Wrath of the Risen God: Arcane Renaissance Book Three

by Tim Paulson

  “He arrived downstairs but then disappeared again. I believe he may be on the roof.”

  “Damn!” Buckley hissed as a scantily clad young woman with short dark hair carefully slipped past him and headed to the door, still pulling a long dark dress over her head.

  Short with short dark hair and an athletic build. The girl reminded Aaron of... someone.

  “Golem, we're going upstairs, now.”

  Aaron stood at attention, waiting for Buckley to take the lead. He always did.

  “What about proper dress sir?” his assistant asked.

  “No time,” Buckley replied, drawing his robe closed with the ties. “Just make sure that anyone in the hall is aware of the consequences of discussing any perceived impropriety.”

  The assistant's eyes drifted toward Aaron. “I will sir.”

  They exited the office and went upstairs.

  To Aaron's surprise, Buckley didn't hesitate at all. He walked right up to the door and stepped out onto the roof of the building, his head high, his partially open robe trailing behind him as he stepped into the newly fallen snow with bare feet.

  Aaron followed him.

  Narael was already there, standing silently at the edge with one jointed foot upon the lip of the facade. His skeletal fingers were clasped behind him as he stared out into the distance, toward the harbor and the docks. There was a mist there that obscured the ships drifting in and out, back and forth.

  “How is the front?” Buckley asked.

  Narael waved a single hand dismissively. “The same.”

  “I heard we took Aeyrdfeld. You ought to be pushing west into the Empire,” Buckley said as he walked closer to the sorcerer, but still keeping his distance. He feared him, Aaron knew it.

  “Your army had need to pause and take on supplies. They will be ready in two days. Then the march begins,” Narael said.

  “So... is that why you've come?” Buckley asked. “To tell me-”

  Narael spun around, his left hand flicking out, the fingers outstretched. Buckley's words cut off as he was lifted bodily from the ground, his arms and legs suddenly taught, as if he were being stabbed with a hundred pins at once. His body then slid through the air to come to a stop a foot in front of Narael.

  “I have not come to report on your idiotic campaign.”

  Buckley's breathing was restricted like his lungs were being held by the same invisible, ethereal fingers that gripped his body. Invisible to Buckley, but Aaron could see them. They were thin translucent threads of golden power, emanating from the wizard and they wrapped Buckley's body like the tentacles of a squid.

  “Tell me, salave. Have any of my seekers returned?”

  Though he could not speak, Buckley shook his head.

  The golden face leaned in. “Are you sure?” His body turned, moving Buckley's body to hang out over the edge of the building, his robe flapping open in the winds, exposing his shame to all the birds of the rooftop.

  Could this sorcerer not use his power to probe Buckley's mind? Aaron wondered why not? Perhaps they had limitations? Or maybe it was more like specializations, like the schools of the institute that taught the details of how to engineer a goliath only to the engineering technicians. Perhaps there was more knowledge involved than even he had suspected.

  “Yes,” Buckley lied, whispering through whitening lips, his eyes flicking down. “Sure... Nothing.” His eyes then moved to Aaron as if he expected a rescue.

  Aaron felt no such need. In fact, he felt rooted to where he was, like a statue on the top of the building, carved when it was first made.

  “Your golem cannot save you from me. I created him. He may serve you but he will always obey me.”

  Buckley was starting to choke where he hung, unable to breathe fully, terrified. As if to punctuate his powerlessness, he urinated. The stream arced down onto his own building.

  Narael made a noise of disgust and waved his arm back, pulling Buckley from the air. He landed on the flat surface of the roof with a grunt.

  Please, Aaron thought, ask me about those things you made. Ask me. I'll tell you what we did, what I did. I'll tell you where he took it.

  There was no response. The sorcerer didn't even glance at him. Instead he turned back to the water.

  Buckley was still gasping for breath, trying to lever himself up with arms too stiff and cold to move correctly.

  “They should have found it by now, twice over... Perhaps my search is in vain,” the sorcerer said. “It may be... that after all this time, I've won.”

