Scales of the Serpent

5

He was cold. Even in the steaming jungle, he was cold. In fact, he was never warm anymore except when near them…or perhaps her. Yes, he thought it was likely her. Who else could it be?

It had been a risk, taking such action, but the Peace Warder might have otherwise escaped. Whether that counted for something, his dulled mind could not say, but he had decided it was best not to take a chance. An arrow through the neck had done the trick.

But now he had to move away as quickly as possible from the others. He dared not be seen. They would identify him as a threat…and he was not so certain that they were wrong.

The bow slung over his shoulder, the figure pushed through the thick plant life. Now and then, when he was forced to lean against a trunk, he left in his wake fragmented handprints of dirt. Soft, moist dirt. It seemed no matter how much he tried to wipe his hands clean, there was always more.

He suddenly tensed, aware that he was no longer alone. Something large but lithe slipped through the jungle, aware of his own movement even though he had thought his steps silent. One hand slowly went for the bow—

A savage, feline countenance with two long saber teeth thrust through the brush ahead. The jungle cat snarled.

But just as quickly, the snarl turned into a hiss. The beast recoiled.

He lowered his hand. He should have known that there would be no danger. Like all animals, the cat could sense the wrongness of him.

As much out of disgust for himself as it was impatience to end this little farce, he took a step toward the great feline. The cat immediately retreated an equal distance, spitting as it moved.

“I have no…time…for you…” It was the first words he had spoken in days and the croaking sound of it repelled him as much as it seemed to the animal. Without any more pretense, the massive cat spun around and fled, his tail between his legs.

The bowman stood there for a moment longer, drinking in the creature’s reaction. It only verified his own thoughts of what would have happened if anyone had seen him.

But he had to stay near. Not only because he wanted to, but because something compelled him. Even now, the urge to turn about grew stronger. It would not be too much more before he would have to turn back. He could even count the number of steps left, but still he knew that he would try his best to add just one. An innate stubbornness demanded that much independence of him.

The cat was long gone. Shoving aside a broad leaf the size of his head, he moved on.

Behind him, on the leaf, he left yet another dirty print. It took well into the morning to deal with all the new converts, but despite his promise, Uldyssian refused to leave until everyone understood just what it was he had awakened in them. That did not mean that they would be able to wield any power, but at least there was a chance that it might somehow serve them should danger rear its head…which he felt it would soon enough. Fortunately, other followers, especially the Parthans—who had been able to practice longer—would be constantly trying to encourage their Torajian brethren.

“Nephalem” had been Lilith’s word for what they were becoming, but that word not only left a bitter taste in Uldyssian’s mouth, but also did not fit right…at least where he was concerned. From the Torajians, he had come across another title, an ancient one that even sounded a little like the first.

“Edyrem.” It meant “those who have seen” and to Uldyssian that was a perfect description of him and the rest. He had already used it this very morning and seen how easily it slipped off the tongue. Already, many were using the term rather than the old one…

They left the vicinity of the city the moment he was done. Despite the sun being high in the sky, it seemed almost like dusk. The foliage was so thick that the light came for the most part in minute shafts. That was not entirely undesirable, for the jungle already sweltered. The Torajians did not mind it so much, but most of the Ascenians—Uldyssian included—were already covered in sweat.

The one obvious exception was Mendeln, naturally. He trudged through the jungle as if more comfortable in it than even the locals. With his dark garments, Uldyssian’s brother should have been dying under the sweltering heat, but not one drop of moisture had so far formed on Mendeln’s calm countenance.

Uldyssian’s gaze shifted to Serenthia. She, like him, showed signs of the heat, albeit not quite so severely. He looked at her closely, seeing for the first time how beautiful she was as a woman, not simply a friend he had always thought of like a sister. How he envied now Achilios’s place in her heart, a place he had once held, but had squandered. Any thought of making an advance toward Serenthia Uldyssian quickly crushed; he still felt directly responsible for the archer’s terrible demise.

Serenthia paused to drink from her water sack, but as she lifted the opening to her lips, her grip slipped. The sack fell, its contents spilling all over the ground.

He reached for his own. “You can drink some of this.”

Retrieving the sack, Serenthia shook her head. “Save yours. We passed a stream just a few yards back…and besides, this’ll give me a chance to deal with some private matters.”

“Someone should go with—”

She gave him a grateful smile. “I’ll be fine. You’ll probably be able to see the top of my head most of the time.”

That still did not satisfy Uldyssian, but he knew better than to argue with her. Signaling the others to keep moving, he stood firm where he was. “I’ll be right here. I won’t go anywhere.”

