The Undying God (16 page)

A great chasm stretched from the
forest’s edge to the city aqueducts. The water bridge to Azia-Nocti
had been swept away in the maelstrom.

Decades would pass before the city
recovered from the calamity. The ruins of the city entrance were a
sobering reminder of how quickly life could end. Arxu and Nishka
barely managed to escape with their lives, but many citizens of
Azia-Nocti had not been so fortunate.

They would bear the devastation to
their city for decades to come, and the bitter rivalry between the
oligarchs would only delay the recovery efforts.

“Are you insane?!” Nishka yelled. “How
many people did you kill in those buildings by doing whatever
you—?”

“Hrioshango did not hear any screams...
Did you not see the mass exodus from the district? So many helpless
humans fleeing when they saw my—er,
the
spider!” Nishka
huffed in indignation. His consolation that no one suffered would
have to suffice for now.

“What was that thing?” she said,
looking back at the city. “What was it doing?”

“Obviously, the sins of the people have
manifested in a vengeful demon charged with carrying out their
punishment,” Hrioshango hissed. He was careful not to burst into
raucous laughter. “It detests the greed and selfishness of the
people! Behold as their wickedness breeds a demon from below the
city that shall remind them that they have strayed from the
virtuous path!”

Nishka eyed the darkling
skeptically.

“Whatever.”

“Leave us,” Arxu sharply
commanded.

“I will not be parted from my cloak!
You must return it to Hrioshango!”

Arxu glanced at his staff as though
contemplating finishing this once and for all. He reached for the
pendant around his neck and fingered the clasp. He stripped off the
cloak across his shoulders and Hrioshango’s eyes widened in glee.
At last, he would be reunited with his precious cloak and its
illegal inventory. Arxu cast the cloak into the sky and the wind
snatched it.

Hrioshango shrieked and elbowed the
Nightwalker out of the way. He bound toward the sunsetting horizon
in pursuit of the elusive cloak.

Nishka watched as their only method of
salvaging her father’s merchandise was lost. She knew Arxu had only
abandoned the cloak to be rid of the darkling. Nevertheless, it
signaled the end of their mission, and Nishka felt
crushed.

“It’s over,” Arxu admitted. “Our
journey has ended. I will bring you home to your
father.”

* * *

Margzor stood precariously above the
roaring waters. He had barely extricated himself from the torrent
and clawed his way onto a marble ledge. It was surprisingly stable
although it had been shattered into a dozen pieces. The people of
Azia-Nocti certainly knew how to construct strong aqueducts—but
even they could not withstand the cruelty of gravity.

Masonry continued to orbit in the
whirlpool, but his perch remained solid and withstanding. His only
chance of traversing the body of water was to time his jumps
precisely. A single mistake could cost him more than a broken limb.
He was fairly certain the maelstrom would drag him hundreds of feet
below the city.

Margzor forged a route among ruins
dancing in the wild embrace of the maelstrom. He came to a pause,
watching a strange form thrashing in the water
.
Something
humongous was writhing below the surface, entrapped. A large,
metallic limb squirmed out of the vortex. It flailed wildly,
stabbing the water in a fever of rage.

The form soon submerged along with the
rest of the creature. Margzor watched for a moment longer. When
nothing crested the waters, he slowly approached the edge of the
platform.

He raised his head to behold remains of
the aqueducts raining down. His eyes widened as the ruins grew
increasingly in size, coming closer with every anxious flutter of
his heart. He sprang forward, narrowly avoiding the lethal
impact.

At last, his feet touched down on the
shore and he drifted into the forest. He did not regret his crimes
in Azia-Nocti, the suffering that the city would feel for years to
come. He would require many days before he could wage his holy
war.

There was no man that could stand
between him and the results he desired. He would inevitably find
pleasure and joy before anyone killed him.

He repelled the notion of his death,
knowing it would be impossible to destroy him if he eradicated the
remaining temples. He smiled to himself, but his joy was
short-lived.

His heart would never allow him a
moment of respite. As he departed into the darkness of the forest,
a notion so familiar possessed him: a philosophy he had developed
during his years of isolation, a complex interpretation of beauty,
perfection, and sexual morality.

They were the pillars of his vision, a
moral awakening that only he could ignite. He would ignite the very
soul of the world, ushering in a new era of pleasure—or
pain
, depending on how society welcomed these
changes.

He didn’t consider himself a
revolutionary, just the executioner of a plan. How strange it
seemed that he must take the lives of others to make the world a
better place. The horrendous nature of it contradicted his good
intentions.

Ideology was the driving force behind
his actions, the stimulus that set his plans in motion, a fountain
of inspiration that would never cease to nourish his wildest
fantasies. It was sheer fanaticism that could not be stifled by
threats, organized religion, or lethal force. He would gladly be
martyred for his convictions. He believed it would not come to
that… He was far too cunning for authorities and too meticulous in
his plans.

Margzor would redefine society with his
philosophy. It didn’t matter if the world was ready for these
changes or not.

* * *

Nishka departed from the former
splendor of Azia-Nocti. She had assured her father she would
succeed, no matter the odds. She would inevitably spend the next
few days thinking about how she failed her
responsibilities.

Yet, something even more unsettling
would keep her awake at night. The murders that plagued Azia-Nocti
appalled her. The guards seemed all but helpless to prevent these
atrocities, and the city-states were beyond helping each
other.

When she had learned about the crimes
in Sepulzer, she felt compelled to do something. She couldn’t abide
to see innocent people die. If there was any possible way to
prevent these disasters, she had the inner resolve to do whatever
she could.

As if he knew what she was thinking of,
Arxu calmly stated, “The slaughter has claimed the temple in
Azia-Nocti as well.”

