Scion of the Serpent: Anok, Heretic of Stygia Volume I Read online

  Anok’s eyes widened.

  His body tensed.

  The wall seemed to collapse, like a block of mountain ice turning into water. It formed a squirming, surging wave of snakes that threatened to engulf Anok.

  His duckwalk was too slow. He dropped down on all fours, the loop on the candleholder slipping over one thumb, and scrambled down the tunnel like an animal, fleeing the rustling horror that he could hear literally snapping at his heels.

  He turned the corner and saw the first vertical air shaft ahead.

  Maybe it would stop them. Maybe it would slow them down.

  He bounded over the opening, but his hopes were dashed as he glanced back. The snakes’ long bodies easily bridged the gap. It barely slowed them down.

  There was only one thing to do. Retrace his steps as quickly as possible, without caution or concern for noise, and hope that the squirming horror wouldn’t follow beyond the air shafts that were apparently their home.

  He scrambled down the shaft, the sputtering candle attached to his hand continuously threatening to go out.

  Then he heard the dry rustling noise—

  Ahead!

  He held the candle higher, to see a second wave of snakes approaching from both directions!

  Just ahead was the opening to a vertical shaft. He straddled it, his back against the wall, watching the snakes rapidly closing in from either direction.

  The smooth stone offered no place to attach his grapple, or tie the rope. There were only seconds left anyhow. No time!

  The fall would definitely at least break both legs. More probably his neck, which would be infinitely preferable to the horrible death that swept in on him like ocean waves.

  He braced himself, mentally preparing for the slight inward twist of his feet that would send him plunging down the shaft to his doom.

  The terrible reality of his decision washed over him. I’m going to die.

  Still, he couldn’t make his feet move. Instead, he held out his hands, palms outward, and in a gesture of futility hissed, “Stop!”

  A flash of light filled the tunnel.

  —a flash of light that seemed to originate from—the palms of his hands?

  Silence, but for the fading echo of his own voice.

  Silence.

  The snakes weren’t moving.

  Anok blinked.

  A choking gasp of relief emerged from his throat.

  From far below his feet, he heard a voice. “Did you hear that?”

  “I heard something.”

  “You think the snakes got somebody?”

  A silent pause. “There would be screaming if they did.” Laughter. “It takes a while. Probably they just got a rat or something.”

  “I thought I heard someone say, ‘stop.’ ”

  Louder laughter. “As if that would deter the Fingers of Set! It’s a rat, I tell you. Come. Perhaps we should check in on the virgins down in the sacrificial cells.”

  The voices grew fainter. “Well, they’d best stay virgins, or it’ll be us on the altar next Festival . . .”

  Anok crouched, motionless, trying to figure out what had just happened.

  The snakes were still there, still alive. In each direction they lay, a motionless, knee-high carpet on the tunnel floor, regarding him with countless pairs of blind, pink eyes.

  They weren’t killing him, but they weren’t going away either.

  The palms of his hands tingled, and the blood-soaked spot on his skin burned.

  What had just happened? Sorcery?

  That wasn’t possible. He was no sorcerer, no wizard, no cult priest. He was Anok, a simple warrior of the slums. I don’t do sorcery!

  Yet something had happened to save him. Something extraordinary.

  Parath! The so-called lost god had promised that it would help him if it could. He’d almost forgotten that promise, perhaps never really believed it. Certainly, it had seemed a hollow promise at the time.

  But it was the only explanation. He hadn’t performed the sorcery; it was the old god acting on his behalf.

  But the snakes were still here, and at the moment, his only way out was still the vertical shaft. He considered a plan to put one of his swords across the opening and hook the grappled to that. Would it support his weight without breaking?

  Still the snakes didn’t move. What are they waiting for? Well, perhaps there was another way. He stepped back across the air shaft, back toward his original destination. He held up his hand. “Back,” he said quietly.

  To his amazement, the snakes turned and began to slither away from him! He smiled, almost giggled. Even if he was just channeling the power of the old god, it was intoxicating. Was that what it was like to be a sorcerer?

  He began to move back down the tunnel. The snakes moved away even faster, heading off in both directions from the branch in the passage. There seemed be fewer of them as they traveled, and he occasionally began to notice one slithering away into some tiny crack or gap in the stone. As he neared the end of the shaft, the last of them was gone, as though they’d never been there at all.

  Ahead, he caught sight of a grating and reluctantly doused the candle. He reached the grate and peered out through the narrow holes at the night sky. He’d traveled completely across the temple, and probably a third of its length. Knowing how it worked, he had little trouble swinging open the grate and finding a secure place outside to attach the grapple.

  As expected, he could just see a ledge below him in the starlight. He’d climb down there, then rig a hidden coil of rope that could later be pulled down to the plaza from below. On his next visit he would have but to pull down the rope and shinny up. Easy.

  Next time he would go much deeper into the temple.

  Next time he would find Dejal.

  As he prepared to climb down a second rope to the plaza, he happened to glance at his hands. They still tingled, and as he moved them, he could see little pinpoints of light in the skin, as though he’d ripped down a little fragment of the night sky and held it in his hands.

