The Last Pantheon: of hammers and storms

by Jason Jones

  “General Fandruss of Loucas, such a decorated soldier and knight. Would you kiss your dead king?” Johnas put the pale blue and blood encrusted lips of the head toward the face of Fandruss. He turned away, gritted his teeth, and then spit in Johnas’ face.

  Slice, slice, thump

  The blood ran like a gusher, all down his white prison garb, and Johnas dipped Mikhail’s face in the puddle of blood at his feet. Fandruss fell forward, splattering in the crimson river. Johnas set the rotted neck into it, made a slurping sound as if the decapitated head was drinking through its throat, and then lifted it back up. Everyone just stared. It was a frightening madness to witness.

  “Mikhail was thirsty, sorry, I have to keep the guest of honor appeased with the blood of his most loyal.” Johnas laughed as blood dripped from the severed neck and head of the former king. No one else laughed.

  “Sir Jallan of Hurne, would you kiss your king? Perhaps follow him into another battle?” The blood soaked face of his king danced now, through the air, as Johnas used the head as a puppet by the hair.

  “Go fock yourself Valhera, I hope you rot in---“

  Slice, slice, slice, slice, slice

  “Aaarrrghhhh!”

  Johnas plunged his kris blade into Jallan twenty or more times, filling his face, chest, and neck with blood pouring cuts and lacerations until he finally kicked the corpse over.

  “Oh, fock myself, eh? Brave words, enjoy the afterlife.” He walked over to Marcus Mederris, Chancellor and Knight of Southwind Keep.

  “Marcus, Marcus, Marcus…what shall I do with you? It is bad luck to kill a priest, but, I cannot trust to let you live.” He set the head of Mikhail Salganat in the lap of Marcus Mederris.

  “Perhaps, you should seek some atonement, say some prayers, before it is too late.” Marcus let the head fall and stood, arms shackled behind his back.

  “God may forgive you, but I never will.”

  “Marcus, you just do not understand, perhaps no one does. Let me explain it to you.” Johnas paced.

  “There is that moment, in the life of every man, when they realize that what they have done or are about to do, is very wrong.”

  Johnas kicked the head of Mikhail, it rolled into the pit, and he smiled. “I do not have those moments, never have.”

  “You are a madman, a demon, and your day will come, Alden willing.” Marcus stated with assured resolution.

  “That is a matter of debate, one that you may be correct upon, but why wait?” Johnas walked up beside Marcus, lifted his blade to his face, and cut off Marcus’ left ear.

  “Aaaahhhhrrghhhh!” Marcus screamed in pain as blood poured down his neck.

  Johnas spoke into the disembodied ear. “Can you hear me, oh heavenly one? Are you there, Alden? No, I thought not. Will you serve a new king then Marcus, or continue with prayers to God that does not hear your pathetic suffering?”

  “God needs not my body to do his works, I go to meet heavenly Alden at the gates to---“

  Slice, slice, thud, thud

  Johnas cut twice, across the neck, and the head of Marcus Mederris fell to the ground. “Then go, priest, and go quietly to that place that does not exist. Tell them there, who sent you, and tell them I will be sending many more, so many.”

  “I feel better, much better.” Johnas sat on the throne, and his agents all stared. “Well, get to work, throw these bodies in the pit! Are you waiting for an invitation?!”

  Bodies and heads were drug into the pit, the agents of the White Spider scattered, and Johnas Valhera took his crown and set it on the table with the praying tiger hookah. He looked to his right and saw a black panther stroll slowly into the chamber.

  “Crimson of the North, Farrigus, tell me news of our beloved prince and his rescuers.” Johans looked to the sofa, winked slowly, and stretched his hand out for a glass of wine.

  Farrigus slowly formed back into a man, naked, but he stretched a patch over his dead eye. He looked at Johnas and shook his head.

  “No. Then tell me we have Lord Alexei T’Vellon at least.”

  Crimson of the North shook his head again to the no as he walked into the puddles of blood and knelt before the body of Jehrale Valhera.

  “No again. And then I will assume you did not find Aelaine Lazlette nor her Captain Shilde?”

  “No, my patriarch.” Farrigus bowed to Johnas.

