“They may enter. Then you and your friend keep the doorway sealed until I am done.”
The guard nodded, then vanished through the entrance.
Lilith stood over the Parthan as she spoke to Uldyssian. “You’ve no idea how many there were so easily turned to my desire, dear love! You were so gracious, accepting all who came to embrace what you offered, but even though your will buried what they were, it did not erase it. Turning them was even more simple than Romus here.” Dagger still in hand, she performed a mock curtsy. “For arranging things so well for me, I thank you!”
Still attempting to stall, Uldyssian looked around again. Despite there being only signs of Lilith in the chamber, he suspected that once the walls had been covered with markings dedicated to beings equally vile. “What is it about this place? You sought it out.”
“This? This place is a nexus, my love, important to the making of Sanctuary, all those centuries ago! Here was set one of the first points of reality—you might say hammered down—that allowed this world to hold together! There is power beyond belief here, the contribution of every angel and demon who built this refuge, including him. So strong are the forces inherent here that you see that even your kind sensed them and built this.” Indicating herself, she merrily added, “And this…more than three of your lifetimes ago…is where I found my way back to Sanctuary!”
It startled him to hear that Lilith had been in his world for that long without ever being noticed. That raised anew his fear that the demoness just might be able to accomplish all that she planned. If even the angel who had cast her out had not sensed her in all this time…
But before he could discover more, Lilith’s turned edyrem began filtering inside. So many of the faces—male and female—were known well to Uldyssian, which pained him further. He saw both Parthans and Torajians and assumed that a few Hashiri were also among the gathering. All told, there were at least a couple dozen.
“Stand along the edge of the room,” Lilith commanded.
Uldyssian used her distraction to try one last time to free himself. He had little hope of success, but could not bring himself to merely accept what appeared inevitable—
Then, to his surprise, he sensed the magical forces binding him weaken in a few places. Managing to cover his pleasure at this, he focused on those points…and then noticed that they were where Romus’s blood had splattered him.
Cautiously, Uldyssian sought to exploit them. He worked at the spell holding him, gradually feeling it unravel here and there.
But the effort went too slow. Lilith already had most of her pawns in place for whatever ceremony she had planned and now the demoness again positioned herself above the dead Parthan.
From her lips erupted sounds that no mortal creature could utter. They were evidently words of power, for he sensed the chamber immediately fill with invisible but potent forces rising from deep beneath.
Something else rose…blood from Romus’s wounds. It streamed up into the air, reaching at last the dagger. This time, Lilith desired far more than just enough to cover the blade; Uldyssian suspected that she would drain the corpse completely before her task was finished.
As she did this, her edyrem turned their palms up. Energies from within each sparked to life over the palms. The edyrem moved with such perfect coordination that he wondered if Lilith now utterly controlled them.
He felt her spell upon him fade more, yet still not enough to enable him to fight her, much less her followers, too. Time was against him. Lilith was nearly done with her grisly task.
At last, she held up for all to see the insidious dagger. Even though it was drenched in blood, there should have been far more of the crimson fluid present. Uldyssian did not want to even think where the rest had gone.
The binding spell continued to weaken. All he needed was a minute or two longer…
But it seemed that Lilith had no intention of giving that to him. She strode to where he lay, paying no mind to the droplets left in her wake.
“Now it begins, my love,” she whispered, reaching to the side to take the goblet. “Retribution begins…”
Her mouth contorted as out of it again issued those inhuman sounds—
One of the edyrem let out a cry and fell back.
Uldyssian at first thought it Lilith’s doing, that she had intended from the start to use her other puppets as she had Romus, but then he saw that which had slain the man.
An arrow through the throat. An arrow encrusted in dirt.
Before the first body stilled, a second follower also collapsed, a shaft through his chest exactly where the heart was located.
Lilith’s followers broke ranks as some sought shelter while others looked for the source of the seemingly magical bolts. Uldyssian was the first to recognize their point of origin, the narrow slits above. How the archer had managed to avoid the guards outside or to be sensed by Lilith was a much more major question.
But the answer to that was something with which he could concern himself later…if possible. The momentary interruption had given him the time that he needed to at last extinguish the spell keeping him bound and helpless.
One of the nearest edyrem saw him rise. The dark-skinned figure started to point at Uldyssian, but the latter, not needing to focus, sent his would-be attacker flying up into the wall. Uldyssian then glared at two more just registering his freedom. They suddenly flung against one another with such force that both were knocked unconscious.
Another of Lilith’s followers screamed. The arrow that had slain him stuck out of his back, which meant that it had come from another direction. Whether that meant more than one bowman, Uldyssian had no chance to consider, for Lilith, face monstrously contorted, had resumed her chanting. Uldyssian could only assume that meant that she still had hope of fulfilling her plan and turning the rest of the edyrem to her cause.
Whatever the cost, he could not let that happen. The chamber shook as pure force radiated from him in every direction. Edyrem went tumbling, some crashing into each other and into walls. Uldyssian did not care if they lived or died, for they had likely been forever tainted by Lilith. What was important was saving all the rest.
