Chapter 19
“The wealth of the city is determined by events on the sea.”
-- Sento of Yang
Fangshao flew just above the cloud layer, able to hide from the surface but not from his own thoughts. If he had not spent his life killing, training, and meditating upon more effective ways to gather power, he might have understood his emotions better. As it was, he did not even know he had emotions. Tante brains were unusual things; he understood the concept of angles and the different sword strokes they permitted, or how certain techniques could deflect an attack off to the side, and he also intimately knew when to strike, when to negotiate, and when an alliance had born fruit and was now over-ripe and unneeded. His feelings, however, were a mystery to him. If he had been more in touch with his emotions, he would have known that his deep feelings of shame sent him above the cloud layer because he did not want to be seen.
The clouds swept by beneath him as the sun slowly sank into the orange sands. The desert was an inhospitable place, hostile and searing, a vast wasteland of splintered rocks and hot sands.
When he had crushed the soft skins and taken their water, things would be much improved. He would have hundreds of mates, each waiting in the shallow waters where his hunting groups could keep them pure and ready to bear eggs for he alone. He would roam the cities of the soft skins, exploring, burning their books, if they had any, and wearing their clothes to mock their defeat. The lower sea would be his, but in order to do that, he had to dispose of some rivals first. Vardonus, victor of many battles, would be the most powerful. If allowed to escape, his hunting groups would eventually ensnare and kill Fangshao. Malakor would be trouble, as that brine-spawned killer seethed with ambitions and plans, just waiting for the chance to move up in power. Malakor was skilled with both sword and spell, as well as being patient and confident. Arianna, one of the rare female Nobles, would have to be removed from her perch as well.
After he cast them into oblivion, after he defeated the soft skins and filled their sea with eggs that he himself had fertilized, he would set out more barrels of water and food in the desert, and find another sea. Conquering was the most pleasing, invigorating act he had yet discovered, sublime beyond his ability to describe. Briefly he feared that he would find no more seas in the desert of splintered rocks, and the idea came into his head of having the Benthics dig one. He would give it to two Nobles and a group of Benthics and tell them that it was theirs to populate and enrich with their brood, but he would change his mind in a year and wage war against them purely for the pleasure. Saliva filled his mouth the way it often did just before he thrust his head into a barrel full of fat, juicy fish.
He flew onwards, managing to get his tired beast to the edge of the upper sea. It looked much like the lower one, of similar size, but instead of five cities surrounding it there were only small clusters of buildings. A few Benthics had to be raised up out of the muck and made into workers, as the forges and metal smelting industries could not be located underwater. The sea itself had a massive crystal pyramid in the center, surrounded by eight transparent towers.
The crystal veins beneath the sea floor were far larger than expected. They ran deep, and none had been yet mined to exhaustion. The result was that some of the Benthics had found or stolen tools and mined the crystal themselves, making small houses or temples to some new gods that they now worshiped. The Nobles entered with hunting groups and killed them all, of course, at Fangshao’s insistence. The crystals, like the surface or females, were for the Nobles only.
He landed his tired Arkhaios at the edge of the sea and let it slip into the shallow waters to drink and lower its raging body temperature. Fangshao also waded into the water and swam, his armored body sinking so that he had to stay in the shallow areas. Some Benthics approached, identifiable as such from their lack of armored plate or weapons, as well as the haunted look in their eyes. They watched as he snared some fish with his gloved hand. Cooking them was not required; this was a day of duty, not feasting. Taking off his helmet he bit into the fish, tossing the heads back into the sea to feed the bloodkelp. He slid back onto his silver Arkhaios and flicked the chains, sending it across the sea. Descended from a fish, it was still buoyant and easily swam across the surface, bringing him to the edge of the pyramid where the crystal steps rose from the water. Lesser Nobles took the chains from him and brought the beast underwater where it would be housed, unlike the green Arkhaios which did not have gills and had to be kept on the surface.
Climbing the steps, Fangshao was conscious of hundreds of eyes upon him. The crystal towers were close by, and their tops were filled with Nobles, all staring. Even the sea behind him was filled with Tante who watched, perhaps already aware that very few Arkhaios had returned. The entrance at the top of the pyramid was occupied by more Tante who stared coolly down at him.
