Date: Thu, 9 May 2013 15:53:34 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 31 of "The Assassin's Apprentice" - Gay Science Fiction
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*****
Chapter 31
Ser Calisto Blackmoor does not have eyes. He has pinpoints of crimson
anger that glow like the lava storms of Tempest Mountain. And by the gods,
I swear he's huge...at least a foot taller than I and with shoulders half
again as broad. He has a stink about him that I should have expected from
the undead. It's a fetid odor of decay, and it wafts from his armor like
the odor produced from the fermentation of cabbage.
I see exposed bone underneath the length of his ebony-colored
vambraces. I wonder what kind of penis such a creature possesses under all
that metal. If the bulk of him has turned to desiccated skin while the rest
has rotted, with what does he use to fuck? Still, he must have something
squishy inside of him for it feeds the maggots that occasionally roll from
between his joints as he walks in (what I can only guess) are size twenty
iron boots. They dwarf my size ten feet, which are so narrow they could
belong to a gymnast. I know they're average for a man but would appear
dainty next to his.
"Those are grotesque," Talen whispers in my helmet. I see what he's
looking at. The maggots pelt the floor like moist pieces of rice with tiny
black heads. I smash quite a few of them as I stride behind the nude
sorceress. "I'm so sorry, Kian," he whispers. I can tell by the tone in his
voice that he's on the verge of crying. He even sniffs a little. When I
glance his direction all I see is the shiny reflective exterior of his
glass visor and his gorgeous black and emerald killsuit. But I know he's
staring at me red-faced and puffy right now.
Dammit...don't do this now, I think. We need to appear fearless.
"About what?" I ask softly. Despite my frustration at the timing of
these drippy feelings, I want to rub Talen's shoulders. I can't
though. It's just not the time or the place for such affection. I
surreptitiously take his armored hand in mine and give it a reassuring
squeeze.
"For almost-" he gags, "t-turning you over to
t-that...m-monster. Gods...I want to vomit at the thought of him raping you
with...w-whatever eel or grotesque appendage he has underneath that
disgusting codpiece."
"Don't cry over milk that hasn't been spilt," I say to him. "You came
back to me before the end and for that I'm so grateful."
He sighs. He sniffs but doesn't say anything.
So I do the talking. "I love you, Talen. But I need you to be strong
right now. Just focus, okay?"
He nods. I look at Calisto but he doesn't seem to notice Talen's
gesture. I don't want to clue him or anyone else into the fact Talen and I
can have private conversations when wearing our killsuits. Instantaneous
communication over a distance? That's the kind of magic that can win a war.
"Watch the body gestures," I warn him.
"Huh?" he asks. "Oh right. Sorry, I just wasn't thinking."
"It's okay."
Talen does have it right though. The death knight general is as
disgusting as they come. Depending from his massive shoulders is a
tattered cloak that's seen better days...and to be clear, by "better," I
mean anything that hasn't been ravaged by moths and shit on by rats. It
looks like a burial raiment and bears many blood and possibly--wait--could
those be semen stains? Ugh, some are fresh and others old. His blackened
armor is dented in places, scratched in others, and his tabard looks
shredded by human fingers. The rips are just far enough apart to fit the
fingers of my own hand if I imagine placing them there. My mind fills with
images of young boys desperately fighting Calisto off as he climbs on top
of them to rut his foul bile into their guts.
How awful.
The obscene appearance of his steel codpiece gives me the
willies. It's a thick hammered bowl with indentations for nuts the size of
kiwi fruit. Dense mats of fur spring forth around the edges, long coarse
black hairs, as if Calisto rammed it on with a mallet and cared not that
his jungle of pubis stuck out in every which way. And as untamed as that
man bush appears, it's also crawling with lice. I can see them jumping onto
the carpet through the magnification of the visor.
In his left hand, Calisto carries a shield; across his back, a
sword. It's a mighty weapon with a four foot blade made heavy with a weight
of lead in the fuller. It possesses a two foot handle; the crosspiece is a
skull with no eyes. It's done in silver and black metal and the pommel is
decorated with a smooth shock of long white-blond hair, no doubt cut from
an Atlantean just like me.
