In his eyes, the jungle at night was lovelier, like a beautiful, mysterious woman. The dangers hidden by the dark made that woman only more thrilling. As he forayed deeper, Mendeln marveled that such imagery would occur to him. Yes, he was definitely no longer the frightened child he had been even after growing up.
The shape Mendeln had noticed had to be near, but now nothing he saw even remotely resembled it. Had it been, after all, his imagination or had whoever he had seen retreated once discovered?
A hand touched his shoulder.
He spun about…and found nobody behind him.
“Who are you?” Mendeln whispered.
The jungle remained steadfastly silent. Too silent, in fact, for a place where the calls of the daylight were often but a murmur compared to those beginning once the sun was gone. The jungle held more life in it than a thousand Serams, yet none of that was apparent now. From the smallest to the largest, the fauna was conspicuously absent.
But no sooner had Mendeln thought that when the leaves to his left rustled…and a form moving on two legs slipped by at the edge of his vision.
“Spare me your tricks and games!” he growled. “Show yourself or else!” Mendeln had no idea exactly what “or else” might be. In past circumstances of danger, he had suddenly spouted words in an ancient tongue he had never known, words of power that had saved him more than once. However, whether those words would protect him from the lurker, he was not so certain.
It moved again, this time to his right. Mendeln automatically spouted a word—and a brief, gray glow filled the immediate vicinity.
But what he saw was not at all what he expected.
“No…” Uldyssian’s brother rasped, refusing to accept what that momentary glow had revealed. “No…”
It had to be a delusion…or a trick, he thought. Yes, that made sense and hardened his resolve. Mendeln could think of only one being who would do such an obscene thing.
“Lilith…” And here he was alone, a fool overconfident in his feeble abilities. No doubt the demoness was readying the fatal blow. How would it come? Mendeln would perish in some monstrous manner, naturally, his death drawn out.
Oddly, death itself did not disturb him. It was the part just before that which Mendeln wished to avoid.
He would not show her any fear. If somehow he could use his demise to help or at least warn Uldyssian, then that was something. “Very well, Lilith. You have me. Come and do what you wish.”
Words formed on his tongue. His hopes rose slightly. He knew that the words’ power would give him some chance to at least stave off the inevitable…
Something whizzed past his ear. There was a grotesque, bestial howl, followed by a dull thunk, as if something had collided with one of the many trees.
Mendeln peered in the direction of the howl and saw something sinister standing against one of the thick trunks. When he saw that the thing did not move, he finally approached it.
It was a morlu…a morlu with an arrow through the throat just where the helmet and breastplate left only half an inch of space. Mendeln started to reach for the arrow, its presence stirring another nightmare—
The morlu lifted his head, the black pits staring at Mendeln. The warrior grasped for Uldyssian’s brother.
The same words that he had earlier used on one of these fiends in the house of Master Ethon spilled from Mendeln. As they did, the morlu’s grasping hands twitched wildly. A gurgle escaped the pale lips.
The morlu slumped again, only the arrow pinning him to the tree keeping the bestial figure from falling at Mendeln’s feet.
Without hesitation, Mendeln put a hand over the monstrous warrior’s chest. Other words, again first used in Partha, sprang easily from the lips of Uldyssian’s brother.
Most would have been unable to see the small, black cloud that rose from the morlu. It hovered over Mendeln’s palm. He stared at the foulness for a moment, then snapped shut his hand.
The cloud vanished.
“No more will you be raised to do evil.” Whatever darkness animated a morlu, gave it semblance of true life, would not be able to resurrect this particular corpse. Mendeln had made certain of that.
But there still remained whatever had initially rescued him from the Triune’s servant. Mendeln finally touched the arrow, noting with mild dismay that there was dirt all over the shaft. Just like the arrow that had slain one of the Peace Warders.
“It cannot be…he is dead…”
But life is only a robe which all wear but fleeting…
Though the thought flowed through his mind, Mendeln by no stretch of the imagination believed it his own. He had felt that other presence in his head before. It had always guided him, yet, now what it said only made Mendeln more anxious.
