Mortal gods, p.30
Mortal Gods, page 30
“I thought he knew.” Kyler said, sinking back against the desk. Vaseyl crossed the room towards the window, picked up a dusty bottle of brown liquid and poured two glasses. He handed one to Kyler and swallowed his own in one gulp, before moving back to the window and pouring another. Kyler sniffed at it, gathering in spice – fire whiskey.
“What now?” Kyler asked.
“Now, I pick a team of poor bastards to go die.” He said, gulping another glass, then pouring a third.
“Who’s on the list?” Kyler said, but it was met with a sharp thud of the bottle down on the wooden table.
“It doesn’t matter. If those corridors are open, we’re already dead.” Vaseyl said, pulling back his wrath.
“Was it as great a danger as we were told?”
“It’s worse, Kyler. Those of us who made it back watered down the stories and told half-truths. Virsa knew. Mirav knew. There is a great evil in those corridors, and if the Black King means to unleash it, there is not an axe in this mountain that can stand against it.” He poured himself a fourth glass of the burning liquid and looked at it closely.
“We my friend, need a fuckin’ miracle.” He raised his glass to Kyler’s and gently knocked them together. “To the end of the world.”
Chapter 14
The Unwelcome Guests
Adrian
The quietness ran through Adrian as he gazed around blindly at a serene white sheet, veiled over his eyes. The calm was unexpected, but it was welcomed. Behind it, there was something that the young boy couldn’t quite grasp, a glaring nag in the back of his mind like he had forgotten before he had ever known. He pushed himself and forced a crack. Voices, but none he had ever heard before now. He tried harder, but the dense fog that lingered clogged any remits of continuous thoughts.
“Bring forth the traitors!” A commanding voice boomed, echoing high.
Adrian felt his body, for the first time and instinctively dropped low to a knee. The blinding white subsided slowly. The shapes were menacing and threatening at first; the unknown playing with his mind. But as it dimmed, Adrian took stock. He stood in a massive circular chamber that screamed high. Marble benches framed the walls, filled with judgemental, angry glares. Adrian’s heart skipped when he thought they were for him, but he quickly realised, they barely acknowledged him.
Three mighty figures sat tall on thrones six feet above the ground, the middle of the three even higher still. They were draped in pure white robes, each of them exuding their importance. On the floor before them, there were three prisoners, shackled and on their knees. Adrian thought of shifting to see the prisoners better, but he was frozen to the spot, feeling the hateful glare cast down from the benches. The prisoners looked fatigued and battle weary, like the remnants of a war lingered over them.
“In the presence of the peers of this realm, we sit in judgement of our former brethren. Hellanious, Cratos, Gaius. You are charged with the crimes of murder, sedition and treason against the High Heavens. Your former glories will be struck from record and your existence purged from history. Before sentencing is carried out, are there words of reconciliation you wish to share?” The man in the middle throne declared. He was the oldest of the three, with a thick sheen of white hair and a tidy white beard, but there was something in his eyes, something sad.
“If the sentence is not death, you will feel my wrath once more!
“Silence, Gaius!”
Adrian couldn’t decide who needed the more immediate attention; The Black King or the voice that had identified him as such. He could see only the back of each of the prisoners. It made him desire to burst forward and look upon face of the God who was to kill him, but the menacing faces from the rafters stayed his curiosity. Instead, he glared at the man in the throne to the right. He was young and handsome with thick blond hair which draped just above his shoulders. Although he wore the ceremonial robes that largely covered his frame, it was easy to decipher the mass of muscle and power that lingered beneath it.
Tristan… Adrian looked to the figure in the middle and then the woman who flaked his left. That must mean this is The Father of Fathers and Analesca.
Gaius flashed a furious glare at Tristan and spat, “Before my end, I will see you to yours!”
“Then the judgement be passed.” Analesca interrupted.
She was a beauty like nothing Adrian had ever laid eyes upon, not even the Baroness. She too had long auburn hair that seemed to flow forever and high cheek bones that framed her hazel eyes.
