The God King (Book 1) (Heirs of the Fallen) Page 15

  A string of curses and spittle flew from Uzzret’s tongue. He was old, but anger made him strong. Ellonlef warded off the attack as best she could, but when the crazed flurry proved too much, she ducked her head and leaned into him. Reaching out, she pawed at the front of his robes until gaining a hard, twisting grip on his manhood. Howling in pain, the magus fell on her. Ellonlef wrenched savagely at his genitals, earning her a braying squeal.

  A pair of demonic soldiers tugged her off Uzzret, dragged her a little way off, and dumped her like a sack of grain. Uzzret crawled off in the other direction, sobbing.

  Varis came near, studying her with his corpse eyes. “You must forgive Uzzret,” he said. “He is rather devoted to my happiness.”

  Ellonlef wiped the blood from her split lips. “I’d say his devotion has become madness.”

  Varis shrugged. “Fanaticism has it’s uses. There will be many others who share it. And, after I take the Ivory Throne, those zealots will ensure I rule a harmonious empire.”

  Ellonlef shook her head in disgust. “You speak of men as though they are mindless devices.”

  Varis stared at her, his empty gaze unreadable. “Men are tools to be used. Before I became more than a man, I myself was a tool of men and gods. I did not reject this notion, nor feel lessened by it. Rather, I embraced such service as a blessing. Admittedly, now that I stand in the place of gods, I cannot say I am displeased by the prospect of being the craftsman, instead of the utensil in the craftsman’s hands.”

  “You are as mad as Uzzret!”

  Varis squatted down and thrust his face against hers, forcing her to look away. “I am the picture of sanity,” he grated. “It’s you who are blind. You see, in this coming new age, we must each of us serve some purpose, great or small, and we must each of us be able to justify the drawing of each breath. If a man cannot prove his worth, if he cannot justify his existence in some way, then he must die to allow those who are useful to take his place.”

  “And who decides who is justified? Who decides who is useful, and what purpose they serve?”

  Varis sat back on his heels and grinned. “Who better than I? But don’t worry, Sister Ellonlef. I have decided how you will serve me.” He stroked a loving finger over her bruised cheek, trailed it down her neck, slid it over her breasts. He licked his lips. “I dare say, you are highly suited for what I have in mind.”

  Ellonlef spat in his face. “I will never serve you.”

  Varis smiled. “It seems I must force the issue.”

  Those words brought stark terror to her heart. In her mind she saw the changed folk of Krevar, and the demon-possessed men who had captured her in Salev. “Kill me or ravish me,” she pleaded, “but I beg you, do not fill me with the corrupted life of the Fallen!”

  Varis blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”

  “I know your filthy secret,” Ellonlef rasped, motioning toward the blank-eyed soldiers ringing them about. “They are not men, but dying flesh cloaking the spirits of demons—Mahk’lar.”

  Varis swung his head. His followers did not flinch or look away, only stared at him with sickening, mindless devotion. “No, that is not so.”

  Ellonlef frowned in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

  “The Fallen are freed,” Varis said, “but these are men that I brought back from the horrors of the Thousand Hells.”

  She could hardly believe him. While she had not known the entire truth until hearing the stories about El’hadar and the Black Keep, and later when fighting at the ruins of Salev, she would’ve thought he knew all along. “Have you never looked into their eyes after nightfall, and seen how they flash silver?”

  “I do not see as—” he cut off abruptly and shook his head in denial. “You are a liar.”

  “I destroyed one of those you sent after me, and it was no man,” Ellonlef insisted.

  “Still your tongue.”

  “Kill one of them, and see for yourself what you have created, Life Giver.”

  “Do not listen to her, Master,” Uzzret urged, limping closer to Varis. “She is a deceiver, unworthy to look upon you.”

  “I have use of her,” Varis said slowly.

  “There are others of her ilk, Master. Those who will be more pliable and willing.”

  “No.”

  “Master, please—”

  “Stand away from me,” Varis snarled.

  When Uzzret did not move quickly enough, Varis shoved him away and moved to stand before one of the soldiers. Without a word, Varis took the man’s sword and rammed the blade into his bowels.

