The Cult 5

My time as Anqaspuma Huazha's partner was a bright time in my exile. We were friends, lovers, and companions. I could never trust her with money, but I cared very little for such things. She was happy to pay for food and drink, and I was happy to take my reward in adventure and love.

Anqa was wary of Quiyahui, and I believe for good reason. For the first month Anqa and I were together, until the full moon, the coatl was tense, watching the thief with blue-white eyes. I did not quite detect menace, but neither did I sense affection. When Anqa and I lay together, which was as often as we could manage, Quiyahui turned away.

The first full moon into our partnership changed everything.

We had retrieved the object Ah-Tol had requested, and were on our way back to Michnamacac to deliver it. We were staying in a riverside inn that catered to the merchants who plied the Edda. As was our custom, Anqa and I savaged one another in the bed finding a sweet exhaustion to retire in, while Quiyahui brooded in a sullen coil. I had not even realized the significance of the time until I was awakened with a soft wetness enveloping my staff. I should have known it wasn't Anqa then, for she was hesitant about performing the knight's kiss and she certainly did not swallow me to the hilt the way I was feeling now.

That was when I finally made the realization that the mouth that held me, the tongue that flicked out to tickle my coin purse, was as cool as a breeze. I opened my eyes to find the feathered head of Quiyahui between my legs, industriously taking me into her throat. She must have sensed my waking, as right then she looked up, her lightning-blue eyes meeting mine.

Quiyahui is always beautiful, but her human form carries a different, more recognizable beauty. Petite and shapely, possessing smooth, white-blue skin, she fills me with desire. I already longed to feel the kiss of her feathered sex on mine, watch her face contort in bliss as I took her. I caressed the soft feathers on her head where a human woman would have hair. Her tongue spiraled over my length, pulling a groan out of me. The sound was deafening in the night-quiet room.

Anqa, who had been sleeping next to me after our most recent bout of love, stirred. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice thick. Her grogginess vanished as she looked over to the other side of the bed, beholding what was to her a mysterious woman enthusiastically polishing my spear. "What's this?"

"Anqa, meet Quiyahui," I gasped. The coatl had brought me along expertly. The bliss pushed against my belly, ready to spill from me.

"The snake?" Anqa leaned closer to watch Quiyahui's work. The coatl looked over at the thief, bringing her head up, her lips playing at my head, before plunging down again.

"She takes human form every full moon," I gasped. "I think she might be a bit jealous of the two of us."

"You weren't going to warn me?"

"It slipped my mind. We've been so..." My thoughts vanished in a scintillating wash of pleasure. I was so close. As though she could sense it and would not allow me to finish, Quiyahui lifted her head up, my length popping from her. She moved to Anqa, pushing the thief back on the bed and putting her head between Anqa's long legs.

"Oh!" Anqa squealed as Quiyahui pressed her mouth to the thief's sex. Then, a gasp, "Her tongue is

long!

" Anqa was already moving against the serpent's explorations, sweat springing over her body. "And cold!"

I stroked Quiyahui's back. As much as I needed release, I could not deny the beauty of Anqa and Quiyahui together. "One of her many fascinating traits."

"You know, when I take two lovers at once, I prefer they both be men." Anqa said, though the expression of bliss on her face, and her hand at the back of Quiyahui's head said she was enjoying this a great deal. The coatl did something, and Anqa squealed, thrusting her hips into Quiyahui's face.

"I'm sure you'll make do."

Anqa was beyond speech. She threw her head back in a joyful cry as Quiyahui found some wonderful place inside her. I was ready for myself, and Quiyahui had started me, so she might as well finish me. I got behind her, took her haunches in my hand, and slid myself home in the cool embrace of her sex. She made no sound, but the way she moved against me, this was what she wanted. I believe she merely needed to be reassured that she was still desired, and she was. I suppose Anqa and I, with our ostentatious need for the other and athletic lovemaking had stoked jealousy in the lovely beast. I would comfort her.

I felt her shivering about, me, a strange sensation when combined with her cool flesh. There was always something like coming home whenever she and I were together. I did not understand it then, but now it makes perfect sense. As much as she needed the comfort, I believe I did as well.

