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

by Phil Tucker

  “All true,” Acharsis said, nodding in a benign manner.

  “And Sisu’s about to escape his room and find nobody there to help him,” Kish continued. “Jarek’s being held for sacrifice, and we can’t get to Elu.” Kish lay back and gripped her forehead in both hands. “We’re done for. It’s all over. Why did we think we could outwit your demon?”

  “Like I said, I’ll admit the situation is challenging.” Acharsis stared intently at the rough stone ceiling only a yard above them.

  Kish rolled abruptly onto her side. He could feel the intensity of her glare. “We can’t escape.”

  “No, but we don’t want to escape at this point.” He held up a hand to forestall her response. “We’re not abandoning our friends or Elu.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Annara asked. He had to admire how controlled her voice was.

  “Sort of. The rudiments of one. We have to discard every element of our old plan. It’s dead. We can’t sneak Elu out of here, leaving Jarek behind to face some grand and defiant death. Trying to fit our new reality into that framework is doomed to failure. So, we start fresh.”

  He sensed Annara and Kish exchanging glances.

  “Acharsis,” said Annara. “You’re not making sense. Did you hit your head?”

  “Probably. If we can’t escape, then we’re left with one option: confrontation. We have to destroy Akkodaisis and overthrow his forces.”

  “He hit his head,” Annara said to Kish.

  “Assume for just a moment that I’m not mad. Who in our group has the ability to destroy Akkodaisis and retake the city?”

  “No one?” asked Kish.

  “Right. Jarek.”

  “But he’s bound, without any power, and he’s being held by seekers and deathless and who knows what else. He’s going to be sacrificed in a few hours, and even if we did free him, he doesn’t have his old power.” Kish sounded bewildered. “He could barely fight off two deathless, much less everyone!”

  Acharsis forced himself to rise to one elbow, grimacing as his leg pulsed sharp pain through his body. “Look: Jarek is all potential. He has the capacity to be a nearly unstoppable force if we can get the people of Rekkidu to believe in Alok once more. That’s our only hope for getting out of this mess.”

  “How do we do that from inside the ziggurat? It’s impossible,” said Annara.

  A faint voice responded. “Not impossible. He is about to step onto the greatest stage in the city.”

  “Ishi!” Kish and Annara moved over to her.

  “Yes, yes, I’m alive, though I’m not particularly happy about it. My whole body feels like a clay tablet that’s been stepped on.” Her voice was reedy with pain. “Don’t loom over me like that.”

  Acharsis closed his eyes for a moment as he breathed a prayer of thanks to Ekillos. “She’s right. Jarek’s going to be sacrificed before the entire city. So, what we do is this: we unlock his manacles, and then, when the right moment comes, he rises up and strikes Akkodaisis down… before the whole city.” He couldn’t help but grin again. “Just wait and see what that does to the people’s faith in him.”

  “Ishi,” he said then. “You helped us escape our first deathless through Ninsaba’s powers. Can you call for her aid again?”

  “Can I? Perhaps. Do I want to? No.” She stirred, tried to rise, and sank back with a gasp.

  Annara placed a hand on the old woman’s brow. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad enough,” said Ishi. “My walking days are over.”

  “One last time,” said Acharsis. “Can you obscure us long enough to get us to the third floor?”

  Kish, who had moved close to Ishi, whipped around to glare at Acharsis. “She’s dying,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Can’t you see that?”

  “Yes,” said Ishi. “Maybe. I don’t know how long I have. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Thank you,” said Acharsis.

  He sought the right words, something grave and suitable, something that would do justice to the horror of their situation, the unfairness of the world, and the sacrifice Ishi was prepared to make, but nothing came. Nothing that didn’t sound trite or glib.

  “Let’s get ready. Kish, you carry Ishi. Annara, you’re going to have to help me. We’ll swim across to the door, then place our trust in Ninsaba.”

  “Didn’t you hear me?” Kish’s tone was almost pleading. “She’s dying. We can’t move her. We can’t ask -”

  “It’s all right, Kish,” Ishi said, reaching up to pat her cheek. “It’s all right. If it’s my time, then I’ll go gladly to Nekuul’s realm. This has been my life. If it’s ending, let me end it doing something meaningful.”

