by Mark Eller
Erlmene shook his head once. “They creep me out,” he admitted. “Besides, I don’t want to send my power into their hideous forms until we reach the final battle. I can’t account for what might happen once it makes them undead, and see no reason to take chances beforehand. So, brother, where’s Caroline? You promised I could have her if I helped out.”
Dakar frowned. Apparently his brother still had a one track mind when it came to his past love. “Caroline? You must mean Anithia. She is battling elsewhere. I promise, she’ll be fine as long as you keep helping. We have to provide these humans with time to finish their tasks. Trouble, please go cause a bit of havoc over by the usurper, the young snit named Mari. Give her a good scare. Make sure she knows Elise has help, but don’t show yourself. Not yet, although I expect you to eventually make it clear her sorry ass is going back from whence it came. Oh yes. If she so much as a lays a hand on Elise…cut off her head, and if it isn’t too much trouble, send a lightning bolt into the castle. See if it will take out some of the hellkind guarding the wall. Erlmene, stop raising the dead. I don’t want you to wear yourself out now. During the final battle tomorrow or the next day Queen Elise will need every corpse we can give her. Also, use your sight to spy upon the hellkind. If possible, give these poor bastards out here a warning of what is too come. But again, do not show yourself, and do not let Athos know we are here. Send me word through your corpses.”
Grinning wildly, Dulce released another war hoop before flying into the air on a lightning bolt, headed straight to where Mari and her army had camped. Erlmene turned toward his brother.
“I looked in the mirror a while ago. Carol— Anithia— is headed for grave danger. Love you as I do, if she dies I will make you one of my living dead attendants.” Erlmene’s eyes were whorls of silver. They churned, twisted and swirled. His power danced upon his skin like tiny lightening storms in streaks of muted gray and white. Even so, Dakar sensed no anger coming from the god of the dead, only a promise; a very sincere promise.
Dakar shivered. He wished he had never let the idiot look into the mirror. Erlmene had been obsessed with Caroline since she first stepped onto Terra’s soil several thousands of years ago. It seemed his obsession had transferred to Anithia. His brother would keep his promise to take Dakar’s life if Dakar failed to keep Anithia alive regardless of the geas their mother had laid upon Erlmene when they were still children. “Don’t worry, brother. Omitan helps her. The Forest Lord will not abandon his grandchild. I will send my shadows to hinder Sulya, turn her around in the castle. I’d like to do more, but I’m still weaker than I like. It is the best I can do.”
Erlmene nodded. “Go away now. I need to concentrate. A large horde of demons has just left the castle. If they succeed in this rush the main battle may be now. ”
Dakar watched as darkness flowed from the gates, and then turned back to his brother. “One last thought. There are dead inside the castle as well. Can we use them against Athos and Sulya?”
Erlmene closed his eyes and stood motionless for several moments. He opened them. “Yes. When the time is right I can use them. Now go away.”
Dakar started back down the hill toward the castle. Once again his form faded into the shadows, and his mind turned toward the task ahead of him. Ready or not, Athos was going to get some unexpected visitors. He hoped the dark god choked on them.
* * * *
Anger simmered beneath Erlmene’s skin like hot acid as he watched his half-brother go. If Dakar plotted to get revenge upon him by offering up Caroline and then taking her away, Erlmene would make him hurt ten times worse than he had suffered at Ano’s hands. He stomped the ground.
“Damn Dakar, and his games,” he muttered. His step-mother may have set a geas which compelled him to keep his brother mostly safe from others, but the bitch didn’t say shit about Erlmene personally wringing the conceited fool’s neck. Until Anothosia conveniently shuffled Dakar aside, Erlmene’s entire long, tedious life had been spent picking up the pieces of his brother’s disasters, and now it looked like he would have to do so again. Had the long centuries of imprisonment taught him nothing? Had Dakar found no sense of self, no center, no contriteness during all that lonesome time? And what did he have planned for Caroline? No…Anithia. Her name was Anithia. Caroline was gone, lost during the first wave of Zorce’s war, back before any of them knew what they could truly do.
