“That is cold comfort if they die, Kerf, and you know it. It isn’t even your real motive. You’re an inveterate meddler.”
“And the world is a better place for it. Do I have ulterior motives? None that I haven’t already revealed. I don’t want to leave this age hero-less. Is that so terrible? Who knows what this next crew will be like? Just because our time here is at an end doesn’t mean our responsibility is as well.”
“Don’t start prattling about responsibility to me, you old scoundrel. I’ll say it again: The Twins were our responsibility. They’re our children after all.”
“I hadn’t thought it possible, but you are even more lovely when you grow wroth, fair Isin. Why did I ever let you go?”
“Kerf—”
“Isin, I’ve felt every pain of every mortal I singled out for greatness, be it physical, mental, emotional or spiritual. I have suffered every ill of Aridhall Flamehand, of Halfa the Wanderer King, of Havak Silversword and a dozen-dozen more both famous and obscure. And now, I add Amra Thetys and Holgren Angrado to the list. I know what I ask of them, and I pay as surely as they do. Look at me. I was not always a hunchbacked, crippled old god. You know that.”
Isin relented a little, touched Kerf’s lined face with one cool, soft hand. “I know, Kerf. I know. And to me, you’re still that brash youth that won my heart when the world was young.”
Kerf grabbed her hand in his own and pressed it to his lips. “Ah my love, perhaps in the next age, we will discover what we might have been together. It is my one regret, you know. Choosing duty over love.”
“You are what you are, Hero Maker. I knew that when I took you to my bed. Now hush. I want to pay attention to what’s happening. And if those lovers lose their lives or worse, you’ll regret it for a dozen ages. Do I make myself clear?”
Chapter Eleven
I tried to keep my eyes everywhere at once as we made our way down the mound of rubble to the hall’s floor. I scanned every shadowed recess, searching for signs of tentacled nightmares. I had half-expected Shemrang herself to be waiting in the great hall. She was too massive to fit anywhere else. She wasn’t there, but that didn’t mean her offspring weren’t. Attack could come from anywhere at any time.
I was not afraid—that emotion seemed to have been burned out of me. My only concern was for survival—mine and Holgren’s. Instead of fear, a cold, muted anger suffused me. It had much to do with the pigheaded god and his twelve silent soldiers descending ahead of me, the murderous, mad goddess they tracked, and the thing made out of nightmare and shadows that we would have to face very soon now. And the shadow’s creatures. Mustn’t forget Shemrang and her get.
It was a bleak feeling that made me colder and harder than I had ever been before I discovered what I felt for Holgren. Seeing him slung over one of the soldier’s shoulders like a lump of meat, refused healing by the one he’d saved from being torn to shreds—I discovered what it truly meant to have a hard heart. Tha-Agoth might be our only hope of defeating the Shadow King, but if I ever had the chance to do him ill, I would seize it. I promised myself I would leave him twisting in the wind.
When we had all descended to the stone floor of the hall, Tha-Agoth sniffed the air like an animal.
She was here just moments ago. Which way though? Which way has she fled?
“She could be anywhere,” I told him. “This place is a labyrinth. It could take days to find her. While you’re searching, she could slip by you and be taken by the Shadow King. Destroy him now, Tha-Agoth. It’s the only sure way.”
He didn’t even glance in my direction. This way, I think. Yes. He strode off toward the stairs where Holgren had made the blood dolls, and his men followed.
So did I, cursing them all silently and keeping an eye out for spider-limbed, tentacled monsters.
Tha-Agoth may not have needed light to make his way through pitch-black stone corridors, but I certainly did. Since his men did as well, he called into being a golden glow that suffused his body and drove the darkness back. The light also made him a target. I wished fervently that when we were attacked, it was him the beasts would go after and not the soldiers. Holgren would most likely suffer should they be attacked.
Tha-Agoth would pause periodically to sniff the air or bend down and touch the stones of the floor with thick fingers. Then, he would resume his hunt.
