Serpent Kings Saga (Omnibus Edition) Page 7

  He had been telling the truth when he told Nordin he didn’t underestimate Ezekiah. The prophet had always had the ability to know when someone was lying to him. If he asked Nordin, or any of his men traveling with him, they would not lie because they had no knowledge.

  Varen smiled at his own ingenuity. Soon they would have what they had needed so long in their struggle against the dragons: the power to wage real war against them.

  Varen stared out into the darkness around them. For the slightest moment, he caught sight of someone. A dark figure had been standing out against the backdrop of ever present snow. He blinked. The figure was gone. Varen grinned knowingly, and then turned back to the fire. Tomorrow would be a very fulfilling day.

  COMES A DRAGON

  I had taken Zora’s advice to heart. Despite butterflies making chaos in the pit of my stomach, I tried to be calm. A night’s sleep had made me feel better; the initial shock of the message the day before somewhat buffeted by the passing of a little time. I rose early, washed and applied sweet smelling ointment. My best silk robe had been laid out the night previous.

  Observing myself in the looking glass, I supposed I had done the best I could. I had often been given compliments on my looks: dark hair and skin to be envied. But these words had been offered by doting motherly figures and close friends. Men who knew better dared not ever to look upon one of the Serpent Kings’ priestesses to lust after them. To do so meant death for them and their entire family. Consequently, I never received compliments from men at all.

  It wasn’t something I spent much time worrying about. Still, I couldn’t help but think that it might be nice to be noticed by a man—to hear compliments—to feel that I was desirable. I pushed it out of my mind. I was going to stand before a god today. Such things were unimportant in comparison. Belial would not care what I looked like, so long as I appeared before him in the best manner I could.

  I left my room early, making my way to the temple posthaste. It didn’t matter how long I had to wait. The main thing was not to be late on so important an occasion. I practically flew through the market place and into the temple. The High Priest was nowhere to be found. An attendant was expecting me, though he admitted to thinking I would be arriving closer to time. Still, he allowed me inside the vestibule to Belial’s private chamber.

  With three hours to go before noon, I settled in on one of the marble benches and waited. The attendant, an elderly man who may have served in this position his entire life, offered me a cup of water and some fruit. I had admitted to forgetting to eat anything before coming, and so he had urged me to take something. After all, it wouldn’t do to faint before a god. I feared I might do exactly that, despite eating, but I took the food anyway.

  After an hour of sitting on the cold hard marble, I began to feel less anxious but more sleepy. I shook myself, but still there was nothing to do but look around the vestibule for the hundredth time to occupy myself.

  I started awake to find the elderly attendant smiling at me. “Oh, no!” I cried, realizing I had fallen asleep.

  He started to laugh. “Don’t worry, my dear, you’ve not overslept. In fact, I only came to fetch you.”

  “Is it time already?” My nervousness had suddenly returned.

  “Not quite,” he said. “I just thought you might like to walk up to the observatory. There, you will be able to see Belial the Glorious as he descends from his mountain.”

  “Oh,” I said. “That would be wonderful.”

  He led me out of the vestibule, up several flights of stairs to a little tower enclosed by a circular balustrade and a little domed roof with a spire reaching toward the sky. There was a light breeze blowing, but the air was beginning to warm as the morning gave way to afternoon. The sun would soon find its zenith and it would be time for me to stand before Belial.

  “He will soon come from there,” the attendant said, pointing toward the mountain called Doom in the distance.

  It was one of the few that did not have snow on it. Volcanic activity kept it smoldering. It was said that the dragons liked the heat. They had always dwelt apart from society—the ways of a god, I supposed.

  I had the opportunity to take in a marvelous view of Babale. The city spread into the distance on every side. The smells of food cooking in the market drifted up here without the foul odors sometimes found in the streets. It was pleasant, and I began to feel a little better despite the approaching moment.

  The attendant was suddenly pointing. “Behold!” he said. “Belial the Glorious has come.”

  I turned toward the volcanic mountain and did not see anything at first. But soon a shape began to be distinguishable from the mountain. As the form grew in size, I could make out Belial’s bright red scales, the color of new blood when it first rises in a wound, hot from the artery. He glided down toward us, riding the wind with massive wings that may have stretched hundreds of yards from tip to tip. My breath caught in my chest. It was hard to imagine how something so large could possibly remain suspended in the air.

  I vaguely heard the attendant speaking to me. “Are you all right, my child? You’re not going to faint are you?”

  I made sure I had a firm hold on the balustrade. “No, I’m fine, really. He’s just so beautiful.”

  “Yes,” the attendant agreed. “Glorious is a fitting name.”

  All at once, Belial was upon us, sweeping down over Babale like an eagle after a rabbit. He roared, shaking the ground beneath our feet. I wondered if the tower might collapse under the sheer power of it. As he passed over, very close, the displacement of air around his sinuous crimson form washed through the tower observatory nearly knocking us off our feet. I screamed excitedly, but it was lost in the rushing wind.

