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Monarch - Pyrrhic IV
🕑 Added 2022-08-02 18:16:07 +0000 UTCI wound my way through graves and crumbling buildings. The sepulcher itself—Infaris’s sacred resting place, a monolithic crypt with an iron gate that had once haunted my dreams, was a crumbled heap of ruins.
There was a sad irony in that.
As the first infernal, Infaris had died thousands of years ago. She was deified, her memory honored with the creation of the sepulcher. It had withstood the test of time, standing as a beacon of history as countless infernals made the pilgrimage to pay their respects, only for Thoth to destroy it in her rage and haste to pursue me.
As I crested the stairs, a small cluster of crow-like birds bearing red markings around their heads startled and took flight, leaving an unidentifiable mess of carrion in their wake, a crooked halo of putrefying gore beneath it.
With a grimace, I began to clean the portico, removing the carrion first, then sacrificing some of my dwindling water supply to dilute the gore. I scraped off what remained with an already dirty rag, and rubbed at the surface until the black stone shimmered as it had the first time I passed by to enter the gate that now laid flat, buried beneath an endless deluge of stone.
Maybe my actions seem indulgent. They might be. But either from exhaustion, or frustration from the cycle—a never-ending loop of unknown origin, that began partway through my childhood and ended in Ragnarök, before inevitably restarting again—most gods had already abandoned us. Infaris was one of the few that remained. That alone made her worthy of reverence and respect.
“Keep an eye on the entrance to the chamber?” I asked, my voice pitched low.
“Happily.” Vogrin detached himself from me, the black cloak billowed around his pale shoulders as he levitated away, quick to put distance between himself and Sepulcher’s ruins.
That tracked. Demons and gods didn’t exactly get along, but Vogrin and Infaris mingled as well as oil and water.
I pulled a golden plate from my satchel and unpacked the Wyvern heart and held it up to my nose, taking a deep breath. The scent of blood, while fainter than before, was still present. There was no sour tinge to it. I placed it on the golden plate, shifting it, so it was perfectly centered.
“Beseeching the gods. Combine that with what your teacher told me about the last time she saw you, I almost get the impression you’re planning to leave.” A monotone voice said from behind me. I turned to see a middle-aged, violet infernal studying me, shading herself from the light beneath the overhang of a tomb.
I stood to face her, my hands loose at my side. “Funny coincidence. Us being here at the same time. Are you hunting me?
“And if I was?”
Unable to maintain the farce any longer, I broke into a grin. “I’d be in serious trouble.”
“True enough,” Nethtari smiled.
I took the stairs two at a time and rushed forward to embrace her. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close. An almost painful nostalgia washed over me as Nethtari tussled my hair. It’d been over a year since our paths last crossed. Despite discarding her armor for Elder’s Robes, Maya’s mother looked much she had the day I met her years ago now. Tall and stoic. When I first arrived in the enclave, injured and disoriented, she’d not only been the only infernal willing to shelter me in her home, but had served as my representative before the council, and convinced them to allow my continued observation of their magic and culture as a ward, with the promise that I would some day hone my talent to their benefit.
The happiness in my chest faded somewhat as I remembered what came after.
In Infernal society, the Sanctum served a dual purpose. It was both a training and proving ground for young infernals, filled to the brim with magic and valuable artifacts they could claim as boons. A cornucopia of priceless treasures that lay just beneath the surface. There was a catch, of course. Due to the excess ambient magic in the Sanctum, young infernals could only remain there until the verge of adulthood. Any longer and their bodies would become dependent on the magic.
Because of the way it functioned, the Sanctum also served as a place of retirement for their elders, the ambient magic extending their lives and allowing them to pass down knowledge and teachings to each generation.
I’d entered for the purpose of both honing my magic finding a teacher, as the magic I needed to restore the dimension gate—a pathway to other infernal lands that had been sundered long ago.
Only, Thoth had been waiting. My mortal enemy. She cut off the entrance to the Sanctum with a warded forcefield, and placed a bounty on my head. With Vogrin’s help, I’d tracked Thoth deep into the Sanctum. When I discovered her true purpose—to stall the corruption by restoring the Prime Leyline that lay deep beneath the Sepulcher, I intended to withdraw.
Fate had other plans. Due to a mistake on the part of my demonic allies, I was drawn into a hopeless battle with Thoth that culminated at the Sanctum’s heart. Even though she was beyond the maximum age, Nethtari and other infernals from the enclave managed to open a secondary entrance and came to our aid. They knew that they could never leave. And they’d come for us anyway.
“Why have you been avoiding me, pink child?” Nethtari asked.
I stepped away from her, unable to look her in the face. “Oh, you know. Lots to do down here. Plenty of loose ends to tie up.”
“So, you are leaving?”
“Not, right away. There are still a few things I want to do. But I’ve learned as much as Veldani can teach me.” I summoned the spark. Violet light danced around my palm, eventually rising above my hand and floating upwards. “And it’s about time I made good on my promise.”
Nethtari’s eyes crinkled. “The third stage. You’ve learned well. No wonder that Veldani is pleased with you.” She paused. “Though she also accused you of rushing and apparently finds you as stubborn as a striped ox.”
