Four Gods

by Sebastian H. Alive

  “You have it?” asked Gomorrah stepping up close behind him.

  “Yes, my King.”

  Mordechai bent low over the table to examine the warm deep red liver of the sacrificial animal and was silent for some time.

  “What do you see?” demanded the King losing patience. “What is your vision of my future?”

  “I do not have a vision, my King,” said the enchanter looking up from the plate. “I am just an observer and interpreter of markings. This is an exploration of what could be based on the immediately relevant and I see many things and all linked to you.”

  “Will my enemies be crushed?” asked Gomorrah with a glint in his eye.

  “You will take the South and the Piathaleas will bend their knee to you as will the Nakaloo in the West but the tribes in the East will not be cowed, my King.”

  “Then I will take my army and sweep across their plains and destroy their warring clans one-by-one. I will eradicate them from history, their families, livelihoods, customs and traditions so that nothing will remain. Those that seek to oppose me will feel my full wrath.”

  “All is not as it seems though, my King,” muttered Mordechai with a frown as he looked back down at the liver closely. “Where there should be many factions I only see one entity.”

  “Meaning?” growled Gomorrah.

  “A boy with no face becomes a man. He will be a great danger to us all my King and will ignite a whole movement. The tribes of the Ruined Lands are scattered far and wide but he will unite them all under his rule. Blood feuds, discord and disagreement will be cast aside and he will lead them against your might.”

  “I am the Great King above all Gods and I fear no one not least a young whelp with a fledging army of mud scavengers too busy squabbling over the food reserves of another. I will meet his challenge and we will face each other deep in Eastern territory.”

  “There is more, my King” whispered the enchanter squinting hard at the liver. “Your most trusted becomes your most hated. He who protects the Royal blood will offer his sword to fight against you.”

  “Agamemnon!” hissed Gomorrah angrily.

  The enchanter peered deep at the organ on the plate then suddenly his eyes widened and he gasped out loud.

  “What is it?” demanded the King.

  Mordechai took a couple of steps away from the plate shaking his head.

  “They walk amongst us.” he whispered.

  “Make sense, fool!” roared Gomorrah.

  “I have seen the first and the last. You have angered the Four Gods, my King. Magdalenian, Akkadian, Hephaestus and Dar Thadian.” he whimpered fearfully.

  Gomorrah leaned in close to the enchanter and laid a meaty hand on his frail shoulder and squeezed painfully.

  “I am your God,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “And I submit to no deity. They cannot stop me. Not them, not Agamemnon, not the whelp or the savages, no one. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, my King.” mumbled Mordechai nodding his head.

  “They can die?” asked Gomorrah tugging at his forked beard thoughtfully.

  “Beings born of Old magic can die by Old magic, my King.”

  “Then their fate is now sealed. Find them and I will send my Meldlings to destroy them where they stand.”

  “Yes, my King. It will be as you say.”

  “Now I must go, I have much to think about.”

  Turning the King moved ponderously towards the door of the chamber then paused without looking around.

  “A seer came to me once a few years ago. Many claimed he was the best in the land. His name was Chozai. He said he knew the day of my death and had seen it many times already. Do you want to know what he said? He said I would die with a sword in my gut surrounded by bright red poppies with my Lord Commander stood by my side. Do you know what is strange? I dislike poppies and equally disliked my Lord Commander. I had the head of Chozai impaled on a spike, my Lord Commander’s throat slit whilst he slept, had every poppy field in Tarlath burnt to the ground and outlawed sowing new seeds.”

  Gomorrah suddenly laughed the sound cold and hollow.

  “The best in the land yet I am still here ruling. The future is malleable; it can be pressed into any shape you want. Remember that, enchanter.”

  Opening the door the King left the chamber and closed it behind him leaving Mordechai alone. The enchanter stared down at his hands and saw that they were trembling and he muttered a curse under his breath.

  He too had held council with Chozai the Visionary. The man has foreseen the death of King Ethelred and the birth of a royal daughter and was often cryptic but never wrong.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  The seaport town of Marvao

  Agamemnon spurred his mount up the steep grassy hill and pulled back on the reins, bringing his horse to a stop on the very crest. Looking up he stared at the clouds as they drifted across the bright sky and inhaled deeply smelling the salt air laced on the slight breeze. His eyes rested on the enormous mountains looming before them and the rocky, boulder strewn narrow trail that cut through the range.

  “We have made it,” he said in a soft voice. “Beyond the mountains is the seaport town of Marvao.”

  Anya followed his gaze and said nothing but her eyes were wide and fearful.

  “If your view was clear you would be able to see to the end of the horizon where there is nothing but the vastness of blue water unobstructed by hills or valleys.” continued the swordsman.

  “I have never been on a boat before in all my life.” whispered Anya.

  “Are you scared?”

  She nodded her head quickly and clutched her cloth doll tightly with one hand.

  “What is it like?” she asked looking around at him.

  “It is like gliding on air,” said Agamemnon with a wide smile. “Don’t worry, you will soon get used to it.”

  “But what if something were to happen out in the water where there is no land? I cannot swim.”

  “Then our journey will come to a premature end because neither can I.” chortled the swordsman.