  Sorcery!

  He still couldn’t believe it.

  15

  TEFERI PACED THE length of the Nest, then turned to face Anok. “Sorcery,” he announced firmly, “is never good fortune.”

  Anok sat at the table, contemplating the jeweled eyes of the serpent ring he had taken from the temple. The ring rested on top of an inverted drinking cup in the middle of the table, where a beam of light from one of the small, high windows illuminated it perfectly. The ring was heavy, solid gold, and would doubtless fetch a fair price at market, assuming the obvious connection to the cult didn’t spook any buyer. Perhaps we should melt it down ourselves and simply sell the gold and loose jewels.

  “Anok!” There was irritation in Teferi’s voice. “Are you listening to me?”

  He looked up. “Of course I am. You said something about sorcery and good fortune.”

  “I said that sorcery is never good fortune!”

  “A few days ago I might have agreed with you. But without sorcery, I would never have lived though the night. We wouldn’t be having this talk.”

  “Don’t forget, it’s sorcery at the root of your troubles in the first place. Did I not tell you what was passed down to me through my ancestors? Sorcery and magic corrupt the user’s spirit, sometimes the body as well.”

  It was Anok’s turn to sound annoyed. “The magic wasn’t my doing, Teferi. It was the old god.”

  “This Parath you told me about. I am curious why you didn’t choose to share this with me before.”

  “I said there were gods in the desert. I didn’t hide that from you.”

  “If you believe his words, a fallen god. An exiled god. A god at war with both Ibis and Set. His enemies will become your enemies, Anok!”

  “Set is already my enemy.”

  “You are enemy to Set. But until you harm Set, you could hope to be beneath the snake-god’s notice. Now you may have marked yourself, and if the Cult of Set determines to crush
you, it will.”

  “Parath will protect me. I see that now. I didn’t believe it before, but I understand now that Parath will hide my intentions from Set until I can do what I must do.”

  “And Ibis. What of Ibis?”

  “I don’t care about Ibis.”

  “But this Parath does. If he is to aid you against Set, he will expect the same from you against Ibis. How many gods do you think you can kill?”

  Anok leaned back, and couldn’t resist a slight smile. “It seems a small enough worry. Really, what are the odds I’ll survive my encounter with Set?”

  Teferi frowned. “Don’t joke!”

  “What else is there to do, old friend? We always used to laugh at danger.”

  “Men and women who opposed us, made of flesh and blood, mortal as we, or even more so we believed. Rarely did we encounter sorcery, and when we did, we wisely headed the other way.”

  “Then perhaps I’m ready for greater challenges.”

  Teferi’s tone turned grave. “I should leave you. I should abandon you to this fool’s quest, Anok. I should find a ship out of this place and look for a better land. I should look for a fine woman with skin like polished mahogany, a strong mule that can pull a plow, and a few chickens. I should save my tales of adventure for my grandchildren.”

  Anok found the words made him feel both betrayed and relieved. “Go then!”

  Teferi turned to look at him silently for a while. “No,” he finally said, “I’ll stay, for never have you needed me more. What kind of friend would I be to abandon you alone to this madness?”

  Disappointment—and relief. “A wiser friend than I apparently have here now.”

  Teferi came and sat across the table from Anok. He looked once at the golden ring, then pushed it away. “When will you go back then?”

  “Tomorrow night. I have a few things to prepare, but now that I know it can be done there is no sense in waiting. And the longer I wait, the more chance somebody will stumble on my return preparations.”

  “How do you know the same sorcery will protect you from those little snakes?”

  Anok shrugged. “I don’t. I just feel that it will work. I can’t explain.”

  Teferi frowned but said nothing.

  “We’ll have to work out some way of exchanging messages in the short term. Hopefully we can work out a more successful method of getting notes out than we had in getting them in.”

  Teferi looked at him, eyebrow raised.

  “That,” said Anok, “would be much easier if you could read.”

  “It would also be easier if I could fly and breathe fire, but unless you impose some dark magics on me against my will, that will not happen.”

  “We’ll devise something.”

  Just then they heard the trapdoor open, and both looked to see Sheriti descending the stairs. Anok and Teferi exchanged an uncomfortable glance.

  Finally, Teferi began to rise. “I’ll leave you to talk. We can settle the other matters before tomorrow night.”

  “Bring breakfast,” said Anok. “Thick beer. We’ll talk then.”

  Teferi glanced toward Sheriti and nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, letting himself out the door.

  Sheriti strolled over on bare feet and took Teferi’s seat at the table. She wore a simple shift of heavier, everyday silk. It was rather plainer and more functional, and certainly less revealing, than the one she’d worn a few night earlier.

  Nevertheless, Anok thought she looked beautiful in it. The distance between them was painful, though she sat only an arm’s reach away.

  She licked her lips nervously. “You went to the temple then?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d ask how it went, but you’re alive. That says quite a bit.”

  “Dejal’s map seems accurate. I’ve rigged a quick way back inside. There’s no reason not to carry through with my plan.” Well, only one.

  “I see.”

  There were silent for a while, not making eye contact.