Fucking bastard. It's like my race got birthed into this world so
that our body parts could be used as upholstery. I swear to nothing but the
silence in my mind that if there's a way to make Calisto suffer, I shall
find it.
I clench my fist, just waiting for an opportunity to scrape this
horror from the face of the world. One less ugly thing to plague the people
of Wynwrayth is a good deed, right? I think for a moment about the concept
of good. What is it really? I know I'm a bad person, but I'd never
willingly kill someone that didn't deserve it. Nor would I bring harm to
another. I'm forced to admit I killed an innocent child once, here...in the
very streets of Soulwarden. But I wouldn't have done it if I'd been strong
enough to resist the compulsion of the Eros. I guess I didn't know what I
was getting into, and I was so stuck on myself that I couldn't see the
dangers of my pride. So yeah, the concept of what is good eludes
me. However, I know good when I see it. I also know evil when I see
it. Calisto is evil; so is Ravidan.
I glance at the demon walking behind me.
I'd call Ravidan an "it," but I know the bony cock between the legs
defines the creature as a "he." It's long and surrounded by a scale-covered
sheath. It's also punishingly thick. I'm sure he'd be a miserable lay for
anyone not used to regularly giving birth. Any man he fucked would die from
perforations to the colon.
Kahket sashays her way into another room, Calisto by her side.
Talen and I follow behind them, guided by the glow from a lit
fireplace. Ravidan takes up the rear, shedding freezing cold wherever he
steps with those enormous clawed feet. The aura of hoarfrost emanating from
Ravidan's glistening black skin is so powerful it creates a swirl of
snowflakes in his immediate vicinity, literally sucking the moisture from
the air.
I wonder if this is why the place is kept so hot.
I spy a window, high and narrow, with a grid of iron bars. Beneath my
feet, the carpet remains vermillion; the walls are either painted red or
hang with velvet wallpaper that alternates between black, gold and
scarlet. Beyond this window beckons the sweet violet night. Oh how I long
for it. The solitude of comforting darkness pours into this place; dull
shadows reflect off of the stone walls and velvet tapestries.
I drop Talen's hand when I see a movement in the corner. It's beyond
the curve of Kahket's hips; I move to the side to get a better look. It's
Angelaria. She's lying against the far wall, garments soiled with what
looks like feces. Her kitten meows softly at her. She's got a blackened
eye, a bleeding lip. There's blood on her dress.
"Fuck me," I swear under my breath.
Talen gasps in horror. "Did they rape her?" he asks, but the question
is rhetorical. The evidence is pretty clear what kind of crime recently
took place. I hear him swallow uncomfortably.
Talen's a good person inside; I think I bring out the worst in him
actually. He got so angry with her, I know. But seeing her like this moves
EVEN me. I'm dead to rights the one that should visualize her as a
corpse...that should want her punished. I start to question myself. Maybe
I'm not cut out to be an assassin. Maybe I'm just a victim masquerading as
someone who wants to talk tough and be "the man" when really...I can't
be. I can't be because I'm like a crab: hard on the outside but with a soft
gooey interior. And seeing Angelaria like this makes me mad, really mad. I
want to take vengeance on those who would do this to a girl. I know the
time is very soon. It's just not right now.
"I hope not," I say to my boyfriend. "No one deserves that."
"I thought she did," Talen says, regret layered thick in his
voice. "I-I know I thought that...wished it even. But if it really
happened...gods. I'm a horrible person, buddy. How can you possibly love
me?"
Angelaria looks at us without comprehension. She has a cut on her
head and blood has trickled into the one eye that isn't swollen
shut. Calisto steps forward and brutally grabs her kitten. Verrr starts to
meow louder, complaining.
"No!" she cries out, reaching for the small animal. But Calisto hurls
it on the ground and steps on it, crushing the poor thing like an
insect. Blood and guts erupt from Verrr, and it dies shrieking.
"You monster!" she exclaims, but Calisto bitch slaps her when she
struggles to stand.
Talen turns away. "She loved that cat," he sobs. "I kind of liked
Verrr too."
I swallow. Calisto wipes his boot on the carpet.
