The Undying God

by Nathan Wilson

  It meticulously rubbed its mandibles together, contemplating what to do next. It regarded Nishka.

  Seizing her crossbow was the furthest thing from her mind. Before she could even act on that impulse, she saw Arxu strike its hind leg with his steel staff. He barely dented the surface, but it was enough to send the spider into frenzy. It scrambled away with the hysteria of a rabid animal.

  “North!” Arxu cried. Together, he fled with Nishka toward the local bazaar, winding through the bowels of alleys strewn with rubble. Nishka cast one look over her shoulder, and she saw the siege machine dexterously navigating the ruins. It leaped from the horizontal surface of a building to the street, scrabbling over vendor booths and launching itself onto an overhanging arch.

  It shrieked from above, taunting them with its insidious chant. As long as it didn’t plunge on top of them, it could screech to its heart’s delight—or whatever device was keeping it animate.

  “What is it doing?” Nishka asked. She noticed it had become still, dominating the skyline. Its eight, wandering eyes reflected the burning sun.

  “Studying the city layout,” Arxu muttered. As if to contradict him, the spider scurried away with a burst of speed. It scaled a palace, one of its legs plunging through a window, shattering glass into millions of little diamonds. From there, it leaped into space and alighted nimbly in the city plaza.

  Nishka staggered and fell to her knees as the water bridge convulsed. The thunder of mechanical footsteps sent a tingling through Arxu’s spine as he tried to retrieve her. As Nishka lay on her knees, she peered over her shoulder to behold her demise.

  They were alone.

  They could still feel the aqueducts shiver from its omnipresent weight. Suddenly, it reared over the side of the bridge, causing Nishka to shriek. Several tons of metal outstretched on the aqueducts, blocking the city entrance.

  The threatening spider reared up and raised two legs in the air. It couldn’t possibly regard the city as its lair, yet it wouldn’t stop stalking them to the border. It seemed eager to kill them by any means—or kill anything that moved in its sight.

  Arxu stepped forth and placed himself between Nishka and the machine. His efforts would be in vain, Nishka knew. The abomination uttered an ominous noise and slowly approached.

  Suddenly, a spindly figure darted from the edge of the bridge to stand beside Nishka. Hrioshango smiled mischievously and acknowledged her. She was befuddled by his sudden and unexpected appearance.

  “What the—?”

  Hrioshango lifted his arms and faced the sky. Suddenly, there was an awesome flash and colors inverted. The surrounding city blazed with purple, blue, and white. Dusk was awash with blinding green and the sun became a black hole in the sky. Hrioshango was emblazoned against the surreal void like lightning, an apparition of purple with arms reaching for the heavens.

  Howling wind filled their ears and the clouds swelled. The waters below churned furiously and spiraled into a maelstrom. The vortex of chaos glistened preciously, like an entire universe being congealed into a dense and violent nexus. It growled voraciously, imitating the bellow of thunder.

  Without warning, an immense weight descended upon the city. A droning ambience filled their ears, the most terrifying noise to ever invade Nishka’s mind. It was like an otherworldly groan that permeated the streets, rising around them and billowing to a thick bass.

  Buildings on the perimeter of the district strained and flexed under an invisible force. Stone spires shattered in seconds. A palatial tower exploded like a blossom of dust.

  The city around them was imploding.

  * * *

  Worshippers screamed as Margzor stepped over the fallen. He approached with his blade clasped tightly in hand. He didn’t even flinch at the cries of the dying.

  No amount of violence could possibly sate him. A tribute of gold wouldn’t banish this killer from their midst. Unlike most criminals, he did not seek wealth, slaves, political power, sanctuary from the law—none of it appealed to him.

  He was not a man without conscience, far from it. In fact, it was his conscience that required him to kill them. He was a man of vision, that much was true, and his vision could only be achieved by force.

  One scream melded with another, a continuous cry for mercy. He did not listen. At last, none of the living remained.

