The Last Pantheon: of spiders and falcons

by Jason Jones

  “Yes, my Lady.” He returned the bow, chuckling as he spoke to the beautiful elven noble. The knight of Chazzrynn started up the trail, following the cut branches and brush that the greataxe had left behind.

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  The crates and barrels were far more organized, save for the remaining back row of the storage hull. Zen had spent much sweat with the crew in rearranging the new supplies, graciously allowed by the king of Chazzrynn. More came down, hopefully not too many more, thought the priest, as he was running out of room. The smell of musty saltwater and mold did not bother him, nor the aroma of wood or sweaty crewman, yet there was something else that caught his nose, something that did not belong down here, a stench that permeated the others.

  “Keep em coming men, but put em there if you will. I need to set the back row straight to get em all in here rightly.”

  Azenairk squeezed his bulky girth through the orderly supply crates to the far back row. His eyes did a double take, finding something he did not expect to find, and his jaw dropped. The bodies of Dennilar and three other crewman lay piled, faces cut, throats slit, with puncture wounds and lacerations galore. They were also bloated and smelling of days old death.

  “Saberrak!! Shinayne!! Anyone!!” he yelled, the men up and down the stairs relaying calls. But not all the men.

  One of them, a quiet one, wandered toward the storage area, with Zen trapped in the back. His grin was fanged, his eyes pitch black, and his arm ended in a curved blade of white bone. He began to crawl over the barrels, seeing the dwarf unarmed.

  “Great Vundren's shield! You sly little fiends come and get your passage to hell!” Azenairk waited till the creature got closer, then prayed, holding his Hammerpiece around his neck, his hymn and devout words took form as light appeared in his right hand. The doppelganger disguised as a raggedy crewman got closer. The light took gold then silver, finally a white glowing form of a hammer.

  “God will always provide to those of faith.” The last Thalanaxe smiled, seeing concern go across the shapeshifter’s face, and he stepped forward wielding the hammer of God.

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  Shinayne heard Zen from below deck, and dashed toward the stairs. Her blades out, yet having no armor to protect her, she leapt down half the distance of the stairs to the landing between her and the hull. She was not alone. Two seamen met her on the platform between the upper and lower stairs, blocking her way. Each had a foul look, and eyes that were darker than normal. Swords brandished, they silently stared at the elven woman, and then she knew what they were.

  Slowly, out of their left palms, bone and flesh twisted into an elongated spike, glistening wet white protrusions that waved in front of her. The two doppelgangers moved in, weaving their stolen natural weapons and their unnatural ones as well.

  “Disgusting. Are you two sure about this?”

  The blades cut across at her, setting up for a quick kill. The two creatures lunged with stretching arms to puncture the elf through the chest. She parried each cutlass with her curved swords, then dropped to her knees quickly, hearing the sound of the two fiends impale each other on their own spikes. They hissed in agony, and before they could take another attack, Shinayne was up on her feet. She cut at the one on her left, disarming his weapon, then followed with the longblade. She took its head off right below the chin.

  The elven swordswoman dropped again, crossing her swords behind her head for the attack she knew was coming. Feeling the edge of the cutlass and spike hit her weapons, she spun around, cutting off both arms at the wrist, then plunging both blades through the doppelganger's chest. A last flash of steel took the head from its shoulders, then Shinayne let out a breath of relief. Purple blood leaked all over the platform and stairs, and the crew started to arm themselves and rush to see what was happening to their fellow mates.

  With anger in their eyes, the men looked at the handiwork of the elven woman, then watched as the men that lay dead slowly transformed into pale white husks, hairless, sexless, and fanged with black demon eyes.

  “Search the ship! We have doppelgangers aboard, courtesy of Valhirst! Move!” Lady Shinayne rushed down the stairs, the men stepping aside. Despite the horror on their faces, many men followed the elven noble as she headed below deck to Zen’s aide.