  The great red dragon flew miles in seconds, sweeping around in a massive turn that brought him back to the temple. Beating his huge wings, Belial slowed his descent rapidly. He hovered for a moment over a courtyard overlooked by the observatory. His wing-beats scoured the ground, sweeping away any dust and debris that had managed to elude those entrusted with its cleaning. The ground trembled as he touched down; hind legs first, then forelegs.

  His talons gouged the stone, etching new lines in the granite over older trenches that time and weather had already smoothed. His long neck craned to find an entourage rushing to greet him and lead him inside his private chamber.

  I found myself trembling all over just looking at him. How could I possibly stand before such a creature? I was tempted to run, but the attendant was there trying to reassure me with words I could no longer discern. My mind had turned to mush.

  “Don’t worry, my dear,” he said. “You’ve been given a great honor. It is rare that one so young is summoned before Belial.”

  “Must I go now?” I asked, not entirely in control of myself.

  “We will go back to the vestibule,” he said. “There, you will wait a moment until Belial has received our sacrifices.”

  The dragon was going to feed before I stood before him. Somehow that was a little comforting. I had never heard of the dragons eating a human. Still, it couldn’t hurt that he ate before I arrived.

  I soon found myself standing outside Belial’s private chamber in the vestibule, staring at the great metal doors that withstood any intrusion. The attendant stood by me, leaving me last minute instructions. “Now don’t be nervous, child,” he began, watching the little bell mounted beside the door. A little chain went back into the wall somewhere. “The chamber will seem dark to you, but there are torches and candles within. Belial likes the darkness. He can see easily in it.”

  “But how will I find my way before him?”

  “Not to worry. A path will lead you,” he instructed. “Just stay on the path. It will stop at a marble balustrade where you will stand before Belial himself. Now, I don’t want you to be alarmed by the odor.”

  “Odor? What odor?”

  “Dragon’s are quite musky,” he said.

  I had more questions, but the little bell began
to ring before I could find the words. Everything was suddenly happening too fast.

  “You’ll do fine, my dear,” the old man said. The massive doors parted before me, and I felt a nudge from the attendant to get me going. My feet obeyed while my mind reeled. I was through the doors before I knew what was happening. The doors closed behind me, and the darkness enveloped me.

  Ahead, the path led deeper into the chamber down a short corridor with one torch burning on either wall. I stopped only a moment, trying to gather my trembling limbs and have them obey my will again.

  “Come, my child,” said a thunderous voice. The entire chamber resonated with its power. I was startled out of my inner turmoil. The commandment overtook me. I moved forward despite my sudden terror. The corridor was soon behind me, the chamber opening up into a cavernous dome ahead.

  Candles by the hundreds burned around me on stone tiers where the wax cascaded toward the floor like frozen waterfalls. The elderly attendant had not lied. Already the pungent odor of dragon assaulted my senses. It was like fog in the air—inescapable. The path continued deeper into the chamber, outlined by the glow of candlelight.

  I reached the balustrade and stopped. Beyond, the chamber was cast in darkness. I could sense that the floor had dropped away past the place where I was standing. Somewhere out there Belial was watching me from the darkness.

  Coals of fire ignited in the dark—a pair of them—moving together as one. It was not the candlelight that made these eyes shine. They blazed with inner luminance, seeming altogether not of this world. My terror broke the dam of my courage, and I fell prostrate to the marble floor at once. “What is thy bidding, my master,” I said, truly not knowing what else to say in the presence of a god, or even if I should speak at all.

  A low rumbling resounded from the darkness. Whether a purring or growling from deep within the dragon, I could not discern. I had been taught, as all children were, that Belial the Glorious could bathe the world in fire with his very breath. I wondered if I might feel that terrible flame wash over me at any moment, having stumbled over some nuance of protocol when coming into the High Serpent King’s presence.

  Honestly, I had never been taught what to do in such an eventuality. The very assumption, that a common priestess would have this opportunity, bordered on preposterous. Still, Belial did have attendants to serve him, bring his food and attend to his desires in various ways. Surely, there was some training on what to do and not do in a dragon’s presence.

  Belial said nothing. And yet, I could feel his eyes upon me, hear his breath and feel the heat of his body permeating the chamber around me. I remained as I was, waiting. In no way, shape, or form would I dare raise myself presumptuously unless bidden to do so.

  At last, he spoke. His voice was like thunder rumbling off the walls of the chamber. “So, this is the young woman who withstood the attack upon my sacred temple?”

  I started to reply, but felt he had probably only asked the question in consideration of me.

  “Arise, Priestess Gwen, Wraith Dancer of the High Guard, and stand before your lord, High Serpent King Belial the Glorious,” he bellowed.

  Quivering, I hastened to my feet, careful to keep my gaze downcast. I did not deserve to look upon him. All at once, fire erupted from the darkness before me. I knew that I would be turned to ash in an instant, but the flame did not come for me. Instead, a great pyre had been lit before the dragon, down on the floor far below. A furious heat filled the air around me. I thought I might faint at any moment.

  “Look upon me, daughter, and behold the lord of all the earth.”

  I feared to do so, but his command was absolute. I could not refuse and live. My eyes beheld him. I did not realize what it would be like to behold a god. I had never felt such complete terror in all my life.

