Brax's yanked back on the reins of his horse and clenched his knees, trying to keep himself in the saddle as the horse reared backwards, hooves flashing in the air. To his left, Vazt brought his horse around and drew his sword in the same fluid motion, bringing the point aiming towards the woman who had just appeared from thin air before them. The quartet had been traveling from the City of the Dead Gods for the better part of a day, working their way along the abandoned trade route that once snaked through the Basilisk Desert. The wells had run too dry to support the towns that had served as stopping points, but there were ways to find water even in the deep desert, so long as your numbers were few and you did not mind the taste of cactus.
It was not a place one expected to meet anyone, let alone…
Brax blinked.
The woman stood up and looked around herself.
She was…
“Beautiful,” Brax whispered, his heart and his tail stilled for a single long moment as the woman shook her head.
She was an elf, with long, pointed ears and electric blue hair that she had let grow long. But to keep it from her eyes, she had it tied back in a ponytail that hung to the small of her back. Her shoulders were slender and her arms were lightly muscled, but she still held herself like a warrior. She was dressed in a bronze hauberk that protected her chest, and had a kilt that hung loose around her thin thighs. Her feet were clad in sandals. A straight sword hung from her hip. Or, more accurately, a scabbard hung from her hip, as she had stood up with the sword in her hand.
“Who the fuck are you?” she snarled, looking at Brax. Brax looked at his companions, then at the woman.
“Well, we are but humble travelers,” he said, his hand going to the small amulet that God had given him and the group. He didn't quite know how, but the amulet made him and the others seem like humans, though to his own eye and his own senses, Brax still was the same gold-scaled lizardman he had been for years. He slid his leg off his horse and gestured to Vazt and Anix and both soldiers sheathed their weapons with a grudging look. “I would ask who you were, but...” Brax grinned. “I'm more curious how I was so lucky as to have a woman as beautiful as you fall into my lap.”
The woman grinned.
“I can answer that.”
All five of them spun around to face the sudden booming voice.
Floating above the desert was a heavily muscled, heavily armored figure, wearing a horned helmet – the horns curved down and coiled before the thin rectangular slit that was the only opening on the bone-white metal. A long, brilliant red cape flapped from the god's shoulders as he looked down at the group of them.
“Dad!?” The woman spluttered.
Ah, Brax thought. So this is the famous Liviana of Sparta. Funny. He glanced at her. I thought she would have been taller.
“Silence, daughter,” Ares, the god of war, boomed. “I am deeply disappointed in you. First, you get yourself captured-”
“He had a-”
“Silence,” Ares bellowed. Liviana shut up. Shaking his helmeted head, Ares looked back at Brax and his men and women. “I have redirected my wayward daughter here. You are to keep watch over her and teach her proper discipline. If you let her from your sight, then I will crush you. Do you understand?”
Brax clenched his jaw before he responded with the first thing that came to his mind. But the last thing that he wanted while on a fool's errand was to get caught up in the family drama of the infamously dramatic Dodekatheon. But looking at Ares and feeling the raw, crackling energy emanating from his body, he knew that sometimes, discretion was the better part of valor.
And does that not define most of my fucking life? He thought.
“I do,” he said.
Ares nodded and then - with a crack of imploding air – vanished. Brax frowned slowly, his tail beginning to lash. The gods, he had always been told, needed to go from place to place. They could project images of themselves at great distance, but they were loath to do so. Sympathetic magic could use an image as well as the object it represented. There was a reason why gods had messengers and diplomats, and did not merely directly interact with one another. Brax rubbed his chin with one finger, then shook his head. It was a mystery for another day.
He turned to face Liviana.
She glared daggers at him.
“My name is Bartentonen. These are my traveling companions, Vesalius and Anathestus. And, of course, Rachel.”
Rao bowed her head to Liviana, and waved. Rao, like Vazt and Anix, looked completely human to everyone else, thanks to the last of the amulets given over by God. Not that she had wanted to wear the damn thing. She had argued that, as a lilin, she didn't need an amulet. But Brax had figured that being cautious would pay off. Plus, in some areas of Purgatory, lilin were seen as perfect brothel fodder, and the last thing he wanted to do was deal with overeager pimps and their goons.
Liviana pursed her lips for a moment, then grinned, looking straight at Brax.
