Date: Sun, 1 May 2016 16:04:48 -0600
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: Chapter 16-The Orb of Winter-Gay Science Fiction

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				   *****

			      Chapter Sixteen

   "What have you got for me?" Mudrufamesa asked in a thick accent.
   Rather forward, but unafraid of me. Refreshing for a change, I suppose,
Skellhaundar Romax thought to himself. At six-foot-four and two-hundred
fifteen pounds, he was plenty used to people being afraid of him.
   She sat at a well-worn table whose dark polished surface bore the crusty
rings of many a pint of ale. Skellhaundar noticed an exit through the
kitchen directly behind her. As for Mudrufamesa herself, Skellhaundar
thought her the dichotomy of contrasts: her hair was dyed his favorite
white blond while her skin was black as molasses. But she spared the dye on
her eyebrows, which wasn't uncommon. The dyes and bleaches necessary to
attain that hair color often burned the skin.
   It's too bad no one has it naturally, Skellhaundar thought.
   She had the thick lips common to most Amserran women and the musculature
of a pit slave. Yet she wore a necklace of fine gold with long chains
attached to it and strung with perfect pearls. The fact she wore this in a
tavern known for its pig fights as much as for its beer made him think that
this woman might, in fact, be unafraid of nothing. A black man on her
immediate left looked to be either a bodyguard or a partner, but the way in
which he sat, straight-backed and eyes facing forward gave Skellhaundar the
impression he might be military. A scar cut through his nose, giving it a
misshapen and lopsided look and most disturbing of all: both eyes were
milky white. A turban sat on his head and he wore a somewhat threadbare red
robe, embroidered in fine gold.
   Skellhaundar moved a chair, draped his gorgeous midnight blue and black
cape carefully over the back, and took a seat. Mudrufamesa stared at him a
moment, looked under the table, and shook her head. Around them, the hubbub
of the tavern went on unabated.
   "What?" Skellhaundar asked Mudrufamesa. Before she could answer, a
tavern wench approached the table and Skellhaundar held up a finger and
said, "A pint of your finest, please."
   "As you wish," the girl said, smiling at him. She had nice dimples and
the low-cut dress she wore did a fine job at displaying a pair of big brown
tits. The girl had eyes the color of fine jade, and her hair hung long and
auburn, if a bit dirty. "Would milord need anythin' else."
   "Bring us a wedge of cheese and a trencher of soup," Skellhaundar said,
handing her a silver coin.
   "At once milord," the tavern wench said, and then she departed their
table to get what Skellhaundar ordered.
   "I was just thinking, `Why are you Timeron knights always so tall and
with such big stompy feet?'" Mudrufamesa replied.
   "Just lucky I guess," Skellhaundar said. In truth, he disliked the fact
that he wore size seventeen boots, but they served him well when crushing a
man's windpipe. He felt at his belt for a cigar, brought it to his lips and
lit it, making sure to blow smoke in copious amounts across the table. The
black man waved it out of his face, but Mudrufamesa seemed unfazed. This
gave Skellhaundar a chuckle. Whoever this woman was, she wanted him to take
her seriously. "If your information is as good as you say it is, I'll pay."
He reached into a pouch on his belt and withdrew two gold coins, placing
them on the table one at a time so that they could gleam in the light of
this sleazy tavern.
   "You said four crowns, not two," she uttered.
   "How about two now and two after you finish, provided what you tell me
is worth it," Skellhaundar replied.
   The Amserran woman reached out and took the coins, pocketing them
quickly. She scanned the room for anyone that might be watching their
dealings. It turned out, nearly everyone was. For Skellhaundar Romax,
crowds of people following his every move had long ago ceased to draw his
ire because it happened so often. He was a celebrity, and he learned
quickly not to care if anyone in major cities followed him. If they caused
him trouble, he would kill them. It didn't matter how many there were. He
once killed twenty men that thought they could ambush him on a street. His
attackers were so sloppy he refused to call it an assassination
attempt. Instead he called it a "before bed workout" and left it at that.