  “Since it is the funeral of my only blood relation, and my first days as king, I will not kill you. But, how many failures is that?” Johnas took a long inhale from the pipe, the smoke hit his lungs, and the world was his. The wine was delivered, and it too, was perfect in all regards.

  “Two, your majesty.”

  “Queen Sapphire, the fugitives with the scroll, Alexei T’Vellon, Prince Bryant….hmmmm…I count more.”

  “Yes, your majesty.”

  “Say it again, with feeling.”

  “Yes, your majesty!”

  “Afraid not, what’s that mother? You want me to take his other eye? Jehrale, take his arms you say? You had better try harder, Farrigus!” Johnas looked to the sword then back to the naked man.

  “YES, YOUR MAJESTY!!! HAIL KING JOHNAS VALHERA!!!” Crimson of the North roared as loud as he could.

  “Hail King Johnas!” The members of the White Spider replied in unison.

  Johnas grinned from ear to ear, his body numb, his floors covered in blood. He felt whole again, immortal, swooning in his own power.

  “Better, yet I would like to hear a lot more of that as the days go on.” He drank some wine and sheathed his blade.

  “Now, we have a war to plan against Caberra, with Harlaheim and Willborne as allies. I need to have forces gathered here, so that we may take siege to Vallakazz. Topaz of the South!”

  “Yes, your majesty.” Oggidan was standing behind Farrigus now, head lowered, still and calm.

  “You will go and find out where our enemies are. I want reports on the west as well. Find Sapphire of the East. I will send for the other four in Devonmir and Harlaheim. The Emerald Eight need to meet, with me, and we need to replenish our most deadly. Which means what, young Oggidan?” Johnas was pacing now, in front of the throne.

  “We need a Jade of the West, your majesty.” Oggidan replied. Then he plunged his armblade deep in the ribs of Farrigus. His shortblade sliced across the naked mans throat from behind, and he kicked the bleeding body to the floor.

  “And we need a Crimson of the North, one that does not fail, my king.”

  All watched as Farrigus tried to change to a panther, tried to crawl, yet his hands only smeared the blood around. He looked up to Oggidan, two more slashes of steel went into his back, hitting true, as he fell to silence and death.

  “Correct, Topaz of the South, very correct. You learn fast. Find me one, someone to train. I want this all done when?”

  “Yesterday, your majesty.” Oggidan Chilar sheathed his blade and held the cloth tight to his freshly sewn wound. Then, he turned to leave.

  “I love it when you have all the answers.” Johnas put the crown back on his head and sat back down. He laughed to himself and addressed the crowd of criminals.

  “Men and women, and beasts I suppose, live wealthy, kill often, and do not ever fail me. For your rewards will be uncountable within the White Spider. We are just getting started, my friends, oh yes, this is but the beginning!”

  “Hail King Johnas Valhera!” They all shouted, and he smiled that wicked familiar smile, and the emerald flared green.

  “Yes brother, I will watch over him for you and train him well. Tell mother not to worry, tell her we have three kingdoms now.”

  The sword throbbed twice, one a gentle hum, and the other was a sharper vibration.

  “You are welcome, Jehrale, I know you did not care for Farrigus. But, I now have thirty of his panthers with me, and most loyal.”

  The blade throbbed again as Johnas drank his wine and the cheers continued.

  “I will mother, I will. As promised, Caberra is next…”<
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  Knights IV:I

  Lower Mines

  Kakisteele

  “Hirashi uhm atril!” Gwenneth pointed the staff of Imoch toward the door, purple energy flowed into it, and the door slid shut.

  Slam, slam, slam, scrape, screech, slam, scrape

  “Take my shoulder James, time to move.” The arcane prodigy was terrified, but she could not sound as such, not now. His hand rested on her shoulder, his eyes still smothered with a black swirl of shadow that she could not dismiss, and she alone had to lead them out.

  “How many more are there, Gwenne?” The knight of Chazzrynn could hear the demons, from all around them, then the doors shut and they were as far off echoes. He reached for his blade again, on inctinct, but it was not there.