Again, Cyrus’s daughter smiled. Uldyssian found he liked when she smiled at him.

Serenthia rushed off. A few of the others wanted to stay with Uldyssian, but he politely refused their company. Despite the shifting greenery and the shadows caused by the thick foliage, Uldyssian did the best he could to keep some part of her in sight at all times. As she had said, the stream was right beside them; in fact, others had used it before Serenthia. There was really no reason to be concerned…

But then, that was not the first time that he had thought that…and been proven horribly wrong.

Serenthia bent down, for the first time vanishing from his field of vision. Uldyssian held his breath…then exhaled as she rose again.

She glanced over her shoulder and with a wave of her hand, commanded him to look away. Despite his trepidation, he finally obeyed.

There was a rustling of leaves, then silence. It occurred to Uldyssian that he could use his powers to check on her location, but suspected that Serenthia would, with her own, notice him doing just that. However, considering her present circumstances, the former farmer shied away from doing so.

There was a muffled sound from Serenthia’s direction. Uldyssian peered around for her. With relief, the dark-haired woman’s head reappeared. Seconds later, Serenthia slipped back to join him.

“I was worried…for a moment,” he admitted.

Much to his surprise, her eyes brightened at this comment. Serenthia put a hand to his cheek. She smiled almost shyly.

“I like that,” the merchant’s daughter finally murmured.

Then, her face reddening, Serenthia rushed on, briefly leaving a befuddled Uldyssian to try to understand just what the incident meant, if anything. Then, forcing such dangerous thoughts from the forefront, he hurried after the rest of the party. They did not head toward the capital, as some thought, but rather, farther south, toward where the main temple lay. It was not what Uldyssian would have chosen, but Lilith had forced his hand. Despite her acting as if she wanted him to destroy the Triune, he somehow felt that if he went directly for their supreme headquarters, it would be more than the demoness expected. Uldyssian hoped in that manner to throw her off guard.

Unfortunately, he also suspected that he was still playing into her hands.

The makeshift army paused near a river that, according to the Torajians, flowed between the southern gates of the city and the lands owned by the Triune. Uldyssian saw the river as the perfect guide for the rest of their journey. Romus and some of the others located the best area for the camp and the nephalem started to settle down for the night.

Recalling the river reptiles that Achilios had caught, Uldyssian made certain that not only did his followers steer clear of sleeping too close to the water, but that no one went alone to it for any reason. Even then, those small groups who did head to the river were to alert other people of the fact first.

“We should be able to fear nothing,” he remarked sarcastically to Mendeln. The two sat alone near one of the many fires. “That’s what these powers should mean, but look at us…”

“They are learning rapidly, Uldyssian. Have you not noticed that the more converts you gain, the more of your followers increase their abilities and quicker?”

“They need to! I’m marching them into a war with demons and magic and who knows what else!” He buried his head in his hands. “Will they be ready for that, Mendeln? You saw how it was in Toraja…”

“The lesson of Toraja is burned into all of us, brother. The next time will be different.”

Uldyssian looked up, his eyes narrowing. “The next time. What did the Torajians call the place?”

“Hashir. It is smaller than Toraja.”

“But somehow I doubt it’ll be any easier.”

Shrugging, Mendeln replied, “What will be will be.”

The younger brother stood up, and with a pat on Uldyssian’s shoulder, walked off. Uldyssian sat there, watching the flames and recalling the ones engulfing the temple and parts of Toraja. Would it be like that all over again? How many would perish this time? He had felt so determined after Lucion’s destruction, but Toraja had taken much of that from him, not that he let anyone other than Mendeln truly know that.

“You shouldn’t fret so, Uldyssian. It’s not good for you or for those who follow you.”

He looked up to see Serenthia step into the light of the fire like some night spirit. Her hair flowed loose and Uldyssian was surprised at just how long and lush it had gotten.

“I thought you were asleep,” he replied.

“Sleep…” Brushing back some hair, she sat down next to him. “I don’t sleep as much as some think, Uldyssian.”

That was something that he could understand, often suffering it himself, but to hear that Serenthia shared the problem worried him. “You should have said something…”

Her eyes glistened in the light of the fire. “To you? How could I bother you, when you’ve got so much with which to deal?”

As she spoke, she leaned against him. Her nearness both stirred him and added to his guilt.

“I always have time for you,” he heard himself say.

Serenthia touched the back of his hand. “If there was anyone I’d turned to, you know that it would be you, Uldyssian. And you know that I would be there for you, also. I’ve always been there for you…”

He remembered all the years that she had followed him around, waiting for the farmer to notice the young girl who had become a woman. Uldyssian had, but unlike most of the other men in Seram, not in the manner in which Serenthia had hoped.

