by Jack Conner
And, as the blood sprayed, he drank it up. Even as the bodies flopped at his feet, he knelt over them ... and fed.
Disgust filled Avery. He wasn’t the only one, either. All around him, citizens of Cuithril looked dark and sullen. They glanced at Uthua, then away. Some wept. The majority, however, roared out their love and worship. Even as Uthua crouched among splintered bodies and ropes of intestine, tearing into them like some starved wolf, gulping down the still-warm remains of people he had slaughtered, blood spattering his face and chest, trickling over his fish-like lips, the crowd cheered. At last, gorged and covered in blood, Uthua rose to his feet, a bit unsteadily. Drunken.
More trapdoors opened. A new tide of mutants streamed out. These were not armed, and they did not appear to be ferals. By their clothes, their more sane demeanors and lack of tribal markings, Avery judged them to be citizens of the city—and by the looks of hate they cast at Muirblaag, he realized something else.
“Dissenters,” he said. “This must be what he does with those that don’t like his rule.”
The quiet citizens of the city, those that didn’t seem to appreciate the spectacle, turned even more ashen. Possibly the dissenters were their friends. If nothing else, they were their fellows in suffering.
The newcomers on the arena spread in a circle around Uthua. Some shook in fear. All looked pale and terrified. They knew they were going to their deaths. Nevertheless, they decided to make a go of it. Surprising Avery, they advanced on Uthua in a coordinated strike, howling as they came.
He didn’t toy with them.
Newly gorged, he changed. A dark, gelatinous form erupted from within him, superimposed over him, and expanded, filling up half the arena, a great black mountain fringed in tentacles and bristling with ungainly limbs. Thrusting pseudopods reared up and crushed attacking mutants, and dark tendrils wrapped around others, stinging them and killing them. Their screams filled the air, along with the otherworldly sounds and smells of the Mnuthra. The very fabric of reality seemed to bend and rip to accommodate him. The air blurred, and shapes that should appear solid were not. Strange lights flashed from the being’s interior.
And still the crowd cheered. Here at last was a god that did not need to be sacrificed to. He would take his own.
Not all seemed so enthusiastic, and Avery noticed one group nearby looking particularly furious. They’ll do. Hoping this wasn’t a mistake, he approached them.
“Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude. I’m not from here,” he said, trying to express an awed sort of concern, “and I was wondering, well—how long has the Great Lord been here? I didn’t know there was such a ruler in Cuithril, but ...” He gestured vaguely toward the arena.
“How long does a god need?” one young man said with a sneer.
Another said, more gently, “A couple of weeks.”
They studied Avery, and he tried not to appear suspicious-looking—whatever that might look like here. Keep your eyes steady. In picture shows, shifty eyes generally denoted a traitor. On the other hand, Avery was counting on these men’s dislike of Uthua to provide him with information, so he couldn’t appear too naïve, either. He settled for a belligerent indifference.
“I don’t know where you’re from, buddy,” one of the fellows said, “but you must have heard the Call.”
“Yeah,” said another. “Uthua’s priests have been sent all over the Halls. Every city in the Underworld’s been given the word.”
“Oh. Yes,” Avery said. “I’ve heard it, certainly. The Call.” He considered. Looking around, he made sure no one else was in earshot, then said, “Listen, maybe you can help me. I’m trying to enter Uthua’s temple.” He saw their eyes fix on him and added hastily, “To, uh, pay him homage personally. I was sent from my town to greet him on behalf of our people and to pledge our loyalty to him. So ... how can I get in?” He made his voice sound incredulous, but with a hint of hope. “Are there ... secret ways? I’d like to avoid the mob. If you know what I mean.”
“Not trying anything untoward, are you?” one youth said, then laughed bitterly. “Have at it. But the only way in is through those three bridges that connect to it.”
Another youth said, “And the only ones who can cross them, other than the Lord, are his priests and sacrifices. The nobles have been sending him prisoners as ... gifts. To appease him. They ruled here before, and they’re afraid he’ll move against them to solidify his power.”
“There’s no resistance?” Avery said.
Anger flashed in their eyes, and he saw impotent frustration there. “How can you fight a god?” one snapped.