   "There's not much privacy here," Mudrufamesa said.
   As if to accentuate that, the tavern wench returned with a trencher of
soup, a pint of beer, a large wedge of cheese on a wooden platter, and a
fresh loaf of bread. She set it all down on the table. "Let me know if
you'll 'ave anythin' else, luv," the tavern wench said with a wink. Then
she departed.
   "Please help yourself to the bread," Skellhaundar offered. He cut the
loaf into four slices using his own dagger, and then layered one with a bit
of cheese before taking a bite. It tasted delicious.
   "Thank you, but we didn't come to eat," Mudrufamesa said.
   "Suit yourself," Skellhaundar said. He tasted the soup and was suitably
impressed. It was pork swimming in a thick broth with carrots and
potatoes. "It takes a lot of work for me to have any privacy. I'm a
Darkglory after all; the only one that's on this continent. There are only
seven others like me, and they're all in Noremost across the ocean." He
kicked back in the chair and relaxed, one leg crossed over the other. The
jingle of his cibrian spurs caught her eye. "Keep your voice low. Chances
are anything you have to tell me is already known by half a dozen people in
the city. But those half a dozen people already work for me."
   "I thought there were ten Darkglories in Taleta's church, not eight,"
Mudrufamesa replied.
   "Two are dead and haven't been replaced," Skellhaundar said. "It can
take years to find men with the right mettle to rise to the highest
calling."
   "They died in Soulwarden, didn't they?" Mudrufamesa asked.
   Skellhaundar paused a moment before taking another bite of soup. He
narrowed his eyes and looked at this mysterious woman across the table
while he chewed and swallowed. "It just so happens that they did. That you
would draw that connection is impressive. Your question leads me to believe
that you know nothing of the events that surround their deaths?"
   "I know nothing, but I suspected the events that transpired there over a
year ago would have attracted the most powerful emissaries of your
church. I'm sorry they did not survive the volcano. The city was completely
destroyed and hundreds of thousands of people perished in the lava and
ash," she said.
   "I'm not sorry," Skellhaundar said. "And they weren't the most powerful
men in our church to hold the title of Darkglory. And something tells me
that the volcano wasn't cruel to everyone. I'm sure a slave or two managed
to escape their masters in the chaos that followed. Perhaps they even made
it as far north as the shores of Zanda. Perhaps they even became business
owners with the wealth they stole from the one that purchased them."
   "Perhaps," Mudrufamesa said. "It's difficult to say what happened to all
the refugees from a place the locals affectionately called `Thorn.' We can
only hope that the events of that day held a silver lining for some."
   Skellhaundar chuckled and helped himself to another slice of bread. "We
make our own fate in life. If something has a silver lining, it's because
you wove it yourself."
   "Makila heard two girls from the school of necromancy at the Obelisk of
Quiet," Mudrufamesa said.
   "He did?" Skellhaundar asked, swallowing another bite. "That doesn't
sound too unusual. That old thing gets a lot of visitors every day, am I
right? What did you see?"
   "Makila is blind," Mudrufamesa said.
   Skellhaundar leaned forward and passed his hand in front of the black
man's face. "Interesting. And he heard this from where? Your carpet shop
across the street? Near where the slaves are sold, yes?"
   She nodded.
   Skellhaundar took a puff from his cigar. "What did you hear, Makila? I'm
all ears."
   The black man cleared his throat and Mudrufamesa said, "It's all
right. Tell him what you heard."
   "One of the girls could see the writing, and the other talked about the
Halo of Thomas. One of the girls claimed to have read the forbidden text,
the Book of Thomas," Makila said.
   Skellhaundar considered this for a while. "Is that so?" He ground his
jaw and ran his finger along the gray stubble covering his chin. "So we
have a seer in the college. That's a rare gift. But she's not the first one
that claims to be able to see through time."