“So,” she said, “What are your real names? Cause I've never met a lizardman named Barentonen.”
Brax tensed, his tail freezing. Then, calmly, he asked: “How?”
Liviana snorted, quietly. “You may look human, but you sway,” she said. “It's subtle, but easy to spot if you have practice. And he's wearing a kilt without underwear on a horse.” She pointed at Anix. Anix looked down at himself, then at her.
“It’s in how the fabric lays across your hips,” Liv said, tossing her head as she answered his unspoken question. “I’m an elf. And I’ve spent most of my life noticing small disturbances under clothes. It tends to mean that someone is armed. Now, going commando would work if you had internal genitalia – which lizardfolk do.” She frowned. “My father has been involved with several pieces of massive bullshit, all of them too sneaky by half. Now he's redirecting the devices of the Ancients? Vanishing from plain sight as if he had the same magic?”
She stepped forward, her sword tip aiming at Brax's chest.
“Who do you work for, scalie?”
Brax sighed, quietly. “Liviana, I have nothing but respect for you, and nothing but contempt for the institution of slavery.”
Liviana looked confused, then her eyes widened. She flung herself to the side, but Rao was infamously good at throwing things. Knives. Bottles of acid. Once, in a happier time, a very surprised cat.
Slave collars.
The weighted collar snapped around Liviana's throat, snapping home, then flashing as the magic within flared to life. Her hands went to her throat and her screech echoed across the desert.
“Not a-fucking-gain!”
* * *
Liam was expecting the fall so when he landed on his feet, he ended up tucking and rolling anyway. He lay on his back for a few moments and mentally kicked himself, his eyes closed as he breathed in the smell of dust, the smell of the desert filling his nose. It was a lot more unpleasant than he had expected. There was a sickly sweetness to it, thick and cloying. Iron, too. The scent of voided…
Wait.
Liam's eyes opened and he scrambled away from the corpse hanging over him. He bumped against Meg's belly, the other woman hissing curses in Greek.
The two of them had appeared in a field – a forest – of crucifixes. Dozens of people were nailed through the wrist to broad crossed planks of wood, their feet dangling in the air. Their heads were lolled forward, and several of them were starting to rot. The buzzing of flies filled the air, flying away at the sudden motion from Liam and Meg. Blood dripped from a few of the bodies, soaking into the rough dust of the desert ground. Liam covered his face with one hand, trying to block out the smells. He shook his head slowly.
“God.”
Meg squeezed his shoulders.
A loud crack sounded as Tethis appeared behind them.
“See, told you it'd – holy shit!” She stopped dead, dropping her shoulder pack to the ground.
Liam stood, his knees shaking. He looked at the bodies, trying to identify any unifying theme among them. But there were people of every race, and he saw that several of them were still bearing the religious symbols of different gods. He saw the hammer-symbol of Thor, the eye of Ra, and many others. He walked slowly along the rows, frowning as he looked up at a beautiful lilin woman who had been nailed into place. His brow furrowed slightly further – she was dressed with a black hood, and thin strips of cloth that barely concealed her breasts and her sex, leaving most of her red skin exposed. The hood seemed familiar, somehow…
But then he saw what hung around her neck.
Liam's eyes widened.
“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no, no, no, that's impossible.”
Suddenly the lilin woman drew in a shuddering gasp, her head rolling back slightly and her eyes opening to thin slits. Liam sprang backwards as if he had been stuck with a pin, his heart pounding. The woman managed to look winsome and unconcerned with herself, despite being nailed to a plank and left to die under the baking sun.
“Come to... watch me... die?” she whispered, between ragged, ineffectual gasps.
“G-Get her down. Now!” Liam said, looking at Meg. “Now! Now!”
Meg did him one better. She sprang up, and punched through the planks with two quick chopping gestures, her incredible strength snapping pine as if it was balsa wood held together with half a glue-stick. The lilin woman sagged and Liam and Tethis both helped her down to the ground. Laying on her back, her arms still nailed to the wood, the red-skinned, horned and tailed woman drew in deep, gasping breaths.
And there, laying between her breasts, was the symbol she had worn to her death.
A pair of lines, interweaving to create the vague impression of a fish.
It was an ichthus.
A symbol of Jesus Christ.