“Praise blunted by criticism. Sounds like her.” I forced myself to look at Nethtari. Really look. “Your horns are different.”
She reached up, her fingers tracing the length of horn until they began to taper at the top. “Yes. I’ve given up keeping them straight. Might as well let loose a bit, now that I’m an ‘elder.’”
“I’m—“
“If you apologize for the hundredth time, I really will hunt you.” Nethtari flicked my nose.
I hesitated, afraid to ask. “How are Jorra and Maya?”
Maya was my closest companion, before the dire circumstances at the heart of the Sanctum forced me to fake my death. Jorra had openly wept. But Maya took it the hardest.
“I think…” Nethtari spoke carefully, “You should see them for yourself. It is hard enough to watch my children grieve. To report on them to—forgive me—the architect of that grief would feel like a betrayal. Even if what you did was necessary.”
“I understand. And trust me.” I held her gaze. “Once the dimension gate is open, I intend to pursue the dwarves. The false trail I left with Guemon should distract my father long enough to secure their support. But they should be the first to know I’m alive. It shouldn’t be longer than a month or two for me to finish things up here.”
Nethtari stepped out from beneath the overhang, crossing into the clearing. “As much as I’d prefer things were different, I didn’t come here to extend pleasantries. The security counselor misplayed his hand. It seems you are out of time, Ni’lend.”
I followed her. “Nethtari? What’s wrong?”
“It was going to happen eventually. However it came to pass, Whitefall has discovered that their heir apparent never left the enclave. And that we played a part in deceiving them.”
I sucked in a breath. “If they think I’m dead…”
Nethtari nodded gravely. “Whitefall marches on the enclave. Eighty-thousand strong.”
Elphion.
“Is my father at the front?” I was almost afraid to hear the answer.
“From the reports? King Gil leads them. Clad in gilded armor.”
His conqueror’s regalia. He’s not planning to negotiate.
My mind raced. “How close are they?”
“They passed through the Everwood to hide their number. The first reports came through yesterday, just before they breached the tree-line.”
Damn it all. Too close. It took considerably longer to move an army, but by my estimate, they were less than a day away. There was so much I wanted to say to Nethtari, but there simply wasn’t time. “Then… I have to go.”
I raced back to the obliterated entrance of the Sepulcher and used a spark of demon fire to set the wyvern’s heart alight. This was meant to be a drawn out process. Burning the offering and waiting by the improvised brazier for Infaris to manifest. We hadn’t parted on the best of terms when I sought her guidance months ago, but I’d hoped to clear the air before I left. There simply wasn’t time.
Without pausing, I turned from the sepulcher and grasped the amulet around my neck. “Vogrin, we need to move. Quickly.”
”I shall construct the means. Will the infernal woman be traveling with us?”
“Coming along for the ride, Nethtari?” I jogged back to her. Something in my chest squeezed as she shook her head, looking away with misty eyes.
“It’s best that we part here. My role in this has ended. The Queen’s virtues are extolled by humans and non-humans alike. If Whitefall is indeed your destination, you have a loving mother waiting at home.” She blinked and smiled at me, wiping her eyes. “What will she think of you, I wonder. You’ve grown into an entirely different person compared to the child who came stumbling out of that cell a lifetime ago.”
The thought of seeing my real mother again, my birth mother, was still difficult to wrap my head around. But the fact that she was alive in this timeline did nothing to diminish how important Nethtari and Kilvius were to me. I stopped mid-stride. Suddenly, it was critical that my words reach her. I diverted from my course to take Nethtari’s hand. She squeezed it, pain clear in her eyes.
My voice was barely louder than a whisper. “I was born in Whitefall, Nethtari. But you gave me the only home I ever had. And while you might not be my mother in blood, you are my mother in spirit. There’s no rule that says I can only have one.”
Nethtari chuckled. “I’m reasonably sure there are bigamy laws that state otherwise.”
I shrugged. “Best to overturn them, then. My first act as king.”
She folded my hand into both of hers. “Watch out for my little ones. And please, Cairn. Be safe.”
With all the decorum I could muster, I bowed to Nethtari. “May the frost wane at your waking.” When that didn’t feel like enough, I added. “I will see you again.”
My hand slid from her fingers and I turned and jogged towards the chamber’s entrance. Vogrin had fashioned a golem from dirt and soil that looked suspiciously like a horse with horns.
“Problem?” Vogrin asked.
“Oh, the usual. Father complicating my life again. He’s marching on the enclave, undoubtedly intending to make an example of the “foul creatures” who killed his son.” I placed my foot in the stirrup and kicked a leg over, grunting at the impact. The golem was harder than it looked.
Vogrin paused. “That is a problem. What’s our course of action?”
“Hard to say until we’re in the thick of it. Not enough information. For now?” I drove my heels into the golem’s sides. “We ride.”
It took off with a lurching gait towards the entrance of the chamber, Vogrin floating alongside me.
Vogrin leaned close. “Not to ruin the moment, but you’ve forgotten your hood.”
Instinctively, I reached behind my neck to grab for it. Then stopped.
“I don’t need it anymore.”