“Very well.” Loric said. “Hellanious, we find you guilty of treason, sedition and murder. You are sentenced to eternity as a prisoner of The Void.” Loric said with authority. The woman glared at him resolutely, but Adrian couldn’t get a good look at her.
“Cratos, we find you guilty of treason, sedition and murder. You are sentenced to eternity as a prisoner of The Void.”
Cratos was similar in his reaction.
“Gaius, we find you guilty of treason, sedition and murder.”Loric paused for a second, and looked to Tristan beside him. “You are sentenced to eternity as a prisoner of The Void.”
Tristan shot to his feet, and the mouths kept moving but the sound was fading, like it was dragged away. Adrian strained closer, but seen only the outrage on Tristan’s face. He was furious, screaming at the top of his lungs, but Adrian could hear none of it.
A scream of pain ripped through his body and he shielded his eyes, trying to spare them the dizzying rush that sped over him. He collapsed to the floor, shuddering with every bone in his body, begging for the noise to end.
In an instant it did. But Adrian couldn’t embrace the quiet as he would have hoped; his body like a broken bag of bones.
The sounds of muffled voices tickled the air, strained and bickering in argument. Adrian struggled with the effort needed to open his eyes, the fear of that blinding white light still lingered.
“We want to see him!” Arianna snapped, just on the other side of a small wooden door. “It’s been over a week!”
“He needs his rest.” Wyland replied defiantly.
Adrian tried to shuffle in the bed but the pain was enormous. The whole left side of his body burned furiously, which put any thought of further movement out to pasture. Adrian groaned in pain as he became more alert. Wyland burst through the door, flanked by Arianna and Avari, all three rushing to the bedside. The day light flooded in at their backs in a blinding velocity and for a moment, all Adrian could do little but wish those metal plates over his eye lids were real.
The light expelled the darkness as easily as water expels a flame, but the sight it brought with it was not a welcome one. It wasn't a room in the traditional sense that Adrian was used to, like back at the farm house. No, this was a structure of feeble construction, where the foundations were set in timer and the roof bundled straw.
“You’re awake!” Arianna exclaimed, but Adrian could tell by the look on her face, he looked as bad as he felt.
“Do not try speak, your jaw is not fully healed yet.” Wyland said raising a gentle hand to Adrian’s mouth.
At the behest of the old man he stayed his tongue, but in truth his words made him more aware of the pain in his jaw that was previously masked by the pain just about everywhere else.
“You had us worried!” Arianna snapped playfully, trying hard to force a smile but her eyes betrayed the quiver in her lip. She placed a soothing hand to his and he could have sworn the pain floundered, but only a little.
“You should be dead, Adrian. Were it not for your body still partly engulfed in stone, the trolls club would have killed you, let alone the fall.” Wyland said sternly.
Adrian stared into Arianna's eyes deeply for a moment, willing her to understand, and then beckoned to his hand which made a swishing movement.
“Avari, fetch some parchment and a quill.” Arianna said quickly.
The relief washed over him, and he rested his head back onto the pillow of meagre means. Soon after, Avari returned with the quill and paper and placed them on the small table next to the bed. Adrian lifted the quill, every contraction of muscle suggesting an explosion within.
“WHERE R WE?” He scribbled.
“Well that’s the thing… When you fell, we couldn’t find you, Even Pauper couldn’t sniff you out you had fallen so far. The Khamari found you. Wanchii.” She looked to Wyland as confirmation to go on. When he nodded, she continued. “The tracks we found belonged to their kin, they were looking for us… to help. We’re in the Wanchii settlement.” Arianna finished.
Khamari had little use of the indoors and preferred sleeping under the stairs, but it wasn’t uncommon for them to build medical rooms for the sick. In this case, and most others, poorly.
“EVERYBODY OK?”
“Yes!” She beamed brightly, “Thanks to you!”
“PAUPER?”
“Well…” Arianna hesitated before looking to Wyland for help.
“Pauper is not Wanchii, she is not welcome here. But don’t worry, she is camped just outside the settlement walls.” Wyland said broadly.
Adrian paused for a second and thought of his next question.
“HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN HERE?”
