by A F Stewart
The God of Souls took his stance in the sky while the Goddess of the Sea dove into her element. And they waited.
To the west of Raven Rock, the clouds in the sky darkened into a drab, repressed colour of charcoal, tinged with a hint of red. The sea began to bubble and churn, black foam spewing into the air. In the ocean, beyond the churning water, Lynna, Bevire, and the ships waited. Rafe stood ready in the sky with a regular arrow notched in his bow. He spun the wooden shaft with his magic for extra potency. The black arrow still hummed in the quiver, held in reserve, awaiting the perfect moment for the kill.
On the island, Manume held the portal conduit in the silver magic of the moon, a grin plastered on her face. Across from her, the Grey Sisters cackled. “He’s coming!”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Rise of Ashetus
GREEN TENTACLES COATED in pale ooze and red slime broke the ocean’s surface. Three, four, six, and then ten tentacles waving and thrashing, trying to snatch at something, anything. The crown of a head surfaced next like a grotesque child being born into the world. Sickly green and bulbous, snaked with black veins, the head pushed out of the water and glared at the world with six crimson eyes, round holes of fire sunk into what passed for its face. At last, its mouth came into view, a pulsing slit salivating and scraping its rows of jagged teeth together.
For a moment, it bobbed like a swollen carcass spit out from the depths of the sea, and then it rolled on its back, swinging the full length of its gigantic body to the surface. It raised a scaled, tapered fish tail and smashed it down against the water. A tidal wave rose and rolled, looming straight up over the sea, and Ashetus roared one word.
“Death!”
The great tail-generated wave swelled higher and higher into a towering wall of water and with it came the dead. Thousands and thousands of bones ascended from the sea, skeletons ancient and brittle, bleached white, some gnawed and broken, some still with bits of hanging flesh. Freshly decayed corpses rose as well. Newly dead flesh in naval uniform or sailor garb and slightly older bodies half-rotted were plucked from their watery graves. Each poor soul wailed, their remains given tainted life and pain.
Ashetus roared again. “You are mine! This world is mine!”
“No, Abomination! It is not!” From far above, Rafe shouted his bold challenge and loosed his first magic-tinged arrow. The projectile sped down, down and pierced Ashetus above one of its crimson eyes. The Terrible One screamed, and the whole of Raven Rock shook. The ocean shuddered from surface to bedrock, and the wave of bones shattered. Rafe watched the dead tumble back into the sea and the great beast thrashed in pain. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lynna calm the seas as the ships fought to stay off the rocks.
“It burns! It burns of stars!”Ashetus swung a tentacle and plucked the arrow from its flesh, crushing the small shaft to powder. “Jailor! Tormentor! Vile God of the Hunt! You will die! You and your Shadow Bird!” The six eyes of Ashetus stared at Rafe, glaring with an intensity of hatred to destroy worlds, and its tentacles crashed against the sea.
Rafe loosed another arrow and then another to draw the beast’s full attention. To bring him closer for the killing shot. One barb pierced a tentacle, and the other plucked out an eye. Ashetus screamed and lashed out sending a wave of water straight up into the air. Rafe dodged the airborne spray, shocked at its aim and power. As he moved in for another shot, he saw Ashetus sink under the water.
Rafe shouted a warning. “Lynna, watch out! He’s submerged!”
But it wasn’t his sister that the danger stalked.
Suddenly, the sea erupted and Ashetus leapt from the depths into the sky. Its tentacles spread like bony wings, and its tail flapped like a rudder. Around it shimmered a ruddy glow.
Magic.
It hovered in the sky, blotting out sun and clouds only yards away from Rafe. Blood ran from its wounded eye, and its mouth hung open, drool dripping teeth showing. From deep within its belly, something rumbled. A dark, harsh laugh.
Rafe shivered.
“You are not the God of the Hunt for all you hold his Bow.” A tentacle wriggled forward, and Rafe slid away having no desire to be touched by the creature.
“You know fear. Good.” Ashetus squirmed, and a sound like the long inhale of a breath came from its mouth. “You smell of him. Of Stars and strange Gods. But not him.”