* * *
“My name is Mary.”
Liam looked out of the cave that Tethis had spotted, watching the City of the Dead Gods. They were a good three miles away from the city, on a bluff that overlooked the place. The collection of crucifixes – what Mary called the forest of woe – were still visible even in the darkness of night. But even from this distance, he could see just how much bigger it was than Olimurias. It reminded him of looking at New York after a lifetime of suburbia, though not quite on the same scale. Dotted among the buildings and visible above the winding curtain wall that surrounded the city were towering pillars of smoke.
Forge fires.
Mary's voice was still rough and raspy, despite the water that Meg had been giving her. Her wrists lay in her lap, turned upwards, as Tethis worked on them. Magic glowed along her palms,caressing and sealing the wounds. Veins were illuminated from within by the pale white light of magical healing as Tethis burned any infection from her. Tethis' forehead furrowed and her body glistened with sweat, but she made no sound of complaint, nor did she stop her work.
“I was – I am a nun,” Mary said, her hand going to the hood. She pushed it backwards. “My order – the Sisterhood of the Son – we've lived in Purgatory since its inception. Why we were banished here, I do not know.” She shook her head. “The legends say that we came with the others who were banished here because even if the followers of the false gods must be placed here, that does not mean that they should go without the teachings of Mary and her Son.”
Liam nodded and knelt down beside Mary. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Questions buzzed through his brains – millions of them. He wanted to know who had founded her order. What were their scripture? Had they taken the ecumenical councils words as writ, or had they ignored the orthodoxy of the age? How had their beliefs changed? Why did they still use the ichthus as their primary symbol and not the cross? Did that mean that their view on the sacrifice of Jesus Christ was changed? How were women treated by their priesthood? Could they only be nuns? How many of them were lilun? What was the racial breakdown? What was their stance on alms and indulgences? Did they even know what indulgences were? Those had been concepts from the church's future – but then again, so had nuns.
In fact, now that he thought about it, the first nuns he had ever heard about had happened a full century after the banishment.
Unless…
Liam shook his head and focused on the here and now. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “My name is Liam. Uh. Liam Vanderbilt.”
Great opening, part of his brain muttered.
“Liam is also Christian,” Meg said, quietly.
Mary looked at Liam. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth – then winced in pain as her movement jarred her arms. Tethis hissed quietly, the closest she had ever come to snapping at a patient. Liam nodded at Mary.
“Yeah,” he said. “I'm from Earth. I came here by accident – uh, wow. I...” He stopped. “I have so many questions but we have so little time. Why were you being crucified? Who is ruling the city?”
Mary frowned. “They came to us almost two months ago. They looked, at first, like a normal merchant caravan. The gates were flung open to let in the new traders – though people did say at the time how odd it was, that they came from the desert. None of the outriders had noticed them. It was as if…” She trailed off, her eyes becoming distant. “It was as if they had come from nowhere. Then they were in the city and the attack began. They were lizardmen but not like any lizardmen we had seen before.”
Liam leaned back on the ground. “Like mutants? They had bulbous heads and could call down lightning?”
“No!” Mary said. “That, we could have handled, I think. The City of the Dead Gods have been training as many arcane mages as possible, since the first news of them came from the Library of Olimurias.”
Tethis drew her palms back. “The sickness is burned out of you,” she said, smiling. “And, uh, I was the one who discovered the art.” She grinned. “And Liam is the reason why the textbooks have reached here so quickly – he gave them the art to build printing presses.”
Mary smiled. “Thank you for that, Mister Vanderbilt,” she said, quietly. “But the lizardmen actually had no mutant sorcerers. The only magic came from our own defenders.”
“Then what made them different?” Liam asked.
“They fought like, well, men. Organized men. Ruthless men. I heard this from a soldier I nursed, well, afterward,” Mary said, ducking her head forward. She wiped at her eye with one finger, tears gleaming in her eyes. “He died. But he told me such stories – and jokes.” She shook her head. “He said that the lizardmen knew exactly where to attack. How to outflank the soldiers. How to breech the defenses. They captured and killed most of the mercenary units and before we knew it, we were all slaves. Of him.”
“Of who?” Liam asked, a terrible fear filling him.
