Embrace of the Medusi (The Overlords Trilogy Book 2)

by Toby Andersen

  He had wondered before if something so inhuman was capable of love. It’s a kind of love, he supposed, but he was a bad judge of human emotional connection, having never got much from his absent parents.

  Anthrom was watching when she had Thaddeus brought before her by her adult Cephean guard. The hapless former Captain of the Imperial Guard was thrown down at her feet.

  He lasted no longer than the rebels, but to his credit refused to be her slave when she gave him the choice she enjoyed giving her victims. He roared defiantly that he would never serve another Empress, as the new one crushed his skull to a pulp with a click of her fingers.

  I am not happy with these accommodations, she sent loudly to Harling. Killing traitors just feet from where my Cephean make their nest is not good enough. It scares the children.

  Anthrom had not noted the children scared as such, they looked beyond such concerns, blinking slowly as Thaddeus toppled to the ground. Stop killing people in front of them then, he thought.

  Considering everything, he’d decided it would be in his best interest to court and obey this creature. Those who did, like the acolytes, Clerics and Cepheans were treated well, lavished with reward and power. And he’d been struck with a perfect idea.

  He struggled out of the tunnel and circled back around to the throne room via the main entrance. He knocked loudly.

  Harling opened the doors and upon finding Anthrom, looked at him in disdain.

  Admit him, he felt the Medousa say.

  Harling backed away and Anthrom strode up the aisle and stopped before the steps. Noctiluca sat in all her glory, looking every inch the Queen of Darkness, the Medusi glowing bright above. The edges of her upper jaw where muscles still functioned tightened in a rictus.

  She was smiling.

  You have embraced your situation I see, she said, coming to me without summons. To what do I owe this visit?

  ‘I have something to show you.’

  *

  Anthrom led the Medousa, High Cleric Harling, and three hand-picked Clerics through a large palace corridor, and stopped at a blank stone wall. He pushed at one of the seamless stones and the wall slowly rotated inwards to make an archway. It was small and would have trouble accommodating the huge Medusi that floated behind Noctiluca.

  This had better be worth it, she sent, but with a knowing scowl.

  It was a squeeze, but the Medusi was able to pass through, its bulk brushing the walls on both sides at once. Down a short spiral staircase and then a large double set of oak doors. Thinking logistically, Anthrom wondered how the architects had got them down here. When Noctiluca and her Medusi had negotiated the staircase, the room was bright with her otherworldly light. Anthrom opened the doors to reveal the underground throne room he’d been using himself until just a few weeks before.

  Thaddeus and Verismuss had known about it, but they’d only held onto the palace for half a day before the Order came. A large chamber of shiny black stone, it had pillars that delineated a central aisle, leading to the throne. Anthrom took the only lit torch, and led Noctiluca slowly down the central concourse, igniting more torches on each pillar as he went.

  Soon the darkness was banished.

  Noctiluca sat herself on the throne of obsidian, the Medusi coming to rest above her. The high ceiling accommodated it perfectly. Blue light glinted off the shiny black walls.

  This is so much better, she sent, no direct sunlight. She saw the side rooms. And these could become nests and chambers for my most favoured.

  ‘It was built by my ancestors,’ Anthrom said.

  I did not know something like this still existed.

  Anthrom was pleased; however hard to read she was, he seemed to have made a good impression.

  Harling, she commanded, send for my Cepheans and install them in a side chamber. Have the doors expanded throughout so that I may move freely. Also fetch what we discussed. It is time.

  ‘Yes, Goddess.’ Harling bowed low and then scuttled from the chambers back up to the palace.

  Noctiluca’s chest was a compact ribcage, wrapped in a thin layer of grey desiccated skin. She had no breasts to speak of. Anthrom could see she still took breath though. She needed air. She wasn’t dead.

  She turned a hooked face at him, devoid of expression, her upper jaw like a hawk’s beak. A little bird has informed me that your sister has fled to Argentor. Why didn’t you tell me?