Fangshao ached. Clambering up the steps reminded him of the sore muscles from long hours on the back of his steed, and the ache in his shoulders from the bow work. He had slain countless soft-skins with his bow, swooping through the air at high speeds and sending them to their graves. It had been good hunting, but then the Arkhaios had began falling. Slowly at first, then faster as more arrows dug into their flesh, they weakened and fell. Fangshao himself had been diving toward a gigantic soft-skin ship, a vessel large enough that it could have housed every single Noble in existence. Too late, while he was committed to the dive, he had realized that the horrid soft skins had developed either some magic or a poison that was knocking the Arkhaios from the sky. All around him the reptiles fell or slumped into the sea. He knew from experience and instinct that if he raised the nose of his beast, he would be presenting its belly to their arrow fire, probably causing it to take several shafts in the soft flesh. Instead he had sent his silver Arkhaios into a roll, spiraling it around while still diving. It had been a cork-screw like maneuver, and even as he spun around he saw the hail of arrows rushing by. Miraculously unscathed, he had pulled out of the spiraling dive just above the sea and escaped.
Now, sore and in a foul mood, he concentrated on putting one foot ahead of the other and forcing himself to the top of the pyramid. He walked past the lesser Nobles at the entrance and made his way into the council chamber. The walls in this area were of granite to ensure privacy as they plotted or shared secrets, and all the greater Nobles were here, including two of the ones that he knew would oppose him.
On one wall was a mosaic made of small stones, created more than sixty thousand years ago, as it pre-dated Tante history. It had been found at the bottom of the sea amid watery ruins and rubble. The skill of the pebble-fitters was unmistakable. It showed a tall, deep red crustacean on one side, its arms ending in massive claws. It was engaged in battle with an equally large armored fish, an ancient variety that had an external skeleton. They were locked in a death struggle. Based on fossils that had been found in the mud and rocks of the Tante sea, such creatures had long since become extinct. Fangshao surmised that early Tante hunters had eliminated them in the distant past when several marine civilizations had competed for dominance in the sea.
As he entered, the baleful glances of the Tante fixed on him before returning to what they were working on. Several bent over maps, making plans for the invasion or for post-war architectural improvements. Others discussed the rising threats of lesser Nobles, and how to dispose of certain Benthics who looked like they might be able to pull themselves out of the muck and silt.
Fangshao – feeling a certain confidence course through his veins – stood in front of them and flipped over a table, sending the weapons and armor on it clattering to the floor. All eyes turned to him.
He felt a rush of pleasure course through him, a stinging yet thrilling sensation, burning away the ache and exhaustion. Battle, his lovely maiden, was approaching. Battle – sweet and warm and utterly faithful, never failing to pleasure him.
“The soft skins have defeated us,” said Fangshao in a calm, loud voice. “Their arrows brought our Arkhaios down, weakening them with either magic or poison. It seems my advice to attack from higher levels was correct after all. Most of the Arkhaios have been wiped out, their Noble riders either slain or swimming for their lives in the lower sea. Who was it that suggested each Noble pursue their own tactics, striking from whatever level they chose?”
Everyone knew that Vardonus, greatest of the Nobles and perhaps, on some level, leader of the Tante, had made that suggestion. Fangshao had argued for uniform tactics, to be designed and tested by some of the Nobles, so that each Arkhaios rider would be using the same techniques in battle, but Vardonus had overruled him.
Vardonus gazed at him, serene and quiet, not bothering to drop the map he held in his scaled hands. Vardonus’s had been a strange rise to power. Born of Noble parentage, he had slain his siblings so that he would be the sole inheritor of his family’s wealth. When his mother had spurned their father, Vardonus had killed her. For some unknown reason, his father flew into a rage and attacked. Vardonus killed his father to stay alive.
Taking his family’s wealth, Vardonus had immediately invested it in Benthics. He had smuggled several of them to the surface and housed them just outside the sea, where the hot and killing winds were kept at bay by the wood buildings his family owned. He taught them the skills he deemed necessary to survive in the world. One became skilled with a net, able to flick it over a moving opponent. Another Benthic practiced skewering the entrapped victim, while a third Benthic learned to carry two shields, guarding the rest while they worked. Other Benthics spent their days learning sword skills, archery, or accounting. While the killing arts were being refined, Vardonus still needed to amass more wealth.
