Chapter 30

He rubbed his thumb over the paper again in contemplation. The words delicately scrawled over the parchment had assaulted his peace of mind for several hours already. As a King he didn't appreciate such things, he would have much rather been commanding the attention of his two favorite consorts, their sinfully naked bodies tantalized him even in that moment. But the moment he looked down again those thoughts turned to ash and his mouth dried up like the great deserts across the seas.

'My people claim to have seen a dragon...' He could have scoffed at such a notion. King Reynal knew nothing, his head was stuffed with crab shells and booze. Mostly just booze. Yet the letter he had written was far too sobering to be a farce or a joke.

'Glittering red scales, a woman held it. Her hair was as red as the dragon, presumably the beast's rider...' He ran a thumb over the word 'rider' with a sneer. A woman? Red haired no less. That could only mean elfen in blood. Damned knife-ears always got in his way.

'As the city burned she extinguished it. DragonFyre was set to consume it all when they appeared. Yet as I sent out my Royal Guard to find and apprehend them they vanished. However I do have it in good word that they have been seen travelling east towards your Kingdom.' He rolled his tongue over his teeth. If that was true he should send out some scouts. He could salvage a few of his plans yet.

After reading the parchment a few more times he tossed it casually into the hearth. He cared little for the missives of Reynal, especially considering that the King and his entire city should have long since burned to the ground. He had not spent months upon months orchestrating the event only to be met with defeat. Utter defeat no less, from the mouths of his spies he discovered that only a small portion of the city was affected thanks to a band of heroes. Only pirates managed to die.

He pulled out a few other letters, these from the pirates he had paid to transport full loads of the DragonFyre. He had paid a pretty penny then abandoned them in the hopes that time would work in his favor. They had written to him over and over with growing urgency as the barrels aged. They even informed him that they would sell it and keep his money. Of course no one in their right minds would buy already aged DragonFyre, so their hulls remained filled with it. And it had worked, only in the end it would seem fate had thwarted him.

"Your majesty what is it you would like us to do?" He looked up into the wizened face of his oldest and truest Kingsman. Deeply wrinkled leathery skin covered the man from head to toe. Snow white hair sat upon his head, cheeks, and chin. What was he now? Fifty seven years old? The oldest guard the city had to offer. The King tapped his fat fingers on the desk sluggishly. What did he want? To start he wanted to finish what he started and destroy Amethyst Cove and everyone in it. But for now a new and more pressing task was at hand.

"There's a band of dwarves travelling, five or so if I recall. With them is a woman with brilliant red hair, a half-elf if I had to guess. I've heard that they may be travelling to the city, I want you to send out a few brigades to see if you find them. If you do bring the woman to me immediately. I don't care if you have to put her in chains to do it." He waved a hand dismissing the man. The Kingsman bowed deeply before turning and marching off. If there was one thing the King liked it was a brisk and cold departure after orders had been given.

With that out of his way he was now free to think upon other things, or even call upon his consorts for a few hours of frisky play. But his mind was plagued with the idea of dragons and their roles in the politics of the future. If there really was a new one then rest assured times were on the cusp of changing. And he could be at the helm of it. He could command untold riches, armies, everything. That thought alone was enough to drive away every other desire save the one of possessing the dragon.

'Perhaps Reynal was worth a little something after all. Once I have that beast I can finish razing that city of his to hell. Then the coasts will be mine from here to Deleport. After that I can amass a fleet and start spreading.' He looked out through the window of his lavish study to watch the sun settle into the distant horizon. He couldn't wait until the day the skies turned black and Vekkar returned to the mortal plane. It was his sworn duty to prepare the world for the return of their true ruler after all.

XXXXXXXXX

Talia kicked the thick mud off of her boots with a scowl. Arboros was as filthy and wretched as she remembered with the addition of a few less people. She paused for a moment to wonder if 'addition of less people' was the proper way to say it. Or think it rather. Either way she noted the decidedly empty streets with a growing level of concern.

"Is it supposed to be this... Dead?" Bromyr huffed as he waddled his way through another thick mud patch. It went all the way up to his knees. He was particularly good at complaining for a dwarven king Talia noticed. He hadn't stopped making complaints from the moment they managed to sneak past the walls.

"Keep your voice down." Talia hissed as she looked around carefully. The sun had long since set but even the most remote portions of the city still had eyes. She didn't want to have to make a run for it before she had a chance to sleep and eat a little. Her ass hurt, she hadn't rode for so long in quite a while.

"Where are we going?" Grimor whispered nervously as he pushed past the other dwarves. Talia watched the youngling closely as he eyed the decrepit buildings around them. This was probably a new sight for the dwarves. Probably a new smell too, she thought with a wrinkled nose, the streets of Arboros were notedly putrid that time of year.

