The Last Pantheon: of hammers and storms

by Jason Jones

  I keeep walking. Pacing. Back down the stairs to the wine cellar, carefully, for the wine cellar I do not use at all, for I do not drink. I do not want to start drinking wine or spirits, and do not want my senses dulled, not ever. The handle opens with a small squeak, then I close it.

  Snap!

  My fingers alert the candles to light, and orange false flames shine from all around. I slide one rack of long spoiled bottles aside, and push the hidden door open. It is dark, black dark, untouchable dark and cold down here.

  “Viashe.” I whisper, and lights of blue and gold come alive all around me. They bring to life my tomes and books, both of old arcane and ancient history. Some are even religious, some even blasphemous in many countries, and some speak the forgotten pagan truths that none recall. The lights show staves and wands, old tapestries, some of mine and some of the real Azarris lineage that I supposedly am the heir to.

  Then there are the rings, one green stone, and one white stone, both on a small pedestal. I keep them here, knowing no one can see me in my hidden exile through any means. I have never returned to hell, never destroyed the ruined city of San Sidomius, Mooncrest, but I did go there, as ordered. I smile, recalling when I first set foot into ruined Mooncrest and saw the---

  Creak

  I look up, having just sat in my chair, alone in my hidden sanctuary. I do not turn, I know who it is behind me.

  “Son, you were supposed to be sleeping.” I whisper as little footsteps dragging a wool blanket near me. I pick up my boy, and sit him in my lap, letting him rest to a side in my arms.

  “Dada, what is umm, this place and all umm this stuff?” Alessandeir mumbles, still half asleep.

  “My secret place beyond the study. Now, it is yours and mine, for you know of it.” I rock him back to sleep, deciding that will be better than moving him should I care to not wake his mind further.

  “Who is that?” Alessandeir points to a statue, a stone bust of a womans face. I have been working on it for years, trying to remember. “That is not mama, is it?”

  “No son, it is not. That is someone else, but I cannot remember her name. It was long before I met your mother, long, long before.” I toss a cloth over it, over the woman that I had been damned for loving, and her for loving me. One that I will never again know the name of, nor see again, for she is lost to eternity.

  “She is beautiful, can we meet her?”

  “I do not know, son. Perhaps, if I can find her.”

  “Dada, is she dead, like mama?”

  “I think so son, but I am not for certain.”

  My mind wants to scream, to cry, for all the vulnerability and lost ages the dream has just wreaked upon my memory. I feel shame for having a child, for my dark pennance, then I dismiss that thought, and hold Alessandeir tight. His eyes are drifing now, a sleeping smile crosses his cheeks.

  “Tell me a story, more about Zen Thalanaxe, dada.”

  I retrace my storytelling to where I left off nights ago. “It is late, are you sure?”

  “Um hmmm.” My boy nods and pulls his blanket close around him as he nestles in my arms.

  “Very well. Just like you were supposed to be sleeping, and awakened, so it was with the five companions. Their dreams were pleasant, refreshing, and they had blessings that none could explain. Haddius had gifted them, though they knew it not. Deep under the temples of the immortal city of San Sidomius, known as Mooncrest since it was given to we mortals, the first people to set foot here in two thousand years awoke and…”

  Exodus IV:IV

  Temple of Haddius

  Ruins of Mooncrest

  One by one, the five companions awoke. No sound of crashing waves, no tumult of storms echoed, and the mist of the underground aquatic temple was motionless on either side of the stone dais and bridge. Blue light from below the sea shone, most unnaturally, as daylight from nowhere illuminated and parted the waters before them. A stone set of stairs led off the north of the platform, deeper down it seemed as the stairs descended, and at the end was an open door of silver steel with sapphire inlays of scripture.

  “What happened, how long have we been asleep?” James asked Shinayne, then looked at the green column and the chain. He glanced around, but there was no Haddius. No one responsible for holding the waters parted either, not that he could see. One by one, James shook the others awake from their sleep on the stone bridge deep underground in the ruins.

