The Immortal of Degoskirke Read online

  Ziesqe concluded by auctioning off the cart and bruton.

  They left the stage as the cart rolled away with its new brutox owner. Before Ziesqe could open his mouth, a woman carrying a large ledger appeared. She wore an ebony ruff and a fine orange tunic fringed in black lace. A pair of similarly garbed mice sat, not on her shoulders, but on each side of her ruff.

  “Would you like to change all that coinage for larger denominations?” she asked.

  Ziesqe took a heavy breath.

  She cracked a slight smile as the mice whispered in her ear. “I see you’re tired. I’ll only charge two ludma, no need to haggle.”

  Ziesqe huffed and then nodded. They left the clothier street, and approached a prominent and ornate wooden building, reminding Andy of the gilded counting house from earlier, only larger. The sign outside read: “Mercantile Guild of Degoskirke - Panforum Headquarters.”

  “Let’s count the money there; you can give the Merchant’s Guild their cut as well. You don’t want to be on the wrong side of the statutes, or you’ll be barred from trading in the Panforum.”

  “Or worse,” Ziesqe added. “I didn’t realize I had a guild agent in the audience.”

  She smiled, and the mice stared suspiciously at them.

  “People find this to be a friendlier way of enforcing local laws. The Panforum is our parcel, after all. Imagine what might have happened, had you conducted that little auction in any other part of the city.”

  “What would have happened?” Andy asked.

  She gave him a curious look. “First time in the city, lad? Hmm, well, if you had tried to cut the Guild out of this sale, you would have wounded yourself. The red baggers, or worse, had eyes on you and your cargo from the moment you entered the city. If you had tried to start a sale somewhere else, they would have stormed—” Ziesqe interrupted with a wave.

  “Storming, rushing hundreds of members into a plaza and forcefully changing the local laws in a flash.”

  She nodded and continued. “In your hour or so of auctioneering, they would have run the parcel’s tax through the ceiling and bled you dry. The guild keeps merchants safe from that kind of legal thievery, here in the Panforum. Look at the peace knot,” she said, pointing to a plaza that was unlike the others.

  The sign read “Panforum,” but only one book hung there, and there was no audience. White ribbons stretched across the plaza and met in the middle of the stage in a knot. A red wax seal held the knot closed and a handful of armored guards kept watchful eyes over the stage.

  “That is a concord, the sealed ribbon—or, as she calls it—a peace knot,” Ziesqe whispered to Andy.

  A guild-mouse interrupted. “You aren’t grumbling, are you? I’ve seen people robbed to the tune of ninety percent in some cases. Enough to run you out of business forever. You should be grateful that we’re here for you.”

  “Indeed, we are,” Ziesqe said.

  The other mouse chimed in. “Foreign merchants have a tendency to be afraid of the guild, but we are your friends. If you join, we can cut your rate down from twenty, to fifteen percent.”

  Ziesqe rolled his eyes, and whispered to Andy, “This is why I hated being a merchant.” Then, loudly to the guildsfolk, “Yes, that’s why I came straight to the Panforum. Give me a moment with the lad, before I join you inside.”

  The woman smiled. “Of course, I’ll have a table set up for us, and some tea, or coffee, if you prefer.”

  The guildsfolk went inside, though a few armed brutox, also in guild-livery, kept a respectful distance. Ziesqe led Andy around the side of the busy building. “I need to get those lenses out of your eyes—”

  “But—”

  “Listen, just keep your eyes down and no one will notice, at least not until you want them to. If you see crimson robes, turn the other way.” Ziesqe glanced around before handing Andy a small bag of coins. “Spend it in the pursuit of our ultimate goal.”

  “But why?”

  Ziesqe shook his head. “You need to climb Panobscura Talionis,” he said, before pausing for a moment. “I believe they call it the Guilt now. Ask for directions. Or follow signs.”

  Andy stood in numb silence.

  “Climb the pillar. There are still pieces of Argument sitting in plain sight, though they are guarded. Ignore those, for they are paltry, and find a way to the Cogito, the largest of them all. You must take it. The Exegesuits will recognize your eyes, and if they suspect what you are doing, they will not hesitate to capture or kill you.”

