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118. Sanctum XLIII (First Draft)
🕑 Added 2021-12-31 23:40:39 +0000 UTCBefore
“So, you didn’t like it then.” Thaddeus leaned against the bar three seats down from me, seeming entirely unsurprised.
“No. They simpered.”
I didn’t often keep company with him. In all honesty, I disliked him before there was even reason to. He was too smarmy, too slick. That wasn’t uncommon, amongst nobles, especially those closest to the crown. What made Thaddeus stand out was how he was entirely without ego. He seldom bragged of his accomplishments, or made snide remarks belittling others. He simply had an air of superior precience about his manner that made him frustratingly poor company.
I hadn’t even known he was there, until my friends—mostly acquaintances or social climbers or both—filtered out to fawn over the arrival of some foreign dignitary, leaving only Thaddeus and I seated at the bar. And after the events that had taken Lillian from me, the only thing that kept me in my seat was the grim realization that I didn’t trust myself to stand.
“For a prince, I daresay you have a strange aversion to deference.” Thaddeus gave a quick shake of his head to the barkeep when the burly man circled past. Despite the barkeep’s burly appearance, he did not bristle at the dismissal, returning to his previous routine of pretending the rotund spymaster was not there.
I found it curious. For a person so slimy, ordinary, and insidiously disquieting, it was strange how easily Thaddeus could pass through any place seen or unseen.
“I am a prince, not a god. And when I say they simpered, I’m not exaggerating. Actually, that might be an understatement. They were almost predatory. It’s a miracle I escaped that place with my soul intact.”
“An increasing topic of concern as of late.” Thaddeus chuckled to himself, as if at some private joke. “But some would argue that there’s not much difference, between a prince and a god.”
I smiled bitterly into my drink, and took a long pull. “They are fools.”
“Undoubtedly. But you are set apart from them. That is what it means to be a son of House Gil.”
With an explosion of sudden anger, I threw the mug, and it smashed into the wall behind him. Thaddeus didn’t budge, didn’t blink.
“I sense that it’s not me you’re upset with.”
“It’s this stupid pageantry.” My voice raised belligerently. “Barkeep, how did you come to work here? Were you born into it?”
The barkeep blinked and looked between us, then appeared to measure the distance to the nearest exit. “No milord. The previous owner was sellin’ at a discount, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“He means,” Thaddeus said dryly, “That he made a not insignificant purse as a fighter in the Topside underground circuit, and caught the owner in the midst of something—shall we say, compromising—with someone of a noble house.”
The barkeep stopped in the middle of his polish, his face as white as a sheet.
“Don’t be an asshole, Thaddeus,” I growled, “I like this tavern.”
Thaddeus rolled his eyes and turned and spoke to the man directly. “He also a frequent peruser of The Velvet Candelabra—“
The barkeep dropped his towel.
“And will find his, frankly, alarmingly habitual visitations credited for this week, so long as he keeps his mouth shut about anything he might have overheard today.”
As if reanimated by magic, the barkeep bent to retrieve his towel, refilled Thaddeus’s mug unbidden, and retreated to the other room.
My mind wheeled in a drunken stupor. I whispered to Thaddeus. “Really? Velvet Candelabra? Isn’t that where—“
Thaddeus held up a hand. “Whatever the second part of that question is, the answer is yes.”
I put a hand on my head, absorbing that. “What were we talking about?”
“Before or after you uncovered Lorsen’s nightly activities?”
“Before.”
“Roles. Or at least, I think that was where you were going.”
My mind snapped back into focus. “Right. Right. My point was, regardless of methodology, the barkeep wasn’t handed this tavern. He earned it. Hells, you worked to get to where you are. You have no noble house. No one knew who you were until my father appointed you spymaster.”
“It took some doing,” Thaddeus said, in the same tone of nostalgic amusement.
“And then there’s me. Crown prince. Leader of the realm.” I held up my mug in a slow, sarcastic arc. “Appointed to my position because I was born.”
“You’ve known this all your life.”
“We’re supposed to be better.” My lip curled. “More. Elite warriors, honorable, chosen by the blood of the gods.”
“Ah. This is about Stiltheia.”
My mouth twitched, as I recalled the event. Yet another skirmish my father had dragged me along for, despite his clear displeasure with me. A ragtag collection of dark elves were attacking remote villages. They had built up decent defenses around a nearby fort with excellent sight-lines— always a nightmare when there were elves involved—but King Gil had settled for the tried and true tactic of cutting off supply lines and simply waiting them out. The woman who came out to negotiate was all skin and bones, her muscle wasted away to almost nothing. And of course, as he had so many times before, my father went back on his word the moment the advantage was his.