   "Another girl said the words `Machlen Nocturnis.' At least that's how
she pronounced it, and they spoke at length about the story of Lianon
Pard. I think they called it `The Locket.' One of them said there was a
great dragon's graveyard where the Halo of Thomas was kept, that it could
free the Queen of Demons, and that in the sky above this graveyard was some
powerful moon called `Hurlothrumbo,'" Makila said.
   "All of this is quite interesting," Skellhaundar remarked. "But none of
it's exactly secret. In ancient tomes I keep in my office at Anghul there's
mention of the `Machlen Nocturnis.' And the published story called `The
Locket' is one of the more popular reads among Zandan bards, I think I've
even heard a musical version's in the works. That the girl has read a
forbidden book is of note, but I'll leave it to the school's administration
to ferret out such crimes. I've got other things that demand my attention,
like the oversight of young men who all want to grow up to be as powerful
and as handsome as me."
   "One of the girls touched the obelisk," Makila said, "and when that
happened, she fell down and claimed to see something. Shortly after that, I
heard a thunderclap. But at the same time, something emerged from the
obelisk and followed the two girls back to the academy."
   This intrigued Skellhaundar. He leaned in closer and asked, "How do you
know this if you're blind?"
   Makila said, "I'm blind to the world of men, but not to the world of the
unseelie court...to the realm of faerie. I saw something emerge from the
obelisk. It was small, and it had wings and claws."
   Skellhaundar said, "You spotted a shadow drake!? Here in Zanda?" It was
difficult for him to keep his voice low.
   "Is that worth the other two gold?" Mudrufamesa asked.
   "Yes," Skellhaundar said, nodding. "It's worth a few more than that." He
handed her five yellow coins, and she scooped them up greedily. "Is there
anything else?"
   The woman shook her head no.
   "You go by `Mudrufamesa?'" Skellhaundar asked.
   "I prefer just `Famesa,' your lordship," she said, smiling.
   "Well then, Famesa, if you `see' or `hear' anything else, please get in
contact with me. A shadow drake hasn't been seen in any of the lands for
centuries. This could be very important, but I'll have to check with
someone I can trust to be sure."
   Skellhaundar took another bite of soup and swallowed some beer. Famesa
and Makila decided to try the bread too and she cut two slices for them
using her own knife. However, at that time a great roar sounded in the
street, and many people cried out and fled before something terrible that
headed their direction. Skellhaundar watched men and women, who in their
haste to avoid whatever was coming, dropped baskets of fish and fresh
vegetables to scoop up children and run. It piqued Skellhaundar's interest.
   Outside the doors of the tavern, six Blades Acuuarum soldiers ran by,
pikes and swords at the ready. Two threw spears at whatever it was beyond
the large window, and Skellhaundar heard a loud bellow and the snapped
hafts of those weapons went flying into buildings on both sides of the
narrow street.
   The Darkglory stood carefully, finishing off his pint of beer, while
tavern patrons pushed passed to squeeze through the door that led to the
kitchen and into an alley out back. The frightened tavern wench that had
flirted with him only a few minutes before now ducked behind the bar with a
cleaver in hand. Three large pigs nearly bowled Skellhaundar over as he
made his way to the front of the tavern to peer outside. That's when one of
the Blades Acuuarum soldiers he'd spotted earlier came flying through the
window, blood spewing from a severed leg, and his skull so caved in that
Skellhaundar couldn't even recognize what race he belonged to. Just beyond
the shattered mullions of the great window, Skellhaundar watched as the
remaining soldiers of the Acuuarum tried to take down a massive Abaddon
demon. The thing stood upon legs as wide as tree trunks, and had iron
spikes for nails on its eighteen toes. Upon its back were two huge leathery
wings and a column of flesh for a head with twelve different faces (three
to a side) facing in three different directions. The top of its head bore
two horns, and they pointed the same direction as its feet. Each face had a
huge mouth filled with pointed teeth, and a pig snout for a nose, and
overly large round eyes that never blinked. A great shaggy beard concealed
its neck all the way around, and it had twelve arms, six on the left and on
the right. In half of those arms, the Abaddon held a red scimitar easily
half the length of a full grown man.
