I have my next mission, and I have an uncertain timeline ahead of me. When the Sons of Perdition arrive, that will be the moment where my focus will need to shift from establishing alliances and trade to going on the hunt. As I review Argentum’s warnings in my head, I realize that my next quarry may be last, as those I hunt may overpower me and as such I must prepare for failure. If I am killed before establishing trade with the Guilds of Northern Tackenae in my fight with The Sons of Perdition the strategy of creating bastions of peace will only reach the peoples of Upendo and Visala and I know their peoples combined will not be sufficient to stop Aurhea’s apocalypse and in turn those I cherish will all die. Now that I have what I need from the Glirdon I can’t sit idle. Regardless of what Upendo or the glirdon try to say or do to postpone me, I need to make progress toward Tackenae today. The sands of my hourglass now fall more swiftly than they have before.
I walk up to the embassy house with Cran floating beside me, and I hear Choyera speaking from behind the door, “I think I know where you are coming from, as I too love a man that can make me feel safe. If it wasn’t for the laws and vast gap in station between me and Zoteteza I’d have followed my heart years ago. Well, maybe I should have all things considered. If I had known that so many plotted against me, and that so many false accusations were to be flung my way, having one be true would have changed nothing for me as I’d still be right here on a pilgrimage of penance. Some regrets are funny like that. You can try to be the perfect princess and woman your whole life, and the political schemes of others can rip you down and make you a disgraced virgin harlot. You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, so maybe don’t be me and regret not acting upon your feelings before it’s too late.”
I open the door expecting to see Choyera speaking to a teratolion servant, but the only two people in the welcoming and living room of the embassy house sitting at a table laden with food and drink in front of a roaring fire are Choyera and Khub. Choyera sits dignified at the table which is a sharp contrast to Khub who is face down on the table with his hands clasping weakly at a mug of beer. I look at Choyera and then to Khub who is either in the process of passing out or enduring a horrible hangover.
“Who were you talking too?” I ask looking around this room of the embassy house in an attempt to see if a teratolion servant had coincidentally left down one of the several tunnels that jut off of this entry room of the embassy house the instant I entered.
Khub shakily jerks his hand twice and Choyera seeing this gesture laughs to herself and says to me, “just myself.”
“Well, if you say so,” I say doubting Choyera’s answer, but before curiosity can obligate my tongue to ask further questions, my stomach heaves. A horrid odor like a viscous liquid travels up my nose into my lungs, and I heave to try to get the smell out of myself. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and I turn around to see a gloomy Chiphuzitso raising his chained arms to me in a begging gesture.
“I swear upon my faith in my god and my prophet, that I won’t attempt to kill you or the demons that surround me, if you just free me long enough to be clean,” begs the downtrodden stinking priest, “please.”
“Go bathe! clean yourself,” I gasp and cough. The scars on my arms open and blood infused with my essence travels from me to the chains on Chip’s arms. The blood integrates into the chains, and then the chains break into an orange dust freeing Chip from his binds.
“Bath that way,” I choke out as I hold my nose, but Chip’s rank smell is so pungent that it doesn’t matter that my nose is closed, because I can almost taste the offal aroma.
“So, your nose triumphed over wisdom?” says Prorem ruffling my hair as he enters the embassy house from behind me and sits next to a groaning Khub, who must feel like he’s dying now that his senses have been berated by not just his hangover but the assault of the priest’s deadly bouquet that still hangs ever present in the air even though Chip immediately departed for the baths when I had freed him.
“It’s good to see that most of you are here,” I say looking at my obligate band of traveling companions, “prepare yourselves, as we will be leaving for Tackenae, if not today than tomorrow morning.”
“Why the sudden rush, brother?” asks Upendo as he enters into the living room from one of the many tunnels that jut out of it.
As honesty lead to Upendo’s inspiration that could lead to the shield that will withstand Aurhea, I forgo coming up with a story and choose to bluntly tell Upendo what I know, “Argentum has informed me that Othenel has arranged an alliance with the Leathfola Barons to help them crush the rebellion of the revolutionaries and then help the Leathfola conquer the rest of Tackenae. My time is limited to establish trade, as the means by which the Leathfola and Othen plan on destroying the revolution is to employ a weapon I stand the best chance of fighting against.”