But now, at a time when he least wanted to, he was noticing her as she had once dreamed.

She leaned closer…too close. “Uldyssian—”

Caught between desire and loyalty to a lost comrade, Uldyssian tried not to look directly into her eyes—

And, in doing so, saw something all but shadowed by the nighttime jungle.

With a gasp, he leapt to his feet.

“Uldyssian! What is it?”

He instinctively looked down at her, then quickly returned his gaze to the wilderness. However, all that met his eyes were darkened trees and vines. Nothing else. Nothing remotely resembling a human shape.

Nothing, certainly, resembling a figure with a pale face draped by blond hair, a figure whom he had taken for someone long dead.

“Achilios…” Uldyssian whispered. Without thinking, he took a step toward the jungle.

“What did you say?” asked Serenthia, suddenly standing in his path. “Did you see something out there?”

“No…nothing…” He could not tell her that he had just seen a ghost, a dead man walking. After all it had only been his own guilt that had manifested the vision. They had left Achilios buried far, far behind them…

To his further dismay, Serenthia put her palms on his chest. She looked up at him. “Uldyssian—”

“It’s late,” he interrupted, backing up from her. “We should do the best we can to sleep, Serry.” He purposely used the other name this time, hoping it would douse the volatile situation.

She frowned, then nodded. “As you say.”

Uldyssian expected her to say more, but she suddenly turned and headed deeper into the encampment. He watched her vanish among the others, then sat down by the fire again.

Staring at the jungle, Uldyssian suddenly probed the shadows. There was nothing, though, and he had not thought that there would be. It had been his own regrets, nothing more.

Achilios was dead…and for that reason alone, Uldyssian could never allow things to grow between Serenthia and him. Mendeln jolted to a sitting position, the sensation of something awry filling him. He hated when that particular sensation occurred, for it usually presaged imminent disaster for all. Quickly peering around, he saw no reason for his concern, but that did not assuage him in the least. His brother and he dealt with far too many dangers that kept themselves hidden until ready to spring upon the pair.

Moving silently, Mendeln rose from his blanket. Unlike most of the others, he did not sleep near the fires, preferring somehow the quiet dark of night over the protective light of the flames. Another change from the young boy who had always huddled closest whenever the last glimmer of day had passed.

His first concern was Uldyssian. With catlike movements, he stepped among the sleeping edyrem—as they were now apparently to be called—until he located his brother. Uldyssian slept fitfully and alone, Serenthia nowhere in sight. Mendeln felt mildly disappointed about the last. With Achilios dead, he had hoped that the two would find one another. Certainly, they deserved a little bit of happiness. Of course, his brother likely still felt too much at fault over the hunter and Serenthia had long ago given up trying to catch Uldyssian’s eye.

Would that my concerns would all revolve around something so mundane as love, Mendeln finally thought. Matters would be so much more simple.

But if it was not any imminent danger to Uldyssian, then what troubled Mendeln so? As he wended his way back to his sleeping place, he considered the event again. No dream of significance came to him. No sound had touched his ears. By rights, he should still be fast asleep.

Mendeln looked about and only then noticed that the area was devoid of his own companions. There was always a ghost around, some shade who could not immediately detach itself from his presence. The party had left Toraja not only with new converts, but also several dozen specters who, for the most part, had perished in the struggle. Many had disappeared along the way, but a few new ones had joined during the day’s march. Most of those had been unlucky hunters or travelers who had fallen victim to the dangers of the jungle. Like the rest, they appeared to be wanting something from Mendeln, but when it became clear that he would not give it to them, gradually faded away once more.

But rarely did all of them disappear.

Curious, Mendeln headed to the edge of camp. He could see far better than anyone else in the dark, but still all he noted was more and more shadows.

And yet…was there a slight movement well to his right?

“Come to me…” he whispered. The first time he had spoken such words, it had summoned the ghosts even closer to him. Normally, Mendeln kept from summoning them, but if this specter had significance to him and his brother, it behooved him to find out.

But the shape did not drift forward, and in fact, the more Mendeln eyed it, the less certain he was that he had seen correctly. Now it did resemble some fern or other plant, not a man…

But the sensation continued to press at his mind. Exhaling in exasperation, Mendeln entered the jungle. He knew that he took some risk, for while the insects that plagued most of the others stayed clear of him, he did not know if the same held true for the huge carnivores of whom the Torajians spoke.