  “This is what Zava asked me to do. You aren’t going to ask me to wear the Casque?”

  Ziesqe shook his head. “No. I foresaw the need for this action. What I did not foresee was your reasonable attitude.”

  Andy wondered if he hadn’t made a mistake.

  “What do I do? Once I take the Argument, I mean?”

  Ziesqe scoffed. “Stay alive.”

  Andy’s eyes widened.

  “Escape the Exegesuit guards, and don’t be bashful about using the Argument. You might want to keep an eye out for your holy symbols, which is why I am removing your lenses. Those symbols will have gone unnoticed, since your eyes were shielded, but once unmasked, you might see something.”

  That wasn’t reassuring.

  “How? How are we going to do this? It’s impossible. Even if I find a piece of Argument, how can we take the city peacefully?”

  Ziesqe blinked. “Your eyes see an insurmountable task.” Ziesqe paused, his face thoughtful. “My old master told me that true intelligence—its ability to see into the future, is as much a hindrance as it is an enabler. There are thousands of ryle bearing greater intelligence and capacity than mine, but where are they?”

  Andy scowled, uncertain of the answer.

  “They are hampered by the same foresight that has undercut you. You see the impossible mountain, where a simpler man only sees his foot taking a single step. In this way a thousand idiots will die scaling the mountain, all by accident, while the great intellect will sit at the base, decrying the task.”

  Captivated, Andy listened.

  “Only two types of people can scale the mountain. One: the thousandth idiot, who just by sheer accident, failed to fail. Or, two: that rarest of all types, the genius, who sees what is great in the idiot, and alloys it with the foresight of intellect. Do not fear the thousand steps; each one is simple to you. Do not let time flex and unfurl, like a dragon, to kill your resolve. Strike it down with a thousand fearless steps.”

  Andy was silent.

  “I will wait for an hour, every day at noon, by this building. Return to me, and we will take the next step.”

  Ziesqe took Andy by the shoulders and pointed him towards the pillar called the Guilt.

  “There is the first step. You will know what to do.”

  Chapter 2

  The Hunt

  Chimerax stared deeply into the sink hole. The thick jungle sat just back from the fissure, allowing intermittent light to shine down from above. He considered the fuzzy apes dogging him from the branches.

  My ryle is down there.

  He tasted the air and found the faintest hint of precursor. He had followed it for what felt like days, with the apes following and occasionally attacking.

  Here I find a sunken limestone cavern. It could be quite deep. But my hairy pursuers—are they mindful enough to collapse the entrance?

  Chimerax grinned, remembering his vast store of Counter and the godlike memory of one third of his persona.

  I’d hate to waste Counter blowing my way out from under ground. But, would it be a bigger waste to kill them all right now? The noise might alert my ryle, provided he’s still alive down there.

  Chimerax morphed into his bipedal form and walked the distance to the sink hole. The apes moved softly from tree to tree, not far behind.

  Chimerax relaxed his body and floated. He flexed two nerves in his hand and summoned light. Floating down into the cavern he saw no immediate trace of the ryle. He looked up at the breach, a
nd watched the silhouettes of the apes circle the hole. He waited for the sound of a crash but heard none.

  He descended to the bottom, which was lined with thick moss and livid with neon-colored frogs, who hopped away from the surprising new light source. Chimerax cast his eyes across the space, hunting for some detail.

  There.

  A sheet of moss atop a boulder had been ripped apart. Something had climbed there.

  He moved closer and saw more disturbed or crushed plant material.

  He’s here.

  Chimerax took a deep breath and worked through the many scents in the cave.

  There’s the precursor again, and—stale sweat.

  He flew towards the damage, following the trail, which led down a side cavern.

  Maybe it’s time for the Sight.

  Chimerax moved the Counter from his hand to his eyes, which now shone purple in the dark.

  No need for light.

  The cave all around took on the otherworldly wireframes of letters and numbers. Lights pulsed here and there as creatures moved in the darkness. He saw a swirl in the air. It told him that a draft was coming from the right.

