by Mark Eller
Mari laughed. “Your advice! You spread me fictions and expect me to listen? You expect me to believe these creatures actually come from a literal Hell? You expect me to believe a god has taken up residence inside my castle, to believe the dead have risen and taken up our battle? Let me tell you something, sister mine. There is no hell. There is no heaven, and there are no gods. We have found records. These gods of yours were once human. This hell of yours exists only beneath Yernden. Your precious virtuous gods created it. They hollowed out the earth or did something similar. They created the miasma to feed those creatures, and then they sealed them away until an earthquake widened the hellhole in Yyles. We have records. Broken ones. Incomplete, but enough to know men were once able to become pretend gods.”
Pausing, she became silent while her eyes studied the castle walls. A thin smile touched her lips. One hand absently caressed her belly where a child slowly grew. “Yes, Elise, I want my castle. I want my kingdom and my power, and I want to know hundreds of thousands of people look to me for instruction, but what I want most of all is the secret. Humans have become gods. What happened once can happen again, and I am going to find out how. Father has an empire. When I am finished I will have the world.”
“A fool,” Elise reiterated. She wished she had her sword or armor but Mari had stripped those from her. She shifted uncomfortably in the unfamiliar saddle. Mari had mounted her on one of the Altude Empire’s new war arvids, something which did not give her confidence since she didn’t know how to control the beast. Elise knew Mari had set her on the animal because she wanted Elise to die in the battle. Truthfully, Elise rather expected she would die, but she would not die easily, and she would not die afraid. She would, however, die knowing she had given Zorce one hell of a black eye. The secret to doing so was to get the battle started before Zorce had enough time to regroup after the previous night’s fiasco. Without a push it was possible her sister would wait another day, or even two before finally giving the order. The soldiers were ready, lined up and bursting with overconfidence after the short battle and victory, but Mari had been dithering over the matter for more than an hour. Fortunately, she was young and proud and more easily manipulated than she thought.
“By the end of this day,” Elise sneered, “you and all your troops will be dead if you have the balls to actually do something. I doubt you do. I’ve a feeling you’ve mucked up your troop’s training so badly that you know they are worthless for this.”
Mari’s face twisted. Her eyes flashed, and her voice bit out words like iron ingots. “Unlike you, Elise, I’ve taken the time to learn my craft. I don’t fuck up.” She raised her arm, sword in hand. Sunlight glistened off polished armor, reflected off royal barding. Around her, her personal guard readied their weapons and moved closer. Mari lowered her arm, pointed her sword, and shouted.
“Give me that castle!”
Tens of thousands of soldiers shouted and screamed and surged forward. Catapults flung half ton boulders and bags filled with flaming liquids. Arrows flew through the air so thickly the sun was momentarily blotted out by their cloud, casting eerie shadows that half-hid the castle and soldiers. The first arrow flight passed by. Another rose. Elise sat her arvid, Mari beside her, and watched while thousands of Altude Empire soldiers raced toward their deaths. She wanted to turn away, wanted to avoid seeing these poor boys fall, but could not. This was partly her doing, her instigation, because Jolson needed a distraction. These men died for her.
Turning her head, she gave her sister a steady stare. “The battle is before us. Why are we still here?”
Mari sneered. “Do you think me so stupid as to put myself in the middle of it? That is for amateurs and cattle. Rulers rule. We do not fight.”
“Then I am an amateur,” Elise said. Unarmed and unarmored, she climbed off the arvid she did not know how to control. “These soldiers are invaders, brought here so you can steal my throne, but by the gods, they fight for my people and my kingdom. I will not let them fight alone.”
Mari tilted back her head and laughed. Her voice sounded low, almost lost in the yells and screams, the banging of catapults releasing and bowstrings thrumming. “Go to your battle, sister. Die for your ideals. You are the fool. Not I.”
“I never denied it,” Elise said. She walked calmly toward the battle. Somewhere along the way she would find a sword clenched in a dying grip. She would find a shield beside its dead owner. She would find a hellborn who needed killing. Mari believed rulers directed while others died. Elise believed they led by example, from the front if need be. She shook her head while catapult loads and arrows reflected away from invisible walls of magical force protecting the castle.