  Kish grasped Ishi’s hand and pressed it to her cheek.

  Acharsis rolled over slowly and slid himself into the water. Its surface was slick with something akin to oil. He was glad it was too dark to make out.

  His leg hung loose beneath him in the water, and he had to fight to not move it. He pushed a body away from him, and then looked back to the others. “Ready?”

  “Yes,” said Ishi. “Let me pray.”

  She closed her eyes and pressed her thumbs to her forehead. Her lips moved, and a soft mutter filled the air. The darkness seemed to flutter, as if curtains of black cloth were forming out of the gloom, descending upon them and cloaking them in a deeper night.

  “Now,” whispered Ishi. “Hurry.”

  Kish entered the water, and Annara lowered Ishi’s frail form onto the young woman’s back. A moment later, Annara was beside Acharsis, urging him to turn over so she could hook a hand beneath his arm and pull him through the water.

  They pushed off, and Acharsis gazed up, fighting to keep his head above water. He allowed his broken leg to trail behind him and did his best to ignore the bodies and parts that bumped up against him.

  The torchlight grew brighter, the whispered voices of the guards grew louder, and then he heard the sound of Kish rising up out of the water as she climbed the steps toward the doorway. His whole body ached in anticipation, waiting for yells of surprise and outrage - but none came.

  Annara’s languid strokes stopped as she stood and turned him around. He saw Kish moving up the steps, Ishi cradled in her arms, insinuating herself between the guards, who ignored her.

  “Come on,” Annara whispered, and he placed his arm around her shoulders and bit back a hiss of pain as he hopped up the stairs, dragging his leg behind him. Despite the chill, he felt cold sweat break out over his whole body, and he focused exclusively on the hallway beyond, ignoring everything but the steps and his breathing.

  There were four guards, but they were leaning against opposite walls, engaged in idle chatter. Acharsis knew he should listen in and try to gleam some information, but the world was roaring in his ears. Slowly, he shuffled past them, Annara by his side, and then they were through.

  Kish was gazing down at Ishi, her emotions and pain plain to see. “She’s fading.”

  “Hurry, then,” said Acharsis. “Third floor. We have to find Sisu. Go.”

  Their climb took place in something akin to a fever dream. Ninsaba’s blessing clothed them in spectral darkness, a darkness that the death watch guards and even the dead didn’t notice, and they stumbled and limped their way past countless guards.

  But Acharsis knew that each passing moment brought them closer to the end of their luck, to the moment when Ishi would fall into unconsciousness once more, revealing them for all to see. So, he bit down on his lower lip and struggled on, hobbling and leaning on Annara, gasping and sweating as he climbed the steps.

  The hallways danced with torchlight. Voices echoed down their length. Stairs loomed and swayed like palm trees in a strong wind. Sweat burned in his eyes. His leg felt as if it had been dipped in fire, each knock of his boot against the edge of a step sending ripples of nausea and agony through him.

  “I love playing the hero,” he gasped to Annara when she paused at the top of a flight of steps. “Always have.”

 
“This is the third floor,” she whispered. “Where now?”

  Acharsis raised his head and looked around blearily. Everything looked alike. “Center of the ziggurat.”

  Kish was standing nearby, with Ishi’s head lolling in the crook of her arm. “She’s passed out,” she said, her voice taut.

  Acharsis looked around them. He couldn’t see the curtains of night. Were they plainly visible to everyone once more? “Caution, then. We’ve done what we can. Either the nine dead gods will bless us from beyond the grave, or we’re fucked. Come on. Let’s pray we’re on time.”

  Sisu should have made a beeline for Jarek once he had escaped, and then, after liberating Jarek, he should come to find them where the seekers would be staying on the ground floor. Should they have waited for him below? Acharsis wondered. It would have saved him having to climb all these damn steps. But it was too late to think about that now.

  He listened as best he could as they moved forward.

  “Left,” he whispered. “The godsblood chamber is to the left.”

  Kish was in the lead. She peered around the corner, and then her whole body tensed. Acharsis felt a wave of alarm push back his fogginess. Guards? Had she been spotted?