Mary looked at him. Her eyes brimmed with yet more tears and her voice became ragged. “Of... God, Liam. Of God.”
* * *
Meg brushed her hands through her hair. “So, here's what we have,” she said. “My javelins, Tethis' spells, your iPod and sword, and our coin purses.” She put her palms on the pack that she had carried with her through the teleport altar. “And this. What we're lacking, though, is a Liviana. Why is that, Tethis?”
Tethis shook her head as she rolled the crystal foci that she used when trying to accomplish the more complex spells in her repertoire between her palms. She pursed her dark green lips, then rolled her shoulders in a shrug.
“No idea,” she said. “If anyone was going to go off target, I would have expected it to be Liam.”
“Hey,” Liam said, trying for a grin. His smile faded instead – his eyes darted from the backpack that Meg's hands rested on to Mary, who was curled up underneath a blanket, her eyes closed. She had been healed, but the healing had left her body worn out. She'd need to wake before they headed for the city. The last thing Liam planned to do was head into a dangerous and hostile city without a guide – even if said guide had been crucified for religious heresy. It was one of those situations that felt like two shitty choices and he had to pick the less shitty one.
Meg shook her head. “Maybe we'll find Liv in the city. Maybe we'll need to hire a diviner. But Liv's tough, and we can find her when we find her. What's important is I brought this.”
Liam's eyes widened as Meg flipped open the pack, then tugged the cloth and leather aside to reveal that she had been toting around a thigh sized canister of bronze bars and wooden slats. It looked like a barrel, though several crystals had been hammered into the top, the bottom, and the sides. Meg's fingers caressed one of the crystals, causing it to shimmer faintly with the contact. She grinned at Liam. “That's why Maurice was visiting, you know. It wasn't because of my tits.”
“Huh,” Liam said. “I mean, I find that hard to believe.”
“Fair,” Meg said. “It wasn't just because of my tits.”
“What is it?” Tethis whispered.
“It's a gunpowder bomb,” Meg said. “Maurice actually told me, pre-titjob, that the issue wasn't the gunpowder.” She shrugged. “It's the using it as a weapon. Sobek wants muskets but the metals we have here burst when gunpowder burns through it. Maurice did some testing with crystals and found that when they explode, the explosion gets bigger.” She grinned. “He worked this up and I asked if I could borrow it.”
Liam slowly pursed his lips. “Asked?”
Meg grinned. “Very politely.”
“You stole a gunpowder bomb from Sobek?” Tethis whispered. “Why?”
“A valkyrie flew through the edge of the sun to warn us about an insane god. Note, Liam,” she said, holding up one finger, “That I'm using god with a lower case G.” She shook her head – so serious that Liam had to smile despite his mood. “And if we're going to kill a god-”
“We're going to do what now?” Tethis asked, her eyes wide. “I thought we were just here to find out what is going on.”
“Yeah, and then we're going to kill the bad guy. And this bad guy-” Meg jerked her thumb over her shoulder, folding her wing against her back so she could gesture to the city. To the rising pillars of smoke, illuminated from within by flickering ash. To the forest of crucifixes. “-this bad guy isn't like the last one. Remember that bitch, Bryn? She was hidden behind, like, three levels of secrets, minions and lies. This guy? He sticks up a big old sign saying blow me up please.”
She thumped her palm into the bomb.
Liam looked at the bomb.
He looked out at the city.
He grinned. “Meg, have I ever mentioned that you always manage to cheer me up?”
“Three times a day,” she said, happily. “But I do love hearing it.”
Then it was suddenly daybreak.
Liam could remember, almost as if it were a dream, what it was like to watch dawn on Earth. The slow shading of colors, the gathering light, the gentle push from dreams to wakefulness. Purgatory didn't have that. Instead, the night went from the deepest, blackest darkness to the blazing light of the noonday sun with a sudden crash. Mary jerked up and out of her bedroll, her tail lashing erratically as she reached outwards – as if she was trying to ward off attackers. She blinked a few times, kicking herself against the wall of the cave.
“Hey, it's okay,” Liam said, holding up his hand.
Mary panted for a few moments – then stood up. She brushed her palms along her butt and shook her head. Her breathing slowed. Her tail slowed. Liam bit his lip slightly as he watched her getting more and more settled. He had to wonder about those clothes. Christianity was more... restrained... than some other religions. Like all things, the actual history of the Church and sexuality was long and complicated, but in general, it shook out to being more abstention than wild, paganistic orgies.
