The Empire of the Dead (The Godsblood Trilogy Book 1)

by Phil Tucker

  Sisu studied him, then looked to Ishi. “Who’ve you brought me?”

  “The name’s Acharsis,” he said smoothly. “And this is the lovely if stern Annara, and the rather unfortunately hulking Jarek. We’ve just arrived in Rekkidu after a prolonged absence. We used to be regulars, I suppose, but times have changed. Ishi, here, has said all kinds of impressive things about you, so we asked for an audience.”

  Sisu nodded and sat. He didn’t dismiss his dead.

  Acharsis tried to keep his manner calm and relaxed. The fact that this young man was commanding a dozen of his own dead was impressive, despite his behavior.

  “So, you have come to ask a favor.” Sisu leaned back, tapping his fingers on the stone armrest. “Are you merchants?”

  Jarek snorted.

  “No,” said Acharsis. “Not merchants.”

  “Then you wish to avoid being raised when you die?”

  “You can do that?”

  “Of course. Without leaving a mark that would incriminate your family. An easy service, though it will cost you.”

  “We might discuss that,” said Acharsis, “but that’s not why we came.”

  Sisu looked more interested. “Then what? Are you thieves?”

  “That’s more accurate,” said Acharsis. “Though we only want to steal one thing.”

  “And you want my help in acquiring it.”

  “Precisely. Ishi and Kishtar have both agreed to help. We’re looking to save Annara’s son from Akkodaisis’ ritual. He’s being held in the ziggurat.”

  “You have a son?” Sisu had been glancing at Annara out of the corner of his eye as if he was too shy to look at her full on, but now he did so, and his disappointment was obvious.

  Annara raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

  Poor kid, thought Acharsis. What fantasies did you already have conjured up? “Right. An extraction. We need to break into the ziggurat, steal the boy, and then, well, escape without anybody chasing us. Which some might say is an impossible task, given the deathless and the death watch and the armed dead and all that.”

  “But not you.”

  “No. I think we can do it. We’ve got the element of surprise on our side, as well as an intimate source of knowledge as to the ziggurat’s layout and defenses.”

  “You do?” Sisu looked curious for the first time. “And how is that?”

  With his thumb, Acharsis pointed over his shoulder at Jarek. “Our friend, here, used to live there.”

  “Used to live there?” Sisu hesitated. “A servant?”

  “No,” said Kish. “Not like a servant. That’s Jarek, son of Alok, you fool.”

  Sisu’s surprise was such that Kishtar’s insult went right over his head. “The son of Alok? I thought you were dead.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been hearing that a lot,” said Jarek. “The short answer is, no, I’m not dead.”

  Sisu sat up. “And you’re going to break out one boy? Your ambition is to meager - why not kill Akkodaisis? Reclaim your throne?” He bit his lip in furious thought. “But, then, you’d draw Irella’s ire, wouldn’t you? Her gaze would fall upon you, and you your souls would be harrowed clean from your bodies.”

  “Right,” said Acharsis. “You’re quick on the uptake. That’s why we’re just going to rescue Elu and then fade away, like smoke in the wind.”

  Kish was tapping her foot in impatience. “Are you going to help or not, Sisu? We don’t have all day.”

  “I’m going to ask some more questions first,” he said archly, not looking at her.

  “Wise,” said Ishi. “Very wise.”

  “Such as: what is your plan?”

  “That will depend on whether you join us or not,” Acharsis said, “and what your powers are over the dead. I can tell from your controlling of these twelve that you’re no amateur, but what more can you do?”

  Sisu frowned. “So, you don’t have a plan.”

  Acharsis held on to his smile. “It would be foolish to create one before I found out what tools were at my disposal.”

  “Uh-oh,” Babati said, and stepped back into the shadows.

  “I am no tool,” said Sisuthros, drawing back as if he’d smelled something offensive.

  “What I meant,” said Acharsis, “is that the capabilities at my disposal -”

  “If I am to help you, then I will do so as the leader of this endeavor,” Sisu said. “My goddess is Nekuul, and her blood runs through my veins. She is pre-eminent, and even if your friend is the real Jarek, his god is long dead. My star, on the other hand, is ascending. If I’d stayed in Uros, do you know what my role would have been? The leader of Nekuul’s seekers! So, you want my help? Then you will have it - if you all agree to do as I say.”