Vardonus’s hunting groups could not protect him here. In the dark depths of the sea, the hunting groups would have ambushed and slain Fangshao. Hundreds of years ago, the ruling council saw that such battles would wipe out the Nobles, eventually leaving them at the mercy of a potential Benthic uprising. While almost anything went on in the unlit depths of the sea, on the surface the law of the Tante took precedence. If they were going to fight, it had to be single combat.
“You were there,” said Vardonus, slowly putting down the map and staring at Fangshao. “Yet you allowed this to happen. How many Arkhaios are left?”
“One silver and a handful of green. We have been wiped out.”
“Yet you returned,” said Vardonus.
“My skills as an Arkhaios handler are well known. I was able to escape the swarm of arrows that sailed through the sky. Whoever suggested that the Nobles pursue their own tactics has failed us.”
Vardonus rested one hand on his finely tooled sword hilt. “There are more ways to die than by the arrow of a soft skin. Perhaps you returned because you have taken a soft skin female as a mate, and she sheltered you, protecting you behind her pink legs.”
Fangshao grinned broadly, and the nearby Nobles scattered, giving him plenty of room. A strange lust came over Fangshao as his body readied for battle. “At least my mate does not lie down with soft skinned males. Do you dream of catching her in the act, so you can watch?” Fangshao drew his sword and waited, keeping his eyes on his enemy.
Vardonus drew his own blade and advanced, his gaze steady. “I’m going to make flutes from your bones, muck dweller, and play them when I want to dream of this day.” Vardonus ran forward and brought the tip of his blade crashing down the moment it was within range. Fangshao swept his blade around in a wide arc, trying to block it. Vardonus moved his blade back a bit, retracting it so that it was not blocked, then struck again. His weight was not behind the blow since he had been forced to stop it in mid-stroke, and it glanced off Fangshao’s helmet. Sensing an opening, Fangshao used his free hand to grip his opponent’s wrist, and drew his sword back for a thrust.
Vardonus could not free his sword hand from Fangshao’s grip in spite of his struggles. Fangshao stabbed, intending to puncture through the plate armor, but Vardonus swept his own free hand in and batted away the tip of Fangshao’s sword stroke, causing the point to pass harmlessly by his side.
The two combatants parted, both pulling away to ready for the next strike. Fangshao shivered in the grip of a warm, enriching glow, focusing his concentration and keeping his muscles alert and ready. Vardonus was the veteran of many fights, and he gave Fangshao no time to ready himself. Vardonus came in with a horizontal strike aimed at the relatively weak juncture where helmet met shoulder plates.
Fangshao shunted it aside, then spun as he had done hundreds of times in practice, but Vardonus spun at the same time and blocked it. Both fighters parted. Fangshao’s mouth dripped saliva and his knees were bent, his heart pounding from the thrill. Vardonus rushed again, and Fangshao dropped to one knee and extended his blade, driving it through the chest plate as Vardonus literally impaled himself on Fangshao’s sword.
Rising to his feet, knowing full well that he was still gripped by the deep battle lust, he turned to the rest of the Nobles. An intense excitement had penetrated his brain, leaving him just enough sense to know that he was not truly in control. “And now, Malakor, what have your plans come to? Vardonus, whom you depended upon to shield you from danger and bring you to great heights, has fallen. Where are your secret alliances, your tricks and your clever plans? What of the great betrayals where you slowly eliminated your enemies in the darkness under the waves?”
All in the room knew his words to be true. They watched, no one speaking, while Malakor considered this. He glanced toward the exit, looking to see if he could make it out. To take to the sea now would undo years of work. He would be cast back into the muck, stripped of his holdings on the surface, and consigned to the life of a Benthic. Yet he still seemed to be considering it, as if, perhaps, he wanted to run, thinking that he could claw his way back to the top one day.
