Ioth, City of Lights

by D P Woolliscroft

  “Are we ready?” asked the Emperor.

  “Yes.” Another person, his voice deep, almost a growl. She could hear their footsteps crunching closer across the soft white sand of the pathways. They should have chosen a more secluded spot. “I have heard from Eryrlaw. Our troops are in position and the fleet is proving capable. Their Wintertide festival is approaching.”

  An arm appeared through the flowery vines and pulled the curtain aside, holding it open for the Emperor to step through. It was as if a second sun brought light to the day as he entered the enclosed space. Gwil’s heart pounded in her chest, as it had done every time she had been in the presence of this tall, phosphorescent figure. She struggled to think of him as a living being, the last elf; he was their god made whole to walk on this land and provide for his people. It was difficult to see his features, his skin was impossibly smooth and the light that emanated from him hurt her eyes if she looked directly for too long; but his pointed ears were clear as day, lying flat against the side of his bald pate.

  Minister Nijil followed closely behind. He was another Ancient, as were all of the Emperor’s inner circle, and he had chosen a form to mirror that of their god. Though where the Emperor was day, the Minister was the deep blue of the night sky, his robes even twinkling with starlight. The final person to follow through was the growler; Taaffe, the First Defender, plates of green glass armoring his torso connected with golden chain.

  Gwil and Tynir practically jumped to their feet, her superior bowing at the head as she genuflected deeply from the waist. As she stood up straight, her eyes were drawn from the floor to look at the Emperor and she was surprised to see that he had stopped.

  “Tynir, good to see you,” he said. “And you too, Gwilenhin. How is little Iob?” It was always a shock when the Emperor remembered her name, let alone that of her children; but he had that habit with everyone. The second time she met the Emperor, she had her first-born child Iob with her, still a babe in a blanket. The Emperor always asked about him. She was a devout believer in the glory of the God-Emperor; but it was times like these, the little details, that really proved to her how much he cared about his people. How they were lucky to have him amongst them.

  “He is good, your most excellent majesty. Doing well in school,” she said, bowing again.

  “I would expect nothing less.” The Emperor turned to Tynir. “Are you discussing the pilgrimage?” Gwil wasn’t sure, but it sounded to her like an additional note of interest came into her Emperor’s voice.

  “Yes, my lord. Gwil was explaining how everything is going according to your wishes.” Gwil silently cursed. Maybe now wasn’t the time to bring up the Alfjarun, but she didn’t want to be cornered later.

  “There is one slight problem, sire,” said Gwil, looking briefly over to her superior. “The Alfjarun. There will be some in attendance, but it may not be quite as complete a pilgrimage as you deserve. Normally, it is much longer before new territory is brought fully into the fold. If you don’t mind me asking, what is it about them that makes them so special?” Gwil found her voice getting shrill by the end of what she wanted to say. She couldn’t believe she was pointing out something abnormal to the Emperor. Her brain finally caught up and she clamped her mouth shut.

  The Emperor raised a hand, and instantly her heart returned to a normal rhythm. “It is fine, Gwilenhin. I know you will have tried your best. After all, are you not in the pilgrimage yourself this year?”

  She nodded, thankful she had not insulted him and that he had been gracious to move past the bad news. “I will be honored to be there,” she said. Gwil had celebrated her thirty-third summer this year and, in accordance with the scripture, she would be walking with the thousands of others of similar age across Pyrfew to gather for the glory of her Emperor; though she did have a much shorter journey than most. It was the event that every good citizen of the empire longed for their entire lives.

  “Good,” said the Emperor. “I look forward to that.” He turned as he finished talking, his interest brief and now over. He strode away through the vine covered tunnel, the Ancients accompanying him nodding a farewell to Tynir and carrying on their way. Within moments they were gone.

  Gwil slumped down into her chair and let out a deep sigh. She looked at her hands and realized they were shaking. When she lifted her head, she saw Tynir appraising her carefully.

  “Well, Gwilenhin. I think we need to discuss the best way to share bad news in the future…”

  Chapter 16

  Obstacle

  The sun was beginning its climb into the sky as Neenahwi continued her trudge slowly uphill, the town of Hyfil far behind her. Though she’d been walking for half the night, she felt alive inside; back to her old self. Was that because she hadn’t used the demon stone in so long? Or was it the afterglow of spending the night with Albert. It had been some time since she’d slept with a man; with anyone in fact. But leaving Albert behind had caused a pang of pain. She could tell that he was falling for her. And if she was being honest with herself, she might have been developing some feelings for him too.

  She turned and looked back the way she had come. The town of Hyfil was visible, nuzzling the shimmering sea, its white buildings glinting in the early morning sun. It could have a good life. A very different life. She’d never really had much interest in commerce before, but the multi-faceted aspects of their planning had appealed to the academic side of her. Maybe once this was all over, she’d be able to return, and she could tell Albert who she really was.

  It would still be a good investment opportunity at least.