She and Mari had been raised by the same father, taught by the same tutors. How could they have come to such opposite conclusions about duty and rule?
Elise soon reached a fallen Yernden soldier, hours dead, she guessed, killed during the earlier battle. She bent, gathered up his sword and shield, his bow and several druid blessed arrows scattered across the ground. Armed and partially armored, she looked over her shoulder to see Mari watching, a scowl marring her unhappy face. Elise slung quiver and bow over her shoulders, fastened the shield to her arm, and grasped the sword. Bending again, she picked up a half emptied bag of god imbued salt. She turned back toward the battle and marched forward.
Ahead, hellkind suddenly poured over the castle walls. Others flowed from windows and doors. Kites, wraiths, wyverns, and others suddenly flew overhead. A figure stood in the center of the battlements, tall, red horns rising from its brow, ball lightning flickering and flaring between their tips. The figure raised a hand, released a roar, and the dying began.
* * * *
Ani held her breath, ready to release the power of her voice. She would blast these hellborn with everything she had— if her voice worked. She wasn’t sure it would. Her throat felt tight, powerless as wave after wave of hellborn poured in on them. Thousands. Tens of thousands, or even millions. She did not know, having no head for such numbers. All she knew was they were a blur of forms and shapes and faces. Some leapt. Some crawled. Others flew on great leathery bat wings, and too damn many ran.
When they reached the gate, they stopped.
A growling started in the back of the horde. The hellborn army parted down the middle, and Zorce strode out from among his amassed strength, a two-headed hellhound in hand, straining against its leash.
Zorce took only moments to reach the gates. His huge body towered over his servants, bulging and pulsing with power. Each muscle rippled and moved of its own accord, almost as if they were living things about to leap from his body. Long black claws, like over grown thorns, extended from the ends of his fingers, clacking and flexing in apparent anticipation. He was naked. Ani looked at his sex and paled. She couldn’t imagine any woman surviving what he had to offer. Even a gentle touch would make fingers bleed. His massive member oozed, bubbled, and steamed viscous yellow pus.
Watching her, Zorce followed the direction of her gaze. He looked back at her, pointed at his member, pointed at Ani, and smiled as his cock grew hard.
Ani felt fear like she had never known before. Her knees grew weak and she wanted to turn and run. A blanket of darkness fell upon her, heavy, choking. Unsteady, Ani swayed and had to lean upon her staff.
A burst of white light washed over her, shredding the oppressive evil Zorce had thrown upon them. Ani clutched at her chest as her breath returned. Her eyes shot toward her daughter’s body, to Anothosia, to see the moonstone atop her Staff of Truth throwing out almost blinding waves of vermillion light. The staff’s light blew away the darkness, glowed for a few moments more, and then faded away. Nodding, Anothosia waved a nonchalant hand toward Zorce.
Ani sighed with relief. Somehow, the goddess had dispelled Zorce’s treachery with a simple wave of her staff.
Ani straightened once more, her fear subsiding but not completely leaving her. If the two gods could throw so much power around without so much as bli
nking, what chance did she have of surviving?
At least the dark’s god’s member was no longer turgid. The sight of it erect when Zorce focused on her had frightened Ani almost more than anything else.
Zorce laughed, deep and threatening. “A very fine trick goddess, but your pathetic little staff won’t save you when I open these gates. Once my creatures have torn you to shreds I will unleash my army upon the world above. Unhindered. Why don’t you give up this useless fight and join me in my reign upon Terra Scientia? You and I are among the strongest gods upon the face of this rat hole planet. Let us rule it together, combine our strength, our knowledge, leave this world, discover other planets, and conquer them all?”
Ani frowned as her attention switched back and forth between the two. What was this talk of other worlds, other planets?
Fastening her gaze back on Zorce, she saw his smile was victorious. His eyes were lit with Hell’s black hatred. To Ani, it seemed he thought he was already king of the true world, and Anothosia could not possibly refuse his generous offer.