"There's a temple up here to Hephatus. Anyone with a brain in their head leaves it alone unless they have a reason to be there. It'll probably be the safest bet for us." The temple itself was one of the mid-sized ones the city had to offer. It sat between the temple for Deliha, goddess of homemaking, cooking, and eating, and Thedis, god of night. Well, he was more than just a god of night but Talia could hardly remember what realms of the world he oversaw. It had a lot of glowing mushrooms around it so she wondered if it had to do with the flora of darkness. Either way the other two temples were dedicated to rather forgettable gods, perfect for a place dedicated to the goddess of murdering, shadow, and other such nefarious deeds.

"You want us to reside in the holy house of... Your goddess." Killo spoke up. His voice was particularly gruff in the growing chill of night. Talia eyed him as she continued to lead the way, the smithy was not a very talkative or opinionated man but when he spoke she always seemed to take more notice.

"We won't be bothered there. Any inn or tavern that we tried to hole up in would attract attention one way or another. At least here we'll be in a blind spot." She turned just in time to spot the broken spire that pierced the sky like a jagged broken tooth. The building was just as worn down and ugly as the rest of the city's interior. The wood that had built the tower, spire, and fence around the stonework all reeked of rot and mold. The stone stank of moss and moisture. Part of her felt a little upset at the sight, she could remember a time that the stone building had been carefully hand polished, the wood delicately treated and maintained. Even a garden had once grown in the front.

"It looks..." Grimor drawled but couldn't find the words to describe it. Not the right words, not good words. Talia felt a deep unsettling feeling in her heart. She couldn't deny that it looked a mess. Probably like a place where people would go to die, and in a sense the dwarves wouldn't be wrong to think that. She watched lots of people die there. She had almost been one of them.

"When I was just a child shortly after Hephatus had brought me in to the family we used to gather here once a month to worship with our brothers and sisters across the land. This street would be full of people coming and going to pay their respects to whichever god or goddess they chose to acknowledge that day. Priests and priestesses would keep these temples spotless." She stepped through the front entryway, the doors had long since rotted off with the neglect they'd faced. The inside was dim, filthy, and smelled even worse than the outside. She traced her fingers down the wooden doorframe. How many memories lingered there? If she could only draw them from the wood and stone.

"What happened?" Bromyr brushed his leather pants off before trying to clean up his long since filthy cotton shirt and leather vest. He looked like a commoner just like the rest of his guard. Maybe they even looked like they belonged there. Talia blinked in the dark,

"King Gordon happened. He took the throne some time shortly before I ever came here and drove this city into poverty the likes of which it's never seen. This was supposed to be the Crystal city, light of hope and harbinger of great wisdom and knowledge. But his lavish lifestyle and steep taxes drove everyone out. Misfortune follows misfortune of course and poverty lead to food shortages, sickness, hopelessness. These temples couldn't save anyone from the realities of life. An empty belly can only last so long even when it's held within the confines of the gods temples. Eventually those that wanted to survive left and... Well no one's come back yet." She stepped into the darkness then with a deep fortifying breath.

The inside had been beautiful once with polished whiteish-gray marble floors, granite pillars, and an obsidian slab that dominated the center of the room near the back. To anyone who didn't know the temple, or the ways of worship for Hephatus may have imagined it to be some sort of gathering table. Perhaps something that the worshippers would place food upon for a bountiful meal after their prayers had been held.

Talia stared down at it with cold repressed horror and rage. The black reflective stone held nothing but bitter memories. In fact she was certain that it was a pillar of dread and darkness for any who had once gathered there and looked upon it when it was being used. How poignant for it to be black as the void. She reached out as if to touch it but drew up short just before her finger tips made contact. She couldn't bring herself to even graze its smooth surface.

"What is that?" Grimor slid forward while the rest of his brethren began to wander and inspect what was left of the temple. She could understand his interest, after all Hephatus had touched his soul. She could feel it. Perhaps he was drawn to it like everyone of Hephatus's children were. It was a representation of the void after all. It absorbed its fair share of blood, screams, and fear. And it wanted more.

"It's a metaphor. And a tool. If you want to know the truth I'll tell you but I must warn you... It's an ugly truth." She pulled her hand away at last. She didn't need to draw memories from it through touching it. After all they were still crisp in her minds eye to torment her. Grimor shuddered as he stepped forward beside her. He stood just to her hip with his blondish colored beard sticking out. Was he curious? But of course he was. No one stepped foot through the temple entrance without wondering why something so dark stuck in the center of a temple swathed in light colored stone.