In his eyes, the jungle at night was lovelier, like a beautiful, mysterious woman. The dangers hidden by the dark made that woman only more thrilling. As he forayed deeper, Mendeln marveled that such imagery would occur to him. Yes, he was definitely no longer the frightened child he had been even after growing up.

The shape Mendeln had noticed had to be near, but now nothing he saw even remotely resembled it. Had it been, after all, his imagination or had whoever he had seen retreated once discovered?

A hand touched his shoulder.

He spun about…and found nobody behind him.

“Who are you?” Mendeln whispered.

The jungle remained steadfastly silent. Too silent, in fact, for a place where the calls of the daylight were often but a murmur compared to those beginning once the sun was gone. The jungle held more life in it than a thousand Serams, yet none of that was apparent now. From the smallest to the largest, the fauna was conspicuously absent.

But no sooner had Mendeln thought that when the leaves to his left rustled…and a form moving on two legs slipped by at the edge of his vision.

“Spare me your tricks and games!” he growled. “Show yourself or else!” Mendeln had no idea exactly what “or else” might be. In past circumstances of danger, he had suddenly spouted words in an ancient tongue he had never known, words of power that had saved him more than once. However, whether those words would protect him from the lurker, he was not so certain.

It moved again, this time to his right. Mendeln automatically spouted a word—and a brief, gray glow filled the immediate vicinity.

But what he saw was not at all what he expected.

“No…” Uldyssian’s brother rasped, refusing to accept what that momentary glow had revealed. “No…”

It had to be a delusion…or a trick, he thought. Yes, that made sense and hardened his resolve.

Mendeln could think of only one being who would do such an obscene thing.

“Lilith…” And here he was alone, a fool overconfident in his feeble abilities. No doubt the demoness was readying the fatal blow. How would it come? Mendeln would perish in some monstrous manner, naturally, his death drawn out.

Oddly, death itself did not disturb him. It was the part just before that which Mendeln wished to avoid.

He would not show her any fear. If somehow he could use his demise to help or at least warn Uldyssian, then that was something. “Very well, Lilith. You have me. Come and do what you wish.”

Words formed on his tongue. His hopes rose slightly. He knew that the words’ power would give him some chance to at least stave off the inevitable…

Something whizzed past his ear. There was a grotesque, bestial howl, followed by a dull thunk, as if something had collided with one of the many trees.

Mendeln peered in the direction of the howl and saw something sinister standing against one of the thick trunks. When he saw that the thing did not move, he finally approached it.

It was a morlu…a morlu with an arrow through the throat just where the helmet and breastplate left only half an inch of space. Mendeln started to reach for the arrow, its presence stirring another nightmare—

The morlu lifted his head, the black pits staring at Mendeln. The warrior grasped for Uldyssian’s brother.

The same words that he had earlier used on one of these fiends in the house of Master Ethon spilled from Mendeln. As they did, the morlu’s grasping hands twitched wildly. A gurgle escaped the pale lips.

The morlu slumped again, only the arrow pinning him to the tree keeping the bestial figure from falling at Mendeln’s feet.

Without hesitation, Mendeln put a hand over the monstrous warrior’s chest. Other words, again first used in Partha, sprang easily from the lips of Uldyssian’s brother.

Most would have been unable to see the small, black cloud that rose from the morlu. It hovered over Mendeln’s palm. He stared at the foulness for a moment, then snapped shut his hand.

The cloud vanished.

“No more will you be raised to do evil.” Whatever darkness animated a morlu, gave it semblance of true life, would not be able to resurrect this particular corpse. Mendeln had made certain of that.

But there still remained whatever had initially rescued him from the Triune’s servant. Mendeln finally touched the arrow, noting with mild dismay that there was dirt all over the shaft. Just like the arrow that had slain one of the Peace Warders.

“It cannot be…he is dead…”

But life is only a robe which all wear but fleeting…

Though the thought flowed through his mind, Mendeln by no stretch of the imagination believed it his own. He had felt that other presence in his head before. It had always guided him, yet, now what it said only made Mendeln more anxious.

“No!” he growled at the darkness. “He is dead! To think otherwise is evil! He is buried! I was there! I chose the spot! I chose—”

He had chosen to bury the body very near an ancient structure bearing the same sort of markings as the stone near Seram. Mendeln gaped at his own naivety. Why did he think that he had chosen that very location? Something had urged him to do it and he had blithefully acquiesced.

Shaking his head, Mendeln backed up—

And collided with another form.

Uldyssian’s brother spun around…and stared into the pale, dirty face of Achilios.