There was frost in the air.
The sun stood low, the golden light felt warm on his teint skin and yet the wind carried a frigid sting.
He stood at the marble balcony overseeing the once lavish gardens, now grey and dead, all the years of care and joy he had put into them, wilted to dirt.
The exotic flowers all froze to death and soon so will they.
The ivory Erlen host was approaching mercilessly, intent on putting them all to the sword, killing the very land itself.
The satirian roses survived the longest but they wilted two nights ago.
His fingernails dug deep into the palms of his hand but there was no pain.
He took a deep breath.
He had to do something, anything, before there was nothing left worth saving..
64 years Saduul had served his people as the warmaster of the Kidai.
64 long years of bloodshed over petty border disputes, over vanity and greed.
He had seen his fill of blood, shed lakes worth of it.
And for the first time of his long life he was at a loss of what to do.
With an urgent step he made his way to the lavish royal quarters, shoving past the mute servants which seemed to barely notice him.
The braziers weren’t lit and the hallways laid silent before him.
Gently he pushed open the heavy gold embroided satin curtains, entering the queen-hierophants chambers.
“Mother,” he said gently.
The queen sat slouched in a chair, staring absentmindedly into the coals
and the despair was like a miasma in the air.
Her hair was fatty and in disarray clumped into strings “Atrias??” a weak hopeful voice cawed back.
“No mother it is I, Saduul. Atrias… he … nevermind.” He grit his teeth to keep his composure. “The western shores have fallen. The messengers said we need to form a stand at secre”... a second of hesitation. The words laid heavy on the tongue “you must invoke the goddess. We need her blessing. I don't think our soldiers stand a chance alone. They speak of pale devils freezing the very blood in your veins. And besides, the men are terrified.
They need her guidance.”
There was a long pause before she looked at him.
Her eyes were grey and veiled by the curse of the years. “She will not answer you.
She refuses to even answer me.”
And it was true, he knew.
The temples lay silent and the offerings had been rotting on their trays.
She held her hands to stop the shaking,
“Lady Sileanna has abandoned us Saduul.”
She merely stated the obvious and yet, the words stung more than a hundred blades.
The goddess hadn’t answered any prayers ever since the war began.
It had only been a few years but the people were devastated.No more games, no more funerals in the proper way, no night of the spirits.
The world stood head for them.
He turned and left, he didn’t want her to see him like this.
“This isn't over mother. I will end this madness. I swear it.”
He had consulted his scholars and priests, any learned men and women he could find.
He knew he asked the impossible of them but there had to be a weapon, a power, any hope for them at all.
He strutted through the streets of the Kidathi in his light robes, pondering the empty roads as if the cracked stone held the answer he so desperately sought.
The palm trees had withered and the sky was grey, the air was thick with rain.
A storm was brewing in the far western shores.
Lost in thoughts he made his way to the grand library, walking in the middle of the promenade.
Barely anyone crossed his path and those that did hurried into their homes, unnerved by the unnaturally cold wind.
They were afraid.
Rightfully so, he thought to himself.
The days went by and grew colder and colder but there was no solution in sight.
He had given royal decree across the realms and promised them the riches of centuries of prosperity though none dared heed his summons.
He was sitting at night sleepless in his bedchambers in his silken gown pondering the holy night sky.
Were they truly abandoned by the lady of the night?
Despite not being well learned in the sacred astronomy he could feel ill portents just his personal servant entered the room.
Holding a candle he peered into the dark “Someone demands an audience, lord Warmaster. You instructed me to inform you posthaste.”,
“yes Kadim, you did well. Sleep has forsaken me and I shall meet this stranger immediately.
Ready the atrium and bring the finest wine for our guest.”
The young man turned with a nod of respect “Yes my Warmaster” and left to do saduuls bidding.
He was a fine young man, he thought.
Kadim had served him well over the years, on the battlefield and off it.
If they survived this he hoped to see him grow into the title of Warmaster, following his footsteps.
There was no worthier man of the title.
He hoisted his large body from the soft feather bed and threw on a dark silken gown.
The stranger was sitting at the large table carved from sandstone.
The wine had remained untouched by the cringing stranger.
Kadim stood next to him in a light leather gambeson, his sword hand resting on his khopesh.
“You sought out the Warmaster of Kidai at such a late hour.
What is it you have so urgently to tell me that it cannot wait the coming of the dawn” he slowly prowled along the table, leaning on one strong hand in front of the strange man in his raggedy coat.
There was something off about this one.
Something that could have been mistaken for a laugh came from underneath the hood “It has come to my master's attention that your majesty is in need of aid. He believes he might provide you with what you… desire.”
“Interesting. But you have not told me your name or the name of your master.
I can tell you're not from these lands but it is custom you introduce yourself to the host of the house here. Please.”
“They once called me teborias and i hail from way up north” the man cawed as he took off his hood, revealing the wild looking face of a old man.
There were strange runes burned all over into the sickly pale flesh of this poor and slightly insane-looking wretch.
“But that no longer matters.
Perhaps it never has. I am apprentice now to the one you call kazerak and i come from the pitch black pits your kind cast him in so many years ago.
