Serpent Kings Saga (Omnibus Edition)

by James Somers

  “A very few of the hundreds of rebels coming across the battlefield stood with their weapons, firing on Moloch. Their bullets only ricocheted off of his black scales, angering him even more. The rest of their men were trying to flee. Moloch unleashed streams of orange liquid upon them—acid from glands inside his jaw, I’m told. The rebel’s gurgling screams—I’ll never be able to forget that. Their flesh began melting off of their bones almost as soon as that caustic spray swept over them. They looked like wax figures melting in the sun. None of them escaped. By the time Moloch had destroyed all of the villages of those men, there was no one left alive anywhere in that area.”

  An awkward silence fell between them, sitting there on the bed with only Jillian’s sheets covering them.

  Finally Varen shut his eyes and spoke. “And you fear this will be our fate if we choose to fight them?”

  Jillian considered only a moment before replying. “Varen, I’ve spent most of my life serving the dragons. It has not been a difficult life. I thought that I had anything and everything I could need or want until I met you…fell in love with you.” Another tear escaped her eyes. “I only know that I do not want to lose what we have together. I love you and would die fighting for you, but I know I could not bear to lose you. And, yes, I very much fear that this is precisely what will happen if we continue to invoke the wrath of the dragons.”

  “What would you have me to do, Jillian, abandon my people?” Varen asked.

  “Yes, so that you and I can leave this place forever,” she said. “Surely we are resourceful enough to find our own way and leave the kingdom completely.”

  Varen’s face hardened. “You know I cannot do that.”

  Jillian sighed and kissed him. “I know you will not.” She fell back onto the bed. “And still I love you.”

  Varen smiled at her. “Yes and if I must die at least I may die knowing that.”

  FELONIUS

  Another half day’s travel had delivered me and Agnes at Tarris, the patron city of the dragon god, Moloch. I had never had the opportunity to visit Tarris and seeing it didn’t leave me feeling cheated. One of the first things I noticed was the smoke rising from many of its structures and the unpleasant smell of things burning, being refined and made into other things.

  Tarris was the city of craftsmen, forges, textile mills and many other trades that provided goods and services throughout the kingdom. Truly, it was an ugly city, at least when I compared it to my home in Babale. Looking upon it now, as Agnes led the way through its crowded thoroughfares, I began to see how black market trade and the activity of criminals could flourish in such a place.

  I began to feel like I’d never really been anywhere at all. And, truth be told, I hadn’t. Babale and its nearby farmlands had been the extent of my worldly travels, while older more experienced members of the High Guard, like Agnes, had been to the far reaches of the kingdom many times.

  Seeing similar uniforms, I quickly identified the presence of High Guard wraith dancers patrolling here and there among the people. My instinct to wave was overruled by the covert nature of our visit. Dressed as commoners, we were meant to go unnoticed. Still, I couldn’t help but take note of the women serving here under the reign of the dragon Moloch.

  They wore stern looks on their faces; not at all like the happy expressions of the priestesses in Babale. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was simply a reflection of the city, with its ill mood, making them look that way. “If I had to serve in such an unattractive city, I’d probably frown too,” I whispered into Agnes’ ear as we turned down another street, maneuvering our way through the crowd.

  She cast a sidelong glance at me, seeming scornful of the remark at first. Then a smirk crossed her face as she said, “Not to mention the smell. But we’d better keep quiet. Some may be listening with the gifts. The High Guard here has not been notified of our operation.”

  I immediately ceased any further comments, while discreetly keeping my eyes peeled for any indication that our cover had been compromised. The eyes of the guards flitted across the crowd, searching for anything suspicious, but they never seemed to pay us any special attention. Very likely they had received news of the attacks taking place in Babale.

  The High Guard would naturally be very suspicious of any behavior out of the ordinary. No one wanted to become the target of further attacks by the rebels. If they had already been brazen enough to strike the very heart of the kingdom, then no one could truly feel safe anymore.

  We had been walking through the streets of Tarris for more than three hours when Agnes said, “I think the place where we are to meet Felonius is down this way.”

