Empire of the Worm

by Conner, Jack

  Which was what? What could they be doing to her? It obviously wasn’t sacrificing her; there were taking her the wrong direction for that. Which left . . . ?

  They took another door, and he paused there, then peered beyond cautiously. The General and his family had descended a flight of stairs and reached the landing, poised to look back at the doorway. Breath catching, Davril ducked back. Judging by the sounds of their footsteps and Alyssa’s muffled screams—one of her brothers must have clamped a hand across her mouth—they continued descending the stairs without seeing him. He took several deep breaths and continued after them, trying to make as little noise as possible on the stairs.

  The General reached the bottom and entered a subterranean level of the temple; Davril hadn’t even known the level existed. Building it must have been quite an undertaking, considering it was all below water level. Moisture beaded the walls, even floor, but it all looked sturdy enough.

  Davril’s quarry took one turn, then another, finally pausing before a thick stone door. The General pressed its face in certain key places—Davril watched closely—the door opened, and Hastus entered the room beyond. Selnon and Briat dragged Alyssa after. The door slammed closed.

  I really can’t believe I’m doing this, Davril thought as he crossed to the door and imitated what the General had done. Sure enough, the portal swung open, revealing darkness. Somewhere water lapped on stone walls. The General had lit a torch, but it couldn’t illuminate the whole of the room, which was sunken and flooded with water, deeper the further into the room one went. Most of the room lay in darkness.

  Hastus strode out into the water, torch thrust forward boldly. Selnon and Briat, more hesitant, hauled Alyssa behind. Selnon finally took his hands off her mouth.

  “Father!” she cried. “What’s the meaning of this? Whatever it is, stop! Please! I don’t understand.”

  Hastus spun about and slapped her, hard, across the face. With a gasp, she reeled backward, her brothers catching her.

  “Silence!” he said. “This is a holy rite, and you should show respect.” Turning about again, he said into the darkness, “We have come! Show yourself.”

  For a moment, there was nothing. Then, scales glimmering in the torchlight, a figure approached, and Alyssa let out a scream. Davril didn’t blame her. It was no mere Lerumite but a being that must be one of the Myr, all scales, claws, webbed fingers and crested head, a true creature of the sea. Hastus was upholding the ancient tradition, then. But why take Alyssa here?

  “We give her to you, fish-man,” Hastus said. “She’s yours to do with what you will.”

  “No, Father!” Alyssa said. “Please. There has to be another way.”

  The Myr drew back its lips, revealing rows of sharp, jagged teeth, at the same time emitting a hissing sound, obviously a warning. Alyssa paid no heed but said, “Father—Father—they’ll at least send me back afterward, right? Right? That’s the way it works?”

  “Silence,” he instructed, and she obeyed. Seeing her compliance, he said, “No. You’re to be given to them, not lent. For this one and any others to use you however they like, to get on you as much spawn as they can. They wish to increase their numbers, and I have pledged to help. Let the rest of the city think you’re under house arrest, but you’ll stay here for the rest of your—”

  He cut off as a wet, gasping noise rang out. While the General had been speaking, Davril had stolen forward and stabbed Briat in the back. The General’s son gasped and fell sideways, into the water, clutching at the wound. Selnon, slow to understand what was going on, released Alyssa and half drew his sword, turning, even as Davril slammed him over the head with his stolen staff, then drove his dagger into the other man’s abdomen.

  General Hastus bellowed and drew his sword. Davril knew he had no chance against him. Luckily Alyssa was already thrashing through the water toward the gaping door. Davril hurled Selnon into the General’s path, slowing him, and followed. The Myr slipped beneath the waters and was gone, but that was more unnerving than if he’d simply come after Davril in the open. In any case, Davril had reached the shallow water, grabbed Alyssa’s hand, and cleared the doorway.

  Hastus screamed behind him, and Davril pivoted, slamming the door directly in his face.

  Breathless, husband and wife looked at each other.

  “Davril,” she said, sounding shocked. Her face had gone completely white. “I—”

  “Do you know a way out of here?”