Luckily for you, he is not a vengeful man.
He charged me to bring you to him.”
The man grinned a yellow smile.
Then the wretch stood up, revealing a limb not of flesh but of polished black stone whirring with a strange pitch and made his way towards the exit.
Saduul went after him “Wait” he said,
“how can I trust you Teborias of the north?”, the wretch turned around.
“you can't.” “but you also don't have a choice”
They rode for two days northwards along the Kali River on feathered bullra, a fine steed he was gifted by the leyth.
The wretch guided their ways towards a rocky plateau and in between the boulders.
If you didn't know it was there you would have never found it.
A huge carved sandstone portal covered in strange symbols, portraying the face of some anguished deity.
The old man lift his prosthetic arm and drew green runes into the air and saduul could feel the witchcraft bristling in the dry desert air as the door slowly wound open and revealed a dark path into the bowels of the earth.
Toberias entered without hesitation, gesturing impatiently to follow him.
“I didn’t know you were a sorcerer” saduul tried to break the silence as he stepped into the thick dusty air.
“That is because i am not.” The man answered. “A scholar and disciple perhaps but don’t confuse us with errand warlocks” he snickered “lord kazerak is so much more”.
The darkness felt almost alive, ravenous as the maw closed behind him, snuffing the tender light of the moon and the sacred stars.
This realm was beyond Sileanna's influence, he thought.
Toberias conjured a pale golden flame in the palm of his hand, lighting the way deeper down.
At the whims of strange gods.
His hand reflexively wandered to the hilt of his khopesh.
The deeper they walked the more oppressive the feeling became.
An overwhelming presence in the dark.
It was impossible to keep track of time.
He didn’t notice the change but at some point the rock wall had given way to a polished obsidian surface broken by veiny streaks of gold like streaks of lightning breaking a stormy sky.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
And suddenly Toberias stopped.
“We have arrived, Warmaster.” he declared.
And indeed they had.
Or at least they had reached a dead end, a solid wall.
It didn’t surprise him that toberias began speaking a strange invocation and golden runes flared to life and the wall slid open without a sound revealing a large natural cave ahead.
This had to have been one of the legendary cities of the deep-folk.
The merchants spoke of them and their wondrous trinkets and machines.
Their cities of silver and gardens of rubies, wonderful stairs that spiraled down into the pits of the earth and grand halls decorated by the finest arts a smith could conjure.
But this looked nothing alike.
There were lodgings carved into the walls and from mounds in the ground like the hive of ants, a sprawling and primitive valley where shrouded figures went along with their purpose.
High above, he could barely believe it, hung a moon at the invisible ceiling of the massive cave bathing it in cold apathetic light that was absorbed by the milky crystals that weakly gleamed protruding from the wall.
And beneath the mock moon, wrought from black stone, stood a terrible ziggurat.
Toberias led him through the winding streets. “Be honored to walk the streets of Uth-takal outsider, honored as I once was so many years ago.”
Tall spindly figures clothed in black robes adorned by golden thread passed their ways, their faces hidden behind gruesome silvery death masks.
They spoke to his guide in tongues unfit for man but paid him no mind.
Undoubtedly they were the deep-kin.
His language had a word for them. Tuthuli. The cursed ones. The exiled.
The absence of natural sound unnerved him.
No wind, no birds, no rivers.
Just the trotting of footsteps and the whirring of strange mechanisms and noises from some forge.
As they approached the temple towering above them saduul asked him “What in the stars ist his temple dedicated to?”
Toberias stopped in his tracks.
He seemed to ponder the question for a second and then answered
“There are no gods in this place. Come and you will see.”
Saduul did not know what hell awaited him below ground and he did not know what yet laid in store.
He followed Toberias through the titanic porta of the temple which was guarded by immense black statues of grizzly skeletal warriors wrought from the same self-black stone.
The inside was lit by pale blue torches whose light let Toberias seem even more cadaverous than he had before drawing long shadows over his crazed eyes.
-
He led him through a labyrinthian complex of wide corridors and tall chambers until they reached a staircase leading into the bowls of the massive structure.
The dark presence here was tangible,
the air could be cut with a knife.
Fear swelled in saduuls chest.
Would he die here?
So far from home that the stars could not see him.
They reached a large chamber, a shrine of sorts bathed in pale golden light.
Atop a staircase on an ornate dais, a massive statue flying above the ground.
It was cast from the same black stone and streaks of gold ran through it like veins, its massive form adorned with cracked obsidian wings like some unholy deity.
Its arms were outstretched in a welcoming gesture and a stone halo
coronated its faceless visage, golden light shining brightly from it.
Tobias fell to his knees in reverence.
“My lord, I have brought the man as you commanded”
Like nightmare made manifest the statue began to descend the stairs as if it weighed but a feather.
A terrible voice echoed from the walls of his mind, from everywhere at once “Manling” it thundered “You came to seek from me the might to deliver your people from the Erlen devils- That I cannot grant you. But i can give you the tools to take it for
yourself.”
He had not know when it happend but he found himself on his knees and bowed his head to the floor.
The thing led him deeper down into a temple or a smith or both by the looks of it.