“Well, then destroy the weapon and establish trade another day,” says Upendo cocking his head sideways in a confused and amused expression, “I don’t see why you must rush to establish trade as if there won’t be tomorrows filled with opportunity.”
“The weapon is like me,” I say looking away from Upendo as the words I just said impact me in a strange way, “Argentum told me that The Sons of Perdition are as strong, and maybe even stronger than I am as they like I, are celandil human mixbloods. If I can destroy Shoron Gaol, imagine what a group of me could do. If I fail to defeat The Sons of Perdition, having an established alliance with the trade guilds might give you, Visala, and the Tack a chance to face hopefully the Sons of Perdition in a weakened state which will be my final gift in failure to you.”
“There are others like you?” asks Upendo in a tone of voice that hurts me, as the disbelief doesn’t cloud the quivering and stuttering of fear in his words.
“Yes, there are others,” I say clasping my left arm with my right hand feeling guilty by association that somehow more of me exists to plague this world, “though, unlike me they are unable to create more of themselves, as Argentum told me that they are so deformed from Aurhea’s experiments that they are infertile. If we kill one of the Son’s of Perdition, another won’t take his place, which is why if I fail to destroy them then I hope I’ll take down enough to make it possible for you to finish the job.”
Upendo then asks, “how much time do we have.”
“I don’t know,” I respond shaking my head, “I wish I knew, but because I don’t know, I have to act swiftly to fulfill as much of your aspirations as possible. I don’t really know how to feel about you at this time, but I believe in your dream. I believe that it may be my only way to save those I hold precious above all. I mean preserve all the peoples upon this world like yours and Visala’s peoples. However, I might not live long enough to see the fruition of your dreams.”
“Is there anyway I could help you?” asks Upendo raising a hand to me.
I push Upendo’s hand down and do not take it in mine and say, “unless you are prepared to throw away hundreds of lives to destroy a single monster, knowing you’ll have to make this trade several times to slaughter the pack of resurrected beasts that are coming for us then I’d say that it is better for this fight to be mine and mine alone. I’ll do what I can to mitigate future casualties in the case I do fail, so that the hundreds you’ll trade will not number in the thousands.”
“Then I am prepared to make that sacrifice for you, my brother! If we yet have time to prepare, then let us prepare,” Upendo claps his hands and summons a servant who he first speaks to in the teratolion tongue and then to me in the Othen dialect, “I’m sending word to my generals to prepare for war against these Sons of Perdition. You will not fight for us alone. The teratolion of the western mountain hall stand with you and will fight at your side.”
“Don’t throw away your lives, unless it is necessary. Let me shoulder this weight! The Sons of Perdition are of my blood, so let me spill it,” I say grimacing whilst turning around to chase down the servant carrying Upendo’s message, only to have Upendo clasp my arm in his large and powerful hand.
“Do you really think I’ll just send my men in a charge to their deaths! No! We have time, and thus we can prepare a stratagem,” says Upendo firmly squeezing my arm to painfully halt my chase of the teratolion servant, “Gehenna showed the world that a full-blooded god can be killed with little sacrifice. If a man can challenge a god then we too can challenge the Sons of Perdition.”
I grimace hearing Gehenna used as a rallying example of a god slayer and before I can speak Upendo asks me directly, “what can kill a god? What are your weaknesses?”
“We aren’t gods,” I say feeling like this is just knowledge that I’m repeating, “Our powers aren’t unlimited and if our arsenal of magic is exhausted we become basically human. This is why during the human-celandil or god war of the past the stratagem apparently was to trade hundreds of lives for a single celandil life. Life was used as a currency to expend the reserves of magic of the gods to wear them down until they were mortal enough to be killed.”
“That’s not how Gehenna killed your father,” says Upendo as if interpreting my explanation as a rebuttal to convince Upendo to call off his troops and allow me to fight the Sons of Perdition alone, “At most only two men died in the conflict that ended in your father’s death, tell me what happened. I know that this may be painful, but this knowledge will be pivotal if we are to face these demi-gods and help prepare for when we must face Aurhea’s new gods.”