  Margzor collapsed to his knees, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his chin in its hypnotic drip-drop rhythm. An expression of rage marred his handsome face. He stood above the corpses, breathing hard from exertion. His heart throbbed madly from the ecstasy of the kill. He only felt a depraved sense of accomplishment, one step closer to his long term goal.

  Choking for breath, he staggered to his feet and stepped over the bodies. The doorway behind him glowed with brilliant sunlight. It vaguely resembled a portal to another world, a brighter, more perfect afterlife.

  One step at a time, he emerged from the macabre sanctum. The city outside the temple was devastated, the street shorn completely from the structure. The street outstretched from the colonnaded portico like a precipice above the waters below. A frothing maelstrom snarled like a beast unleashed beneath the city. The weakened ledge would not support him for much longer. He couldn’t return to the temple and he couldn’t remain in Azia-Nocti. He sighed in satisfaction.

  Margzor stepped forward. He plunged from the remains of the street into the frenzied waters below.

  * * *

  From above, a crater spread across the city, corroding everything at its edges with destruction. Like a tide of decay, it washed over streets and enveloped them in darkness. In the center of that crater, Hrioshango still raised his hands toward the sky.

  Nishka watched with amazement as the siege machine sank under a crushing weight. The steel limbs groaned and slammed against the ground. The drill protruded at a bizarre angle as the top of the structure flattened.

  The remains of partially collapsed buildings pelted the streets, and Arxu scrambled to evade the debris. He pulled Nishka to the ground and sheltered her with his body.

  Another seismic wave ripped through the city, racing through the streets and colliding with a tower. An explosion rocked the plaza as the edifice shattered like bone. Dust and debris oozed into the streets as though the tower could bleed. The shadow it cast elongated as the edifice tilted drunkenly and collapsed in the streets. Arxu shielded Nishka as dust washed over him like an oceanic wave.

  Upon opening his eyes, he saw the mechanical spider flailing on the bridge. It clawed frantically at the splintering chunk of masonry as it loosened from the aqueducts.

  The machine plummeted through space at a terrifying speed. Water exploded on impact, arching into a mighty wave to consume the arachnid. The water bridge quaked and its edge began to crumble under strain. As it teetered on the brink of collapse, the three foreigners ran toward land.

  Suddenly, Arxu’s foot plunged through empty space and the surface beneath him seemed strangely absent. To his astonishment, Nishka seized the end of the staff in his hands. She cried out for help as she attempted to pull him to safety.

  “Help!” she shouted for the darkling. Hrioshango scampered to a stop and spun around.

  “He is disposable!” he yelled.

  “Help me!” The thrashing of the maelstrom began to grow louder. Horror seized her when she saw the milky white eye of the maelstrom, swallowing everything within like a black hole. “What the hell have you done?!” Nishka screamed at the top of her lungs. Hrioshango’s reply couldn’t be heard over the roaring phenomenon.

  “Never mind! Help me!”

  “Humans...” Hrioshango murmured under his breath. He seized Nishka by the leg and pulled. Arxu barely managed to claw his free hand onto the ledge. They reached the outskirts of Azia-Nocti as the bridge collapsed. A rumble pulsed through the waters below and reverberated through the surrounding earth.

  Arxu slowly backed away from the maelstrom. The sight was breathtaking.

  “What did you do?
” Hrioshango met his eyes with a mischievous expression.

  “Hrioshango make the sky fall,” he gleefully replied.

  “You could have warned me.”

  Hrioshango grinned.

  Chapter 15

  A great chasm stretched from the forest’s edge to the city aqueducts. The water bridge to Azia-Nocti had been swept away in the maelstrom.

  Decades would pass before the city recovered from the calamity. The ruins of the city entrance were a sobering reminder of how quickly life could end. Arxu and Nishka barely managed to escape with their lives, but many citizens of Azia-Nocti had not been so fortunate.

  They would bear the devastation to their city for decades to come, and the bitter rivalry between the oligarchs would only delay the recovery efforts.

