Scales of the Serpent

8

They remained in the area the next day…and the next after that. Uldyssian did not sleep once, fearing that any respite would lessen his chances of finding Mendeln. The longer his brother remained missing, the longer the odds that Mendeln was still alive.

Saron and Romus, accompanied by Tomo and a small mix of other Parthans and Torajians, finally dared approach him late on the succeeding day. They found Uldyssian where he often was, standing at the edge of the camp with eyes shut and hands curled into fists. Around him, noticeable only to the eyes of edyrem, glowed a silver aura.

The aura vanished before either of the first two could summon the courage to speak. Uldyssian turned to face the group.

“Tomorrow…” he muttered. “If nothing by then…I promise it’ll be tomorrow.”

Saron, thin and wiry, bowed low. “Master Uldyssian, it is not that we wish to abandon your brother…if Tomo, who is like a brother to me, were missing, I would search just as you do, but—”

“But searching the same ground over and over and over is futile. I understand, Saron. I can’t risk everyone else by forcing them to wait here.” He looked among those who had come, both men and women. These were many of his most promising, with enough control now to be a threat to the majority of human foes. Even perhaps a morlu or a lesser demon. Yet, they were lost without him.

“Tomorrow,” he repeated, starting to turn back to the jungle. “Thank you for understanding.”

The Parthans nodded while most of Saron’s people bowed. As they trudged off, Uldyssian refocused his efforts. There had to be somewhere or something that he had missed. Some clue that whatever had taken Mendeln had left behind.

But continually he came up empty-handed. Finally, as the sun set, Uldyssian retired to eat. He did not even notice of what his meal consisted, his attention entirely on seeking some new course of action.

Belatedly, Uldyssian noticed that Serenthia sat across from him. Since his wordless departure from her, they had stood apart. He knew that she would have liked to have been with him, even comforted him, and the fact that he felt the same ripped at his heart. Yet, for more than one reason, the son of Diomedes refused to give in to such things.

He went back to searching as soon as his food was gone. Taking his cue from the effort he and Serenthia had put in together, Uldyssian let his mind reach out far beyond what his eyes could see.

Alone, he could not survey the jungle in quite so dramatic a fashion as the two of them had, but still Uldyssian felt certain that he covered the areas that he studied as thoroughly as possible.

But still he did not find even so much as a hint of what had happened.

In the end, there remained only one other hope, something that he had not wanted to attempt for it endangered not only him. However, it was the single possibility that Uldyssian thought at all yet likely.

And so, stretching himself to his limits, he reached out to the distant ruins…and that which lurked among them.

The effort proved not quite the strain Uldyssian had believed it would be. He could only assume that perhaps his efforts with Serenthia had further unfettered the potential of his abilities. Uldyssian marveled at this, even as his thoughts propelled him within range of the demonic presence’s ancient abode.

But once there, Uldyssian immediately noticed the lack of any sign of Mendeln. More curious, he also noticed how faint the specter’s trace was, so much so that at first he could not even sense it. If the presence was the source of his brother’s disappearance, surely Mendeln could have easily fought back against such paltry power.

Nonetheless, Uldyssian continued to probe the ruins. As he did, he finally sensed the presence stir somewhat…but without radiating any of the violent emotion from the first encounter. In fact, it was almost as if the demon now wished to relay something to him.

To enable it to do that, though, would require Uldyssian to let down some of his guard. He studied his adversary as best he could, sensing only weakness…and urgency. There was no hint of threat. At last, desperate to find some clue, however remote, Uldyssian relented.

But as he began to open himself up, someone suddenly shook his physical form. Immediately, the ruins—and their malevolent inhabitant—receded into the dark…and Uldyssian found himself once more poised at the edge of the camp.

Serenthia stood beside him, her eyes wide with fear. “Uldyssian! Are you mad? I nearly didn’t break the link between you in time!”

“I finally had some hope!” he snapped back, registering what she had done. “A clue to Mendeln—”

“Not from that evil thing! Think! Why would it tell you anything to help you? Why?”