“How about you, Mercktos?” Zorce continued. “You have reigned by my side for thousands of years. I treated you as nearly my equal until our recent unpleasantness. Why throw it all away now for such a puny thing as humanity? We have outgrown our origins. Mere mortals are nothing to us.”
His attention turned to Ani. The dark god’s eyes narrowed. “You could have a place here as well Anithia; you and Missa, spared the onslaught. You would be untouched, unmolested. All you have to do is stand aside and let my army pass to the world above. Forget your foolish defiance of my will, and I will leave you in peace for your few remaining years.”
Anithia shivered, took a look around at the waiting hellkind who wanted to tear her heart out and rip the tiny limbs from her daughter’s body. A simple yes could save her and Missa, but what about Calto? The other knights? Low, Joss, Jolson, and the queen? There would be no reprieve for them. No show of mercy, no way of surviving the murdering hordes. Even at the cost of her life, at the cost of Missa’s, she could not abandon them along with all of Yernden.
Mercktos and Anothosia looked at her. Anothosia’s gaze held expectancy and a touch of worry. Mercktos’s expression was cool, emotionless.
Ani swallowed. Hard. “Your answer is no. No matter what my goddess decides, I will not let you pass.” Ani tried to hold her head up, tried to keep her body from trembling. Failing, she settled instead for not cowering behind the tiny body of her goddess.
Anothosia’s gaze turned back to Zorce. She smiled broadly, and it was like seeing the sun come up, lighting the horizon with its warm orange and yellow rays, nourishing the earth. In that smile all of life unfolded before Ani. She felt renewed and strengthened in her purpose. She felt like the impossible had suddenly become possible.
Mercktos turned a grim look to his one-time master and shook his head. “It’s a nice offer, but no thanks. And it’s Merrac now, shit god. The last of Mercktos dried up and blew away on your gate.”
Growling frustration, Zorce focused on Anothosia. “I have not heard your answer, Anna. Consider carefully for it may be the difference between sweet life and an eternal, agonizing death in my new world. Surely you don’t think you can win this time? Too many of your past allies have gone missing.”
“Still the same old rhetoric,” Anothosia noted. “I would have thought you would have used the centuries since our last meeting to develop better dialogue and more impressive threats. Surely you don’t think I came so ill prepared, not after what I’ve been through to get here? Trust me. I did not come here without some assurance of our victory?” She tilted her head quizzically to the side, her expression unchanging. “Do you truly believe I have not grown in strength over this long time?”
Zorce narrowed his eyes. They slid to the left, then to the right. “You are a weak fool. No match for me, and I count only three of you. A used up ex-devil, a halfling goddess, and a nature freak. Are you trying to tell me that’s all you need?”
Zorce’s laughter started deep in his stomach and exploded out of his mouth. His whole body shook. The waiting horde started to laugh along, and then oddly, so did Anothosia.
Anithia looked at the goddess in shock. What was so fucking funny about the near end of everything? Was the goddess daft?
She didn’t understand, and apparently, neither did Zorce.
Raising one imperious hand, Zorce ordered his hoard to silence. Within moments the only one laughing was Anothosia.
“You laugh goddess— at me— why?” Zorce’s jaw thrust forward. His overly developed chest muscles bulged. “Do you think my threats aren’t real?”
Anothosia struggled with her laughter for a few seconds longer before it stopped with a giggle. Brushing a hand through her hair, she drew in a deep breath and visibly composed herself. “Oh yes, dear Zorcey, of course I think they’re real. I also think it’s funny and a bit odd you waited until the last moment to send reinforcements to the surface. I find it amusing you have almost your entire force bottlenecked at the Hell Gate. Honestly, could you have made it any easier for me?” The goddess’s smile slowly lost its sweet nature and became sinister.
Ani tensed. She could feel the build-up of power in the goddess’s staff. The sword in Merrac’s hand began to hum louder.
So, with the pissing match over, it was almost time.