"I'll get her," Talen says. "It should be me anyway since I'm partly
responsible for this by turning her out onto the street with no
protection."
"You forgive her?" I ask.
He looks at me, and then back at her. "No. I'm not to that point
yet. I don't know if I ever will be. But this...whatever this is...it ends
now. When she's better, when she's able to go it alone, when we're all far
from this place; then she's got to go. She's got to walk her own path. But
I'm not a monster. I'm not going to leave her here with these men."
Talen walks to her side, and I feel so proud of him. She looks at
Talen's visor once and turns away from him. But Talen kneels and puts his
arm under Angelaria's back to support her. She fights him a little at
first, but then concedes she's safer with him than anyone else. During this
time Calisto looks on in amusement, and Kahket studies me intently
sometimes blowing kisses in my direction and at other times licking her
lips seductively.
I really don't like her.
"Do you two know each other?" she asks. "We caught the girl trying to
leave Soulwarden. The church of Moh-Dehll has quite a bounty on her as
well as two boys that she declares are now dead. I plan to collect on that
bounty later, after she gives us what we want."
"I don't know her," I say. "But we're not going to stand around and
let you hurt this girl anymore."
"As if you could stop me...but it's no matter, Hunter. You shouldn't
get too cozy with her. I've stolen her magic to fuel my own. If she did
have power, I assure you that she's a woman who doesn't take kindly to
men."
Angelaria spoke up. "I'm a woman that doesn't take kindly to pigs who
sodomize me!" she yells. "And I dispute that you would even call such
cowards 'men.'"
Kahket laughs. "But the shit on your dress...it complements your
hair."
Then, I see what could be her rapist.
It's Mordred...the knight that wanted to sodomize me with a dick so
long and rigid that you'd see it raising the skin on my abdomen as he
buried it in my rectum. I'd recognize those blood red eyes, the long white
hair, and the inky black skin anywhere. He strides in wearing the polished
armor of a Darkglory Timeron Knight, weighted razor cloak sweeping about
his colossal boots. He's got his engorged dick in his hand, milking the
last of his load with his fingers as it softens, and he stuffs it away
behind his codpiece.
"That was very satisfying, princess," Mordred says to her. "But I
couldn't risk fucking your pussy, even a virgin one such as your own. You
see, I'm a Timeron Knight. And a woman has to prove her body worthy to
receive my seed, because even if it accidentally results in a child, the
child is mine. You're not worthy...not of this," he gestures at his own
magnificence. "I've seen whores in taverns that were more worthy to be my
brood mare than you."
Angelaria spits on him. "My father will have your head for this! I
swear he'll execute your whole perverted squadron of knights. And as for
you...he'll pluck your eyeballs from your skulls and feed them to the
fish."
Mordred turns his rugged face to her once, before examining both
Talen and I. I see his step stiffen as he catches sight of the contours of
my body in the skin-tight killsuit. I know he's just staring at lines; he
has no idea who I am. But Tethyr's Teeth is he ever pleased with what he
sees.
"What have we here?" Mordred asks, tone obviously flirty. "If I'd
known you were bringing me a man that looks like THIS in his armor, I'd
have waited to satisfy my lust in his ass instead of hers." He walks around
me like a merchant inspecting an animal at market. "Look at that butt," he
whispers, fingering his chin. "It's perfect...so round. I bet you've got a
tiny sweet pucker, boy. I had a chance at one only this week...the first
perfectly round piece of paradise in all the years of my life. But it got
away. Yet here's another only a short time later. Taleta truly is the
goddess of bounty." He reaches out to feel me but I strike his hand aside
so swiftly it writes pain across his smug face.
"Why you little-"
"You could only be so lucky," I interrupt him, voice sounding
metallic through the speech synthesizer. Then I spring the two blades on
my wrist causing him to jump back. They're almost as long as swords and
reflect light in all colors of the rainbow.
"Cibrian blades," Calisto says with a gasp.
"You know what that means don't you?" I ask. I stare at Mordred,
although in the armored visor, it probably just looks like I'm facing
him. "It means I could cut you to pieces with every swipe of my wrist. I
could leave you a pile of stumps, Mordred. You'd have to change your name
to Doormat."