He started to reply, then hesitated. Uldyssian had no good explanation and the more he thought about it, the more he knew that Serenthia’s point had much merit. Why would the creature do anything to assist in the hunt? In his desperation, it was very likely that all Uldyssian had been doing was giving the demonic presence a chance for vengeance against him.

And, after that, surely it would have once more tried for Serenthia…

Running his fingers through his hair, he muttered, “You’re right. Damn it, you’re right, Serenthia…”

“I’m sorry. Really I am.” She looked deep into his eyes. “You’ve done everything for Mendeln that you could…that anyone could. What more is there?”

Again, Uldyssian had no good answer.

“You’re tired,” the merchant’s daughter continued. “You need rest.”

He nodded. Suddenly, it was all Uldyssian could do just to stand. Even he had to admit that nothing good would come of attempting any more searches today.

“I promised the others that we’d leave tomorrow,” he informed her. “Tell them that we’ll do so at first light.”

“I should stay with you—”

“No. Please tell them, Serenthia.” With that, Uldyssian purposely retreated to a spot near the closest of the fires and immediately laid down. He eyed the flames, noticing belatedly that Serenthia still watched him. Finally, her expression masked, she walked away to do as he had requested.

Uldyssian shut his eyes. Even though he was so very tired and had agreed to get rest, he knew that he would not sleep. How could he? His brother was very likely dead. Uldyssian already knew that he would spend the entire night going over every search for the hundredth time, seeking some error he had made. Over and over he would analyze everything that he had done—

A soft hand on Uldyssian’s shoulder gently shook him awake. He stiffened and a grin started to cross his face, for he had just been dreaming that Mendeln had returned unharmed. However, glancing up, his smile faltered, for he saw that it was Serenthia awakening him…and that above her, light had begun filtering through the foliage.

“I had them let you sleep as long as possible,” she quietly told him. “The others are nearly ready to depart.”

An intense feeling of guilt washed over him, as if he had somehow betrayed his brother by actually sleeping. “You should’ve woken me much sooner!” Uldyssian blurted, his anger unreasonable even to himself. After all, the woman leaning over him was almost as concerned about Mendeln as he was.

“I need to do one more search! I think that this time I can find—”

His companion frowned sadly. “If I thought you had any chance at all, Uldyssian, I’d be there at your side. You know that. I can see it in your face, though. You don’t have any new idea, do you? You just want to search and search, isn’t that right? Search until you find him…”

“Yes…no…but…”

“You’ve done all you could for Mendeln…just as you did for Achilios. We have to move on, even if I don’t want to any more than you. For the sake of all the rest…and you, too…there’s no other choice. Mendeln would be the first one to tell you that. You know he would.”

There was nothing more he could say. Uldyssian rose, took one look at the jungle, and then summoned Tomo to him.

“Can we make it to Hashir in four more days?”

“If we walk long and hard, Master Uldyssian. I would prefer to say five, if you please.”

“We make it in four.”

Tomo bowed. “Yes, Master Uldyssian.”

“We make it in four and we lose no one else along the way. I want that understood.” The son of Diomedes fought to keep his tone even. “No one else.”

“Yes, Master Uldyssian.”

Uldyssian looked at Serenthia. She gave him a determined smile and repeated his oath. “No one else.”

With her at his side and Tomo in his wake, he marched to the head of the already waiting throng.

Tomo rushed to Romus and Saron, whispering animatedly to the pair. What Uldyssian had demanded would quickly spread to the rest, just as he wanted.

Once in the lead, Uldyssian nodded back at his followers, then continued on. Silently, the edyrem flowed after.

They made great distance that day, driven for the most part by Uldyssian’s determination to now get as far away as he could from where his brother had vanished. By the end of the trek, even he felt every muscle scream. Guilt at how some of the others, especially the women and children, had probably suffered made him promise to the weary group that the next day would go much easier.

But it did not. Barely had they begun their trek when a storm swept across the jungle, a violent storm that forced Uldyssian to finally call a halt.