So…
Why the hell was Mary dressed in what amounted to a fetish nun outfit for a world without latex?
Seeing his look, Mary frowned. “What?” she asked.
“I, uh, was just wondering about your outfit,” Liam said. “But we can talk on the road. Are you willing to head back to the City of the Dead Gods?”
Mary blinked at him, those beautiful, golden eyes of hers filling with confusion. “You are going there? But...” She shook her head. “Are you mad? There's an army of lizardmen there. God is there!”
“Yeah,” Liam said. “And we're going to blow him up.”
* * *
“So, disguises.”
“We need disguises?” Liam asked, looking back over his shoulder. This wasn't as useful as it could have been, as Tethis was standing at his side and remained three feet tall. He lifted one arm to look down at her as she stepped past him to glare down at the City of the Dead Gods. She didn't respond for a few moments, green finger rubbing her chin.
“Oh, yes,” she said.
“We're on the other side of the world,” Liam said. “And this isn't Earth – no photography, no internet.”
Tethis looked at him. “A flaxen haired giant of a man, easily a head taller than every single other person in Purgatory not named Thor, bearing a glowing magical longsword made a metal that only exists in the ancient depths of antiquity, accompanied by the most beautiful valkyrie-”
“Aww, thanks Tethis!” Meg called from the back of the cave, where she was busily packing up their supplies.
“-anyone's ever seen, you're welcome Meg.” Tethis sighed. “And we're a good month's sailing away from any jungles, so people might even notice that a goblin's with you.” She smiled slightly. “And let's not even forget that our guide was crucified by these people.”
“If it helps,” Mary said, her voice soft as she stepped up to stand beside the two of them, her fingers laced together, “I wasn't targeted specifically.” Her fingers went to the ichthus that hung from around her neck. “I mean, no more or less so than everyone else in my city block. We were all declared saboteurs and heretics.”
“Were you actually saboteurs?” Liam asked.
Mary shrugged. “Is it sabotage if a smith breaks a bronze blade slightly more than he should otherwise? Is it sabotage if carriages are crashed by inattentive drivers and stock is stolen because guards pay little heed? Is it sabotage if alchemists go to bed early and waken late?” She spread her hands. “I think it can only be expected, when you are forced to worship a false god at spear tip.”
Liam smiled. “You seemed to think he wasn't so false last night.”
Mary frowned. “I have...” She paused. “Reconsidered my opinions.”
“Why's that?” Tethis asked but she sounded like she was only half listening. Her eyes were affixed on the distant city. She looked speculative.
“Well,” Mary said. “You are here, are you not?” She smiled at Liam. “With your godkiller?”
“Oh, we are so calling it that,” Meg said as she came to the front of the cave as well. Their belongings had been packed into a trio of backpacks, with the heaviest gear loaded into Meg's pack, which she had looped around her shoulders, the pack containing a frame that gave her wings clearance. It wasn't enough to let her fly freely, but she could at the very least do a bit of aerial maneuvering. “We're calling it that, right Liam?”
“I was going to call it Little Boy, but that should do,” Liam said.
“Little Boy?” Mary's brow furrowed. Meg, though, punched Liam in the shoulder.
“What's the rule?” she asked.
“No naming things after Earth things unless they also sound cool,” Liam said, rubbing his shoulder. Meg had put slightly more force in that punch that she did sometimes. He could almost feel a bruise there.
“Exactly. Little Boy,” Meg said, scoffing. “Godkiller is much more dignified.”
“So, Tethis, have you figured out a spell to disguise us?” Liam asked.
“I don't think I can,” Tethis said. The she frowned at the fact Meg and Liam both looked disappointed. “I'm a healing wizard. Doing basic energy channeling is one thing, but creating raw illusions out of thin air? Extremely complex ones like making you not look like you? That's a bit beyond me, no matter how despondent you look.”
“Well, you're a biomancer,” Meg said. “Why don't you just change us physically?”
Tethis rubbed the bridge of her nose with one finger. “Yes, that's much easier. And all the mass you would need to lose to hide those wings will just vanish won't it, because it's magic, we don't have to actually do any work.” She muttered similar things under her breath as Meg sent Liam a wounded expression.
