by Mark Eller
Her knight, her beloved husband, had died doing his duty, died knowing few regrets, died knowing the world was a better place because he had lived. It was a thin legacy, a hollow one without honor or glory or fame.
It had been enough for her husband. It would be enough for her, too. Ani firmed her resolve and fastened her eyes forward. The time was close. Too close.
They soon reached the black-boned gate which barred the way into Hell. Beside her, the goddess stopped walking. Looking down on her Anothosia, Ani saw the goddess’s eyes were sad as she gazed upon the site before them. To either side, coming to focus out of the shadows behind the gate, were hundreds of crucified hellborn, victims of the hell god’s cruel wrath. Ani tried to jerk her eyes away from the sight of impaled males, females, and yes, even a few hellborn children, but she could not. Her eyes kept coming back to their desecrated bodies, hanging forlorn and forgotten, praying she would not see someone she knew. She forced herself to look at the horrors on the gate, to look at the hellborn Zorce had hung there because he thought himself betrayed.
Then her eyes came to the most piteous site of all. Gasping, Ani’s hand covered her mouth.
There, hanging outside the gates with all of his organs exposed, was a hellborn who could only be Mercktos. His face was ruined, but the remnants of his clothes and what she could make out of the devil’s shredded shape remained mostly the same. A rope, wrapped around his body, held him spread eagle on the bars. Fighting back a sob, Ani looked into his ruined face and shivered. Mercktos had no eyes, and much of the flesh had been peeled back from his skull. Flesh had been carved from his body, leaving gaping wounds and showing jagged, broken bones. Maggots and scarabs crawled over him, sliding into his open wounds, eating him one slow nibble at a time.
Anithia bit her lip and clenched her fists. She had hated Mercktos once, hated him for taking her baby, but in the end he had saved Missa, sacrificing himself and saving them all.
Ani looked away horrified and sickened. This piteous creature, disemboweled and dismembered, had once been Zorce’s second in command, his greatest source of inflicting pain upon humanity. Now Merktos was nothing but bits and pieces of rotted meat hanging on iron bars. Even when Ani hated the devil she had never wanted him to suffer a death like this.
Bile rose faster than Ani could stop it. Turning away, she threw up. When she had emptied the contents of her stomach dry heaves wracked her body, leaving her feeling weak and afraid. After long moments, she stood, but could only stare at the goddess. Where all the death, dismemberment, and impaling had only made her determination stronger, Merktos’s ending had stolen her nerve.
“My poor, sweet Merrac.”
Ani started when Anothosia walked up to the gate and laid her hand upon what was left of the devil’s leg. Hugging herself, her empty stomach spasmed. How could the goddess touch him?
“You have suffered greatly for me,” Anothosia said to the dead being. “Your sacrifice will not go un-rewarded.”
Drawing the sword from her hip, Anothosia sliced through the rope with one quick swing. Mercktos’s body fell to the ground in a pile of festering flesh and broken bones.
When his hand twitched, Ani jumped.
“Oh my god! Tell me he isn’t still alive!” She couldn’t imagine anyone or anything surviving such torment.
“He lives,” Anothosia answered. “Zorce will not allow those who betray him to simply die. Without our intervention he would have tortured and healed Merrac repeatedly until he broke his mind yet again. Zorce would have tortured him until the last remnants of the honorable man I once knew died completely this time; taking him beyond my healing.”
Ani looked at Mercktos. Tears of compassion and sorrow trickled down her cheeks. If he had not betrayed Zorce Tessla would never have found Missa, and Anothosia would have been destroyed.
“Anithia, do not cry for my friend. I will not leave him to this fate. At his core Merrac is a brave soul and a good man. One of the finest I have ever known.” Anothosia looked at Anithia; a calm and reassuring expression upon her face. “I made him a promise in my Garden. I promised he would be my Knight again. It is a promise I intend to keep.”
Taking her staff in both hands, Anothosia turned Mercktos over on his back, exposing his gaping chest. The staff burned a brilliant white when she pressed its end into the remnants of Mercktos’s heart.
The heart shivered, pulsed. Fibers whipped out of the broken chambers.