“We were raised to worship the Fathers and their gods,” another said. “Now one has come to us. But it’s not like the priests said it would be. You can’t know, stranger, all the terrible things we’ve seen. And heard. The rituals, the rapes, the disappearances ... the screams from the Temple. They’ve built strange machines there—to awaken the altar, they say—”
“We shouldn’t be talking about this in public,” another said.
The first youth swore. Without a backward look, he and his mates slipped away. Layanna, Janx and Hildra approached Avery.
“What now?” Janx said.
Avery started to speak, but shouts interrupted him.
“There! There they are!”
The voice had come from a platform overhanging the one they were on. A half dozen robed priests occupied the edge.
The leader pointed a gnarled finger at Avery. “Get them!”
* * *
Instantly a space cleared around Avery and the others. The mutants nearby looked bewildered and frightened. A few, those who had been most vocal in their support of Uthua, stepped forward to obey the priests. One man raised a wrench that he’d been carrying in a utility belt, looking about him for support. Finding it, he closed in on Avery and the others at the head of a handful of zealots.
Janx grabbed Avery by the shoulder and propelled him on. “Go go go!” the whaler said. Avery moved, and the crowd parted. Some made halfhearted efforts to clutch at him, but either Janx or Hildra quickly put an end to such notions, and the zealots fell behind.
“This is ... bad,” Layanna panted beside him. “With the temple—”
Uthua rose before them, eyes murderous, blocking off their path. How had he gotten around them so fast?
“Oh, fuck me,” said Hildra.
Uthua did not smile or gloat. His all-black eyes, glistening like black pearls just ripped from an oyster, stared at Layanna with grim sobriety. “Welcome to Cuithril,” he said.
Her lips thinned. She said nothing. Her eyes stared glassily at the thing that had once been Muirblaag, her back hunched and legs slightly bent, as if poised to flee or attack. Avery thought she looked like a rabbit in a trap.
Desperate, he glanced over his shoulder only to see Uthua’s priests, some carrying unfamiliar weapons, some guns, closing in from behind, eclipsing the mob. With a leaden feeling of dread, Avery returned his attention to Uthua, his stomach becoming acidic. Spots flickered and streaked before his eyes. This is it, he thought. We’ve lost. Gods damn it all, we’ve lost.
The Mnuthra had eyes only for Layanna, and for a long moment the two Collossum just stared at each other; Avery could feel the tension thicken the air, turn it into a string and twang it, violently, a guitar cord about to break. The crowd murmured in thrilled gasps and whispers, wisely drawing back from the confrontation. Somewhere bats chattered, and water dripped from ancient stalactites. A vague wind stirred the air, rustling Layanna’s hair.
Uthua’s all-black eyes no longer looked warm, as they had when their former owner had possessed them. They looked cruel and cold and monstrous, and a malice so deep it was palpable played across the fish-man’s features. And when Uthua spoke, he did not speak in Muirblaag’s comradely tones, but in the voice of one who believed himself a god worth sacrificing countless lives to. How many had he killed over the years? Thousands? Millions? Gods, Avery thought, it could be millions.
Layanna still said nothing. Perhaps fear had closed her throat.
“Surrender and it will go easier on you,” Uthua went on. “Either way, I need those plans. And I need to know the location of the Black Sect.”
“Then come and get them,” she said, and, sure enough, Avery could hear the strain in her voice. She knows she can’t win.
Uthua stepped forward.
Avery’s stomach clenched and he felt the blood drain from his face. Trembling, he put himself between Uthua and Layanna.
“No,” he said. “No.” It’s all he could say.
He felt Layanna’s hands on his shoulders firmly but insistently pushing him away. He dug in his heels. He knew she could move him if she wanted, but he hoped she would honor him with the dignity of a brave last stand.
In his ear, she whispered, “This is my battle, Francis.”
“Your battle is mine.”
Uthua’s other-self exploded outward, huge and gelatinous.
A dark tentacle seized Avery and lifted him up. Immediately fire filled him—venom. Alien, extradimensional venom. He screamed. He knew nothing else but pain. The rest of the world receded.