  Nobody spoke.

  Jarek put his hand on Acharsis’ shoulder and steered him aside, then stepped up to the base of Sisu’s throne. Jarek was tall enough that he could look the young man in the eyes without having to look up.

  Sisu sat up straighter, and the twelve dead twitched, one of them even taking a half-step forward. Acharsis’ confidence flickered. Just how unstable was this Sisu? Would he order his dead to attack? He’d have guessed no just a moment ago, but now he wasn’t so sure.

  “Son,” said Jarek, his voice low and patient. “You’re a talented godsblood; I’ll give you that. But, then again, Nekuul’s power has grown so that it probably doesn’t take much right now to make the dead dance.”

  “I can do more than that,” said Sisu.

  “Sure. But listen to me. You’re how old? Seventeen?”

  “What of it?”

  “I was ruler of Rekkidu at your age. I’ve spoken with gods. I fought alongside Irella and the Golden Piamat. I drove the Athites from our cities. I’ve killed lakhar and hunted the dream rhinos. Last night, I fought a deathless. Tell me: why should I follow your commands?”

  “Why?” Sisu raised his chin. “Because you may have ruled Rekkidu at my age, but you lost it, didn’t you? Where’ve you been these past twenty years?”

  Acharsis saw Jarek’s shoulders swell slightly. Damn.

  “I was betrayed by Irella,” said Jarek.

  “Right, betrayed by my mother. And I betrayed her. Chalk one mark on my side.” Sisu’s eyes gleamed feverishly. “Your time is past, Jarek. Soon, I’ll be claiming the throne in Uros. Soon, I’ll be in charge. I understand your wanting my help, but if you want it, you’d best bend your knee.”

  Acharsis reached out and took hold of Annara’s wrist. “Get ready to run,” he whispered.

  Kish turned to Jarek. “Do you want to know just how he’s using his great and terrible powers? After he gave up digging a tunnel to the docks, for who knows what reason, he started hiring himself out to some shady merchants.”

  “Silence!” Sisu rose to his feet.

  “No,” Ishi said, stepping forward. She held Sisu’s gaze until he wilted and sat back down. “Kish is being abrasive, but she’s on to something. You’ve ignored my advice, just as Kish has, though in different ways. You’re wrong to style yourself as you’re doing. Wrong to demand this kind of respect when all you do is make coin with your power.”

  “I’m building a financial base,” Sisu said.

  “Really?” said Kish, turning to them. “He goes out and subverts the dead so they’ll divert grain deliveries to his clients’ warehouses. Nobody’s the wiser. That’s what he does. And, sure, he gets paid, but honestly, is that the action of a mighty, up-and-coming ruler?”

  “Enough,” said Sisu, raising his hand as green flame began to drip from it. “You try my patience for the last time, Kishtar.”

  Kishtar pulled her hammer from her belt.

  The dead immediately lurched forward.

  Jarek cursed and pulled out his hammer.

  “Enough!” Acharsis said loudly. “More than enough. Everybody, shut the hell up. You,” he said, pointing at Sisu, “order your dead to step back, now. And you –” He turned to Kish. “Apologize to Sisuthros. Now.”

  “I don�
��t take commands from you,” said Sisu.

  “And I said nothing I need to apologize for,” said Kish.

  “Listen to me, and listen well,” Acharsis said.

  “What we’re about to do here involves the gods themselves. We’re going to spit in Irella’s eye and defy Nekuul. We’re going to slip into Akkodaisis’ ziggurat on the eve of his great ceremony and steal Annara’s son right out from under him. This is no joke. We’re not challenging sailors to fights or conniving with merchants. We’re risking our lives, our souls, and perhaps the last chance this city has to show a spark of independence in the face of crushing oppression and misrule.”

  Acharsis’ words hung heavy in the air. Both Sisu and Kish stared at him in leaden silence.

  “To do this,” he went on, “to attempt this impossible feat, will require a miracle. And, since the nine gods are dead, we’re going to have to do the next best thing, which is to pull the very best, the most talented godsbloods left, and forge a team that will operate with such smoothness and such professional skill that the deathless themselves will be left clueless as to what just took place.”