"Mordred," Kahket says to him. "This is Hunter, and he's to be obeyed
as readily as I am. Is this understood?"
The knight looks at the sorceress and scowls. "You fucking whore. I
ally myself with you for only a day and you think you can make requests of
me?"
Kahket raises her hand as if to strike him. Green lightning courses
across her fingertips and blazes with a brightness akin to the rising sun.
But Calisto is swifter.
He grabs Kahket's arm in his right gauntlet. Pale blue fire swirls
around his fingers and burns her flesh. I hear whispers coming from that
fire. For a minute, there's nothing but tension. Then the flames slowly go
out; Kahket draws them into herself.
Somehow, she's able to absorb magic. How in the lowest pits of hell
is that possible?
"Forgive me, Calisto. I only acted to chastise your man," Kahket
says. There's no emotion in her voice; no fear. "I didn't think you felt
so strongly about him, considering he could have been one of those who
betrayed you...one of those whose entrails now decorate the walls of the
torture room."
The Death Knight lets her go. A black ring of dead flesh surrounds
her wrist. It looks painful, but she reveals no such discomfort on her
face. And soon, the flesh begins to turn pink, healing at an accelerated
rate.
Calisto speaks in a low baritone to Mordred. "My brother, you WILL
obey Kahket or I shall remove your guts through your mouth. You brought a
conspiracy to my attention, but your own innocence in the scheme that would
have me deposed whilst I fucked a boy cunt has not earned you any
favor. You'd be wise to appease our allies or I shall be forced to rethink
your usefulness."
Calisto folds his arms, eyes glowing with red fire. Then he looks at
Kahket directly and points at us. "As for you, sorceress...your appetites
are dangerous. They shall be your demise. You know not what you've invited
unto this place. Only that it makes your loose pussy sopping wet. I doubt
even a bull could make you feel anything."
Kahket rubs her hand, calling forth the same blue fire that Calisto
only a moment before held to her wrist. Then she extinguishes it. I know
she's just showing off. I know she wants everyone to see how she can steal
other's abilities and temporarily use them as her own. Kahket turns back to
Calisto. "Your insults are pathetic, dead one." Then her eyes linger on my
body, or more appropriately, my codpiece. "Still...a bull is easier to find
than you realize. I've had more boys than you, and I understand this makes
you jealous especially when the ones I fuck tend to live. I understand. But
I'm also beautiful and you dear knight...you long ago became hideous to
even the blind."
"Bitch," Calisto says. "If not for this meeting, I'd flay the skin
from your bones. And what makes you think that I like the boys whose
assholes I destroy...to live?"
"Enough pillow talk, honey," Kahket says. Then she turns to Talen
and I. "The time is at hand. You're about to witness something very
special."
She exits into a narrow hallway lined with flickering yellow
torches. The floor in front of us is polished mahogany and the walls are
made from expensive black marble. Veins resembling spilt milk spread in
patterns both chaotic and beautiful across the surface. I chase her shadow;
Talen and Angelaria follow quietly at my side. Angelaria leans heavily
against Talen for support, blood visible on her ankles that occasionally
peek out from her torn dress. She sobs loudly. I know she has many things
to cry about, but Verrr's the last thing of comfort that remained in her
life. I also know the physical pain she's going through. It doesn't look
like Mordred used lube when he took her from behind, and I doubt he
employed any delicacy. The pig probably tore her sphincter.
We're led to a door of polished wood, bound in strips of iron. The
handles are crafted to resemble devil's hands and these in turn are covered
in hammered gold.
Kahket clasps them in her hands and flings the doors wide.
Beyond these doors lies a council chamber.
The room is small, and the sorceress enters with arms raised in
triumph over her head. She's brazen in her nakedness, flaunting what beauty
she believes is hers to give. Never have I seen someone so proud to be
nude. Kahket unashamedly strides forth, legs spread as she walks, to let
the strange men see the glory of the womanhood that sits between her
legs. It's both ridiculous and bold at the same time.