  “Sisu!” Her whisper was barely audible, and he was only a few paces from her. She cast around, then set Ishi carefully against the wall and drew a coin from her pouch. Leaning back around the corner, she threw it and drew back.

  “He’s crouched in a corridor entrance,” she said with her back to the wall. “Looking miserable.”

  Relief like sweet waters suffused Acharsis, and when the pale youth came hurrying into view, he nearly groaned.

  “What’s happened?” Sisu asked, crouching beside them. “Jarek’s being guarded by real seekers? I couldn’t get close! And you! I heard you were dead? Or gone?”

  “Long story,” said Acharsis. “We don’t have time.”

  “Ishi?” Sisu moved next to the old woman. “Ishi!”

  Kish placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “She’s in bad shape.”

  Sisu didn’t know about his demon, Acharsis realized. About their decision to proceed despite knowing they were doomed. “Can you hide us from the dead?”

  “I - yes. As long as you’re close to me.” Sisu looked up at Acharsis, wild-eyed. “Do we get Elu out now?”

  “No,” Acharsis said. “Sorry, Annara. There’s no point. We need to get to Jarek.”

  The sound of footsteps rang out, and Acharsis pressed back against the wall moments before a group of four dead soldiers marched around the corner. He scrabbled at his hip for a weapon, but he’d lost it long ago. In that moment of blank terror, he stared at the dead’s withered faces only to feel a hand squeeze his arm.

  “I told you,” said Sisu. “They’ll ignore you as long as you’re with me.”

  The dead marched on, took a turn, and were gone.

  “But what of the death watch?” asked Annara.

  “That, I can’t help you with,” said Sisu.

  “You’ll have to. Ishi worked a miracle getting us this far. You’ll have to bluff our way to Jarek’s side. Here, take Ishi’s robes. Hurry.”

  This was madness. It was a plan filled with so many elements dependent on luck that Acharsis felt a sense of liberation. Much of this was outside of his control, which meant he almost didn’t feel responsible for the outcome. He was throwing the dice and sitting back to see what numbers came up. All it would take was for one of many factors to go wrong, and they were done for.

  Not that things had been going well for them thus far.

  “Ready?”

  Sisu smoothed down his sodden black robes with obvious distaste and nodded. Kish lifted Ishi into her arms, and Annara wrapped her arm around Acharsis’ waist. They moved forward, Sisu leading the way with confidence. The dead sentries they passed ignored them.

  Then they reached the steps leading to the fourth level, and a group of death watch guards guarding the stairwell turned to scrutinize them.

  Sisu lifted his chin and marched forward, raised his hand and gave the guards a sign whose import escaped Acharsis.

  The guards stared at the group, clearly taken aback.

  It was a fine calculus. Would their inherent fear and respect for seekers stem their words? Would their curiosity compel them to speak? Would Sisu’s confidence allay their suspicions? Would their lack of manacles cause alarm?

  Acharsis hung his head and did his best to appear defeated. It didn’t take much effort. Shuffling and limping, he passed the guards, and then gazed up the broad steps with dismay.

  “You,” said Sisu. “And you. Help this prisoner up the steps. Hurry.”

  Acharsis stared at the steps. Waited. He imagined a dice spinning on its corner, round and round.

  Hands reached under his arms, disengaging him from Annara. Two men flanked him, one hesitant, the other unnecessarily rough. Acharsis resisted the urge to give them his wry thanks, then grunted as they began to haul him up the steps. It was all he could do to put his good foot underneath him as they climbed, hopping and gasping as his broken leg knocked against the stone.

  When they reached the fourth level, Sisu strode forward without dismissing Acharsis’ escorts. This floor was busier, which strangely made it safer; everyone who noticed them assumed that someone else would have called them out if they shouldn’t have been there. They marched quickly down two hallways and then climbed a fifth set of stairs.

  “Very good. Return to your posts,” Sisu said once they had reached the top.

  Acharsis’ guards bowed deeply and hurried back down the steps.

  “Now,” Sisu said quietly. “What, by Nekuul’s withered paps, is our plan?”