“I faced my father,” I say tugging my arm to try and free my arm from Upendo’s tight grasp.
“You didn’t kill him, so what happened,” says Upendo letting go of me.
I don’t make a break for the servant and stand helpless as memories consume me and I say, “Gehenna used a spy to feed him information and through that spy he knew that if he harmed the woman that Turas loved, that he’d evoke the ire of a family man and unleash the binds that held the celandil dormant. Gehenna… he… captured and violated my mother which freed the Berserker… Gehenna knowing my father’s weakness also knew of my weakness, he knew that I was trying to save as many of my mother’s family as I could even though I was putting them in danger by saving Uzuri, so he knew that my heart would have me give chase to my father to either soothe him to prevent needless loss of life of those that my mother called family, or be killed by him. I believe that because Gehenna knew that I trained with my father that Gehenna also thought that I’d be able to put up a good fight and weaken him so that Gehenna could finish Turas off. The reality was that my father was far more powerful than I, and if somehow, I didn’t reach his heart and mind as his son…”
“You were able to soothe Turas’s fury, and what then?” asks Upendo placing his hand upon my back to try and comfort me, even though he is the origination of this traumatic interrogation.
“As Turas’s son I was able to get Turas to come back to his senses and not succumb to his uncontrollable rage. We shared a tender moment as father and son as we were regrouping to save my mother, and when our guards were down a spear pierced the back of my father and nearly ran me through as well,” I say clenching my chest where the spear that ran my father through nearly punctured me as well. I close my eyes to try to prevent myself from seeing what my mind was displaying to me, “When the spear pierced my father’s back, my training kicked in and I went on the defensive and I survived Gehenna’s sneak attack where my father’s heart was torn from his chest.”
“If a celandil is taken by surprise…” says Upendo taking in the fatal lessons of my story to know his enemy.
“We are mortal!” I say louder than I mean to, “if we are taken by surprise we can be killed. If you employ this strategy you only have one shot, so make sure you rip my heart out, or sever my head as if you don’t kill me in a single blow there’ll be hell to pay. I can be overpowered as well, as the amount of essence I have in my body, my strength, defenses, and how fast I can move and heal myself all have limits. A celandil may be able to train and surpass their past selves but there will always be a boulder I can’t lift.”
“I’m not trying to kill you; I’m trying to help you,” says Upendo dropping his hand from my back.
I clench my teeth and say, “you may one day have to help yourselves by killing me, as after we kill the demi-gods, and new gods, the remnant of the old gods will surely be next. When that day comes, please stab me through my chest and not my back. I want to embrace my end and not die like my father did.”
“Why would I even consider killing my brother and the savior of my granddaughter,” whispers Upendo as he wraps his arms around me in an embrace, “why would the glirdon turn their back on their hero.”
“Why didn’t you trust me then?” I say with tears falling from my eyes as my teeth chatter with my growing anger, “you say you won’t ever consider killing me, but you don’t even trust me enough to tell me your plans. Because you didn’t trust me, I’ve become intimately aware of my nature as your useful monster. And now you are asking me how to kill me and my kind. So, tell me how your claim makes any sense?”
Using some of my celandilic strength I pry Upendo’s arms off of me and then force all the scars upon my arms, back and face to open and fill with blood, “this is what you want, not me, but this. I’m the object of fear that supposedly creates unity. You may claim me as a member of your family, your people, this federation. But all I am is your monster.”
“I did what I did because I trust you more than you know,” says Upendo with a long sigh as he rubs his face with one of his massive, gnarled, yet manicured hands.
I scoff at Upendo and begin to walk away from him and say, “you trust the chains that bind me more than me. With those chains you dangle me like a puppet and used me to cut many strings. You trust me like a soldier trusts his sword, but swords aren’t loyal because they choose to be.”
“I’m sorry,” whispers Upendo bowing his head.