“It looks to last the whole day!” shouted Romus, shielding his eyes from debris torn up by the wind.

The rain coursed down like a thousand battering rams, forcing people to take what shelter they could.

Those with a better sense of their abilities created invisible barriers above themselves and others, but the longer and harder the rain fell, the more those weakened or dissipated entirely.

“Keep everyone together!” Uldyssian cursed the storm, certain somehow that it was working in league with Lilith and the Triune.

Serenthia struggled to hold on to his arm. “Something must be done about it! You must do something about it!”

Her words brought back undesired recollections. Lilith—as Lylia—had at one time suggested much the same thing. Then, it had concerned the storm clouds over Seram and its surrounding region. That storm had been dispersed, but he had later discovered that it had been more due to the demoness’s work than his own.

“No…” Uldyssian growled, not wishing to relive that time in any way. “No…I can’t…”

A nearby tree creaked ominously. Leaves and jagged branches flew through the air. A woman screamed as a terrible gust tossed her back into her companions. Children cried. Despite all that they had been given, despite all that they had learned, even the most talented of the edyrem began to give in to their fears and exhaustion.

Uldyssian knew that he should attempt something, even if only to remind the others of what they were capable. The band was not long from Hashir. They had to be ready to face what might be a more terrible foe despite the temple’s smaller size, for surely Hashir would be forewarned.

Yet, his will was weak, worn as it still was by Mendeln’s loss. He shook his head, fighting with himself—

Without warning, Serenthia let go of him. Uldyssian grabbed for her but missed. To his surprise, she stepped into the most open area around them, where the storm threatened worst. Although already drenched to the skin, Cyrus’s daughter stood proud and tall. She held high the spear, brandishing it at the sinister black clouds.

“Away with you!” Serenthia shouted at the top of her lungs at the dark sky. “Away!”

Seeing her there, doing futilely what he might actually be able to accomplish, filled Uldyssian with incredible remorse. Mendeln would not have wanted him acting this way because of him. If there was any hope that Uldyssian could stop this raging tempest, then it behooved him at the very least to make the attempt—

But that thought died as something incredible unfolded. Like some warrior goddess, Serenthia continued to not only defy the elements, but demanded that they bow to her. She waved the spear as if ready to toss it into the heart of the storm…

And then…and then the rain slowed, finally ceasing altogether. The wind died down to a mere whisper. The black clouds faded to gray and then began to disperse.

The others—Uldyssian included—stood awestruck by this miracle. An aura surrounded Serenthia, a brilliant golden aura. Yet, she stood as if unnoticing of this or any of the other phenomena. Instead, she continued to demand obedience from the sky…and received it.

The last of the clouds melted away. A hush settled over the dense jungle, not even the multitude of insects usually present letting out so much as a single sound.

Arms dropping to her sides, Serenthia let out a gasp. Her body shook and the spear dropped from her grip. At the same time, the aura disappeared.

Slowly, very slowly, Serenthia looked over her shoulder at Uldyssian. Her face stone white, her breathing rapid, she managed to blurt, “I…did it…didn’t I?”

He nodded, feeling both shame and exhilaration. Serenthia had done what he should have instinctively chosen to do. In the process, she had revealed a level of power that only he had so far exhibited. She should not have had to put herself through so much…but the fact that she had just proven what Uldyssian had always preached finally stirred him to life.

“Yes…you did it,” he said proudly and so loud that all those around them could hear. “You did what any of us are capable of!” He faced the edyrem. “And I, who claim so much, offer my deepest apologies that I did nothing—nothing —at all…”

But Serenthia was the first of many to protest his failure. No one said why they bothered to defend him, but to Uldyssian it obviously had to do with Mendeln. He felt grateful for the care and support and swore that he would not let himself fall again, if only for their sake.

Still, he could not feel but thrilled by Serenthia’s triumph and advancement. There had always been a hint of disbelief among his followers whenever Uldyssian had insisted that he was no more mighty than any of them. Now, even the least among the Parthans and Torajians knew that they could achieve so much more. Even Serenthia, for all that she had done this day, had not yet reached his level.