They weaved, intertwined, and re-formed muscle. Within moments the heart became whole. It began to beat, began to emit motes of strange wriggling lights of blue and white.
Anothosia laid her staff to the side. Drawing her sword, she stretched her other hand out over Mercktos heart. She drew the weapon across her palm. Instead of blood, bits of bright light poured from the wound, spilling onto his heart. The heart beat faster. The strange bits of energy sparkled and spread across his ruined flesh, knitting the torn pieces together, healing his desecrated body. Ani’s eyes went wide, unbelieving. The bits of Anothosia’s light reminded her of tiny spiders moving back and forth and up and down; industrious and purposeful.
“What are those things?” Ani whispered. Was this god energy? Were those things tiny servants of the heavens?
The goddess gave Ani a wide smile, one that reminded her of Missa. She laughed. “Those things are a blessing and a curse Anithia. They are what allow us a pretense of godhood and deny us peace. But that is a matter for another time. I am here to keep a promise to Mercktos. One long overdue.”
Ani wasn’t sure what Anothosia meant, but who was she to question the ways of the gods?
In the distance, a howl sounded. They had been discovered. Hellkind knew they had arrived.
“Well, whatever it is you’re going to do, you better do it now.” Ani peered nervously past the gates to the red sky beyond. The sound of clacking jaws and scrabbling claws echoed in the distance. As far away as the hellborn still were, there had to be thousands of jaws clacking and claws scrabbling if she could already hear them.
Anothosia nodded once and turned her attention back to the devil. The lights upon him grew intense and took on a bright blue tinge. Ani shielded her eyes as one last burst of power flared outward in a physical wave of energy that blew her hair away from her head and tossed her robes about her thin frame. When she finally lowered her hand she could not believe what lay before her.
A giant of a man lay on the ground, adorned in platinum armor. His hair fanned out around his head like a pool of liquid silver. His face appeared smooth and strong. His lips were full and… well… very kissable.
His eyes opened.
Anothosia opened her arms wide and laughed. “Arise, my friend, my knight in shining armor. Receive your weapon and my blessings.” Anothosia’s face shone with pride. With joy. Her damp eyes appeared hopeful. Laying the sword of truth across her palms, she held it out to Mercktos.
Mercktos stood, slow, careful, a smile upon his face, his eyes a brilliant sea green. Ani took an involuntary step back. The man was huge. Ani guessed him at no less than seven feet.
“Anna.” His voice poured from his mouth like honey, thick and sweet. “I knew you would come for me. I knew you would keep your promise. Thank you.”
Anothosia smiled, warmth and joy flowing from her being. “Merrac, I keep my promises. I forsake none. Here.” She stretched the sword out to Mercktos. “Take this. It is the Sword of Truth, forged by Throm, and will kill all in its path. No nano changed creature may stand before it, and it will give disrupt the nano net of all it slays, giving them the true death. It is good to welcome you back…to bring you home.” Tears spilled from Anothosia’s eyes. The nimbus about her body grew brighter, and Ani could feel love and joy pouring from the goddess’s being. It reminded her of how she felt for Larson…of the love they had shared.
Mercktos took the mighty weapon in his hand and gripped it tightly in his fist. A flash of light streaked from the sword’s tip, down its length, and into his body.
The blade seemed to grow to fit his height. What was once a short sword fit only for someone Missa’s size to carry had now become long and powerful, fit for the giant standing before them. The paladin’s eyes flashed with power. “I will not fail you my Ano. And never again shall I let my guard down even for a moment.”
“Hopefully, after today you will never have to worry about Zorce’s evil again.” Anothosia nodded once and then held out her hands once more. The air shimmered. Bits of light swirled between her palms until they formed a white plumed, silver helmet. The helmet’s face mask held the shape of a phoenix, decorated with an overlay of gold.
Mercktos took the helmet from her and nodded his approval. He placed it on his head. “Always the romantic, my sweet Ano.”
Anithia was amazed. Even with his head covered the man was beautiful. She had never seen anyone more handsome, more powerful. Mercktos looked like a god.