He made his decision. He yanked a polished gem from his belt and raised it. Expecting a lightning bolt, Fangshao drew his own faceted gem and held it out. Fangshao’s was a sink stone, a highly polished black mineral that could absorb magical energy. If Malakor was going to use his famous arc of lightning, Fangshao would be able to absorb it, and perhaps rush forward to decapitate him before he could cast again.
Instead of the blinding arc of electricity from Malakor, green bubbles streamed out of his gem, moving through the air faster than Fangshao would have thought possible. A few of them touched other Nobles and burst, causing the Tante to topple to the ground. Dozens of bubbles streamed toward Fangshao, killing a few more Nobles caught in their way and sending the rest of them running out of the room.
The exit was jammed with Nobles climbing over each other to escape. It did not matter; his battle lust made him indifferent to his own safety. The bubbles streamed toward him, and with his sword he punctured them, slashing and spinning, bursting each one with the edge of his blade. More green bubbles streamed in from all sides, and he found himself perfectly focused, aware only of his effortless sword work, sending sheets of green liquid to the ground. Seconds later he sent his sword through the last two bubbles, clearing the way to his enemy.
Malakor had only moments to live and he fumbled. The magician dropped his gem and withdrew a different one, a brilliant red stone with hundreds of facets, each multiplying the strength of the spell. Fangshao’s armor emitted a low hum and the joints did not want to move. Walking became difficult, and when he held his sword close to his side, the blade clanged against his leg armor, stuck fast. Other weapons and metal objects on nearby tables skittered across and leaped to him, sticking to his highly magnetized armor. Even the clasps did not want to work. He had to pry his fingers under the metal buckles and force them up to remove even his leggings. He knew that before he was able to discard enough of his armor to rush forward again, Malakor would come up with something more insidious.
His muscles were straining to their utmost against the unresponsive joints of his armor, so Fangshao put his gem down on a nearby table and withdrew a diamond containing a shark spirit.
Years earlier a female magician had taught him how to slay a shark and force its essence into a gemstone. She demonstrated the technique, and it had been at that moment that he had decided he would eventually kill her, taking the gem from her along with the others.
The shark appeared as a shadow, insubstantial and dark, yet swimming through the air the way it had once moved through water. Fangshao had no control over it; he had only been able to slay it and force its ghost into the gem. Now it circled the room, nothing but a ghostly impression of its former self yet utterly dangerous. It swam back and forth, its dark eyes gazing at Fangshao, then returned to circling the Tante.
Fangshao knew he had little time. The magnetism of his armor was getting stronger, forcing his feet to a standstill. Soon he would not be able to move his arm, especially if the metal arm guards touched his chest plate and stuck there. Dropping the gem, he managed to withdraw one more and cast a spell on himself, something he had never thought he would do. His entire armor and sword quickly gained a patina of rust, turning reddish and flaking. It rusted through and fell into a pile of red flakes. Deprived of his sword, he glanced around but had to duck beneath a sudden assault of the shadow shark. It quickly moved away, heading straight towards Malakor, who dropped his gem and drew his sword. He was too late; the ghost shark bit deep into his body, eliciting screams from the Tante, and a shadow in the shape of Malakor could be seen being pulled from Malakor’s body, caught in the teeth of the insubstantial shark.
Malakor’s body – now empty of his essence – slumped to the ground, and Fangshao waved his wrist to end the spell. His beloved armor was gone, but since he had slain two Nobles, he would probably be able to take their wealth, unless the rest of them rose against him.
One of the Nobles that had been killed earlier by a green bubble was still wearing a splendid suit of silver armor. Fangshao stripped the corpse of the armor and took it for himself. The fit was not perfect but could be adjusted by artisans later.
He bent down to pick up a sword that had been dropped earlier by one of the fleeing Nobles, and walked out. He found himself at the top of the crystal pyramid, sunlight streaming on his face, many Nobles backing away as if they intended to flee into the sea if more bubbles appeared. There was a single figure half way down the pyramid steps, a female Tante with a bow. Fangshao’s eyes caught the movement of the arrow, and his reflexes caused him to twist aside. The arrow passed by, missing by a finger’s width, shattering against the crystal frame behind him.
It was Arianna. Either she knew he was coming for her next, which would be a logical deduction since she was one of the last who could oppose him, or she wanted to eliminate threats to her power as much as he did. Either way another arrow was being fitted to her bow.
