At the same time, Uldyssian sensed that he was not alone. However, whatever stood with him was not any mortal being. It was not, he knew, even alive in any normal sense.
And this close, Uldyssian understood that it was demonic in origin.
He had slain demons before, but never had he thought what might happen to them after they were dead. He had supposed that they simply ceased to be. Yet, what Uldyssian faced was more akin to a ghost or angry spirit, not a living demon.
How was that possible?
That was not important, though. Protecting Serenthia was. “You’ll leave her be!” he abruptly growled, standing. “You’ll leave them all be!”
There was a feeling of immense bitterness and hatred…but not aimed directly at Uldyssian. For him, there was more of a sense of irritation, as if he was merely in the way from what needed to be done.
He decided to become more than that to the angry essence. Staring at the trees before him, Uldyssian pointed.
The jungle exploded, trees collapsing and bits of plant raining down on everything save Uldyssian. Where once the landscape had blocked his way, now a perfect, oval path lay open.
And at the end of it, just visible, was a stone structure tilted at a precarious angle. The roof—once angled, Uldyssian thought—had been crushed in as if by a huge fist. The windows—three in all—were odd in their design, having five sides to them. It appeared as if the building had been carved from stone the color of bone…the same stone as the fragment of face.
Tomo had severely miscalculated the distance of the ruins from Uldyssian and the edyrem. They had virtually been on the very doorstep.
Uldyssian squinted. Near the left side, the side from which the structure tilted away, was a small gap in the ground that he realized was another window. If that was the case, then at least another floor lay buried beneath. That bespoke of not only the great age of the building—for it must have taken centuries to bury the rest—but also some powerful catastrophe that had initially befallen the area.
Every muscle taut, Uldyssian closed in on the building. Tomo had described it as a place with markings all but worn away by the elements, but to the former farmer’s heightened senses, there were still symbols and illustrations quite evident on the face. What the language was, he did not know, but the images were at least somewhat recognizable. Many looked as if they were of the same ethereal female, only now on a few she was accompanied by a tall, almost menacing figure. Yet, between the pair there was no sign of menace…but something more resembling love.
The two never looked quite the same in any relief, but there was just enough to make Uldyssian certain it was always the original duo. Recalling how easily Lilith could wear other guises, he finally assumed that, if these were anything like her, they probably had a thousand shapes from which to choose. These had likely just been favorites.
At that momenet, a voice whispered in Uldyssian’s ear, but its words were unintelligible. He hesitated, then took a step forward.
An image flashed through his head. A beauteous woman with wings—of fire?
The face had looked familiar, but only after a moment did he recall it as the one from the reliefs and the shattered carving. None of the works had done justice to what he had just seen, though…and again Uldyssian knew that even the vision had only shown him a shadow of her true glory.
Uldyssian took a cautious step forward…only to be met by a second vision. Here was the winged woman with the male who, while strikingly handsome, had skin of absolute white and two ice-blue orbs without pupils. They stood together in what was clearly a scene of deep affection, despite obvious differences between them.
Again came the whisper, the words no more understandable than before. Suspecting what would happen next, Uldyssian nonetheless moved on.
It was the unearthly couple again…but now the winged woman lay torn to shreds on the ground. The male, his legs ruined and his back cut open so deep that he should have been dead, crawled toward her. A green ichor poured from his wounds. He bared teeth that were as sharp as those of the river reptiles. The male pounded the ground in growing rage and the tears dropping from his face sizzled when they touched anything else.
Behind them, fallen at the angle that he had first seen it, was the white structure…all four stories of it. Something had crushed in the roof, as Uldyssian had already noted, and then had demolished the base on the right as well. The landscape beyond was also in ruins, but in place of the jungle, trees akin to those of which Uldyssian was familiar from Seram dominated…or had until their destruction.
The vision…the longest of all…faded. As Uldyssian shook his head to clear it, he felt the presence that he had been combatting suddenly reach far past him…for Serenthia.
Recalling himself, Uldyssian sought some manner by which to redraw the thing’s attention to himself. On a hunch, he eyed the ancient building. It did not take much of his power to start the edifice shaking. Bits of stone quickly began breaking off.
But no sooner had he started than he was battered to the ground by what could only be described as pure rage. Uldyssian cried out from pain, realizing that he had obviously underestimated the malevolent force’s determination. In his head, he heard howling and more words he could not understand. There was also a sensation of terrible loss, which under the onslaught, did not in any way cause him to sympathize with his attacker. Uldyssian had no idea what had provoked the spirit, wraith, or whatever it was, only that he had to stop it from hurting Serenthia…and him, too.
Straining, Uldyssian lifted his head. Through his tearing eyes, the land took on a surreal effect. In it, he almost imagined that he saw the male figure—a demon, he felt sure—standing over the ruins like a protective and enraged guardian.
And a moment later, that guardian reached a giant hand toward him.
It did not take imagination to know what might happen if that hand enveloped Uldyssian. The human focused on shielding himself.