“No!” he growled at the darkness. “He is dead! To think otherwise is evil! He is buried! I was there! I chose the spot! I chose—”
He had chosen to bury the body very near an ancient structure bearing the same sort of markings as the stone near Seram. Mendeln gaped at his own naivety. Why did he think that he had chosen that very location? Something had urged him to do it and he had blithefully acquiesced.
Shaking his head, Mendeln backed up—
And collided with another form.
Uldyssian’s brother spun around…and stared into the pale, dirty face of Achilios.
Six
Astrogha was a demon of ambitions. He had sat near the taloned hand of Diablo, the greatest of the Prime Evils, and had learned well. It had always chafed him to be subservient to Lucion, but then Lucion had actually been the son of Mephisto so there had been little he could do about it.
But Lucion acted strange of late. In his persona of the Primus, the archdemon had always done things in a certain manner, but since his return from some mysterious foray, that had changed. Had Astrogha not known better, he would have sworn that it was no longer the son of Mephisto who sat upon the Primus’s throne. That was impossible, surely, for who could ever masquerade as Lucion?
The demon shifted in his shadowed web, located now in one of the high towers of the Triune’s supreme temple. Astrogha had chosen the one dedicated to Dialon, naturally, that being the spirit who was, in fact, his master, Diablo. Around the brooding demon crawled his “children,” sinister black spiders of every size, some as big as a man’s head.
Astrogha was a demon of many incarnations, many shapes. For this moment, he wore a form both arachnid and human, a macabre mix of the two. He now had eight limbs, broader and thicker than any spider, which could be used as arms or legs, depending on circumstance. All ended in clawed digits perfect for rending soft flesh, the better to stuff it into a maw with not only fangs, but jagged teeth that looked as if they had been filed. Astrogha’s torso was generally humanoid in design, but rounder and broader at the shoulder. He could make it otherwise, should the mood suit him.
Atop his head were eight more smaller limbs, each ending in human hands. They were good for dragging prey closer to his mouth and for plucking tiny vermin from his black-furred body for the occasional snack in between.
His eyes were crimson orbs clustered together, each lacking any pupil. With them, Astrogha saw in almost every direction and beyond the sight of most mortals or even demons. With them, in fact, he could see back somewhat into the Burning Hells, where he would now and then report to his lord and master.
Astrogha was overdue to give such a report. He did not like stirring Lord Diablo’s ire, for it would be a simple thing for the great demon to reach out from beyond to squash Astrogha like a bug.
The arachnid had hesitated to report because he was still trying to assess the change in Lucion. If Lucion was no longer fit to command, then someone would rightly have to step in and take his place…but that would prove difficult, considering Mephisto’s role in this. The other Prime Evil would not take kindly to his offspring’s role being usurped…unless the results of that proved most promising.
And so Astrogha was debating plots of his own. This
human, this Uldyssian, represented both tremendous potential and threat to the cause of the Burning Hell. Humans could become the weapon the demons needed to at last seize total victory from the sanctimonious angels, yet the tendency toward good in them might make them ally themselves with the High Heavens…until the piousness and rigidity of the winged warriors sickened their stomachs as much as it did the demons’.
Astrogha lifted the limp arm from which he had been sipping and drank what was left of the blood within it. The children hungrily scurried over the rest of the emaciated corpse, a young acolyte of the temple no one would miss. Lucion had always permitted him to take the occasional innocent, for did not a demon have to eat, too?
But as he drained the last, a sudden, intense fear overtook Astrogha. The demon flung away the arm, at the same time as the children were rushing for the deepest recesses of the corner—not that any shadow could conceal either him or them from the cause of their terror.
Barely audible voices filled the chamber. There was a frenetic tone to them that raised the bristled fur covering his grotesque body. Astrogha could sense their pleading, their hopelessness. Their torments were such that he, who had caused so much terror himself over the centuries, shook hard.
