Chains of a Dark Goddess (25 page)

“By all the dirty gods, are those Valiants?” Whum asked.

“They are. Risen from the dead as well. I have more outside the city.”

As the Valiants stopped, three of the horses collapsed from exhaustion. One was dead before he struck the ground. 

“Sergeant Ovikian,” Breskaro said as the lead Valiant dismounted. “The enemy lies within. Take your men inside and slaughter everyone you find who is not a Knight of the Dark or a Valiant.”

“Yes, master.”

Sergeant Ovikian limped into the doorway, was struck by three crossbow bolts, and continued to limp forward. The other soldiers began to file in after him. Screams followed, bloody terrible screams. There followed desperate cries for mercy, prayers to deities who were hearing these voices for the first time ever, if they heard them at all. 

No mercy was given.

“What do you intend to do here? I’m grateful for being saved, but...”

Breskaro looked to the Darkhearts in the alley, men who were frightened enough to flee yet too frightened to try. They were stunned and overwhelmed. Attacked and then saved by undead warriors.

“You men, are you loyal to Whum?”

They nodded their heads.

“Know that your brethren tried to sell you out to members of the City Council who wish to surrender to the Issalians. They believe they will be safer plying their trade regardless of who rules. This will not be the case.”

“What
are
you playing at?” Whum said.

“Old friend, I’m going to take over this city in the name of Harmulkot. And I’m going to defend this city from the Issalians who betrayed me. I will fight them to the death.”

“Why?”

“In death Seshalla abandoned me. But Harmulkot brought me back. If I should win out, she will save Orisala from the miserable existence she has been condemned to.”

“Orisala,” Whum murmured.

“I would do anything for her.”

“I know this.”

“Are you with me?”

Whum looked him in the eyes. “You’re not a demon?”

“I might as well be.”

“But you are still Breskaro Varenni?”

“I am.”

“I find myself believing you. Gods, man. Dear gods.”

“What of it, men?” Breskaro said, but they didn’t respond.

“You ask much of them, Breskaro. These aren’t soldiers. You’re scary as hell, and even with your Valiants, undead as they may be, a city’s not easy to take.”

“Harmulkot, come forth.” 

The ghost of Harmulkot billowed out from the qavra. There were shrieks among the thieves but none moved, for she looked as the goddess looked in all her depictions within the city: paintings, reliefs, statues — her form was everywhere, especially in the Darkhearts’ headquarters and the secret shrine where they had all taken their oaths as thieves and assassins. Their ancient order had been created by Harmulkot to maintain a healthy and yet controlled level of chaos in her realm.

“I am your goddess,” said Harmulkot. “This I can prove to you all.” She made then gestures with her hands and spoke words that sounded like nonsense to Breskaro. Her eyes flashed. And then the eyes of those who looked upon her flashed as well.

All of the Darkhearts, Whum included, knelt and bowed before her.

“Madam Harmulkot,” said Whum sincerely, “we are at your service.”

“Then you shall rise, my loyal followers, my Guild of Darkhearts. You shall be restored to your rightful place of respect. You have not forgotten me, and in turn, I shall not forget you. Our covenant is renewed.”

She held her hands out. “Help me retake this city from those who do not believe in me. You will not do this as soldiers. That is not who you are. We have the Valiants for that. You will do what you do best. You will assassinate those leaders not loyal to us. You will follow Breskaro’s orders, for he is my champion.”

“We have to move swiftly,” Breskaro said. “The council members will soon know that the guards have been slaughtered.”

“In that case,” said Whum, “we must know which ones are traitors. I can guess many but I am certain of few.”

Breskaro headed into the warehouse. “I can extract that information. Detail your men, Whum. If you need assistance from my Valiants, they’re at your service, though they are crude creatures and not able to think for themselves.”

Breskaro emerged a half-hour later with a list of names scrawled onto a sheet of parchment. Only four Darkhearts remained with Whum. He had already dispatched the others on various tasks. No one else in the city had yet discovered what happened. When fights occurred in Mûlkra, people nearby hid until the coast was well clear.

“Here are those which must be killed,” Breskaro said.

“How’d you get the names?”

Breskaro held out blood-soaked hands. “Do you really wish to know?”

Whum shook his head. “Getting to all of them won’t be easy, but we can do it.” Whum’s eyes grew wide as he glanced within the warehouse. “Why are the guardsmen rising to their feet?”

“I’ve animated their bodies. Their souls are departed. They are my undead warriors now, as are the Valiants. My army of the dead.”

“Surely we can stop the Issalian crusade with such help.”

“Don’t be so certain. These minions are dumb and limited in number. And the magic could fail. But they are our best asset, one we must keep out of sight for now.”

Esha bobbed up. “Larekal replaced me on the watch with Chentius, master.” She half-bowed before Whum. “I’m Esha. Master’s shield-maiden.”

Whum returned the bow and eyed Breskaro. “A child is your shield-maiden?”

“I’ll explain later.”

A soldier came walking down the alleyway.

“Captain Amrasi!” Breskaro exclaimed. “Why are you late?”

“I rode my horse to death when you told me to get to the Valiants fast, master.”

“Why didn’t you not take another soldier’s horse and lead them? You are the leader. It would be best for you to stay with them, instead of another knight.”

He looked confused then shook his head. “I don’t know, master.”

“See,” Breskaro said to Whum. “They can take many wounds but they can’t think. Captain, clean the mess up within and hide there with the rest of the Valiants. You will have to stable your horses in there as well. It wouldn’t be good for you to be seen too much in the streets. Did you meet resistance at the city gates?” he asked Amrasi and another Valiant.

“We were observed,” the other Valiant said. “But they didn’t do anything.”