  We turned down an alley, for it was much too narrow to be considered a proper street, and began a trek among seedier elements of the city. There were unwashed smelly people here and there, looking very intoxicated. Old wineskins dangled from the twitchy fingers of the unconscious. Rats skittered across our path, screeching their complaints for our interrupting whatever wretched business they were about.

  Agnes carried on as though there was nothing out of the ordinary about the scene. I was disgusted by it. Never had I seen people living in such conditions. In Babale, the High Guard would never have allowed such conditions to exist. In the back of my mind, I vowed to use my new position among the Guard to make sure they never did.

  As appalling as I found this revelation, we were still on a mission that required us to be inconspicuous. With effort, I pushed back my emotions and allowed my disgust to drain out of my expression. I walked after Agnes, the model of an apathetic citizen of Tarris.

  Agnes stopped in front of a squat block building. There was no one loitering in front of it like there was around the other buildings opening to the alley. A single thick-looking metal door stood before us, warning us that nothing good could be waiting beyond. Agnes looked at me and then approached the door. There were stains upon the door, almost as though something had splashed across its surface. Subsequent rains had not completely wiped it away. My first thought was blood, but it was difficult to be sure.

  Banging out a rhythmic pattern, no doubt something Helda had imparted to her, Agnes stepped back to stand beside me in the alley and wait for a reply. After a few seconds, a metal slide began to open near the top of the door. A pair of eyes was just barely visible peering out at us from the darkness beyond. “Who are you?” a voice barked from behind the door.

  Agnes took a step forward. “Mistress Helda has sent us to Felonius,” she said.

  A hint of recognition shown in the eyes before the metal slide was shoved back into place. Several locks could be heard as they were unlocked and bolts slid out of place behind the door. The door opened quickly, and a meaty arm covered in black hair shot out from behind it, beckoning us to enter. Agnes and I cast sidelong glances at one another, and then we stepped forward inside the doorway where darkness swallowed us.

  Immediately, I grabbed Agnes’ sleeve to be sure that we didn’t get separated. At the same time, I reached into the Gifts of Transcendence for heightened senses. The gifts responded to my call. My eyesight lightened, so that I could see the room and descending stairs beyond in a sort of twilight vision. The burly arm was attached to a hulking mass of a man; his belly barely contained by a leather halter.

  The little vestibule where we were standing reeked of his foul body odor. The beefy guard removed a cap from a lamp sitting on a table nearby, barely giving me enough time to dampen the effect of the gifts on my sight before being temporarily blinded by the sudden addition of light. I shielded my eyes as they readjusted to our surroundings.

  The man grunted in the direction of the stairs as he placed the lamp upon the wall above. The light spilled most of the way down. Seeing that the guard was not going to accompany us, Agnes and I started cautiously down. The air was moist, but not so much that it made the stone steps slick to walk upon. I had dimmed my vision somewhat, but had retained my more acute hearing.

  As we neared the bottom of the stair we ca
me to another door; this one made out of wood. Beyond the door I could hear all sorts of strange noises: laughter, footsteps and the rustle of different fabrics rubbing against one another and across the skin of the wearers. Listening further, I heard the voices of women and one particular man’s voice, as well as the raucous noise of food chewing as the man spoke, ordering servants about.

  Agnes watched me, waiting to see if I had heard anything indicating danger from the other side of the door. I shook my head. She placed her palm against the door for a brief moment. Knowing the gifts, I understood that she was attempting to feel the heat from bodies in the room beyond. She removed her hand, then held up four fingers—the number of warm bodies she had sensed through the gifts.

  I glanced up the stair, finding the burly guard still watching us. He almost certainly couldn’t make out what we were doing down in the shadows, but he at least knew we hadn’t gone through the door yet.

  “Knock,” he said with a voice so deep as to be menacing without effort.