“No, I am not him.” Rafe finally found his voice. He reached behind his shoulder towards the quiver. Ashetus twitched, and Rafe halted his movement. Waiting.
“Little pinpricks. Shot. Survived. Eye will grow back.” The creature waved a tentacle and moved closer. “Didn’t kill. Like him.”
Rafe moved his hand closer to the quiver. Ashetus didn’t react. Rafe slowly drew the black arrow and notched the bow. Ashetus did nothing. Rafe steadied his breath. “I am not afraid to kill you.”
Then its tentacles whipped in front of its body like a shield, blocking a clear aim, a killing shot. Rafe circled around past clouds, trailing blue energy, trying to find an opening. Ashetus kept pace and denied him a chance. He moved closer, and, suddenly, the beast inhaled again.
“Another scent. Familiar scent.” A scream resounded, vibrating the air and knocking Rafe off balance. The beast swept forward still screaming, “You smell of Death!” It lashed a tentacle at Rafe with tremendous force.
Rafe threw up a shield of magic as Ashetus’ blow landed, smashing him across the sky. His energy protected him from broken bones and a fractured skull, but not from pain and bruises or the edge of Ashetus’ limb from striking a glancing blow on his head. He fumbled the bow and arrow, barely managing to keep them from falling into the sea. Over his trajectory he had no control and only succeeded in cushioning his fall with his magic. Into the trees of Raven Rock, he plunged, his descent cutting a new path through the foliage on the far side of the island until he tumbled to a stop on the rocky beach.
As the world spun and the light dimmed, in the distance he heard the wail of a horn.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Last of the Dead
LYNNA WATCHED IN SHOCK as Ashetus delivered a vast blow to her brother. She stared at the great beast floating in the sky, fear slithering across her thoughts. Then, beneath her, the sea rumbled and screamed. Fountains of water shot from the depths: waterspouts, waves, geysers, and gushes of spray sending thousands of the dead rising to attack. Swarms swept over the ships and shadow-infused cannon fire boomed from the three ships, echoing sounds of battle. Waves of bones rushed at Lynna, and she—dealing with the loss of Rafe and facing the great beast and his army—frantically blew the Horn.
A howl of mourning blustered out from the instrument, a long note holding sorrow and the surviving echo of forgotten starlight. Its harmony of melancholy raced across the sea building, swelling, cresting to a zenith. It collided with the advancing legions of Ashetus and broke over their numbers penetrating into each bit of rotted flesh, each fragment of bone. It vibrated within them, promising oblivion, the smashing end of their perverted existence.
For a moment, the dead sighed ready to welcome their undoing. Their numbers halted, and they ceased their assault, suspended in a fragment of time on the edge of realms. Some crumbled to dust or were smashed by swords and cannon. Other bodies sank back under the waves. The Horn shook the enemy to the verge of defeat.
Then Ashetus roared.
And that roar echoed in the throats of a thousand dead, filling bone and corpse with unhallowed supremacy, counteracting the power of the Horn. A howl of the damned reverberated in the bay and across Raven Rock. The Goddess of the Moon screamed in answer, and the Grey Sisters cried out. The crew of the ships cowered before the enemy despite any bravery or determination in their thoughts, and Lynna felt the intense backlash in her blood, in the connection she had with the Horn.
Then the waves of the dead swept over the Goddess of the Sea.
Wailing throngs of skeletons grabbed at her, bony fingers digging into her flesh, pulling her deep into the
ocean in a vain attempt to drown her. They grasped for the Horn as she kicked and thrashed, and she clasped it tight to her chest protecting it with her arms. In her ears, she heard the guttural, hissing voices of the dead.
“The Horn. The Horn. Destroy the Horn. Ashetus commands we destroy the Horn.”
As they dragged her to the bottom of the sea, her attackers smashed at her with fists, bit her arms with their broken teeth, yanking, tugging, desperate to pry the Horn from her grasp. She kicked at them, battered them with currents and underwater swells, snapped their bones with her teeth, and lashed out with her magic. Yet, for every skeleton she dislodged, another took its place until, in desperation, she twisted, breaking free enough to raise the Horn to her lips.