  Smiling wanly, the soldier sank to his knees. Varis recoiled when a sooty plume oozed from the wound. Then, as if the corruption of death had been held back since Varis had resurrected the man, skin and rank meat began sloughing off the underlying bones. The corpse fell to one side and burst against the ground like an overripe melon. In moments, even those remains had deteriorated into a dark puddle.

  Varis staggered back, mouth hanging. Ellonlef saw emotions crawl over his face, from fear to revulsion to bewilderment. He believed his own lies, she thought. He thought he could raise the dead, and that their devotion was a sign of gratitude. She also realized that not all demons were able to immediately change the flesh they occupied.

  Varis spun and caught hold of another soldier’s chin. “Who commands you?” he rasped.

  “You, Life Giver.”

  Varis let go, nodding to himself. Then he went still. He glanced back at the soldier. “Is there any higher than me?”

  “Yes.”

  Varis’s jaw clenched. “Who?”

  “Peropis,” the soldier answered without hesitation. “The first daughter of the Three. We serve you at her command. For now, she has set you above us, in order for you to guide us to our destiny.”

  “What does that mean?” Varis screamed.

  The soldier smiled broadly, and said in his croaking voice, “What once died has been reawakened. It is the place of humankind to serve or die. The old order will become new in these ancient lands. Peropis, our queen, will reign again, as once she did. Soon, we all will serve her alone, as it was in the beginning.”

  “She lied to me,” Varis muttered, features working with shock. “All of it lies!”

  Ellonlef had never seen a man learn all at once that everything he believed was a deception.

  “She lied,” he said again. “All of her promises, from the beginning! Lies! Lies! Lies!”

  Ellonlef cowered back as Varis began to shiver with rage. Then he began to swell. Veins, like thick black worms, bulged under his pale skin. His eyes grew wider, rolling from side to side in their sockets. His fingers clenched and unclenched.

  Movement drew Ellonlef’s gaze. In the distance, Varis’s entire army was looking on him with unnerving, glassy stares. Below their empty expressions, she sensed a guarded contempt.

  Varis sensed it as well.

  Without warning, he threw his arms wide. As one, the army cried out and surged toward him. Unbelieving, Ellonlef saw something else, a faint radiance flowing like a silver river from all those thousands and into Varis. Flesh withered from the bones of that army, and their voices lifted in demonic howls. With every stride, the true nature of the creatures began to rip free of the bodies they had possessed.

  Varis’s bulging shape was now glowing, and through deep rents in his skin, silver light streaked out. He opened his mouth as if to scream, but instead of words, fire shot forth to engulf huge swaths of his newfound enemies, but still they came.

  Those Mahk’lar that escaped the deadly flames sped toward Varis, but before they could begin their attack, dusty roots sprang from the sand to swarm over them and burrow into their flesh. Varis scorched demons and roots together, leaving only ash behind. Untouched, the essences of the Mahk’lar coalesced into a seething black mass, then streaked away across the desert.

  Instead of abating, Varis’s fury grew. The force of his inferno created great whirlwinds of sand and flame that rose up
and up, coiling about each other until the sand became molten globs that rained back down upon the earth. Horses trumpeted, and Varis blasted them as well. To the last, the demonic souls within the horses puffed out and vanished, fleeing into an unsuspecting world. Uzzret was running into the distance, and there he died, a flaming candle in place of a man.

  Ellonlef got to her feet and ran. Keeping her balance over the uneven ground was difficult with her hands still bound, but to fall was to die.

  The tremendous blazing force of Varis’s being seemed to thrust her along in pursuit of her shadow, but at the same time a keening wind rushed in from the desert, gathering itself to Varis. Ellonlef bowed her head against the gale, fighting to maintain her pace. Small stones and uprooted brush rolled and bounced back the way she had come.

  Eyes squinted against the flying grit and Varis’s blinding radiance, Ellonlef made for the edge of the plateau. When she reached it she found not a single drop but a series of ledges, like a giant’s staircase.

  She leaped and fell ten feet to the first ledge. The jarring landing sent her into a tumbling roll off the edge to thud down on the next sandstone shelf.

