“This won't hurt, Geyrun,” the Dahhak said. “I would like you to pray now. Pray that Moloch forgives you. Let him know you are aware you have angered him by ignoring his benevolence, and you are offering yourself freely as atonement.” He plunged the needle into the bandaged stump of Ko's wrist.
It did, in fact, hurt. It hurt a great deal. He ripped his arm up, screaming at the top of all four of his lungs. The walls shook. The Dahhak fell back, his eyes widened with surprise. The winged demon jumped to his feet, nimble as a Shishi, and lunged for the needle, still impaled into Ko. The plunger hadn't been depressed, not yet vomiting its poison into Ko.
Ko had once heard that those in midst of a life-or-death battle sometimes think of the strangest things. One Shishi had told a tale of being surrounded by angels, but he narrowly escaped. He claimed the whole time he couldn't stop thinking of his mother, and of swinging on the vines that grew on his home world, dodging the light bursts from the sky like it was a game.
Ko thought of humans as the Dahhak threw himself onto him. Ko desperately beat him back with his good arm. He was several times larger than the Dahhak, but the demon was shockingly strong. He thought it was a waste to use humans as slaves. Slavery in general should be done away with, but humans could really be an asset to the Dominion. They weren't killed by the True Light, they healed with amazing speed, and for the most part, they hated the angels just as much as the demons.
Strange thoughts indeed. He threw the Dahhak against the far wall. He smashed against the cabinet he had just stocked, supplies tumbling out. Ko reached for the needle impaled in his stump and gingerly pulled it out. The area around the new wound was sizzling with a blazing pain, like the needle was laced with acid.
Shoal Blood. Deadly on its own, but when it was diluted in water, it became a horrible poison. It's what they used on humans who were no good as meat.
The Dahhak bellowed with anger. His dark scent filled the room. He braced for another rush, but it never came. Ko half turned in his bed to see Uzkiev and Ascot floating there, both of them watching.
Ko and the Dahhak both froze, staring at the newcomers. Relief flooded Ko.
Ascot buzzed forward, his tiny body floating above all of them in the room. He turned back to Uzkiev. “Twenty on the Dahhak.”
Uzkiev snorted. “Only if you give me odds.”
“Not a chance.”
“He only has one hand. And he's never fought a battle in his life.” Ko couldn't believe what he was hearing. His stump burned.
Ascot sighed. “Very well. I'll give you thirty if your handmaid takes it.”
“Done.”
All four of them just stared at each other. The Dahhak shifted uneasily, looking back and forth.
“My Lord,” Ko squeaked. “This Dahhak...”
“Ahh, don't worry about that, Ko,” Uzkiev said. “You can explain all this after you kill him.”
Ascot laughed. The Mite actually bent over in mid-air. He zipped back to Uzkiev's shoulder, whispered something in his ear.
“Are you going to fight or not?” Uzkiev asked the Dahhak. “If you don't, I'll kill you myself, yesss.”
Ascot drew his miniature weapon. “If you lose,” he added. “I'll tell them you were found in an alleyway, being misused by a group of Asag. You begged for it till they split you in half.”
Uzkiev laughed.
I can't believe this.
The Dahhak shrieked, rushing Ko, a bottle in his hand. Ko threw the needle at him, but it sailed harmlessly over his head. Ko rolled as the Dahhak threw the glass. It shattered against the back of the hospice bed as Uzkiev and Ascot laughed and offered encouragement.
Ko hit the floor hard. The smell of burning metal filled the room. He didn't know what was in the glass, but he was glad it hadn't hit him. Ascot floated above him.
“He's still alive,” he called to the Dahhak. “Get him!”
With his good hand, he snatched at the Mite, and to his shock, he caught him in his great fist. Ko fought back the urge to crush the little worm. Instead, he squeezed him just enough that he couldn't move. The struggling Mite pulled his weapon up, and Ko caught it with his thumb, turning it away.
“Unhand me this instant!” Ascot screamed. Uzkiev was whooping with his hissing laughter. The Dahhak jumped from the other side of the bed, and Ko snapped up a kick. The Dahhak grunted and rolled away.
