the safer, more sacred grounds of the God’s Enclave, an almost forgotten place of protection for the followers of Omitan. The survivors were lucky Ani had kept her wits about her. The fledgling priestess had stood her ground, waited for them, and held the passage open against all common sense. The worst part? He had not known the passage existed…and it was located in his home!
What an idiot he had been. What an arrogant fool, and yet even then he had not learned. His later attempts at creating rebellion had been little more than further proof of his egotistical posturing. Look at what he had accomplished. Using every resource at his command he had managed, barely, to capture one run down temple. The queen, with fewer resources, had raised an army, albeit a seemingly ineffectual one.
Beside him, Ani sighed. "Okay. Pointing out the Queen’s Banner wasn't exactly the answer I was hoping for. I really wanted something better." She started to sing.
Anithia's voice rose high and sweet into the cold, pre-dawn air. The people in the camp slowly stopped what they were doing. The old and young alike came closer to the source of the singing which poured itself over their souls like a rainstorm in the desert. Calto knew what they felt. He had seen this reaction before. Dry and barren, they drank in the hope she sang to them.
When she finished, all gathered around Calto and his band of renegades. Some fell to their knees weeping. Others reached up to touch the riders.
But Calto felt nothing. His soul remained strangely empty. Looking back upon what was left of his knights, he saw they, too, were hollow. Slumped in their saddles, their eyes were glazed and sightless. Their faces were drawn…haunted. Only Omitan’s followers reached down and whispered their god’s blessings, attempting to give people comfort and compassion. Hope amid despair. Pointless on the face of it, but understandable. Who would not be bolstered in their faith after watching their god anoint a new high priestess in the middle of a disaster? Her people sat tall, righteous, their eyes fierce.
Calto hated them.
The knights of the Order of the Sword and the Staff had been hunted the fiercest, slaughtered to near extinction. There were only forty or so knights left, thanks to Belsac’s bounty, five hundred gold pieces on their heads. A smaller bounty existed for Anothosia’s followers. Anyone who captured one of her faithful and brought him back alive would get a hundred gold. Anyone who tortured one of her followers and then brought them back alive would be given two hundred gold pieces, all information he should have known before dragging his people outside Grace in search of the child. If he had been aware of the rewards he would have taken steps to hide the
ir identities. Because he had been an arrogant cocksure fool, too many had died.
Needless to say, none now proclaimed their faith openly. Even Calto hid his priestly robes under a heavy cloak, for his was the highest reward yet; fifteen hundred gold pieces if he were brought back alive.
Anithia stiffened behind him, and she pulled herself closer to Calto. "There are demons here. I can feel them. Can't you?"
Calto's muscles tensed. He tried to sense their presence but could not. All he felt was the emptiness his soul swam in.
His hand slid down to where Ani’s sword was strapped to his horse and untied its leather thong. He scanned the crowd carefully. Had they walked into a trap?
Anithia started to sing again. She sang sharp and high, sending her voice out like daggers slicing through the air.
Calto felt the earth tremble beneath him.
A loud wail started from somewhere in the middle of the throng, then people started fleeing, clearing an area around two women.
Down on their knees, holding their hands to their ears, the women cried black tears.
Ani wasted no time. She focused her song on the two women. The earth split beneath them. Thick black roots shot from the ground and twisted around their bodies.
Ani's voice grew sharper yet.
The women struggled, fighting against the ever tightening roots, shifting to their true forms. One started slicing through her bonds with hands that suddenly sprouted long glinting knives.
"Don't just stand there!" Calto shouted at his priests. "Kill them now before they break free, you fools!"
Calto looked into their war ravaged faces and saw panic and fear wash through his followers, knowing memories of death and bloodshed came back to haunt them. None moved.