  Finally, Anok said, “I told you I was going. I told you nothing would change. You shouldn’t even be here. Why haven’t you gone back to the Temple of Scribes?”

  “Because, despite everything you’ve told me, I still have hope. It may have no grounding, but if I give it up—I’ll just die.”

  “And when I’m gone?”

  “Then I’ll hope for you to come back, later, if not sooner.” She seemed lost in thought for a while. “Know this, Anok. Whatever happens, whatever you must do, whatever you must become—I will forgive you. I will forgive you, and I will wait for you.”

  “Don’t—”

  She raised her hand and cut him off. “I do this for me, not for you. I’m very angry at you right now—for you, not for me. You are about to do a terrible thing to my very best friend, and I don’t know how I will find forgiveness. But I will.”

  Listening to her words was harder than he could have imagined. “I don’t deserve you, Sheriti. I wish you could see that and move on.”

  “I wish you could see yourself as I see you. In this land of evil, you are a lamp in the darkness. You’ve kept Teferi and me going all these years. Even those you couldn’t save from themselves—Dejal, Rami, the others—they are still better for having known you.”

  He wanted to tell her how weak he was, what a fraud he was, but he said nothing. If she didn’t see it already, he didn’t know what he could say.

  There was a long silence. Then he said, “You should go. I have many things to do. As do you. You should go to the Temple of Scribes tomorrow.”

  She nodded tearfully and started to rise. He stood as well.

  She took a step away, hesitated, then ran back into his arms. Their lips met, hot and desperate, their bodies pressed together, their limbs entwined. They fell onto the table and began throwing off their clothes. The ring was swept aside, clattering away somewhere in the darkness.

  There were no words.

  Words had already failed them.

  This was all they had now.

  16

  ANOK AWOKE THE next morning to find Sheriti gone. It saddened him, but he was just as happy to avoid tearful farewells. It was strange, he reflected as he dressed, how it was as though he were preparing for death rather than a short journey within the same city. He was putting his affairs in order, saying most of his good-byes, and leaving the Nest as though he never intended to return.

  Yet it was a short journey only in terms of physical distance. In other terms, it could hardly be a longer one. He was climbing from a high rung of the lowest class of Stygian society to the bottom rung of the very highest. Stygia’s government was simply a puppet operated by the Cult of Set, and supposedly any acolyte was putting himself on a path that could lead to the office of the Speaker of Set, the true power behind King Ctesphon’s court.

  To mingle with commoners would be frowned upon, if not outright forbidden. He would have to bend to a new series of rules, different standards of dress and behavior. He would have to defer to authority in a way he’d never known. His old life, close as it would be, might as well be on the far shores of the Western Ocean.

  But that was only the surface appearance of it. In truth, he was going into battle. In that way, he was like any young warrior headed off to some distant battleground, saying good-bye to loved ones with no assurance of return. Only he was not an army but a single warrior facing an adversary so great that victory, or even survival, seemed almost unimaginable.

  Teferi knocked his special knock at the door, and Anok was quick to let him in. He peered around the room as he entered, looking for Sheriti, but not finding her, said nothing about it. As instructed, he brought thick beer, flatbread with honey, and some kind of beef sausage, beef of any kind being a rare treat in Odji.

  They ate, drank, and discussed possible rendezvous points and illicit couriers. Most promising was their realization that low-ranking guardians of Set were easily bribable, and should be even more so where an insider to the cult was conce
rned.

  Anok was confident that he could get messages out, as long as his money lasted, assuming he was allowed to keep any of his remaining wealth. He was sure that some sort of tribute would be required as the price of admission to the cult. He could only hope that less would be expected from the likes of him than from the son of a wealthy merchant. With that hope, he entrusted the few gems left from their last windfall to Teferi, keeping only his small stash of gold and silver coin.

  They mutually decided that Teferi would move back into the Nest, taking Anok’s place as the guardian of the Paradise. It would allow him to keep an eye on Sheriti if she returned from the Temple of Scribes for visits, and on one other very important item.

  That was the last item to be taken care of. He went into his sleeping stall and pulled back the bed, making a point of showing Teferi the loose stone with its chipped corner. He pulled it out and removed the hidden contents, the medallion and its hidden treasure within.

  Only this time, it was different. As he removed the stone, the Scale began to ring, as it had in the desert. If it didn’t stop, it was going to be much harder to hide and transport. “I don’t know why it’s doing this.”

  Teferi looked puzzled. “Doing what?”

  “Don’t you hear it?”

  “Hear what?”

  “The ringing sound from this.” He held up the medallion.

  “Anok, I hear nothing.” He held his head closer, cocking his ear toward the object, then leaned back. “No,” he said firmly.

  That was very strange. Clearly he was “hearing” the sound with senses other than his ears. Perhaps that had been true in the desert as well. But why was it making the sound at all? Parath had said something about its having power over serpents. Perhaps some small fraction of its power had been transferred to him over long exposure. Perhaps that accounted for his ability to turn back the swarming snakes of the Great Temple.

  He would have to figure it out another time. He had been staring at the thing too long, and it was feeding Teferi’s suspicion about all things magical. No, best to get on with it.