The Ryle of Zentule

by Michael Green

  Andy hopped in place and stretched his arms; he bent over and lifted his knee to his chest. The ychorons stopped their work to watch.

  “It’s not that bad,” Andy said.

  When he was finished trying out his armor, they approached him with fine silver and blue robes. He stood still as they carefully applied the robes in layers.

  Andy thought they were finished, but a final box was opened. In it were four heavy obsidian bracelets. The interior of each bracelet was ringed in ryle script that flickered and pulsed.

  Andy recoiled when he saw the bracelets. He clenched his fists and sized up the ychorons.

  I can probably fight my way past them. His eyes traveled to the door. But out there…

  They sensed his intentions and looked ready to run from the room.

  He remembered his family.

  “Go on then,” he said, holding out his arms.

  They shared a long look before placing the bracelets on his wrists and ankles. It took two of them to slip the necklace over his brow.

  No burning. No pain at all?

  Andy felt his forehead and found his bronze laurel was missing. He almost asked about it but realized they would have no idea.

  “What are these?” Andy asked, inspecting what he supposed were his new shackles.

  They did not answer.

  They mustn’t be allowed to talk to me. If Ziesqe comes in and I’m asking them questions, he’ll probably think the worst and have them tortured.

  Andy cringed.

  And that would be my fault too.

  He sighed and let his questions go unaired.

  They led him to the door and held it open. Andy stepped out into a wide, plain hall. Every surface was cold slate gray. The way the hall was carved made Andy claustrophobic. The width of the hall and horizontal fissures running in the stone made it feel like the whole building was crushing down on him, even though the ceiling was well out of reach.

  He heard a wave of gibbering coming from nearby. The ychorons pulled him gently from the center of the hallway and pushed him against the wall.

  One end of the hall writhed with motion. Countless shapes stormed closer. As they approached, Andy recognized that they were slithers, thousands of slithers. He braced for the attack, but they simply charged past.

  In the center of the swirling mob, Andy spotted a severed ryle head. Bulbous and bearing more tentacles than a regular ryle, the thing was being carried by the horde. Instead of ears, it had large, bat-like wings it flapped to keep upright. It squealed and gestured with a tentacle.

  In a flash, the crush of slithers turned down another hall.

  Andy stared with wide eyes at the ychorons, who only seemed slightly annoyed at the delay.

  Resigned to never getting an answer, and satisfied that Ziesqe wasn’t within earshot, Andy still had to ask, “What the hell was that?”

  An ychoron gave him a sympathetic look.

  They led him down the hall and through a pair of wide, slatted wooden doors.

  Wow.

  A long pool of dark water ran down the center of this central hall. In some places there were benches and tables, and over the pool ran the occasional flat bridge, though these all lacked rails. There were stairs leading off the space, and other wide, slatted doors. Columns ran the length of the hall and occasional flashes of light shone from rectangular holes in the ceiling. Countless ryle heads milled about, each with an attendant group of slithers. A few convened in the pool, their heads leaned together in confidence. Ychorons rushed this way and that, each wore their unique piece of body-enveloping jewelry. He spotted a group of brutox, too. Tall, pale mantises guarded doors, while a troop of heavy beetles stepped silently over the polished floor, their greatswords resting on their shoulders. Several creatures stopped and stared as Andy came in.

  Andy was led down low stairs into the hall and realized, as he went, that the pool was wider than he thought.

  The proportions are off for everything in this place.

  He saw a large gorilla-like brutox harnessed to a cart, which was filled with massive slabs of ribs. Andy realized he was in something more akin to an indoor avenue than just a hallway.

  Running his hand over the hewn-stone, Andy peered into the rooms adjoining and saw eating halls, libraries, and rooms full of strange instruments and alchemical equipment.

  This place is huge. I could never make a run for it.

  As they approached the end of the hall, Andy realized that it didn’t end with a door or wall, but opened to the Netherscape. The rough slate floor continued outside unchanged. Light from the sky above flashed and reflected off the walls, floors, and weapons of the brutox. As they left the roof behind, Andy gazed up and saw the smooth walls of the structure reaching into the air.

