paranoianovel The Three that Dwell in Ash I
The Three that Dwell in Ash I
The Three that Dwell in Ash I
Crackle.
The campfire danced atop the stones, casting a flickering orange light and hissing from fat dripping above. Six quail hens and a plump hare roasting upon a copper spit sizzled, their skin darkening to golden brown. Their aroma was tantalizing.
St. Cristabel turned the spit and anointed each with salt and sour wine. Her shadow - made long from the flame - danced over the hull of her dugout boat and bundle of supplies, more weighted for a beast of burden than a human. The vermillion metal of her bearing sword glinted as it lay upon the sapphire of her shield. Her helm lay close by. Unstrapped, chestnut curls - tangled and greased from long travel - hung down to the knights mid back, lightly swaying in the low wind that bent the fire toward the west.
Wurhi of Zabyalla hugged her cloak tightly about herself, shivering in the chill. Her belly growled and her eyes watched the meat as though it were glistening gold.
Patience. Cristabel did not take her eyes from her task, but her plate armour clinked as she shifted her weight in Wurhis direction. You will have not long to wait, though I would curb your excitement. I am no master cook.
Dont care. You take too long and Ill eat it raw. Wurhi rubbed her hands together rapidly. She glanced to the larger woman. Er, thanks for making all this.
The knight waved a gauntleted hand. You granted me freedom and life. I merely saw you both repaid.
You did that when you saved our lives.
Then it is repayment for the company! Cristabel grinned broadly. I am as starved for that as you are for this. She pointed to the meat.
I wouldnt take that bet. Ive had nothing but mushrooms, berries and water for days.
The last soul I had words with before you was the son of Avernix.
Yeah, okay.
The women snickered.
Speaking of company, I wonder after your companion. The saint glanced toward the forest. Did he not promise to return shortly?
Hell be fine, Wurhi waved a hand dismissively. Wish hed hurry though.
A mountain of fuel rose by their side. Kyembe had borne the logs up the flight of steps over many trips before retreating back into the dark of the wood. He often referred to the tablets of Lukotor the Wise, muttering to himself with eyes sparking with gleeful vindictiveness. Hed dragged the bodies of Eppon and four other corpses against the westward wall. Mercifully, their stench blew away from the fire; already Wurhi saw flies buzzing on Avernixs son.
He is taking a while though. The Zabyallan eyed the sullen boughs far above them. The ruined tower rose four floors but the trees dwarfed it, and she felt like she was being measured by a ring of hungry titans.
Worry not of the ogres, St. Cristabel said with confidence. The light upon this tower can be seen, but we are in a defensible position: ogres cannot reach us from outside and their bulk is much too great for the doorwayit is almost a pity. Her eyes were blue balefire in the light of the flame. I am still stiff and the warriors of Avernix were woeful exercise.
A chill shuddered through Wurhi. That look in St. Cristabels eye was uncomfortably familiar. She told herself she was imagining it. Its not those overgrown brutes thats scaring me - well, they are - but not as much as that old vulture getting that magic egg first while we take our time.
The knights voice was flint. Why does he prepare a ritual to summon a demon? A vile one at that!
Wurhi defended him. Hesheshes She paused. She whirled. Kyembe! Are you bringing a demon?
He looked up with a wounded expression, pausing his chant. You ruined the surprise!
Wurhi exploded. Why!? she shrieked. Why are you bringing a demon? Why are you bringing a demon with me around?
Trust me.
Stop saying that!
Kyembe offered no more explanation as he dragged the piled bodies into an arrangement about the bonfire, placing them head outward to construct the points of macabre star. I thought to use animal corpses that I found in the forest for this ritual, but our most gracious enemies have provided: the bodies of higher beings always suit magic better.
With a lean finger, he drew three ashen circles surrounding them. It will take too long to describe and time is short. Better that you see. All you must know for now is that you will be safe outside of these circles. He looked at the tablets again. The Three Who Dwell in Ash cannot break them.
The what?! Wurhi cried.
The saint set her jaw, and her body began to move.
Panicking, Wurhi caught her by her armoured forearm. Wait, wait! Both the knight and Kyembe wielded terrible violence and worse magics, and she did not fancy her odds were a fight to break out between them. See what he does first!
He trucks with filth. St. Cristabel bristled. I have heard both word fair and foul spoken of Kyembe the Spirit Killer, but it seems the truth lay toward the latter. The Three Who Dwell in Ash are vile beyond counting. To worship or call upon them is an act most foul.
The Zabyallan frowned. To her, demons and gods were little different; deceiving, devouring, killing and demanding sacrifice. She had no grounds to see this Amitiyah dissimilarly to whatever Kyembe was about to dump into the world. Of course, she was not so mad as to voice this before the zeal burning in the Traemeans eyes. We could have left you down in that pit to starve, she said carefully. And weve done nothing to you. If hes doing something like this, its going to be for the damned best reason. She looked to Kyembe hopefully. Right?
He peered up from Lukotors tablets. What was that? I was contemplating these.
Wurhi nearly pushed the knight aside to kill him herself.
Whoom.
The bonfire pulsed.
Crawling sensations of a thousand maggots froze Wurhi still. A bitterness settled into the air, weighty with the attention of something that should never be called upon.
The door is open. Kyembes smile was vicious. His crimson eyes were demonic in the firelight. I will begin the call. Do not step into the circle and do not disturb the ash.