In pain and tears, she blew a long, loud broken note. A squealing wobble of discord, of sorrow scraping through an infinity of strife and fear smashing down the ages that blasted into the sea. The dead burst off her, tumbling through the water, and she gasped in relief. She swam, trying to escape, but they came at her again with their reaching bones and their wails.
She turned on them with a snarl and blew the Horn once more. From its bell, sounded a challenge. A noise that cut into her as well as her enemy. Lynna’s whole body shuddered, her back arched in a spasm of unbounded energy as her power poured out of the Horn, bound into the thunderous tenor of its bellow.
The sea shook with the released magic moving as a spreading wave of power, and, in a blink of an eye, the dead were gone. Nothing more than dust and fragments sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Lynna floated, dazed, unsure of what happened, shocked that the fight ended so abruptly. She closed her eyes letting the soothing water rock her, so tempted to stay, but the prickling of the Horn still called to her.
The battle is not won.
She opened her eyes. Sore and bleeding she swam up to the air, up to the light, to a war that needed to be fought. She surfaced to chaos and thunder.
Another army of the dead were dancing over water and wave as the cannon from the three ships boomed against encroaching swells. Hordes of the dead clung to the vessels sides and rigging while more fought with the crews. Lynna saw wisps of shadow magic arc in the air as sailors’ swords sliced through bone and corpse in battles that raged across sea washed decks.
She swept controlled waves against the ships to scrape away the dead clinging to the sides and smashed their bony carcasses into the advancing legions. She then raised the Horn and blew two notes, short and sharp, that shattered against the first tide of attackers still in the sea.
The crack of their bones rebounded across the bay as the dead fell to the sound of the Horn, their fragmented bodies sinking back to underwater graves. Three waves of Ashetus’ soldiers collapsed, but more surged to replace them. As Lynna raised the Horn to battle again, the frantic clanging of a bell broke through the noise and confusion.
Lynna turned instinctively to the Jewel, but it was not her bell that clanged. No, it was the Sprightly Lark that sounded the alarm. Screams and shouts echoed off the ship as a wave of the dead smashed into the ship and spun it around. Lynna heard panicked voices and cries of ‘Help!’ and ‘Save us!’ as three more breakers barrelled towards the ship carrying hundreds of screaming skeletons.
She arched her hand through the sea, trailing verdant magic and a great wave expanded into existence racing to block the attack. Lynna raised the Horn, but suddenly Ashetus roared. His voice sped the air into a force of tremendous wind, knocking Lynna off balance and under the water. She surfaced almost immediately, but not in time.
Above her, Ashetus laughed.
Lynna watched helplessly as two of the waves slammed into the ship, and hordes of the dead overran the Sprightly Lark. Her counter wave crashed into the third attack deflecting it and sending the bones back into the sea. She raced to intercept as the sea rolled and rose again.
Lynna called to the ocean, singing out to the water with an undulating cry and brought her element from the depths. A wall of water ascended into the air to form a majestic height of sea and Lynna placed it between the ship and the advancing throng of creatures. She held the line as the attack smashed into her defensive wall, and then pushed forward, slamming again and again against the army of the dead, crushing all that came against her and sending their remains into the deeps.
Still, it was not enough to save the Sprightly Lark.
Behind her, she heard the loud, ear-splitting crack of rending wood. She spun to see the Sprightly Lark pointed bow first towards the shore, smashed against the rocks with her port side gashed open, and the ship taking on water. Skeletons and corpses swarmed the ship, attacking sailors, pulling men into the water to drown. On the listing quarterdeck, she saw Commander Vaughan swinging his sword through a mass of snarling bones.
With a cry and a breath, Lynna commanded the ocean. She brought waves crashing over the ship, plucking the sailors from the clutches of the dead into the surf. Eddies swirled inside the broken vessel at her command and pulled out men trapped in its bowels. At her direction, the sea plucked all still living from the clutches of death and set them careening to the shore to wash up on the sand.
Then she turned on the dead.