“The Dahhak needs to live,” Ko yelled, trying to stand. He supported himself with his stump, but the pain was too unbearable. Instead, he sat up.
“All right,” Uzkiev hissed. He flipped forward, wrapping his tail around the neck of the still-recovering Dahhak. His muscles contracted and the Dahhak collapsed in a heap, unconscious. “But I really did think you would win, yesss.”
“Has everyone gone mad?” Ko yelled. He had never known an anger like this. “Why did you allow him to continue attacking me?” He knew he shouldn't be saying such things to the Nidhogg, but the words just burst from him.
“Perhaps you should free our small friend,” Uzkiev said, suddenly serious.
Ascot was purple in his grip. He let go.
The Mite burst from his hand, flying up out of Ko's reach. He began screaming at Ko in the native tongue of Mites, a language Ko was glad he didn't understand. For a moment he thought the Mite meant to shoot him.
“Ahh, I wanted to see if you were still able-bodied.” Uzkiev floated forward and patted Ko on the head. Ascot glared at him. “I think you've proven yourself. Let us call the surgeon to see about the poison that may still be in you.”
Ko's stump throbbed and burned like it was on a spit. None of the poison was actually injected into him, but the trace amounts on the needle blade were enough to probably give him a headache for the rest of his contracted servitude. “Yes, My Lord,” he mumbled.
“Now, let me surmise. You made a comment that disparaged their deity, no? The Dahhak can be ... touchy.”
Why didn't you ask before you made your stupid bet? Ko almost asked, but he decided he had cheated luck too many times today. “He knows the whereabouts of the Charun that is being sought. He thought to kill me to keep me from revealing this.”
Ko had never seen the Nidhogg surprised before. It was just for a moment, but it was there. Uzkiev nodded thoughtfully. “A temple, then.”
“Yes,” Ko said, trying to stand once again. Dizziness overtook him. The Dahhak was in a heap on the floor. He spit at him. Anger surged all over again. “But there's more. Much more.”
“We know where these light weapons are now. Ahh, yesss we have even captured some. This absent mid-commander has ceased to be a priority.”
Ko's arm hurt too much for him to be properly frustrated. Where was the damn surgeon? It slowly occurred to him that despite Uzkiev's assurances, neither him or his assistant had yet gone for the doctor.
“If one of you isn't too preoccupied would you please summon the surgeon?” Before he realized what he was saying, he added, “Before I give you cause to need him yourself.”
Uzkiev looked surprised for the second time in so many minutes. Then he smiled as Ascot whispered in his ear. To Ko's astonishment, Uzkiev nodded and left the room, leaving him alone with Ascot and the unconscious would-be assassin.
He regarded the Mite suspiciously. The tiny creature circled around the Dahhak a few times, shaking his head, then zoomed up before Ko. His tiny wings hummed. His red eyes were intent. Ko had never seen the assistant look quite this way before.
“What is this ‘more'?” Ascot asked.
“Perhaps we should wait for his lordship to return before I voice my suspicions.”
The Mite buzzed closer. If Ko wanted, he could easily snatch him out of the air once again. “Tell me now.”
There was something in his voice. Ko despised the shifty little nuisance, but he was ... changed at this moment. Almost mighty.
He told him what he learned from the Dahhak, and how he suspected the Charun was somehow attempting to orchestrate a revolt by the Dahhak followers
of Moloch.
“All of this to avoid capture? It seems a bit excess.”
Ko shrugged. His arm hurt; the pain beginning to spread. The Charun's motivations didn't concern him. She had already caused Ko too much grief for him to care. First with the Overseer, then with Uzkiev, and she was, in a way, responsible for his current predicament. No, he didn't care one bit.
Uzkiev returned with the surgeon in tow. The doctor was ordered to pay no attention to the Dahhak. He was going to be taken care of by a group with a different specialty. The doctor shook his head, poking at the fresh wound in Ko's arm, inciting a string of curses from Ko's mouth that he had learned from the Overseer, but never uttered until now.