“Honor is a fiction. The only thing that separates a noble from the garden-variety topside bandit is that the bandit is at least honest in his intentions.”
Thaddeus fiddled with the signet ring on his finger. “You know, this line of thought isn’t exactly unique. I’d wager a minor fortune that similar conversations are happening right now, in a dozen taverns not unlike this one. All that makes this conversation different from the others are the individuals partaking in it.”
“You’re calling me trite.”
“You are, but that is not my point. Amongst the nobles, you have a unique gift, my lord.”
“And what is that, spymaster?”
“Self-awareness.” Thaddeus popped the ring off his finger and tossed it to me. I caught it, fumbling a few times before it finally settled, trapped in my left hand. The buzz of alcohol cleared somewhat as I studied the ring. It was a dark silver, surprisingly weighty, and somewhat crudely engraved with the outline of a sun.
“What kind of metal is this?” I wondered.
“Wraithbond, a little known composite found only in the depths of what your people call the dark continent.”
“You’ve been there?” I was shocked.
“Been there? No, dear prince. I was born there.”
I almost didn’t believe him, if not for how outlandish it sounded. “You’ve climbed quite high for a foreigner.”
“I have, but that is not my point. Life there was not easy. There were countless threats, constant death. Men—or beings that approximated men—fought and warred and died over honor. But they didn’t call it honor, there. They called it pride.”
“And bloodlines?”
“The only blood they cared for was how much they could spill.”
“So you’re agreeing with me,” I said.
“That honor is a fiction?” Thaddeus raised an eyebrow. “No. This is something the king understands well. The foundation of a civilized society is establishing ideals to aspire towards. Thus, honor is a construct. A tool to tame wild men.”
“So again because we were born noble, we exist outside the societal norm. My father can simply make promises and overturn them, slaughtering captives whenever he chooses.”
“I will deny having said what I am about to say until the end of time,” Thaddeus spoke slowly. “But King Gil is not the example you should be drawing from in your sophistry. There are times when a leader should lie. But ever since King Gil broke his blood oath to the elven queen, marrying your mother instead, his reputation for oath-breaking never corrected. A man’s word is important, and he broke his, over and over, and now, it means practically nothing.”
“It just gives him the excuse to turn to war.”
“That is perhaps true. But you should be looking to the opposite.”
“The opposite of my father.”
“Those supposedly civilized, honorable men you hold in such high regard. The late King Sigfast for one.”
Hearing criticism of my grandfather immediately put me on the defensive. “He was a good king. He often warred, yes, but he also fought slavers. Defended those who couldn’t defend themselves.”
“Of course, the queen told you all of that. The good parts.” Thaddeus inclined his head in acknowledgement. “But when you have a free moment, go down to the memorial sites from your father’s many wars, and compare them to your grandfather’s. And when you find that the disparity skews in a way you don’t expect,” Thaddeus stared straight at me. “Perhaps you should ask all those that died to pay the price of King Sigfast’s honor, how much they appreciate their king’s predilection for piety.”
“Go fuck yourself, Thaddeus,” I growled.
He left a gold rod on the table and departed, calling over his shoulder. “Let me know when you’re ready for another recommendation.”
/////
Now.
Thaddeus’s parting words echoed through my head as I faced down the faceless angel, watching in desperate nausea as Thoth’s wounds healed. I hadn’t had a choice. The moment I realized what Ozra was doing, and he broke the truce, there was no going back. Despair sunk through me. I’d tried to do the right thing, the rational thing, and it hadn’t mattered. My entire body buzzed with the infusion of Thoth’s power from the Infarai.
The Decarabia held out a ghostly white hand, an orb of golden light forming in its palm, so much power charging the air that my bones almost turned to jelly.
Ozra moved a clawed hand behind his back where only I could see it, indicating a direction. Left.
Is he trying to get me killed?
But as Ozra darted right, grabbing Thoth by the neck and carrying her across the room, I followed his direction and darted left towards the angel. The only thing that saved me was that the creature was so distracted by Ozra’s sudden distance that I was able to close the gap, hold up a triple reinforced aegis, and thrust the demon gauntlet on my arm directly into the glowing light.
When the demon gauntlet rejected the Decarabia’s light magic, the room instantly went white and I was tossed violently, landing on my side and rolling, sliding from the sheer force of the detonation.
My entire body shuddered, my muscles straining as I tried to push myself up. The angel hadn’t even directly hit me, and it felt worse than strikes that killed me in the past. I wiped a trickle of blood from my mouth, gathering myself. There was no way of measuring, but unless I was totally off the mark, I’d wager the Decarabia no greater demon. Which only left one grim, damning possibility.