But the giant vanished, replaced by a savage onslaught of broken branches, loose stones, and more…the refuse of Uldyssian’s own earlier action to clear the path. The pieces struck at him from all sides, guided by such force that they pressed closer and closer despite the human’s tremendous efforts. The jagged ends of branches scraped the air within an inch of his face. Rocks flung past Uldyssian’s eyes at a speed far greater than that of the swiftest bird and more than enough to crack a skull. He felt the ground below shake up and down, as if something beneath sought to reach up and take him…
He had demanded that the demonic essence pay heed only to him and now Uldyssian had been granted that demand. All he had to do now was survive…if possible.
But if he did not, then surely it would pursue Serenthia again. Uldyssian had to assume that, in its madness and outrage, the demon had somehow left some part of itself behind after it should have died. That part now evidently wanted Serenthia to replace its lost mate.
He had to end this. If Lucion, a powerful demon, had been unable to stop him, then surely Uldyssian could defeat this undead presence.
Again, he concentrated on the ruins. They seemed a distinct link to the demon. Forcing one foot forward after the other, Uldyssian tried not to notice how much closer the attacking fragments got despite his efforts…not even when one branch caught him over the brow, leaving a minute but telling trail of blood that he had to blink away while never losing sight of his own goal.
The ancient building shook anew, this time harder than ever. A portion of the right wall cracked off, sending what little remained of the roof into the trees. One of the windows lost all definition as portions of the border crumbled.
The voice shrieked in Uldyssian’s head. Something grasped his ankle, jarring Uldyssian’s attention despite his best efforts.
A fleshless hand—human-looking save for the fact that it had four digits and long, long nails—tore at his skin. Only then did it flash through Uldyssian’s mind that the male figure in the visions had had hands just so. A demon’s ha
nds.
A second hand thrust out of the soil, this one still covered by a bit of ragged skin as pale as the bone. Uldyssian pulled away from the first, only to fall backward over some unseen obstacle.
Out of the ground burst a misshapen thing, the demon who was and was not dead. His bones were not bones as humans knew them, for they were segmented differently and what should have been the rib cage was solid. It amazed Uldyssian that this demon had bones at all—the hideous beast Gulag apparently having none—but his ilk seemed to come in a monstrous variety with no two alike.
The head tilted at one angle and the jaw hung slack. There was nothing handsome about the creature anymore, the carrion eaters—a centipede made a hasty retreat into an eye socket—still working after so long.
Then, to Uldyssian’s greater surprise, Mendeln—whom he had assumed had wisely stayed with the rest—stepped past him. There was an unsettling aura about his brother.
Mendeln stood before the macabre creature, arms spread wide. He shouted something in a language that Uldyssian did not understand…but suddenly realized was close in tone to what the demon had been spouting.
The ghoulish figure hesitated. Although the eyes were gone, he gave every indication of staring at Mendeln in something approaching surprise.
But if the demon radiated surprise, so, too, did Mendeln, who clearly expected something more to happen. He shouted out another word, one that, despite being unknown to Uldyssian, sent chills down the older brother’s spine.
This had more of an effect, but still clearly not quite what Mendeln had hoped for. The macabre figure teetered like a drunken fighter, then righted himself. The sense of menace grew, but also one of uncertainty, as if the demon was not quite sure what to do, either.
“He still lives…” murmured Mendeln more in fascination than anything. “No…he clings between life and death fueled by a desire for revenge…and a loss so great he still cannot accept it…”
Uldyssian did not care for the reason, only that they had to stop the fiend. Steeling himself, he glanced at the ruined structure yet again.
The walls cracked apart. The building let out a groan…and finally crumbled much as the temple in Toraja had.
But even then, the demon did not fall.
Uldyssian rose, but before he could prepare anything more, Mendeln put out a hand to stop him.
“Wait! See!”
Suddenly ignoring the intruders, the skeletal figure slowly turned toward the rubble. He raised his monstrous face skyward and let out a roar that Uldyssian recognized as deep anguish.
A small object shot up from near Uldyssian and Mendeln. It flew directly into one of the demon’s outstretched hands.
It was the shattered female face.
The demon held the sculpture up and the empty hand reached to caress the piece…and then, to the astonishment of the brothers, both simply faded away.
Expecting some trick, Uldyssian leapt forward. Yet he could now barely sense the demon’s presence. It was as if the creature had retreated beyond the mortal plane.
“He has gone back to that place between places,” Mendeln muttered. “It is over.”
“But why did it begin? What stirred that thing to life—or whatever you’d call that?”
His brother shrugged. “As I said. Vengeance…and loss.”
Uldyssian recalled the visions that he had had about the otherworldly couple, both so distinctively different from one another. A demon and…and an angel, perhaps?
But that was ridiculous. Uldyssian could not imagine a more unlikely scenario. He dismissed the notion, more concerned with another aspect of the situation. “Serenthia. She’s safe now, right?”
“It would seem so. You protected her well, brother.”
That reminded Uldyssian of something else. “Yes, and you protected me—”
“But not so well.”
Waving that aside, Uldyssian growled, “You know what I mean, Mendeln! I’ve been patient, but something’s touched you that has nothing to do with the gifts I’ve shown the rest! You’ve changed! Sometimes, I’m not even certain to whom I’m talking!”