Ascot whispered in the ear of Uzkiev, who had that look, the one Ko knew very well. Like he had just found an unwelcome maggot in his food.
“I can repair him, but more of this is going to have to come off,” the surgeon said after a quick examination. He meant his arm.
Ko cursed some more. He was becoming rather adept at it. The surgeon gave him another injection, something that caused him to become very groggy. The saw bit at his arm, but the anesthetic had only dulled his ability to move and think, not the pain. He decided then that he was going to kill this Kostchtchie when he was well enough. And the Charun, too, if he ever got a chance.
It finally occurred to him, just as the pain became too much, that he hadn't laughed, giggled, sniggered, or had any other tic since he had been attacked by the Dahhak. He listened to the sound of his own bone splinter against the teeth of the too-dull saw.
Everything changes, he thought sadly.
* * * *
When Ravi returned to report on the status of the Geyrun's assassination, the boy's face told Ungeo everything she didn't want to hear. The Geyrun still lived, the assassin captured, and he was reportedly “cooperating.” Which meant they were going to kill him and take his brain. It was the worst possible scenario.
They will write a book about me, Ungeo thought angrily. The worst of the Charun: Tales of Ungeo G'sslom.
They had given her one task. One simple task, and she couldn't even manage that.
“Why?” Ungeo had asked earlier at that first meeting with the prelate, when Lothe stepped forward and asked her to arrange the assassination of Ko.
Lothe had looked at the prelate, who nodded after a moment. The grande-commander shrugged. “We have a Geyrun assistant, a Molochite, ready to take over the position. It's important there is an independent source of information on the Nidhogg's staff.”
How ironic, Ungeo thought. This Ko outlives his commander only to be killed because of it. “Okay,” Ungeo said. “Given proper resources, I should be able to arrange it.”
“There's more,” Lothe said. “It is imperative that the assassin not implicate this assembly in the deed, even in death.”
How the bloody hell can I do that? she wondered but didn't say out loud.
“Go now, Charun,” the prelate said. “Attend to your task.” The prelate pulled his hollow wooden stick, called a caduceus, from his robes and shook it twice. The bone dust rose. Ungeo wondered if the dust came from ground bones of just a random serpent, like they did from rectors’ caducei, or if this was the dust of Gollop the mighty serpent, the great wyrm who tried to eat all of eternity until Moloch stopped him. The beast's carcass still existed in the arch-rector's temple, and every millennium a single rib was taken and ground down to fill the caducei of high church officials.
If it was indeed the dust of Gollop, then it was a great honor.
Ungeo bowed to the prelate, walking backwards as was custom when leaving the presence of high church officials. As she left, she caught the stare of the Dahhak queen. Ungeo couldn't quite see her eyes, but she sensed them there, watching.
The doors closed, and suddenly Ungeo felt very afraid.
It was much later, as she awaited word of the assassin's progress, that Ungeo began to question her sanity. Soon after that one and only meeting with the prelate she learned the Geyrun had been injured just before the angels released the Overseers’ beasts. Unfortunately, he would recover.
Ungeo could've silently gone about her role, setting up the assassination without further enmeshing herself in this crusade of the Dahhak. But she began—voluntarily—speaking out at the prayer groups. They respected her more than ever now. It was rumored she had directly challenged the great Pooljab himself to a dance, and he had declined, which was the same as an endorsement for her faith.
Most perplexing of all, Ungeo found herself wishing for the success of the Dahhak in this endeavor. Not in actually seceding from the Dominion or overthrowing the council, but in converting the masses. Their faith was truly a way to superiority, she thought sometimes.
It went against everything she had ever known or believed. The exalted and mighty Charun did not submit to such unworthy prophets. Ungeo said that to herself so many times, the words lost meaning.
It was a conflict like she had never known.
The plan had been Ravi's, mostly. It was brilliant. They discovered a chatty, but rather devout, student of Moloch worked in the hospice in which the unconscious Geyrun was recovering. The most difficult task was convincing the Dahhak this was an act worthy of Moloch, for it was a suicide mission. Once the task was done, the Geyrun's brain was to be melted with an injection of shoal's blood, and afterwards, the Dahhak would give himself a shot directly in the head.