“Are you ready Ani?” Anothosia had turned her gaze upon her. “Not long past I told you Omitan’s followers were already here, and they are. All that is needed is for you and I too sing them awake. However, we must wait until Zorce’s forces are almost to the gates.”
Ani nodded. “I understand.”
Ani took up position on the goddess’s left and Mercktos to her right, sword in hand. In the distance, hundreds of misshapen bodies scrabbled over each other in their attempt to be the first to tear the flesh from the intruder’s bones.
Ani was afraid. She knew she shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t help it. Without thinking, Ani turned to the goddess and hugged her. Pretending the small body was still her baby, she kissed Anothosia’s soft hair.
“I love you Missa. Mommy loves you.”
Anothosia hugged her back, and for one precious all too brief moment Ani felt her sweet child’s presence.
“Have courage Mommy. Daddy and I love you.”
Anithia struggled to catch her breath. She shut her eyes tight against the threat of tears. She wouldn’t cry— not now. She would save her tears for when the war was over, because this was it. This was their last stand. It was all or nothing, and if they didn’t win sorrow was all any living human would ever know until the world folded and fell apart. Zorce and Athos warped the land by leaving Hell. All of mankind would drown in a river of tears and blood.
The screeching, howling, and yelling of hellkind was almost deafening now. Their stench was horrendous. The acrid smell of sulfur clogged Ani’s nose as well as the scents of unwashed bodies and rotted meat. Part of Ani wondered if she would ever breathe fresh air again.
The three of them stepped forward to stand immediately before the gate. Within moments the hellborn horde arrived with a cacophony of sound, of madness unleashed.
Then silence.
Dead, horrible, complete silence.
* * * *
“I think we are underdressed for the occasion,” Joss whispered when they stepped into the castle.
Tessla looked at the young magician, knowing she was supposed to smile. His comment was meant to break the tension. It was supposed to ridicule their fear and provide a sense camaraderie. His attempt at humor was a very human thing to do.
Except she was not human. Unlike every other spawn, she might never have been human. So far as Tessla could tell she had never owned any soul except for Dell’s. Before Dell entered her body she had never experienced a positive emotion or felt true pleasure. Dell’s soul had given her some concept of what it might mean to be human. It had enabled her to know the true meaning of a smile or frown, had allowed her to glimpse the real depths of joy and anger.
But that was all she possessed. Concepts. Pale wisps of real emotions. Humor was a foreign concept she had never understood.
Deep within, Del stirred, caressing her, filling her. He did not speak. That part of him was gone. In fact, she was not sure he retained any reason at all. Slowly, day by day, his humanity was dispersing, thinning. Those parts that were uniquely Del were being drawn away, sublimated through her flesh and dispersed into the air, pulled to the heavens. The true Dell was dead. His housing was consumed by birds and bugs and rot. His soul was slowly returning to its beginning. When it was gone she would once more be alone, only this time Tessla would know what she did not have.
She watched the others and reflected on how her lack of reaction to Joss’s quip might not be unusual. Jolson remained silent, his one hand raised, walking slowly, carefully, taking them to a wall where they were less likely to bump into one of the castle’s denizens. Bare sword bloody, Ludwig followed close behind Jolson, Harlo by his side. Ludwig looked pale, ill, and frightened while Harlo appeared grim with purpose. Tirelle gently stroked Ludwig’s arm. Her aura shimmered with bands of silver and grey. Sparkles of magical force twinkled throughout, holding her form together. Tirelle, too, was not human. She was not even real flesh, though Tessla thought she would have a hard time convincing Ludwig of the fact. Though she appeared to be a young woman with proper curves and a healthy sexual appetite, Tirelle was only energy and intellect shaped by thought into another woman’s form. She was an imperfect ideal set by Ludwig’s mind, given force by his desires. Without her husband Tirelle would soon revert back to a shapeless elemental spirit without the will to form thoughts or desires of her own.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Harlo whispered to Joss. He moved a few inches to the side to avoid a hobgoblin but stumbled into a werg. The werg growled and twisted around, but the contact was already broken and they were hidden once more. They were still safe, though the term was relative when they were surrounded by several thousand hellborn geared for war.