  Purple blood on his face, his hands empty, Azenairk Thalanaxe walked up the stairs and met Shinayne halfway. “Mine’s dead, my Lady. You alright?” She stopped her steps, nearly running into the dwarf head on. “Killed two. How many more are there?”

  “Was Captain Dennilar one of the ones you cut down?” the dwarf looked around for the captain, not seeing him anywhere.

  “No. You?” Shinayne caught her breath, and tried to sense where a strange aura of emotion might be coming from. She closed her eyes, sensing the aft and above. The captain’s quarters. She felt something wicked, with no emotion, moving.

  “Where is Gwenneth?” the dwarf looked up toward the captain’s deck, and picked up an oar off one of the away boats.

  “She was studying that scroll up there, where the captain was plotting our course.” Shinayne started back up the stairs, Zen behind her holding the oar like a spear, and the crew reluctantly following at a distance.

  “Not all it was plotting, be my guess.” Zen waved the men to follow.

  “Indeed.” Shinayne rushed back up stairs, heading for the Captain's quarters.

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  Saberrak saw the opening, a flat clearing near the top of two valleys, and another giant wooden pillar topped with the carving of a large cat’s eye. He had stopped many times in his climb through the valley and up to the top of the small lush mountain. He had heard that someone was following him, assuming by the sound of his steps that it was James. His senses were keen while out away from all the people, and the gray minotaur smelled something, several somethings, in fact. He smelled urine on the breeze, and animals, feline by the odor.

  He walked further, following the scent, and crouched behind a strange flowered tree, its purple blooms and red seeds swaying from the branches on the wind. He saw several men, wearing rags and animal skins, yet some were dressed as sailors. None of them were armed, all around a fire, talking and eating, laughing, looking at the sky and trees. Freedom. The minotaur felt that they were happy to be atop the mountain, living a free life. He decided to approach.

  “You, there! Who are you, friend?” The men stood up, dropping their food and walking forward. They stared at the hulking horned beast, intrigued, but not afraid.

  “Saberrak the Gray, my ship is getting supplies below.” He walked forward, looking down at the dirty men, all human, smelling of cat urine. He stopped, seeing them stop and converse in a language he did not understand. He spoke the Agarian tongue, the rough language of the ogre, and even an old lost underground dwarven trade tongue, but this was different, bestial with growls and animal noises mixed together.

  One spoke up, of the dozen or more that now gathered. “Another ship? Not the one that just landed hours ago over there?” He pointed to the southern side of the island.

  “No. My ship is there, and has been all day.” The minotaur pointed to the northern tip of the island nearby. As they began talking, he began to back away, sensing something not right about these men. He heard noise from behind, mixed with heavy breathing. He glanced at the food they were eating, and he saw a human hand.

  “Why, by the wings of Alden, did you find it necessary to climb all the way…Saberrak, who are they?” James reached for his broadsword, realizing he had not worn his chainmail nor brought his shield on this little hike.

  “Just start slowly down the valley. There is another ship on the south side, and they know of it. Regardless of who these men are, we have to leave before the other ship rounds the island.” Saberrak pulled his other axe and backed up slowly, keeping the knight behind him.

  “What are they eating, Saberrak?” James drew his blade
.

  “You need to come with us. The lord Bansa will wish to see you.” Two of them spoke in unison, like they were commanded to do so by something else. Their eyes turned an off green and yellow blend, pupils shrinking and slivering. Black whiskers began to sprout from their faces and they began to purr loudly at the minotaur and the knight.

  “This Lord Bansa, I assume he is a cat? Like you?” Saberrak quickened his pace walking backwards, keeping both axes out in front of him.

  “Yes, a great cat, the greatest, and the wisest, and the largest, and the oldest in the islands. He is worshipped here, by many, and by you as well.” Now four or five were speaking the same words simultaneously, sending chills to their prey. Half the men had started walking on all four legs, their skin turning black as fur sprouted thick and shiny. Tails had grown, and as they did, painful yawns and hisses issued from fanged feline mouths.