On both sides of the door packed stone bleachers filled with rows of
gawking men, many of them bearded and old, suddenly quiet. They'd been
focused on an empty table with fourteen chairs. But now, all eyes are on
Kahket. Quite a few quaff from tankards, drizzling ale from the corners of
smacking lips. One man is so taken by her that he begins to whack off in
the stands.
The stone bleachers wrap most of the room. Because of Kahket, no one
notices either myself or Talen. Some whisper and point at Angelaria. I spy
one other door into this room. It lies on the far side beneath a wall of
narrow windows which are open to the night.
Lightning brief and thunder loud flickers and crashes outside those
windows, and it sets the mood for tonight's entertainment.
Purple and angry, the clouds of ash and steam boil with ever
increasing rage. The red blood of Tempest Mountain is reflected in the
night and seems brighter here, like plumes of mist catching sunlight as the
dawn breaks with first sunrise.
The only illumination inside the room shines from multiple (and very
expensive) golden candelabra.
The other door opens; it causes these flames to gutter slightly, and
I shuffle farther into the room behind the celebrant sorceress. Talen and
Angelaria are at my side. There is no chatter on the inside of my
helmet. No one says a thing. Our eyes watch the empty table at the center
of the floor with apprehension.
The table itself is a magnificent creation. It's made from expensive
woods and polished to a gleam. The entirety of it has an edge of teakwood
carefully inlaid with carvings of winding ivy, stalking animals, and
buzzing insects. The chairs are equally impeccable, their backs wrapped in
exorbitant vermillion silks and emblazoned with gold emboss. I'm amazed at
the grandeur and the silence.
I watch transfixed like everyone else.
The door slides open further, and an assembly of men enters. All of
them wear heavy muslin robes that carry the scent of mold with them. It's
pungent and sharp. Then abruptly I see him...Constantine...my trainer! As
proud and invincible as ever, the tall powerful assassin walks in, face
swathed in gray hair, eyes bowed, boots and armor gleaming and
polished. Across his back is his sword, at his belt several knives. I know
he carries more weapons concealed on his person. But the most dangerous
weapon by far is his body and his mind.
For a man almost thrice my age, he lacks excessive body fat. He's
pure sinew, bone, muscle...he's a hardened killer through and through. Why
did he pick me? I'll probably never know.
He scans the crowd, eyes both Talen and I briefly. He takes a seat at
the table, carefully folding his hands before him, reserved and settled,
watching the others. They take their places. As they look up, I see each
hides his face behind a mask of gold, silver, or bronze. I look to the
shadows and see figures I'd not noticed before. Other Nightshades are here
as well...not just Constantine. Their skill is such that they escaped my
eyes until I sought them out through the visor. They scowl at each other;
some thrum their fingers along the handles of their swords. Ah, so this is
how it is. They view one another as competition.
As strange as this may seem, Talen and I are probably the only two
here that would back each other up in a fight. Everyone else would be in it
only for themselves. That's what Tethyr wants to change.
Incredible, I think in the quiet of my mind.
I count four other Nightshades outside of Constantine. I scan the
crowd around us. Four students must also be there, and at last I spot
them. I'm surprised two are girls. How do I recognize them? Easy. They pay
no attention to Kahket. None at all. In fact, they only pay attention to
each other. They've probably already planned how each will take the other
out.
Such infighting in the church is destroying us, and that's only
assuming that these people actually believe. Something tells me, they're
here only because they have to be.
They control their focus well.
A murmur erupts from the crowd.
I feel a presence that reminds me of that daydream in the cave next
to the shore. The dream in which my fever finally broke the layer of Eros
addiction that threatened to drown me in layers of pain and delusion. It's
the dream in which I met the black wolf with yellow eyes for the first
time.
What I feel now is like that. It's the unearthly presence of God...an
immortal being that's as immense as creation itself.
A giant figure enters the room. Tethyr's completely transparent and
surrounded by a gray nimbus. He's the most beautiful man I've ever
seen. I'm at once smitten and shaken. I feel my heart inflate with feelings
of love for this unearthly face. I want to run to him, I want to fold my
arms around him, and I desire his flesh inside mine, penetrating me with
abandon, but only if it makes him happy. I would beg at his feet for a year
just to hear him say that I pleased him. It's impossible to describe
really, but I think it must be similar to how a caveman who has lived
underground for his entire life must feel when viewing the sun for the
first time.