  “Are you insane?!” Nishka yelled. “How many people did you kill in those buildings by doing whatever you—?”

  “Hrioshango did not hear any screams... Did you not see the mass exodus from the district? So many helpless humans fleeing when they saw my—er, the spider!” Nishka huffed in indignation. His consolation that no one suffered would have to suffice for now.

  “What was that thing?” she said, looking back at the city. “What was it doing?”

  “Obviously, the sins of the people have manifested in a vengeful demon charged with carrying out their punishment,” Hrioshango hissed. He was careful not to burst into raucous laughter. “It detests the greed and selfishness of the people! Behold as their wickedness breeds a demon from below the city that shall remind them that they have strayed from the virtuous path!”

  Nishka eyed the darkling skeptically.

  “Whatever.”

  “Leave us,” Arxu sharply commanded.

  “I will not be parted from my cloak! You must return it to Hrioshango!”

  Arxu glanced at his staff as though contemplating finishing this once and for all. He reached for the pendant around his neck and fingered the clasp. He stripped off the cloak across his shoulders and Hrioshango’s eyes widened in glee. At last, he would be reunited with his precious cloak and its illegal inventory. Arxu cast the cloak into the sky and the wind snatched it.

  Hrioshango shrieked and elbowed the Nightwalker out of the way. He bound toward the sunsetting horizon in pursuit of the elusive cloak.

  Nishka watched as their only method of salvaging her father’s merchandise was lost. She knew Arxu had only abandoned the cloak to be rid of the darkling. Nevertheless, it signaled the end of their mission, and Nishka felt crushed.

  “It’s over,” Arxu admitted. “Our journey has ended. I will bring you home to your father.”

  * * *

  Margzor stood precariously above the roaring waters. He had barely extricated himself from the torrent and clawed his way onto a marble ledge. It was surprisingly stable although it had been shattered into a dozen pieces. The people of Azia-Nocti certainly knew how to construct strong aqueducts—but even they could not withstand the cruelty of gravity.

  Masonry continued to orbit in the whirlpool, but his perch remained solid and withstanding. His only chance of traversing the body of water was to time his jumps precisely. A single mistake could cost him more than a broken limb. He was fairly certain the maelstrom would drag him hundreds of feet below the city.

  Margzor forged a route among ruins dancing in the wild embrace of the maelstrom. He came to a pause, watching a strange form thrashing in the water. Something humongous was writhing below the surface, entrapped. A large, metallic limb squirmed out of the vortex. It flailed wildly, stabbing the water in a fever of rage.

  The form soon submerged along with the rest of the creature. Margzor watched for a moment longer. When nothing crested the waters, he slowly approached the edge of the platform.

  He raised his head to behold remains of the aqueducts raining down. His eyes widened as the ruins grew increasingly in size, coming closer with every anxious flutter of his heart. He sprang forward, narrowly avoiding the lethal impact.

  At last, his feet touched down on the shore and he drifted into the forest. He did not regret his crimes in Azia-Nocti, the suffering that the city would feel for years to come. He would require many days before he could wage his holy war.

  There was no man that could stand between him and the results he desired. He would inevitably find pleasure and joy before anyone killed him.

  He repelled the notion of his death, knowing it would be impossible to destroy him if he eradicated the remaining temples. He smiled to himself, but his joy was short-lived.

  His heart would never allow him a moment of respite. As he departed into the darkness of the forest, a notion so familiar possessed him: a philosophy he had developed during his years of isolation, a complex interpretation of beauty, perfection, and sexual morality.

  They were the pillars of his vision, a moral awakening that only he could ignite. He would ignite the very soul of the world, ushering in a new era of pleasure—or pain, depending on how society welcomed these changes.

  He didn’t consider himself a revolutionary, just the executioner of a plan. How strange it seemed that he must take the lives of others to make the world a better place. The horrendous nature of it contradicted his good intentions.