In this fashion, we made our way through dusty corridors for what felt like hours. I began to suspect Athagos was leading us around in circles on purpose. The thought came to me that she planned to keep us from reaching Shadowfall for as long as possible—probably until nightfall, when the Shadow King would be most powerful.
I turned it around in my head. It felt right even if I couldn’t understand why she’d do it.
Eventually we were headed toward what I realized was the old Sorcerer King’s sanctum. Was Athagos leading us there on purpose? Did she have some reason to go there, or was it chance or her madness? I had no answers, nor could I see what difference it really made.
We descended the stairs that led to the sanctum. Tha-Agoth paused there at the base of the stairs in front of the door to the lair.
I sense something, he said, head cocked to one side. Some power.
I didn’t enlighten him. I owed him nothing. Perhaps the husk that had been the Sorcerer King had a surprise left for his age-old enemy. Or Athagos had something in store for her brother. In any case, I wanted no part of it. I had a feeling that unpleasant things were about to happen in that unpleasant place.
When the Flame started whispering in my mind, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I’d forgotten all about him.
Do not enter the sanctum, the Flame’s voice hissed in my head. Neither let the mage enter if you value his soul.
“We’ll just wait out here if you don’t mind,” I said to Tha-Agoth.
Do as you will. It matters little to me. I tapped the soldier who was carrying Holgren on the shoulder and said, “Let him down.”
He helped me lower Holgren to the floor. I checked Holgren’s heartbeat. It was thready. Huge welts on his neck and face oozed pus where the monster’s tentacles must have touched his flesh. He looked as close to death as he could be without actually being dead. If I’d had any impulse to warn Tha-Agoth of the danger that lay ahead, Holgren’s condition squashed it.
The god pushed open the door to the sanctum. Nothing happened. He stepped inside. His men followed him in. Still, nothing happened. I could see a slice of the room through the open door—a bit of wall, the torso of one contorted corpse, the pale, blue light of a brazier and obscene shadows dancing on the wall. Then, those ghostly, gibbering voices started shrieking, and the door slammed shut with a thunderous clap.
Even with that thick door closed, I could hear the sounds of carnage and millennium-old hate being vented.
The ghost-khordun feeds, whispered the Flame. Their hunger is a thousand years old and insatiable.
“Why didn’t they eat me before? And where the hells have you been?” I asked.
You are my chosen. They can sense you but cannot harm you. And I have been here, as always.
The hallway shuddered, and I felt magic’s chill hand on the back of my neck. Blood began to seep through the crack underneath the door. Battle raged on for perhaps three or four minutes, then a perfect silence descended.
As I was about to get up and put an ear to the door, it exploded outward, torn to splinters. Tha-Agoth strode out of the hall and into the corridor, his face a bloody mask, his dragonfly armor ripped to shreds. He held the stunted husk of the Sorcerer King up above him by the neck.
YOU DARE? YOU ARE NOTHING! Tha-Agoth slammed the king’s body against a wall. Bones splintered. The husk’s tongue lolled out of his mouth, and his withered face was purple.
Where is she, worm? said Tha-Agoth, punctuating each word by beating his opponent’s head into the wall. Where is Athagos? Where? Where?
“He can’t answer you if he can’t speak,
” I pointed out.
Tha-Agoth threw the wreckage that had been the Sorcerer King to the floor. There it gagged and coughed but did not otherwise move.
Answer me, or I’ll rend your desiccated flesh from your bones.
It took me a moment to realize the husk was laughing.
“You can no more destroy me now than I can destroy you, godling. I am beyond death. As I can affect nothing, so too can nothing affect me.”
That’s when Tha-Agoth started ripping his limbs from his body. Tha-Agoth was definitely affecting him, in my opinion. It wasn’t a pretty sight.
When the husk was nothing but head and torso, Tha-Agoth leaned down and spat into his face.
I will ask you once more. Where is my sister?
“Somewhere in the labyrinth,” he rasped, “and soon under the sway of the Shadow King. More I cannot say.”
Then your usefulness is at an end. And Tha-Agoth put his fist through the husk’s wizened face and tore his head from his body. I shuddered. If what he’d told me was true, even in that state, the old bastard wasn’t dead. I wondered briefly what it might be like to live through such a thing. My mind couldn’t encompass it.