“Just over a week now, but don’t worry about that, we’ve been welcomed to stay as long as you need.” Arianna said, stroking his hand as if to soothe his conscious.
“Elemento’s have an accelerated rate of healing. Tomorrow your jaw should heal and the day after should see you out of this bed.” Wyland said confidently. “Now, question time is over, you need to rest. Let’s go.”
He never needed to raise his voice to feel the weight of his orders, the others just knew.
“We’ll be back tomorrow.” Arianna promised.
“Get better.” Avari said as he opened the door.
“Rest up Adrian, we set off in two days.” Wyland said sternly before clinking the door shut.
The total darkness of the room left him nothing more than the sounds of his own breathing and a whirlwind of thoughts to crash through his mind unchecked. They lingered in the corners of his consciousness as though they had crept up from under the bed, or slithered in through the cracks in the floorboards. The small rays of daylight that had seeped in through the door frame and the small window dissipated. Even though the darkness in the room was absolute, Adrian was at ease with it. The stubborn and maniacal thoughts dulled to quiet reflection until the young boy’s guard was down. The calm was scythed through by a blinding blast of light that burned his eyes, even though he held them tightly closed. He thrashed in the bed, hurting everything. He tried to force out a scream, but before it sang like a battle cry from his throat, the pain stopped. He opened his eyes, his heart sank. An unrivalled fear bubbled straight up to his throat; he was back upon that wretched mountain top. He saw the biting cold and howling wind whip the snow manically, but strangely, he felt warm. He looked around, fearing he would be lost to the mountain forever. Wearing just a laced shirt and britches that should have seen the cold claim him in minutes, Adrian followed his instinct. Even the air refused to frost over in his breath. Just beyond the sheet of white that threatened to render the eye useless, Adrian could see the outline of four men, all draped head to toe in dark robes that stood out in the snow. He approached tentatively, with half a mind on how he was completely ignored when he was last swallowed by a white light, but even then, he thought it was a dream.
“You have done your brothers proud, Ivan.” Adrian stopped in his tracks as the hooded figure spoke; he knew the voice.
Wyland turned an inch, but enough for Adrian to glimpse around the hood that shrouded his face. He was considerably younger than the man Adrian had come to know. The lines of time were absent their place on his face, his hair was a dark brown weave that dangled down around his shoulder and he stood a little taller, less crooked on his feet.
Ivan never responded, but Adrian could see the marks on his face where his tears had succumbed to the bitter cold air. He stalked closer till he met shoulders with Wyland, and gazed upon the sight that stirred so much anguish within Ivan. Three mounds of cloth smothered by the snow. Wyland placed a consoling hand on the shoulder of the weeping man.
“Would they be alive if I hadn’t run?” Ivan asked sadly.
“Had you not run, there would be a forth grave and the Baroness would have escaped judgement. What your brothers faced was not of this realm, but never the less, they provided the edge the Order needed to snare this monster.” Wyland paused for a moment, waiting for Ivan’s sobs to simmer. “Live your life for your brothers, proudly and without hesitation.” Wyland replied.
“Do you know what gets me?” Ivan said regaining measure of control over the tears.
“What?” Wyland asked.
“My brothers, your Order. All these great warriors died and I’m still here. What kind of cruel game do the Gods play?”
“Maester Tarquinnious, the High Maester recalls us.” A hooded figure said.
“Very well, Dante.” Wyland replied to the young man. “A life is not measure by how great a warrior we are.” Wyland offered to Ivan, but Adrian drifted from the conversation with fright. For the shortest of moments, he swore the hooded man Wyland had addressed, stared at him deeply with startling eyes; one green and one blue.
“There is more.” Ivan said stopping Wyland from turning away. “One more word… alone” He said quietly, looking back towards the young man, Dante who stood in wait.
“See to it the others are ready for departure.” Wyland said waving a hand at Dante.
“But Maester…”
“Now, Dante.” Wyland said sternly.
Adrian slightly chuckled as he himself had heard the same rough tone from Wyland. Dante nodded and marched off down the trail that was considerably more groomed than when Adrian travelled it. The young boy moved a little closer to better hear. Ivan watched like a hawk, the departure of Dante and turned back to Wyland with a worried look etched across his face.
