Chapter XVII - Lissium - Tariik

The crisp scent of lilacs that once filled the city, laced with the subtle tinge of krima fumes, was now replaced by the odor of the rotting dead. A waning moon hid behind a thick wall of clouds. Tariik wore his golden silk scarf up over his nose, a phial of smelling-salts tucked firmly within its folds. He stood on the balcony of the highest tower in New Hope Keep, looking over the shell of the city known as Lissium. Beneath him in the yard, the fresh corpse of a messenger lay face down, spread eagle in a pool of his own blood.

Tariik had just received word that their endeavor in the desert had failed; the chamber deep underneath the mausoleum had been found collapsed, all the workers within crushed to death by falling rocks.  It would take weeks to replace all of the Kojan Wo laborers, and even longer to unearth the chamber again. The Phobosi lord knew this could be the work of only one man. “Jiro Von’faer.” The stench of the name as it left his mouth overpowered the odor of decaying flesh. He drew his scarf up tighter around his face.

Nobody had bothered to clean up the corpses of those slain during the festival. Why would they? The slaughter was the Church’s doing, and they wanted to maintain fear over aesthetic within the city. The only two cadavers that had been removed from the city were those found in New Hope Keep; the pieces of Gerod Corwyn were dumped into the weisuth ocean, while the Seventh Duche’s body was hauled up onto a spike and posted above the gate of the keep, Jiro’s sword still in his belly. The message that the Cardinal Blades made was plain; “we may be cruel, but magyk will always be an enemy even crueler.”

Despite the slaughter, the Church had still managed to paint Jiro as public enemy number one. The story they wove was that he had tapped into the arcane to put the city to sleep while he murdered the Seventh Duche and fled in the night, for no other reason than to throw the city into chaos. The High Prester had declared that this was the reason for the crusade the night of the bloodmoon, and their sole purpose for occupying the city. Magyk represented fear and chaos while the Cardinal Blades represented order; order that the populace would follow, even if their concession was reluctant. All that any resident in Lissium wanted was for things to go back to normal. “A goal none of them will never achieve,” Tariik muttered beneath his scarf.

The crimson cloud of krima that had hung over the city the night of the bloodmoon had passed, but its affects seemed to have lingered. Since that night, an alarming number of people had fallen ill with a fever and other similar symptoms. A few reports came in the first day, and had grown exponentially in number with each day that passed. Nearly all of the clinics in Lissium were full, and doctors were scarce; after all, the Chief of Medicine had been slain by the Cardinal Blades. The Church was quick to dismiss it as a plague brought on by the presence of so many corpses, but Tariik knew that it couldn’t be so simple. An itch in the marrow of my bones tells me that this is something more foul than that. At this rate, Lissium would be a ghost town in a matter of weeks.

Tariik felt faint, his head throbbing dully. Everything he had worked for his entire life was falling apart before his eyes. What did you expect, making a deal with a demon? He asked himself.

He had known he could never compare to his older brother. Luugo was older, smarter, stronger. Not only was the throne of Phobos his birthright, it was his calling. During his first few years as Magnate, the city-state saw prosperity they had only dreamed of. Until greed took hold of him. He stopped himself with that thought. Had greed not consumed them both?

With full knowledge that the throne of Phobos would never be his, Tariik had pursued other opportunities. With nothing but the cloak on his back he had walked into Lissium, and within a year he had secured himself a lordship in the Oasis town of Saimon, earning himself a seat at court in Lissium. But it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough. He now had uncontested control of Lissium and the Oasis, but at was cost? Was it worth the price of my soul?

The creature with the missing horn had promised him so much, Tariik now realized that it was too good to be true. Riches beyond his wildest dreams, a magnificent castle in any realm of his choosing. He had been so blinded by voracity that his failure had not been taken into account; it wasn’t even an option. He had acted out of hunger when he was already full.

A deep, churning bellow echoed across the open sea. Though it was miles away, the sound still sent a chill down Tariik’s spine. He walked around to the other side of the balcony to glimpse a cerulean searchlight flash in the distance. What appeared to be two lighthouses loomed over the seas on the dark horizon, and they appeared to be moving. Bigger and bigger waves crashed against the castle wall that faced the shore. Not a week ago, Tariik had watched the Seventh Duche christen three ships headed that same direction.

The men in those ships were in search of treasure. Could that have been a ruse, as well? Without a doubt, those men had sailed to their deaths, their souls just another number in the ever-growing collection of Kai’toh. The whole notion made Tariik sick, but he forced himself to accept it.

“This is the path you have chosen for yourself, Tariik,” he told himself. “There is no turning back.”

“A little late to be finding your sense of responsibility, don’t you think?” An effeminate, frail-sounding voice pierced Tariik’s skull. In a flash, the one-horned creature was standing next to him on the balcony, leaning over the rail with a smarmy grin on its face. Tariik balked, but refused to be intimidated by the pale green demon. The whole idea of magyk was still an absurdity to him, but circumstances had given him no other choice but to see it as a reality.

“I’m sure you know by now that excavation in the Kojan desert has been… halted,” Tariik informed his employer.

Kai’toh rolled its eyes. “Yes, I am well aware of your many failures, you statue-worshipping freak. Fortunately for me, I made sure I had my bases covered.” It returned its gaze out over the ocean, looking pleased with itself as it stared into the sapphire eyes out in the black sky. “Leave it to you to ruin a good moment. You’ve got such a nice view from up here!”

The scaly creature swung around to the other side of the balcony. “And the city! It’s beautiful! Rotting corpses, a quickening plague, martial law. The corpse of the former child ruler hanging above the gate! For f**k’s sake, it’s everything a Zuul has ever dreamed of, barring some burning buildings and more, uh, crying babies.”

As with every encounter with the demon thus far, Tariik found himself confused. “You’re… pleased with me?”

Kai’toh shot him a quizzical look, then bared his sharp fangs in a grin. “Of course I’m pleased with you, my boy. If there was anyone I could count on to throw the once thriving city of Lissium into an exponentially downward spiral, it was you. The matter of the mausoleum in the desert, however, is entirely different.”

Tariik straightened up. “I should have been there myself to oversee the project, my… um, your…”

Kai’toh waved a hand. “Spit it out, spare me the f*****g pleasantries.”

“The boy… Jiro. I did not know that he could use magyk. The thought had never even occurred to me. It was an incident I could not have anticipated.”

Kai’toh scowled. “Yes, I believe I know the boy. His actions have caused an unfortunate hiccup in my plans. But he is insignificant.”

“I agree,” Tariik nodded. “I can take care of him.”

“No, you can’t,” Kai’toh moved a finger to his chin. “I got all the krima I needed from you, and another burning city to add to my checklist. So, as a matter of fact, you can’t do anything useful to me at all anymore.”

“I can, I promise! Please!”

Kai’toh smirked. “I have a feeling your brother would have said the same thing, if Jiro hadn’t already taken care of him for me.”

Tariik’s eyes went wide. “You can’t mean…”

“The Pale has awoken, Tariik.” Kai’toh cocked his head. “The city you call home burns as we speak, and soon Lissium will too, thanks to you. My plans are already in full motion, there’s no stopping now.” The demon grabbed Tariik by the back of the neck and forced his gaze out towards the ocean. The lights had gotten a little bigger since he last looked.

“The Sentinel will raze Phaedyssia to the ground, and the Zuul will forge a greater empire from the rubble.” In one swift motion, Kai’toh embedded the sharp nails of his other hand into Tariik’s chest. “It’s a shame you won’t be around to see it. I’m gonna need that soul now.”