  “I am not sure, but that was actual sleep, for which I have not felt in a long time. Deep sleep indeed.” Shinayne yawned politely. Her eyes saw the rippling waters, held apart with light, and she smiled.

  “What happened, elf? How did you free him?” Saberrak snorted, knowing it had been something she did, yet he did not understand it.

  “Elven secrets my horned friend.” She smiled, recalling that she was dancing in blade and step with a forgotten God before the sleep took them. She had taken him out of himself, deep in meditative trance, and brought him somewhere else so that he could feel the water, spiritually speaking. Shinayne smiled even more, knowing it had worked.

  “It was most impressive Shinayne, wasn’t it, men?” Gwenneth commented and looked around, the nods and stares came slowly from the rising companions.

  “So, how did it happen, where did Haddius go, what now?” James was confused, partially not awake yet and still in mild disbelief of what he thought had happened.

  “Dunno, but I feel better than if I’d rested a month straight. We just freed a Carician immortal, I think anyway. What is that there then?” Azenairk Thalanaxe pointed to a set of floating keys, just hovering in the spanse between here and the walls, and he picked them out of the air. Eleven keys, silver they were, with symbols adorning their heads and a silver ring through them. After a moment in his hand, they became a bit heavier.

  “Haddius leaves us a gift, it would seem.” James looked around, they all did, then their eyes fell back to the large ring of keys.

  He saw the hammer and moons upon one key, and lifted it up “Vundren, this one be for certain. Likely to his holy temple.”

  James pointed to the feathered cross key. “Alden.”

  Saberrak stood and looked as Zen held up the next one, a fist with a crescent in its grip. “Annar.”

  “Megos.” The minotaur continued, as if he had studied them his whole life. He nodded at the hand with a full moon key.

  “Vasentanessa.” He said to the key with a pair of moons with snakes intertwined around them.

  “Siril.” Shinayne interjected as the dwarf raised the next key up, a crescent moon with stars connecting the points.

  Saberrak huffed. “Solumet and Haddius.” As he looked to the moon with sun like flames all around, and a moon with waves on one half.

  “Seirena.” James spoke, without realizing it, toward the moon with a leaf inside of it surrounded in vines.

  No one spoke when Zen held up the last two keys. One with a triangle of vines that was empty on the inside, the other was a pair of overlapping moons with two feminine eyes staring back. No one spoke, just looked with puzzled expressions. He looked to Gwenneth who had been silent the whole time.

  “Ideas on who this be then, Gwenne? Seems Saberrak here has run out of answers.” Zen received a snort from the minotaur.

  “No, but I have seen that symbol before. The triangle of vines, I know I saw it in Vallakazz, it was on the shoulderplates of Angeline Berren, the bodyguard of professor Middir of Kivanis. But I do not know what it means.” Gwenneth breathed in the air, fresh and moist, as if she were breathing atop a mountain yet drinking fresh spring water at the same time.

  “The other is for She that has no name, I can feel it. It is like I have a memory that is not mine, yet it is an empty stolen spot in my head.” Saberrak knew of it, just not in words, and he cared not for the twisted memories he had inherited.

  “Well, these be the eleven keys to the ten temples, don’t know what the other one is for then. Maybe we missed one.”

  “No, we just h
ave not seen it. These are gifts from my broth…from Haddius. Put them away, keep them safe. He has parted the waters for us, to a secret passage below his temple. Let’s go.”

  “How do you know this?” James asked, but sincerely.

  “I feel, it seems, I have been here before, long ago. I do not know why, but I know where I am, sort of.” Saberrak looked to his friends, then the silver door, round and written upon with tiny jewels. “It is open, for us to go inside.”

  Saberrak huffed and flared his nostrils. He did not know how he knew these things so readily, but he did. The accepting stares of his friends, even from Gwenneth, reassured him that he was not insane.

  Zen tucked the ring of eleven keys into his pack, readied his shield and warhammer, and walked up with the gray minotaur. “No argument here.”

  Shinayne sheathed her blades and handed James his broadsword from the stone where it had fallen. Gwenneth hovered with her staff in hand, and the five went down the stairs as the still waters of an underground sea stood parted by an unseen force. The blue light faded, the tunnel below was dark and dry, and it went on forever it seemed.