The younger brother bowed his head. “Neither am I,” he whispered. “Neither am I.”
“We’ve got to have this out between us,” Uldyssian persisted. “I’ve got to know what’s happening to you…and how it might affect those with us. There are too many things at stake!”
“Yes…I agree.” Mendeln glanced back at the crushed building. “But not here. Not now. Tonight. When all others sleep.”
“Mendeln—”
Uldyssian’s brother raised his hands palm forward. Almost pleading, he added, “It must be in the night…and only the two of us.”
Mendeln clamped his mouth shut. Uldyssian knew that he would get no more out of him. Still, “Tonight, then. Tonight and no later. I mean that, Mendeln.”
The other nodded, then turned and walked back. Uldyssian stood for a moment, watching Mendeln’s retreating form. Then, without effort, someone else invaded his thoughts.
Serenthia…
And with her gently smiling face burning into his mind, Uldyssian forgot about demon spirits and mysterious brothers. All that mattered was returning to the others and making certain that she was all right.
After that? Uldyssian could only pray that Achilios—wherever he was—would forgive his friend’s weakness.
Seven
As the sun settled over the horizon, the edyrem began to look for a place to camp. Mendeln, who had steered clear of his brother after the ruins, studied his many companions with an unusual anxiety. He lagged behind as they pushed toward the chosen location—a relatively clear area about ten minutes’ walk to the river—then paused by a trunk as if taking a breath.
They had found the crossing of which Serenthia had earlier claimed to have heard about from someone else. A convenient crossing it had been, wide enough to enable several people to simultaneously move to the other side. By the time he and Uldyssian had reached the others, more than a third had already made it, Serenthia apparently leading the way.
She had been most delighted to see Uldyssian, delighted enough to run into his arms. If not for Mendeln’s presence, he suspected that the embrace might have led to something more right there. The battle against the creature in the ruins had obviously changed Uldyssian’s mind about her and it seemed Serenthia had no more qualms concerning the late, lamented Achilios.
And that now bothered Mendeln more than the danger that they had this day faced.
The last vestiges of daylight had given way to the torches and—more and more—glow lights many of the fledgling edyrem were now able to cast. Some of those Mendeln watched looked much too confident with their minor success; a glow light would scarcely fend off Peace Warders, morlu, or demons.
At last his opportunity came. All eyes were focused on other matters and Uldyssian could only see Serenthia. Mendeln slowly backed into the jungle.
He went headed not toward the river, but rather back along their trail. Despite his heightening anxiety, Mendeln’s breathing remained calm. It was as if he were two men in one body, the newcomer adapting to whatever change around him as necessary.
Mendeln counted each step. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred…
At precisely that many, the figure he had been expecting to meet appeared from around a tree as if by magic…which very likely was the case.
“Always…timely…Mendeln…” The voice, so familiar, carried with it now a raspiness, as if the other constantly needed to clear something from his throat.
Mendeln suspected that what needed to be cleared out was dirt.
“I promised I would meet you at the appointed time…Achilios.”
A short, harsh chuckle escaped the half-seen figure. The archer took a step closer.
Mendeln did not gasp, having done enough of that the first time he had been confronted by the dead man. After all, before him stood his good friend, even if that friend had a gaping hole in his throat, the edges of whi
ch were lined with congealed blood and more dirt. Uldyssian’s brother did not bother to wonder how the blond hunter could even speak, considering that awful gap. Achilios existed now because of some force beyond mortal ken, a force surely powerful enough to give voice to the cold corpse it had animated.
But that description seemed cruel to Achilios, Mendeln suddenly decided. Achilios was no shambling ghoul nor a fiend like the morlu. The spark that was the archer did indeed still make house in his remains; there was no doubting that. True, the flesh was as pale as the whites of Achilios’s eyes—which were completely white now—and there always seemed to be bits of fresh ground spilled over him, but it was still the man the sons of Diomedes had always known. Achilios even showed embarrassment over his condition; even now he tried to wipe his hand clean so that he could clasp Mendeln’s.
Rather than let the archer continue a useless task, the black-clad figure reached out and seized the grimy hand. He shook it as he would have if both were still back home and nothing had changed for either. Not even death.
The shadow of a smile escaped Achilios. Even in his present state, he was a handsome man, lean like the prey he had so successfully hunted…until Lucion. Mendeln had always envied the blond hunter his looks, although the latter had never been vain about them. It had been the perversity of fate that he, who could have had so many women, had desired the only one who had not wanted him…until just before his slaughter. “Braver than…you used to…be…”
“You are my friend.”
“I am as dead as these tree dwellers I caught.” Achilios reached behind him and brought forth a brace of tailed beasts the size of cats and obviously related to them. He set his catch by Mendeln.
The scene both amused and saddened Uldyssian’s brother. Even in the state that he was, Achilios could not keep from his calling. Perhaps, Uldyssian’s brother thought, it was because it allowed him to play at his former life, to pretend that terrible events had never happened.
Scales of the Serpent Page 9