  “Saberrak, these men are turning into large cats. I think we should run. They look unfriendly, to say the least.” James had never seen anything like this before, not even heard of it. He could not imagine meeting their lord or God, or whatever it was. He waited for the minotaur to make the first move.

  “I think we will just leave then. Send our regards to your lord.” Saberrak the Gray eyed each one, eleven he counted, and lowered his horns while he withdrew.

  All of them were now black panthers with glowing yellow green eyes, standing over four feet at the shoulder, speaking in unison. They began to move to circle the two visitors.

  “Your worship is most appreciated, and if not, your meat will be.”

  “Run!”

  Saberrak turned and sprinted with James Andellis, heading down the forest valley as fast as his powerful legs would allow, hearing the sound of the angry felines behind him. He heard their claws land in trees, their paws land onto branches, and the chase and feline roars of the rest. His heart pounded, fearing more for James than himself.

  The cats began to pass the two men fleeing down the island, gaining ground to each side through rushing trees and midnight shadow. James ducked as a black mass leapt from a tree above his head, landing on the other side of the makeshift trail that was barely visible.

  The minotaur jumped as one of the ferocious cats scrambled for his leg from the left, landing on his feet as it slid down into the forest slope. He looked behind him, seeing them all moving faster in step and maneuver than he and the knight. He decided to stop to give James a chance, and to see what these beasts were made of.

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  Gwenneth sat with the stone scroll, feeling its power, unable to manipulate or attune to it. She read the incantations in her mind, and what she could of the ancient prayers and story carried in the lost words of a language long out of use. She watched as the captain went over the maps, silently. He had been plotting course after course for hours now, retracing the same patterns in different orders, and seemed to be really trying to make it believable. Gwenne Lazlette had been aware that he was a doppelganger since she arrived in the Captain’s quarters this evening for some peace and quiet to study.

  He had difficulty speaking or making eye contact, and really knew little of the maps he was writing nonsense upon. She had peeked up from time to time, noting that the course he plotted would take them to Jal-Adeen, about four months of sailing to the west and around the northern coast of Agara through the Soltaic Ocean and the Sea of Jasada, nowhere near Harlaheim. Gwenne surmised that this creature was young, and had no idea how to read the maps, since part of the journey took the seafaring Bronze Harpy through Misathi Mountains. She kept her composure, kept studying, and hid her wand under her robes with her hand upon it.

  Hearing the sounds of battle or commotion outside the closed quarters, the pseudo Captain perked up, distracted from his monotonous tracing. He kept his eyes lowered though, and made his way to the sofa, feigning a yawn and a stretch, and sat next to the young wizard. His arm even reached toward her, and she gently blocked it with her hand, placing it in his lap.

  “Not so fast, Captain.”

  It chuckled, not knowing anything of human situations like this, and seeming confused as to how to get closer to this woman. The creature thought that most human women preferred a mate of position, control, and leadership, so its brain was not understanding how it could fail to get the human to let it touch her.

  “May I kiss you? Yes, yes, kiss you, my dear?”

  “Only if you close your eyes, Captain. I am shy, and have never been this close to a man such as you, sir.” She stood, feigning nervousness, as she was truly comfortable lying, having had to do so much of it growing up in the towers of the academy. Gwenne waited, sensing hesitation in the creature as it focused on the noises outside. She heard them as also.

  “Well sir, I’m waiting…”

  The doppelganger stood, one hand behind its back, spreading bone blades from its fingertips. The creature closed its eyes, and stepped forward. Then the captain’s head smashed against the back wall, knocking dozens of instruments and decorations from the shelves. Eyes wide open and black, the shapeshifter felt held against its will, four feet off the ground, body slamming into the walls from the pointed wand of the woman.

  “Virsul varnas miviandra!” Gwenneth pointed her hand, keeping the thing in the air with the wand, and shot a mystical cylinder of green mist into the doppelganger's face and chest. The creature screamed, hissed, and choked, as it reverted to its natural grotesque form and the pale skin began to sizzle from the acid.