  An hour passed, only the echoes of their march made noise. Suddenly, after a twist to the left, then the right, a set of stairs came into view. Yellow stone, sandstone with decorated engravings and words, and a golden door tall enough for someone much larger than the minotaur was at the end of the inclining steps. The door now in front of them, closed and sealed, the five friends looked to the ancient writing engraved in the gold.

  “Virnu ninar?” Zen commented as he read the words in dwarven. He felt the gold, it was solid, and so were the words written in powdered ruby. “Means first born son, what ye’ think?”

  “I think you should use the key of Solumet, firstborn Carician.” Saberrak rubbed his horns then drew his axes. He heard James and Shinayne ready their blades as well, then they all stood to the sides of the door.

  “Oh, aye. Ye’ mean the keys ye’ told me to put away for another time then? Allright.” Zen shot a glance up to the tattooed warrior. He set down his shield, then his hammer, took his pack off, and got out the keyring. He packed back up, but showed the keys to Saberrak. The dwarven priest received a blow of air, a snort of understanding, then he went toward the lock above the handle.

  “Be ready then.”

  Azenairk placed the key into the hole, a flash of blue light erupted from the door, and as he pushed, he looked to his hand. The key was not in the lock anymore, it was hanging on the ring with the rest, yet he had not taken it out.

  Gray light blinded them all momentarily, as it poured through the opening passage. Zen looked out, the other side of the door was rough sandstone, as were the walls. In fact, there were no walls, the door was built into the side of a sandstone rock face, hidden from the outside world. The last Thalanaxe stepped out, placing the keys through his belt, and shielded his eyes. He was on a road, a rough path, a quarter way up the side of the mythical Kaki Mountains. He teared in the corner of his eyes, but it did not stop his momentum upward, for he saw a set of doors half a mile up and ahead, near the peaks.

  “Kakisteele!”

  “Zen, wait!” Shinayne chased after, knowing this was far too dangerous place to go running off alone. He did not listen, or did not care, and the highborn elf went after him.

  “Do you see what I see?” James Andellis looked out over Mooncrest, the ruined city lay before him, now to the south of where he was standing. He was nearly one hundred feet up the side of the Kaki Mountains, staring out across the temples, the palaces, the green and gray marble tower, the ruined outpost was but a dot on the northern horizon.

  “It is beautiful.”

  “Indeed.”

  Gwenneth walked beside him, head turning from left to right, eyes unblinking. She saw a black spot above in the mountains, like melted volcanic rock. She thought of the temple to the Goddess with no name, then kept her wandering eyes moving. There were castles above in the peaks, yet now they were right overhead, looming like ancient lions ready to pounce. The bronze domed palace with a forged crescent moon rising high caught the faintest glimmer of light, as if the sun were trying to break the cursed clouds.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Saberrak chuckled in his bovine way, passing the couple gazing across Mooncrest.

  James looked confused, then suddenly realized Gwenneth’s hair was blowing across his shoulder, the two were standing very close. His hand, just the little finger actually, grazed hers. Gwenne’s hand swept back across his, her cheek ever so faintly resting on his shoulder. The winds of the storm were barely a breeze that circled out of habit, but no one seemed to notice the lack of unstoppable gale during the gray daylight. Her black hair whisked gently across James’ face, yet he dared not move, not this time. She let her hand open, just a bit, and his fit nicely and slowly inside.

  The shouting, half a mile up, startled them both. Her hand pulled away, as did his, neither doing more than some quick eye contact and blushing as they heard Azenairk yell and yell more, and it echoed across the mountains and ruins.

  “By Vundren! By His holy beard and hammer and the grace of the moons! I am here, tell them we made it father! I stand in the Kaki Mountains Mum, tell Papi and Tad and Gead! The last Thalanaxe is here, at the doors to Kakisteele! Just like I promised ye’!”

  Shinayne stood over Zen as he stared up at the golden double doors. He was on his knees, one hand in the air, the other holding his iron box. He was trembling as tears ran down his smiling face and into his black beard. Her dwarven was not all too well studied, yet she made out the letters and wording above the closed passage as if it were her native tongue.