  ‘I did not know,’ Anthrom answered honestly. Her voice was loud in his head and there seemed little point in lying. ‘This is the first I have heard of her fate since the city fell, though I assumed she escaped.’

  Noctiluca didn’t press. It had been a mere test. She is trying to forge an army there to face me. We have consolidated Theris, Anthrom, and now it is time to let the world know the time of my ascension is at hand. I must destroy those who oppose my rule. Argentor is conveniently the home of my next target. The Premiers.

  He hadn’t really examined it before, but the Premiers were the natural antithesis to the Order, their doctrines almost diametrically opposed. He joined in.

  ‘They preach that to be thralled is a disgrace against nature.’ In hindsight that might have been a step too far.

  And what then, would they think of me, Anthrom?

  ‘They would think you an abomination to end all abominations.’

  He felt the chuckle in his mind. I like that, she sent, maybe a new title to add to the list. The Premiers were founded in response to the founding of the Order. Two opposing schisms of the older pagan Medology. They wanted to counter my influence, as thralling suddenly grew in popularity.

  ‘You were there?’

  I was, more than four hundred years ago. It’s about time I destroyed their worthless citadel and proved them wrong. She leant in. Tell me about your sister Aurelia. What makes her tick, what does she respond to?

  Anthrom wasn’t sure what to say. ‘She is arrogant and patronising,’ he tried, because she surely was. ‘She wished to be loved by her people, but they didn’t care. She belittles, and thinks she is better than everyone else.’

  Does she have any good qualities? Noctiluca asked.

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s no secret we didn’t get along. My estimation of her is possibly biased.’

  Try.

  He couldn’t disobey if he’d wanted to. Anthrom thought for a moment. ‘She is loyal despite her faults. She never sold me out even when she could have. She probably will not give up on Theris until she’s dead.’ It hurt to admit she had any good traits.

  Family is important to her, Noctiluca surmised. Did you observe her respond better to reason or threats? Or violence?

  ‘She thinks she responds to reason, but she doesn’t listen to others. She’s just lying to herself. I provoked her when I tried to kill Cassandra.’

  She nodded languorously. Do you think she’ll succeed?

  ‘In what? She can’t possibly win.’

  No. In convincing people to fight for her? Creating an army?

  Anthrom had trouble separating the Empress from the person when it came to his sister. ‘Aurelia is no longer an Empress,’ he said. ‘But I think she will still be able to convince, and sway others to her cause. However much I dislike her, she is compelling.’

  Noctiluca seemed satisfied, as she changed her focus. During the siege, you worked against her. It was a statement, and he nodded. His nose had begun to bleed, but Noctiluca paid no mind to his comfort this time. You worked for the benefit of the Order, even if you didn’t know it. Why did you oppose your sister?

  ‘I thought I was working for myself. I used Thaddeus to gain secret war council information. I used Stauros, as he was the likely winner of the siege.’

  Unfortunate news, Stauros death. He was a useful idiot. But I would have had to cut his ambition short eventually.

  ‘He was killed.’

  Yes, by the young boy who escaped. He helped your sister. She leaned back and scratched her maw-like neck cavity with a hooked claw. You haven’t answered m
e. Why did you, Anthrom, oppose her? Don’t make me ask a question twice.

  Anthrom swallowed. ‘Emperor Tiber intended that I take the throne when he passed, but instead Aurelia usurped that throne.’

  She was older, more experienced than you.

  ‘She is an opportunist. The succession should have been as father decreed. Instead it was stolen from me. I deserved the throne.’

  She locked him with her ancient eyes. Do you deserve the throne now, Anthrom?

  ‘It is yours, Noctiluca.’

  But you still desire power.

  ‘Yes.’

  You worked hard to undermine Aurelia. You even blooded an Iminguis if my sources are correct.

  Anthrom thought back to that disgusting blood-sucking Medusi that had carried messages between its two imprinted hosts, Anthrom and Stauros. He wondered where it was now. Probably died when Stauros did. ‘They are.’