He felt himself hurled away. Breath exploded from his lungs as he struck the ground and slid. His groping hands slowed him before he could vanish over the side of the platform and into the abyss.
Gasping, he looked up, and light dazzled him.
Layanna had released her amoeba-self—the reason Uthua had freed himself of Avery so suddenly. Pink-limned pseudopods squirmed and roiled, tiny purplish fringes wriggling and straining like anemone. Long, clear jellyfish-like tentacles thrust and curled. Encased in her otherworldly self, Layanna lifted off the ground and floated.
The Mnuthra rushed her across the deck.
Layanna met him with a crash that Avery felt through his hands and the soles of his feet. Whitish tentacles lashed at dark, gelatinous material, and ripped away great chunks. Dark pseudopods rose high and slammed down on pink-purple flesh. Dark veins of ink-like substance ran from the points of impact through Layanna’s other-self. Black veins spiderwebbed her amoeba sac, intersected red and orange organelles, and the organelles withered.
Layanna plunged her tentacles deep inside the Mnuthra. Avery could see the effort on her face as she spent her strength, stinging Uthua, filling him with venom, perhaps seeking out the material host, Muirblaag, so that she could destroy it.
Uthua surged around her. Avery had seen before that he was the greater, the more powerful of the two, and he had only gotten stronger. As he glommed forward, he began to devour her, to roll over and around her. She slowly disappeared inside him. Pain and fear showed in her face.
Breathing heavily, his shoulder aching where he’d struck the ground, Avery forced himself to his feet. He slipped around the huge bulk which rippled just inches before him, looking for a weapon, something long and sharp. Perhaps ...
Layanna was all but swallowed. He could only see her here and there, through momentary partings of Uthua’s flesh. She seemed to have fallen unconscious and was floating downwards, eyes closed. Her jellyfish-white sac boiled away around her, devoured by the Mnuthra.
Janx, who’d been knocked to the floor, shook his head and staggered to his feet, pulling Hildra up with him. Avery joined them.
Before they could organize some sort of attack on Uthua, the Mnuthra’s priests converged and surrounded them.
“Don’t move,” one said.
By then it was over, anyway. Uthua emerged from his other-self and stood over Layanna’s unconscious form, his chest heaving, steam from her body rising around him. Avery’s heart lurched at the sight of her lying still like that, open and vulnerable, and for a moment he thought his knees would give out. If Janx hadn’t grabbed him just then, they probably would have.
“Take her to the Temple,” Uthua told his priests. “To the place prepared for her. When she’s given us what we need, I’ll send for her to be returned here, and present her to the High One.” Obeying, a group of the priests lifted her up and carried her away. Uthua’s gaze fell on Avery, Janx and Hildra—lingering on Avery. “You,” he said, after a thoughtful moment. “I remember ... yes, the trident.” He gave a small smile, showing needle teeth wet with saliva.
Avery said nothing.
“I almost admire what you did,” Uthua said, black eyes sparkling. “For one so low to reach so high. Just the same, it is an effrontery on a grand scale—should a gnat destroy a star?—and must be punished.” To the priests, he said, “Put them with the other sac— ”
He broke off suddenly, his gaze turning in the direction of the sea Avery and the others had flown over, as if he’d become aware of something the others could not sense
“Great One!” shouted the high priest a moment later. “The Octunggen are arriving!”
With an inhuman bound, Uthua leapt back into the Arena and stood there expectantly. Muttering rose up from the packed masses, louder and louder. The high priest in the Arena weathered it for a few moments, then raised a finger and pointed. With his other hand, he placed the speaker to his lips and said, “THEY COME!”
The audience shifted and looked. Avery squinted.
A dozen black dirigibles cut through the airspace of the city, swerving in and out of the drooping stalactites and upthrusting spires. A stylized bolt of lightning adorned the envelope of each one.
Unable to help it, Avery doubled over, trying to suck in breaths that refused to come.
Janx clapped him on the shoulder. “Clutch your knees and stick your head between ‘em,” he said.
Shortly the spots faded. But when Avery looked up the dirigibles had neared the Arena and drifted to a stop. The priest called out, “WELCOME OUR FRIENDS FROM OCTUNG, WHO COME TO HONOR THE GREAT UTHUA.”