“Sorry doesn’t bring people back from the dead,” I say through gritted teeth as my face contorts as the cool winds of my sadness and the fiery gales of my anger swirl into a tornado within, “sorry, doesn’t change the past. Sorry, doesn’t change the future. Sorry, doesn’t save the five I cherish. Sorry, doesn’t stop my mind from corrupting the last motivations I have to live, and to kill. Sorry doesn’t change that what I’ve used to justify monstrous actions makes me similar to the man that killed my parents. Sorry, doesn’t change anything.”
I hear Upendo stutter and it sounds like he is about to say something, but instead of Upendo, Prorem speaks up instead, “Your majesty let him speak, it isn’t often that man can hear the cries of a sword. Skath, please continue, speak your soul.”
“Speak what exactly?” I ask attempting to retreat again, but instead of Upendo preventing my escape this time it is Prorem who reaches out and grabs my shoulder, but unlike Upendo his grip is gentle.
“If I were to eat a moco nut my throat swells up and I can’t breath,” says Prorem with a chuckle, “then again just stabbing me could do the job.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask pulling away from Prorem, and he lets me escape his grip.
Prorem smiles tilting his head and says, “We are monsters, and I am telling you how to kill me. Though, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t telling you the full truth. If you tell me Bron never loved me, that I should have died in his place, that Bron was a fool for loving me, then your words will paralyze me, and you can have your way with me.”
“How are you a monster?” I say glaring at Prorem finding his odd appeal only adding to the anger I already feel.
“I’m a deserter of Othenel,” says Prorem his smile having been replaced by a serious expression ever since he mentioned the name of Bron, “I’m a heretic who after his Amolacrimae rejected Aurhea’s heaven, as I had my own here upon this world. When I awoke from the dreamy baptism of my Amolacrimae, heaven didn’t end, it continued as I found heaven again in the arms of Bron. Bron was a Leathfola baron of a minor house and was elected to be ambassador for the Barons to speak with Othenel for a potential alliance to crush the revolutionaries. However, the Matriarchs and Patriarchs saw Bron as a threat, because he was able to break me of my devotion to Aurhea and convince me that outsiders were worthy of love. Talks of assistance were replaced with plots of assassination, and Bron learning that soon we would both die, sacrificed himself for me. He disguised me as one of his retinue, snuck me out of Othenel, and used himself as a distraction to secure my passage to freedom. I’m a demon who walks this world living on the borrowed time of a lover I’ll never see in heaven, as his heaven is different from the one that rejects me and that I spurned, and his hell is one different from the one that’ll claim me. Now I live for him, because my life was bought with his.”
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My mind ablaze with emotion can’t figure out why Prorem told me this story and though I attempt to speak, I don’t have words. Prorem on the other hand has words and continues to speak, “I knew that the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of Othenel desired both Bron and I dead, and instead of dying with the man I loved, I abandoned him to the assassin’s dagger. I’m a monster for what I stole from him, that gave me and me alone more time upon this world. That is why I am a monster, but you lad, I’m not so sure. Now that I told you about my monstrousness, what makes you a monster?”
“There are so many that shouldn’t be dead, because I wasn’t what I was supposed to be,” I relent to Prorem feeling like if I say what he wants he’ll finally just let me escape and be free of him and Upendo, “there are so many that shouldn’t be dead, because I didn’t act when I should have. There are so many that shouldn’t be dead, because I wasn’t strong enough and in my limits, I chose finality instead of pigheaded schemes and vice versa. My humanity weeps as I clutch onto the celandil for strength, but neither the human or celandil is enough to bear the weight of what I’ve done and for what has been placed upon me.”
“You yourself said you aren’t a god,” says Prorem stepping in front of me and then he places both his hands upon my shoulders, “stop treating yourself like one. You are a lad yet, and your steps into manhood have been plagued with decisions no lad should have to make. You said you weren’t enough, but you have people surrounding you now that may be able to make you enough.”