   The Abaddon swung one of those scimitars, cleaving one of the militiamen
in half. It seized his body as it fell and thrust the bloody flesh into one
of its gaping maws. The crunch of bone and skin echoed off the walls of the
buildings around them.
   "Puny warriors, I will feast upon your souls!" the Abaddon yelled.
   The other Blades Acuuarum soldiers raced forward with their weapons, and
the demon cut them down one at a time, even as it ate. It beheaded one of
the soldiers, cut through the weapons of a second and third, and then
grabbed a hold of a fourth and tore his arms from the sockets before
cleaving him into bite-sized pieces with the scimitars it wielded.
   "Bow before me, for I am death bringer of war," the Abaddon said from at
least three of its mouths.
   The layering effect of the voices one atop another is rather chilling,
Skellhaundar admitted. But enough is enough. He'd heard of this thing, and
seeing as the local militia was unable to take care of it, Skellhaundar
decided he'd take the time and end this scourge on all Zandans now.
   He strode out into the middle of the street right as the Abaddon felled
the last of the Blades Acuuarum soldiers. The huge fat demon grabbed a hold
of this hapless young man's headless body and sucked blood from it like a
man would suck water from a flask.
   At the top of the street more soldiers arrived but Skellhaundar held up
his armored gauntlet motioning them to stop and stay there. And as they
stopped, a crowd gathered to watch the spectacle unfold.
   Skellhaundar drew his cibrian sword and pointed it at the Abaddon. It
shimmered rainbow-colored in the midday light, his razor cape swirled about
his huge feet. Skellhaundar stood at full height popping his back and
stretching his broad shoulders for the coming fight. His black armor
gleamed, but it was the tabard to the Queen of Demons that caught
everyone's eye. It featured an eclipsed sun and a black star surrounded in
a halo of blood. Beneath it, shadows that looked like demons cavorted in a
twisted reverie around a pile of bones. Here was a soldier that needed no
introduction, and the jingle of his spurs echoed from the walls of the
street because every single onlooker held their breath in anticipation of
events yet to unfold.
   The Abaddon tossed the remains of the corpse whose blood it just drank
through a shop window to its immediate right. Then it let loose a scream
with all of its mouths, and it sounded as loud as it was incoherent for
each seemed capable of a slightly different pitch. Then the Abaddon laughed
heartily and declared, "How dare you challenge me, Gulka of the Nine
Hells?! I will rip you to pieces foolish mortal!"
   "My patron is your Queen. I give you but this one chance to flee into
the darkness. If you face me, I shall banish you from this plane for a
thousand years. Do not be so foolish to raise weapons against I,
Skellhaundar Romax, Darkglory of the Night's Daughter."
   The Abaddon waded forward, the pannus of its belly hidden behind a wide
belt from which dangled several human heads, many of which were in various
stages of rot. Each had been attached to the belt by their hair, and they
swayed back and forth as it walked, sometimes clacking into each other with
a dull "thud."
   As it neared, its long shadow fell across Skellhaundar like the moon
sometimes eclipses the sun, and the Timeron knight tightened his grip both
on his shield and on his sword. As for Gulka, it wasted no time, filled
with confidence that it would add one more trophy to its belt. A stench of
rotting meat hit Skellhaundar a few seconds before the first whistles of
its red scimitars cut through the air. The nimble knight, saw the move
coming both on the right and on the left. He blocked two scimitars with his
shield and parried the other two with his sword. The din of their fight
broke windows atop the double story tavern where Skellhaundar had just
dined.
   The demon planted its feet firmly swinging its weapons back and forth,
sometimes stabbing; sometimes slashing. Skellhaundar's shield fell apart
from a vicious attack that drove the knight back six steps, making the
crowd let out a collective gasp.
   "Stomp! Stomp!" Gulka's feet shook the ground as he walked.