  “You mock me.” retorted Anya with a flash of anger in her eyes.

  “I mock myself, Anya. But have no fear. I know a man named Hennig. He operates a small merchant vessel at the port which is seaworthy and dependant on how fickle the winds are we could be off the coast of Piathaleas in 3 days.”

  “Is it a big boat?”

  “It is big enough and we will have living quarters on board. We will be comfortable.”

  “Where will the horse sleep?” she asked innocently.

  “I’m afraid this is the end of the journey for brave-heart. We will take a little coin for the horse when we get there and he will have a good home.”

  Shaking her head in disbelief she bent down in the saddle and rested her head against the neck of the horse.

  “Will you be leaving me also?” she whimpered with her voice trembling.

  Agamemnon considered lying but thought better of it.

  “Yes, when we get to a safe place, Anya,” he said. “I will always be a danger to you. Your father has a long memory and he will not easily forget what I have done to him.”

  “But what about me?” she cried looking up at him with tears springing to her eyes.

  “Your father has many enemies both home and across the waters but your mother still has allies even in death. I will seek them out but know this; I will not leave you until I know you are safe from danger. That is my promise to you.”

  “I…I wish you were my father.”

  “You cannot change the blood that runs through your veins Anya but you deserve to wake up every morning and feel free, not afraid. That is not something I can ever give you. Do you understand?”

  She wiped her eyes and nodded her head sadly as she straightened in the saddle.

  “I understand.”

  “Good girl, now when we get to Marvao keep your head down and do not speak of whom you are or mention the King as your father has eyes an
d ears everywhere. Can you do that for me?” asked Agamemnon looking up towards the towering mountains in front of them.

  She didn’t respond and the swordsman glanced back at her.

  “Anya?” he said.

  Her face was pale and she was staring behind him into the distance with her small mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Cursing, Agamemnon swivelled in the saddle turning his head sharply and his breath caught in his throat. Moving impossibly fast and bearing down on them was a huge Meldling. It had light grey fur and was heavily muscled with long razor sharp talons and dagger-like teeth protruding from its ferocious, gaping maw. The creature was almost wolf-like in appearance but ran on two powerful legs and when it saw them looking back at it the Meldling howled triumphantly.

  “Hang on,” yelled Agamemnon as he kicked his horse into a gallop.

  With a whimper Anya closed her eyes, bending low in the saddle and wrapping her thin arms tightly around the horse’s neck as they thundered down the hill with her red hair whipping out behind her. The swordsman risked a quick glance over his shoulder but there was no sign of the beast appearing over the summit as they reached the base of the hill where the horse nearly lost its footing on some loose dirt but then righted itself on the long grass and rode at full speed.

  “Come on.” roared Agamemnon whipping the reins with his eyes fixed on the narrow trail that cut through the mountains.

  “We won’t make it!” screamed Anya looking back in terror.

  He threw another look behind him and flinched as the Meldling bounded over the highest point of the hill and hurtled down the steep side still gaining, getting closer and closer. The ground blurred beneath the horses' hooves but the animal was labouring and nearing exhaustion now as again Agamemnon brought the reins down hard with a sickening realisation that Anya was right. The terrain was becoming rocky now and huge monolithic stone boulders dotted the landscape and the swordsman veered his mount to the nearest one and dragged back on the reins skittering to a halt next to the large, worn rock.

  “Climb!” he shouted pointing up at a horizontal shelf built into the boulder.

  “I can’t.” gasped Anya looking up at the ledge.

  “Climb or you die.” hissed Agamemnon hauling her to a standing position in the saddle.

  She reached up tentatively and looked for purchase, any kind of grip in the rock and pulled herself up but her fingers missed the crevice and she fell back down into the saddle.

  “You can do this, Anya. Just one finger hold at a time.”

  Hoisting her back up he took a deep breath as her searching hands found a crack and she cautiously dragged her body up the rock wall towards the ledge barely wide enough for the both of them. Agamemnon heard an ear piercing howl which jolted him from his upward gaze and without looking around he scrambled from the saddle and found a toehold and crevice. With his heart pounding furiously in his chest he quickly dragged himself up the face of the boulder when he suddenly lost his footing and slipped clanging his sword against the rough surface. As he fell his hands desperately snaked out and he felt his nails tearing from their beds painfully and his forehead cracked against the stone as he found a hold. His vision blurred momentarily and he shouted angrily at the rock then reached out with bloodied fingers and pulled himself heavily up.

  “I’m….scared.” cried Anya pausing and hugging the wall above him.

  “Don’t look down,” shouted Agamemnon breathlessly. “Aim for the side of the ledge and jump across to it. I’m right below you.”

  With numb fingers he worked his way up the climb and this time when he reached up his hand brushed the foot of Anya.

  “I…I can’t go anymore.” she sobbed anchoring herself against the face fearfully.

  “You must, Anya. You must!” he said realising she was in trouble. “If you fall we both fall.”