As I rocked against Quiyahui, I was treated to the sight of Anqa, her eyes closed, her fingers toying with her sensitive nipples, her body undulating in waves against Quiyahui's mouth. We found our rhythm for a single, blessed moment, but it was enough. The three of us broke, me flooding my serpent as she drank Anqa's juices.

Only then did we settle back down onto the bed, in a tangle of glistening limbs. Quiyahui lay over me, her head on my chest, Anqa on her side, stroking the serpent's back.

"Well, this certainly got more interesting," Anqa said thoughtfully.

"On the full moon," I said.

"You've never...when she's a serpent?"

"No. What do you take be for?"

"A man who lacks imagination."

I chuckled. What could I say to that?

I let the matter drop that night, but I did catch Anqa in an amorous embrace with Quiyahui on a different night. The serpent was wrapped around the thief, constricting with her muscled coils, but instead of devouring Anqa from the head, Quiyahui's mouth was latched onto the thief's sex. I was stunned for a moment, then I sat and watched the two of them finish. It sparked an idea in my mind that I would not act upon until much later.

We returned the item to Ah-Tol, and he had another object for us to retrieve. This was our life for a time, stealing some important thing, then returning to Ah-Tol for payment that Anqa always thought insufficient.

It was a pleasant existence, and one that I could have remained in. I had adventure and love in plenty. Sometimes Anqa spoke of leaving the Edda, but I saw its seductive power. The Emerald had its own hold upon any who felt its waters.

Over the following months, Anqa learned of my treasures. She asked me about the ring on my cold finger, and I told her it was a cursed object I had taken from a necromancer, though I did not explain its other powers. She was fascinated by the sheath on my back, the skin about the size of my forearm that when I tapped Ur-Anu against it, the leather closed around the spear's shaft She asked about my sweetwater goblet, one afternoon when I was using it to drink from the river. I showed her its power.

She learned of the treasure that fascinated her most a moment later. She haned the goblet back to me, licking her lips as the brackish water of the Edda had just become the delicious and rejuvenating water of the cup. Her eyes widened as I opened a fold in my loincloth and tucked the cop away. When I moved the fold back against my body, it lay flat.

"That was how you hid the naqamar?" she demanded.

I grinned. "That was the secret."

"You cheated!"

"I never said my clothes weren't magic."

She sighed. "You're lucky you fuck so well."

"It's a skill like any other."

We were many months into our collaboration when Ah-Tol gave us the target that would break our partnership. Yet unlike the sundering of the Mythseekers, I do not regret this one. Not that there was not misery afterwards but because when we ended, we still wanted one another. It's better to end there than with recriminations. My memories of Anqa are fond ones, and though she is certainly long dead, she lives in my heart.

Ah-Tol sent us after the Broken Panther Shield, located, he said, in the tower of Lord Kulla in the city Xoc-Nehar. I was thrilled at the chance to see the great city of the Edda, perhaps the greatest city on this side of the world. As mysterious as Uazica and Obai are considered to those of us from Chassudor, even we had heard the name Xoc-Nehar.

We took the boat farther west than we had ever journeyed before. When I finally saw the city itself, my breath fled my lungs, for it is like nothing on the face of Thür. The river looks to end, blocked by a colossal dam of wood and stone. Closer, and it becomes obvious that this was no dam, nor even a bridge. It was the city itself. This district, called The Shallows in the city itself, is supported by pilings of stone rising from the riverbed itself. The current flows between unimpeded. In the center, there is a great canal that moves aside for the biggest ship traffic. The Shallows spans the breadth of the Edda Aroyac, a monument of civilization unlike any other.

The belief is that, in this part of the Edda, which is perhaps a bit narrower than most, two cities rose on either side. Xoc was founded by the Yzhata, or perhaps those who came before, while Nehar was built by Kharsoomians. Like any cities built nearby, they were allies and rivals, partners and enemies. Eventually, the cities reached out into the river, touched, and became one. Xoc-Nehar holds no allegiance to any greater power, and all are welcome. It can be a dangerous place for the unwary, but its ancient beauty and vibrant culture is unmatched.

We pulled the boat onto a harbor on the southern shore. I stared at the wonder of the city. It had that unwieldy vitality that such incredible settlements always attain. People lived among buildings that had stood for over a thousand years, granting them continued life and new purpose.