  He shook his head. “We hoped you two could help. We hoped you’d recognize the worthiness of this cause, and how it’s about more than just Elu. How we would be striking a blow for every godsblood who’s died on Nekuul’s bloody altar. How we’d be avenging their murders. How we’d be showing Irella and the rest of the empire that the fight’s not over, and giving the people - who are apparently starving to death up there under her rule - something to inspire them, something to bring them hope.”

  Acharsis let his words sink in before he said, “Now, if you want to be part of that, we’re glad to have you. But if you’re going to bicker like children and make pathetic demands, if you’re going to think for one second that you’re the equal of Jarek, Annara and myself in terms of experience and strategy, if you think you can demand respect instead of earning it, you’ve got another think coming.

  “So, here’s my offer. Take it or leave it. Join us. Be part of our team. Help us make history. Help us make a difference. But if you join us, it’ll be as part of the team, not leading it. Am I clear?”

  Sisu glanced at Kish, who had slipped her hammer back into her belt. “All right,” he said quietly.

  “You know I’m in,” Kish said, her voice still tight with anger.

  “Good.” Acharsis wanted to continue to berate them, but reined himself in.

  Jarek clapped quietly. “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. The son of Ekillos, everybody.”

  Sisu gaped. “The son of…?”

  Acharsis managed a shaky grin. “Now, Sisu. Let’s start from the beginning. Why don’t you share with us exactly what you’re capable of?”

  Sisu gave his head a little shake, then gestured at his dead. They lowered their weapons and stepped back into the shadows. Then, collecting himself, he smiled.

  “Exactly what I’m capable of? Prepare to be amazed.”

  Chapter 10

  The sun was broiling hot, the sky a sweltering and depthless void of cerulean blue. No breeze stirred the towering palms where they ran in a line outside the walls of the ziggurat complex. Even the street vendors were listless, their cries little more than croaks as they walked up and down the line of petitioners who sought admittance through the main gates at the end of the Way of Stone.

  Acharsis felt sweat running down his back, a constant prickle that was only relieved when the thick black folds of his stolen robe pressed against his flesh. It had been surprisingly easy to proffer a master of Nekuul and his adept some drugged wine as they walked down the Way of Stone; when they had collapsed two blocks farther, they’d simply pulled them into an alley, relieved them of their robes and left them bound and unconscious in the shadows.

  Somehow Annara looked completely composed as she stood by his side, serene and dry. She didn’t even fan herself. She wore her adepts robes with a natural elegance that he couldn’t hope to emulate.

  “Here,” he said as he waved a small coin in the face of a wiry youth with a tray of coconuts piled on a small wicker cart. “Hurry. Before I die.”

  The youth hurried over and lopped off the head of a coconut, jabbed a reed into the revealed hollow within and handed it over. Acharsis took a deep pull. The coconut water was as warm as piss, but it was sweet, and it eased his parched throat.

  “I’ve got say, Annara. You make going on nigh suicidally dangerous reconnaissance missions look like something you do every day.” He extended the coconut to her.

  She glanced down at it and shook her head. “I would do it every day. If I had to.”

  Acharsis took another sip. “I don’t doubt it.” Her tone had cut through his paltry attempt at humor. He tried to think of a follow-up jest and gave up. “I’m glad I came by when I did,” he said at last. “To Eruk. To be there when you needed help going after Elu.” He scratched his chin. “Seventeen years I stay away, and then I come back just in time to be of help. Maybe you’re right about the god’s taking notice.”

  “I know I’m right,” she said, eyes slightly narrowed as she studied the gate ahead of them. Their line shuffled forward. With the grand ritual approaching, the number of visitors, merchants and laborers entering the complex was a flood, and the sound of industry within was a constant clamor that echoed over the complex’s high walls.

  He thought she’d leave it at that, but then she seemed to struggle with something, pursing her lips. Her hands, he saw, were closed into fists. “But even if I was alone. If you and Jarek and the gods weren’t by my side. I’d still try.”

  “I know,” said Acharsis. “I know you would.”