  Multiple floors above.

  And higher still was a sky running wild with glittering bolts of lightning. He shielded his eyes.

  Andy heard the water jostle and looked over at the pool. A large mass of dark purple and green mottled flesh had parted the surface. A single red eye stared his way.

  Andy flinched and backed away, stumbling into the ychorons. They laid their hands on him, and he realized that they were trying to calm him.

  “What the hell is that thing? It isn’t a ryle—is it?”

  No answer came as the eye sunk into the black water.

  Andy shivered as his hand searched fruitlessly for the Argument that once rested in his pocket.

  The ychorons gently forced him to move again. They walked out onto a carved promontory. Andy looked out past the walls of the palace and saw thick jungle bristling in the wind and shining with moisture. The lightning storm in the sky was almost constant, and the perpetual shifting of light and shadow across the palace and the expanse of forest beyond made Andy’s stomach clench. The countless undulating boughs, thick with purple fronds and swaying vines moved like some nightmare ocean, concealing unknown terror.

  I feel like I’ve seen this before.

  A piercing screech nearly made him stumble. He looked over the promontory and saw centipedes the size of cruise ships wrestling inside stables larger than airport runways. Their clawed legs were as tall as trees and tore chunks out of the floor and walls as they clashed.

  “I have to be seeing things—it’s probably a trick of the light.” Andy’s jaw dropped.

  The fury of their struggle kicked up dust that swirled and obscured their spiky limbs. They filled the air with ear-piercing screeches and snapped their mandibles with such speed that Andy felt their cracking ring out. The sensation reminded him of overly loud music that rattles the bones. When he felt his body shake with the sound, he knew his eyes weren’t deceiving him; they were huge.

  Andy recalled Ziesqe’s speech to him from earlier. He stared at the ychorons, desperation in his eyes, begging for an explanation.

  Here I am, begging the fox faces for an explanation. Ychorons are the only thing my mind considers rational now.

  The thought was so absurd, he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry.

  “Those are the ravagers. Now, please hurry, or we’ll upset the Master,” said one, whose feathers were currently checkered blue and yellow.

  They pulled Andy away from the promontory and directed him to a long, gradual stair that led down into an expansive rectangular stadium. The walls of the pit, like every other surface he had seen, were immaculately angular, despite their hewn surface and the natural striations in the stone. A stadium, also carved like the pit, rose on all four sides. Wooden planks lined the seats, presumably for the comfort of these monsters. On the far side, beneath a red awning, sat Ziesqe.

  The seats were filled with ychorons and brutox, as well as dozens of other, full-bodied ryle. The sight of these other ryle was a surprise.

  They reminded him of Ziesqe, but he didn’t trust his eyes to tell the ryle apart; he had seen only two.

  All at once they noticed him. A hush came over the hundreds of creatures. Ziesqe stood and neared the edge of his
balcony. He held out a hand to Andy and gestured towards the pit.

  Andy’s attending ychorons led him to a side stair well, and they went down into a hidden armory.

  He was presented with tables full of arms, and then the ychorons turned and left.

  He wants me to fight.

  Andy felt his stomach sink.

  I must pick a weapon.

  Andy approached the first table and handled weapon after weapon. He found them all too heavy or cumbersome.

  I’m used to the Argument. It’s so lightweight that everything else feels ridiculous.

  Finally, he picked up the lightest blade, a rapier. The swept steel guard covered his hand as he gripped the weapon. It was delicate and pleasing to the eye.

  I’ll probably be killed.

  Andy turned to leave before pausing and grabbing a dagger.

  Just in case.

  He stopped again and chose a second dagger.

  He tucked one into the belt at his waist, and put the second inside the sandal wrappings that ran up to his calf.

  I’m going to die.

  Andy walked through the doorway and stepped out into the pit. A score of slithers were waiting for him. He felt relief at that.