Tha-Agoth stood and shook bloody gobbets of flesh and brain from his hand. I got up as well and stood in front of him. Perhaps not the best time to confront him, but time was in short supply. Night was coming.
“Listen to me now. Abandon this search. You know where she’s going, where she has to go. If we waste time searching for her here, it may well be too late. Please listen to reason.”
He shook his head. She is here. I sense her.
“She could be anywhere! Do you really think you were following her trail when you entered that room? It was a trap!”
No. She was here. That was no illusion.
“Then she led you here on purpose, hoping to destroy you or at least slow your pursuit. Have you forgotten how she tricked you a thousand years ago?”
Some of his certainty seemed to crumble.
She was swayed by that one, he said, indicating the remains of the Sorcerer King.
“Why she did it doesn’t matter, only what she did and will do. For whatever reason, she doesn’t want you to catch her. If you waste time down here, you will lose her to the Shadow King forever, and the entire world will be enslaved. Think beyond the moment, for Kerf’s sweet sake! We know where she has to go. Why not wait for her there?”
He relented. I didn’t think he would. He was as mad in his own way as his sister: obsessed with her to the point of unreason.
Take me to this Shadow King.
#
Tha-Agoth would not help me carry Holgren, the bastard, so it was slow going.
Hurry, mortal. Time flies.
I had Holgren slung across my back. Every tottering step threatened to be my last. “You won’t heal him, and you won't help me carry him, you godly sack of dung, so you can take your ‘flying time’ and choke on it.” We were making our slow way down the passage that led to the stairs and the lake. I had no idea of the time. I hoped it was still daylight.
He is a burden. Leave him.
“He’s only a burden because you refuse to help. He’s also the only reason I’m helping you at all. You’d better remember that.”
I do not need your help.
I stopped and lowered Holgren to the ground. “Fine,” I said, pulling out my knife. “I’ll just end his life here so he doesn’t become a mindless slave to the Shadow King. Then, I’ll get along home and leave you to find Shadowfall on your own. Maybe you’ll find it before your sister does. Maybe you’ll be able to keep the Shadow King from snaring her. I don’t really care any more, you selfish, obsessed, immortal puddle of vomit. Godhood was wasted on you, you miserable tick.”
I thought he was going to kill me. The rage on his face was plain. Maybe no one had ever spoken to him in such fashion. I stood my ground, waiting for his divine fist to punch a hole in my very mortal face. He trembled with anger, and his hands balled at his sides.
“Do it if you’re going to,” I said quietly. “But make sure you kill Holgren as well. He would not want to survive as a pawn of evil.”
I cannot kill him nor heal him, just as I cannot rifle through your mind. I swore I would not. My word is final. I cannot go against it.
“You’ve got a twisted sense of honor then. Are you going to kill me or not?”
No.
He said it as though it caused him physical pain to do so. I should be so lucky.
“Then help me carry him if you want to get to Shadowfall before Athagos.” He stood there for a little while longer, eyes shining. Then, he scooped Holgren up in his arms, like a parent would a sleeping child. I sheathed my knife with trembling hand and set out once again for the stairs and the ledge and the lake. Beyond that, I didn’t contemplate. One thing at a time.
We made the ledge above the lake. It had snowed but only a little. A light powder dusted the ledge. The lake wasn’t frozen, not even at the edges. The sun was bleeding its life away in great, red streaks behind and above us. Darkness was creeping in ahead. We had wasted the day down below and would face the Shadow King in all his power.
Where to now, Amra? Tha-Agoth asked. Where will Athagos go?
I pointed out to the other end of the lake, which was lost in gloom and a pale, acrid smelling fog. “There,” I said. “The far shore, or rather a short distance beyond. You should be able to see Shadowfall construct itself any moment now. Kerf knows it’s big enough to be seen from here.”
Tha-Agoth lay Holgren gently down and started for the stairs. I cannot be encumbered now, he said.