  “No,” she said. “You don’t.” The words were hard but not cruelly spoken. “You weren’t raised in a Scythian temple, gifted by parents you never got to meet. Left to wonder about them your whole life. Wonder why they gave you away. Who they were. Who you are.”

  Acharsis decided to stay silent.

  “Your whole life has been defined by your relationship to your father. Mine has been the opposite. A void. One that I swore, when I had Elu, that he would never have to experience.”

  Still she stared straight ahead. “One of the first things you asked me when you returned was how I did it. How I didn’t go mad, living in Eruk all these years. I’ll tell you. It was easy. Kenu was a good man, a good companion, but Elu - Elu was my everything.”

  Annara finally looked across at him. “He’s my only son, Acharsis. I love him in a way that you will never understand. Love him a way that hurts. For sixteen years I’ve watched him grow and marveled that he was mine. I feel his loss in my very soul.” She turned to regard the ziggurat where it loomed over the wall. “And they want to kill him on an altar to please some undead monster? Oh no. Not while I live and breathe.”

  Acharsis felt a chill at the cold surety of her words. Wondered if he had ever felt anything as intensely, as deeply as she did for her son. Their son. Passion, yes, he’d burned so brightly that his ardor had illuminated the heavens. But true love? A love that hurt? He was silent as they inched forward from then on.

  The group before them was ushered in, and then it was their turn to step up to the Gates of Stone. The gates loomed massively overhead, painted in the drabbest of blacks and grays, a great arch under which even a dream rhino could have passed without difficulty. Irella’s stylized face was depicted on huge vertical banners that draped down each side of the entrance, exemplifying a serene, almost cruel beauty that Acharsis knew was no lie.

  “State your business in the temple,” said the guard leader.

  He was a lean, weathered individual, old enough to have fought in the Purges when he was a youth, with a sharp eye and a perpetual scowl. No fool, this one, thought Acharsis, and he adopted a cringing smile.

  “Second year adepts of Nekuul, sir,” he said, fighting for a tone that wavered between nervousness and brash arrogance. “We were sent out by Guidance Yesu and are now returning.”

 
The guard captain eyed Acharsis warily and then turned to regard Annara.

  A husky man to his left let out a low whistle. “Since when are the Nekuulites employing such beautiful adepts, hey?”

  “Mind your tongue,” snapped the captain.

  Then he lowered his spear point and used it to push open Annara’s hood, revealing her features. She’d gone pale, Acharsis realized, and for good reason: if the man revealed any more of her neck, he’d see the tattoos sacred to Scythia.

  “Good sir,” Acharsis said, stepping forward with a smile and gently pushing the spear away. “She was the reason for my mission. Master Yesu finds these exciting times quite trying, and is in need of some… relaxation, if you know what I mean. Yisha, here, has been promoted to the rank of adept due to her very particular skills.”

  Annara pinched her hood closed at the neck and raised her chin, eying the guards with cool disdain.

  “Well,” the guard captain said at last, clearly captivated. “I suppose the Guidance is a man of flesh and blood like the rest of us. Now, Yisha. When you’re done pleasing the divine Yesu, stop by our guard house on your way out.” His smile was a disturbing blend of lust and coldness. “I’ve a mind to learn more about your ‘particular skills’.”

  The other death watch guards hooted and then went silent when Annara stepped forward and placed her hand on the captain’s chest.

  “Spoken like a big man,” she said in a shadowy purr that sent a shiver straight down Acharsis’ spine. Her hand moved down the captain’s armor, past his belt, and then cupped his jewels rather roughly. The captain grunted and stood taller. “Oh,” Annara said with a pout. “How disappointing. Not so big, after all.”

  Then she was past him and striding between the Gates of Stone, and the guards were laughing as the captain barked orders for them to simmer down.

  Acharsis hurried to follow Annara, catching her at the font where she was cleansing her feet with purified water. “What part of ‘low profile’ did you not understand?” he hissed as he caught up with her.

  “I was a temple priestess of Scythia for half my life,” she said. “Trust me. Now, he’ll do everything in his power to avoid me and to keep his men from mentioning our entrance. Otherwise, he’d have been on perpetual lookout.”