Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2016 17:53:37 -0600 From: Michael Offutt Subject: Chapter 10-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able to do so. MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html My email: kavrik@hotmail.com Pictures of the characters in this story: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html Full story chapters and discussion: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html For those of you who can't wait for new chapters, please visit my forum where I'm a couple weeks ahead. The chapters are bigger there than they are on Nifty. To see for yourself please go to http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html and find the folder that says "The Orb of Winter" and then open that up to view the chapters. Please note that the chapter order here will differ from my forum because I cut the chapters into smaller chunks for Nifty's audience. Also, if you aren't on my mailing list and want to be, please shoot me an email. Please check out my books on my website. ***** Chapter Ten The council room of the Dreaded Irtemara in the Basilica of Zanda now resembled something more to Kahket's liking. Artisans from the Gift (a district in the Holy City known for its fine shops, painters, and metal-workers) had recently finished redoing it to her specifications. Now ambassadors presenting before the ruling council would be greeted with many bas-relief decorations, painted plaster, and exposed brick. The great doors to the hall bore two paintings: the one on the right was of a bull lammasu, the one on the left depicted a lion and bull hunt. Once inside, visitors would see several murals. The one she favored most was a religious scenes depicting herself attended to hand and foot by divine servants. Directly opposite was another of the fierce god of chaos and illusion, Zandine, surrounded in a blazing violet nimbus that was a symbol of his power. Zandine himself sat astride a giant bronze bull and laid waste to his enemies with a host of minotaurs, demons, and men at his command. "And so we come to the final business of the day," Calisto Blackmoor said out loud, recalling Kahket's attention to the manners of state. "Send in Prince Vampyr," he ordered. A pair of Timeron knights standing at attention on either side of the entry saluted Calisto. Kahket thought both men to be of high quality, an opinion reflected in the platinum spurs they wore. The presence of that rare metal meant these young, muscular soldiers belonged to Calisto's personal guard—a rank of great distinction second only to the rank of "Darkglory." Kahket, of course, said nothing. She spoke only when needed. I am a queen after all, she thought. Her fingers gently stroked the brush she'd used only moments earlier to comb her lustrous ebony hair. She tapped on the rosewood handle and considered the giant undead knight with visible disgust. Glowing red pupils, little more than pinpoints really, drowned in a sea of unholy blue light. Calisto's eyes, she thought. If you can call them that. They are so unlike the eyes of living men. So cold, so dead, and so hideous to behold. But the necromantic power that went into making this monster, now that IS something. Someday, Calisto, I will kill you by draining all the necromantic power out of you myself, Kahket mused. I will no longer have to feed from necromancers beyond that day. I will be truly immortal. A general of the Queen of Demons, Calisto's Timeron knight armor should have been spectacular. I love a man in plate, she thought while staring at his platinum guards near the entrance of the room. They wear such beautiful cloaks, such gorgeous boots. But Ser Blackmoor's full plate regalia managed to be both magnificent and repulsive at the same time. Maggots crawled over his breastplate and fell from his gauntlets. He had a smell about him that stunk of the grave. After each meeting Kahket had her servants destroy the chair in which he sat. The boots on his gargantuan feet left a trail of putrid goo behind wherever he walked, and between his legs hung the most dreadful codpiece...no more than a hammered bowl with indentations for nuts the diameter of small oranges. Dense mats of lice-riddled fur sprung forth around the edges, as if he rammed it on after sodomizing some boy to death. Calisto's shield leaned against a chair, battered and scratched from years (if not centuries) of use. Across his back a huge claymore with a four-foot blade lay strapped to his spine with leather cords. She'd seen him use it to behead thirty prisoners in a single day, and the pommel looked stained in old blood. In contrast, his attendant guard were