Chapter 173: Arachnomachia

It was impossible, looking at Many-Legs, to assume that he had once been human. Some champions embraced the teachings of their masters but Many-Legs had gone a step beyond. He had not accepted the necessity of change. He had craved it, embraced it. He had forfeited his shape. He had forfeited his name. Eventually, he had gone so far as to forfeit speech and all the things that made him a person. All that was left behind was power, violence, and ambition.

 

The path to supremacy did not rely on others, or on concepts or methods, to Many-Legs. It only relied on the triumph of the fittest, and on such a world as Nyil, the fittest ought to be a true monster. Even his soul was now a twisted and piteous thing, so when he felt the touch of his goddess, he whimpered with pleasure.

 

It was time. Time to embrace his destiny. The forest of limbs on his thorax shivered when he accepted her caress, her blessing. He let her in, her perfect vessel, and together, they roared.

 

***

 

Hunger.

 

All that was left was hunger.

 

It could be directed. With some effort, it could be contained for a while, but it always returned and when it did, a frenzy overtook the Ravener, one that only flesh could satiate until it returned, stronger than ever.

 

Hunger.

 

One day, the Ravener had feared disease, an infection that crawled over her flank in a wave of constant, exhausting agony. The wound was open and fetid and bleeding pus, and it dug ever deeper. Fear of the inevitable had led her to a solution. It had been easy. The god had lent her enough strength to fetch the child of a neighbor — nasty little bully. He died quickly. She feasted on his meat for some time, made soup with his bones, but the meat ran out and the hunger came. The neighbor lost his wife but by then he was suspicious. A crowd ran her from her home. She walked the roads, hungry and questing for her next meal. She wasn’t sure when she had stopped looking like a person. Each feat had brought more strength, more resilience, more power but that power could only be put into service locating her next meal, so strong was the need. It gnawed at her day and night now.

 

It was almost a relief when the change took over. She let Gomogog seep into her flesh and allowed her psyche to dissolve into his warm embrace. An end, finally.

 

The large flesh walker leaned back from its stopped posture. Meat bubbled, defining bulbous muscles. Maws opened on the surface of its body. They wailed in unison.

 

***’

 

It burnt.

 

Just like the day the Wandering Lord had burnt his family. He’d survived because the ropes tying him had been too loose. His leg was just a chunk of pain where the dragon had torched him almost casually, in passing, as he was already defeated. The winter sea wasn’t enough to kill those flames. They burnt with a will of their own and Sai’s poor understanding of blue mana meant he was nearly defenseless.

 

It was always the same, always the damn same. The powerful destroyed casually, demolished everything in their path and they did it because they didn’t care. They knew with absolute certainty that they would get away with it. Who would stop them? Not Sai, with his year of gruesome, lonely training without resources, his years of effort to take vengeance against the Wandering Lord and his lackeys. Not Sai who’d fought every hour of his life against the tyranny of the uncaring. And now he was here again on a lonely rock surrounded by idiots and sycophants just for standing for what he knew was right.

 

A burst of agony made him delirious. The flesh-mending potion wasn’t working properly. Scarred, bruised flesh regrew in uneven patches where it regrew at all because he hadn’t cut away the burnt meat, and how could he? The pain. The atrocious pain.

 

It never changed.

 

No matter how hard he fought, the world didn’t change. It was always the same. It always followed the same rules. A fresh pang of agony tore at his mind. It was never going to change unless he did something drastic, something to even up the board. It didn’t matter that Octas won so long as the powers that be lost because it could not just… keep… happening.

 

He had to make a mark on history, remind rulers that they were not safe at the top. Every atrocity would be paid in blood if one had the will to sacrifice everything to make it happen.

 

And Sai was ready. Black, ichor-like liquid covered his limbs and silenced the pain. It flowed to form a mighty plate armor.

 

They were ready.

 

But… something felt wrong.

 

***

 

“I really thought we would have more time. Until tomorrow, maybe,” Viv said.

 

They would have to fight at sunset. Definitely not ideal. At least, Sardanal’s blessing kept everyone at peak condition, physically. It wasn’t just a boost that would be paid for later. She was genuinely feeling well-rested. Only the mental toll affected the others. Nevertheless, the sun was about to set and the thought of fighting incarnate dark gods during the night was… less than enchanting. And it was going to happen. She had seen Many-Legs turn into Octas’ incarnate. Everyone had seen it. There were not enough tall trees left on all of the island to mask that sort of transformation.

 

Even then, soldiers and militia members rushed to the walls, ate their bit of provisions, or sharpened their weapons one last time before the inevitable showdown. Women carried barrels of arrows and water to the crenelations while others tirelessly worked to craft more from the tips Emeric’s Girl had brought, and fresh wood grown by Sardanal. Viv watched the last preparations with some measure of detachment. This would be a fight of gods this time, but a few more arrows could not hurt. People needed to act, to feel useful in a time of crisis.

 

The walls were packed with warriors now. Viv had turned a ring around the city into a scene out of the deadlands so Octas’ harassing spiders could not get through. The effect would last until the battle started. Sardanal’s Cradle and its defenders had gotten the breather they desperately needed before the last big push, and that was what mattered.

 

Denerim and Orkan joined her on the battlements. The old inquisitor had brought her a cup of piping hot klod. Viv took a grateful sip and let the taste of the warm, mashed cereal distract her.

 

“I tested it for poison, by the way,” Denerim told her with a smile.

 

The inquisitor looked better than when she’d first arrived, though many of the defenders remained too thin. Orkan followed in subdued silence.

