Chapter 13: The Deus Palatium
On the edge of the horizon, the spires and glimmering contours of the Deus Palatium loom ominous. Platoons of troops march in scattered groups, and the clangs of metal-on-metal and reports of shots can be heard as a few of these groups are pitched in combat with red-skinned malefactors. Novanostrum, Zanther, and Madra are perched at the top of a hill, watching the carnage separating them from their destination.
“How many damned daemons did they summon?” Zanther asks.
“It appears someone conjured the whole of High Hell’s High Guard, and they’re converging here,” Novanostrum says.
“Yeah, but if the daemons are targeting us, why would they be after the Crucifers as well?” Madra asks.
“Daemons will kill indiscriminately,” Novanostrum says, “it’s hard to tell who’s the target and who’s the collateral damage. Still, it would take a Maximagus of the First Circle to pull off a trick like this. There are only four or five wizards of that caliber on the entire Continent, and I killed one of them.
“Regardless, we must fight our way through this rabble and make our way into the Deus Palatium if we want to get to the Pontiflex Minor.”
Zanther pulls his new gold-plated longknives off his back with a dramatic flair. “Let’s get to killing.”
The road to the Deus Palatium is paved with well-set bricks. With most of the skirmishes taking place out in the surrounding fields, only one group of preoccupied fighters stands between Zanther, Novanostrum, Madra, and the megadoor leading inside the holy palace.
Two daemons are fighting a half-dozen Crucifers, with pieces of what might’ve been another half-dozen Crucifers scattered on the ground around them. Novanostrum nods at Zanther, time slows, and colors recede. In a flash of metal and purple blood, Zanther beheads and behearts both of the daemons. The natural laws of physics snap back into place, and the three of them find themselves in front of the startled Crucifers.
“That was incredible!” one of them says.
“You--you saved us,” says another one.
“Can you open the main gate for us? We wish to have an audience with the Pontiflex Minor.”
“After a show like that, we will certainly request you an audience with his Holiness,” the first Crucifer says.
Seemingly glad to get off the battlefield, they signal to the guards inside to raise the large iron gate blocking the megadoor. They all scurry inside as the gate is immediately lowered again.
The main hall of the Deus Palatium has a gray-and-white checkerboard marble floor extending seemingly into infinity, but they only walk for about two ticks before they come upon the door to the Dual Chamber.
“Please wait just a moment,” one of the soldiers says as he and another Crucifer walk through the door and close it behind them.
It’s not long before they emerge.
“The Pontiflex Minor will see you now,” one of them says.
As soon as they are through the door, it locks behind them, causing Madra to cast an anxious glance over her shoulder. At the far end of the massive Dual Chamber, standing in front of a massive throne with velvet cushions, waits the Pontiflex Minor.
“I’m told you dispatched a few of those fell daemons with great skill,” he says, “now, tell me, why is it you’ve come here?”
“Basically,” Zanther says, “this wizard and I would like you to stop sending soldiers and daemons to kill us. In addition to that, we’d also like to take a look around your fine palace. Also, she,” he says, pointing at Madra, “is pretty bonked off.”
Novanostrum and Madra share a look, both of them impressed by Zanther’s eloquence.
“Holiness, I am Queen Madra of Claustria,” she says, curtseying as best as she can while holding two loaded powderblasts, “I’ve come to demand the withdrawal of the Crucifer forces occupying my kingdom.”
“Oh? They left a few days ago,” the Pontiflex Minor says, “they weren’t there to occupy your kingdom. They were trying to locate these two.
“You know I sent assassins, soldiers, and daemons to find you,” the Pontiflex Minor continues, raising his voice, “and here you are, come to me. I could’ve saved myself a lot of trouble had I just waited and killed you myself.”
The three of them clutch their weapons.
“Still, that wouldn’t have done at all. You’d have the Nexus Sketch, and the foundations of Crucifism would be shaken. Now it’s gone, and pretty soon you’ll be gone, I can succeed the Grand Pontiflex once he finally succumbs to his illness, and things can return to normal.”
“You haven’t killed us yet,” Novanostrum says.
“Oh. Right. Details,” he says, raising his silver serpentine staff.