  Immediately I had the urge to knock just so I wouldn’t have to hear him speak to us again. Agnes, taking the lead, knocked, rapping on the door three times. I could hear someone responding, light steps drawing near to open the door. Presumably, they had no fear of opening the door for someone who had managed to make it past the giant sentinel up the stairs.

  A woman dressed in silk garments opened the door, allowing us to enter the lavishly decorated room beyond. Immediately, I connected the sights with the sounds I had heard while still on the other side of the door and the information Agnes had given me. Besides the young woman at the door, there were two more clad in similar garments fawning over a fat man dressed in purple robes, sitting upon a mound of pillows that may have passed for some sort of throne.

  The women appeared to represent some sort of harem. They were giggling slightly as they made a mess, playfully feeding the man various cuts of fruit from a platter one of them was holding. The man was trying to sip from a bejeweled goblet of gold at the same time. I could smell the fermented wine within all the way across the room even without the use of the gifts.

  The man paused as he beheld us, and then motioned for us to come toward him. We removed our hats and the fat man seemed to notice for the first time that we were women. “Ah,” he said, beginning to appraise us anew. Disappointment dawned for a moment. “Really, how can I know if I can use you when you’re wearing such things? Kindly disrobe, please.” He took another sip from his goblet.

  Agnes and I looked at one another again, puzzled.

  “Come, come, ladies,” he said with some annoyance. “I have no time to dally with sheepish harlots.”

  The light of understanding dawned a moment before my hand flew to one of my blades hidden beneath my riding coat. It was bad enough that this churlish pig kept such women in bondage to him, but to assume that we had shamelessly come to beg our bodies into his employ was more than I could stand. It was only as I reacted that I noticed the fifth person in the room.

  Neither I nor Agnes had spotted her lying in wait within the shadows when we came into the room. But as my blade came free in a threatening blur of motion, the woman with hair as black as a crow’s wing shot forward to intercept me. She moved far faster than any normal woman should have been capable. Even as I moved toward the fat man on his pillowed throne I knew that she must be a wraith dancer…and she was going to beat me to him.

  With only a fraction of a second to assess the new situation, I noted that she had produced no weapon. That meant she would employ one of the Gifts of Transcendence; possibly the Touch. If she managed to connect properly, the bones in either my hand or my arm would likely be shattered. Moreover, since I had set my course in motion prior to her reaction, I was at a disadvantage for changing direction. Still, I mustered the strength to pull my arm back just enough to keep her from connecting with her intertwined index and middle fingers—the signature of the Touch.

  The woman missed as I retreated. The fat man had only just reacted to our movements, lurching backward over his mound of silk pillows, tumbling with one of his female servants into the floor beyond. Immediately, I was strengthening my hold on the Gifts, calling for increased strength, agility and perception. I wasn’t going to back down. The fat man’s dark-haired bodyguard wasn’t retreating either.

  Almost as soon as it had begun, Agnes inserted herself between us. I realized that I had acted inappropriately, possibly jeopardizing our mission by rushing ahead when Agnes was to lead in all things pertaining to this assignment. Strangely, she hadn’t addressed me, but the other woman. “Andrea!” she shouted.

  We both stopped short of our next moves—both of us puzzled by Agnes’ knowledge of this mysterious wraith dancer’s identity. The fat man had begun to recover himself; his servants helping him to his feet. Agnes did not wait for his outrage to be unleashed. “Felonius, we are sent from Mistress Helda in Babale,” she said.

  I noticed that Helda’s name disarmed his temper. He switched from bewildered outrage to broken subservience in an instant. “Please, ladies, sit?” He gestured to more cushions on the floor opposite his own. He snapped his fingers at his female servants, sending them hastily for hot food and new wine.

  I marveled, wondering what hold an old woman could have on such a wicked man in a city leagues away. Surely, Helda must hold this fat man’s life by a thread for him to act this way. His bodyguard, Andrea, had already returned to the shadows behind him. Felonius began to speak with Agnes about our needs, conveying his most sincere apologies for mistaking us for common harlots. “Business is business, you understand,” I heard him say.

