"You are not my father," she said. "And I have come to spit upon you."
Then come to me. You may do what you wish. You cannot harm me.
Lilit entered the chamber, looking on either side of the door. It was safe, she saw, and she stepped forward until the statue rose high above her head. She looked up at it in hatred, knowing this being was responsible for her existence. He had created her and her sisters out of his own pride and desire to rule.
How she hated him.
You have done wretched things, my daughter. You have killed your sisters without my permission.
"They were born to die," Lilit said, unflinching. "And I do not need your permission to do anything."
I am your creator. You will obey me, or I will make your suffering great.
Lilit laughed. "I am not afraid of you."
Good. That shows your strength. You are much stronger than Ach-Ia-gra.
"She is nothing," Lilit said. "I will destroy her, and inherit all of the power you have given us. It will be mine to wield, and you will fade into nothingness."
No. Do not forget that I am the source of your power. I created you. I gave you your strength. Without me, you are nothing.
Lilit was silent as she contemplated her next words. Kathorgo was right, and she had no response to his statement. He truly was the source of her power—of all of the Berujens' powers. Those that were left anyway.
Let me look at you. Let me touch you.
"How will you do that?" Lilit asked. "You are nothing but stone."
I inhabit this form you see. I can control it. I can animate it as I animated you.
"Fine," she said.
She reached up and unbuttoned her robe, letting it fall to the floor. She stood naked, waiting for whatever was about to happen. Then, a small cracking sound came from the statue, and the arms began to move slowly downward as if to embrace her. Curious, she stepped forward, allowing them to wrap themselves around her. The stone was warm and comforting. It felt like a true embrace, but not from a father. It was the embrace of a lustful lover.
You are perfection, my child. Of all of my creations, you are my greatest.
She felt the warm hands caress her body, squeezing her flesh in some places, and stroking it gently in others. She began to feel aroused, strangely enough. The stone hands were exhilarating and filled her body with desire. As they moved over her breasts, stopping to caress them, she leaned her head over to touch the stone with her lips. There was the taste of honey, and she lapped it up hungrily.
Your lust fills me with a dark desire. You have awakened within me something I have never felt before. Come to me now.
Before her very eyes, the stone garments that covered the statue fell away, revealing a large phallus that jutted up like a spike. She stared at it hungrily, felling the moistness run down her thighs. She looked up at the glowing eyes with a great desire. She would allow her creator this moment, and she would enjoy it as well.
Reaching up to wrap her arms around Kathorgo's neck, she pulled herself up and wrapped her legs around the statue's waist. Her lips touched his as she lowered herself onto him. A jolt of pleasure surged through her body then, and her mind became calm and clear as the divine spirit entered her.
Today, she knew, she would bear something more than hatred. Kathorgo's seed would find its way to her womb, and she would be the mother of some abomination she could not fathom—the spawn of a god of darkness and hatred.
Someone even more powerful than the Onyx Dragon.
For some reason he couldn't fathom, Randar found the whole scene arousing. Maybe it was the way Lilit so willingly exposed her body to Kathorgo, or maybe it was simply her litheness. Though slim and seemingly frail, her shape was simply divine and perfect. There was not a single blemish on her porcelain flesh, nor a single hair to be seen.
She was pure, dark beauty.
In any case, he found his hand slowly making its way down between his legs, if only to exert a small amount of pressure upon his manhood. Realizing the strangeness of it, however, he shook his head and padded silently away. If Lilit caught him fondling himself while watching her, there was no telling what she would do.
She could blast him to oblivion, or for all he knew she would knock him onto the floor and have her way with him. He realized that he wouldn't mind the latter so much. She possessed something that no other woman in the world could boast. It was an attractiveness exuded from possibly her dark soul or her earthly beauty.
The thought of it made his head spin.
It was when he reached the stairway that he heard the cackling laughter of Malthor. The necromancer stood leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs, his arms folded across his chest and an odd smile on his face. Randar stopped when he saw him, sighing as he let his head droop down until his chin touched his chest.
"What were you doing down there?" Malthor asked.
Randar shook his head, confused. "There is something about her, my friend. Something I cannot tear my eyes from."
"Indeed," Malthor said. "I find myself strangely drawn to her as well, despite the fact that I hate her with every grain of my being."
"What is it, do you think?"
Malthor shrugged, beckoning Randar to ascend the stairs. "Who knows?" he said. "But despite the fact that you prefer the company of other men, you are still a man. You can still smell a woman's scent, and it still stimulates the same areas of the brain."
"I have no idea where you get this knowledge," Randar said. "But it is fascinating. Come now, let us leave before she finds us."
Malthor chuckled. "Somehow I get the feeling that when she's finished, she will want more."
"I do not envy her manservants," Randar said.
"I do, sort of."
Randar laughed, following Malthor back into the ground level. He took one last look down before closing the door, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he would hear her moaning a final time.
He did not.
Erenoth stood before a black throne in the bowels of the tower. His journey there had been uneventful, with no obstacles or disturbances other than the presence of small man-like creatures that followed him the whole way. They were not aggressive at all, nor were they overly friendly, but they did guide him to where he stood now and took their places on either side of the large throne.