  “Won... what?” Buckley asked.

  Narael made a noise very much like a chuckle.

  “Why the world, of course,” he said. He turned around, looking at Buckley. “Get up, we're going somewhere.”

  Buckley was just getting to a sitting position. “Wh...where?” he asked.

  “Golem, pick him up,” Narael directed.

  Aaron moved immediately, gathering Buckley in his arms.

  The sorcerer made motions with his hands that Aaron recognized immediately. Transportation.

  There was a flash and they were standing on a mountain top.

  Aaron couldn't believe how high they were. It was astounding. Other mountains, an entire range of them, no... a whole continent of them, stretched off into the distance farther than he could see.

  Buckley was gasping in his arms.

  “Come, there is little air here. He must be brought inside,” the sorcerer said.

  The sun was in a different location as well, Aaron noticed. The sky was filled with a pale roseate glow as the sun ducked down toward a line of mountains to his right. It was evening here, where at home it had been late morning. What did that mean? They'd moved across the globe by an incredible amount.

  Narael walked down a short path toward what looked to be a small hollow in the side of the mountain itself.

  How much had they just traveled? A simple proportion could give Aaron a general idea. From mid-morning to the middle evening. That would be around eight to nine hours. The day was divided into twenty-four, meaning they'd traveled at least a third of the way around the globe.

  Incredible!

  Buckley was clawing at Aaron's golem hands now, trying to escape, but Aaron could not let him. He'd been ordered to carry the man.

  Narael did something along the wall and what had been a solid block of stone opened into a large doorway with a hiss of escaping air.

  They proceeded down a hallway, which illuminated itself as they approached. The walls were bright white and perfectly smooth except in a few places where there were indentations and crenelations that appeared to be decorative. Symbols of all sorts graced the walls as did stone figures. This was very much like the city Aaron had seen before, only not destroyed. It was as if it had been carved from the rock just yesterday. There wasn't even any accumulation of dust.

  Behind them, the door slid closed with a hiss.

  “Bring Buckley along. I wish for him to witness my rebirth.”

  “Why?” Buckley asked. He'd ceased trying to escape and was now allowing himself to be carried like a swaddled babe. Aaron kept walking behind the sorcerer as they delved deeper into the perfect white world.

  Vaulted ceilings hung above them with incredible frescoes depicting things Aaron couldn't even begin the fathom while on occasion the floor would simply end, revealing at a dark chasm. He had no context in which to place these things.

  At one point Narael simply lifted his feet and floated twenty feet across an empty open hole to nowhere and Aaron was forced to follow by going around the side. It was like being inside a house made by gods with not a single care for the concern of the mortals who might visit them.

  They wound through white halls and tunnels for a while, descending constantly. Down, down, and down they went, at multiple angles, before finally arriving at a room with the tallest vaulted ceilings of all. It was difficult to even grasp the scale of it, and Aaron had been in many large goliath stables. This place made the upper stabl
es at Aeyrdfeld and king's stables in Valendam look like playhouses for children. No wonder they'd chosen such a gigantic mountain.

  “What is this place?” Buckley asked, his voice hushed with awe.

  He tried to disentangle himself from Aaron's arms but could not.

  “Set me down you stone oaf!” he snapped.

  Narael looked over and nodded, so Aaron released the company man, still wearing only his robe.

  “This is Badgaldingir Kurgal, it is a temple... a place of supreme perfection. From here, the world will live again,” he made a sweeping gesture with his arms.

  With the great scale of the ceiling, it had been hard for Aaron not to focus up, but as he looked upon the floor he started to gasp. There were thousands of egg-shaped chunks of smooth white stone. All were arrayed like spokes on a wheel to small spires that pointed up from the floor like the stalagmites of a cave.

  The sorcerer stepped up to the closest of the towers where one of the stone eggs looked different from the others. Aaron wasn't sure that Buckley would be able to see it, but Aaron's golden eyes could tell. There was a glow to it, a power, and inside there was a form.