The doors to the room open, as do several marble panels in the walls. Daemons start piling into the Dual Chamber, clambering toward the center swinging axes, chains, and maces.
Madra points the powderblast at the nearest one, squeezing the trigger and dropping the hellspawn like a bag of dead cats. The other daemons pause for an eyeblink, then resume their charge as she reloads.
Zanther swings both of his gilded blades at a rapidly-approaching daemon and severs the torso from shoulder to armpit, sending the head and left arm flying off the body in a spray of sludgy blood as Novanostrum picks off targets one-by-one with lightning bolts which send down a shower of plaster and stone as they pierce the ceiling.
“It’s no good,” Novanostrum says to Zanther, “there’re too many of them. Time to show off a little.”
He slams his elephant-bone staff into the ground, sending out a shockwave which knocks down most of the daemons, then spins it around over his head, conjuring a stormcloud which crackles and rumbles as it grows in size and intensity inside the Dual Chamber.
Finally deciding to participate, the Pontiflex Minor blasts fireballs into the fray, causing Zanther and Madra to dodge and dive, all while avoiding the blows of the weapon-swinging daemons.
The brimstone sweat of a hundred daemons mixes with the spinning stormcloud, turning it a pale green and causing acidic rain to pelt everything in the large room.
One of the daemons wrests Madra’s powderblasts from her hands and another daemon splits one of Zanther’s longknives cleanly in half with his black axe, while the Pontiflex Minor targets Novanostrum with a meteorite the size of a wagon. The room shakes as giant slabs of stone are knocked loose from the ceiling by the penetration of the space rock, which slams into the floor just next to a diving Novanostrum and sends him and his elephant-bone staff flying to opposite sides of the chamber.
With Novanostrum down and his spell broken, the stormcloud explodes, showering the daemons and walls with the acidic mixture. Daemons and humans alike, all are momentarily stunned by the simultaneous explosions. Novanostrum raises his head, noticing the acid reacting with the wall behind the Pontiflex Minor, melting away images of expaled traitors to reveal another mural beneath.
“What the...?” Zanther exclaims, tilting his head.
Daemons start noticing the wall’s transformation, staring at the newly-revealed image and disintegrating into ash. The Pontiflex Minor is understandably confused.
“What is happening here?” he asks.
Zanther points at the painting, and the Pontiflex Minor reflexively turns around and gazes upon it.
“Ah...I see,” he says before his body bursts into ash. His hat and clothes fall to the floor as his silver serpentine staff rattles down the steps leading up to the lectern, transforming back into a snake and slithering away.
Novanostrum, Zanther, and Madra stand in the center of the room, catching a glimpse of the image, which is also starting to dissolve and melt away.
“It’s beautiful,” she says.
She looks as if she has only recently bloomed out of her adolescence and into womanhood. Her auburn locks fall over the shoulders of her simple robe: the outfit of a wizardess. She walks between the trees, her path lit by the moons above, both o
f which are mostly illuminated.
What little grass grows here and there is chalky white, as are the trees and their leaves. White flowers bloom and white fruits hang from limbs. She stays on the path, paying little attention to her surroundings. This same sense of cavalier disregard does not seem to apply to the owners of the hundreds of pairs of glowing eyes staring out from every dark nook and crevice.
The eyes glow not from malice, but from fear. The unimaginable beasts shrink back as she approaches.
In a small clearing of white grass stands a man, his face shadowed by the hood of his cloak. She approaches him with her arms crossed in front of her, palms flat and facing outward; a wizard’s gesture of peace.
They size each other up, and she is the first to break the silence.
“You know where it is?”
“I do indeed. I’ll tell you where to find it if you agree to my terms.”
She fluffs her hair seductively. “And what terms would you have for a woman like me?”
“A woman? You would deign to call yourself a woman? Don’t make me laugh. I know exactly what you are and what you can do for me.”
“Oh?”
“Oh yes. It will take a lot for you to please me, and I intend to be quite pleased indeed.”
Books in the Vicious Magick series:
Vicious Magick
Livid Steel
Seductive Silence
The Legend of Zanther
Mystickal Melody
Knives and Needles
Toil and Trouble
Dearly Detested (coming soon)
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