Date: Wed, 5 Apr 2017 06:22:19 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 48-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

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				   *****

			    Chapter Forty-Eight

   Twelve Israfil of Zanda gathered around Kahket's huge belly,
chanting. Their hair was completely gone, replaced by black cloth crowns
that sparkled with star-like jewels; directly above their smooth brows
perched a goat's head, its black horns twisted to frame the Headdress of
Zandine.
   They had no noses, these women. In its place stood two slits in skin
gray as ash.
   A maw filled with white sharp teeth and long canines surrounded a black
oily tongue, and they had pale flesh, transparent and incandescent over the
belly, the otherworldly light emanating from a cyst of writhing worms
underneath the skin.
   The israfil wore a cape, their only other clothing. Leathery, shiny, and
black as dirty grease, there was a ribbed pattern to it, like the inside of
the throat, and great horns of bone depended from the feminine spaulders.
   Sweat swept down Kahket's turgid skin, and dripped upon the floor. She
sat in a black steel chair shaped like the claw of Zandine, her feet in
stirrups, and her hips spread apart to try and push out the deformed
monster...the child of Zandine...that even now ripped at the walls of her
cunt as it sought freedom. The skin of her stomach pushed up as its
tentacles writhed inside her wretched womb. Blood ran in rivulets into a
silver-lined channel that led from the birthing chamber over a cliff into
the smoke-filled Cauldron of Worlds.
   The lamia burned necromantic energy to keep her mortal flesh alive. Her
eyes blazed with crimson light, Dr. Vampyr hovered over her to provide
ministrations during her extended pregnancy, his spider-like hands holding
a scalpel by which he would sever the umbilical cord. Shadow demons circled
at the edge of her vision, and Headmaster Boritsi from the Lianon Pard
Academy of Necromancy appeared between two huge columns forged from metal
and made to look like spinal cords; they soared into the darkness above and
held up the dome over the Librarium Apocalypto. He stepped forward, and the
Israfil scattered. In his left hand he carried a hoop attached to three
chains. These dangled from iron collars binding the necks of three teenaged
girls who wept as he handed them over to the Israfil of Zanda.
   The israfil sniffed the girls and clicked and chattered among one
another in the language of demons. Kahket could feel the necromancy within
them. It would be enough to whet her appetite during the long birth.
   "I did not expect you to deliver them personally, headmaster," Kahket
said through gritted teeth. "Your diligence is noted. If you stay, you'll
see the Dragon King Typhon emerge into this world. He is only hours away
now, and my husband will wake from his dream reborn into the Goat of
Chaos."
   "I have the galactorrhea," Ivan Boritsi said. "All that remains is for
you to fulfill the bargain you made with the Gorgon. We need the soul of
the Crimson Guard, which our allies let slip through their fingers."
   Kahket paused to give her child another push. More blood fell down upon
the floor and the three girls in chains shrieked. Kahket smiled
bitterly. "I confess as to putting more faith in our allies. At least
Calisto came through with his end of the bargain. He has provided us with
the password to retrieve the Orb of Winter, and now he works to destroy the
influence of Skellhaundar Romax before the Council of the Night's
Daughter."
   "Aye, and the body of Ser Tragar Grimholdt lies on a table in my
office. I'll breathe life into his body once more as soon as I have magical
confirmation that the Valion knight is dead. But that leads us into a
sticky situation, Dreaded Irtemara, for you have done nothing to kill Ser
Ephram Skye."
   "What do you suggest, necromancer? I have my hands full at the moment,"
Kahket snapped.
   Headmaster Boritsi clapped his hands, and a man appeared that Kahket
previously had not noticed. He walked forward, covered from head to toe in
the most alien armor she had ever seen. It even looked stranger than that
worn by Hunter, whom she saw once in Thorn before she razed it to the
ground. But this creature, if he was a man, stood an easy six-foot-eight,
and the armor was packed with ridges that bespoke of muscle better fitted
for a gorilla than a human being. The whole of it was forged of black
corobidian metal, cables of it lay side by side and they flexed and
contracted with his movement, and it had highlights upon it that showed
chromatic in the light: it was simultaneously many colors and no color. He
wore the insignia of a chromatic rose, and on his chest was the upside down
holy symbol of the God of Thieves. His helmet resembled an insect's
complete with clicking mandibles.
   "What is this creature?" Kahket asked.