  The form of a man.

  “Golem, you will remove the green stone from this body I wear now and place it here,” he gestured to a slot on the front of the egg. “If Buckley decides to interfere, tear him apart.”

  “I would never!” Buckley protested, but his frown said otherwise.

  Aaron stepped forward as Narael turned around. At the back of his neck, a slot opened on its own, revealing the green stone. As his stone fingers reached for it he thought only of how much he wished that he were in control. He could smash the...

  What had he been thinking?

  “You idiot,” Buckley said. “That was our best chance to stop him. God only knows what he'll do now.”

  Aaron looked at him.

  Oh yes, he was standing in front of the nearest of the stone eggs, having just put Narael's green stone in the slot. To his right, the white mechanical frame that Narael had been inhabiting was now bent over on the floor, kneeling with its head nearly kissing the stone.

  As he and Buckley watched the green stone went dark and disintegrated. Only a few seconds later, there was a loud hiss that caused Buckley to jump like a startled hare. Then the egg opened at a seam Aaron hadn't even realized was there. Inside was a green gelatinous fluid that seemed to be evaporating into the very air itself. In the center of the fluid was a thin young man. He wore only a loincloth over his extremely light skin, almost pure white. Long blond hair cascaded from his shoulders, perfectly straight and smooth. When his eyes opened, they were a bright, iridescent yellow.

  The young man sat up and smiled.

  “Zi Dingir Kia Kanpa!” he said.

  Aaron knew the meaning: “Spirit Gods, of the World, Remember!”

  Narael stepped out of his cradle and raised both arms to the heavens, looking up at the vaulted ceiling above.

  “Kanu Sarru Salmat Qaqqadi taruuuu!” he bellowed, his words echoing around the chamber.

  Aaron knew this as well.

  He'd said: “The true kings have returned.”

  * * *

  Celia smelled something. It smelled like... food.

  Her eyes opened to find a full tray beside her. It had toasts and smoked herring, eggs, and beans. The smell... it was heavenly.

  “Oh God!” she said. Bending over in the bed.

  A bed? When had she been moved to a bed? It was a nice one too. Comfortable, clean. No lice or fleas biting her, only the faint scent of peppermint and setheren to treat the bedclothes and kill the crawlies. Only the best places had things like this, real Inns where you had to pay! It'd been months since she'd been in such a place. Not since her quarters in Aeyrdfeld.

  The walls were clean as well, save for a few simple pictures of flowers and windmills. There was one one door, currently shut, and two little windows with drawn curtains covered with a pattern of black tulips.

  The smell of the food drew her attention back however and she returned to it, trying to pull herself closer, but found she was stuck. A quick glance beneath the bedclothes found that her lower half been tied to the bed. Her right lower leg was bound and wrapped.

  Right. She'd broken it.

  How long ago had that been?

  It might have been minutes but the stiffness in her body said otherwise. Maybe days?

  The food called to her, its luxurious scent filling her nostrils with every breath. With some effort, she was able to reach for and catch the edge of the table with the food and slide it closer. It was tricky and her arms were weak, but she managed it. Patience was a virtue often required of the poor and she'd learned it well.

  Sweet sugared beans were her reward. All of it was good, every bit. The bread, amazing. The beans, delicious. The herring... it was herring, what could you do? Even that was palatable, it had been cured in salt and smoke and melted in the mouth. There was even fresh salted butter for the bread though she didn't realize it until the last of the bread had already passed her lips. Instead, she used her fork and scooped it right into her mouth. It was so smooth and salty. It nearly made her cry.

  It seemed like only seconds had passed before the entire plate was clean. She even lifted it twice, inspecting for any lost crumbs.

  The door opened and a dierlijt appeared. She was one of the dog-like keralti, an older one. Celia suddenly felt very exposed, like she wasn't supposed to be in nice a place like this. Like perhaps the food hadn't been meant for her and she'd stolen it from the person who'd paid for it.

  “That was quick!” the dierlijt said. “I just left a second ago for your pitcher of milk.”