“I hurt everyone I let in. My parents are dead because I didn’t kill their murderer when I should have. My best friend was killed in my stead and now his widow will raise his child alone because of me. Because I wasn’t there for a girl that I should have been a better friend to, she is also dead because of me. Even the woman I loved and love wept tears of immense sorrow because I was convinced that my death was necessary for her to rise to her full potential and maybe prevent the deaths of thousands. Because I wasn’t able to reach the grieving princess from beyond my supposed grave, half of the people my mother wanted me to protect are now dead because I didn’t do enough for them. Because I wasn’t strong enough to come up with a pigheaded scheme I killed hundreds more, because I convinced myself it was necessary to save the small remnant of those I love which I know harms the living and my memories of the dead I hold dear,” I say tears falling from my eyes intermingles with the blood of the scars on my face creating streaks of clarity and scarlet. I feel boxed in by both Prorem and Upendo as they stand in front and behind me as a human, but a part of me wants to let loose the celandil to escape, “Why should I let more people in, when it’ll only do them harm? I don’t want to let more in than I have, because…”
Upendo once again wraps his arms around me from behind. The blood on my arms, back, and face begins to boil in response to the surge of emotions triggered by his embrace. I hear Upendo groan in pain but he keeps his arms around me. My blood increases in temperature and Upendo’s grasp only grows stronger around me. Upendo’s breathing grows heavy as he grunts through the agony of enduring my boiling blood. I struggle against the determined Upendo, and I find my voice escaping my lips less to yell at Upendo but plead with him, “Let go of me… just let go… please… let go… let… go… I don’t want to hurt anymore…”
My blood cools and I stop struggling against Upendo who still breathes heavily as he grasps onto me. Prorem still holds onto my shoulders, and I hear Upendo more grunt than speak as he talks through his pain, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I acted as a king and a fool pursuing a daydream, and not as a brother or a grandfather. I saw a chance to make something more than the bastions of peace. I saw a chance for a lasting peace even beyond the threat of Aurhea, and so I acted trusting that my avenging angel would break the walls and chains preventing my dream from becoming a reality. I didn’t consult you because I had such faith in you as you’ve already done what I thought was impossible once for me, that I saw in you a chance for another miracle. I was able to hold my granddaughter, the last shreds of my dear wife and daughter upon this world, for the first time, and I was able to see her safely wed to a man she loves and rise to become a queen. I trusted you so much that I didn’t consider to think about what was being asked and how it’d affect your heart.”
“I’m not a god, or an angel,” I whisper hearing Upendo’s confession of trust in me. A confession that scares me, as it wasn’t a confession of trust per say, but belief akin to the belief that a man has in an idol or prophecy. Faith, that beautiful yet poisonous word is what is within the words spoken by Upendo. Faith that he shouldn’t have for such a pitiful god.
“I know you aren’t one… but it is hard for me not to see you in that light. Brother, what I did was for you and your aspiration to protect my dear Uzuri,” says Upendo still clutching me with trembling arms, “I know that I am not amidst the five you claim. Esther, Ashe, Lamia and her baby, and Uzuri are your people, and it is thanks to Uzuri that your protection extends to me and my people. I stand with you because I too wish to protect all I have left of my family. Because I stand with you, I ask you not to claim my people, but just Uzuri, as I will bear the burden of my people so that you may focus on protecting yours. Let us stand together, let us find strength in each other, let us triumph over the new gods, let us and those we protect know of true peace.”
“You don’t need to be enough,” says Prorem ruffling my hair as he lets go of my shoulders to join Choyera and Khub at the table in front of the fireplace of the embassy house.
“I don’t want to be a sword, but that’s what I am,” I whisper to Prorem and he looks at me with an understanding nod.