  “Twenty or more, they are scattered, trying to surround us in these tunnels. Come on, this way.” She walked fast, not having the energy to hover or fly, and she had to lead James, step by step.

  “Just banish them, like before, then we find the others.”

  “James, it is not that easy. I had time on the plateau, a clear view, and they were massed in a group before me. Now, they are coming fast, down small tunnels, and…and…I am weak, James.”

  His hand glowed blue, a faint trickle of small harmless warm flames, and it tickled her shoulder. James Andellis kept his shield up as they walked, not that he could see, but just in case.

  “You know where you are going?”

  “No, I have been lost in these tunnels for the last four or five turns, but I sense something ahead. Something hidden, a door that is guarded by some force of magic. It is not far now. Watch the stairs, up, there you go.”

  “I trust you.” James smiled as he took the stairs carefully.

  “What choice do you have, truly?” She snickered. Her left hand held the green glowing staff, her right hand still shot pins and needles as her sense of touch began to return. The forces she had unleashed into Arabashiel had drained her, hurt her, and she knew that days of rest would be needed soon.

  “I could stay here, guard these stairs while you find the others.”

  James smiled, trying not to think of what had happened, what he had heard. He knew Shinayne was blind as well, and Saberrak had told them to run. His ears told him of the great explosions and the earthquakes, yet all he truly knew was that somewhere in that chaos, Gwenneth had pulled him up and gotten him out.

  “No, I need you now, we have to get to the temple of Haddius. What would I do without my knight and protector?”

  “I do not think I can protect you much, not like this.” He rubbed his eyes. The shadows parted and swirled, but clung to his face regardless.

  “Then you are here for support, for I do not wish to march this cursed place alone while demons hunt for me.” Gwenne chuckled, turned left, and saw more stairs leading up.

  “I will never leave you alone, Gwenneth.” James gripped her shoulder tighter.

  “I know.” She felt stronger, his touch, the blue flames, and his words, it all seemed to put her at ease and make her nervous at the same time. Either way, she felt her focus returning.

  “I am sorry, about your fathers’ sword. I will find it.” James hung his head as he walked the stairs blindly.

  “It is just a sword, James Andellis, just a sword.” Gwenne felt something, a pain in her heart, an ache in her throat.

  “No, for me, it is a reminder of the greatest man I ever served with, a hero of Chazzrynn. I carry it in his honor, and yours.”

  “Oh James, not now, please.” Gwenne sniffled.

  “One night I swore to it, after I met you, that I would always use it to protect and watch over you. I think, I hope that is, that Arlinne can see that I am living up to my vow.” James felt ahead with his boots, solid flat ground ahead, they had finished the stairs.

  “Is that what I am to you, an oath to my dead father? A vow to the sword of a man I barely remember?” Gwenneth let a tear fall, but anger was starting to follow.

  “No.” James spun her around, his hand felt for her face, still his eyes saw but darkness. But, he knew her face, every bit of it, by touch, smell, with all he was inside.

  “Then what am I to you, James Andellis?” She whispered, his hand warmed her cheek, blue light and all, and she closed her eyes.

  “You are my opposite, my other half, and you have my heart, Gwenne. I know, behind all that power, all your wisdom and study, that there is a woman in there that wants to be loved by someone who will never leave her side. I am weak, my strength lies in my honor, my vows, and my service. Things you cannot touch. Yours is a visible force, always there to prove---“ James stopped, he felt her hand on his cheek, it was cold, and sweating, like a young child nearing their first kiss.

  “James, stop, please---“

  “You can destroy me with your lightning, burn me with your mighty fires, but you cannot stop the love I feel for you. For once I get past your defenses, I have seen someone so like myself, so guarded, yet so in need of love. I feel that pain, that same loneliness, and I---“ Her breath was right there, her air was exhaling into his mouth as he spoke.

  “Oh James, stop,---“

  “I will never leave you, Gwenneth.”

  “I know.”

  James felt the back of her long black hair, and though he could not see, his lips found hers in the darkness nonetheless. Her nose pressed to his cheek, and his to hers, and her kiss melted him with every turn it took. It was innocent, moist, and the two barely found a moment to breath as they held one another. Alone in a cavern, James and Gwenneth held one another close, and kissed as if they had waited their whole lives for it, as if it may never happen again.