As Anqa spoke to the harbormaster, I heard my first words in Lorkha, a creole that combines Nahlor and Kharish and is the preferred tongue of Xoc-Nehar. Despite the fact that I spoke passable Nahlor and would soon learn fluent Kharish, I would never manage Lorkha. The accent is far too strange, all stretched vowels and swallowed consonants. Much like the city that birthed it, Lorkha is both greater and stranger than the sum of its parts.

"Come," Anqa said. "Let's get some food and a room for the night."

We received a few looks, but Xoc-Nehar is cosmopolitan. As the place where two continents met, it was a gathering place for exotics. Adventurers flock to Xoc-Nehar meaning that unusual sights abound.

The people on the streets hailed from all over Uazica and Obai. I saw fashions from all along the Edda and places I had never been besides. Many also dressed, or perhaps more accurately undressed, in the Kharsoomian fashion, wearing only sandals, harnesses, and jewelry. In fact, the two of us, me in my kilt and boots, Anqa in her kilt, sandals, and vest, were two of the more clothed pedestrians. From time to time, I saw someone from farther away, covered in robes or armor. I pitied the poor fools and hoped for their sake such garments had an enchantment upon them. The heat was oppressive, hanging heavily in the humid air.

Nonhumans abounded as well. Orcs and half-orcs were common, as were dwarves and even the occasional elf and gnome. One figure struck me as bizarre, a member of a race I had never beheld. This individual was an iridescent purple, a handsome being whose features were a combination of human and insect. Fully two heads taller than me, he moved with a strange grace, carrying a strange, double-edged polearm. I recognized the creature from several lewd images I had seen many years ago while I still lived at Thunderhead.

"You've never seen a xerxyss," Anqa said.

"No. I've...seen images." I did not mention that the images I saw were in the

Eroticum Kharsoomium

, where they were apparently a common target of fetishization by the red Kharsoomians.

"They live in great nomadic tribes in the Red Wastes. Some leave their hordes, though they are considered mad by their people. That one? Looks to be an adventurer."

I watched the xerxyss make his way down the avenue, only disappearing when he turned a corner.

Anqa led me into the Shallows. Had I not known that it was over the river itself, I'd never know it. It was a maze of buildings, both stone and wood, and could have been any other area in town. Anqa brought me to an inn, and soon she and I were enjoying a bit of the local cuisine on a balcony overlooking the Emerald. The view was incredible, with both northern and southern shore in sight.

I ate fried dumplings stuffed with clams and drank the local beer, my mood brightening. Quiyahui slithered into the window and coiled by Anqa's feet. The thief petted the feathery head absently, and as Quiyahui's white-blue eyes met mine, I sensed a challenge in her gaze.

Anqa nodded to the north. "Lord Kulla's tower is there," she said.

"And the Broken Panther Shield is..."

"Somewhere within. I would guess either the top or the bottom for a treasure like that. I've seen the area before The serpent plan should suffice."

"A good plan," I said nodding. "When?"

"The first night with a decent fog," she said. "In Xoc-Nehar, you never have to wait long."

She was right. The very next evening brought a thick veil of fog. We left our inn in the cloying atmosphere, making for Lord Kulla's tower on the Kharsoomian shore.

The northern end of town grew more distinctive from the southern the farther one went. Each side had a central core, the site of the original settlement, where the buildings were their oldest and the purest representations of their culture. We were going to the area that had the most Kharsoomian flavor, with their brick ziggurats, looming towers, and angular statues. As the Nehar side of the city met the Xoc side, the styles bled into one another producing syncretic beauty that met in the Shallows. There is no place upon Thür like Xoc-Nehar, and I would return to it often.

The Kharsoomian old town was punctuated with towers in the style of that empire, each one a monument to an aristocrat's wealth. The tops of the towers featured floor-to-ceiling openings, originally developed as defensive sites for Kharsoom's famed archers, now a symbol of a lord's reach.

The guards were thicker on the streets, but none stopped us as we made our way through the thick fog. Perhaps they might have done something if Quiyahui was with us, but she trailed us high in the air, only occasionally visible as a slip of white through the pervasive gray.

"That is the estate of Lord Kulla," Anqa said, as we passed a gate in a high stone wall. "Don't look."

"Credit me with some discretion," I muttered. The tower emerged partly from the fog, looming like a giant in the haze. It extended upward from a gated compound, guarded by his personal sentries. As with any proper Kharsoomian lord, Kulla had an impressive force of enslaved warriors.