  Ideology was the driving force behind his actions, the stimulus that set his plans in motion, a fountain of inspiration that would never cease to nourish his wildest fantasies. It was sheer fanaticism that could not be stifled by threats, organized religion, or lethal force. He would gladly be martyred for his convictions. He believed it would not come to that… He was far too cunning for authorities and too meticulous in his plans.

  Margzor would redefine society with his philosophy. It didn’t matter if the world was ready for these changes or not.

  * * *

  Nishka departed from the former splendor of Azia-Nocti. She had assured her father she would succeed, no matter the odds. She would inevitably spend the next few days thinking about how she failed her responsibilities.

  Yet, something even more unsettling would keep her awake at night. The murders that plagued Azia-Nocti appalled her. The guards seemed all but helpless to prevent these atrocities, and the city-states were beyond helping each other.

  When she had learned about the crimes in Sepulzer, she felt compelled to do something. She couldn’t abide to see innocent people die. If there was any possible way to prevent these disasters, she had the inner resolve to do whatever she could.

  As if he knew what she was thinking of, Arxu calmly stated, “The slaughter has claimed the temple in Azia-Nocti as well.”

  “Someone needs to stop this!”

  “Who?”

  “I’m going to do something about it.”

  “I’m obligated to protect you.”

  “Then you can help.” Arxu stood transfixed on the sandy road, slightly confused. He observed her departure with his customary nonchalance, but this time it was mingled with uncertainty. With a final glance at Azia-Nocti’s bruised façade, he turned away.

  He drifted to the west, his task as her bodyguard seemingly expended. He did not have a destination in mind, only a general idea of where he wanted to be.

  He approached the jagged mountains protruding above the earth like a blackened spine. He would outrun society and disappear into the desolation. He would seek seclusion in a forgotten place, perhaps the forest by the foothills or a lakeside cavern. As long as he did not fall victim to authorities for a crime he could not remember committing, he would hide.

  Perhaps it was for the best that he couldn’t remember anything. It was punishment enough that he didn’t know who his family and friends were, where he was born, and where he belonged.

  What was this he felt? A twinge of emotion? Regret? He had felt something when Nishka almost died, something beyond rationale. What if he could salvage his memories? Could he apologize to his victims or their families if they were still alive?

  Arxu shut his eyes as he soaked up the spring breeze that tussled his ha
ir. The wind exhaled as if to oppose his journey to the west. He faltered in his next step, skeptical of what lay beyond the border of Eyegad.

  He looked over his shoulder at the woman silhouetted in the distance, soon to be a memory in the back of his mind. Nishka was fading away. The moon glistened above her in the scarlet sky. Arxu’s footsteps ceased as though the pull of the moon arrested him. In truth, something else called out to the Nightwalker.

  He felt inexplicably drawn to Nishka. Further down the road, she slowed in her steps. She glimpsed a familiar Nightwalker returning for her. She smiled at Arxu and proceeded to the north.

  Arxu followed the woman who seemed inextricably bound to him, or rather, he felt bound to her.

  Part II: Nympholepsy

  Chapter 16

  Godless Road was just as uninviting as they remembered. However, Nishka didn’t expect bandits to interrupt their travel today. With the addition of the chaos magician, highwaymen hardly stood a chance against them. For a moment, she was okay with the idea of Hrioshango journeying alongside them… or creeping through the darkness of the canopy in a stalking manner.

  That moment did not last long.

  Hrioshango had managed to find them again after retrieving his enchanted cloak. Nishka reluctantly agreed to let him stay if he used his magick to store their inventory, particularly her father’s merchandise.

  She regarded Arxu, his familiar blue eyes searching for civilization. His indifference never ceased to amaze her. Sometimes she imagined his façade peeling away, revealing hints of an underlying personality. He betrayed his emotions sporadically, whether it was anxiety in the wrinkle of his eyebrows, a quick curve of his lips, or the inflection of marvel in his voice. Perhaps she could tease his personality out one day at a time. Was it possible to repair a man who had been dissected from emotion?