   Skellhaundar used his sword to seize hidden hooks on the inside of his
cape and swung it around to catch the air like a spinning umbrella. The
lift he generated helped propel him over two scimitars aimed at his
knees. Skellhaundar, whirling like a top, used the edge of his cape to
slice off one of the demon's arms, and the cibrian ribbon did so with
hardly any effort. The massive appendage, still gripping a sword, fell
twitching with a dull thud onto the cobblestone street.
   Black blood spewed out, and the demon (now enraged) doubled its assault
at the Timeron general. "I'll tear you apart, meat sac!" it screamed at
him.
   Skellhaundar ducked a blade aimed at his neck, jumped over another, and
then (much to the demon's surprise), the incredibly strong Timeron knight
caught one of the demon's massive fists in his corobidian glove. The
strength in Skellhaundar's arm belied his size, and the clash of the
powerful warrior and the Abaddon demon created a thunderclap heard over
several blocks.
   Stunned, Gulka stared at how Skellhaundar had stopped him from
advancing. Then quick as a cobra strike, the Timeron knight cut off that
arm right at the shoulder with one deft blow from his cibrian sword. The
demon howled in pain as yet another amputated limb showered the area with
his smoking blood.
   Skellhaundar leapt over two swords and caught the air with his cape,
then he danced high enough to cut out a pair of eyes on Gulka's cylinder of
heads. Because of a waterfall of blood that fell across its faces, Gulka
was now completely blind on one side, and it swung this way and that just
trying to swat the ever-elusive Timeron knight. Skellhaundar ducked,
parried, then stepped in to cut another limb off, stepped out to avoid
getting grappled, and then hamstrung the giant demon. As it fell,
Skellhaundar whirled out of the way managing to knock one of its last
scimitars from one of its remaining hands.
   Limping forward, the Abaddon was really at the mercy of Skellhaundar now
who used his cape to get enough lift that it propelled him up and out of
the demon's reach. He landed, caught a back swing with the edge of his
blade and then cut through the demon's beard to get at Gulka's massive
neck. Its tower of triple faces fell with the soft "plop" bruised fruit
sometimes makes, and then Skellhaundar drove his longsword through the back
of the demon until it pierced the Abaddon's giant beating heart. Blood
sprayed upward in a cone as the great mound of flesh toppled forward to lay
still in the street, scimitars clattering over the stones.
   Skellhaundar put both boots on the thing's back and pulled his sword
free, wiping it clean on the demon's beard before sheathing it.
   The crowd around him cheered, but none of that was important to
Skellhaundar. He looked into the tavern at where Famesa and Makila sat in
awe, and then started on his way to the harbor where he could catch a ship
to take him across the bay to the Keep of Anghul and hopefully arrive in
time to teach his class of squires.
   I do hate to be late, he thought.
   At the top of the hill, he did stop to look at the ten Blades Acuuarum
soldiers that had stopped to watch the battle.
   "Make sure that gets cleaned up, or it will foul the area as it
rots. Demon flesh poisons everything it touches when it decomposes. Also,"
he said, grabbing a young man with coffee-colored skin by the arm. The
man's face darkened with pain, and Skellhaundar relaxed his grip some. What
a reprehensible weakling of a man, Skellhaundar thought, but he knew better
than to voice his inner monologue. "Sorry...get a necromancer down here
from the academy. Have them find out who was responsible for summoning this
thing. Send word to my office at the Keep of Anghul as soon as you get a
name."
   "Yes, milord," the soldier said.
   "Your name is?"
   "Dudley, milord," the man said.
   Then Skellhaundar let him go and the crowd parted silently before him as
he made his way to the ship, spurs jingling every time he set a foot down
on the cobblestone road.

				   *****

Chapter Thirty through Thirty-Six are now available to read at
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label
"The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.

Are there any artists out there willing to draw some pics for my story? If
so, please email me.  There is an "Orb of Winter" map now in both the NEWS
section of my website and in the FORUMS of my website.

If you go to my website directly from this posting, you will want to begin
with "CHAPTER ELEVEN" in the forums (after the asterix as I split the
chapter in two).