I then look to Choyera and guilt claws my soul as her face morphs into a slightly younger me with bloody hands weeping in an alley and I speak to that boy more than her as I say more to myself than him, “I’m more aware of what I did than you know. I know that those I kill have lovers, children, family, friends, and I know that some may have been driven to do evil to those I serve because of desperation or coercion. I killed those that loyally served the man that killed my parents and tortured the woman I love, and then I was forced to watch their families burn for the sins of those that sought to perpetuate the violence that Gehenna and I started. I hate that I am venerated as a hero because I killed the enemies of those that claim me, and I hate that I’ll be crying peace to potentially those I’ve done grievous harm. Yesterday’s enemies will never be my friends, because I wear their blood upon my flesh. I tried so hard to save everyone once, but I couldn’t even save all those I love. Now I kill all those in my way to carve a path of safety to protect my precious ones, and I find myself a brittle blade breaking under the stress. I was born a sword who dreamt of being a surgeon’s scalpel, and now my old and loved ideals fight with forced and taught lessons as I struggle forward knowing no forgiveness will ever come my way. Only justification’s shadow will give me shade from the ornery sun of my overwhelming guilt.”
“Then be a scalpel,” says Prorem breaking the illusion my mind cast upon me when my eyes drifted upon Choyera, “unfortunately with what I know of your burden, I do not think you can be anything but a blade for now. However, as both blade and blacksmith you can decide what type of blade you become. A sword’s utility is in killing men and is too specialized to do anything but it’s main purpose, but a scalpel may be exactly what you should be. A scalpel in the hands of the untrained can harm and kill, but to a healer it is an essential tool for surgery. A scalpel wounds with preciseness and removes disease with exactness. As a sword you cleaved with abandon, but if you are reborn as a scalpel you can hone yourself to take only what is necessary and allow for not death but healing to occur in your wake.”
“I must protect those I love. I can’t just heal and do nothing as a passive pacifist again. I can’t just let my precious ones die because I did nothing,” I say tortured by the lessons that my father and uncle taught me and that life beat into me.
“A blade is still a blade,” says Prorem taking up a knife on the table he sits at and jabs it into a hunk of meat in demonstration, “a kitchen knife may be used to slice food, but in the hands other than a chef or gourmand, a kitchen knife is just like any other blade that can be used to hurt and threaten lives. Blades cut, but what they cut differs by what the blade was made for, and who is the wielder. Be a blade that is more than just a sword. Be a wielder that is more than just a killer. However, this time you decide what blade you wish to be and how you wish to wield it, and don’t be afraid if you don’t hammer out a perfect knife, chisel, or scalpel the first time you try to reforge yourself, and don’t be afraid to make mistakes as you learn to wield what you create, as it takes practice and time to learn how to use a new tool.”
Cran nudges my arm and extends to me a red fruit from a branch as he says, “Pardon my interruption. Upendo requires medical attention. I’ve prepared a salve for his burns and pain, please administer it.”
I hadn’t noticed but Upendo is clinging onto me not to continue embracing me, but to steady himself. Upendo’s breathing is still coming in labored rasps, but growing more controlled and with my awareness of him I find myself turning around and in this action Upendo releases me. Upendo stumbles, but finds his footing, and my eyes behold that upon his chest is the angry burned flesh of a branded replica of the scarified spells upon my back.
Upendo seeing my concern for harming him gives me a weak chuckle and says, “we match now, brother.”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” I say breaking open the fruit Cran gave me to reveal the salve he fabricated within it and immediately start gingerly applying the creamy medicine to the celandilic script burns that I seared into Upendo’s flesh with my lack of control, “Why didn’t you let go, I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t make the burns go away,” says Upendo with a smug grin and I in response press a bit harder on one of his burns as I apply Cran’s medication to Upendo’s flesh which makes him wince and I assume curse in the teratolion tongue.
“Why didn’t you let go?” I ask, staring at the charred and cauterized tapestry I created through my lack of control of myself.
“You may not consider me worthy to be part of your cherished ones, but I consider you a cherished one. In another world you would have married my granddaughter and became my grandson, but unfortunately that is not this world,” says Upendo placing a hand on my head, “I should have treated you as a brother instead of my hero, and because I did this, I hurt a precious family member. I heard the cries of your spirit; I heard the loneliness of your voice; and I chose to hold on for dear life to show you that I will do better to see you as Skath and actually be there for you instead of praying to an angel to sic holy wrath upon my nightmares to achieve my dreams. These burns will become the scars that will be a physical manifestation of me always having your back, as I’ll support you until I no longer draw breath. Let me bear the weight of your burdens. Let me atone for placing more upon you, when you already were carrying too much. You don’t have to be alone. Please, let me hike with you up your mountain so we can see the glorious horizon together.”