Then, eyes that could see beyond Sanctuary now beheld a huge form seemingly halfway between realities. At first, it flowed toward him like an inky shadow, but as he caught better sight of it, he made out faces both human and demonic and all in midscream. The faces constantly melted into one another and none were ever perfectly defined, but rather more as if out of a nightmare.
As the hideous specter neared, Astrogha then caught glimpses of a fiery red shape, huge fists with black talons, and a horrific countenance that was in part a rotting skull with blazing eyes that burned into the arachnid’s own. Monstrous, curled horns—like those of a ram’s gone amok—topped the thick-browed, scaled head. That shape vanished, to be replaced by a skeletal form in rusting armor and in whose arms it carried rotting organs covered in maggots. Then, that was without warning replaced by a reptilian beast with a maw like a huge frog and a tongue four times forked. The mouth looked wide enough to swallow a man…or an arachnid as big as one…
The reptilian visage slipped into and out of his eyesight, mixing constantly with the shrieking heads. Yet, at last there came a powerful voice, with each word sounding like the crunching of a spider’s tasty flesh. “Astrogha…Astrogha…I have awaited your word, you pathetic worm…”
The demon in the web took hope at the mildness of the summoner’s anger. “Forgive me…forgive me for my lateness, my lord Diablo…”
The murky form shifted, most of it fading into shadow. Even Astrogha never cared to see his master in all his terrible glory. Some demons had been driven mad by such an audience. Astrogha was stronger than most, but the one time he had been granted a full visualization—and that for only a few seconds—it had left him shivering for years.
“What of this little mud ball you call Sanctuary?” Diablo demanded without preamble. His voice touched every nerve in the spider’s body, each syllable like a thousand tortures. “I grow impatient for results from my nephew…”
There was the opening that Astrogha needed! “Great and glorious Diablo, whose very name sends nightmares to the angels, this one has at all turns your desires followed as best can be done! Ever have I offered noble Lucion my word, my advice, but he listens not! True, the son of Mephisto has so many pressures upon him! It is so hard for him to direct all, to constantly plan alone…”
There was a harsh grating laugh that made Astrogha wish that he had ears to cover. Even then, though, that would not have kept the laugh from causing him to quake.
“The little bug has notions of his own on how the worms of this mud ball should be persuaded to our just cause? Notions my nephew would not hear?”
“Yes…they have gone unspoken. It is…difficult for this one or any other to understand what noble Lucion thinks and so offer advice to him. His planning grows erratic. He sets a trap for the leader of these mortals, then leaves myself and Gulag—who is but a stinking puddle now—to fend for ourselves against might both angelic and demonic…”
“So powerful…” Diablo’s tone left no doubt as to his interest. The destruction of his brother Baal’s minion was of no significance save that it gave some credence to the belief that the humans would prove very useful soldiers.
“This one would have continued the struggle—Astrogha fears only his master—but Lucion then cast me out and sealed from my view his confrontation with this Uldyssian!”
“And the mortal is not ours even then?”
“Nay! He even just this last eve as Sanctuary counts time ravaged another temple! Yet Lucion not only seems not to care, but this one has not seen him of late…a second inexplicable absence! Our mortal servants are left to their own minds—no good thing coming of that—and this one must sit and wait and sit and wait, when there is much that could be done!”
He expected Diablo to comment, but only silence met the arachnid. That silence stretched longer and longer and the more it did, the more anxious Astrogha became.
At last…
“You have something in mind, little bug?”
“Yes, my lord Diablo…if this one may be permitted to act freely…and possibly beyond what the noble Lucion would prefer.”
There was another silence.
“Tell me, crawler in the shadows, tell me, my Astrogha…”
And, with barely concealed glee, the arachnid did just that.
Mendeln was unusually silent even for him, enough so that Uldyssian noticed. He glanced at his brother as they trudged through the jungle, noting how Mendeln kept his gaze fixed directly ahead. It was as if he feared that he might see something undesired if he looked anywhere else.
