The dying boy looked up at the looming figure. As with all Torajians, to Uldyssian the whites of Jezran’s eyes seemed much brighter and more vivid. He knew that the illusion was due to the latter’s dark skin, but still found the sight arresting.
Jezran managed a sickly smile. He opened his mouth…then died. Uldyssian swore, knowing that the wounded youth had already been beyond even his skills.
But the others might not be. Realizing this, Uldyssian gently set Jezran’s head down, then spun to the next victim, immediately placing his palm against the Torajian’s forehead.
The man let out a gasp. With an unsettling sound, the vicious stars popped out of the wounds…which then sealed. The Torajian grinned gratefully.
Uldyssian did the same for the third victim, a woman, then glanced bitterly at Jezran’s corpse. Two alive, but one dead. So much for my vaunted gift…
“He holds no anger against you,” said Mendeln from behind Uldyssian, his sibling’s voice utterly calm even in the midst of calamity, “and now better understands the truth concerning everything than either of us.”
Mendeln was slighter of stature than his elder brother and had always been more studious. Although he had accepted from Uldyssian the same touch as the rest of the converts, in Mendeln, something different appeared to have happened. Uldyssian could sense none of the same force flowing through his sole remaining sibling as through him; instead, there was a shadow growing within Mendeln, yet one that Uldyssian could not say originated from anything evil.
However, neither could he say that it had been spawned by anything good.
Staring into his brother’s penetrating black eyes, Uldyssian snarled, “I only understand that he and so many others are dead…but whether it’s more my fault or the Triune’s, I doubt I’ll ever decide.”
“That was not to what I was referring—” But Mendeln got no further. Uldyssian shoved past the black-robed figure and resumed his trek into the temple. The others followed at his heels, ever leaving around Uldyssian’s brother a gap akin to that which they made for their leader. However, in Mendeln’s case, of late it was as much out of an unwillingness to be near the sallow figure as it was respect for his place. Even the untouched could detect the oddness of the younger son of Diomedes.
“I’ve shown you the gift,” Uldyssian declared to those behind him, while at the same time mentally seeking out hidden dangers ahead. “Remember to use it. It’s your life. It’s you.”
At that moment, he sensed them coming. A chill ran down his spine and he prayed that his people had listened…or else many more were about to perish terribly.
He turned to face the path ahead again. The vast chamber in which they stood was the central gathering place for the faithful before the sermons of the three orders began. Towering statues of the Triune’s guiding spirits stood watch over the separate entryways leading to where each of the orders met. They were robed, ethereal beings with only vague countenances. Bala on the left, with its hammer and the bag containing the seeds of all life. Dialon on the right, bearing at its breast the Tablets of Order.
Mefis in the middle…always Mefis…carrying nothing but cupping its hands as if about to gently receive an innocent baby.
A baby to be slaughtered, Uldyssian always imagined.
And with such an image burning in his mind, he thrust out a warning hand to the rest just as all three doors opened and the grotesque, bestial figures in ebony armor came rushing forth. They screamed their bloodlust as they waved their weapons high, and although there were far fewer of them than the invaders, they were no less daunting, especially to Uldyssian, who knew of them best. There was that about them that did not speak of mortal flesh anymore, but rather something long overdue for the grave. Uldyssian sensed the sudden dismay among his followers and knew that he had to show them that, while sinister, the morlu were not indestructible.
But before he could strike, a brilliant, blinding light flared before his eyes. Letting out a cry, Uldyssian staggered into one of those just behind him. Once more, in his concern for the others, he had overestimated himself. He should have expected the priests to have something cunning yet planned in conjunction with this new attack.
A pair of hands dragged Uldyssian out of the way just as a heavy form collided with his right side. Uldyssian spun around, then tumbled to the floor.
As he fought to clear his vision, horrific cries rose all around. The terrifying sound of crunching bone sent renewed chills through him. He heard a deep-throated laugh and recognized the demonic voice of a morlu savoring the carnage he caused.
Uldyssian had not expected to find any of the Triune’s ghoulish servants in Toraja. He had assumed that their kind was for the most part relegated to the vast temple near the capital and that those who had followed Malic had been exceptions sent out due to the Primus’s interest in the son of Diomedes. Now Uldyssian wondered if each of the temples had its own contingent, which boded ill. That meant far more morlu than he could have ever imagined existing…
His eyes began to focus. It infuriated Uldyssian that for some reason he could not speed up the process. Too slowly, shapes began to coalesce.
And one of those shapes—filling his gaze—was a morlu reaching for him.
For his bulk, the armored figure moved astonishingly swift. He seized Uldyssian by the collar and dragged his prey up to eye level.
Black pits were all that existed physically of the morlu’s eyes, yet Uldyssian knew that they saw him better than any mortal orbs. He had witnessed enough during the bitter struggle in Master Ethon’s home to understand just how malevolent and powerful were the forces that animated the ebonyhelmed fighters.
“You…are the one…” his assailant grunted in that voice that could not quite pass for that of anything living. “The one…”
Steeling himself, Uldyssian concentrated—but again a brilliant light flared before his eyes. Once more, he was completely blinded.
The morlu laughed harder—and then let out a peculiar grunt. He released his hold on the unseeing Uldyssian, who just managed to keep from falling and cracking his skull on the floor.
Shaking his head, Uldyssian focused his every effort on seeing. The world came into focus once more…and there he beheld Serenthia, a spear gripped tight in her hands, skewering the morlu as if he wore no armor nor weighed an ounce. The spear blazed silver and Serenthia’s black hair fluttered as if alive. Her blue eyes, always radiant, now burned with utter determination. Her normally ivory skin was flushed and her red lips were twisted in grim satisfaction. Uldyssian did not doubt that she imagined Achilios’s death as she drove the spear deeper into the twitching, armored figure. She had only just before Achilios’s murder come to love the hunter after years of seeking Uldyssian’s favor, knowledge that still filled him with shame.
One of the very first to accept Uldyssian’s gift, Serenthia was now also among those most proficient in drawing it forth. Again, Uldyssian knew that much of that ability had to do with her loss, but even he was astonished by her amazing effort now.
The morlu clawed desperately at her, the hungry grin now replaced by something approaching fear. The spear allowed Serenthia to hold him at bay.
She looked anything but the daughter of a country merchant now. Her simple cloth blouse and skirt had given way to the wrapped, colorful dress of a Torajian woman. Indeed, with her long, sleek raven hair, she looked as if she carried some of their blood in her. The dress was designed to flow loose at the legs, and instead of boots, Serenthia also wore the strapped sandals more common to the people here.
The morlu shook violently, his massive form abruptly beginning to shrivel. Within the space of a breath, he looked even more late for the grave, only his wrinkled white skin now enshrouding his bones. Yet, still Serenthia kept him impaled. Her expression took on an unsettling eagerness…