  For my part, I fell in beside Agnes, allowing her to lead. We really couldn’t afford to risk this operation. We had been commanded by Belial himself. However, my gaze never left Andrea’s dark eyes, and her gaze never faltered from mine.

  ANDREA

  I felt anything but comfortable sitting upon the silk cushions before the fat man, Felonius. Some kind of meat, chicken I think, had been brought out on a platter for us along with various kinds of cut fruit and tea. Agnes had refused the wine that had been offered. Before eating or drinking any of it, I had used the gifts to enhance my senses once again so that I could detect any chemicals or poisons that might have been added. You could never be too careful, especially in the company of a wicked man like Felonius.

  His female servants sat beside him pawing at him every now and then, filling me with disgust. They were barely wearing enough clothing to cover themselves, besides seeming to be either intoxicated or impaired by opiates. At any rate, I found it difficult to believe that any woman in their right mind would serve Felonius.

  Still, there was this curious bodyguard, Andrea. She was clearly in a sober state. No wraith dancer could access the Gifts of Transcendence otherwise. But why would someone with such a noble background serve a man like Felonius in a place like this? I tried to get my mind on the business at hand, but Andrea was too much of a distraction. Not to mention that having her standing in the shadows behind the fat man had me wound as tightly a bowstring.

  “These refugees,” Agnes was asking, “they are bound for the castle at Thorn Mountain?”

  “Yes,” Felonius said. “For a price, I find suitable places for these Believers who have been ostracized from their families and neighbors for their new faith. One of the easiest, for the time being anyway, is the castle. I don’t deal directly with the prophet, but he hasn’t turned anyone away yet.”

  “Couldn’t these refugees just travel to Thorn Mountain themselves?” Agnes asked. It was a question that I wondered about as well.

  Felonius chuckled to himself. “I suppose they could try,” he admitted. “However, the journey can be perilous with the weather. And there are the rumors that have circulated.”

  “What rumors?” Agnes said.

  Felonius could not suppress a grin. “It is said that you have to have the right contacts in order to be allowed up the mountain. Otherwise, you could be making a tr
ip through the snowy wastes only to be turned away. Then where would these people and their poor children be?

  “And these rumors,” I interrupted, “do they also tell of a man named Felonius who can get you inside for the right price?”

  “As I said, it is a rumor that has spread throughout the city and beyond,” Felonius said. “Who knows how these things get started.”

  “I trust our price will be different.” Agnes suggested.

  “Oh, entirely, my dear,” Felonius agreed. “Any friend of Helda is a friend of mine. Consider the fee waived.”

  I wanted to ask why that should be the case—why the old woman made the difference—if nothing else but to see him squirm. But I didn’t.

  Agnes seemed satisfied with Felonius’ offer. “Then we should be on our way as soon as possible.”

  Felonius stood and motioned Andrea to him. “Indeed, you shall, ladies.” Felonius seemed as eager to have us away as we were. He led the way through a hallway beyond—a corridor lined with doors down each side. I did not have to enhance my hearing to catch the laughter and moans of pleasure emanating from the rooms beyond. My desire to be gone from this place only increased.

  We finally came to another chamber where the fat man had all manner of food items in store, as well as clothing, weapons and anything else one might need. He turned to us, gesturing toward his storehouse. “Please, ladies, take what you need for your journey; my gift to Mistress Helda and the Serpent Kings.”

  Agnes and I began to peruse Felonius’ supplies, taking down foods that would travel easily as well as water skins. I found suits of clothing made from animal furs and pulled them down as well. We would definitely face colder temperatures and quite possibly foul weather as we made our way to Thorn Mountain.

  “I should have anything you need for the journey, ladies,” Felonius said. “When you have what you need, my bodyguard, Andrea, will escort you to one of my warehouses near the city perimeter. There you can join the refugees, and Andrea will see that you get a proper start. Remember, if you want to blend in with the refugees you must not make references to our dragon gods except in a negative way. However, many of these folk are still new to their faith in their dead god. So, you won’t be expected to have any great theological knowledge.”