The problem was this particular Dahhak was a little too devout, and he absolutely refused to do this without proof the Geyrun was indeed an infidel. Furthermore, since Ko was unconscious, any assassination attempts would have to wait until not only was he awake, but well enough to adequately defend himself. Both physically and spiritually.
Since they had no other options, they went with this. The would-be assassin spent every free moment completing the preparations for his final journey to his Pri.
Much time passed, and eventually the Geyrun awoke and started his recovery. The uncaptured beasts still ravaged the city, but this sector seemed to be calming. A peace descended upon not just this sector, but on all of the Dominion's presence in Cibola. It seemed this angel campaign was winding down.
The Dahhak started an active recruitment. The hulking, three-legged Asag seemed to be the easiest to entice. True conversion would take time, but they were already discussing the complexities of having several Asag present at temple prayer meetings.
Ungeo clicked her beak now, pulling in a deep breath. The assassination had failed. She had an incredible rage, and she wanted nothing more than to burst forth from the temple, track down this Geyrun, and disembowel him.
“I am cursed!” she raged, knocking Ravi's dancing board to the ground. The pieces scattered across the small room, falling at the feet of her young friend. “It was a good plan! Why did it not work?”
The boy said nothing.
“Cursed,” she repeated. “Cursed.”
Before the rage became overwhelming, she took in another breath. She calmed herself with the wisdom of Moloch.
“The hatred. The rage. Like black fire, it is a tool. Learn to wield it. Don't let it consume you, and you will gain the power to shiver the sky.”
Part 3
The Tower
They found Ashia and the others at the end of the long hallway, digging with their hands to get through a collapsed section of the tunnel, only the light of their helmets guiding them. Having escaped the Pazuzu, they had been set upon by a series of motion-sensing guns, bloodying over half of them. Three had been killed before it was destroyed. The already injured Ashia had taken a shot to her chest and was barely clinging to life when Tamael met her for the first time.
Tamael had never seen an injured Virtue before. It was a terrible thing, like the image on the earlier anima bots, constantly coming out of focus, each jolt of fresh pain sending her figure into chaos. It was clear the others loved her dearly, and Tamael felt their pain.
The sight of the rock crushing down on L
eefa kept replaying itself in Tamael's head. She had reached for the broad-shouldered, gruff angel as the world above began to crumble. She was going to be missed.
And Indigo. The cicatrix bearer had saved her. The human now worked just as hard as the others, along with her companion Dave, carefully grabbing rocks and shuffling them back to the growing pile. The human had pummeled into her so hard, she felt the impact despite her heavy armor, sending them both tumbling into the darkness.
So many implications of that. But Tamael didn't have time to dwell on any of them. They had to keep digging. One rock at a time. They were almost there, but with every heavy rock they moved, the whole hall threatened to come crashing down.
She recognized this place. If the others did, they said nothing. The Hall of Feasts, where the very first humans were welcomed to Cibola with a rare banquet of foods from their worlds. She hadn't been here of course, but everyone knew the story. At one time a long table ran the length of this hallway. The angels had sat to His right, the humans to His left.
The humans had just arrived from the Propylaeum. Confused and bewildered, they were nothing more than animals. Afterwards, when they were taken below to see their new home, they had complained about the size, the subterranean location, the fact that things were expected of them. Much later, when a small group had revolted, it was here in this hall that their deranged leader set out their absurd demands for equality.
This endeavor now was likely as ill-fated as that one.
“Tell me the way,” Tamael asked of the injured Virtue. This sett was different from the others. It had no lower protective wall from the ice that was the core of their world. The cracks within were an unexplored world of their own. Ashia was the only one of them who knew the path. If she died, which was looking more and more likely as every moment passed, they would be condemned.
“There are many twists and turns. I can show you, but it involves burning the directions directly into your memory. I don't know if I could survive that, and even then the directions will be incomplete.”
The Shivered Sky Page 30