  You clearly have what it takes. You just have not yet had the opportunity. Noctiluca stood, her shimmering black robe pooling like water on the stone steps. She descended until she stood before him, took his chin in her long cold fingers. Together we will deal with the Premiers and your sister in one fell swoop. We will destroy Argentor, Anthrom. You have demonstrated you understand the new balance in the world, you have brought me this wonderful secret chamber, and I want to reward you.

  Anthrom couldn’t believe his luck. He was going to be given something amazing and all he’d needed to do was show her an old room. It was like he’d suspected. Find a need and exploit it. He just hadn’t expected it to pay dividends so soon. He thought back to all his setbacks and regretted nothing. It had brought him here.

  But I can't. She was only a foot away and her voice was like a soft caress inside his mind, a mother’s touch. Not until I know how far you are willing to go. I need to know the depths of your loyalty to me. I need to know your resolve, your greed, your desire.

  ‘Anything,’ he said. Her voice was like a spell falling over him.

  She smiled, and Anthrom felt himself fall headfirst into the maw of teeth and ragged flesh that remained of her jaw. Headfirst into oblivion.

  He hardly heard the oak doors boom open and High Cleric Harling return.

  He only dimly registered the presence of a second figure dragged behind the Cleric into the dark chamber.

  Only when he swam back through the darkness that had enveloped him, clawed his way back towards the light, did his senses return. Was that how the Cepheans felt when they looked so peaceful? he thought.

  Noctiluca was waiting patiently, silently, for him to return to them. Harling stood patiently to the side.

  Anthrom glanced to the newcomer; a tall man bent and broken, bound and gagged with coarse rope, he had been beaten severely, and his skin was raw and enflamed. Though his face was swollen and discoloured, Anthrom could still recognise his mentor and advisor, the man who had encouraged his betrayals and hoped also to overthrow Aurelia.

  Grand Premier Verismuss.

  He was no longer grand. His vestments were ripped and bloody, his robe a lopsided mess of soiled cloth, hiding a clearly broken shoulder. He looked like a beggar that a group of lowlifes had taken offence to and beaten to a pulp.

  Verismuss also seemed to swim up from some waking nightmare, his bloodshot eyes recognising Anthrom, though he hardly reacted.

  Noctiluca swept from Anthrom’s side towards Verismuss, making the flames flicker and the shadows dance as she moved. The ominous atmosphere in that underground throne room was palpable. Grand Premier Verismuss, highest of all the Premiers. He’s your equal and opposite, Harling.

  ‘He is no equal of mine, my Queen,’ said Harling.

  Maybe not. She turned to Anthrom. I understand you worked closely with Verismuss here during the siege. That the two of you sought to topple Aurelia. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. At least for a while.

  ‘I did not intend to aid the Order,’ said Verismuss. His voice was a broken rasp through torn lips. ‘I would have rather died.’

  Defiant still. I would have thought weeks of torture would have taught you your place.

  ‘My place is opposing the likes of you.’ Verismuss breathed heavily, like he was fighting hard even to speak those simple words. Anthrom guessed his lungs were perforated.

  Noctiluca turned to face him. Now, Anthrom. I want you to decide what to do with Verismuss here. There are limited options. You could show compassion, decide to let him go, but that leaves the possibility that he travels to Argentor ahead of us, and warns his Premiers, or his former Empress. He demonstrates his resolve even now.

  Anthrom and Verismuss caught each other’s eye again. His defiance was clearly meant to make this easier, possibly even to provoke Noctiluca into doing something rash.

  Because Anthrom was more than aware what kind of decision he was being asked to make. He didn’t need to hear the other options. He knew what kind of danger he was suddenly in. If he chose compassion, he was going to die here along with Verismuss. He’d be demonstrating he was weak, or that he sympathised with her enemies, either of which would spell the end. It was a test, and one he had no choice but to pass.

  There was only one right choice and Verismuss knew the alternative. Either he died or Anthrom did. His eyes told Anthrom to make the choice.

