Gods of Shadow and Flame

by M. H. Johnson

  Her terrible smile spoke of having embraced unthinkable depths of corruption and power, her very aura radiating vilest potency such that the massive army before her shook with dread and twisted bliss. And it was her army they faced, utterly devoted to their vile mistress. Of that, Malek had no doubt. And the most horrid realization of all, Malek found, more chilling than the awful aura that pulsed and throbbed from her hideous soul, more dreadful even than her terrible, knowing smile, was the sick sense of familiarity Malek felt upon gazing at her.

  For all that he knew that the awful thing before him had no place in the living realms, had never walked the face of Dawn as a mortal woman, on some level, on some horrific level, she was familiar to him. And not just features agonizingly familiar for reasons he resolutely pushed away. He had seen this creature before. Smelled her before. Recognized her vile, knowing smile, her hideous aura. And the growl he felt reverberate through his frame made it quite clear her familiarity was an unwelcome thing indeed.

  Again that horrid peel of baleful mirth. Discordant, revolting, strangely familiar.

  And then the terrible monster before them, inhuman seductress and unmistakable queen of Hell, spoke. Her lilting voice caressed words that were infernal in origin, so horrible in nuance and cadence, so fraught with power, that Alacabar and Lucienda both shook and hissed, snarling their loathing even as blood began to trickle from their ears, even as Malek found himself instinctively forming a brilliantly complex web of blood and crimson magics, gently touching both of them, his blood-weave protecting their souls from rupturing under the added strain of infernal words spoken within the very bowels of Hell.

  Why Malek himself was not affected, how he was able to understand the terrible language spoken, let alone ward his friends, were things he did not choose to contemplate, his mind plagued by enough horrors, past and present.

  “Morlekai! You who once strode the heavens with wings of brilliant flame, a Celestial Power blazing upon the midnight skies. You, a keeper of order and knowledge, military prowess to which all mortals excelled, Fallen! Fallen for daring to forge your own path. For daring to exercise your own will! Fallen, like all of us who dared to challenge the ordained order, to travel roads fools and cowards feared to tread!”

  She laughed then, and her laughter was madness. Malek turned to gaze at his friend, even now radiating a power unveiled, one that shook Malek to the quick even as it redeemed him, with shock and a chilling recognition. Somehow, he realized, he had always known that Morlekai was far, far more than the mercurial Delver that he pretended to be. And they had not always been friends.

  “Why oppose us, dear Morlekai? Join us! Have you not grown weary of herding the little maggots to your whim? Do you not realize there is far more pleasure, far more glory to be had in crushing them entire? Even as their bodies burst before your true might, their souls, their sweet delicious souls, dear Morlekai, would shriek to your every whim for all of eternity! You need but tear them free of their festering mortal breeding grounds and take your place among us, as a prince of Hell! Forge your own Domain in the endless Abyss. Let thousands of our hellions bow to your might as you take up banner and arms in my army upon a quest, a campaign truly worthy of a Celestial Power who dares use his might as he sees fit; the conquest of the mortal realms, and one day, the Heavens themselves!”

  Morlekai’s smile was bleak and cold, brilliant golden eyes flashing with terrible knowledge that gave even the mad queen before him pause.

  Sound itself seemed to bend to his will. Morlekai spoke into that terrible stillness.

  "Lilith. She who once strode the Heavens upon wings of ivory, bold and beautiful, docile by her father's side. She whose smile had once brightened the sun, who's gentle caresses caused all things green and growing to blossom under her loving gaze." He shook his head, fury momentarily banked, expression one of deepest pity. "Yet, vision of beauty that you were, you could not hide the gnawing fear in the depths of your once pure heart, nor the folly of questing for that which you had been forbidden to seek."

  Morlekai’s words rang with bitter regret. And the solemnity of undeniable truth.

  “For the knowledge of beholding your own mortality horrified you. The knowledge that one day, even angels must die. So that divine light, pure and innocent, may be born anew. A sacrifice asked of all of us who walk with divinity’s grace as our most sacred blessing, that most solemn duty to give of ourselves. To love. To sacrifice.”