So very long ago.
No, Caroline was dust. He didn’t even know where her grave was anymore or even what continent it might have once occupied. Thousands of years had passed since the first tribulations, the first wave of disease and disaster.
Erl swore under his breath and kicked a rock down the hill. Why had his step-mother left this geas upon him? Erlmene was the younger of the two. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around? Dakar looking after him?
Erlmene took a deep cleansing breath. When his focus waned his undead stumbled around without reason. He could not let his anger undo him like it did Dakar. No. He was better than that. He would discover where Anithia went and keep her safe; perhaps send his undead in behind the similian woman…Sulya was it…the one who sought revenge for the death of her son? Yes, Sulya. His dead would harass her demons, being unmerciful and dogged, and when Dakar called him, Erlmene would go to the castle and soak up Athos’s essence. He had to. He could not afford to let Dakar get stronger than him. That was why he was also sucking up the dead hellkind’s essences as it left their bodies on the battlefield. Dakar, the fool, probably hadn’t thought of that. It was the true reason why Erl did not raise hellborn from death.
Pulling the mirror out of his pocket, Erl rubbed its blackened surface. It swirled, misted and then showed him that which he now desired most of all. Anithia. Tears glistened in her eyes. She looked afraid. So young, so beautiful. Just like Caroline, She had hair like streams of gold, eyes a deep sapphire blue. He had watched her endlessly over the last few days, knew every curve of her body, every idiosyncrasy.
The mirror started to become fuzzy. Her face blurred. Erlmene rubbed its surface again, but it did not help.
Damn it all! She must have crossed the barrier between the two dimensions. A blurred image would be all he could get.
Or maybe not.
Erlmene focused on the dead in the castle. There were many. He shoved his power into them, commanded them to rise, seek out the one called Sulya, and assist any of Elise’s guard still inside the castle. His mind searched again. There had to be something dead close to the Hell Mouth. Erlmene searched for long moments but only found scattered pieces. Finally, desperation won out as he found a severed head and a hand. It was not something he would normally do…animate a head…but none of the other pieces he had found could tell him what they saw. And he had to have the hand to roll the head down the passage. Gruesome, yes, but effective.
Using the animated hand, Erlmene laboriously rolled the head along the corridor. He tried to watch from the head’s one remaining eye, but the ever changing angles made him dizzy. Fine. He would send the hand and head on their way. When they found Anithia the head would tell him so.
Above, lightning arced across the sky and struck the castle’s parapets. Hellborn plummeted to the ground. Their screams raised the hairs on Erl’s body. He gazed longingly into the mirror one last time before returning his full attention back to the battle.
Which was almost over. Hellborn retreated back to the castle, and the Altude knights retreated back to their lines. Listening through the ears of the dead, Erlmene overheard several Altude knights speak on how easy this victory had been.
Erl shook his head with disgust at their ignorant hubris. They thought themselves the victors, little realizing this had not been a full attack. The dead had eyes and ears within the castle. He knew this attack had gone badly for hellkind, but only because it had been hurried and ill-conceived. Even now Athos punished those generals who had sallied without his leave. Many of those generals were dying. Others were being raised. In a day or t
wo hellkind would be organized and Athos would be prepared to act. When these two things happened the Altude soldiers would most likely fall and die, making them perfect to suit Erlmene’s needs.
Erlmene would be there, at that battle, waiting to raise his troops. He would be there and he would help Dakar give a well deserved kicking to a Vernden god’s ass. In fact, he planned on kicking a lot of other ass, too, beginning with the hell bitch who threatened his Anithia.
Chapter 11-- Hell Bound
Anithia stood beside her daughter at the entrance to the underworld in the sewers beneath the castle. Above her, at the upper end of Yylse’s hellhole she and Tessla had climbed down, the sounds of battle raged through Yylse. The voices of the dead and dying drifted to her on cold rancid air. Her body shook with both fear and apprehension as she looked through a thin crack into Hell and saw a vortex of swirling energies through which no human and few hellborn bodies could pass. Beside her, a small warm hand grasped her cold fingers.