"I... Suppose I should know these things." His voice was impossibly soft in the darkness. It was a fitting quiet she decided for the story she was about to tell. His brethren faded into the shadows to explore the other rooms and halls. She was glad they weren't there, this wasn't a story for their ears. Their hearts didn't belong to Hephatus, their souls weren't bound to the void.

"This slab has multiple purposes. Though its main purpose is to be used when binding your soul with Hephatus. A ritual is held and the people will gather here. You are bound to it with rope after being stripped naked. They spread your hands and legs open to the world and sprinkle blessed waters, herbs, and flowers over your body. Then they start to burn incense. It numbs the mind and the body until you feel like your swimming and breathing in mud. Their prayers flow in and out of your skull until the words turn into garble.

Once you're good and fuzzy to the world they start to cut you. Your blood mingles with the stone. It's magic, I don't know how it happens but the stone just sort of... Eats it up. But you don't really feel the pain. You know it's there but it just sort of exists with you in the void between alive and dead. Once you're weakened your soul is believed to open up to the goddess's influence. This is when it is determined if you are worthy or not. If she brands you with her mark and gifts you with a skill you are unbound and taken to the recovery room. If you're not they slit your throat and sacrifice you to her will. The weak are not permitted to enter here." This was of course long before Nazir had discovered the little glowing blue blade and its potency against non-humans. Of course a regular blade could do just as well given enough time. She had watched plenty of her friends die on the stone to a regular blade. They grew more and more pale as the hours passed and eventually Nazir deemed them unworthy.

"How long...?" Grimor reached forward to brush the glossy surface with his fingers.

"My own ceremony lasted sixteen hours. They gave me more time considering my higher tolerance for injury and pain. Hephatus likes to take her time judging your soul, but in the between-world time works so much differently. A minute passes in a blink, suddenly you wake up and it's been hours. Nico's ceremony took five hours. It depends on the person, the soul, and the body. Sometimes her test is too much for a mortal to bear, worthy or no." She stepped back to look at the walls. How many people had she seen rise to their new life here? And how many did she watch die, clutching at hallucinations and empty promises before they bled out?

"Do these temples exist all over?" He pulled his hand back when he asked. She could tell he was covered in gooseflesh. Could he tell how many people had died there? Their own people. They hadn't even started to murder outside their family yet. She wished the pews were still standing, they had been made from heavy hardwoods. They were the first to get burned for firewood. Now there was nowhere to sit comfortably. Perhaps that was a good thing.

"They used to. I don't know anymore, Nazir never allowed us to travel farther than Arboros for religious events." She could hear crickets outside singing as the moons began to descend. Dew was starting to settle, stars were beginning to fade. It was time for rest.

"If I were to try and become accepted into... Hephatus's order, how would I do it? Is it something I could even do?" He followed her as she made her way to the dorms of the temple. The beds were probably long since gone but it probably still had doors and windows. If the dwarves weren't there already setting up they would be shortly enough.

"It's not that simple anymore. The priests and priestesses disappeared a long time ago. The holy ingredients have long since been pilfered and smoked up for some poor sod to get high before they died. There's nothing left here but that slab and the memories it holds. Well, that and the temple walls. It's not enough." She didn't want him to even try truth be told. It was not a ceremony for the feint of heart. As a child she was far too wide eyed and eager to understand the hellish nature of it. As an adult she could fully comprehend the horrors it held at its heart. Ignorance was the key to it, when you didn't know the pain and nightmares it would bring you couldn't fear it. You could go in with an empty mind and an open soul. There was a reason adults rarely ever participated in it. In all her life she had only seen one man try. And she watched him fail too.

"If I wanted to learn more at least, could you teach me?" She paused before the double doors that would lead into the dorms. Would he really want to know?

"Another time perhaps. When things have settled. If you look around tomorrow perhaps you can find some books to read. Don't hold your breath though, what's left of this place can at least tell a little of the past." She pushed the heavy carved doors open to reveal more darkness. As imagined the windows were still intact, though the room was all but empty.

"Thank you for telling me. I know it can't be easy to talk about some of this." He placed a hand on her lower back. She would have slapped it away but she felt a surprising amount of camaraderie with him. She was interested to see how a dwarf would survive in a world of darkness and murder. She'd never come across a dwarven assassin before. Hephatus had a sense of humor it would seem.

"Make up a place to sleep, once everyone is settled I'll show you the dining hall, or what used to be the dining hall. We can try to make something to eat there." She turned away to find her own little corner to sleep in. She needed her own time to reminisce and think about everything that had happened inside and outside the once holy walls.