Lilith, too, had been thrown back by his brutal assault. But as he leapt off the altar, he saw her rise. Serenthia’s blood dripped from a wound near the mouth and a dark bruise discolored the forehead.
Unfortunately, the demoness was far from defeated. She raised the dagger as if to throw it, but instead uttered another of the incomprehensible words. Uldyssian swore, fearing that Lilith had yet succeeded…
To his shock, though, it was her followers who cried out, then fell still all around them. Uldyssian sensed Lilith quickly draw something from them into herself.
“My foolish, foolish love…” the demoness rasped as she stood up. “Always a little shortsighted. Always not doing quite enough. From these I’ll still have my way with but a moment more. You can’t stand against me enough to keep me from taking the rest of your precious flock with what I’ve grasped from these fools! A greater sacrifice than I planned, but their loss is paltry compared to what I gain!”
He did not speak, answering instead with a force that should have pounded her to the ground. However, although she shook, Lilith remained standing.
They both knew the reason why. As much as he wanted to, Uldyssian could not bring himself to slay Serenthia, the only certain method to stop the creature possessing her body. That hesitation meant that, despite the shift in circumstances, Lilith would still in the end win.
And Sanctuary would surely be doomed.
“Poor, sweet darling,” she cooed. “Always seizing failure at the moment of victory! Still, I promise you some delights with this body, once I’ve made you mine again…”
Something struck the blade of the dagger with such force that it ripped the weapon from the distracted demoness’s grip. Blood splattered the area around Lilith as the dagger and what had hit it clattered against the back wall.
And as both pieces
stilled, Uldyssian saw that what lay near the dagger was another arrow…again covered in dirt.
“Serenthia…” a voice called from the entranceway, a voice that despite its grating, was so familiar to Uldyssian that it made the hair on his neck stiffen. “Serenthia…” it called again, closer now. “Come back…to us…to me…”
Despite Lilith still free, Uldyssian had to turn to the newcomer, had to see if he was dreaming…or living a new nightmare.
It was Achilios…Achilios, who was very dead.
The hunter’s too pale eyes gazed only momentarily at Uldyssian, as if just to acknowledge that the latter saw the truth. Then, Achilios, bow drawn for another shot, continued forward. Behind him, he left a trail of slightly moist dirt, the same which seemed to cover much of his form.
“Serenthia…” the dead man repeated. What little remained of his ruined throat twisted and shifted as if actually drawing the breath needed for speech. “You can…hear me…you…know me…”
Lilith had been oddly silent, but now she snapped, “There is only Lilith, dear decrepit Achilios! My! Love can be foolishly strong, can it not?” She spread her arms. “Would you like me to warm you for her, archer?”
“Spare…spare me…your pathetic…seductions,” Achilios replied, raising the bow to fire. “If I…can’t…free her one way…I’ll free her…another…she would…want that…”
“And perhaps when she, too, is dead, you’ll have the chance to win her again? How macabre and wonderful at the same time!” She leaned so that he had a clear shot at her breast. “Fire, then!”
But Achilios did not rise to her bait. “When I am…ready, witch…first…I still want…her…to come to us…”
Seeing that Lilith was focused on the walking corpse, Uldyssian readied his own attack. However, Achilios shook his head.
“No…this is not for you to…do…”
There was that in the rasping voice that made Uldyssian listen. He watched as the archer lowered the bow.
“Serenthia…” Achilios murmured. “Serenthia…please awaken…”
Lilith stood as if frozen. Uldyssian thought that she planned some new mischief, but then the demoness’s hands clutched at her throat as if to choke herself.
She screamed. She screamed so loud and with such raw agony that it would not have surprised the son of Diomedes to see the rest of the dead in the chamber rise up to join Achilios. Lilith screamed without pause, the very building shaking from her effort.
And then…and then…something monstrous emerged from her upturned mouth. They initially looked like a pit of small serpents, but Uldyssian finally recognized them as fingers. Taloned fingers.
Serenthia’s face distorted, her mouth growing twice, then three times the size of her head. The hands pushed it wider, wider…and only then did it become apparent that the scream was issuing forth from whatever was emerging, not from the woman before them.
Fearing for the merchant’s daughter, Uldyssian started forward, but again the archer forbade him. “Do not…do not stop this…if we are…to have any hope…for Serenthia…”
If it had been any other—no, if it had even been a living Achilios—Uldyssian would have paid the command no heed. Yet, somehow, he realized that his dead comrade understood the matter more than he could ever begin to. Nerves taut, Uldyssian forced himself to watch things unfold.
A grotesque array of red quills erupted from Serenthia’s monstrous maw. They pushed upward. Upward…
And with one terrible push, the demoness Lilith burst full-blown out of the dark-haired woman’s mouth.
Still screaming—but from what seemed more rage than pain—the green-scaled siren flew around the chamber several times. Below, Serenthia—now normal again—teetered dangerously.
“Fools!” bellowed Lilith, suddenly hovering. “Little-minded mortal fools! Do you think this means anything? Do you think you’ve won at all?” She laughed wildly, then thrust a taloned finger toward Serenthia. “Careful, dears! She’s about to drop!”
With that, the demon flew up to the ceiling, vanishing just before she would have crashed into it.