Saduul had never felt so frail in his life.
Every move the thing made seemed of importance, every action deliberate and magnificent.
His words seemed inadequate and would not dare to leave the throat, the silence of the halls too important to disturb, the only noise the muted trotting of their feet and the rushing of blood in his ears.
Toberias left to retrieve two things:
A beautiful long knife made from ivory and an immaculate red gemstone the color of saturnalia wine or fresh blood seeping in the sands.
The thing went to the forges that ignited with golden flames as by silent decree but he could feel no heat nor did smoke rise from the obsidian basin.
Within the fires there was cast a mold and the thing took the knife in its ebbon hand and cut its own wrist wherefrom a silver ichor bled into the mold.
Saduul did not know how long he stood there awestruck while the thing forged its blood into a crown.
The mold was lifted from the flames by witchcraft and cast asunder to reveal a silver band.
The thing then outreached its hand and worked its magic on it, lines forming and flowing into beautiful mosaics and runes from a time when the gods held no sway over man's destiny.
With a wave of its hand, the ruby worked itself into a socket at the front, nestled within the clutches of miniature figures with unparalleled detail.
There was no smith in the realms that could work such a marvel.
When it was done it handed the crown to Saduul.
“This will deliver man from the temper of the false gods. The price I ask of you is only that you use it.”
Saduul took the crown and thereby sealed the deal.
The voice echoed one last time and he would never forget the words it said:
“There was a time our ancestors shared the same blood. Go now, god slayer.”
When he returned to kidathi the city was covered in snow. Snow as far as he could see and yet he did not feel the cold.
He did not sleep or eat or rest at all.
He had to fulfill his charge as was written in the stars long before his birth.
There was still no fire lit when he entered the queen-hierophants chambers, nor did she raise any protest when he took the key to the grand necropolis.
Kadim had fallen at secre, abandoned by the gods and his soul devoured by the Erlen, the city's people cast in chains.
Their souls might be forefeir but he intended to keep his so Saduul somberly donned his armor and grabbed his spear.
Two stairs at a time he climbed the staircase to the necropolis, strut through the silvery gates up and along the winding bridges and paths through the many mausolea of long-forgotten dynasties not thinking about the cataclysmic proportion of the deed that must be done.
He would not have them be desecrated by a false god any longer.
His muscles bulged and sweat dripped on the frozen floor as he wrought the gigantic silver door open.
As a child he often marveled at the story of his people portrayed on it, dumbfounded at the thought of what lay behind it.
The incense was cold and the braziers were frozen.
There she was.
Monumental and regal clad in the finest silks the kidai had to offer, golden jewellery the size of people wrapped around gigantic arms.
“SILEANNA” Saduul screamed.
“OUR PRAYERS HAVE FALLEN ON DEAF EARS” Heavy breaths billowed fog into the cold air “YOUR LANDS LAY IN RUIN AND YOUR TEMPLES ARE SILENT. WHAT ANSWER YOU”
The giant woman did not regard him but a voice like lyres spoke while she cowered over something he could not see “Have you come to pray? Have you come to beg? For hundreds of years I let your fields grow, let the rain fall and your cities prosper.
I gave you life, I gave you purpose and you needed not fear death.
Tell me human, what more would you have of me?”
“We gave you everything. Everything we had. And in our time of need you let our souls be butchered. If-” he shook with rage and fear. He knew what must be done. With wavering hands he donned the circlet “IF YOU WON’T SAVE OUR PEOPLE I WILL”- the pain of the blade was more than he anticipated.
With all his might he fought every reflex in his body and pierced his chest with his spear, the weapon meant to protect the realm.
The crown would keep him alive, well long enough at least they said.
He could feel its sick power flashing through his veins instead of the blood that was rapidly pooling at his feet.
Visions of the temple raced through his head as he drew the symbols into the air like he was taught.
The elder words, he knew their meaning not but they rolled from his lips regardless.
The spell was cast and Sileanna began to scream.
“YOU’RE IN LEAGUE WITH THIS VERMIN THIS VILE KA-”
the words turned to screeches as chains of silver pierced their chests.
And so, a new god rose from the ashes of the past.
His flesh did not withstand the influx of cosmic power.
The flames consumed it all, flesh, hair, blood, and at last- his humanity.
The fledgling god's feet ascended the stairs to Sileannas corpse and he cast her down, revealing what she so tenderly protected: the body of the fallen demos.
If he could have felt pity he would have felt it now.
But nothing stirred in his cold chest now bereft of love or joy.
He knew not of Kazerak's betrayal and the foul runes wrought upon his silvery crown.
He knew not what horror his new form would unleash upon the lands.
He knew only his charge.
And as he stood on Sileannas throne overseeing Kidathi and the lands beyond he knew it well.
The first to rise was demos.
And indeed Kidathi never fell to the Erlen.
However, the newly coronated god-king's reign was not one of prosperity for his people.
The dead of the necropolis were called from Sileanna's realm and took up arms, fighting horror with horror.
Necromantic cults proliferated throughout the realm and tainted the lands beyond repair and once the kidai too were laid low during the fall of the gods all that was left were ruins and cursed sand.