meticulously cleaned and well-groomed, their weapons and armor spotless. Calisto, why are you such a slob? Is being undead so challenging? Is there no necromancer that could help you with the body rot? She asked herself. The Timeron knights opened the doors, "Your guest has arrived, Dreaded Irtemara." "Please," a soprano voice said, "Call me Dr. Vampyr...after my maker who trained me." Kahket looked with renewed interest. A prince of hell similar in power to her own Ravidan (whom she dearly missed), Vampyr's entreaty to come and serve at her side was an offer she could not refuse. But a new Ravidan the Anatomica of Chagidiel was not. Here appeared an absurdly tall and waspishly thin man, and he sauntered down the center carpet toward their table with the gait of a baboon. His overly long and narrow face squatted atop a neck so thin, she wondered at how it did not snap from the weight of it. If Calisto was ugly, this man was horrifying. Gangly in every sense of the word, his long arms threatened to drag upon the carpet, and his limbs had been pierced through with black nails. The lower part of his face showed bone, teeth and gums exposed because the lips and surrounding tissue had been cut away. He possessed no eyelids and no nose, so the stare he gave her unsettled her more than the many cuts that had been stitched closed across his chest. He wore a blood-stained white lab coat, parted in the middle, and dirty leather trousers tucked into black galoshes. On his hands she spotted black rubber gloves. "Dreaded Irtemara," Vampyr breathed heavily, bowing at the waist. "General. It is so pleasing to be at last in your presence." "You are of the first hierarchy?" Kahket asked. "I am, your highness," Vampyr said with a peculiar lisp and a grand genuflection. "I am new to this world, unleashed by the Anatomica of Chagidiel who now rules Than Jarat across the sea...in the Kingdom of Tar-Meneldur, I believe." "The Anatomica has been busy," Calisto said. "Your title is doctor; it belonged to your maker?" "Yes," the demon said. "I honor the man who brought me into this world: a surgeon of great vision who went by the name Talisac. The Anatomica let me rip his soul apart. The memories of his sexual misdeeds are like candy in my mind. Do not be afraid, for yes I am more powerful than you both. But nothing surpasses the might of a true god, and I know your husband is close and would send me back to Hell were I to raise a hand against you, Dreaded Irtemara. If you will have me and my services, I will gladly work for Zandine in the Librarium Apocalypto. I am skilled as a torturer and crafter of flesh, and I enjoy the taste of men. I will obey you utterly." "Good," Kahket said. "I have need of your services." "You have but to say the words, oh lovely one. Might I say, I can smell your child from here. The godling is restless in his mother's womb. When you are ready, might I assist you as a doula? I love the taste of afterbirth, and yours promises to be a special delicacy." Vampyr finished by smacking his lips. Kahket thrummed her fingers on the expensive silk that covered her belly. "I'll think about it. Tell me, Vampyr, can you make someone talk? I have a prisoner in the dungeon. His name is Beryl Loftcrag, and he's a high-ranking priest in the church of Thomas." "Ah," Vampyr said, "The god of war, wolves, and winter. I hate him already. What has this cleric done that he should require my expertise?" "It's what he hasn't done," Calisto interrupted. "He withholds information from us regarding the location of the Orb of Winter. We want to know where it's being kept." "Ah," Vampyr said, "May I ask what exactly the Orb of Winter is and why you need to acquire it?" Kahket cleared her throat. "General, if I may?" The death knight nodded for her to inform the Anatomica of Chagidiel of all she knew. "In the First Age of man, it is said the world had four suns and not three. One of the suns was destroyed by Arioch for he and the other gods needed its energy to chain Taleta in the lowest level of the nine hells." Kahket noticed when she said the name "Arioch" that the Anatomica of Chagidiel winced. "Something wrong?" she asked. "It's just...we do not say his name," Vampyr answered as politely as he could. "With the lack of sunlight, the world plunged into an Ice Age. Even the great River Magan froze solid. The gods turned to Thomas and asked him to rein in winter. He consented and gathered up all the excess cold in the world and bound it within a sphere of glass, even bequeathing the control of winter unto the orb itself. Because of his sacrifice the seasons returned to normal, and Thomas is now the god of winter in name only. But anyone that