 

“Oh, I have this,” Viv said, pointing at a jewel hanging by her neck. “It’s a poison detector and canceller.”

 

“It looks expensive.”

 

“Gifted by Enttiku’s clergy, if you will believe it. I’ve made several weird friends in the past couple of years.”

 

“Do we qualify?” Orkan drawled.

 

“Let me think about it. Does the Hallurian deserter turned follower of the God of Righteous War standing on a wall in the middle of the ocean count? Hmmm.”

 

“Sarcasm doesn’t befit a ruler,” the man deadpanned.

 

“I’m a ruler so anything I do befits me. What are you gonna do?”

 

Orkan faked shock before turning to his mentor.

“Teacher, remind me again of your lesson on the nobility and sass.”

 

Denerim gave a long-suffering sigh though a smile creeped at the corner of his lips.

 

“My dear apprentice, you are unlikely to meet many Elemental archwitch empresses with sass during your life, and I simply urge you to follow advice number seven?”

 

“Always adapt to the circumstances…” Orkan grumbled.

 

“When not dealing with exceptions, you will find that my lessons will serve you well, my dedicated apprentice.”

 

“Technically I’m already a full-fledged Inquisitor,” Orkan informed Viv.

 

“Whatever my dedicated apprentice says.”

 

Viv chuckled. The warriors around her were relaxing, dispelling some of the dread hanging over the city.

 

“By the way, nice armor you have there,” Denerim added with some appreciation.

 

“Thank you! It has pockets and nice comfy boots. I insisted. The circlet is a stand-in until I can get a huge crown made instead.”

 

“Really love the dread lord city-destroyer aesthetics you have going on,” Orkan added.

 

“What is the ninth rule, my apprentice?”

 

“Deception is as powerful as a blade,” Orkan groaned again.

 

“Now Viv can confuse the servants of the dark gods by wielding destruction more effectively than they can. Devious.”

 

“I have been called devious on occasion,” Viv conceded. “And yes I picked a dress to impress. This is a battlefield!”

“Indeed,” Orkan agreed. “And in Halluria, there is a tradition, sometimes. Ah. I think it’s a good one.”

 

His hesitation stopped when he saw there were no hostile reactions. Hallurian culture was looked down upon on most of the continent but she was beyond that.

 

“As you know, we don’t travel much. Only a few privileged people get to travel and it’s always a risky endeavor, because distant cities don’t always respect agreements. On the eve of a… a difficult battle, the weathered travelers would sometimes share tales of places people wouldn’t otherwise get to see. I know this because one of the old gladiators, well…”

 

“I would love to hear about Earth,” Denerim said.

 

“Hmmm.”

 

It was a good point. She’d shared stuff with Sidjin and Solfis but never with the others. She also realized Denerim was speaking in the northern tongue. She’d assumed it was out of courtesy as most of their side understood that tongue, but perhaps there was more to it. Many of the soldiers surrounding them were moving more slowly now, and the hushed conversations had stopped. People were studiously not looking at her.

 

She considered talking about cities but it would require dazzling people with descriptions of technology and… perhaps it wasn’t the best choice here and now. Instead, she considered another option. A warmer one.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

 

“There is a place far to the north called the Island of Ice. There, the burning heart of the planet was close to the surface, and many volcanoes made this place their home.”

 

“Volcano?” some asked.

 

“A fire mountain,” someone else whispered. “Shhh!”

 

“We decided to visit there with my family. My father, mother, little brother and I traveled there, then we moved around with a marvelous piece of technology that moves without horses. Like a mana-powered carriage!”

 

“Ooooh.”

 

“The Island of Ice was a wonderful and unique place, with great waterfalls and beaches of black sand decorated with blue ice. The people were warm and welcoming. I remember once we went alone through a black landscape at the feet of a dormant volcano. The mountain pierced the air with strangely shaped stones while black dust clung to our wheels. It was an alien landscape under a gray sky unlike anything I had ever experienced, and for the first time I accepted that there might be other worlds out there and that perhaps, some of us may walk them – though I never imagined it would be me!”

 

A few people chuckled.

 

“We were mercifully alone which made the experience that much more surreal. I remember my tracks in the dust, but then I turned around and saw my family all gathered here pointing at many things. My brother was grumpy, of course, as he was thirteen at the time and angry at the entire world.”

 

“Seems humans are the same everywhere!”

 

“And while watching that strange place, I noticed small, green spots all around. We were visiting in early spring and life was already returning to this inhospitable place. The air was crisp and cool. Wind blew and sent all those little tufts of grass aflutter and reminded me of the life that would soon bloom again. We had a great time and then we left to visit hot springs. Those are like naturally warm baths in open air.”

 

“I could use a bath right now,” Orkan said.

“We all could. Thanks for the story.”

 

Around them, people were smiling.

 

“Actually…”

 

Viv used a few illusion spells to show a few of her memories. Iceland. Her family. People took turns watching things about Earth and commenting on windows making places too indefensible against errant beastlings. The islanders were particularly interested in catamarans. Viv intentionally walked around to show the images until people were distracted enough to relax. She eventually made her way back to Denerim as he was finishing a wrap.

 

“I think I distracted everyone thoroughly enough.”

 

The inquisitor took a few blissful seconds to savor the last of the meal, which Viv was ok with.

 

“Thank you. Now I think…”

 

Far in the distance, at the base of the slope, something was coming. The avatar of Octas was not there yet but the spiders that she controlled were already crawling up the slope.