  Screech, screech, fwap, fwap, screech

  Their moment was broken by the sound of Tandorial demons, many this time, flying the tunnels on the hunt and close by. Gwenneth backed up, keeping her hand in his, and wiped her eyes. She breathed out slowly, feeling something she had never felt before, but not knowing how to put it to words.

  “Come on, brave knight, we have to find our friends now. This way.” She pulled him in the darkness, lit only by her green emerald atop the staff. Left, then right, then up more stairs, then down a slope. She followed her seventh sense, her arcane sight, and came to a dead end.

  She looked hard, noticing faint traces of light from a few cracks, not real light, but the faint glimmer of an enchantment. It was a design, a pattern of a dragon, and its head was looking up. Gwenne focused her fingers and hand into the same posture as the depicted wyrm on the stone, painful as it was, and chanted quietly.

  “Urth deas de norostes ex uth jalix.” She spoke the forceful aracane passage in the draconic tongue, blue light radiated from her hand, and the stone parted in seven sliding pieces.

  Gray light poured from outside, blinding her from all her time spent underground in these ruins. She grabbed James’ hand, shielded her face with her arm and staff, and walked toward the sandstone street. The shadows of tall temples and spires were ahead, she had found a secret passage into the city from the lower mines, and the stone slid back into place, all on its own as they passed.

  “It feels fresh out here, you found it?” James whispered.

  “I did, now to the ……NO!”

  Gwenne saw men, hundreds, they looked just as surprised as she was.

  Click, click, click, thewmm, thewmm, thewmm

  Before she could think, she reacted, as the startled men unleashed a barrage of crossbow bolts at defenseless and blind James. Gwenneth spun around, protecting him on instinct. She felt it then, dozens of sharp pains into her back, too many to count. She screamed in pain as her body was showered with flights.

  James was unaware, he could not see, but he felt Gwenneth wrap her arms around him suddenly. Then she jerked hard, and he heard the scream in his ear. She started to fall, but he held her. His hands felt her back, all the bolts protruding, and the blood.

  “No, no, no!!! Bastards, no!”

  James felt his tears, he started pulling
the flights out as the two collapsed on the stone street. He could not see, but his hand scrambled to pull the bolts free as his other hand unleashed its warmth into her skin. Then, she was gone, the men pulled him away.

  “I… love… you… Ja…”

  Her voice trickled out in whisper, as the soldiers of Armondeen dragged her body away. Her staff flashed one last time as it fell from her hand, her eyes lay open and still, and a trail of blood smeared the stone as her body was taken toward the temples. Gwenneth’s head fell to one side, her legs twitched once, and then a bit of crimson trickled out of her mouth where air should have been.

  “Gwenneth! Gwenneth! Let me heal her you damned---“

  Thump, crack, thump, crack

  “Take him.”

  James saw nothing, his head had been struck hard three times, then the back of his neck. Sounds came and went, he felt like he was being carried from under his arms. It flashed back, the ogre, Arouland, the capture and torture that had haunted him his whole life. His ears heard soldiers, then he heard his name, and Gwenneth’s. He heard Shinayne crying, he heard Saberrak roaring, and chains rattling. James heard men talking, but he could not respond.

  “Is she dead, captain?”

  “No breath, no heart beating, yes, she is dead my lord.”

  “Who gave the order to fire?”

  “No one, my Lord Amirak, it was accidental, they surprised us. None of us knew a door was there, in the stone behind us, it was an accident my----“

  Slice, thud, thud

  “I do not tolerate failure. These trespassers are to be sacrificed to Kashtamias, now we have one less. Sir Orlimane, find the dwarf that was with them. Now.”

  James reached around, blindly, then they took his shield. He felt the manacles go on his arms and legs, but still he grasped for Gwenneth, not knowing that she was twenty feet away and out of his reach. His tears were constant, silent, and more painful than anything he had ever felt.

  “James, be strong now.”

  It was Saberrak’s voice, whispering, but he did not care. His voice was nothing but sorrowful screams should he open his mouth. James kept feeling for Gwenneth, blood pouring down his head, blind, and desperate.