  Malek found himself gazing in awe, speechless with wonder as his friend's noble spirit seemed to glow from within, basking all before them in a cleansing silver-blue light, no few of the hideous monstrosities across the vast gully hissing in sudden pain.

  “But you were afraid, dear Lilith. So terribly afraid. And when your father bid you seek prophecy, you heeded his council, despite the dire warnings of those who had known the cycle of the Heavens for millennium. And when your father bid you to look at your own finite lifespan, your own drop of existence in the sea of wonder and beauty that was the ocean of life itself, instead of finding joy and solace in being a part of something far greater, in losing yourself to a wondrous whole, you fled. In fear, terror, and loathing, you fled.”

  Morlekai’s tone hardened, ringing with the harsh pronouncement of one called to judge, at last passing sentence. "And when your father Fell, breaking all sacred trusts and covenants, spurning all commitments and devotions to the eternal powers that granted us all life and salvation, you followed in his footsteps, too afraid to think for yourself, too afraid to waver!

  "So I renounce you, Lilith, once of the sun and moon, and now Fallen. Lost! A cowardly wretch who scurries in the dark foul reaches of these broken lands, feeding like a sickly spider upon the castoff remnants of men and women who had long since fallen from grace, only to suffer a thousandfold for their folly, tormented by those who had once been ordained to save them! To redeem them! Now but the source of your own tragic folly, your own unforgivable vice!

  "I renounce you, Queen of the Damned, as I renounce all of your Fallen brethren. It is for this reason I cast off my wings, Lilith the Coward! To eternally guard the shadowy ways between Dawn and Oblivion. To destroy any and all wretches who would dare to invade the realms of mundus. To cleave from desperately held life any who would dare to violate the sacred treaty made by Paladins of Yis, guardians of the sacred Tree of Life, and the worlds under her care!"

  Morlekai’s voice, solemn at first, had risen to a roaring crescendo, the ground rumbling and cracking, his celestial words causing the vast army of demons, fallen cowardly souls one and all, to scream and quake, in agony and shame.

  “Gods above, man, what are they saying?” Alacabar grimaced with barely suppressed panic.

  Clipped and curt, Malek found the words that needed to be said, understanding how simple it all was. "The opposing general is Lilith, a queen of Hell. One of a host of angels that fell to the Abyss to escape the cycle of life and death, feeding on mortal souls to prolong their existence for eternity, even as they forge the castoff remnants that have utterly capitulated into hideous slaves to fight by their side. Lesser puppets, in constant torment, allowed respite only when they embrace their own blasphemy, only when they have sufficiently pleased their masters." He gazed almost apologetically at Morlekai even as their leader roared at their enemy.

  "And Morlekai is also one who once soared the Heavens. He fell by choice. Fury and vengeance fueled his fall. Not cowardice. Not weakness. And he has used his fall to protect the lands of the living, which is why he is still aligned to the Heavens above, and walks the lands we know and love, eternal enemy to the demons below. For all that I suspect pride was his downfall, his love of man is his salvation. Protective rage, not malice, fuels him onward."

  "By all the Hells and all that's holy!" Alacabar gazed at Morlekai's fierce countenance, glowing with a pure righteous fury, in awe and wonder.

  "In order to destroy our enemies and protect ourselves, sometimes we must be even more ruthless than they.
Our hands as steeped in blood and treachery as theirs." Lucienda gazed at Morlekai with a look of such adoration that Malek's heart lurched in painful sympathy, realizing how very much she loved their brave, reckless fallen angel forever there to lead them, forever fighting by their side.

  She would forgive him anything, Malek realized. No matter how great Morlekai's rise, no matter how terrible their leader’s fall.

  And trained as Malek was in the ruthless guerrilla tactics he had mastered at Highrock, he knew well how sick and savage one sometimes had to be to destroy one's enemies utterly, hoping one day, somehow, that the stains upon one's soul would be worth it for a better kingdom. A kingdom that could hope for an era of safety. Happiness. Prosperity.