  “You are a terrible lover, and you scream like a little child, Captain.”

  The door to the chamber flung open, Shinayne, backed by Zen with an oar, stood ready to kill. They looked at the levitating doppelganger, purple blood dripping from a slowly melting face and chest, while it turned into all sorts of birds and animals in an attempt to escape the arcane grip that held it.

  “I need the two of you to duck, please.” Gwenne stated in perfect calm. They did so and stepped aside, allowing Lazlette to levitate the creature out the door and above the main deck. She followed, and carried the doppelganger over the Carisian Sea, about fifty feet out from the ship, the whole crew of the Harpy watching.

  “Hidsisir hussel!” Her hand formed a ball of swirling red fire, orange sparks flittering into the air, keeping the wand aimed at the melting doppelganger. Her hand shot forward, releasing a cone of fire three feet in length that was guided by her fingertips. It hurled with deadly accuracy, crashing and bursting into a shower of flame that engulfed the creature still being held melting from acid above the water. It flailed, screamed, then twitched very little as it blackened and smoldered. Moments later, a husk of burnt skin over a skeleton was dropped, lifeless, into the sea. Not a word was spoken. The crew, and even her friends, just looked at the ripples in the still horizon, then to Gwenne. They watched her put her wand away and turn around, slowly walking back into the Captain’s quarters. Her long dark hair whipped in the breeze, flowing with her black robes, the door shutting behind her.

  “I almost felt sorry for that creature.” Azenairk touched his holy symbol that hung from around his neck, fearing and admiring the power that the lady wizard possessed. “Who is going to captain the ship now?”

  “I will.” The swordswoman sheathed her blades and went up the stairs to have a look at the charts. She stopped, right in front of the door, the clouds starting to dull the darkness. She heard something from the island, the sound of a man yelling. It was James. Shinayne concentrated, her senses keen, and she heard cats hissing and the sound of fighting.

  “Get the away boats in the water! Now!” the noblewoman yelled for all to hear. To her surprise, the human men listened and did as she ordered, right away.

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  Another panther clawed across his back, sharp razors slicing into tough gray hide. Saberrak chopped behind him in full swing with the greataxe, catching the beast in the neck and knocking it to the ground. His left chopped down
with the other axe, burying the edge into the cat’s skull. His eyes attuned to darkness, the minotaur lowered his horns and charged downhill at two fiendish panther-men that stalked him. His horns dove deep into the chest of the left one, its claws raking his shoulders as it hissed and growled in pain. The gladiator did not stop, driving the beast into the cat’s eye statue behind it, crushing spine and ribs, feeling the blood run down the top of his head, down his horns and onto his face.

  He turned in time to catch a glimpse of the one that had pounced on him from behind, the two toppling end over end, down off the trail into the dark valley. Saberrak pinned the throat of the huge feline and lifted it, clawing and hissing, then cut his greataxe blade twice through the midsection, cleaving it in two.

  He looked up, seeing six or seven sets of yellow green eyes surrounding him. Frozen for a moment, bleeding from his back and shoulders, the minotaur's mind went blank. He felt the anger and rage of his years in the arena, the poise of having no choice but to kill everything that moved around him. He stepped on the twitching head of the severed panther at his feet, and grinned. Surrounded by hisses and angry feline fiends, Saberrak crushed the skull purposefully and raised his axes in challenge.

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  James continued to yell for the ship, hearing the panther behind him crashing through the foliage in the dark. He was on sand now. He could see with the light of the moons and the stars, and he could make out the away boats being lowered with lantern light aboard. Placing two hands on the broadsword, the knight of Chazzrynn turned, realizing the boats were minutes away. He saw the bounding eyes, staring at him on a full run that he could not escape on open beach. The beast closed, leapt, and he turned and rolled to his left, hearing the panther crash into the shallow water. As he faced it, the feline was up and circling him, as he circled it.

  “Come with us, do not fear it,” the voice hissed out words, then waited for a response. The knight said nothing, kept his guard up, and waited for the creature to charge.