  There was no time to go farther. The world was growing brighter, washing all colors to white, and the wind roared like a great waterfall.

  Ellonlef cast about, found a broken pile of stones, and ran for it. Panting from terror, she dropped to her belly in front of a small opening and wriggled under cover. Even here, with rock all around her, shafts of stunning radiance burned through every crack and crevice, burned brighter and brighter, and she buried her face in the crook of her arm, and waited to die.

  ~ ~ ~

  Ellonlef did not know how long she stayed that way. She guessed she must have fainted from fear or exhaustion, for when she opened her eyes and turned over, the world looked the same as it had before she had run from Varis. No blinding light. No wind.

  But it was not the same.

  A deathly still hung in the smoky air, as if all that lived had been swept from the face of the world. She turned around in the mouth of her little cave, but would not leave it. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  She cringed at the grating whisper of stealthy footsteps. It was Varis. And he was coming.

  Weary and frightened as she was, Ellonlef forced herself into a sitting position. She would not lie on her belly like a docile supplicant for this deranged tyrant. A little hunting found her a sharp-edged stone, and she used it to quickly saw through her wrist bindings. And then she waited, imagining herself burying that shard of stone into one of Varis’s goggling white eyes.

  But when he showed himself, she could only gasp and flinch back. No longer did he look like a walking corpse. His flesh shone as polished bronze, and his eyes shimmered like pearls. He had become an artist’s vision of a living deity. But there was no benevolence in him. Menace oozed from him and washed over her like thick, poisonous oil. Ellonlef thought to retreat, but there was nowhere to flee.

  He peered at her for what felt like an eternity. “I must thank you, Sister, for revealing to me the full extent of Peropis’s treachery.” His voice was resonant, captivating, and Ellonlef had to struggle against its allure. “In return for your unwitting gift, I give you your freedom.”

  “Thank you,” she said, hating herself for saying it, but unable to restrain her gratitude.

  He nodded. “I must ask you to go back to Kian Valara, and warn him that if I ever see either of you again, I will make your suffering so great that all the peoples of the world will sing your names in lament for a thousand ages.”

  “Is it graciousness that compels you,” Ellonlef asked, “or do you fear that Kian will destroy you?”

  Varis laughed. “I am truly a god now, perfect in all my ways. He is but a man, Sister, much as you are merely a woman. With a god’s eyes I see you as you truly are—dull and filthy beasts. Why should a god fear such low creatures, or stoop to killing them out of spite?”

  “Kian will not turn aside,” Ellonlef said, not sure if she meant it as a warning, or threat.

  “Left to himself, he would try to kill me, if only for annihilating his pathetic band of mercenaries. But if you have any wish to see him live, you will convince him to abandon such foolishness. Make him heed my warning, Sister.”

  “And if he refuses to listen?”

  A malicious sheen swirled through his pearlescent eyes. “Tell him that if he obeys, I will spare his homelands until he has been long in the grave. That holds for you and the Isle of Rida. Take my offer, and the two of you can live out the remainder of your lives in peace. Refuse, and I will force you both to watch the undoing of all that you hold dear.” With that, he tossed a plump waterskin at her feet and departed.

  An hour passed before Ellonlef dared to scoot to the edge of her shelter and look out. Varis was gone, but his words repeated in her mind. She tried to deny her complete loss of hope, but as she knew she must tell Kian of Varis’s vow, she also knew Kian would not let the prince’s threat go untested. In facing the challenge, he would surely die.

  ~ ~ ~

  A hitch in his horse’s stride made Kian cringe. He hoped it was a stumble, but over the next several miles the animal’s gait grew steadily worse, forcing him to halt after cresting a broad plateau. Under a blood-red sky that spit fine ash, the road stretched to the Ulkion Mountains.

  The scene looked as if it should be hot, like a Madi’yin’s vision of the Thousand Hells. Instead the air had grown ever colder for several days now. Kian dismissed the weather, and all else that had befallen the world. At the moment, only finding Ellonlef mattered.