  Malek could only imagine that on some far vaster scale Morlekai felt the same way. Else how could the man bear his terrible fall from grace, intentional or no? To the lands of men no less, and not the Hells below.

  46

  Lilith's eyes blazed with humiliated fury at Morlekai's rejection of her, her expression turning to one of scathing contempt. "Very well, fool! Reject my offer. And when it is your body that lays screaming, spiked to pillars of basalt and brimstone, I shall take sweet delight in devouring your heart, in savoring all its arrogance and pride as you gaze at me in eternal horror. For I shall command such abasement from the broken shell of your body, even as I feast upon the eternal torments of your fallen soul!”

  Abruptly, she turned to stare straight at Malek. He gasped, feeling of a moment frozen, joints locked, fighting desperately not to lose himself in her cruel appraisal, eyes of fiery amethyst seeming to pull him down endless loops of eternity. Clawing, it felt like, for his very soul.

  “Malek!” Sharply said. Yet something in his leader’s tone resolved his will to steel. He grimaced and snarled, Lilith’s lips curling up with contemptuous amusement.

  "So. My dear daughter's Hound has come to visit his true mistress at last." She chuckled throatily, of a sudden holding up what looked to be an ancient locket of hair, so old and brittle with age that Malek was surprised it hadn't crumbled to dust, long ago. "Behold! My daughter's hair! She who is of me can never truly be free of me. The bonds of blood and flesh can be broken by no magic, save death itself! By her hair I invoke our connection, Hound of Jezabelle. For your mistress is the daughter of Lilith, the true queen of this realm! I claim ascendancy! Even as Jezabelle is my lesser, I am your greater, and you but my slave, ancient remnant! I command Claimance over all rights and privileges my offspring once held. Yield to me, Hound. For as you are hers and she is mine, you too must fall under my sway!"

  Her voice seemed to resonate through every bone in his body even as the locket in her hand began to smoke and burn, and Malek felt a hideous compulsion to revel in the bloodlust he had held in check for so long. To embrace his true form and slaughter all his foes. To stand tall and fiery, wreathed in dark blood and glory by his mistress's side, for all eternity.

  He couldn’t hold back the terrible smile, and he could smell Alacabar and Lucienda’s sudden fear.

  “By all the gods, boy. Why do you gaze at her like that? You are not her tool. You are our friend! Our brother, bold and true!” Alacabar's voice. Ever forgiving, ever approving, now filled with horrified disappointment. Piercing a suddenly tormented Malek to his core.

  “Hold, Hound. Hold. Remember the face of she who truly loves you!” A warning. A command. Morlekai.

  Jess. His mistress was Jess. Her bemused smile flared brilliant and true in the Hound's tormented mind even as he howled with unspeakable pain, growling at terrible compulsion, biting and tearing at the dark chords with which the vile succubus strove to bind him, ever seeking to tear him free of his beloved mistress.

  Malek blinked. Grimacing. Aware his howl had shaken the very lands he stood upon, gouts of molten metal shooting forth, the ground itself cracking and shaking.

  To give one a name was power. But to claim one's own name was a greater power still, if one had the will to hold. Malek felt that truth resonate through the very core of his soul even as he tore free of Lilith's awful compulsion with fierce, iron-hard resolve.

  "My name is Malek, bitch! My name is my own and my doom shall by of my own forging! No matter who you look like, no matter what you say or do, I shall never serve you!" His massive blade burst in sudden crimson flame as he roared his defiance at the terrible queen floating before them. She who radiated such inhuman power seemed almost to recoil, gazing at him with pure hate.

  Her scream was one of frustrated fury, snarling, and Malek flashed a taunting grin, happy to see the loathsome queen show her true colors. He carefully avoided the implications of other things she had said, focusing instead upon the immediacy of their peril.

  Morlekai’s laughter was one of dark satisfaction.

  “And so you see how old bonds weaken and fray, Lilith, tied to lives long since lived and past, just as other bonds forged of love and loyalty grow ever stronger, among those players of the great game not afraid to embrace the turning of the divine wheel of life and rebirth. Something your cowardly heart will never comprehend!”