“The storm is gone!” Uldyssian shouted. “And, in honor of that, it’ll be you, Serenthia, who gives command for the rest of us to continue the march! You!”

A wide smile spread across her still wet countenance. Serenthia plucked the spear from the ground, then pointed in the direction of their goal.

“Onward to Hashir!” she called with gusto.

A cheer erupted from the others. Serenthia looked Uldyssian’s way once more. He nodded, indicating with his chin that she should begin the trek. If anything, her smile grew wider yet. Shoulders proud, she started walking.

After giving her a few paces, Uldyssian followed. Romus and the other edyrem joined after. The mood of the makeshift army rose to new levels. Uldyssian sensed their confidence; here was now the force that had taken Toraja’s temple and would do the same to Hashir. Here was the beginning of something that the Triune would now truly fear. Here was something, he started to believe, that even Lilith would be unprepared to face.

And perhaps…perhaps…here was something that somehow might help him yet find Mendeln…

Arihan had not lived half as long as his late counterpart, Malic—who himself had supposedly had not one, but more than two lifetimes granted him by the master—but he looked almost old enough to have been the dead high priest’s father. Arihan, who had once been a thief, a liar, a cutpurse, and a murderer—and now used those skills more often as high priest of Dialon—did not believe in the vanities that Malic, partly Ascenian by birth, had so often displayed. Malic had been a peacock, wearing not only fine clothes but maintaining a face and form not truly his for many, many decades.

Born of low caste in the deep recesses of the capital, the gaunt, thick-bearded Arihan had expected that one day the lead cleric of Mefis would, in his arrogance, overstep himself. That prediction had recently come to pass, but Arihan wisely kept his glee hidden from the others. It was one thing to maneuver for position in the hierarchy, another to be pleased with a failure that affected the Triune even more than it had the fool who had perished because of it. This Uldyssian ul-Diomed was of significance to the sect’s ultimate objectives and Malic’s tremendous debacle had ruined any chance of ever seducing the peasant to the cause. Now, a more harsh course of action would need to be taken.

Arihan had been ready to offer his services in pursuing the matter immediately after Malic’s demise, but something strange had happened that had caused him to hesitate. The Primus, ever predictable in his perfection, of late acted as if not quite himself. He had grown very reclusive and subject to lengthy, inexplicable absences. More confusing, he gave commands to his followers that seemed just as likely to create havoc among the priests as they did to better enable them to coordinate their efforts.

Yes, there was something amiss…but Arihan had no idea how best to approach that difficulty. He certainly was not about to register his concerns with either of his counterparts, especially Malic’s novice—but highly ambitious—replacement. If only—

A particularly ugly Peace Warder suddenly stood in the high priest’s path. So caught up in his thoughts, Arihan nearly collided with the dolt.

The Peace Warder was obviously mad, for he seemed unconcerned about his transgression. “The Lord Primus wishes to speak with you, High Priest Arihan. Immediately.”

“Where is he?” the bearded elder asked, his monotone voice belying his sudden anxiety.

“Awaiting you in his chambers, venerable one.”

Arihan gave the man a dismissive nod and strode down the long marble hallway at a pace that indicated confidence but not disrespect. He passed several more Peace Warders standing at attention along the way, the guards as resolute as statues. For some reason, that stirred his concerns more.

The sentries at the doors to the Primus’s inner sanctum gave way without any preamble, which made the robed figure feel as if he was already late. The Primus did not like tardiness; Arihan recalled at least one incident when such a sin had left the sinner bereft of his beating heart.

All was darkness as he entered the chambers. The doors slammed shut behind him with a harsh finality. Arihan blinked, trying to accustom his eyes to the black rooms. He knew in which he would find his master, but what was the reason for having no light whatsoever along the path? Generally, there was at least an oil lamp or dim torch.

The priest took a step forward…and something about the size of a cat scurried over his sandaled foot.