“I don’t believe it,” Hildra muttered. “I just don’t believe it.”
“Did they come through Ungraessot?” Janx wondered. “Or did they tear some hole in the ground?”
The dirigibles stopped at the edge of the Arena and threw down ropes. Priests tied them off and the dirigibles lowered. Ramps were thrown across, and Octunggen soldiers in crisp black uniforms disembarked. At their head was Admiral Jessryl Sheridan, late of the Ghenisan Navy. Her new Octunggen uniform clung to her as if she had been born to it, and her short auburn hair fell from her peaked black cap. So, Avery thought, she’s kept her appointment after all.
Despite everything, a terrible hope rose in him.
There might still be a chance for Ani.
* * *
The Octunggen led infected captives, perhaps captured ngvandi, down from the dirigibles and paraded them around the Arena. Only then did the high priest direct his underlings to chain the captives to the ground, connecting the chains to bolts sticking out of the Arena floor. The high priest said, “OUR GUESTS BRING GIFTS FOR THE MASTER.”
Some of the crowd applauded, some fell to their knees, but the majority made no move or sound. Many looked as ill as Avery felt.
Uthua waited.
Sheridan stepped away from the delegation of Octunggen and knelt before him. She spoke, but she was too far away for Avery to hear what she said, and the Mnuthra responded in kind. The exchange went on for several minutes, and at last Uthua nodded and stepped back. Sheridan returned to her group, then led the captives over. They appeared to have been drugged, as they stumbled when they walked.
Uthua accepted the offerings and nodded in an exaggerated show of gratitude to Sheridan. He turned his head and spoke to the high priest, who had been watching without expression.
The high priest informed the crowd, “THE GREAT MASTER HAS WONDROUS NEWS. ANOTHER GOD APPROACHES EVEN NOW. IT COMES FROM THE OVER-CITY, WHICH FLOATS ABOVE THE BATTELFIELDS OF THE WORLD. COMMANDING IT IS NONE OTHER THAN A LORD OF THE COLLOSSUM, AN ELDER BEING THAT EVEN THE GREAT UTHUA PAYS HOMAGE TO. THIS ANCIENT AND WISE COLLOSSUM WILL ARRIVE IN THE FLESH TO DELIVER PUNISHMENT
TO THE CAPTIVE AND REBELLIOUS GODDESS THE GREAT UTHUA HAS JUST CAPTURED. THIS WICKED GODDESS THREATENS THE VERY WEAVE OF THE COSMOS. OUR MASTER WILL EXTRACT CRITICAL INFORMATION FROM HER, AND THE ELDER SHALL JUDGE HER.”
The priest went on, but Avery hardly heard him.
“An Elder,” Avery said to Janx and Hildra. “Uthua must have told Sheridan about Layanna, and she called it in. Obviously Uthua’s been planning for this.”
“What was that he told his priests earlier?” Janx said. “‘Take her to the place prepared for her’? I didn’t like the sound of that.”
Avery nodded. “If Uthua gets that information out of her, it will all be over.”
“It might end sooner than that,” Hildra said. “If that Elder gets here first. Look.” She pointed to a group of nobles leading charges across one of the three equidistant bridges that connected to the Temple. Through the mists that swirled around the bridge, Avery saw priests at the Temple’s doors accepting the offerings, one at a time, after searching them thoroughly—very thoroughly. Perhaps they feared the nobles would try to sneak a bomb through and attempt to reclaim their city. Shortly another group of nobles appeared, leading more captives toward the Temple. The captives’ hands were all shackled.
“Trying to appease Uthua before it’s too late,” Avery said, understanding. “Before the Elder arrives.”
“Soon that’ll be us,” Hildra said, her eyes on the lines of sacrifices. Hildebrand chittered nervously.
Janx leaned in close. “Now’s the time,” he whispered. “While they’re distracted. We can escape. I think I see a way.”
“No,” Avery said. “We’re exactly where we need to be.”
Janx snorted. “How do you figure that, Doc?”
“Only priests and sacrifices are allowed into Uthua’s temple. We’re not priests, so that leaves sacrifices.” He paused, then leaned forward. “Do you still have your picks?”