“I burned you,” I whisper focusing on applying the ointment to avoid Upendo’s gaze.
“And I chose to hold on,” says Upendo lifting my head to look him in his eyes, “you aren’t alone Skath, and I ask you to forget about the Sons of Perdition and go and establish trade for me instead. I can’t have my grandson cast aside his life with reckless abandon.”
“I can’t let you do that,” I say pulling away from Upendo, shaking my head, “I’m a celandil and they are celandil. I… I… am the only one that stands a chance against them…”
“Do you also plan on being the only one to stand against Aurhea and her new gods?” says Upendo opening his hand and chopping the top of my head with it, “The point behind the bastions of peace was to protect our people from Aurhea, and to protect doesn’t mean to merely raise a shield and pray. The Sons of Perdition offer us an opportunity to practice against what I assume are weaker versions of what is to come. Therefore, it should be Visala and I that faces them, not you this time, you may help, but I ask you to not be our champion.”
“But what happens if your armies are crippled beyond repair? Then their will be no bulwark to put our faith in when Aurhea arrives,” I say as a rebuttal to Upendo and to my surprise he nods and accepts my words.
Upendo strokes his wispy beard and the finger like appendages that jut out of his nose wiggle as he genuinely ponders my words within himself and before he speaks we are both surprised by Khub whose face remains upon the table but his hands rise and vibrate as he says, “Boom Zwinger. A trap that overpowers even the citadel of ancients. Weapons that can kill gods.”
I look to Choyera and say, “Do you know what Khub’s talking about.”
Choyera shakes her head, and Khub forces himself to sit up with all the force of his will to stumble halfway and settle on placing his head upon one of his arms to turn his head to face Upendo and I. Khub looks like he’s about to loose his lunch, but with a few deep breaths he obligates himself to speak, “If gods… I mean celandil can be overpowered or taken by surprise, why not do both. Skath exploded Shoron Gaol with a snap of his fingers using science, why not just explode The Sons of Perdition. Visga create fortresses with walls that create a killing field called a Zwinger. Why not create a false fortress and load it’s interior with bait to lure our enemies to a situation we have absolute control over? The false fortress will have a killing field rigged with boom stuff and with a single kaboom we can take out all The Sons of Perdition in a single go.”
“Certain traps only work once,” says Upendo who thoroughly looks like he enjoyed Khub’s idea, “though, maybe we only need it to work once, as The Sons of Perdition are of a limited number. However, we are soon to face gods, so is it wise to unveil a stratagem that can destroy the fortresses of gods early against demi-gods considering our true enemy?”
“Also, what happens if we don’t destroy all The Sons of Perdition with the ‘boom zwinger’ trap? If they retreat, then we’ll have to face those that survive at full strength and they’ll be wiser to our schemes. To be fair, we’d reduce casualties, but there could still be a great loss of life for our side,” I say adding my doubts to Upendo’s but, a part of me wants to believe in Khub’s plot and his words indicate that he hasn’t told us everything, “you did say weapons though not weapon, so is the boom zwinger your only idea, or do you have more?”
“Shoron Gaol flew,” says Khub again gagging only to swallow and force more words from his mouth, “I have an idea for a new weapon, a god and king slaying weapon. However, we are even now.”
“What do you mean that we are even? Aren’t I going to guide you safely to Tackenae, which means that aren’t you still indebted to me?” I ask curious as to what Khub wants so badly to try to ask me for more than I’m already giving him.
Khub feebly smiles and points a wavering finger toward me and then to himself, “you saved my life, and you risked my life to keep your sorry ass unmarried to a glirdon. A life for a life, which makes us even. Also, I can travel on my own, I just wanted the added security of having you with me. I could take off now and you’d lose your opportunity to obtain a god slaying weapon.”
“Might as well hear her out,” says Upendo hobbling over to the table to sit himself down as it’s clear that his wounds are still ailing him, and he’s been tottering on his feet to appeal to me with every ounce of strength he had.