“Be strong. Together we can conquer anything, and worry not about this show. Ours is another entrance, one I hid and warded by warping space and fracturing time. Those safeguards have been severely damaged and will soon fail, but for this moment they still hold.”
Missa’s confident voice was not her own but that of the goddess Anothosia. A white light surrounded her fragile child’s body, and her hair was no longer braided. Instead, it flowed in long golden waves down to the middle of her back. In one hand, she carried a silver staff that stood two feet higher than her four foot three frame, and at her hip she carried the sword of truth. Its polished ivory handle shimmered with its own life. A strange humming emanated from it, almost as if it sang. Sometimes, the goddess hummed along without seeming to know she did so.
“Is Missa still in there with you?” Anithia asked worriedly, choosing to not think of where Anothosia would soon take her.
“Partly,” Anothosia answered. “Much of her resides elsewhere. Rest easy, Anithia Morlon. I have not harmed your daughter, nor will any harm come to her that I can prevent, but beloved child, we are going to war.” The goddess briefly squeezed Ani’s hand before dropping hers down to her sword’s hilt. At her touch the sword sang louder. “Missa says she loves you and not to worry. Her father is watching over you both.”
Anithia’s stomach churned. Was Missa with Larson?
Ani blinked back sudden tears and shivered. It had been too long since she last talked to her baby. It frightened her to think Missa and Larson were together. Larson was dead. Was Missa’s soul with him?
“Is she— is she—” Ani couldn’t finish the question because she was too afraid of the answer.
The goddess gazed up at her with Missa’s sweet smile spread serenely across her face. “Ani, I promise you she is fine, if not entirely here. I needed to occupy more of her body so I could have direct control. To do this I caused Missa to exist as I do, partly within this body, but mostly in the place where the virtuous gods mainly reside, in the alternate yet overlaid created universe I call my Garden. It was the only way for me to be able to use her gifts and control our combined power. Missa agreed to this, and Larson approves.”
Ani gulped back tears and nodded. She understood very little of what Anothosia said, but this was not the time to be weak or show doubt. “Are you sure just the two of us will be enough against Zorce and his minions?”
“We are not alone Anithia, and the path has been readied. Our allies will be awakened by your song once we gain entrance. I have my faithful servant waiting for us as well.”
Ani fell silent. Anothosia’s words did not assure her. She didn’t feel like the all powerful god she served was inside her as Anothosia was inside Missa. Ani only felt like herself, small and doubtful, although determined. And how could Omitan’s followers already be within the gates? Surely they would have been discovered by now; discovered and killed.
“It is time.” The goddess waved her hand, creating a slash of violet light which pushed against the energies of the open hellhole. The light covered the entrance, spread wide, and a portal was created, one leading to a strange place Ani could not have imagined even in her worst dreams.
“Follow,” Anothosia said. Releasing Ani’s hand, she stepped over the threshold of the entrance. Swallowing, Ani followed. Energy danced over her skin when she stepped through and entered the outskirts of Hell; little sparks of blue and red light fizzled about her body. She shivered. Everything about her was dark and cold. The smell of misery and death hung thick in the air, clawing at Ani’s body and mind. Evil permeated everything. She found it hard to breathe. The air felt oily and viscous in her lungs.
Behind her, the violet portal shimmered and closed, leaving another crack into Hell behind.
“Remember, deep, slow breaths Ani,” Anothosia cautioned. “Don’t let this place take you off your guard. If you allow it, Hell will suck you down and never let you go.” The smile had faded from her daughter’s face. Missa looked serious, focused.
Ani took a deep breath and tried to gather her nerve, thinking about all the people who counted on her. She thought of the sacrifices Calto and Queen Elise were making, of the honest and courageous people who fought on their side. Most of all, she thought of Missa and Larson. She wanted to show them both how strong she had become, wanted to show Larson she had found her faith and overcome the obstacles Hell had placed in her way. Ani wanted to make them both proud.