I know that I'd end my life in an instant if He just gave the word.
I do love thee, a voice says in my helmet, but it doesn't belong to
Talen. I search the faces of my companions. Talen's posture tells me he's
also listening to the same thing.
"I love thee, my child, and thy brother Talen, and welcome thee with
my heart. Someday I shall take you to bed, perhaps both you and Talen at
the same time. Perhaps I shall rub my spilt seed into your skin, but not
today. I promise thee it shall come to pass as reward for thy service. At
this time though, I need thy and thy brother to bear witness to what is
fated to pass in this room and to not be confused by what is seen. As a
god, I am unable to affect the material world without physical flesh. All
of us gave up our bodies many thousands of years ago and agreed to
manipulate the world only through the actions of our followers. After what
occurs here today, the scale of power will shift, but it shall not be in my
direction."
I'm speechless, but I'm sure He understands.
The Godling strides to the front of the table and His powerful
presence fills the room like an overinflated balloon. I can feel His
thoughts, His emotions, His mind. I know in my soul that had He
wished...with but a simple whim, He could move a mountain, or bring the
dead back to life. He has about Him the presence of power infinite and His
understanding lie beyond my feeble mortal comprehension.
The thirteen around the table quake visibly.
They tremble as God watches them from only a few feet away.
I fall to my knees and Talen and Angelaria join me. Together we watch
Tethyr's every move, His every breath...knowing full well that we will stay
rooted to this spot and never take our eyes from Him even to eat food or
drink water. I want to beg to have His image seared forever into my mind.
The God turns to Kahket. "Come Lamia of Magic. It is Thy Time."
Lamia of magic? What is that? Does it refer to her ability to suck
magic from others?
Kahket trembles. "You know what I plan to do!"
"Yes," Tethyr replies. "As truly had thy used all of thine power and
abilities and those you stole from your betters to protect a single thought
from Mine would I with but an afterthought take from thee this thought and
leave thy mind a maddened husk. What thy plan is no secret but must come to
pass. Step forward and embrace thy destiny, child."
Kahket's face forms a sneer; she sways like a venomous cobra. Calisto
steps forward and hands her a jeweled box which she holds forth in front of
her like a prized trophy.
"Nay, but I did not detect my brother," Tethyr says with surprise.
"Come forth Zandine and slink no longer in the shadows!"
Then I see another being appear: this one wears a nimbus of deep
violet blazing around him like liquid fire. He's as beautiful as the first,
with perfect features and a face of deep calm. Zandine's long glossy black
hair is only matched by the finery of his masculine beard and mustache. A
god through and through, He's a marvel to behold. Towering ten feet tall
the same as his brother, Zandine is transparent as well. As Tethyr told me,
the gods have no flesh and Zandine is no exception.
"What is this?" Tethyr demands. "And a Duke of Hell? Ravidan
Scalebane. Flee from my presence foul and putrid host of Taleta, or I shalt
abjure thee and send thy body to the deepest pits of Hell!"
Ravidan shrinks from Tethyr who waits only a second more before
smiting him with a single word. The utterance of that word utterly destroys
the Duke of Hell, and he implodes in shrieks that leave a gaping hole in
the floor that burns with black malevolent flame. I suppose being a demon,
Ravidan doesn't qualify as being a part of the physical world since he
hails from another place.
I step forward cautiously, so as to distance myself by a few feet
from the crater where Ravidan once stood.
Kahket raises her voice. "Did you think it so easy that I wrest what
I want from the lips of Constantine as I bed him a hundred times in ten
years? That I wore face after face to milk his loins to cajole the
knowledge I needed from this Nightshade who grew to hate you? Did you think
it so easy that I whispered into his ear of how...as a god in the
sheets...he should also be worshiped as a god outside of them? It's you,
Tethyr, who are the foolish one. You lost your greatest warrior to my
gorgeous pussy."