  Hazad and Azuri reined in, each man looking as weary as he felt. Kian guessed it was even worse than fatigue. For the first time in memory, Azuri had abandoned his tireless quest for cleanliness. The last of their spare horses, taken from the Bashye that had attacked Ellonlef, were filthy and edging toward scrawny, but the sturdy desert mounts were doing better than their masters.

  “I know what my eyes tell me,” Hazad said, glancing at the wide swath of trampled ground and dead brush on either side of the road, “but such an army couldn’t have marched so fast from Krevar. Ba’Sel must’ve been mistaken.”

  “He made no mistake,” Kian muttered, eyeing something dark and wet on the ground nearby. “In all the world, there are no better trackers than the Asra a’Shah. If Ba’Sel said this is evidence of Varis’s army, then I believe him.”

  Though futile, he wished Ba’Sel and the other Geldainians had remained with them. In uncertain times, having a company of deadly warriors was desirable. Right now he envied the Geldainians, for they were going home.

  Kian dismounted and struck off in the direction of the darkish lump on the ground. Hazad and Azuri joined him. As he came closer, the reek of corruption reached out and clutched his throat. It was too cold for flies, but Kian knew what he would find before he stopped.

  Azuri used a stick to unfold a black-stained bit of cloth, revealing the silver fist of House Racote. “Do you still doubt that we follow Varis?”

  Hazad gulped a breath. “Suppose not.”

  Azuri made to toss the stick, but it never left his hand. “What’s that?”

  Kian glanced around and saw a large burned spot just off the road. He led his friends in that direction. When they got close, their feet crunched over a thin layer of glass. They had seen the same around craters left behind by Ellonlef’s Tears of Pa’amadin.

  “He slaughtered them all,” came a woman’s voice.

  The trio spun, brandishing their swords.

  Sheltering in the scant shade of a leafless bush, a disheveled and tattered Ellonlef gazed at them with bleary eyes.

  Kian rushed to her. “Are you hurt?” he asked, helping her to her feet.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head.

  Just to be sure, he turned her this way and that to get a better look. She was tired and filthy, her robes tattered and far from white, but other than a fading bruise on her cheek, she appeared hale. “What happe
ned?”

  She laughed grimly. “Varis has offered you a vow of peace.”

  Kian’s eyebrows shot up. “His conditions?”

  “If you flee, he promised not to conquer your homelands until you are dead and gone. If you do not go, he will kill you, but only after he forces you to watch the annihilation of Izutar. The same holds for me.”

  Kian snorted. “Doesn’t sound like my kind of bargain. I believe I’ll pass.”

  “I think that’s what he hoped you’d say.”

  “Then why offer peace at all?”

  “To taunt you,” Ellonlef said. “Varis has grown powerful … unbelievably powerful. I think he wants you to come for him, so that he can prove who is stronger.”

  “We’re only a few days from Ammathor,” he said. “No point in keeping the prince waiting.”

  “Do not seek him out,” Ellonlef pleaded, grasping his arms.

  “As I recall,” Kian said, more forcefully than he intended, “you set me to stopping Varis in the first place. What happened to saving Aradan in order to save Izutar, and all the world?”

  Ellonlef would not look him in the eye. “You have a chance to live out your life in peace. You should take it.”

  A hard grin played over Kian’s lips. “You believe he can beat me?”

  “He is more than a man,” she said evenly. “He is a god, or as close to one as anyone has ever seen. He will not simply beat you, he will destroy you, just as easily as he destroyed an army of ten thousand Mahk’lar.”

  “Thank you for your confidence, Sister, but if he could have destroyed me, he would’ve done so already.”

  Ellonlef cursed bitterly and stalked away. Kian frowned after her.

  “I’ll stand with you,” Hazad promised.

  “As will I,” Azuri added, if with somewhat less enthusiasm. He had always been the wisest of them.

  Chapter 22

  Varis scrutinized his reflection in the watering trough. He had created this new face with but a thought. The blanched stare was gone, replaced by the eyes of his birth, which once again saw the world in all its natural splendor. His flesh had filled out and darkened to his natural coloring, if with something more, a faint but enticing glow.