He assessed his options. He could take up a bow from one of the nearby Nobles, and have an archery duel with her, or he could rush down the steps to kill her with his own hands. As pleasing as this was to his battle-maddened senses, he knew he would stumble and fall if he ran down the steps. An archery duel required patience, and he wished to end this quickly.
A glance to the side showed Nobles and a few Benthic guards watching. He knew they would not interfere, as above the surface at least, their law was inviolate and it had to be single combat. He drew his sword, watching her, memorizing her location. Tante brains were powerful, as befitted a race of hunters, and he knew that even with his sight obscured he would still be able to picture her location in his mind.
He withdrew a blue gem, twisted his body to avoid her second arrow, and held the polished stone before him. With a few spoken words a vast, impenetrable gloom descended upon them with a rushing sound, as if all the light in the area had suddenly been swallowed by darkness. He raised his sword, the tip behind his head for a moment, then cast it, his muscular arm sending it spinning into the darkness. With a wave of his hand he sent the spell away, and when light returned, Arianna lay on her back at the bottom of the steps, the sword protruding from her chest.
Nobles came to him to praise his accuracy and skill. He nodded, feeling the battle-madness still upon him, but knowing that his enemies were either gone or were falling over themselves to complement him.
“I shall rule the Nobles now,” Fangshao said, suddenly realizing he was weaponless. With a impossibly quick movement his hand shot forth and yanked out the sword from the scabbard of a nearby Noble. The now unarmed Noble nodded and took a step away, quick to show no hostility.
Fangshao had a brief discussion with the Nobles around him and then began issuing orders, more to see who would disobey so that he could slay them on the spot. None showed resistance to his command; they left to do his bidding and gathered the rest of the Nobles in the pyramid’s council chamber.
Fangshao ascended the steps and returned to the room, taking the seat normally held by Vardonus. A small group of Nobles clustered around him, primarily those he trusted most. “All of you will now be riding Arkhaios,” he told them. “Find the riders of the few remaining mounts and let them know they have been relieved of their posts. Kill them if they resist. The hunting groups of Vardonus, Malakor, and Arianna are now mine to command. Bring them up to the base of the pyramid and inform them of their new commander, killing any who show hesitation or displeasure.” The Nobles nodded, and a few left to do his bidding.
Other Nobles asked of his plans.
“The soft skins will come, of that I am sure,” said Fangshao. “We struck their cities, collapsing buildings and sending thousands of swords into their teeming masses. We sank their ships, and even put arrows into those who had tried to swim away from the wrecks. They will not forgive us. When they come, we must be ready. Tante scouts must be sent out to lay in the river and warn us of any approach of our enemies. Ships must be readied; every vessel we have, no matter its function, must be converted into a warship. Even the smallest fishing ship must be filled with Benthics who wield either spears or bows. Weapons must be manufactured. We had planned on invading the lower sea when ready, but now that only a few Arkhaios remain, I suspect our mortal enemies will come to do battle with us. We must be ready.”
“Yes,” said a lesser Noble, one who had been a Benthic just days earlier, but had been discovered with magic and challenged by a Noble. The Benthic had slain him in fair combat, and had taken his place. “Perhaps I can be of service, master.” No Noble had ever referred to another as master, and the sound filled Fangshao with a tingle of pleasure.
“Yes?” asked Fangshao.
“As you know, only recently have I ascended to a level where I could gaze upon your greatness. There are others like myself hiding under the sea, developing magical skills. Many of them, all hiding because of the danger. Shall I bring them up?”
All eyes turned to Fangshao. The magic wielding Benthics would be a powerful group, but they might pose a danger to him, one day. “Yes,” said Fangshao. “All magicians now serve me, and will be stationed at the top of the pyramid. I order that no Noble may again challenge a Benthic, ever. Let it be written!”
Lesser Nobles hastened to write down his words in the Book of Laws, while others recorded the events of the day in the Book of Legends. “All Nobles and all magicians will be with me in the pyramid,” said Fangshao. “When the enemy comes, we will fill many volumes with details of my greatness.”
Around him, the rest of the Tante agreed, praising his skill and courage, testifying to the truth of his words.