  The slithers here look fleshy, not like the ones I saw at the ossuary fortress.

  Andy recalled his first battle at Cair Fromage. The slithers there had been like these. Andy knew the brutox also consisted of several forms.

  Ziesqe put a claw up to his mouth and then held it out to the crowd. They were silent.

  Ziesqe’s voice filled the arena, “Can you see it? Look past the boy and behold our primordial foe in his terminal brilliance. Recognize, if you can, the great privilege before us: that of bloodied history and her song unfolding, for a moment, in these halls.” He held out his clawed fist and pointed at Andy. “There it stands, reaching through a thousand pages and a thousand years alike to gift us these seconds. I will hear his feet on the sand, nothing else.”

  Andy sensed every creature in the stands clench.

  I’m a piece of history for them. Or maybe I’m more like an aged bottle of wine, something they will enjoy for a moment, and then forget.

  “Weigh the Seer!” Ziesqe’s voice snapped like thunder and the slithers attacked.

  Andy swung at the charging creatures, keeping them at bay. The group split apart and tried to encircle him. Andy swiped and struck one. It rolled across the ground and lay still.

  It isn’t inky.

  He rushed through the gap and spun to cut down another.

  The slithers changed course, but their plan was the same.

  Andy backed towards the wall to keep them from surrounding him. He swung and struck another, but felt a poke in his legs. He reached down with his free hand and grabbed the offending slither before sending it flying, like a discus, out of the arena. He realized the rapier wasn’t the best weapon for this foe. It was light, but as he swung, he realized that it was intended for stabbing thrusts, and these enemies were far too small to stab. He could only hope to catch one with a lucky slash.

  Maybe I can set them up.

  Andy leaped over a pair with a grunt and rushed to the other side of the arena before slowing.

  Let them catch up… and now!

  He turned and swiped in one fluid motion.

  A pair fell to the attack, but a third caught and held onto his blade before climbing towards him.

  “Get off!” Andy growled swiping with his free hand at the slither, while backing away from the others.

  He managed to slap it off his hilt, but not before another pair were up his legs, stabbing with their tiny blades as they went.

  Now I understand the tiny chainmail.

  Andy ignored the stabbing and stomped a foot down onto one, before slashing another in two. He reached and grabbed for one slither, but it stabbed him in the hand, and crawled to the small of his back.

  “So that’s how it is?” Andy yelled, slamming his back against the wall, and crushing the elusive creature.

  The last slither had stopped stabbing him. Andy felt all over for it and turned around. He spotted it climbing up the pit to escape.

  Andy took a deep breath. That wasn’t as easy as I’d hoped.

  He wanted to check and see if he was bleeding, but he felt that the wounds would be tiny, like dozens of pinpricks. Andy hoped their weapons hadn’t been poisoned.

  There was a murmur in the stands. Andy saw Ziesqe with his right elbow on his left knee, and his tentacled chin resting on his palm.

  What am I thinking? Poisoned needles? They put armor on me, and Ziesqe could have me killed at any time. They have no need for poison.

  Andy stood and took in all the faces. Those faces, however, were concerned with Ziesqe.

  What now?

  After a long moment, Ziesqe got to his feet and swept a glance across the audience.

  Andy saw the creatures shifting uncomfortably.

  “Striped, pale mantis. Subdue him without a weapon,” Ziesqe commanded.

  A mantis brutox shot to its feet and in two bounds was flying through the air. Its wings, startlingly pink, flashed for a moment as it landed soundlessly in the pit.

  The creature was twice his height.

  Andy raised the rapier. For a moment he felt pity for the monster standing before him.

  Does it have no choice? It has to subdue me, while I have to kill it.

  Andy scowled up at Ziesqe.

  The mantis saw this and lunged; its vicious serrated arms suddenly spread wide.

  In the moment before it collided with him, Andy realized, It doesn’t need a weapon!

  The mantis slammed into him. He felt massive pressure clamping down on his ankles.