  No, not a draft.

  He floated and followed the faint swirls.

  Tucked away between two boulders in the dark lay the bulbous and destroyed body of a once powerful ryle.

  The body still breathed, if slowly, perhaps in a comatose state.

  Chimerax saw the purple cord that ran through the ryle.

  He is drained of Counter, yet polluted with unrefined precursor. It’s keeping him alive, but he is barely cognizant. If he dies, the corruption will take his body and turn him into an abomination, like Xyth.

  “Ryle,” Chimerax spoke in the darkness.

  The ryle shuddered.

  “I spoke to your cobalt ravager. Even in death, the creature was loyal.”

  “Death dream, leave me in peace.”

  “What is your name?”

  The ryle coughed up a ragged laugh. “I speak to the shade of death, very well. I was once, Puktifa, a nothing ryle from a part of the scape that no longer exists. But, by the end, I was a General.”

  Chimerax tried not to laugh. “General of what?”

  Puktifa scoffed. “I built something few ryle would attempt, for fear of shame. I was a mercenary warlord. I lent my blade in dozens of campaigns before I finally settled a captured fortress when my employer couldn’t pay. My warriors do not call me lord and do not dress me in the morning. They are proud, like nothing you can imagine. I have earned the title.”

  “Well, General. Who would you fear most?”

  Puktifa’s eyes shot open. He heaved in a breath and tried to pull himself up against a boulder.

  “Don’t waste your energy. The precursor has almost turned you into a mindless husk.”

  “Did Ziesqe send you?”

  Chimerax was silent.

  “The bastard left us for dead—who are you? What is this place?”

  He’s feverish, barely alive.

  Chimerax gave the General a quick slap, but he continued to mutter and repeat the same questions.

  Nothing for it.

  Chimerax laid a hand on Puktifa and forced the taint out of his body, while gifting him a trace of pure Counter.

  The bulbous lumps on his body receded as a stream of black ink ran from the corner of his mouth.

  “General.”

  Puktifa coughed up more of the ink and slapped himself a few times to clear his head.

  “I’ve been talking—who’s there?”

  “The Maelstrom has come for you, General.”

  Puktifa reached for a weapon.

  “Please, don’t make me kill you, just to bring you back to life. It will only waste time.”

  “Fine. I knew this day would come. Any ryle can only climb so high before they are called. I’ve been afraid, till now.”

  Chimerax laughed. “You presume—many things. Let’s start with your plan. If it matches what I’ve learned, I’ll consider pulling your bloated corpse out of this hole.”

  Puktifa grimaced in the dark.

  “You said it yourself, they left you to die. There is no treason in speaking.”

  Puktifa sighed. “Ziesqe was the mastermind. The rest of us simply supplied our forces and capitol. The plan was originally a simple matter of applying pressure, in the form of the next Caspian, onto Xyth. We hoped that he would use his clout with the Maelstrom to have us overlooked for ascension to act as wardens for the boy. We also would have accepted the Xyth treatment.”

  “Xyth treatment?” Chimerax scoffed. “Xyth was an abort-ascend. That isn’t special treatment; he failed to endure the transcendence. His punishment was to rule, forever, in the scape.”

  “It doesn’t sound like punishment to all of us.”

  “I’ve looked into it, and it would seem that you had Caspian after all. How did that turn out?”

  Puktifa laughed, painfully. “He got loose. We thought he was just a boy, that even the Voice of the Dead God would be weak in such a young body. Boqreq knew though, he knew the plan would fail. He wanted to present the boy directly to the Maelstrom, but the rest of us were too fearful to enter the City.”

  “Tell me about your compatriots,” Chimerax said.

  Puktifa described the principal ryle of their organization. He mentioned Kal, Veloiz, Viqx, Boqreq, and Ziesqe, and what each brought to the table.

  “Ziesqe was the leader,” Chimerax mused.

  “In a sense. He brought us together, even though Boqreq was most senior in age.”