Zorce felt it as well. His large black eyes widened in surprise, almost as if the god of hatred now realized his folly.
Before he could command his troops back away from the gate, Anothosia released her vengeance. Her voice rose high, strong and unbelievably powerful. The combination of both Missa’s gift and the goddess’s own strength blew the first hundred feet of hell creatures into complete nothingness. Others tumbled back, broke into pieces, and died. Before them, the air was suddenly filled with war cries, screams of pain, screeching, roars— and the sound of breaking reality. Anothosia’s voice drowned it all out, overrode everything, surmounted and surpassed the gate’s defenses, then wound down, gentled, quieted, and stopped.
Zorce remained untouched. He had thrown a protective shield up around himself. Anothosia’s attack had left only scorch marks on his arms and torso. His temper, however, had been seared. Cold rage blazed in his eyes. Zorce roared his hatred into the depthless darkness of Hell— his call to arms.
“Now, Ani,” Anothosia ordered, “sing to Omitan’s seeds. Bring our allies to life!” Exuberance emanated from her voice. She was obviously in her element and drunk on the power of the song. Ani knew this was Anothosia’s first real test of her power combined with Missa’s gift.
Ani swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. She knew what was expected of her now, but she had not been told exactly what would happen when she loosed her magic.
Anithia raised her voice and sang with every part of her being. She sang of life and the joy in living it. She sang of love, of hope, of the strength of having faith. She sang, and her voice carried past the gates of Hell, over the diamond paved streets, and into all the hidden crevices. Filling her lungs, she made her voice rise above the screams and roars. Her notes searched for the seeds Omitan had spread in his flight. She saw them in her mind’s eye. She sensed their presence with her melody. Reaching out, her voice touched each one and gave it life with her song.
Over the rocky and barren landscape of Hell, Omitan’s seeds sprang forth from the parched ground, nourished only by the Song of Life pouring from the heart and soul of Omitan’s offspring. Entire trees instantly sprang to life, grown from the forest seeds of ancient Lok Mir. From those trees sprang forth gelfs, sprites, tree stalkers, selkies and numerous other servants of Omitan, each ready to defend the forests and the people who called it their home; each ready to avenge the deaths of their brethren.
Chaos erupted as the trees took vengeance on those who had destroyed their ancestors, ravaging the earth and raping its bounty. Branches reached down and pounded hellborn into bloodied piles of pulp, while from above two-headed, wing
ed monsters spit acid upon the trees and all below, hitting some of their own as well.
Ani sang on, pushing her voice deeper into Hell, realizing it was not only the trees she sang into life but also all the hellspawn children who had been unwillingly trapped in Hell when they were sacrificed for another’s greed. Her song coursed through their broken bodies, healed gaping wounds, gave fresh hope. As each spawn was filled with that which was forgotten they turned upon their tormentors, fighting them with every shred of returned strength, courage, and intelligence they had regained.
Cries of surprise and anguish filled the air as Hell’s surface became covered in black, red and green blood. Hell’s diamonds lost their sheen and became slick underfoot.
The battle raged on for what seemed forever; the flow of hellkind ebbing farther and farther back into Hell. Their numbers decreased and their retreat was slowed by the very spawn they had contemptuously tortured.
“Sing Anithia,” Anothosia called out. “Hold fast and sing!”
Hours later, Ani swayed. She was being drained. For every chunk of life their side gained…she lost tiny bits. She fed Omitan’s creatures with the forest god’s nano magic, but part of it came from her, from her own soul energy. After battling so long Ani feared she had not much left to give before nothing remained. She was a stopgap to the horde, a cul-de-sac meant to hold them in check while the real battle raged.
Fire and light still battled on beside her. During the long hours neither Zorce nor Anothosia had gained ground. Ignoring their struggle, Ani sang past a hoarse throat, tasted blood, and her vision blurred. The scene before her seemed to go on perpetually, hellborn fighting spawn and then falling to her voice, Anothosia and Zorce casting energies that warped and ripped at reality. Despairing, Ani knew it would go on forever, knew the stalemate would last for years.