  “Jarek’s room,” said Acharsis. “Get us there.”

  “And then?”

  “Then?” Acharsis laughed, though it was more of a wheeze. “Then we’re going to take out the seekers.”

  “Oh,” Sisu said, blinking as if he had been hit on the head. “Of course. How foolish of me to ask. And how are we going to do that?”

  “Mostly luck,” Acharsis admitted. “And some of your talent. Can you take control of the dead as we pass them?”

  “Yes,” said Sisu. “I can. But even a dozen armed dead won’t stand a chance against seekers.”

  “Just do it. It won’t be just the dead we’ll be throwing against them.”

  “What else?” asked Annara.

  Acharsis looked at Kish. “We’ve got a godsblooded Scythian to add to the mix. Ready to release some aggression?”

  Kish nodded. “Ready.”

  “Then, let’s go. Lead the way, Sisu.”

  It wasn’t far to the warded room. A large bronze-bound door stood at the end of the hall, its surface covered with eldritch runes. They passed six dead guards, all of whom fell in behind their group without hesitation. It was unnerving to hear the guards’ solid tread behind him, and Acharsis was just beginning to feel cautiously optimistic when another patrol stepped out of a room to their right.

  A deathless was walking at their fore.

  Both groups froze.

  “Who are you?” asked the deathless, his voice like the winter wind.

  Sisu had shrunk back half a step. Acharsis wanted to push him forward, to do something to bolster his courage, but any action would betray them altogether. It was all on Sisu.

  “I am Seeker Omash,” Sisu said, his voice quavering. “Move aside.”

  The deathless quirked his head to one side, then the other, his mask gleamed in the torchlight. It was exquisitely formed. The alabaster curves were inlaid with black lines like smoke rising from an extinguished candle; its eye sockets were pitch dark, its mouth a slit. It was elegant, refined, ineffably cruel.

  The deathless looked past Sisu at the rest of them. “Where are you taking these people, Seeker Omash?”

  “You question me?” Sisu drew himself up. “Should I drag you back to Uros to have your loyalties examined?”

  Acharsis held back
a wince. That was the wrong approach.

  “Let us summon Seeker Sillush,” the deathless said.

  “Move aside,” Sisu said, the tone of his voice growing slightly more shrill.

  “Do you refuse to come?”

  Acharsis saw the violence coming a second before it erupted. He bit down the urge to cry out a warning, a cry that would only summon more guards, and went instead to haul Sisu back out of harm’s way.

  The deathless had managed to draw half of his sword when he froze.

  Sisu had raised his hand, fingers curved into twitching claws, and was holding it before the deathless’ mask.

  Slowly, ever so slowly, the deathless resumed drawing his blade. Another inch slid free.

  “Undeath in dying, death through liberation, soul corrupted and safeguarded, vouchsafed by our mistress and everlasting empress, corruption abstained, flesh atemporal, eyes that are closed, soul that is pinned, mind that is flayed, tongue that is slit.” Sisu leaned forward as if into a strong wind, one hand moving to hover over the deathless’ brow. “Body adumbrate, spirit harrowed by darkness, I compel you by Nekuul’s dread majesty to kneel.”

  The deathless’ frame shivered. He drew his blade another inch, and then, like a dockside building collapsing in jerks into the water, he lowered down to one knee and pushed his blade back into its scabbard.

  “By Scythia’s red sword,” breathed Kish. “Sisu!”

  The young Nekuulite kept his hand outstretched, his focus locked on the deathless staring up at him. “Hurry. I can’t control him much longer.”

  Acharsis began to hobble down the hall. “Come! Bring him to the warded room! Now!”

  As one, they hurried toward the bronze-bound door.

  “This is what we’re going to do,” Acharsis gasped, hopping forward, one hand on the wall. “Sisu, go in first with the dead and the deathless. Talk for a moment, tell them something bizarre to throw them off-guard, then attack. Kish, come in right behind them. Do what you do best. Annara and I will try to free Jarek.”

  Sisu nodded and took hold of the doorhandle. He took a deep breath and then hauled it open, stepping inside immediately, the deathless at his heels. The dead soldiers followed them, filing into the small room.