Arihan let out an uncharacteristic yelp, which only served to add to his tensions. How did it look for the high priest of Dialon—or rather, Diablo —to be startled by something so small and unseen? He served the master of terror! Arihan hoped and prayed that something had distracted the Primus’s attention at that moment…

He could now see just enough to wend his way to the innermost chamber. It occurred to him that perhaps he could have conjured a light, but the Primus wanted darkness for a reason, whatever that might be.

As Arihan reached the doorway to his master’s sanctum, it opened by itself. A dim, unearthly illumination greeted him. Arihan glanced down at his narrow hands, which were now the green of decay.

“Enter, enter, High Priest Arihan!” the Primus called, his voice oddly excited.

Doing as commanded, Arihan stepped toward the throne. As he neared, he saw the Primus, a giant, bearded man both younger and older in appearance than him, study the newcomer with a strange fascination. Again, Arihan wondered about the recent changes in the personality of the figure before him. He had always known what to expect…but not this time.

As was custom, the priest went down on one knee just before his master’s feet. He knew that the Primus was indeed the scion of Lord Mephisto, but always thought of him by his mortal title, not his name.

Never as Lucion.

“Great and powerful Primus, son of the most regal Mephisto, your loyal attendant, Arihan, is here at your request. How may I serve thee?”

A short, erratic chuckle escaped the vicinity of the Primus. Arihan fought not to look up in surprise at this disconcerting sound. He had never heard the master laugh so…so madly.

Almost as quickly as he thought it, the priest smothered the blasphemy. It was not proper to think ill of the Primus, not proper and not wise for one’s health.

“Rise! Rise, High Priest Arihan!” the seated figure commanded almost jovially.

Arihan obeyed. He tried to keep his expression and gaze respectful. Perhaps this was a test. Perhaps his master wanted to see how dedicated and loyal Arihan was.

“I am yours to command, most glorious one.”

“Yes…yes, you are…” The Primus leaned against one of the armrests of the throne. “This—I am the Voice of the Triune, am I not?”

“But, of course, most glorious one.” Arihan felt his brow begin to furrow in concern and perplexity, but fought the action away. He would keep a face of calm adoration, no matter what peculiarity the Primus next exhibited.

Yes, surely this was some sort of test…

The Primus fidgeted. Then, as if aware of how he looked, his aspect grew stern. “High Priest Arihan! Do you have anything to say?”

“N-nay, most glorious one! I but await your word on what it is you wish of me!”

“Very good…very good…” A small, black form—a spider, Arihan realized—crawled up out of the Primus’s collar. The leader of the Triune paid no mind to the vermin, even when it began making its way up his neck. “This—I have a plan to bring the mortal to our cause, High Priest Arihan. A masterful plan! But it must be implemented quickly, for it involves our brothers in Hashir.”

“Hashir?” repeated the priest, trying in vain to keep his gaze from shifting to the arachnid. It now crawled on the Primus’s jaw, still apparently undetected.

“Hashir…yes, Hashir will be the perfect place to turn this all around…”

Arihan bowed to the Primus’s wisdom. If he had a plan, then surely it would come to wondrous fruition.

The spider now crawled near the ear, two legs even probing within. Try as he might, the high priest of Dialon could not help but stare at it.

Spiders…there was something about spiders that Arihan had once known. What was it—?

With astonishing reflexes, the figure on the throne suddenly snatched the arachnid up. The Primus clenched his hand, crushing the creature within.

“There is something wrong, my Arihan?”

It was the first time since the gaunt man had entered that his master had not used his title. Although unsettled, Arihan managed to shake his head.

“So good…so good…” The hand remained clenched. The Primus smiled wide…something he had never done before. “You are to be my agent! This is what you will do that will bring the human Uldyssian to our side…whether he wishes to come or not.”

Arihan bowed his head and listened as the Primus outlined his intentions. He listened and all thought of the master’s recent quirks were quickly buried deep in his mind. After all, Arihan lived to serve the Primus; in the end, that was all that mattered.

That…and the knowledge that even if there might now be a hint of madness in the son of Mephisto, the Primus could still crush Arihan as simply as he had the spider.