  I understand he betrayed you towards the end. That Thaddeus Vestrigo and Verismuss just wanted you as a figurehead for a government they controlled. He was happy enough to take your help in ousting Aurelia, but betrayed you when it suited him. This is no different. Finally she said what he’d known already. The other option is death.

  Verismuss’ eyes told him what to do.

  Anthrom opened his mouth, but Noctiluca spoke again, obliterating his thoughts. You must know one last thing. Whichever option you choose, you must be the one to deliver the verdict.

  Anthrom was being forced to choose between his old influencer, and a new one infinitely worse. But it was no choice at all. In one hand, he held death for both of them – Noctiluca wouldn’t let either leave this chamber. In the other, his own life continued.

  You want to be very careful what you wish for, she said ominously, you might actually get it. This is power, Anthrom. The power over life and death.

  Harling placed a sharp ceremonial dagger in Anthrom’s hands, forcing his shaking fingers shut around the handle. The High Cleric kicked Verismuss in the back of the legs, knocking him to his knees. He wrenched back the bruised man’s head by his hair and bared his neck.

  ‘I can’t,’ Anthrom whimpered despite everything. The choice, the spell, the judgement.

  You can, Noctiluca said. He felt it like a hot poker in his temples. She was inside his head, and she would destroy him the moment he failed.

  Anthrom looked at her, his eyes pleading with her not to force him to do this. But he was trapped.

  You killed by accident before, Anthrom. A pathetic maid. You failed to kill your sister. Now make it count. Kill for me, kill with intent, and we shall know you are ready for real power.

  Verismuss set his mouth and clenched his eyes shut.

  Anthrom screamed and ripped the knife across Verismuss’ throat. His mentor’s blood poured over his hands and he dropped the knife, heard it clatter to the floor to rest in the growing pool.

  With a force strong enough to send him to his knees, his mind was his own again.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Totelun

  Many long days had passed and the edge of the forest continued to be far out of reach, as if it was deliberately eluding them. Totelun was constantly impressed by Cassandra’s ability to keep up with him, even though she had rarely left the palace. When he found after two days that her feet were covered in blisters and sores he blamed himself. She would not complain, but he was the one who was setting such a punishing pace.

  From one of the gentler woven blankets Totelun crafted her soft socks to fill out the ill-fitting boots; these he later discovered she had prized from the feet of a corpse. He w
as impressed again, if a little sickened. She was nothing if not independent, and stubbornly so.

  In places the canopy thinned and Totelun could see snatches of his Floating Island home far above. The Islands never kept to a rigid pattern but each day they looked a little closer together and a little closer to the other landmark that dominated the horizon, Cartracia. Cassandra helped him estimate the distance from the closest Island to the mountain each morning, so they could calculate how long they had to complete their journey. The Islands moved quickly, but Cassandra assured him they were still far into Terracon territory, and not even hanging over the Theris basin yet.

  [I learned numbers from my tutor,] she wrote. The marking for her tutor’s name was the same as ever, but without the verbal version, Totelun would probably never know how it was pronounced. [The same one who taught me Gathralt.]

  Totelun marvelled at the knowledge the man must have had. [A wise man.]

  [He taught us history, languages, etiquette, mythology and legends, court politics, numbers and writing.] Cassandra bent down and picked a new type of berry she hadn’t seen before and showed it to Totelun.

  He shook his head. [That one will cause boils all over your body,] then on a new line, [How could one man know so much?]

  [He had books.] She threw it away with an eye roll.

  Totelun didn’t know the word, or how it was said, but he could re-use the characters. [Books?] When she looked at him, he shrugged.

  She laughed silently. Totelun was suddenly struck by a fleeting sadness. Will I never hear her voice? He was getting to know this beautiful princess, but it touched him somewhere inside that he would never hear her laugh or cry. She might have had a voice to match her beauty and he would never hear it. [You don’t know what books are?] she wrote.

  Totelun smiled, willing to let her have this. [Should I?]

  [No wonder you think he knew so much. I just can’t believe you don’t know what books are.]

  [What are they?]

  [Just going through your whole life without knowing books. That seems both incredible and sad to me.]