She would not falter. She would not give in. She would not give up.
Anithia raised her chin and pulled her shoulders square. By the Seven, she was the High Priestess of Omitan, and she had come to deliver some payback to the bastard who burned Loc Mir Forest and killed its inhabitants and caretakers. And for poor Starlite, who had no one to return to, no one to claim as family.
“That’s it Ani,” the goddess whispered. “Feel your power flow through you like the songs of the great rivers that cut into the land, letting nothing stand in their way. Remember the people who believe in you and need you; feel their strength, hear the songs of their souls.
Ani calmed her inner senses. The evil trying to steal her strength cried out, flailed at her defenses, broke apart and seeped away, becoming nothing more than background noise. Her inner melody grew, became a rhythmic and solid beat. Building on that rhythm, Ani began to form it into a white-hot glowing ball deep in her stomach, pulsating and alive. When the time was right she would release it upon Zorce’s legions, annihilating them all, making them sorry for what they had done and even sorrier for what they planned to do.
A brilliant white light flared from the moonstone atop Anothosia’s Staff of Justice. It pushed back the inky darkness engulfing the crude path, warming the air around them. As they walked, the path took on a distinctive shape, outlined by a reddish orange light. The remains of the battle, victims of hellhounds and other hellborn, were strewn carelessly about. Stray bits of bone and cloth, a shoe without a match, a head with a hand resting on top of it, and even a cloth doll lay on the path before them. It was a gruesome sight, and she knew it was only going to get worse the closer they got to the gates of Zorce’s Hell.
“There has been fighting,” Ani said, horrified by all the death. “The war began, but who are these people and how did they get here?”
“They are servants and friends of the gods,” Anothosia explained. “Descendants of those we took with us when we fled Terra to save it from destruction. Their ancestors entered my Garden, the pocket universe we created, long ago. These people fought in defense of the true world because they knew when Terra falls Garden will, too. They fought against hellborn who were weak in magic, so weak they managed to slip past the Hell Gate wards. Those escaped hellborn attacked the gate from this side, weakening it further, threatening its destruction before my pieces were set, and so my people volunteered themselves to this chore.”
She quieted for a moment, her expression sad and serious. “They were a willing diversion, Ani, a needed sacrifice so we could take Zorce unaware. Tens
of thousands joined in this battle, both old and young. None returned to Garden. They could not or Zorce would have discovered they did not originate from Terra. He now believes this battle is over and the Gates secure. It was our plan, mine and Trelsar’s, one agreed to by my people, but even I must admit the plan was wicked at its heart. Now then, gather your courage and follow along. I’m afraid worse sights await.”
Anothosia was correct. As they went deeper the carnage became more grisly. The sense that whatever the price, whatever the pain, Zorce had to be defeated, became clear and strong in Ani’s mind. She looked down at her baby walking beside her and felt a deep and biting sadness in that truth. They could die here, she and Missa, and the goddess along with them. They could die alongside these other thousands who had already passed.
Whatever the cost...whatever the pain.
Was she ready for the cost this venture might ask of her? Was she willing to risk her own life’s blood and her daughter’s? She didn’t think she had the courage displayed by Anothosia’s people. She doubted she could deliberately throw herself into a situation knowing all the while there was zero hope for escape.
Into this world we are born with a destiny, a path we all must walk. We are born to die in a specific manner and for a particular reason. How we walk it, either with great honor and strength or with deep shame and cowardice, are the only real choices we have.
Larson once said those words to her. She hadn’t understood them at the time. Now she did. Ani realized he had said them knowing a day like this would come. He said them, to his beloved, with the foreknowledge she might have to make this journey. The entire time they were together he had worked at preparing her for this. He molded her mind and shaped her soul, nurturing both with his unending love and cautious wisdom. Her stubborn hero of a husband had worked to make her into a hero— only she wasn’t doing this to be a hero. It was a title she never wanted. No, Ani was doing this because it needed to be done. Larson, she suspected, had felt the same way.