Thoth had an arch-fiend.
This was beyond worst case. It was catastrophically bad. I was locked in an engagement with my mortal enemy and an arch-fiend, and my only possible edge—the resets, were being held hostage by a beast in the afterlife with a grudge.
Thoth was the key. I’d done a great deal of research on the topic of demonic contracts. Whatever the details of the deal she had with the demon were, their agreement was almost certainly null and void if she died.
The angel recovered from its disorientation almost instantly, glared at me, then turned in an almost dance-like swish of fabric and chased after Ozra, leaving ethereal orbs in a scattered trail. I ran after it, dodging between the orbs. There was a buzzing, bass-like drone, and the closest orb shot towards me. I spun to the side, but it curved tightly, just as on-target as before.
There was a pressure in my skull as I dropped, the orb passing directly over my head and into a pillar, leaving a golden imprint the size of a boulder.
There were no second chances with this thing. The only reason I was still alive was because its attention was split. I moved forward carefully, baiting the light orbs into pillars, deafened from the cracking of rock. In the distance, I saw Ozra zipping across the stone floor in quick flight, still towing Thoth in one arm. When he stopped for a moment, turning to launch a series of large attacks at the advancing Decarabia, I saw Thoth in greater detail: She was bleeding from new wounds, two metal rods that bisected her middle.
Her daggers. Ozra manipulated their metal and ran her through.
It seemed that the arch-fiend had finally started taking this seriously. Still, even with Ozra dragging her back and forth, Thoth never looked away from me. The hatred in her golden eyes was palpable, thick and foreboding.
Fuck. Fuck. Regret tore at me. Thoth was going to let us walk. Could I do it over? If I just had one more loop and took the proper preparations.
No. Maya will die.
And Thoth had no intention of letting me live. In her own words, it was a stay of execution. This was going to happen eventually. I couldn’t think about possibilities, about what could have happened. I had to make this count.
When I finally made it through the light field, I wasn’t fast enough. The angel was harrying Ozra, blisteringly fast, swinging a massive halberd in one hand that cleaved through pillars. Ozra deflected and dodged the blows with an almost casual contempt. Eventually, his luck ran out. He was so focused on the angel, he missed the falling column. It landed directly on top of him, sending him sprawling, and Thoth tumbled out of his grip.
Thoth hit the ground hard and tucked her chin, rolling once and landing upright. For a moment, she swayed, like a sapling in the wind. Then she reached up with one hand, grabbing the base of one of the daggers that bisected her side, and tore it free with a pained scream.
Ozra and the fallen angel blurred in a battle too quick to see, with blows strong enough to make the entire chamber shake. There was a large crack and a crack split the floor as they broke apart. Both looked haggard. Ozra panted, his chest piece torn away to reveal bloodied muscle beneath. The Decarabia’s previous pristine garb was tattered and defaced with a black ichor.
Ozra backed away from the angel, looking back towards Thoth, who was having less luck getting the second ruined dagger extracted from her ribcage. Her expression was red and winded, and every inch she pulled the dagger free revealed a twisted and tangled metal.
How? That should have shredded her organs.
Ozra had apparently come to the same conclusion, staring at Thoth with a frown. The angel took the distraction as an opening, swooping high and diving straight down, its hands wreathed in pure golden light.
I wasn’t going to get there in time. And even if I did, I’m not sure what I would have done.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to do anything.
A tidal wave of water mingled with pure mana slapped the angel out of the sky. Jorra stood on a fallen pillar, his face a mask of strain and focus, as an endless monsoon of water poured from Infaris’s gem. The angel fell back in the current before it thrashed upright, no longer losing ground.
Ozra grabbed Thoth by the throat and hauled her away. She didn’t go as easily this time, clinging tightly to Ozra’s arm with both hands and struggling, trying much more actively to free herself.
Jorra looked over to me with pride, and grinned wildly. I couldn’t help but smile back.
And then I saw the angel, rising from the water like a great leviathan. It was enraged. And for the first time it wasn’t even looking at Ozra. Its fiery gaze locked on Jorra alone.
“Run” I whispered through the wind, delivering the statement with as much emphasis as I could muster. Jorra slowly looked back to the angel, held up a shaky raven, and sprinted down the path, breathing heavily.
I swore under my breath. We’d taken the angel’s attention away from Thoth—hopefully giving Ozra enough time to do something substantial—but now Jorra was in peril.
I found myself split, between Jorra and Thoth. Thoth needed to die. But Jorra was my friend. He’d followed me into hell.
What could even do?