He looked at both of them, guessing that they wanted him to sit. However, despite entering the tower as Jodocus had suggested, he truly had no desire to sit on this throne, nor to meet the Dragon.
"What if I do not wish to sit down?" he asked, figuring the creatures would not answer.
The Dragon calls you, Erenoth. You will benefit greatly from heeding his call.
He was surprised, but curious. "How so?"
Do you see the statue of the dragon behind the throne?
Erenoth looked up. He had not noticed it before, but there was a statue there, its wings spread, with the hooked claws grasping the top of the throne. It was made of the same black stone, menacing, and truly divine.
"Is that the Dragon?"
No, Erenoth. That is you.
"What?" Erenoth blurted out, stepping back. "That is not me. I am here. I am a man, not a dragon."
You are a man, yes. But soon, if you wish, you will be the Dragon's shepherd, and the hand of his word.
"What word?"
His divine word. He is a Firstborn. The most powerful of them. You will be his shepherd.
"Shepherd," Erenoth echoed incredulously. "I keep hearing that word. What does that mean?"
You will be his priest. When you are cleansed, purged of your sins, you will be anointed. You will serve as his High Priest for all time.
All time? Did that mean forever? Did he even want to live forever? Did anyone?
"What does this… position entail?"
You will speak for the Dragon, and be his fangs if need be.
"Be his fangs? You mean fight for him?"
Yes. You have already seen what weapons you will use.
; He had. He remembered the two young pointy-eared boys that left the blades—those beautiful blades. He wanted them badly, but if he was to give up the life of an assassin, what good would they be? Did he dare break a contract with Kalos? A contract arranged by a god?
"I am an assassin," he said. "I have responsibilities."
They will be purged as well, if you choose to join the Dragon. He will negate all contracts you have acquired through sheer will. You will no longer be enslaved to your masters. Your life will be dedicated to protecting the innocent, and ministering to those who wish to keep the Dragon's word. You will be the Protector of Eirenoch. The mouth of the Dragon.
Erenoth sighed. He did not ask for this; for anything. He came to the island to kill a mark, confirm the contract, and return to the brotherhood. That was all. There were no plans to stay for any reason, much less become some kind of priest. It was frustrating and confusing, yet intriguing at the same time. Could he do it?
"Give me some time to think about it," he said. "There is much to consider."
I understand, Erenoth. You may remain for as long as needed. If you decide to leave, you may do so at will. We will not interfere.
"So," he said, shrugging. "It's that easy, eh? I say no, you just let me leave?"
There is no reason to force you into anything. You must choose of your own free will. Only then may your sins be purged.
"You say purged. What does that mean?"
Purged of your transgressions. Cleansed of all evil.
Erenoth shook his head, still not understanding. It was as if the strange creature was hiding something.
"How?"
The Dragon will purge your sins. Only he may do so.
"That doesn't answer my question."
You have questions, seek the answers through truth.
Erenoth lowered his head in frustration. The conversation was going nowhere, and it seemed that the only way to get answers was to sit upon the throne and see for himself. That was not an acceptable answer, yet it was obviously the only one. Being cautious, he was never one to rush in to anything without thoroughly thinking it through. But then, his sense of adventure was tugging at him; urging him to do what he was asked.
Curious, he stepped forward, staring at the throne with a pounding heart. It was terrifying, yet he wanted to sit. He wanted it, if only to find the answers. As the tiny creatures watched him, he suddenly closed his eyes and sat down.
"There," he said. "I'm sitting on the—"
Blackness came.
It was hot.
Erenoth opened his eyes almost immediately upon waking. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, or if he had simply closed his eyes and opened them again. But the heat prompted him to look, and to his horror he was not in the same chamber any longer.
He was still upon a throne, only this time he was within a large cavern. It was larger than any cave he had ever seen, and the heat that surrounded him was almost unbearable. Unseen fires burned, giving off the smell of smoke and brimstone. The light of the many flames made the cavern walls glow, but there was no movement in the flames, only their orange glow.
Lava perhaps?
He stood, standing still for a moment while he listened. There was no sound at all, and the dead calm did nothing to soothe his fear. He stepped down, looking around. The throne was within a small alcove that opened into the larger cavern area. Ahead, it looked like a great rift was carved into the cavern floor, a chasm where the fires burned. Beyond it there was nothing but darkness.
…and breathing.
He stepped back as the breathing grew louder. It was the breathing of some large creature; a giant beast that knew he was there, and was ready to devour him. The terror was too much. He began to breath heavily, his skin crawling as he hyperventilated himself. But then, the voice came.
Erenoth, my friend. Come to me.
He froze. "Who are you?" he whispered.
You know me. Come forward so that I may see you.
"Can't you see me from here?"
Come forward, Erenoth. The purge must begin.
Erenoth took a hesitant step, keeping his eyes frozen on the darkness beyond the rift. He fully expected a dragon to come bursting forth, swallowing him up whole.
"Why must I be purged?" he asked.
The sins of your past must be stripped away if you are to move forward as my anointed one. You will be the first man to bear this title, and must be made clean before we can proceed.
"Proceed with what?"