  “Of course not.”

  He nodded. “West is this way, where the shortest distance to the water is. Come!”

  They fled through the halls as fast as they could go, finding a set of stairs and taking it, at last, to a concealed doorway leading outside. Davril opened it, waited for a Lerumite patrol to pass, then took Alyssa’s hand and limp-scurried across the grounds to the water, where they slipped in as quietly as they could. The water shocked him with its coldness, but his blood was hot enough so it didn’t matter, and he wasted no time in swimming.

  Several times he and Alyssa had to dodge boat-mounted Lerumite patrols sweeping the riverways, forced to come up for air in stands of reeds and mud, but soon enough they were clear.

  Dragging his tired, aching body from the river, Davril tried to stand, but his leg failed him and he went down. Alyssa shoved her shoulder under his armpit, helping him up, and he took a moment to catch his breath and study their environs. They were in the swampy area at the source of the River, where so many tributaries came together and where springs bubbled up from the deep earth, while some of the water was stagnant and reeking.

  “I don’t think the priests’ boats saw us,” Davril said, smashing a mosquito.

  “I hope not.” Alyssa’s golden hair lay in muddy tangles on her skull and curled down her back. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but there was sadness in them. They moved from Davril to the twisted spires of the Temple.

  “We have to get away from that thing,” Davril said. “Your father will be after us soon.” He grimaced. “About your brothers . . .”

  “I took your son. You took my brothers. And for more reason. I still can’t believe they would blindly obey Father like that—can’t believe he would be willing to—” She shook her head. “I can’t think about it right now. Where are we going?”

  “The city may be in chaos, but it’s not overrun yet. I know a safe place.”

  Limping, freezing and covered in mud, he moved away from the water, she half-supporting him; he still had the staff of the Uulosan priest, however, having shoved it through the rear loop of his belt during the swim, and when he’d recovered a bit he propelled himself along with it. The city had succumbed to chaos, he hadn’t been wrong about that. People preached aloud in the city squares, spreading prophecies of doom to those who wanted to hear them. Others looted, some trying to raise money to buy a place on one of the outbound ships. Others abducted women and children. Still more went after the abductors. Already bodies hung from the lamp-posts, twisting in the winds. A few fools had started setting fires, and several bucket brigades had formed to quench them. Smoke was on the breeze, and not just from these fires, but from the White Quarter, as well, where the Aesinis had settled in. The screams of women, and men too, rolled across the city. Occasionally chariots clattered down the streets, the charioteers shouting warnings for people to get out of the way. Apparently they were on errands of urgency, though whether on their own behalf or the city’s Davril couldn’t tell. In all the confusion, he was able to liberate a silken robe for Alyssa. They were both still covered in mud and looked wretched. They fit right in.

  The General had established a curfew, and his soldiers tried to put people in their homes, but they were too few—most of them being on the city walls—and the people too predisposed to violence. The soldiers feared to use force to disburse the crowds, so the crowds remained. Davril and Alyssa stuck to the well-lit streets, but stayed in the shadows along the shop-fronts, out of the way of soldiers, charioteers and riders.
Some citizens had gathered on their balconies to hurl stones or refuse on the soldiers—or the charioteers—or the riders—all depending on whom the various people favored, and it was just as well to be out of the middle of the street.

  Several groups of Lerumites roamed the city, but no one interfered with them as they went about their grim business, and grim it was. Davril saw them sack a chapel to Tiat-sumat where many faithful were gathered; those the Lerumites didn’t slay they bound and gagged and transported back toward the direction of the Temple of Lerum, but not before destroying the chapel’s altar.

  “What can it mean?” Alyssa asked.

  “I don’t know,” Davril answered, “but it can’t be good.”

  They saw two more chapels sacked by Lerumites on their journey, and each time they stayed well away.