The angel answered for me. With an ethereal swipe of a glowing sword, it sent an arc of light directly at Jorra. I knew, with a sinking heart, that the result was inevitable.
But Bell was already there. She’d appeared from nowhere, and I realized she must have been in the void-state since the fighting broke out. Bell stepped in front of Jorra, her face grim, and swiped upward, cleaving the arcing light in two.
My mouth fell open. The angel looked at Bell and cocked his head, as if not fully understanding what had just happened. Then I got it. Bell had used her new sword, the artifact from the trial.
Relief in my heart, I pulled the Infarai from the satchel at my side and aimed it directly at the angel. It grew warm in my hand, then blisteringly hot. A wave of energy entered me, revitalizing me, my mana completely restored and fortified.
This was it. The moment was now. The inscriptions in my legs burned, then bled, as I crossed the room in an instant, arriving at Ozra’s side.
Thoth, bleeding grievously, had fought her way back to her feet. She was standing awkwardly, warding off Ozra with golden magic shrouding her hands. Maya made it there before me, her expression fierce as she tore at Thoth’s armor. She was either uncomfortable or unwilling to use the demon-fire and was trying to get at an exposed patch of skin while the woman was distracted, anything she could use as an anchor for life magic.
It looked like we were winning. All I had to do was break her concentration. Then, either Ozra would finish it or Maya’s life magic would.
I grabbed at a ruined section of armor at her shoulder, where there was a jagged slash opening the protective surface. Thoth drove an elbow at me, and I abandoned the attempt to catch it. Even with a fraction of both her and her demon’s power, and her weakened state, the blow was teeth rattling.
Stunned, I took a half step back and saw the reason her stance looked so awkward. Her foot dipped directly into the mana pool. Sea green tendrils of pure energy trickled up toward her.
“Get away!” I shouted. But it was too late. The tendrils of energy became a dozen small streams, all centered directly around her heart. A rancid, burning scent pervaded the air. Maya jettisoned back, hitting the ground hard. Ozra was only pushed handspan. But the surprise in his expression was far more alarming.
I spared a glance behind us to see that the angel had disentangled from Bell and Jorra and was speeding towards us.
“Progeny,” Ozra said, through labored breathing. “Now would be an ideal time for you to run.”
Thoth’s mouth widened to a bloody grin, and she spit a tooth. The dark aura coalesced around her. Then she looked at Ozra. “My turn.”
I didn’t see her move. There was a blur of motion, and Ozra’s head snapped back as if his jaw had been struck by a sledgehammer. His entire body spun as he flew back, flying through pillar after pillar, until he hit the chamber wall.
Thoth staggered toward me and stumbled. The flow of mana continued to stream into her, increasing in intensity. I found myself almost paralyzed in its wake. It was overwhelmingly difficult to move, as if my legs had forgotten how. She was only going to get stronger. Our only window of opportunity had closed.
I had lost.
Thoth staggered towards me. In her left hand, she held one of the ruined daggers, snapped off at the hilt. She waved her right hand over it in a ragged motion, and the dagger began to glow sickly green, the same deathly color it was when she first killed me a lifetime ago.
Desperate and unable to move my lower body, I swung diagonally towards her neck. She didn’t dodge so much as shift, her upper torso bending backwards as if she had no rib cage. It spoke to her state of mind that there was no gloating, no pontificating. Nothing readable in her gaze but rage and hatred.
Thoth was going to kill me. And Maya was going to die. Over and over again. Panic washed resolution away as I realized there was no way out. No escape.
Time slowed down. Thoth pulled the dagger back, and with an animalistic grunt, plunged it home.
I heard the knife slide into flesh. But I felt nothing.
“No.” Thoth’s voice. Surprised. Understated.
Thoth recoiled, retreated a few steps and fell. The energy flowing from the pool overcame her and she began to thrash uncontrollably. An invisible net held her.
There was a cough, and a sputter. I looked down into the sea-blue eyes of a little girl. Her hands were wrapped tightly around my neck. It only took a second to recognize her as the child who spoke to me outside the Sanctum. She smiled, as one might if woken from a pleasant dream.
“Aethro.”
Then she hacked, guttural and deep, coughing blood onto my shirt. Her fists clung to me tightly.
“It hurts…”
In a moment of realization, I lifted her back in a panic, checking for damage. Thoth’s dagger had pierced straight through her. If the dagger had been an inch longer, or the girl a hair thinner, it would have killed me. The girl had shielded me.
The angel passed by us, clearly prioritizing its disabled master now that we were no longer aggressing, but I could feel the hate in its gaze.
“You foolish girl!” Thoth roared. “For him? He’s worthless! He’s always been worthless. Gods dammit!”