  “Kakisteele, Guardian City of Thane Kalivak.”

  That was all it said, curved dwarven letters etched with ruby dust, above golden doors. Shinayne put her hand on Azenairk’s shoulder, then Saberrak put his hand on hers. James and Gwenne came minutes later, but no one spoke, just smiled. The plateau here was massive, there was enough room for half a legion right outside the doors to the fabled city of dwarven legend. They watched, smiling, as their friend raised his arms in victory.

  Deep breaths came in and out, Zen was trying to calm himself as best he could. He thought of his family, all of it, racing through his mind like an untamed stallion. Carefully, he picked up the old rusty key, it was as big as his hand. He stood, wiped his sweating brow, and walked toward the doors no dwarf had touched in two thousand years. Doors no dwarf believed existed either, and for most of his life, neither had he. The hammer and moons of Vundren were on each door, and for all the things he had seen in his travels, nothing prepared him for actually placing the old key into the lock.

  Eyes closed, Azenairk Thalanaxe placed the key into the lock, it did not fit. He looked again, the door was open a crack already. His brown eyes looked to the handles, gave a tug, and smiled as they unexpectedly gave a minute measure. Zen furrowed his brow, slid his fingers inside, and pulled. It was hard, heavy, he put a second hand on it. Still tight, yet with all his strength, it moved an inch. No one helped, and he was thankful for it, then slowly he backed up with the ancient golden door finally pulled wide. He moved to the other, did the same, and his friends stood silent and let him respectfully take his long moments.

  Zen looked at the key, then to the ring of keys, realizing it had the exact same hole through it as the other eleven, yet it looked to be made different. It was supposed to be there, he knew it. The iron key of Kakisteele fit onto the ring, so he placed it there, and suddenly the rust fell off and it glistened like the others. He closed his eyes and smiled, knowing the key must be for something more important, perhaps further inside.

  He opened his eyes, just as the hair stood on the necks and arms of everyone. The sky darkened, a black swirl crept the air that was not the previous storm around the ruins. The wind stopped, the air went heavy and stale, and a woman’s voice could be heard from deep in the dark depths of the Kakisteele ahead. They all heard her, the very whisper felt as thoug
h it had power.

  “Althuz gulfierus todrotos Yjaros ethes Gimmor camfiers altavas de uthgeas zirr. Ethes mowierre ogast jre, Thalanaxe.”

  “What did, why is, who said that and what in the hells did it mean?!” Zen scrambled to put away the box, carefully but quick, then grabbed his shield and warhammer. He was not afraid of it, he was angry, it was in his city and did not speak dwarven. He walked a few feet inside and stared at the darkness.

  “I have never heard that language, but it was creepy indeed, and it looks like we have company.” Shinayne pointed with Carice and Elicras as something, many black things were dropping out of those gray clouds into the ruins, perhaps a mile or two north. “This place grows still, suddenly, something watches us, here and now.”

  “I know what it said, but I am not going to tell you.” Saberrak looked to the strange winged black things that were drifting down, the ones the elf was pointing at.

  “I would argue that you do not, as I speak nearly every known tongue, but, you are the chosen one. Another reason I do not worship, their judgement up there is a bit, off.” Gwenne patted Saberrak on the shoulder with her dry remarks.

  “So, horned one, what language and what did it say?”

  “It was Gimmorian, the language of the green moon. How I understand it, I do not know.” Saberrak huffed, he was used to Gwenne’s taunts and jealously guarded intelligence. She hated it if anyone knew something she did not, so he tolerated her comments easily.

  “What did it say, Saberrak?” James drew his blade and watched the winged forms start to circle low through the ruins, as if they were hawks on the hunt. Many hawks.

  “It said, you have dared betray the immortal laws of God and Gimmor, now you will be judged and burned alive for your blasphemy. I sentence you to die. That’s all.” Saberrak huffed, and walked in.

  “It said me name, minotaur. It said Thalanaxe at the end. Ye’ forgot that part.” He corrected.