Unfortunately, there was too much troubling Uldyssian’s own mind for him to continue to concentrate on Mendeln. It only partially had to do with the dangers ahead. There was also the incident with Serenthia.
She had been open to his advance, that much had been obvious, and he realized more and more that he wanted to pursue the matter. Yet, that meant trampling on the memory of his best friend…
With a grunt, Uldyssian tried to dismiss the subject from his mind yet again. There were too many threats merely from the land around them, much less the Triune, to become so distracted. Constantly, he probed ahead, seeking anything that might endanger the others. More than once, Uldyssian had mentally fended off predators. He had also sent several poisonous snakes and one huge constrictor slithering in other directions. It was a constant task; the jungle held so much potential danger that he could scarcely believe it.
At times, the trail turned as dark as night. Footing often proved tricky even for Uldyssian, who was better able to detect the shifting ground. Despite his own powers, he found he had to also rely on a pair of Torajians, Saron and Tomo. They were cousins, Saron the elder by five years, and had ventured farther in this direction than any of their fellows. They were nearly as skilled hunters in their environment as Achilios had been in his and were chief among those securing food for the rest.
“Watch for the jagged leaf of the tyrocol bush, Master Uldyssian,” Saron told him, pointing to the thick, reddish plant to their left. “To cut yourself on them is to invite its strong poison…” To emphasize that fact, the elder cousin used a spear to lift the lower leaves. The rotting corpse of a small, furred creature lay underneath. Tiny, crimson lizards who had been snacking on the remains darted for the safety of the underbrush.
“Kataka,” Tomo offered. “They resist the poison, but it fills their skin. They can eat the tyrocol’s victims and are poisonous to others because of what they ingest.”
Uldyssian had sensed some threat, but discovering that it was a plant he had to avoid and not some creature made him vow to double his efforts. He believed that he could reject the bush’s poison, but what about those not yet coming into their powers?
“Let all know of the tyrocol,”
he commanded Romus and several others. It was not the first such pronouncement that Uldyssian had made and he knew that it would not be the last. It seemed that everything in the jungles had some hidden—and ofttimes malevolent—aspect to it.
Their intended destination remained the smaller city of Hashir. As they marched along, they kept a special eye out for any trace of the Triune’s servants. Uldyssian was certain that the three assassins had not been the only ones left. In fact, he somehow felt that the Triune had some part to play in Mendeln’s behavior, but trusted that, if it was necessary, his brother would certainly let him know the truth.
Certainly…
“You seem so lost in thought.”
Uldyssian glanced to his side, startled by Serenthia’s sudden nearness. That he had not noticed spoke volumes concerning the state of his mind. “I have to keep all of them safe and there’s so much here in the jungle compared to home.”
“Yes, Seram seems so peaceful in comparison.” She frowned. “Or at least, it used to be.”
That stirred up his guilt again. “Serenthia…about Cyrus and what—”
“Go no further, Uldyssian. What happened was not your fault. You were hardly aware of the powers within you, much less how to control them.”
Her attempt to placate him did nothing to help Uldyssian. Nevertheless, he nodded gratefully.
“Nor do I blame you for Achilios,” the woman went on, her glittering eyes snaring his. “Achilios was a good man, but independent. He chose to do what he did. He wouldn’t blame you any more than I.”
“Serenthia—”
Her hand slipped over to his, touching the back so very softly. “Please don’t worry about me so much, especially where Achilios is concerned. I mourn him as a lost friend…but perhaps not the lover I thought he was.”
This admission nearly caused him to stumble in his tracks. “What are you saying? The two of you—”
“Uldyssian, Achilios always cared for me, but you know I”—she glanced away for a moment, her cheeks red from other than the heat—“had other feelings. When I thought that there was no more hope…I think I turned to him for comfort…for…I feel so guilty…”
The Sin War Box Set: Birthright, Scales of the Serpent, and The Veiled Prophet Page 39