“Not… to me.” The girl’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
The Decarabia busied itself, freeing Thoth’s from the magical binds the girl had somehow applied.
“Put me down.”
“We can heal you,” I insisted, my throat dry.
The girl indicated the wound on her chest. “Cleansing this… is beyond you and her both. Go… made a deal… with Infaris. The way is open… Will not be for long. You have to go.” The girl whispered.
“We can talk about it later.” I took a step forward to pick her up anyway, but impacted an invisible wall.
“No.” Though small and quiet, her voice was fierce. “Don’t waste this. Don’t try to save me. I always die here. Have always died her. Will always…” the girl trailed off.
“At least tell me your name,” I pleaded. I’m not certain why, but it felt important. Maybe so I could offer a prayer for her, or at least know the name of this tiny person who had reached out her hand to set me on the right path, not once but twice.
“Sorry.” The little girl forced a pained smile, and said in a voice centuries too tired for her appearance. “I’m hoping… if I don’t… maybe… you won’t bring me back this time.”
That statement left me with too many questions to count. But I could see Thoth in the background, beginning to free herself from her restraints with the aid of her demon.
“I’ll find you.” Thoth tore her gaze away from the girl to glare at me with hateful eyes.
I know.
With that, I turned and fled, hauling Maya up by the shoulder.
Maya summoned Kastramoth, both of us scrambling up his back. Jorra clasped Bell’s arm and hauled her up behind us.
“Who was that?” Bell asked me over Jorra’s shoulder.
“No idea,” I said. Because who she was seemed less important than who she looked like. The way her sandy hair had formed a halo around her head. The way she’d smiled. It all seemed too familiar. I was jerked out of the thought as Kastramoth began to sprint, his movements far more jarring than a horses gait.
“Talk later!” Maya yelled, “The mausoleum is collapsing!” She kicked her heels into Kastramoth’s sides and he was off.
The countless bodies in our wake seemed to whisper and laugh, a reminder of the bloodshed to come. A piece of rubble fell from the ceiling, striking Kastramoth in the head and sending the rest of us flying. We staggered through the gaping entrance, passed the torn-open gate.
“Cairn!” Thoth’s scream resonated from deeper within. There was a terrible noise, as if the mausoleum itself was being torn apart stone by stone. The grass and dirt itself flowed inward to the mouth of the mausoleum, hindering our progress.
“Over there! Look!” Bellarex had reappeared a small distance from the gate. The panic in my chest subsided as I saw what she found. Infaris’s portal was open at the mouth of the graveyard. I didn’t know how the girl had convinced the goddess to aid us. Maybe Infaris just hated Thoth. Perhaps there was a greater plan at play. Either way, at that moment it didn’t matter.
The ringing in my ears came back, stronger than ever before. Thoth was right behind us. I felt a gust of her as she rushed up behind me, her fingers grazing my neck.
We pushed through the portal and landed hard. Once the nauseating mix of inertia and disembodiment faded, I recognized the location instantly. It was the site of the last loop, where we were first ambushed. I fell to my knees panting on the spongey ground. Maya was already beside me. Jorra landed roughly a few feet away.
The only sound was the chirping of birds.
“She looked like you.” Maya said quietly.
My attention snapped to Maya. “Her hair and face were all wrong.”
“I didn’t see much of her. But she had your eyes. What did she call you?”
“Aethra,” I said. The word felt heavy in my mouth.
“I do not recognize it.” Maya said. Neither did I.
Jorra started to laugh.
“Brother?” Maya pushed herself up and tentatively moved forward.
“I can’t believe it,” Jorra said.
I sat back on my knees, still winded, watching Jorra with caution. “Can’t believe what?”
“The four of us just got in caught up in knife-fight involving the leaders of two demonic legions and a stupidly powerful mage, and we actually made it.” Jorra laughed harder.
I wasn’t really ready to see the humor, but the laughter was infections. Maya started chuckling. A smile tugged at my lips. We might all be dead soon. But for the moment, we were alive.
“I can’t believe you actually caught an arch-fiend’s magic with your gauntlet.” Jorra wiped his eyes.
I nodded. “And then you tried to drown him.”
“That was so much water, Jorra.” Maya held a hand over her mouth.
“Too much.” I shook my head. “You’re lucky the ceiling was so high.”
Jorra shrugged, as if he too, was surprised by how much water there was. “I thought I was a goner. If Bell hadn’t saved me, I would have been in torn to pieces…”
He trailed off. We all went silent as the realization dawned. Bell wasn’t with us.
Comments
Paul Jaeger
Happy new year and thanks for the triple chapters! "Have always died her" -> here