"She lies!" Constantine yells. "I knew her for what she is. I sent
my apprentice in my place to fetch the Eye of Blood when she expected only
me. I knew she would try to set a trap for me in Ladika, but would never
expect my apprentice. It's the only chance I had to escape her sorcery even
if I could kill all her minions. I assure you Lord, the Eye of Blood is
safe with my pupil far from here."
Kahket laughs, producing the Eye of Blood from a pouch. "Your
apprentice is here today. Hunter is right beside me. And he brought me the
Eye of Blood. I'll fuck him too, just like I fucked you. Your betrayal is
complete."
Constantine stares at me in the armor, stunned at who I might be.
"Remove your helmet," he commands.
"No," I say.
"Did you bring the Eye of Blood here? Are you so stupid boy?! The Eye
of Blood is the key to a great artifact forged by Tethyr, but it's also a
vessel that contains the vitae of the most powerful evil dragon that ever
lived...a thing with five heads that possessed an army of men as deathless
as the dragons themselves. The Eye of Blood brokered the peace between the
children of men and the children of the queen of dragons. Sheila, Queen of
Dragons, declared that the Eye of Blood must not be allowed to make a god
whole on Wynwrayth or her anger would know no bounds. If what she says is
true, you've just destroyed that peace you fucking idiot!"
I swallow uncomfortably. "I-I uhh...I-I might have brought it. You
should have told me!"
Constantine wrings his hands and swears repeatedly under his breath.
Kahket cackles and then directs her rage at Tethyr who can do nothing
but listen. "It is I then who humbles a god, right? And now the trap is
complete, for I challenge Constantine in this place for having broken the
ancient Pact of Dragons! Constantine's penance shall be taken from his
soul by the Queen of the Dragons herself. A fitting end for a has-been
follower of a now weak and sniveling deity! The dragons shall declare war
upon the world of men, and thy followers will be persecuted for it. The war
shall claim many casualties, but it is the forces of Zandine who will
prosper. Today, I make my god whole. Perhaps we shall even conquer Mal
Ruen, home to Sheila herself, because a god of flesh and blood is
invincible!"
I decide to kill her and try to move, but I discover I'm frozen
somehow...frozen in place by some kind of magic. I look to the back of the
room and see men there where none stood before, chanting and calling forth
magic. They wear robes the same color as Zandine's nimbus.
Body quaking, Kahket raises the lid. "I make the elixir of life from
the Eye of Blood," she whispers. I see magic seep from her fingers and
drain the color from the stone. A single large blood droplet forms and
then falls into the box...the vitae of the dead dragon. "I mix it with the
bones of a god, and the blessings of a Duke of Hell," she says, shaking the
box. "I've fulfilled the conditions as were set by the gods on the Final
Day, and I present it to ye, Zandine, Lord of Illusion, so that ye shalt
live again and take me as thy bride!"
"Monstrous!" Constantine yells, exploding to his feet. Somehow, he's
the only one able to move in the magical field that holds us all in
thrall. The chair in which he sat is reduced to timbers, and I see a
wristband that glows white hot under the cuff of his armor.
Why didn't you act sooner? I ask to no one, but I want to ask
Constantine that question.
And then it finally hits me. Tethyr is absolutely right when he says
Constantine abandoned him long ago. The reason Constantine didn't act
sooner and attack Kahket before she could complete the ritual is because he
was looking for a way to flee. He's in this only for himself. Constantine
always cared only for Constantine.
If he put off airs otherwise, it was all a lie.
"You betrayed your own god!" Kahket laughs.
Just as I thought he would, Constantine heads for the door. Kahket
hurls a bolt of green fire at Constantine's chest. The room explodes with
burning plasma and Constantine, a broken man, slams into the stone wall.
Even with the visor protecting my eyes, I'm forced to shield them as best I
can. I also throw my body atop Talen and Angelaria who are thrown to the
ground by the powerful blast. The assembly of men at the table disappears
in the glow. I hear screams as well as the awful burning and popping sound
that bacon makes when it's on fire.
*****
Next week I shall post Chapter 32. Please check out my other writing
samples on my website (link at the top of this chapter).