  Without transportation, and with both of them in such poor repair, it took the rest of the night and most of the next day for the royal pair to reach the Tower of Behara, and that only after Davril had stolen a mule to ride on. His bad leg was simply not going to allow him to complete the journey afoot. They did ultimately reach their destination, that massive, tiered structure that stretched halfway to the heavens, and they were starving and exhausted by the time they reached the summit, where an only moderately surprised Lady of Behara greeted them and furnished them with food and a place to rest.

  “We must talk,” she told Davril. “The Lerumites are attacking every church and chapel in the city, all except those of the Asqrites. Many are seeking shelter here.”

  “We know,” Davril said. “What’s more, I saw a group of what looked like church men being sacrificed in the Lerum Temple.”

  “Dear Behara!”

  “How many have gathered here?”

  “Hundreds. It’s the strongest bastion of the Light not part of the Asqrit faith, though why the Lerumites would forestall to attack the Asqrites I can’t fathom.”

  “I can. Listen. Call as many of the leaders of the dispossessed together as you can. We need to make plans.”

  While the Lady carried out his instructions, Davril let Alyssa prepare a foot bath for him, consenting to have her clean and wash his feet, then put salves on his aching leg. If nothing else, it was good to rest, and her warm fingers kneading his tight muscles felt soothing.

  “Davril,” she said, her voice soft. “I’m —”

  He traced her jaw with a finger. “I know.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I had no choice! It was either that or watch you all die right there. Father said if I helped subdue you he would just put you under arrest until the riots died down, and then— ”

  “I know.”

  For several hours, he slept, and when he woke dusk was falling. He ate some grapes and nuts, gathering his strength, and had a full glass of red wine; only then did he talk again to the Lady about gathering the high members of the Brotherhood for a council, and some members of the Church of Tiat-sumat and whatever other churches could be included, as well.

  “They’re on their way,” the Lady told him.

  Soon Davril, Alyssa, the Lady, ten men in blue robes, three in yellow and various others sat around a long white table, the setting sun visible through many arched windows; the Emperor’s shadow walks to the Jade Ziggurats, as they used to say. Davril wondered what they’d say in the future: the Worm slithers to the Gates, perhaps? At least the damned storm had ended. Davril supposed the Lerumites’ chanting had put it to sleep.

  “We need a plan,” he said, addressing the gathering. “The Enemy is here. Uulos. I saw his Black Altar being transported to the Temple of Lerum myself. The Lerumites have also taken possession of the Jewel of the Sun and have placed it on the altar of their temple—not the Black Altar, but the one already there—why, I don’t know. Anyway, I realize the besieging armies seem the greater threat, but they’re here solely because Uulos wills it so. He may not have returned in flesh yet, but He will in time. And He has many servants.”

  “What does it matter?” said one of the priests. “The city’s about to fall. We have only to wait for the Aesinis and Ctai and Ysagra to finish us off.”

  Davril matched the man’s gaze. “Uulos is here, and He must be dealt with. If you don’t believe He’s strong enough to throw back the barbarians at will, I do. He wouldn’t have come here if He wasn’t. For now, chaos suits His designs, whatever they are. But imagine how much easier it will be for Him to carve out a new rule for himself if He’s the one to save the city.”

  They glanced uneasily at each other.

  “Good,” he said, seizing the moment. “Let’s assume that I’m right for the moment, that that’s His intention. We must come up with a way to fight Him. The Jewel of the Sun—the ilisan, Father Elimhas called it—seems the most likely choice.”

  “Of course,” said one of the men in yellow. “It’s the unborn Son of Tiat-sumat. Ilisanali, the Little Sun.”

  “Nonsense,” said the Lady of Behara. “It’s the Eye of the Sky.”

  “But what does Uulos want it for?” Alyssa said, cutting through the sectarian bickering before it could disrupt the proceedings.

  “The High Priest of the Lerumites said Uulos meant to swallow it,” Davril said. “Can any here propose a reason why?”

  That stumped them for a few moments. Finally Father Trisdan, High Priest of Tiat-sumat, an ancient and vulture-like man, said, “Whatever else it is, whether the son of Tiat-sumat or not, the Jewel is a thing of power. If Uulos could somehow . . . take in that power . . . he would be mighty indeed.”