  Karole had woken as she’d been leaving the tavern she’d called home the past few weeks; before, she’d have found his flustering infuriating, but his concern was endearing. He’d tried to stop her from leaving during the night, insisting he arrange an escort for her come the morning if she really had to leave. It was strange, but Neenahwi knew the whole town was aware of what she and Albert had been planning. They probably knew everything in fact. The day after they had kissed on top of the tower, after they had spent the night together, the people of the town had seemed even more friendly and happy, asking how her night had been, like they found joy that their King might be finding a partner in life.

  But she’d told Karole that she had to go and she wasn’t sure if she would be back. Eventually he’d relented, especially when he noticed she was wearing the purple robes that she had arrived in, but from the hug he gave her as she was half-way out the door, she could tell that he was taking it pretty hard. As she had walked through the town, colorful cloth decorations strung between buildings for the impending Wintertide festival, Neenahwi had tried very hard not to think about how her departure would hit Albert.

  She continued her walk, slowly uphill toward the peak in the center of the island that Albert had pointed out a couple of nights ago. The way was fairly steady, the scrubby yellow grass-covered ground was sure of footing. Neenahwi didn’t stop for breakfast, but she slipped a snack out from her pack and ate it along the way. The sun was past its zenith when she eventually reached her destination.

  The top of the hill was quite flat, though no structure was visible there. Neenahwi wasn’t surprised by that. Myank had worked out how to hide his tower in Redpool, even as a city slowly grew around it. Turning to face slightly away from where she thought the tower would be, the peak still visible in the corner of her eye, she relaxed her mind and vision, allowing the beauty of this place consume her. It truly was a fabulous location. She could see the whole island from this spot, the Sapphire Sea surrounding Hyfil on all sides. She saw flecks out at sea, wondering if they were Pyrfew ships on patrol or if they were simple fishermen returning home with their catch. She saw sheep dotted against the hill on the other side from her approach, the land falling away to groves of olive trees and fields of shorn wheat.

  And then she caught it. Something tall, that was not there a moment ago, in the corner of her vision.

  Neenahwi latched onto it, concentrat
ing on that image, turning back to seize the tower in her mind’s eye.

  And there it stood, a bright white needle plunged into the earth, a single window some three or four stories up looking down on her. A doorway was visible at the base, but it and the rest of the lower-third of the building appeared to be covered in a thick layer of translucent green slime. Neenahwi almost gasped aloud when she noticed small shocks of blue darting around inside it at random.

  “Help me!” came a voice, but searching around Neenahwi could not see anyone. “Up here,” called the voice again, and Neenahwi looked up to see something resting on the windowsill of that single portal. Was it a head? The person must either be very small if they could only just look out over the windowsill like that or else the window was set very high.

  “Who are you?” she called back, cupping her hand to her mouth so her voice would carry. She stayed rooted to the spot. If Pyrfew had been here before her then who knew if they were still here. They could be lying in wait for anyone who might be on their trail.

  “I’ll tell you if you help me,” came the reply. The voice was reedy and none too polite in tone. She quickly understood why. “Those bastards stole my body. I can’t move.”

  “Are you the caretaker for this tower?” she asked, gambling that this creature, a disembodied head, was similar to the man who had been in service in Redpool. She could imagine that old man would be livid at not being able to hold his broom anymore. It would make sense that Myank would leave someone in charge of each place.

  “Do I look like a servant?”

  Neenahwi held her hand to her brow, shielding her eyes from the sun. “You look like a head, so it’s difficult to tell.”

  “Just come and help me.”

  She realized that she could stand there all day shouting foolishness at this thing, but nobody had time for that. So she strode purposefully forward, intent on doing something about it. As soon as her foot touched the ground, the slime surrounding the tower pulsed and sparks of blue surged within it. It began to bulge around the doorway, growing larger and larger, the ooze congealing into one massive blob stationed in front of the entryway.

  “Actually, you should probably just run away,” called the head. “I forgot that was there. My bad.”

  Neenahwi thought to ask the head what it was, but the slime oozed forwards. As it touched new spots of grass the vegetation sparked into flame and burned to nothing. Shit. She took a frantic step back, her hand fishing in the leather satchel she wore across her shoulder. Pulling out the amulet her father had given her, she flipped it over her head as she split her consciousness.

  That ball of roiling red energy formed in her hand, just as when she fought the Pyrfew ships. It had worked well then; she’d blow this thing into globs of jelly in no time. Neenahwi reached back her arm and threw the magic grenade at the great mass of slime. A hole opened in the membrane of the ooze as the fiery ball was about to hit, catching and enveloping it in the translucent green slime, then closed quickly behind. The ball exploded, and though the creature expanded, a ripple moving across its surface, there was no outward sign of damage. The hole opened again in the ooze’s membrane and a cloud of flame rose harmlessly into the air.

  The hole did not immediately close; instead the ooze convulsed again and a huge gob of slime shot out to land half-way toward Neenahwi. She scoffed at the poor attempt to fire at her, but her contempt died on her lips as the blob of ooze grew taller. It reached about three feet high, arms growing from the sides of the column of guck, the base splitting to form two shapeless legs, and finally a shimmering face devoid of features molded. Neenahwi hadn’t seen anything like this before. Twice more the bigger glob spat out these globlings. She blew out her cheeks as she watched the blue sparks running inside the gelatinous insides of these creatures also. Why was nothing easy? Arms outstretched, they moved slowly toward her, the grass smoldering and sizzling where they passed.