  “Resourceful oligarchy. A shame you played with fire. Do you want to know the sad truth, General?”

  Puktifa bowed his head, a shame filled curl to his tentacles.

  He already suspects.

  “The sad truth is that only two of your six were called to ascend. You were not one of them.”

  Puktifa was silent.

  “Everything you built is gone. Your warriors, who never dressed you in the morning, your magnificent ravagers, all ending in a fate worse than death.”

  “Go on then! Take me, or kill me!” Puktifa snapped.

  Chimerax chuckled. “I’m giving you a chance. A way to start again. All you have to do is tell me where your old compatriots are now. What was the backup plan? All generals plan for failure, plan a retreat. Have you done any less?”

  “It was a stupid alternative as well, and I don’t know if any of them survived Hyadoth. I might send you on a pointless chase.”

  “They escaped the city, by ravager.”

  Even though the cave was pitch black, Chimerax’s Sight discerned the questioning look on the General’s face.

  “An eyewitness account assures me.”

  Puktifa nodded, a look of admiration about his eyes. “Ah, the Maelstrom has its ways, unknown to mere spawn. The plan, in case of failure, was to retreat to Degoskirke, first for safety, and then to attempt capturing the city.”

  “Ludicrous.”

  “Indeed, it seems that way, but he has several options available for this plan. I would have opposed them all at the outset, as would Boqreq and Veloiz. Kal would have sided with Ziesqe, who impressed her so with his ambition. Viqx, of course, favored war in the first place. If they all survived, save my vote, they would likely have gone to Degoskirke. Ziesqe’s first plan, before we agreed to go to Xyth, was to use the boy, in any of various possible ways, to help subvert and conquer the city.”

  “I see. Could your combined forces have taken the free city?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Chimerax laughed. “Why not?”

  “I toured the city once, years ago and in disguise, but even then, I kept an eye on the local soldiery, their walls, and on the hotly contested sewers. Despite their apparent division, they would unite to fend off any ryle incursion. But more than that, the rogue brutox queens would be the most dangerous deterrent to any attack. They are the city’s true insurance.”

  Chimerax considered this. �
�I would agree. Even if all the ryle in Pansubprimus pooled their strength, it would still not be a certainty. What made Ziesqe so brave? You wouldn’t call him stupid, would you?”

  Puktifa scoffed. “Not that one. He has vision, and two primary plans. Both are largely the same, save one detail: who is in command of the boy’s body. If following the safer plan, he would use the boy to divide the secular city from the elements that still keep secret faith with the false-Argument. He planned to personally save Degoskirke from the boy, who would be motivated to cooperate and surrender at the opportune time. Then, before an attack, he would use local humans or goblins, or any mercenary that wasn’t a brutox, to round up the queens and kill them. If these coups were achieved, he would dash into the confused city and give them an apparent peace. This is the safer plan, less approved by Ziesqe, as it lacks the security of the other.”

  “It’s a shame; if he had succeeded without destroying Hyadoth, as putrid of a place as it was, he would have been rewarded by the Maelstrom.”

  “Wait until you hear the dangerous alternative,” Puktifa whispered.

  Chimerax was still and expectant.

  “If he runs out of options, or suspects that you are coming, he might repeat Hyadoth. If the boy doesn’t cooperate, or he believes that he has sufficient leverage, he will unleash the Usurper.”

  “You think he would have learned his lesson,” Chimerax said, growing disgusted at what he was hearing.

  “Ziesqe is afraid, but sure of his genius. He sees utility in the dangerous alternative. He will hide before summoning Caspian, hoping the Usurper will ravage Degoskirke, before turning on the City in the Sea, which rests not far. This will distract the Maelstrom from his treachery. He will rise from hiding, and using similar schemes, take the city. His reasoning: a weakened Maelstrom will more likely forget his failure in Hyadoth and allow him peace, governing a newly conquered Degoskirke. With this time, Ziesqe will contrive another crisis that only his continued existence can solve.”

  Chimerax considered this plan doubtful. “These are ill words,” Chimerax said. “Is there any evidence to verify what you have told me?”