Mendeln noted the “we” and somehow felt it did not include Rathma. Were there others like Trago’Oul? Was that possible?
But the celestial beast said no more on the subject and Mendeln knew that, if he asked such questions, Trag’Oul would not answer him. Still, some of what the dragon had said just prior gave him hope again.
“Then, there is truly a chance for Sanctuary to be more than what they would have of it…” Mendeln clutched the dagger, which felt so right in his hand. It was not a weapon—although it could easily be used as such—but one key toward freeing Humanity’s destiny from the angels’ and demons’ perpetual war.
However, that was only if he and Uldyssian managed to somehow help prevent Lilith and the mysterious Inarius from succeeding with their own plots.
The angel bothered him most. “This Inarius…Rathma’s father…what does he do now?”
For the first time, Trag’Oul radiated uncertainty. Lilith is a creature of many plots and although difficult to always ferret out, her mark is generally quite noticeable. Inarius, on the other hand, plays the game more subtly. It may be that we are already destined to fail against him, for he may have moved to defeat her and us simultaneously. Rathma can judge him better, but even he is uncertain as to how well…
Which was a lengthy way to tell Mendeln that the angel was as much an enigma to his mentors as he was to the human. “But we know he acts as the Prophet, whose face stands unveiled for all to see! Surely, we can calculate his actions thus—”
Inarius stands utterly veiled even surrounded by a multitude of eyes. What is seen of the Prophet is never necessarily what he is, even more so than the Primus, who has been not one but at least three…
And here he brought up another point that had troubled Mendeln even before Rathma had whisked him away. “The demon Lucion was the Primus and he is no more. It is Lilith who wears that mask, surely.”
But would Lilith have created such chaos in Hashir?
She would not have and Mendeln knew that. He had wondered at what had seemed irrational even for the demoness.
“Another commands?” Uldyssian’s brother finally asked. “Another demon? That could work in our favor! If even indirectly this third interferes with her plots—”
It does not…in fact…it has accelerated it.
That did not bode well. With both him and Uldyssian gone, that left only Serenthia to watch for the demoness. Still, in many ways, Cyrus’s daughter was likely far more capable than Mendeln. “Serenthia will guide the edyrem. They trust her. They will follow her in all things—”
The stars yet again shifted, then resettled. Mendeln had learned quickly that this was a sign of the dragon’s displeasure. Yes…they will heed the commands of your companion in the absence of your brother…and thus become Lilith’s more and more…
Mendeln let out a growl of frustration. “What are you not telling me? What is it you know?”
There was an unusual hesitation…and then Trag’Oul replied, Uldyssian’s edyrem believe that they follow your friend, but in doing so, they actually follow the demoness.
“Follow—no!”
Yes…it is Serenthia of Seram that they see before them, but she is in truth Lilith and has been so since some days ago as Sanctuary counts time…
“Serenthia…” Mendeln fell down on one knee, so struck was he by the news. His mind raced back to Partha and Malic, who had worn the skin of another. “No…Serenthia…no…it cannot be…”
The skin of another…Lilith wearing Serenthia’s skin… Hashir might have been far smaller than Toraja, but the mark the edyrem left upon it—especially within the temple—far exceeded what they had done in the first city. The temple still stood, but it was awash in blood. The high priests had been made special victims, their bodies now hanging from the ruined pillars standing at the building’s front. The power of the edyrem had allowed bolts a foot long to drive into the thick marble… after going through the soft flesh first.
Each of the priests had their arms held directly over their heads. The metal bolts had pierced the back of the hands, which had been first clasped together. Bolts had also been driven through the throats and torsos.
The suggestion for such a visual display had come from the woman now leading the edyrem. The priests had stolen away Uldyssian, Serenthia had vehemently claimed, and one by one they would be hung so until some voice among those remaining revealed where he was.
But all the priests perished, each swearing that they did not know what had happened to the mob’s leader. Serenthia had seized upon that to further scour the area for supporters of the sect, especially among city leaders.
Three days after Uldyssian and his followers entered the city, Hashir was, in many ways, little more than a scar.
The populace hid while this happened, fearful of both the temple and the newcomers. However, on the fourth day, Serenthia—her long hair flowing wildly in the wind—went to the market center and proclaimed in a voice that echoed throughout the city that she had now brought peace and hope to Hashir. This was naturally met with some wariness on the part of the locals, but the edyrem ushered many out of their homes so that they could see that she spoke the truth.
To her captive audience, Serenthia offered the same as Uldyssian, but not immediately. The Hashiri had witnessed the might of the foreigners and so not a few were tempted. Yet, Serenthia did not show even those the way, although she among all the edyrem should have been able to do so.
Instead, in the very temple they had conquered and even as the bodies of the priests fed some of the local birds, good Romus found himself summoned for an audience with the master’s first acolyte. He had no idea what Serenthia wanted of him, save that, if Uldyssian were no more—as was the rumor vilely spreading through the ranks—then she was their only hope of not only continuing on, but even merely surviving.
Serenthia had taken for her temporary quarters those of the local high priest. Romus, who had always been poor even when he had been a brigand, could only marvel at the silken wall coverings and goldlaced tapestries as he entered. Some of the regret that he had had for the harshness of the edyrem’s actions in Hashir faded as he considered the Triune’s massive, ill-gotten wealth.
A moment later, he stopped short. Serenthia lay stretched across a reclining couch, her gaze on a parchment in her hands. Her long, lush hair cascaded down her shoulders and even enshrouded part of her face. She was a breathtaking sight to behold even in her battle-worn garments, especially to Romus, who had been infatuated by Serenthia almost since the first he had seen her in the Parthan square.
He finally managed to clear his throat, which made her immediately glance up.
“Romus!” The smile that lit up her face kindled the fire in his heart. Had Serenthia asked him to singlehandedly fight a pack of the savage creatures called morlu, he would have willingly leapt into the fray. “I feared you wouldn’t come!”
“How could I not, mistress? Anytime, for anything, all you need do is call and faithful Romus will rush to obey…”
She sat up. “How poetic! But come! Why are you standing all the way over there by the doorway?” Serenthia patted the couch. “Join me here!”
Bowing low, he hastened to approach. At the couch itself, the onetime thief hesitated, but again Serenthia smiled and patted it.
He seated himself, leaving a respectful space between them. Romus looked at his mistress and immediately found his gaze captivated by her glittering green eyes. A small part of him vaguely wondered why he had once thought them blue. Surely, he could not have been so mistaken…
“Romus…you were one of those closest to Uldyssian besides myself.”