We walked another block, finding a tiered garden. Unlike Kulla's estate, this was unguarded, open for the denizens of the city to enjoy. We scaled the walls easily, the hanging vines making for convenient handholds. We made it to the top of the garden, and concealed among the palms we found there, I waved to Quiyahui.

The coatl danced down from the clouds, a coil of rope clutched in her jaws. I tied one end to one of the palms, Quiyahui holding the other. She carried it back up into the fog, vanishing from sight. Several moments later, a tug came on the rope.

"Her grip will hold?" Anqa asked.

"Only one way to find out." I climbed up on the rope, confident in my coatl's abilities. It held. I scaled it like a monkey. Halfway up, I looked down over the street far below. It was dim, bathed in fog. Someone passed below, but I couldn't identify if it was merely a pedestrian or a guard. I turned my attention back to climbing.

With little difficulty, I made it to the top of the tower. The rope was wrapped about the spire at the apex, Quiyahui continuing to clutch the end of the rope in her jaws. I stood atop the stone tower, next to the coatl. Cool air clung to me. I was powerful and alive. For the first time since I lost my power, I caught the edge of what it was to be a wizard. I felt the edge of the fog, where it fluttered out and became cloud. A faint crackle, like blood through veins, was the lightning that struggled to be born. For a moment, I was certain I could touch it.

Anqa emerged from the fog, scaling the rope, swiftly joining me atop the tower. Anqa touched Quiyahui's head affectionately, then looked to the lip of the roof. She took the end in her strong hands, lowering herself over the side. I followed her, and for a single dizzying moment, my feet dangled over nothing but air, the courtyard far below. Then I swung inward, joining Anqa on a narrow ledge. I followed her through one of the floor-to-ceiling openings that Kharsoomian lords favored. We were inside.

The upper chamber was open, furnished only by comfortable benches at the four directions. I imagined the lord taking his wives and concubines, for a proper Kharsoomian lord would have both in plenty, to this place to enjoy the view. On another night it would be something, but fingers of fog wove their way through the expansive windows, hiding the entire city in gray. Brass Braziers and candleholders stood about, all dark. I peered down, out of the window. The courtyard below, where the lord's people would be, was shrouded in foggy cobwebs. We had chosen the perfect night.

"This way," Anqa said, her eyes alight. Sneaking into some lord's home always excited her. Several times during our partnership we had interrupted our stealth to rut like animals in a wealthy home. I felt a stirring in my loins, but she turned away. Tonight would not be one of those nights.

We made our way to a spiral staircase that, if it followed the Kharsoomian style, would be the tower's spine. Just below the open room, we passed a level that had been laid with couches, and white robes were folded on several of them. As we began to descend, music slithered up to greet me. Other sounds, the rustling of cloth, some other, fleshier sounds, arrived as well. The sense was cloying, a call that I felt in my heart, shivering over my flesh, and stirring my loins.

The ring on my finger tugged at me.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at it in confusion. This ring, a skeletal serpent of silver, coiled about the base of my left index finger. Since the moment I slipped it on, the digit carried the chill of death. The ring had been the possession of Diotenah the Shadow's Daughter, a ghoul and a dark cleric devoted to the worship of the being she thought of as husband and father, Ughor the Shadow.

She forged the ring with her very soul, placing her power within and honing it to a razor's edge. When I still had my magic, the ring had made me into the Dreadstorm, a figure of nightmare for the Heacharid Empire. Any creature I slew with my magic would return as a wight, ready to slay at my command. It is an object of incomparable power, and cannot leave my finger while I still live.

A piece of Diotenah's foul soul is within, and though I do not think her conscious in a mortal way, the ring will express its desires as tendrils in my mind, seductive whispers that pull me to its end. It craves death and destruction, wants to be used to create its wights. I did not truly understand Diotenah's aims then, but I would, and they were more far-ranging than I could have imagined.

When my familiar Oddrin died on the Hollow of Storm's Rest, I lost my magic, rendering the ring useless. It had been semi-dormant since. Sometimes, when death was all around, it would rouse itself to express approval, but never in the truly hungry way it managed when the storm was at my beck and call. I had the impression that it brooded silently, waiting for me to be slain and for it to find a master who could properly utilize it.