  She looked up quickly feeling for hand holes and pushed her feet against the boulder inching her way closer to the shelf. With his face contorted in pain and his muscles burning Agamemnon forced himself higher. Suddenly below them the horse whinnied in fear and the swordsman looked down to see the mount rear up in panic as the Meldling buried its great fangs into the animal’s throat and brought it to the ground. It thrashed its great shaggy head from side-to-side violently tearing at the horse’s flesh spraying blood into the air before glaring up at them with baleful yellow-gold eyes. Growling low in its throat the Meldling stood and sniffed the air then reached up with an elongated arm towards the rock but its long fingers ended in talons couldn’t find a hold big enough. Tearing his eyes away from the beast the swordsman glanced back up towards Anya who had drawn level with the side of the ledge and was holding on tightly to the boulder with her face pinched with fear.

  “Take a breath and jump, Anya.” he yelled.

  At the sound of his voice the Meldling roared defiantly pacing up and down at the foot of the rock. Anya licked her lips nervously then bunched her legs and threw herself onto the shelf and landed heavily with her arm dangling over the edge and Agamemnon closed his eyes in relief. With infinite care he pulled himself up the dizzying drop until he was alongside her then allowed himself a rest taking short, shallow breaths.

  “Anya, I’m going to jump now.” he said.

  Nodding her head she shuffled to the back of the shelf and he propelled himself onto the narrow rock projection on the side of the boulder. Landing on his feet he grabbed Anya and she buried her head against his chest sobbing uncontrollably.

  “Brave girl.” he said kissing her forehead.

  “My…my Jolecia is down there.” she cried pointing a finger towards the edge without looking up at him.

  Agamemnon peered over the shelf and located the cloth doll sprawled on the ground near to the dead horse. As he did so the Meldling locked eyes with him and they stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Then the beast sank to its haunches and buried its bloodied maw back into the carcass and ripped at the horse meat devouring it whilst snapping its jaws.

  “We…we are trapped.” said Anya lifting her head up and staring at him through watery eyes.

  “Brave girl.” he repeated grimly with his eyes fixed on the Meldling.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  The capital city of Tarlath

  Ingrith stood in front of the King, her stance straight, her eyes directly meeting his powerful gaze. Flanking the Royal throne were two hulking monstrosities. To his left stood a Meldling with a long lean body and a catlike massive skull with powerful jaw muscles. Its pale yellow coat was marked with rosettes and a long tail hung behind it beating back and forth. To the King’s right stood the other, a creature with the face of a lizard, scaly with a long, yellow, deeply forked tongue which flicked out from its mouth occasionally testing the air. This Meldling had no fur but its skin was reinforced by armoured scales and it had claws the length of daggers. Skulking in the background and never far from the side of Gomorrah was his enchanter, Mordechai, glaring at her with open hostility. The King stared at her for a few minutes and she wondered whether he was going to speak to her at all when he suddenly did so.

  “Fine creatures, are they not?” he said in a low, deep voice.

  Standing stiffly Ingrith glanced at the Meldlings then back at the King with no emotion on her face.

  “They are unnatural, my King but fascinating all the same.” she answered.

  The King studied her slowly and a ghost of a smile flickered about his lips.

  “You hide your fear well, old woman.”

  “Your beasts do not scare me, my King. If I am to die today, then that is your will.”

  “Do you want to die today?”

  “No,” she replied choosing her words carefully. “The body may be weak but the mind still serves you well, my King.”

  “It is true you have given me worthy service Ingrith, and as such you should be rewarded. I could merge you with an animal of your choosing, make you stronger than you could ever imagine.” said Gomorrah with a mocking gleam i
n his eyes.

  “You honour me, my King, but if my people are to trust me then they cannot fear me.”

  “Fear is a necessity,” he snapped with his eyes boring into her intensely. “Those that rule over people need to inspire fear so that they will obey and not oppose. If you can inspire fear in people then you can rule and if you can rule then you can conquer. Fear preserves you and produces a strong and united nation. Those that oppose you are killed as a lesson and a message to the people and thus the circle of fear continues.”

  Ingrith remained tight-lipped as Gomorrah pushed his huge frame from the throne and stood up. He approached the Meldling on his left and looked the creature up and down then grunted in satisfaction.

  “These two are my most favourite of all my pets and I regard them preciously,” he said. “Both animals used in the merge were imported from faraway lands and hugely expensive. This one has been blended with a big cat from the deep dense forest of Lindorith. It was an agile tree climber, silent, sleek and strong, a stealth predator that could pounce on you from above. You would be dead before you hit the ground.”

  The King moved to the right and stared at the other Meldling then nodded his head in appreciation.

  “This one was merged with the largest living lizard known to exist. It came from Dorwin, a volcanic island that has never been populated by man. See its rows of teeth? Once it bites you are dead. Even if you managed to free yourself from its serrated teeth it will already have injected you with several toxic poisons from glands in its lower jaw. The mouth of this Meldling is connected by a flexible joint and I am told it could eat a goat whole. Imagine that?”

  A shiver ran through Ingrith as she gazed at the creature and watched as its long forked tongue extended from its mouth and sampled the air.

  “Both come from completely different habitats yet both serve me now,” said Gomorrah turning to face her. “My blood runs through their veins and with each new Meldling my army gets stronger.”