Neither Uldyssian nor Achilios dared watch to see if this were another trick, for Lilith had at least spoken true when she had warned them about Serenthia. Nearly as pale as the archer, Serenthia let out a slight gasp, then fell over.
Uldyssian intended to use his abilities to keep her from striking the stones headfirst, but somehow Achilios moved even faster. Gritty arms caught Serenthia mere inches from disaster. The archer gently set her down as if she were made of fragile glass.
Serenthia exhaled…and her eyes fluttered open. She gazed up at her savior, who himself looked to Uldyssian as if he suddenly wished that he were anywhere else at the moment rather than in her sight. The archer quickly put one hand over his throat in a futile attempt to cover the monstrous sight.
“A-Achilios…” she mumbled. “Achilios…” A smile started to spread, but before it could go very far…Serenthia passed out.
“Praise…be…” muttered the dead man. He stepped back from her, only then looking at Uldyssian.
The son of Diomedes could still not believe what he was seeing. “Achilios—”
“Take…take better care…of her…next time…if only so I won’t…be back…”
The archer turned to flee, but Uldyssian seized him by the arm. Ignoring both the dirt and the cold he felt, Uldyssian growled, “You can’t leave!”
This brought a harsh laugh from the dead man. “And…how could I…remain?”
Before Uldyssian could answer, yet another scream resounded in the ancient structure. Both looked to the entrance…where, unnoticed in the heat of things, a crowd of startled edyrem had gathered.
A crowd now seeing their mistress as still as death, their master returned as if from the dead…and a man the Parthans in the group knew had been slaughtered by a demon.
Sixteen
Mendeln had never stood atop a mountain before.
He did not like it in the least.
The wind howled and snow covered everything. However, nothing, not even the chill air, really touched him much. He supposed that he had Rathma to thank for that, if gratitude was the proper emotion for being dragged off to this desolate spot to face a figure whose very name filled Uldyssian’s brother with dread.
“And what assistance am I to be against an angel?” he asked not for the first time. Mendeln had to raise his voice to be heard over the wind.
“Whatever it turns out you can supply,” was Rathma’s response, the same one he had used to answer the prior questions.
Mendeln folded his arms tight, if only out of habit, not from being cold. “Where are we?”
“Near where I brought your brother. Near to the vicinity of the Worldstone.”
What little Mendeln had learned of this “Worldstone” had filled him with new awe and not a little uncertainty. To have created such a thing, the angels and demons must have utilized fantastic magic and energy.
He was about to ask Rathma another question when the ancient nephalem raised a hand to cut him off.
“My father approaches. Be wary.”
To Mendeln, it was an unnecessary warning. How could he deal with the arrival of an angry angel with anything but wariness?
The wind suddenly picked up, so ferocious now that it nearly shoved Mendeln from his position. He did not like the thought of tumbling down the mountainside, no matter what he had learned from the dragon and his companion about the many states of life. At the moment, Mendeln still preferred the “living” stage too much to abandon it just yet.
The snow also increased. A storm raged about them. Rathma pulled free his dagger and muttered something, but the storm remained intense.
Then, an ear-splitting thunderclap shook them further, a thunderclap immediately followed by dead silence. If not for being able to hear his own breathing, Mendeln would have believed himself now deaf.
And then he noticed in their midst a golden-haired youth.
“I am disappointed in you, my son,” the robed figure stated in a voice of pure music.
“As you ever have been since my birth, my father,” Rathma replied, his generally bland tone with a hint of an edge in it.
The newcomer looked away from the pair, instead seeming more interested in the general landscape. “And have you seen your mother of late?”
“No. I have been fortunate in that regard. I wish I could say the same concerning you.”
Now Rathma had his attention again. “Your insolence is unbecoming. Be grateful that I have not deigned to punish you for your past sins.”
Mendeln watched the pair, still uncertain, despite what he had heard, that this was indeed Inarius. He knew that the angel was master of the Cathedral of Light and had heard of the Prophet’s general description, but to actually see the young figure was disconcerting, to say the least.
As if sensing this, Inarius turned his gaze to the human. Suddenly, Mendeln had no more doubts. The eyes were enough to stop him in his tracks. He could not even say what color they were, just that to have them look his way made Mendeln almost wish to drop down on his knees in worship. That made him again wonder just how much help he would actually be, should Rathma truly need him. If he was this weak merely because of a look…
To his surprise, a slight chuckle escaped Rathma. “Not so insignificant, are they?”
“And that may be their downfall,” returned the angel coldly. “You and your kind had no place here. Nor do these. If they cannot be contained, they must be removed…” He turned from them as if they were nothing to him. His sandaled feet left no impressions in the snow. “Sanctuary must be purified…”
Rathma was uncharacteristically emotional. “For who, Inarius? For who? All there would be then is you! Must all else in this world bend to your will or be expunged for their defiance?”
“They exist by my will, therefore, yes…” The Prophet turned to them again. As he did, Mendeln noticed that he momentarily left the edge of the mountaintop, yet did not fall. “This is a debate we have had before, Linarian…”
Scales of the Serpent Page 22