Joss clutched Anothosia’s book tighter to his chest with one hand and gestured toward Jolson with the other. “No choice. Nedross told me to come.”
“There ain’t no Nedross,” Harlo insisted.
Ludwig glanced at his friend and then at Jolson. “There is now, and I hate to tell you this, buddy, but I don’t think your god likes you all that much.”
“I don’t think he likes anybody,” Joss answered. “Mostly, he just looks pissed.”
Jolson led them to a small alcove. They followed, and then watched while he made a slight gesture.
Tirelle oozed jealousy.
“He set up an avoidance,” she whispered to Ludwig. “Just like that, he set up an avoidance. Look at him. Something like that would take half my strength, and he acts like it was nothing.”
“It doesn’t seem like big a deal,” Joss replied. “He doesn’t look a bit tired.”
Tirelle whirled on him and pointed a finger. She opened her mouth, closed it, and allowed her arm to drop. “Just take my word. It’s an incredibly complicated magic, charlatan. It takes more magic and control than you ever pretended to have.”
She looked around, tapping the toe of her right shoe impatiently. “What now? Do we just stand here all day?”
“We wait,” Jolson answered. He made a tying off motion and lowered his hand. “Athos is on the battlements. We can only reach him by the stairs, but there is too much traffic for us to go near them. No veil can withstand repeated physical contact. Once the element of surprise is gone we have no chance against a god.”
“But you’re a god,” Harlo protested. Drawing his knife, he flipped it in his hand. His movements were precise, without flaw. Tessla watched and considered herself warned. Harlo might not be the quickest man she had seen, but he was very controlled, and despite his affable exterior, inside he was cold.
“I am not a god,” Jolson corrected. “Many of my pieces remain scattered, and so I am incomplete. Only some parts of me have returned. In time others may, also. Many never will.”
“Seems sort of sloppy, losing so many parts of yourself,” Harlo observed.
“I know exactly where they are,” Jolson explained. “I just can’t reconnect with them. They are too changed, as am I.” Jolson nodded toward Joss’s possible bag. “Part of me is in there. In the salt. Much of me has spread through the streams where the salt has dissolved. No, the god
known as Flinstar is truly no more. I am Nedross, created of Flinstar’s leavings, created of Eric Jolson Flynt’s leavings, and created from the prayer’s of those who have worshiped a god who wasn’t supposed to exist…” His released a thin smile. “If you had not invented Nedross, Harlo Hilshire, the spawn named Jolson would never have gained enough will to escape Hell. We are here because you took a childish game and pretended it was real.”
“I’ll never let him do that again,” Ludwig muttered. “How long do we have to wait?”
Jolson shrugged. “I don’t know. A minute. A year. It depends on how effective your queen can be.
Chapter 12-- Assassin’s End
“Salt,” Mari said derisively. “Druid blessed arrows, a god in residence, and on and on and on.” Snorting, she rubbed her wounded hand across Elise’s face. “Sister dear, you must think me a fool.”
Elise rubbed the back of her neck and wondered if it would still attach her head to her body by the end of the day. Her neck ached, burned ice cold near her ear. She rubbed the spot absently and felt a shiver of sexual satiation surge through her body. The cold stabbed and vague images, threads of memory, sought release. She reached, saw a looming face, a promising smile, and the memory was gone. Ice stabbed deeper into her neck.
Elise shook herself and rubbed the spot harder. She felt weak and too aware of a dampness between her legs. Her erect nipples hurt where they pressed against the rough material of her workman’s shirt.
She gritted her teeth and concentrated. This was war. Her people were dying. Desire could wait until she was alone with Calto, if they both lived. In a few hours it would be morning, a time of hope. For now it was dark, and darkness was fear and fear was power to those born in Hell.
She looked at her sister and frowned.
“Only a fool would go up against an enemy with unknown potential Mari. Only a fool would pit their will against a god’s without the knowledge of divine intervention. Yes, sister, you are a fool, but my saying so won’t change your mind. You want position and power more than you value the lives of your people, so you will attack the castle without listening to my advice, and you will die.”