46: CITY OF SNAKES

(Grizzst’s story)

The two men stood on a hill overlooking a city. The surrounding lush green jungle foliage thrived in the hot, damp air. Vines crawled over the black volcanic basalt buildings, covered with statues of serpents and a surprising quantity of flowers. The serpent theme continued from the diamond-like scales on roofs to the supports winding their way around towers. Giant lizards, not horses, drew the carts and wagons.

Even so, a city was a city was a city, full of wealth and poverty and people trying to live their lives. Prostitutes and gamblers, merchants and holy men. Grizzst waited for his companion to catch on to the fact they weren’t just seeing a crowd of people wearing masks.

Rev’arric gasped. “Those aren’t human.”

“Sure they are,” Grizzst said. “They used to be voras. Call themselves thriss now. Their souls are the same as any human’s. They just happen to be humans with snake heads. And this is the problem with god-kings.”

“Explain,” Rev’arric demanded through gritted teeth.

“Easy enough,” Grizzst said. “After the ritual went bad, well, everything else did too. The winter didn’t end for a decade, the demons attacked wherever and whenever they liked, and after the Assembly locked up Vol Karoth, nobody lived past a century. But some spell-crafter from the old days cracked the code. She discovered how to become a passive receiver for tenyé. People could donate small amounts of tenyé. No big deal if just one or two did it, but when thousands did it, suddenly she was powerful enough to matter. Not as powerful as a Guardian, but powerful enough to fight off the demons. Keep the plants and animals alive. The answer to all our prayers, which was kind of the problem. What resembled prayer turned into the real thing.”

“And the snakes?”

“They’re just snakes.” Grizzst shrugged. “The local god-king here is a fellow named Ynis, and he likes snakes. But when you’re this powerful, when your people worship you as a god, why wouldn’t you stick to a theme? You don’t even want to know what Khorsal’s done to his worshippers—he likes horses.”

“Who devised this obscenity?” Rev’arric’s distaste was so profound, Grizzst contemplated the possibility they should leave before the dragon did something rash.

“Someone named Suless. Heard of her?”

“No, I—” Rev’arric’s eyes widened. “Wait. Su’less?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. Nobody uses the apostrophes these days. Anyway, word spread of how she’d done it; any wizard strong enough to copy her did. Might have worked out except—”

“Power corrupts?”

“Yeah,” Grizzst said. “And bodies can only hold so much tenyé at a time. That’s the whole reason I haven’t been able to bring the Guardians back. Their tenyé destroys any body I use to resurrect them. So the god-kings create these little projects to clear the excess out. Might be good stuff like making really hearty strains of rice. Might be stuff like, ‘Hey, let’s give my worshippers snake heads.’” He waved an arm toward the city.

“This is foul,” Rev’arric commented.

“Who’s going to stop them, hmm?”

“You have the sword.” Rev’arric made it an accusation.

“I call it Godslayer,” Grizzst said.

Rev’arric scoffed. “Then why aren’t you using it that way?”

“Because an immunity to magic doesn’t mean much against armies, arrows, and swords. Plus, the god-kings are the only thing protecting us from the demons these days. I don’t dare kill them as long as they’re our only defense. Even the other races adopted the god-king idea. Maybe they don’t worship their god-kings and build temples to them, but they need people powerful enough to stave off demon attacks. God-kings are powerful enough. Now do you understand why I want the Eight Guardians back?”

“I could fix all of this by taking Godslayer and using the sword for its original purpose: putting Vol Karoth into the Nythrawl Wound so he can seal it.”

“That won’t take care of the demons.”

“Trust me. It will.”

Grizzst noticed Rev’arric had no problem calling his brother Vol Karoth. Probably he liked distancing himself from the reminder of who that creature had once been. “I’ve been to the Nythrawl Wound, Var. It’s not growing so fast matters can’t wait a few thousand years. Whereas you haven’t seen Vol Karoth. You think you can control him with that sword? I’m not so confident. And if you’re wrong? None of us will live long enough to be worried about the damn Nythrawl Wound. Safety protocols, Var. That’s why we need the Eight.”

“You said he killed the Eight.”

“He took them by surprise. They thought he was their friend. This time, they’ll be ready for him.” Grizzst waved his hand toward the city. “Besides, they can help with this. Or are you fine with what the god-kings are doing to our people?”

“No, of course not.” Rev’arric stared out at the city, scowling. “And as much as I want to dismiss this as unimportant compared to the Nythrawl Wound and Vol Karoth, I’m not sure that’s true. Do you have any idea what powers the god-kings are tampering with? Damnably, Su’less is smart enough to follow the research to its logical conclusion. That may be worse than these other dangers.”

“Yeah, I just said—” Grizzst paused. “What do you mean, ‘logical conclusion’?”

Rev’arric’s lip curled. “Some avenues of exploration are too dangerous to be pursued.¹ Never mind. Forget I said anything.” He turned to face the other man. “You’re right. I owe you this much; I’ll look through your test notes. Maybe I’ll notice something you missed. I’m not fond of the Guardians, but even the worst of them would never stoop to this—” He flicked his fingers back toward the city.

“Okay,” Grizzst said. “Excellent. Let’s go.” He rubbed his hands together and started walking toward the city.

“Wait,” Rev’arric said. “Why are we heading into the city?”

“Huh?” Grizzst looked back. “Oh, because I’m out of wine. If we’re going to go over all five thousand, three hundred, and seventy-two attempts, we’re going to need more booze.”