   "I...am Watcher," the man behind the helmet said, and his voice
resonated deep and sinister. It had an almost unearthly quality to it. He
walked slowly around Kahket, and his footfalls made no sound as if he
weighed but shadow and flame. "I kill for a price. There is no one better."
   Kahket's eyes narrowed and a chill came over her blood. "So you
say. What proof have you?"
   Everything in the room suddenly froze in time. The headmaster looked
like a statue, as did the girls in chains, caught forever in their
wailing. Then a blade appeared at her throat, a short thin one, and she
looked slightly to the right and saw Watcher standing there. Yet he was a
duplicate, as another stood directly to her left.
   "This is my proof," the Watcher on the left said. "I could slit your
throat right now." He walked over to one of the Israfil and with one punch,
slammed his fist through her face and out the back of her skull. A wet plop
of bone and blood splattered against the wall. He withdrew his fist, and
the body stood there, rigid, like a bug caught in amber. Kahket noticed
flies buzzing above her, their wings shimmered in the light, but they too
hovered unmoving. Dr. Vampyr sneered just to her right caught forever in a
single second of time.
   "How is this possible?" Kahket asked Watcher.
   The assassin waved and the Watcher on the right flickered and
disappeared.
   "I will kill this Valion knight...this Crimson Guard for you. I want one
million gold crowns delivered to a moneylender by the name of Nykyr in the
Bank of Zanda in Coral Cove by this time tomorrow. You promise to do this,
and I'll make your problem go away."
   "I have other problems too," Kahket said. "There's one called Hunter who
wields an ancient sword with legendary power: Bloodbane. He must die as
well."
   "I could kill him, yes, but there are restrictions to my powers,"
Watcher said. "I can't challenge true followers of Tethyr unless they
challenge me first. If Hunter is stupid enough to do so, I can kill him for
you. But if I know the priests of Tethyr, they haven't even told him I
exist. Perhaps they even lied to him and told him he was the first. You
cannot challenge what you do not know. I can do my best to draw him
out. Maybe I can hurt someone he cares for indirectly. However, I need your
permission first."
   The other Black Dragon Assassins? Kahket wondered. Who is Watcher?
   "Permission for what?" Kahket asked.
   "When I left Tethyr's worship a thousand years ago to embrace the
teachings of Thayne, goddess of death, Tethyr did all that he could to
limit the powers he invested in me. So my weakness is souls, beautiful and
complete. I cannot raise a weapon against a singular, undamaged, and
perfect soul devoted to Tethyr unless they attack me first. I may only take
action out of self-defense. I've found one way to antagonize them is to
destroy things they love. For example, a man is very passionate when his
house is on fire. But the fire could spread...it could burn down the
city. Rulers generally don't like it when their city burns," Watcher
said. "But I sense something different about you."
   "You have my permission to burn and kill anyone that gets in your way,"
Kahket said. "But if you cannot draw Hunter out, I have another plan for
him. Where can I find you should I require your services again?"
   "You can't," Watcher said, "But I may seek you out when my money gets
low. In the meantime, you may (as this necromancer did) pass a message to
the church of the goddess of death. I may answer it. After all, Nykor and
Zanda are allies in the destruction of the Valion kingdoms. Dreaded
Irtemara...remember that we have a deal. Do not be late with your
payment. I can stop time and create a duplicate of myself in time, but I
can also travel through time itself. The effort is great, but if I need to,
I will destroy you before you were even born. No one will know of your
existence. Do not cross me."
   Watcher's deep and resonating voice struck fear in her heart. Right
before her eyes, the assassin disappeared into the shadows and time once
more resumed. The israfil whom Watcher had killed fell down upon the
ground, blood spurting from the hole in her head. The girls in chains
screamed. Kahket looked at the Headmaster who glanced to the left and right
as if figuring out what just happened.
   "I assume you got to speak with him then?" Headmaster Boritsi asked in
clarification.
   "I did," she said, a trickle of sweat running down the side of her
face. "I hired Watcher. I've a feeling that soon, headmaster, the Gorgon
will get her soul, and I shall have a champion at my side. If that is all,
I bid you goodbye."
   Headmaster Boritsi bowed and then left Kahket, who clenched her teeth
and screamed into the Cauldron of Worlds, while pushing with all her might.

				   *****

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