“Well, why not a glamor?” Liam asked.
“What part of raw illusions-”
“No, not an illusion. Don't make us look like anything. Just tap into the part of someone's brain that says that things are normal and rub it.” Liam nodded. “Most of the things people see are approximations based off what their brain expects to be there, right? Take advantage of that with your biomantic manipulations.” He wiggled his fingers at those last two words. Meg nodded eagerly, using one wing to hug Liam's shoulder.
“That...” Tethis paused. “That could work.”
“Robes too,” Mary said. “To make us less distinct.”
Liam gave Mary the thumbs up. She looked somewhat taken aback, her brow furrowing as she looked at the lifted thumb. Liam lowered his hand, kicking himself. Right. Different cultures. Tethis, though, had pulled out her crystal foci. She tossed it from hand to hand, then got to work. Drawing magic into herself took a few moments of focusing, then shaping it and throwing it around the four of them was a matter of minutes. The glowing diagrams that she painted into the air were oddly curved and sinuous, rather than the more geometric patterns that she normally used. Once she had finished creating the patterns, there was a loud crack and the patterns vanished.
“Did it work?” Meg asked.
“We'll know when we get there,” Tethis said as she pulled a set of robes from her pack. “When they stab us.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Liam said, pulling his own robe on – then taking out a spare. “Mary's already shown, they'll torture us first.”
Mary didn't look amused. She took the robe and held it up, her golden eyes narrowing as she gritted her teeth. “I hate wearing these things,” she said. Liam looked from the robe to the outfit she was in. He looked back at the robes.
Mary saw his look and frowned at him. “What?”
“W-Well, I'm not trying to denigrate your order, Sister Mary,” Liam said, trying to sound respectful. “But on Earth, nuns don't, uh, wear that.” He coughed. “People who, uh, pretend to be nuns do. For, uh, reasons.” Mary's eyes narrowed. Then she scowled, her fangs flashing.
“Lilin are hot, Mister Vanderbilt,” she said, thrusting her thumb to the cleft between her breasts, touching the thin leather strap that crisscrossed her chest.
“You can say that again,” Meg murmured in his ear.
“No, I mean, we're-” Mary shook her head. “We're physically hot!” Thin streams of smoke were starting to trickle from underneath her black hair as her tail lashed from side to side. “I don't wear this because I want to flaunt my body, I wear it because if I don't wear this, I drop from heat stroke before the twelve bell!”
Liam held up his hands. “Whoa, sorry. I didn't know. And I didn't mean to be offensive. Honest.”
Mary shook her head, then threw the robes on over her head. She squirmed, wriggled, then got her arms through the sleeves. Her tail bunched up under the back and she writhed her hips from side to side, trying to get it comfortable. Liam stepped over, pulling a knife. “Here,” he murmured, grabbing the robe, then carefully slicing a thin slit in the fabric. He tried to not loom over Mary but just standing near her made his head spin slightly. His nose flared and he breathed in her smell. It wasn't the scent of someone who had been staked out in the desert and left to die. It was a smell that reminded him of spas and saunas and massage parlors. Scented oils and spices. His cock hardened against his pants and he found himself leaning into her presence slightly. Her tail emerged from the hole he had cut, prodding him in the chest.
“Do remember I am a midwife of the Holy Mother, Mister Vanderbilt,” she said, her voice stiff.
Liam nodded, stepping back. He might have personal disagreements with the chastity demanded by certain sects of his faith but he also knew the difference between having a belief and being a bigot.
The latter forced the former on others, at the end of the day.
Of course, there are some beliefs that should be forced on others, an argumentative part of his brain muttered. Like, say, women have equal rights, being racist is bad, democracy is good, and so on. Wait, can you force that kind of belief? No, now that I think about it. But you can protect the right to have it, I suppose. Also, fortunately, most people who are against those things are also inclined to enforce their views with swords. And it is acceptable to kill them if they try and kill you first.
Liam paused in his considerations.
Holy shit, I miss Facebook. I need people to debate who don't just agree with me or distract me with their boobs.
He shook his head, gesturing to his friends. Attired in glamors and in robes, the quartet set out for the City of the Dead Gods.