  “Milk?” Celia said, tears misting her eyes.

  “Yes! We don't always have it, but in the winter it lasts longer and with the armies out of the city demand has gone down, that's what the milk merchant was telling me anyway.” She looked concerned. “Was there enough food? I thought I'd start you light given you've been eating nothing but broth for the last week.”

  “I can have more?” Celia asked.

  “If you think you can hold it,” she replied as she placed the whole pitcher down along with a short glass. “I'd rather not be cleaning up a pile of sick.”

  Celia nodded. “Oh please. More.”

  “Alright then,” she replied. “I'll be right back.”

  “And... If you'll tell the owner... thank you.”

  The keralti narrowed her eyes. “I am the owner dear, and you're welcome. I'll tell the boys you're up.”

  “Thanks,” she replied as the small dierlijt closed the door behind her. Celia carefully tilted the pitcher, filling her glass to the very brim with milk. It didn't take long for her to down the entire glass. It was so cold and fatty, with a hint of the scent of grass.

  She sighed.

  “This... is like a dream. Whatever it is... I don't want it to end,” she said, pouring herself a second glass and leaning back against the pillow.

  Footsteps were thumping down the hall.

  Celia had an idea who it might be and she was not disappointed.

  The door whipped open and Kev appeared, a huge smile on his face, showing off his enormous canines.

  “You're awake!” he said, rushing up to wrap his furry arms around her neck.

  Celia froze, not sure what to do but trying to save her milk.

  “I... have... milk!” she gasped.

  “Milk?” he said and grabbed the pitcher.

  “Hey!” Celia snapped, but he'd already lapped his tongue into it.

  “Oh... is this yours?” he replied, white droplets of milk speckled across his neck fur like morning dew.

  Celia sighed. “Not anymore.”

  “Great!” he said and slurped up several large gulps. “I can't have too much of this. Dierlijt have trouble with milk... gives us the poppers.”

  Poppers? Oh... farts.

  “You're looking much better!” he added. “You had a fever for a while. I
was worried.”

  Celia took another long sip from her cup, savoring the cold creamy milk. “I feel good. Weak, but good.”

  Kev nodded. “He said that would happen. He told me to feed you broth whenever I could because you were so thin. There's a crutch for you next to the bed. That'll help you get around for now but he says you won't need it for long.”

  “We're talking about Vex,” she said. He'd said that healing wasn't his thing. She was pretty sure she remembered something like that. How was he going to accomplish fixing her leg then?

  Kev nodded again. “Yep... he's got a plan... it's pretty great.”

  “What is it?” she asked, sipping her milk.

  Kev looked to the side. “Uh... I don't actually remember. He said some things... Uh...”

  She held up her hand. “It's fine. Can I see him?”

  “You will. He's in a meeting right now.”

  “A meeting? With who?”

  Kev smiled again. “I can't say.”

  She frowned. “Why not!”

  “Because we don't talk about it. It's not polite.”

  Celia rolled her eyes.

  The door opened. The female keralti had returned carrying a large tray. There was chicken, and bacon and turnip mash, slathered in butter.

  Celia's eyes went wide. “Wow...”

  “Like I said... go slowly. You're skin and bones and you've had naught but broth for nearly a week.”

  “I will,” she replied. “Oh of curiosity... do you know Vex?” she asked.

  “The little demon doll? Oh yes.”

  “I thought... I thought the dierlijt hated demons...”

  “Oh, we do,” she replied. “However, desperate times my dear, call for desperate measures.”

  “Kev told me he's meeting with someone.”

  “Oh yes, the old mother. I'm happy to have her. She's a blessing let me tell you. Always has something useful to say.”

  Kev glared. “It's not polite to discuss her.”

  The keralti winked. “I own a brothel boy, I'm not particularly polite.”

  “This is a brothel?” Celia said.

  The other two nodded.

  “Don't worry, you don't have to work like that,” Kev said.

  The other tilted her head. “You could though... if you put on a few pounds.”