  “But,” said one of the others, “wouldn’t the Jewel kill Uulos if he devoured it? It’s deadly to him. The powers suffused within it are his antithesis, light to his darkness.”

  “Maybe that’s why the Lerumites placed it on their temple altar,” Davril suggested. “They’re trying to weaken it.”

  “Yes,” said a woman in yellow. “He fears it.”

  “He won’t fear it for long,” Father Trisdan said. “When he’s strong enough, and he returns in flesh, he will devour it, and will be unstoppable.”

  “How will he grow that strong?” Davril asked.

  Trisdan’s mouth quirked bitterly. “Sacrifices, my boy. Uulos must consume massive amounts of sacrifices, must harvest the souls of many, before he can cross over.”

  “How terrible,” Alyssa said.

  Davril tapped his chin. “So: the General and the Lerumites will make sacrifices to the Worm to make him strong enough, and then Uulos will return, at which time he’ll swallow the Jewel and become invincible. Good.”

  “Good?” Alyssa said.

  “Yes. It gives us time.”

  “Sacrilege,” said one of the priests.

  “Behara would welcome any weapon against the Deep One,” said another. “Even if it were a feast of human flesh and souls that would take some time to consume.”

  “Behara would welcome nothing, you fool; he doesn’t exist!” said of the priests of Tiat-sumat.

  An angry debate started, and Davril let it go on for a minute, then pounded the table—once. The priests instantly stopped their arguing and turned to him. When he saw he had their attention, he waited still another moment, solidifying his role as leader, then said, “It’s obvious we must steal the Jewel, when we’re ready. We’re not. We’re scattered, hunted, and weak. For now we must find some place to relocate to and gather our strength.”

  “Excuse me?” asked the Lady, offended. “This is the Temple of Behara. The Great God protects us.”

  Davril looked at her solemnly. “We’ve discussed this already, and the others here surely know; it’s why you’re all here: the Lerumites are destroying the churches of Tiat-sumat, Behara and any other sects of the Light they can find.”

  “We’re all painfully aware of that,” the Lady said. “That’s why everyone’s gathered here.”

  “Yes, but what you may not be aware of is that the Lerumites have been destroying the altars in every church and chapel they sack.”

  “No,”
gasped one the priests of Tiat-sumat. “But why?”

  “I have no idea, but perhaps you do.”

  “This could be an attempt to weaken Tiat-sumat, or the Light in general, if you prefer,” said Father Trisdan. “We must warn the Illyrians.” To the Lady, he said, “Yours might be next, Mira. In any event, Behara’s is a sect of the Light and this is its finest representative. You, Lady, are an enemy of Uulos, and his servants know it. What’s more, you’ve given shelter to many the Lerumites have targeted for the sacrificial block. Davril’s right; they will be coming for you.”

  The Lady and the priests of the Brotherhood shared tense, uneasy looks.

  “We must relocate,” Davril reiterated.

  “But how?” asked one. “We can’t leave the city. We’re under siege!”

  An angry clamor broke out, and Davril forced himself to appear calm, raised his hands in a placating gesture, and slowly the clamor faded.

  “There is a way,” he said quietly. “The Avestines.”

  “Ridiculous,” said a round-faced priest. “They disdain the followers of the Flame. And they hate you Husans.”

  “That’s just why no one will suspect them of aiding us.”

  “They’ll betray us! Besides, where would we go? Would we live with them in their ghettos? It’s absurd!”

  The priests were about to start clamoring and arguing again, but Davril made himself throw back his head and laugh. It worked, catching them off-guard.

  “Why do you laugh?” asked the Lady.

  Smiling (and feeling the strain in it), Davril said, “There’s still some advantage to being Emperor, it seems. I have intelligence the rest of you don’t. For many years my family’s spied on the Avestines, for obvious reasons; they’ve assassinated several Husan Emperors and have tried to assassinate still more. So we’ve kept our eyes on them, and one thing we’ve learned is that they have deep warrens underground. It’s where many of them live, and how they get from place to place throughout the city.”