“Someone needs to stop
this!”

“Who?”

“I’m going to do something about
it.”

“I’m obligated to protect
you.”

“Then you can help.” Arxu stood
transfixed on the sandy road, slightly confused. He observed her
departure with his customary nonchalance, but this time it was
mingled with uncertainty. With a final glance at Azia-Nocti’s
bruised façade, he turned away.

He drifted to the west, his task as her
bodyguard seemingly expended. He did not have a destination in
mind, only a general idea of where he wanted to be.

He approached the jagged mountains
protruding above the earth like a blackened spine. He would outrun
society and disappear into the desolation. He would seek seclusion
in a forgotten place, perhaps the forest by the foothills or a
lakeside cavern. As long as he did not fall victim to authorities
for a crime he could not remember committing, he would
hide.

Perhaps it was for the best that he
couldn’t remember anything. It was punishment enough that he didn’t
know who his family and friends were, where he was born, and where
he belonged.

What was this he felt? A twinge of
emotion? Regret? He had felt something when Nishka almost died,
something beyond rationale. What if he could salvage his memories?
Could he apologize to his victims or their families if they were
still alive?

Arxu shut his eyes as he soaked up the
spring breeze that tussled his hair. The wind exhaled as if to
oppose his journey to the west. He faltered in his next step,
skeptical of what lay beyond the border of Eyegad.

He looked over his shoulder at the
woman silhouetted in the distance, soon to be a memory in the back
of his mind. Nishka was fading away. The moon glistened above her
in the scarlet sky. Arxu’s footsteps ceased as though the pull of
the moon arrested him. In truth, something else called out to the
Nightwalker.

He felt inexplicably drawn to Nishka.
Further down the road, she slowed in her steps. She glimpsed a
familiar Nightwalker returning for her. She smiled at Arxu and
proceeded to the north.

Arxu followed the woman who seemed
inextricably bound to him, or rather, he felt bound to
her.

Part II:
Nympholepsy

Chapter 16

Godless Road was just as uninviting as
they remembered. However, Nishka didn’t expect bandits to interrupt
their travel today. With the addition of the chaos magician,
highwaymen hardly stood a chance against them. For a moment, she
was okay with the idea of Hrioshango journeying alongside them… or
creeping through the darkness of the canopy in a stalking
manner.

That moment did not last
long.

Hrioshango had managed to find them
again after retrieving his enchanted cloak. Nishka reluctantly
agreed to let him stay if he used his magick to store their
inventory, particularly her father’s merchandise.

She regarded Arxu, his familiar blue
eyes searching for civilization. His indifference never ceased to
amaze her. Sometimes she imagined his façade peeling away,
revealing hints of an underlying personality. He betrayed his
emotions sporadically, whether it was anxiety in the wrinkle of his
eyebrows, a quick curve of his lips, or the inflection of marvel in
his voice. Perhaps she could tease his personality out one day at a
time. Was it possible to repair a man who had been dissected from
emotion?

“Where are we going?” Hrioshango
chirped. Only a day ago, Nishka had argued against Arxu taking her
home. She insisted they continue their journey across the
city-states and sell her father’s goods. To further complicate
matters, she was intent on solving the outbreak of temple murders.
Arxu couldn’t imagine why she felt an obligation to prevent the
deaths of strangers. They would pass one of the major cities on
their way to Riverwell regardless, so Nishka suggested they detour
through the province.

“Gaelithea,” Arxu replied. The darkling
immediately cackled, a sound that did not sit well with
Arxu.

“Stop it,” Nishka said.

“Ah, but you both have no idea how
lucky you are! Gaelithea is so much better in person than the
stories allude to!”

“What stories?” Arxu asked.

“You’ll see. You will never experience
another city like this in all of your travels.”

“You’re vile, Hrioshango. I don’t plan
on lingering there for very long,” Nishka said.

“Nishka, you should keep an open mind.
Give Gaelithea a chance!” Hrioshango burst into laughter once
more.

Many crossroads and forests later, they
stood before the infamous city of Gaelithea.

Impressive walls surrounded it like the
gates to heaven or hell. One glance at the gatehouse dispelled any
first impressions of heaven.

Hundreds of pikes loomed on the
gatehouse with grisly skulls mounted upon them. Jutting from the
ground like the limbs of a skeleton were black tusks from extinct
beasts. Framed against the city walls, they were nearly as tall as
the portcullis itself.

Nishka couldn’t tear her eyes away from
the road forested with pikes and skulls. She wanted to run away and
force the gruesome images out of her mind.

Maybe they were criminals
, she
thought.
Maybe they deserved it.
They slowed to a crawl at
the foot of the portcullis. They silently studied the arrow loops
in the gatehouse. Arxu wouldn’t be surprised if more than a hundred
arrows were pointed at them, their barbed tips poised for rending.
It was simply another facet of the paranoid city-states to him. To
others blessed or
cursed
with emotions, it was a facet of
life or death.

A disembodied voice resounded from
beyond the portcullis.

“Hold your position!” Arxu signaled for
Hrioshango to stop. “Why do you near Gaelithea? Who are you?” the
voice demanded. At last, Arxu stepped forward to address the hidden
gatekeeper.

“I am Arxu and my companions are Nishka
and Hrioshango. We have ventured to Gaelithea for
trade.”

“Do you have passes to enter our city?”
Nishka and Arxu exchanged confused looks. Suddenly, their
intentions of commerce seemed feeble at best. As they teetered on
uncertainty, Hrioshango excitedly reached into his cloak. He dug
through his pockets and produced a yellowed piece of parchment
bearing an official seal.