With your training. There are things you must learn, and there are things that must be given to you. These are gifts which I will bestow upon you so that you may perform your tasks as my shepherd.
"And what do you want me to do?"
In the future, when my son regains the throne, you will lead his knights, and teach them my word. They will be your priests, and you will guide them. Daegoth is to be king, and you are to be his priest. Together, you will strengthen my presence on this island and make it safe for all who dwell here.
"Fine, then," Erenoth said. "I suppose I'm ready then. For what, I'm not quite sure."
There was a sudden rumbling as the Dragon began running forward. The cavern shook, and bits of rock and dust fell from the high ceiling. Erenoth nearly lost his balance, but caught himself just in time to see the Dragon's massive form as it stepped over the chasm.
Its giant clawed wing slammed into the rock, pulling the rest of its body over the rift. It walked on all fours, with its wings as arms, like a bat. Its massive head was scarred and horned, black-scaled, and sinister yet noble. As Erenoth stood frozen, the giant maw opened, and the head reared back, rising to the ceiling as the Dragon drew in a never ending breath.
Then, the head dropped, and a cloud of flame burst forth, engulfing Erenoth. He screamed in terror, thrashing his limbs about, hoping it was all an illusion. But it was not. The agony of his flesh burning tore his very soul. His skin dissolved in the scorching heat, and he could feel the agonizing pain of his bones cooking, cracking and splitting.
He fell back, thrashing on the floor as the hellish cloud consumed him. The pain seemed never ending, and though he wished for it all to end with death, the pain persisted. But then, the cloud gradually dissolved, leaving his body charred and flaming. He could no longer move, and he could feel his body dying, his mind shutting down, and the blackness engulfing him once more.
Chapter Sixteen
Stand up very slowly," the Ronin said with an odd accent.
Igrid looked at Rian, who seemed afraid for once. Whoever these men were, the rogue was scared of them, at least to a certain degree. She had escaped them once, and Igrid wondered if she had another plan to get out of this situation.
"Look," Rian said. "I don't have the jewel anymore. I sold it to a merchant in Fragea. There's no point in taking me back to the Sun King now."
"We will die before we dishonor ourselves with failure," the man said.
"You have obviously already dishonored yourselves since you are Ronin," Rian said.
Though the man's face was covered, Igrid could tell that Rian had angered him. Whatever her statement meant, she wasn't sure, as she had never heard of Ronin, but it sounded like they weren't exactly virtuous.
"What do you want in exchange?" Igrid asked. "We can pay you much more than the Sun King offers."
She nodded to Morrigan, who hesitantly nodded back.
"My friend here with the red hair is the daughter of a nobleman," Igrid continued. "He will pay you."
Morrigan nodded, smiling, playing along.
The man cocked his head, interested. "Nobleman, eh?" he said. "From where?"
"The Highlands to the north," Morrigan said. "My father is a nobleman of our clan. He's very wealthy."
The man was silent for a moment, until another of them grunted at him. He shook his head, pointing his blade right at Rian.
"What is this girl to you?" he asked. "She's nothing but a common thief."
"She is our friend,"
Igrid said. "And if you won't settle for gold, I'm afraid we'll have to fight you for her."
Rian grinned as the man lowered his blade and cocked his head once more.
"There are four of us," he said, chuckling. "Four highly skilled samurai against three tired-looking women? We would slaughter you in seconds."
"Fair enough," Igrid said. "But aren't you curious? Say you win. We'll be dead and you can take Rian back to the Sun King for your bounty. If we win, you'll be dead, so you won't have anything to worry about."
As the men chuckled and spoke amongst themselves in their language, Igrid slowly reached for the Alvar bow beside her. She could raise it and draw it quick enough, nocking an arrow and killing one of them before anyone knew what was going on. But she knew that the men were quicker than the average warrior. They were more like rogues, used to quick and efficient killing to avoid attention.
But it was worth the risk.
Igrid grabbed the bow as she rolled back, drawing and nocking an arrow and releasing it as soon as her knees hit the ground. The leader fell back, skewered through the chest. Rian's blade immediately went to work on the nearest enemy, drawing and slashing in one single move, severing the man's leg above the knee. As he screamed in agony, Igrid dropped the bow and charged, finishing him off with a slash to the back. Morrigan traded blows with another, their swords clashing with bright sparks. Rian threw a knife at him, and Morrigan finished him with a thrust to the gut. The remaining man dropped his blade, backing away in terror.
"I surrender," he said. "I don't care about the bounty. I'll go and never come back."
Igrid lifted her blade above her head, pointing its tip toward him. He began to tremble, swallowing hard.
"Are there any more of you?" she asked him.
"No," he said. "The others were killed at the port when she escaped."
Rian cocked her head curiously. "By whom?" she asked. "I didn't kill any of your men. Injured maybe, but not killed."
"Another ship's crew," the man said. "It was a young girl, I think, with a bow. There were others aboard that I saw, but they got away before we could even untie ourselves."
Igrid smiled, realizing that he was talking about Freyja. If she had been at the port, then she and the others were making good time on their journey to the south. The fact that they were aboard ship made the news even better.
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