  Lilith, gaze filled with icy contempt, spat upon the ground. Sparks crackled and the screams of countless lost souls reverberated through the hellish landscape of twisted rock, molten metal, and sulfurous gas. She began to laugh once more, a hideous cackle that spoke of endless cruelty, spite, and madness. "So be it, Morlekai. Enjoy your toys. Savor them while you can, for it will be such a pleasure to watch your face as I defile each and every one!"

  Her smile made Malek’s stomach curl, her sibilant voice summoning forces dark and terrible, and he felt space itself fold as two luminescent orbs spinning through the ether slowly fell to her hand.

  “Behold, Morlekai! Your lost little soldier, too weak to make the crossing. Safe, in my daughter’s ancient library, no?” Her smile held a psychopath's sick cruelty. “No, dear Morlekai, I’m afraid not. For you see, all of my daughter’s pitiful wards and protections mean nothing! For I am ascendant, and my Claimance supersedes anything and everything she has ever done or could ever do! So what is hers, like her lost little library that once sealed a sacred horn you fought so very, very hard to find, dear Morlekai, is mine in the end.”

  Lilith's terrible mocking laughter washed over them all. “There was only so long she could hide it from me, only so many centuries. It is sweetest irony that it is only in this era that progress has at last been made. For even if my dear Franken, so close to securing pretext to burn my daughter alive in my honor, so close to destroying everyone she has ever loved and turning her precious garden to bitter ashes has failed me, it matters not, for that thrust was but one of many! Your Crown Agents and inquisitors have ever been loyal to their true mistress. Using all their resources, all their skills at ferreting out secrets, at last fulfilling their one true purpose! Stealing right out from under your nose that which you have struggled for all these centuries to find, Morlekai! All too happy to whisper the secrets of the horn upon its discovery, knowing the rewards of success, and the price of pain, should they fail!”

  Morlekai's gaze was one of equal parts horror and loathing, even as Lilith's lips stretched into a hideous, fanged grin, savoring their dismay. Sharp jagged peaks of rock that dotted the landscape trembled with the discordant cacophony as her vile army hooted, howled, and roared, taking pleasure in their mistress's triumph. And Malek understood then why those fell armies had not crossed the chasm between them and attacked at once.

  Lilith had wanted an audience. To savor her triumph as she slowly tore every bastion of hope and solace from her opponent's hands, leaving them a broken shell before consuming them utterly, her victory only then complete.

  At which point she whispered a single word and one of the luminescent orbs floating beside her grew in size, acting as a massive lens, sufficient for Malek to look within and see to his horror that his worst fears were realized.

  A terrified Latif, desperate to escape, banging fruitlessly on the now clo
sed portal within the golden tome by which they had entered that vast and once sacred temple, now trapped and folded within the silver orb spinning and glowing before them.

  Malek could hear the young healer's desperate yells, saw his wide blue eyes gaze frantically about, aware that something was horribly wrong. Malek gasped, terrified for poor Latif even as Lilith's mocking countenance filled him with blackest fury.

  Malek remembered all too well Nadia's desperate gaze, holding her daughter so hard she had begun to squirm. She had known. Somehow, Nadia had known this horrible Delve would be one too many for her husband. She had pled, how she had pled for him to resist. And how they had done everything in their power to entice him.

  Malek clenched his teeth, blinking away bitter tears. Poor, beautiful Latif of the innocent smile and hopeful blue eyes. Malek’s heart lurched as he beheld the terrified young man who but days before had been safe and whole, free of the Delver's doom, gazing with such solemn pride at the snow covered orchards that would one day assure his family’s prosperity, his beautiful wife and daughter by his side. It was for fear of losing those orchards that had compelled him back into the madness once more.

  And the horror of it was, Malek knew that Latif had been in no danger of ruin. He could have given Latif the paltry sum of gold needed to see his orchard through the lean years. He could have done it with the coin he had in his hidden purse.

  But he had not, and his heart quailed in terror as he gazed up into Latif's pleading eyes, the healer somehow able to see him, begging him for help in his final hour.