I heaved Holgren onto my back and staggered after Tha-Agoth. In my heart, I held little hope for Holgren or myself, but I would see it through to the end. There was nothing else to be done.
Tha-Agoth made his way to the stone quay where we’d first met Ruiqi and stood there, staring out at the approaching gloom. In the distance, green planes of light had sprung into being. Shadowfall was assembling itself. The Shadow King had woken. Tha-Agoth stood looking out at it. He seemed bemused by the sight.
There lairs my enemy, he said. But there was another enemy much closer.
The fog-shrouded surface of the lake exploded up and outward. Shemrang, mother of monsters, raised her black, steaming bulk out of the murky waters of the lake, snared Tha-Agoth with tentacles made of night, and dragged him down under the water. It was over in a heartbeat.
I just stood there for a moment, stunned and soaked, staring at the roiling water. Then I laid Holgren down on the slick stones of the quay, drew my knife and the length of rod that had pinned a god for an age from my belt, and jumped in.
I don’t know how to swim, so really, I don’t know what I was thinking. I suppose I wasn’t thinking, in fact. All I knew was Tha-Agoth was the key to defeating the Shadow King and freeing Holgren and to saving the world. And Shemrang had him. She might not be able to kill him, but he was of no use to me torn into a thousand little pieces, his severed head giving birth to monsters. So I went in that murky water to get him back.
That lake was cold, choked with weeds, and black as pitch now that night had come. I struggled toward where I thought Shemrang must be, kicking and sinking. I wasn’t going to make it. My lungs began to burn with the need for air almost immediately, but I couldn’t even tell which way was up after a few seconds. I could barely see my own hand in front of my face. I thought I had used up all my fear over the past months. I was wrong. It was an awful, terrifying experience.
I didn’t have to find Shemrang. She found me. One giant, questing tentacle latched onto my thigh and dragged me through the water toward her. I hacked at it with my knife. It did not seem to affect her in the least. She didn’t loosen her grip. Quite the contrary. The tentacle snaked around my chest and squeezed, forcing air out of my tortured lungs. Everywhere exposed flesh met tentacle, it burned.
Ahead of me, a burst of golden light shot through
the gloom. I could only assume it was Tha-Agoth. It didn’t rival Holgren’s magelight. I don’t think it actually harmed Shemrang all that much. She still had me firmly in her grip. It did allow me to see the battle that raged between the two as I approached. Tha-Agoth was being constricted in much the same way I was. He was having much better success at causing Shemrang discomfort. Much as she had torn him asunder, he was shredding tentacle after tentacle with his bare hands. A desperate hope flared in me that we might survive. That hope died as suddenly as it was born when Shemrang maneuvered Tha-Agoth within range of her gaping, serrated maw.
She snapped his head off with one bite.
The golden glow slowly faded from around his decapitated corpse, now set free to float down to the bottom of the lake with a dark cloud of blood to mark its passage. It was my turn next.
I suppose she didn’t consider me much of a threat after Tha-Agoth. I had no doubts she was still harboring a wee bit of resentment over the unflattering things I’d said about her and her children. She wanted to torment me before she finished me off. She rose up from the lake, dangling me in front of her long, narrow face. I gasped a tiny bit of blessed fresh air, as much as my constricted lungs would allow. The tip of her leathery tongue lapped at my face.
Not as savory as a god, gutter thief, but you will do. And the mage as well.
I’d have snapped off a witty retort, but I could barely breathe. Besides, none sprang to mind. My arms were free of her embrace, so I let my knife speak for me.
I nearly severed the last inch or so of her tongue.
Apparently, it was a fairly sensitive organ. Her shriek was quite loud. Then, I was rushing toward her mouth head-first. Dropping the knife, I got a two-handed grip on the rod and prayed.
My timing wasn’t perfect nor my aim. I’d intended to wedge the bar between her jaws, thus staving off my imminent beheading. Instead, the jagged tip of the rod caught her about a foot or so below her eyes. It parted her strange, sleek flesh and continued on into the interior of her head as if she were composed of warm butter. And I thought she’d screamed when I nicked her tongue.
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