  Belial towered over me like a living mountain, even from his resting place far below where I stood at the balustrade. Sharp spines with webbed skin fanned out from his face like the sails of some great ship. His jaws had parted, and a vortex of flame swirled in the depth of his cavernous mouth. Every tooth caught the light of his flame—crimson shards—everyone as long as a giant’s spear.

  The scales of the dragon’s belly were black, but blood red in every other place I could see. When I saw him, my strength left me as though my very bones had melted within me. I could find no support within my trembling frame. At that moment, I could not imagine anything more awesome in power and might than this being who had summoned me. What I had seen of Belial from the observation tower had startled me, but not in this way at all.

  As I lay again on the cold stone, I heard his voice again—calmer than before, less terrifying. I heard him stamp out the pyre below, instantly removing the great light that revealed his form in the darkness. “My child, find strength,” he said. “I have not summoned you to destroy you.”

  I still didn’t know if I would make it, but that statement did make me feel a little better.

  “I wanted you to understand the power which you serve—that you’re service is not in vain,” Belial continued from the darkness. “I have a mission for you, wraith dancer; one for which your talents are especially necessary, for you have shown yourself zealous for my name and courageous in the face of true danger.”

  I began to gather myself, finding strength I did not know I had in order to stand before Belial as he required. Slowly but surely, I rose to my knees, thankful that his form had once again been shrouded by darkness from my eyes. Through quivering lips I found the courage to reply.

  “My lord, I live only to serve your greatness.”

  “And you shall serve it,” he said.

  “What would you have me to do, my lord?” I asked.

  The great head moved steadily toward me, the eyes betraying his position to me. “You know of the Resistance and those who lead the movement against my reign?” he asked.

  “Yes, my lord,” I answered. “I am told a villain called Ezekiah leads the Resistance.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What would you have me do, my lord?”

  The low, guttural rumble resonated again, rolling away in waves from Belial’s massive body. The eyes seemed to blaze with greater light as he spoke. “I want you to kill him.”

  COMMISSIONED

  Nothing could have prepared me for the commission given unto me by Belial. I realized, of course, that Ezekiah was a mere man—mortal—flesh and blood, like me. But he was also said to be a prophet. And though no one voiced it aloud, I could sense that he was a man who was greatly feared throughout the kingdom.

  Still reeling from my encounter with Belial, I was quickly ushered from the Serpent King’s private chamber down a secluded corridor to a meeting with the High Priest himself. Here, I would receive the details of Belial’s plan to assassinate the leaders of the Resistance Movement. The dragon had spared me any further flattery, choosing instead to regale me with the great need to rid the kingdom of vermin like Ezekiah and his kind, as well as telling me how blessed I was to be one of his faithful children and the greatness of this opportunity to serve.

  All of this I received with sincerest enthusiasm. Anyone could see that the Resistance was the blight of the kingdom. Men like Ezekiah, and the other man whom Belial had briefly mentioned, disseminated lies to the public, undermining the faith of those who rightly trusted in the benevolent gods we served. Belial and the other Serpent Kings wanted them destroyed along with their followers. I would have the task of ridding the kingdom of its greatest threat: the so-called prophet, Ezekiah.

  As Belial had repeatedly mentioned before dismissing me, this was a great honor. Still, questions nagged at the back of my mind. Try as I might, they would not go away. I could ignore them, but they weren’t going away. Why did a god feel any threat at all from a mere mortal? Couldn’t the dragons, as gods, simply speak their desires and have them fulfilled upon these rebels? Why did assassins have to be sent at all?

  Disconcerting as these questions were to my steadfast faith,
I had no answers with which to satisfy my growing curiosity. And I had no time. The two robed servants of the High Priest opened the door to his private office, ushering me inside.

  The High Priest was seated at the head of an oval shaped conference table. His high-back leather chair resembled the larger one he sat upon when conducting the assembly of the faithful. Also seated at the table, in regular looking chairs, were three young women. All of them were wraith dancers whom I knew personally as friends or acquaintances.

  The High Priest did not rise when I entered, but motioned me toward the only vacant chair next to Agnes on one side of the oval table. Rachel and her sister Rebecca sat together directly opposite us. All of them had dangerous reputations as experienced dispensers of Belial’s justice. The sisters were over one hundred years old; twins who had trained together as apprentices to the same Elder Mother. Agnes, the youngest besides me, was still twenty years my senior. Apart from a number, age had not touched their beauty or youthful vitality in any perceivable way. To the uninformed, they might have only just graduated from their apprenticeships.

  Agnes slipped me a sidelong smile. I pretended not to notice, deferring to the hard looks coming from the High Priest. Upon entering the room I had noticed that Rachel and Rebecca both appeared surprised to see me, as well as a bit resentful of my inclusion. After all, I was only just out of my apprenticeship, early at that, and had been promoted to the High Guard beyond them all.

  “Ladies,” the High Priest began, “You have all been selected for this mission based upon your outstanding skills and zeal for our faith. I realize this comes at short notice. However, the recent attacks upon the palace and Belial’s temple point to a growing brazenness among the Resistance. The time has come to cut off the heads of this movement so that the body may die.”