finds the orb will have all of that divine power at their disposal. In my hands, the people of Zanda could finally triumph over our enemies. Any land that dared to oppose our laws and submit to the yoke of a Zandan overseer would have no growing season, their harbors would choke with ice, and their soldiers would freeze to death. It is of vital importance that we find it, for the Valion knight armies thwart our colonial expansion at every turn." "I see," Vampyr said. "I shall get to work at once." The doctor produced a scalpel that gleamed in the light. "Do I have your permission to do anything I desire to the priest if it renders the information you seek?" "You do," Calisto said. "Ah, and it means nothing if in these ministrations there is nothing left of him worth salvaging?" Vampyr asked. Kahket smiled. "Get us the information, doctor. What befalls this priest is of no care to us. But we will have the secrets about the Orb of Winter, one way or another." Vampyr bowed. "Then I take my leave of you," he said. He whirled on his heels and the knights opened the door for him. Kahket gripped the arm rests of her velvet chair to push herself up when a shadow pulled itself from the wall and swept across the floor. "Mistress," the darkness said to her, "I have word from the minotaur Tomoluk." The patch of black straightened into a two-dimensional thing and managed to form two eyes and a mouth. However, what caught her eye were its foot long fingers, each ending in wicked-looking nails. These rested on small hands that grew from the end of six-foot long arms. She turned her head to look directly into this patch of animated darkness. "I'm listening." "He has killed the Black Dragon Assassin known as Hunter, and he will soon bring the Crimson Guard to us. All is going as planned. We will have priest and champion of the entire Loftcrag house. Does this please you?" "It does. Go and tell Dr. Vampyr these details. It may come in useful to him during his interrogation of our prisoner. Also bring me Cirumoghel, the Nevrenachtur Lord. I want him to assist with Ser Ephram Skye's capture once he's on our side of the wall. I take nothing to chance." "Mistress," the shadow demon said, "I'm afraid of the Anatomica of Chagidiel. He's a very powerful demon and could destroy me without so much as a second thought." Kahket's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do as I command. No harm will come to you as even the Anatomica of Chagidiel fears the wrath of my husband." "You are so correct, mistress," the shadow demon said. "None is as mighty as Zandine." Calisto snorted and a few maggots pelted the floor. Kahket looked at the undead Timeron knight with a sneer of contempt. "You wish to add something?" she asked the death knight. "Not anything that you don't already know. There is none mightier than Taleta, Queen of all Demons," Calisto said. Kahket couldn't help but notice how the general polished his goddess's holy symbol with the tail end of his moldy cape. "The last time I checked, Taleta was a prisoner in hell as she has been for millennia," Kahket said. "Times will change," Calisto stated. "The age of her freedom is at hand. Careful with your blasphemies, Dread Irtemara, or she may not welcome you to her side when at last she walks the land." "Are you finished?" Kahket asked him. "Quite," Calisto replied. He gathered up his belongings and headed for the door. "If you need me, I'll be at the Arena of the Flayed Man helping Skellhaundar Romax pick our next Timeron knight. Giving some young men the spurs they've earned can be a real pleasure." When the arrogant death knight left with his personal guard, Kahket withdrew a jeweled dagger from a belt at her waist and slammed it into the oak table they used for their meetings. This made several of the servants in the room jump in surprise. "Something vexes thee?" the shadow demon asked. "No," she replied, tightening her grip. "If you have nothing left to report, then you have your orders. I suggest you get busy." The shadow demon left immediately. There will come a day, Calisto, when you won't be able to speak to me like that, Kahket thought. There will be a day when I end you and the necromancy that powers your body in death. On that day, I'll remind you that Zandine is the most powerful of the gods and shortly afterward, your bones will be but dust beneath my feet. ***** Thanks so much for reading. As usual, there's more on my website at http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label "The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead. I'm putting up quite a few whole chapters as an Easter present. Please let me know if you like the story and why.