“What do you want?” I ask as if somehow Khub does have a god slaying weapon in his mind that is successful in its purpose, Khub may change the future of Nuren.
“I want,” Khub says to then look to Choyera and blush, and then to Upendo and he then bites his lip as he thinks on his words to then say, “all I want is your word that you’ll give me three favors of my choice, and I’ll give you in exchange for these favors a prototype for the weapon in my mind. Let me preface this, as the weapon might not work and I’ll need Cran’s teaching to make it, so I’ll also add one thing that I’ll give on top of the weapon to make things fair…”
Khub blushes again and I’m not sure why as what is he offering that would cause him embarrassment, “what are you also offering, as I’m already willing to agree to your terms.”
Before Khub could accept that I’m more than willing to take his offer in its incomplete state he says, “let me be your sword. You clearly struggle with the idea of spilling blood and making heads roll, so let me do that for you if the need arises… of course, I’ll only be your sword for as long as I take to develop the weapon, or until Visgal summons me to active duty again.”
“I do not want this addition to your terms,” I say and to prove my point one of my scars opens and summons a plasma ball that orbits my body to then dive into my hand where I crush the plasma ball in my grasp extinguishing it, “I’m more than able to protect myself.”
“Your life maybe, but not your heart, mind, or soul,” says Khub squinting his eyes and forcing himself to actually sit up straight to face me, “I’m a soldier, and you aren’t, so let me offer my services as your soldier. Regardless, my offer to create the weapon is contingent upon this addition to my original words. Take it or leave it.”
I look to Upendo and he shrugs his shoulders and says, “we have nothing to lose, and everything to gain, isn’t that right Khub and Choyera?”
Khub blushes again which makes me only more unsure whether to accept his deal or not, but curiosity wins over discretion and doubt and I say, “I accept your deal, I’ll trade three favors for the god slaying weapon and your protection.”
“Deal,” says Khub nodding to me and then he slumps back onto the table having expelled all his energy getting what he wanted.
“Khub that’s just pitiful, but at least you’re taking steps to not live with regrets like me,” whispers Choyera as she shakes her head looking at the suffering fool across from her.
“With that settled, I believe our food is getting cold, and I’d prefer we celebrate a glorious new morning under the newly made banner of the Skathan Federation then dwell on killing demi-gods any further. Let us eat, drink, and delight in more merry conversation, as tomorrow we kaboom gods!” says Upendo who was clearly satisfied with Khub’s stratagems and apparently felt like we’ve reached a conclusion to our conversation of thwarting Aurhea’s apocalypse. Upendo with the change in subject of the conversation, engages Prorem and Choyera in more lighthearted topics, and though Choyera trembles she accepts Upendo’s friendly advance. I watch as these four very different people sit, eat, converse, and dream together, and I stand separate.
I stand alone looking at a table laden with food and surrounded by rambunctious company, and it hearkens back to a time when a similar table to this one was surrounded by my first friends and my first family. I see the Sororitas Daemonica teasing each other. I see my mother sitting on my father’s lap. I see Gareth happily eating and stealing glances at Lamia. I see Esther delighting in a hope long denied but finally fulfilled basking in the warmth of the family she should have had that would have loved her and provided her strength in times of misery. I don’t want to replace them. I take a step back.
“Skath, come, join the feast,” beckons Upendo.
“The food is quite nice when you get used to it,” says Choyera with a forced smile as she tries to hide the bugs on her plate under some moss.
“Yeah, come on, sit down and take a load off. We can slay gods tomorrow,” mumbles Khub raising a hand to wave me over, taking great care to not move his head as it is firmly planted on the table.
Prorem says nothing but he looks at the door and nods to me as if giving me permission to escape if I want.
I look at the door and I see Gareth holding a mushroom and bug skewer that he tosses to me with a wink of his eye to then fade away. I hold the illusory skewer in my hands and twirl it between my fingers, and I take a few cautious steps. I look at the skewer and it also fades, leaving me with only the vision of those that actually share this space with me. One more step forward, and then my feet walk me over to take a place at the table.