She heaved the attackers of the Sprightly Lark high into the air in gushing sprays of sea, smashing them into oblivion against the circling form of Ashetus. The beast howled in pain, peppered and speared in bits of broken bone. Blood dripped and smeared across his skin, another eye pierced by a fractured arm bone. He flourished his tentacles and yanked the fragments of the dead from his bloated body tossing the bloodied bits into his mouth and crunching them between his teeth.
Below the beast, Lynna closed her eyes. She submerged just below the surface and blew all her fury into the Horn.
A cacophonous squall broke, booming across the ocean up and out of the water into the sky. It struck all the congregated dead in the sea and on the ships like a battering ram, smashing into them as a solid geyser of sound. It ripped them apart, pulverizing decay and bone, turning the shouts of the living into the screams of the dead.
In the span of a lap of the tide on the shore, the army of the dead collapsed, transforming into powder floating on the sea. From the sky, their master watched.
As the last of its slaves, its dead, turned to dust, the Terrible One yowled and descended from the sky. Ashetus spun, a whirligig of fury, splattering blood, and mocking laughter, its tentacles lashing out creating a rotating circle. It dove towards the sea, a limb nearly crushing the top of the Jewel’s main mast, and another carving a gouge in the foremast of the Star’s Hope. The great beast skimmed the surface of the bay racing straight for Lynna.
She rose on a massive sea wave to meet it, her face alive in defiance, her body draped in an emerald glow of magic, and the Horn at her lips. She blew a trumpet blast, a perfect note of the wild, powerful sea, and sounded her challenge to the Terrible One.
The howl of a hurricane melded with the crash of the pounding surf as the thundering music of the Horn filled the air. It washed over god, beast, and sailor in a lifting tide, cutting deep into the essence of each living being present. Cries of awe and bravado rose from the ships and beach, and, from the Terrible One, came an answering roar of pain and fury.
“It burns! Burns! Vile Horn!” Ashetus swiftly changed course, breaking off his attacking run on Lynna and climbed into the sky. He thrashed his limbs and ground his teeth, and gusts of wind swept across the sea.
Lynna spun a giant waterspout and ascended far above the water. In swirling sea and foam, she stood far above Raven Rock, rage and fear warring in her face as she stared at Ashetus. She shuddered at the sight of it, wriggling tentacles and rows of teeth under cruel red eyes. Every scrap of dread, anger, and horror she felt burst out in a scream.
“Abomination!”
Ashetus stilled, its body stopped moving. It looked at Lynna with its eyes, a hint of confusion within his gaze. Its voice growled up from its belly.
“Death called me that. Once.” It cl
icked its teeth, drool spilling out. “She said, ‘Abomination’ and cast me out.” A laugh rumbled. “But I showed her. I am Abomination. And more. I am more than Death.” Ashetus shook, his body quaking in cruel and dreadful laughter.
Lynna snarled under her breath and felt the Horn quiver in her hand, calling for her to use it, calling for her to end the thing before her. She brought it to her lips and sounded its song.
At the touch of the first note, the space between sky and sea keened in boundless beauty, in a story of never-ending starlight and tranquillity, of the first meeting of eternity and death. The Horn blew a melody of sorrow wrapped in a sigh, snatched from the first hope of life and encircled past the world’s finality. The sound of the Horn shook the fabric of the realms and pierced the soul of every creature. It cut to the heart of darkness and shone warm starlight into the abyss.
Ashetus screamed.
And with him, the world.
The echo of his voice chased the reverberation of the Horn, striking dread and terror into the farthest corners of the Outer Islands. Every man and god at Raven Rock and beyond trembled. Every soul in the After World cringed in fear.
Lynna gasped in the shock of it all, and her control wavered. Her magic faltered. The waterspout collapsed and she fell, only just breaking her descent with a hastily conjured wave. She was swept back under the sea before surfacing to find the rapidly plunging form of Ashetus falling toward her.
She blew the Horn, another powerful blast straight at Ashetus.
It shrieked and veered away but lashed out with its tentacles. Green slimy tips smashed into her arm and shoulder and the Horn went flying from her grasp. It rose into the air in an arch, tumbling like a seashell tossed from the beach as Lynna cried out in panic.