  The mantis pulled, and he felt the floor slip out from beneath him. He was being held upside down. Andy stabbed with the rapier, but the mantis’s other claw slapped the weapon away. The mantis turned and presented Andy to the audience with the barest trace of a flourish.

  The crowd erupted with guttural cheers. Andy reached for his waist and found the dagger there. He pulled himself up and stabbed the mantis between two plates on his underarm. The beast cried; a clicking moan echoed across the arena. Its limbs slackened, releasing Andy, who rolled to his feet and plunged the dagger into the mantis’s midsection.

  He felt the immense pressure again. This time it had caught him around the chest, making it hard to breathe. He was lifted again. The mantis clamped down harder, and he heard his robes shred. A moment later he felt a pop as the mail links beneath tore apart.

  The mantis stared him straight in the eye before using its mandibles to clamp down on his hand.

  Andy screamed as it bit into his wrist.

  The crowd was wild with excitement. Ziesqe held out a claw and there was silence, but the mantis ignored it all.

  Andy felt his vision tunneling as he gasped for air.

  The mantis twisted its mandibles, forcing Andy’s hand back in an unnatural direction. Finally, Andy heaved in a breath and dropped the blade. The mantis released his hand and instead snapped at Andy’s face. He felt a slash across his cheek.

  Andy grasped the mantis by its plated throat with one hand and held its snapping face away. With his injured hand he reached down to his ankle and fumbled for the dagger there.

  The mantis realized, but it could only strike with its wounded arm. With some chainmail still resisting, Andy shrugged off the blow.

  Andy stared into the creature’s eyes as he lifted the blade.

  It knows what’s coming.

  He tightened his grip on the dagger, raising it high, and plunged it into the mantis’s throat. The pressure on his chest released, and he tumbled to the floor.

  The mantis clutched at its throat for an awful moment before finally surrendering, its pink wings flexing open in the final moment.

  He stared at the creature’s broken and bleeding body, while his own shook with pain. His robes were shredded and even the mail beneath was torn apart in pla
ces.

  Andy felt unexpected sadness for the now lifeless creature. Its broken body, somehow beautiful in death, where it was terrifying in life.

  The crowd was silent. Andy slowly turned from his foe, afraid to face the crowd, but equally afraid to stare for any longer. He looked up and watched Ziesqe, who sat in silence.

  The creatures, unsure of how to respond, whispered cautiously and kept their eyes on Ziesqe, who finally stood and spoke, “I fought this Seer on the coast outside the Python’s den. He wielded a piece of the Argument.”

  There was a murmur, but Andy saw this was common knowledge.

  A few of them were probably there.

  “I assumed it was a fluke. Of course, every now and then a Seer slips through the cracks. Even less commonly, one stumbles upon the Argument.”

  This seemed reasonable to the audience.

  “But this boy fought before us, armed with metal blades, not artifacts of the conflict.”

  That brought them all to silence.

  So what? Of course it would have been easier with the Argument.

  Ziesqe held out a hand and stared into the distance.

  “Can you hear it?” His voice finally came, soft and with a hint of pain. “Can you see it around us? The extinct hand of humankind. The boy speaks with the Voice of the Dead God. Yet, there is no sign of the Usurper.”

  This caused a commotion. Ziesqe lowered his hand and cocked his head in disapproval as the crowd grew bolder with its disagreement.

  A loud ychoron flared bright red and yelled, “The child is a skilled fighter, yes, but it must have been luck!”

  Whoa. That guy’s headed for an execution.

  Many others complained openly, and this shocked Andy, considering how servile they had been until now.

  Something about what he said was too much for them.

  Ziesqe raised a claw. “You forget yourselves,” he said.

  The crowd came to its senses and quieted.

  After a long stare at the loud ychoron, now colored black, he spoke, “That mantis would have felled a dozen humans. But here, something else spoke to us. It reached out and stabbed your brother through the throat.”

  The crowd grumbled.

  “Let’s be clear, friends! Look at him, go look,” Ziesqe snapped a claw, and growled a command Andy couldn’t hear.