  Fuck. Was this Llewdon’s work or Myank’s? It had to be Llewdon as it sounded like that head had recently been assaulted… though when you’re already dead, recently could be a relative word. If it was Myank then maybe that head knew what to do.

  “Any ideas?” she called out to the witness on the window ledge.

  “I would be shrugging if I had shoulders,” it rasped back.

  Neenahwi grunted in frustration and Jyuth’s words came back to her, be creative. She looked around as she backed up—over to one side she saw an outcropping of rocks at the edge of a drop. She fractured her mind once more; she’d never tried this before and she needed to be ready if it didn’t work. Her consciousness reached out to touch the well of power in the demon stone and hungrily drew the energy inside her. Like a fishwife, she weaved a magical net and cast it at the rocks. She could feel it as the edges of the spell dove into the earth, running beneath the boulders submerged there. The ground rumbled, and from it rose a stone giant, boulder balanced on boulder in a parody of a figure, held together with her magical string.

  She guided the stone creature between her and the advancing slimes, it quickly closed the distance with long strides that boomed as each foot hit the ground. The globlings were closing on her, their arms dripping slime that fell to the ground with a sizzle, to then be reabsorbed as the creature advanced. She stopped her retreat. It was time to fight. A shadow was briefly cast over the globling closest to her as a great stone arm raised into the air, blocking the sun before it smashed down. The globling exploded, the impact of the giant’s arm with the earth sending shards of stone fragments and lumps of sod into the air, and knocking Neenahwi clean off her feet to land on her back some distance away. Splatters of slime landed around her, one glob landing on her bare arm that burned like fuck. She quickly wiped it on the grass but her arm already bore a deep nasty burn that screamed for attention. Shit. She should have had the foresight to shield herself, quickly rectifying the situation.

  “Impressive,” called the head in the window. “Though not particularly nuanced.”

  “Shut up,” muttered Neenahwi under her breath as she regained her feet.

  The globling was gone, and her stone giant stood tall again, preparing to strike once more. It was covered with slime from the impact, splatters of ooze up its arm and across its body, still arced with a blue light. Down came the other arm and another globling disappeared in a gelatinous shower that sprayed the giant and the surrounding area. The mother ooze fired three more shimmering balls of slime onto the ground in front of it. Each one forming into a globling, though larger this time around. It seemed to Neenahwi like the mother ooze was getting smaller with each birth. A glimmer of hope stirred in her gut that if she could keep this up, then eventually it would exhaust itself.

  The stone giant dispatched the last of the small slime-men, the white rock now covered almost head to waist with the sparkling slime. Neenahwi momentarily considered what the Deep People would make of her improvised juggernaut; the craftsmanship was hardly the same, though it did have a certain imposing quality. Neenahwi willed it forwards, her fractured consciousness controlling its limbs as if they were her own, the pile-drivers of stone that were its arms swinging forward to swipe into the newly made creatures. The ooze parted as the stone fists swept through their bodies, coagulating around the construct’s limbs.

  It was becoming harder and harder to control the stone giant. It was slowing down, like it was trudging through mud, and the mental exertion to attack another of the globlings brought beads of sweat to her forehead. Another ooze exploded from contact with a stony fist and the slimy coating to her stone giant increased. Now she could not move its arms at all. Slowly the giant swiveled at the waist, the massive boulder that was its torso grating as it ground against the stone of its hips. She clenched her teeth and willed for the stone giant to go in the other direction but she couldn’t stop it turning toward her.

  “The ooze seems to have a new plaything,” called the head as the final globling willingly threw itself onto the body of the stone giant.
>
  “Do you want rescuing or not?” she cried at the head in frustration. It was right, though it pained her to admit it. The clear green slime coated the giant from almost head to knee and it was the ooze-mother who controlled it now. The arm of the giant raised into the air and she knew that she was the next thing to be squished.

  The slime was not yet coating the legs of the boulder behemoth, but she could see it oozing down toward the ground. Neenahwi focused all her attention into making her creation move away from her, its arms swingy wildly in frustration. The giant increased speed until it was running at full tilt to where it had dragged itself from the ground. Neenahwi forced it to leap into the air off the escarpment and then she released the weave of her spell. The stones of the giant’s legs separated in midair, boulders falling away in different arcs though the ooze kept the rest of the creature in one piece. At least, until it hit the ground—where it smashed into all of its ooze-coated constituent pieces, scattering and rolling away down the hill.

  Neenahwi blew out her cheeks, her heartbeat calming from the exertion as she turned back to face the tower. Time to take care of the rest of the bloody thing.

  She stumbled back in shock.

  A wall of the remaining slime towered over her. She saw her open-mouthed reflection in its shimmering surface, the blue lights crisscrossing inside. It had advanced silently and quickly and she had time only for one silent curse—shit—before it crashed down, engulfing her in the caustic slime.

  “Look out!” came a cry from the head on the window ledge. “Oh, too late. How disappointing.”

  Chapter 17

  Time Off Under The Mountain