“There is more than what I told the Order…”
“Go on.” Wyland said quietly.
“It's...” He stammered and the moisture in his eyes grew again before bundling down his cheeks in a heavy flow. “She did something to me.” He whispered.
Adrian edged closer and closer bewildered at why he struggled so badly to hear Ivan’s words. The blinding white light was screaming at him in an instant, bashing his senses but still he edged closer. With a resounding thud he was back in the shabby room.
Not again! Adrian murmured.
He shot upright in the bed like an arrow loosed from a bow. Regret washed over him as he winced deeply and let a hiss of pain escape his lips. He strained his eyes but the light that meandered in through the window was feeble in its attempts to flood the room. At the closed door, there was a huge shape of something sat upon a small chair, gawking at him.
“Who are you?!” He demanded.
“Griffen, Alpha of Wanchii.” The voice said simply.
The name rang familiar with Adrian from the many lessons in the history and layout of the lands he endured with Pauper. The massive tower of rough fur stood from a small chair and walked directly into the light. The Khamari was a sight to behold, easily seven feet tall with solid muscle under his thick brown coat of fur. He had the scars of battle that crept through his hairy body and the same scars behind his eyes.
“Where are my friends?”
“They eat. We talk.” Griffen replied steadily.
“Talk… about what?” Adrian said feeling a nervous tension creep into the room.
“Griffen knows Heir seeks help to defeat Black King. Wanchii help.” Griffen said solidly.
The Khamari Alpha spoke like a true one of his kind. They never labouring to say more than he needed, barely using nouns or verbs to prop up their sentences.
“Why would you risk the lives of your tribe?” Adrian asked.
“Thaurel under Black King rule would see end to life. Khamari do not die without fight.”
“You could run?” Adrian said quietly. He didn’t know if he meant to say it aloud, but when it came out, Adrian wanted it back immediately. He knew from his life with Pauper, that the mere thought of a cowardly Khamari was a folly best left unsaid.
“Khamari no run. Khamari will die with fire in heart, not chain around neck.”
“One tribe won't be enough. We need the others.”
“Yes. A feat you need see to.”
“Won’t all Khamari see it the way you do? Existing on the run isn’t living.” Adrian replied.
“A question to ask the other tribes.” Griffen replied.
“Why is Pauper outside the settlement?” Adrian asked harshly, as the information of his keepers banishment flashed back into his mind.
“Pauper is Catala. Better for all if not in settlement.” He answered shortly. “Can Adrian walk?”
“I think so” Adrian replied and slowly wriggled his legs free of the sheets. The muscles winged and fretted as he moved, but none warned him from doing so. The surface below was the warning. It scratched at his bare feet as though to discourage him from steps to early. Griffen picked Adrian’s robes from the bottom of the bed and draped them around the young boy’s shoulders. He placed a giant paw around his arm to better steady him. All Adrian’s muscles from his legs through to his hips wobbled like a support beam wilting under the pressures of the structure. He could feel every little contraction, every stab of pain, every fire in his nerves. The pain in his ribs told him not to look down, but he couldn’t stop himself. The swelling and bruising was severe, like it had been after he met Topher's blade, and there was angry blotches of purple that intertwined with the brown and yellow.
“Where we going?” He asked, concentrating on working the cobwebs from his stiff joints.
“Healer, then food.” Griffen replied.
Adrian felt every step but he wasn’t going to argue with the growling hunger in his stomach. They stepped outside into a daylight that Adrian had long since forgotten existed, just teasing a blindness into his eyes. The Khamari settlement was vast. There was maybe twenty or thirty of the shanty cottages, similar to that which Adrian emerged from, each of them a place of healing and recovery. The Khamari lived, loved and hunted under the stars, but even they knew structures had purpose. In their early years of freedom, the Khamari quickly realised that wounds would not mend if the patient is left to lay in the dirt. Adrian’s eyes adjusted to being granted a reprieve from the dark, and he spied a curious structure in the near distance, towering over the small cottages.