“This city is pathetic. If the Issalians were here already they could take it easily. Whum, do you need assistance?”

“No, my men can handle it.”

“See that it’s done, then.”

Chapter 34

Magnos Togisi dismissed the priestess as soon as Deltenya’s pyre was lit. No one else was there. He had forbade the servants from attending.

“I don’t blame Breskaro,” he muttered, his voice inaudible over the roar of the flames. “Not anymore. He fell prey to your charms. We were both under your spell. I could see it no more than he could. And I don’t blame him for killing you when you brought him back. It’s what you deserved.”

Magnos clenched his fists. “I
will
right all this. After the Crusade is over I shall use my exile to quest for the Sacred Stone of Elthea, the one Breskaro talked about but never got the chance to do because of the Third Crusade, because of his death ... because of me ... I will seek out the stone in my exile. I will finish his work. 

“But first I will see that the evil and hatred that animates him is expelled. So that his soul can travel on to Paradise. I will see us
both
through to redemption. This I promise.”

He watched the pyre burn to the ground, as he had with Albiria. But he shed no tears this time. 

As the last embers flickered out, Magnos joined a somber feast of remembrance, attended by the castle staff, Kedimius, and Ilsimia. Deltenya had no living relatives left. And Magnos’ relatives would not have attended the funeral, for rumors were already spreading that Deltenya had been a witch.

The meal passed in silence. The servants filtered out. They served him coldly now. A witch she may have been, but the staff had loved Lady Deltenya. They had never cared much for their lord. They left bread, cheese, and wine on the table and departed.

He stared into his wine cup.

I’m a wretch. No friends. No family. My allies hate me. Even my servants. The Matriarch has condemned me. I am nothing.

After long minutes of silence with the servants gone but with Ilsimia and Kedimius still there, he looked up and said to Kedimius: 

“Well, out with it. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“Breskaro
loved
you,” Kedimius said coldly.

“I know that.” 

Kedimius didn’t respond.

“You have no more to say?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been said already.”

“We were both misled by a witch. You have no idea what she did to us.”

“The problem was only you, General. Lady Deltenya was a witch? Fine, but she was always kind to me and exceedingly good to Orisala. I thought you were a good man, we all did, but you’re a monster.” Kedimius picked up a knife and turned it in his hands. “I would kill you for Breskaro’s sake, but we must fix this together, you and I. Breskaro is what he is because of you. He has turned his back on Seshalla, because of you. I will help you finish the crusade. But if he doesn’t kill you, then when all of this is finished I will.”

Ilsimia put a hand on Kedimius’ shoulder. “Ked, be calm—”

He shook her hand off his shoulder. “I
vow
this tonight, General. I shall see you
slain
on the field of battle by Breskaro’s hand or
mine
.”

Magnos threw out his hands and shrugged. “When we are finished with this crusade, do as you wish. I won’t stop you.”

With that Magnos rose from his seat and went up into his empty chambers to sleep with his nightmares. There were four guards and two priestesses, crystal matrixes in hand, outside his door. 

“Come for me, old friend,” he whispered into the night. “Let us end it now.”

Breskaro didn’t come.

Chapter 35

Kedimius stared out the window into a night lit by a bright, nearly full Avida. Ilsimia had bathed, recited her prayers, and brushed her hair.

“Come to bed,” she told him.

“What must it have been like for him?” Kedimius said. “In the Shadowland? Wandering, waiting for a chance to come back for revenge. How could the Goddess have forsaken him?”

“We cannot know what sins Breskaro had in his heart. Like Togisi, maybe he wasn’t the man we all thought him to be.”

His eyes narrowed but he let her comment pass,
this time
. 

“I disappointed him. He said I’d failed him, and Orisala. You can’t understand how that makes me feel. I tried all my life to live up to his expectations. He was a father and a hero to me. Now ... He’s broken, demented. He can’t see the evil he does. Our old friend Whum was one of Mûlkra’s Darkhearts. A criminal who worshiped a false goddess, but despite that, he wasn’t evil, just misguided. Breskaro has crossed that line.”

“I think, perhaps, you underestimate the sins of your old comrade,” she said, with the worried tone she always used when he talked of his old adventures with Breskaro and Whum.

“You didn’t know him, Mia. Whum saved our lives and was loyal beyond measure to those he deemed his friends. Without him, the Spear of the Eternal Sun would never have been returned to Issaly.”

“Be that as it may,” she replied, “you have to remember that this is not the Breskaro of your past who’s disappointed in you, Ked. It’s this
monster
. Their origin may be the same, but they are
not
the same person. You must divorce them in your mind. We have a job to do and we must be strong in our faith if we are to succeed.”

“Are we really noble?”

“Ked! What — What are you saying?”

“What Togisi did was awful and it makes me wonder ... If the Matriarch still feels that he is the best we have to offer, is still willing to have him lead Seshalla’s army, how pure and just are our intentions?”

“Our cause is
always
just.”

“I thought we were making the world a better place. I know bad things happen. There’s rape and pillage in war, though we try to control it. I know good people die on the other side, fighting for what they believe is right, mistaken as they are. But are we truly bringing about a better world for future generations?”

“We
are
making the world a better place,” Ilsimia said. “We are. There’s more evil out there than you realize. You’ve seen too much of war, and now facing your old mentor like this ... Be strong in your faith. Unless we stamp out the remnants of the old sorceries, wherever they may be, we cannot perfect humanity and we cannot prevent atrocities like Breskaro’s return.”

“I wonder though,” Kedimius muttered. “I wonder. Breskaro was our greatest champion. Togisi our greatest general. Next I will learn that the Matriarch herself is corrupt. That Seshalla does not smile upon us. Maybe she doesn’t exist at all. She wasn’t there for Breskaro.”