At last, we came within sight of the city. Uroboros. The God King's seat of power.
I have to admit, I was a little underwhelmed by the forces our foe had marshaled against us. In number, the army of the Uroborans was roughly the equal of our own, and we had nearly double the Eternals. A thousand versus a thousand. Perhaps it does not sound like much to you modern folk, who would consider five or six or ten thousand souls the average population of a small village, but it seemed incredible to me. Imagine it! Two thousand blood drinkers. Nearly twenty Eternals. I doubt the world had ever seen such a gathering of immortals before. Not in one place. And I wager it never will again.
"He is ready for us," Zenzele said, staring down on that vast array of soldiers.
There was no fear in her eyes, though they flicked restively to and fro, sizing up the God King's army, inspecting his defenses, probing for weakness, searching for traps. Of all the vampires I have known, only Zenzele could match the God King's cold and pitiless cunning. When aroused, she could be a terrifying adversary—vicious, vindictive and absolutely ruthless.
I saw that coldness come over her now, saw her eyes narrow and take on that flat, emotionless luster, like the eyes of a doll. The gentle curves of her face went hard and still. Her lips curled back ever so subtly from her fangs. In truth, I felt a little sorry for our foes.
"We are ready, too," I said.
We had come out from some woods and stood now on a rocky ridge. A no man's land of yellow grass and hardpan stretched away from us in the valley down below. From our elevated vantage, I could see within the walls of the God King's capitol. The city seemed at peace, which was somewhat disheartening. I had hoped that Rayna or Irema would be stirring up some trouble by now, but the city looked as it always had, low and dark, a maze of rundown tenements and narrow, mucky streets.
"Rayna has not arrived," I said.
"Or she came and was defeated," Zenzele replied.
I turned to Aioa and inquired of her sister.
Aioa frowned in concentration for a moment, then shook her head. She had not made contact with her sister since the slaughter of the Tanti.
"Is she dead?" I asked.
I dreaded the answer I might receive, but Aioa shook her head decisively. "I can still feel her," she said. "She is close. But I cannot hear her thoughts."
"Keep trying to contact her," I said. "If the slaves rise up as we launch our assault, Khronos would have two enemies to contend with. His forces would be divided."
"And when do we attack?" Drago asked. His entire body was trembling with eagerness.
"Soon, my friend," I said. "Let us close the distance a little more-- but carefully! This all seems just a bit too easy. If Khronos has laid some trap for us, let us not indulge him by rushing blindly into it."
I signaled to the troops and eased down the embankment. I moved cautiously forward, using my powerful senses to scan the terrain ahead. I was looking for traps, camouflaged pits or enemies in hiding.
Nothing.
We closed on the city, keeping near to the ground. The God King's soldiers waited in orderly ranks, unmoving, silent and watchful. They were all dressed in black, our enemies. Black armor. Black face paint. Were it not for their torches, they would have been nearly invisible in the darkness, even for our enhanced vision. All we could see of them were their eyes, which reflected the orange light of their torches, a field of winking embers. They looked like an army of damned souls.
"Easy," I said. "Easy…"
"Why do they not attack?" Drago hissed.
"They wait for us to make the first move," Zenzele said. "They are hoping we attack in haste, make ourselves vulnerable."
"I feel like we're walking into a trap," I said. And it was true. The hair on my arms was standing straight up. "Where is Khronos?"
"There!" Aioa said.
I looked where she was pointing. There, in the middle of the walkway on the eastern wall of the city, Khronos gazed across the battlefield. Unlike his soldiers, he had not painted his flesh black, and his white face shone out like a beacon. I saw him, and I felt hatred rise up in my guts like a sizzling acid. A hundred terrible memories flashed through my mind. It was all I could do to keep myself from leaping wildly at him.
"No," Zenzele said, a hand on my shoulder. "Not yet."
I ground my teeth together and nodded.
When we were about halfway across the open plain, the God King leaned forward and made some indistinct gesture to the men down below. His troops shifted around quietly, and faint mortal sounds arose from their midst: curses, cries of pain and fear, sobbing. A moment later, several Tanti hostages were pushed to the front of the enemy line. Each was accompanied by a pair of Uroboran guards. As I watched, frozen in shock and outrage, the Tanti hostages were forced to their knees. Their escorts placed blades to their throats and then stood there waiting.
"These are the last of your mortal bloodline, heretic!" the God King cried out. His voice carried in the unnatural silence. Though we were still a small distance away, I could hear him perfectly clear. "Oh, there may be a few more out there in the wild," he went on, making a dismissive gesture, "but we will find them. We will hunt them down and kill them all. Unless--!"
He waited until I answered back.
"Unless what?" I shouted.
"Kneel to me," Khronos replied. "My offer still stands, wild blood god. We do not need to fight. You have proved that mortal and immortal can live together in peace. I will free my slaves. I will remake Uroboros after your shining new city, your glorious Asharoth. We can be allies, brothers. We can live together in harmony. Only kneel before me, Gon of the River People. Swear your allegiance to me. I can be a good king. You can help me."
The Arth was brilliantly lit by torches, and there were red banners flapping from the terraces, as if it were a festival day. A thousand mortals lined the balustrades of the middle city, watching, waiting for what came next. Would it be war or peace? Do I set them free, or do I seal their doom?
My Tanti children struggled with their captors. They cried out for me to save them, to unleash my wrath on our foes, to avenge them. If I did not submit to the God King, I would be condemning them to die. All the rest had been slaughtered or crucified. I had saved six. Here were six more. The last mortal descendants of the People of the River.
Was I making a mistake? What if the God King was speaking from his heart? What if he truly desired peace? What if he was right and we could all learn to live together, not just mortal and immortal, but all the people of Uroboros and Asharoth? Could we really become allies? All I had to do was kneel. Set aside my pride. Set aside my thirst for vengeance. Embrace hope instead of suspicion, love instead of hate.
Just kneel.
I turned to Zenzele and the question passed silently between us. Was it possible? Could there be peace between our peoples? Could Khronos change? Could we help him to be good?
I saw confusion on her face, doubt.
I felt my anger cooling, my resolve weakening.
And then…
NO!
"There is one among them who can influence our thoughts," I snarled. I looked to Aioa. "Which one is the mind-witch? Where is he? Find him, granddaughter!"
Aioa stepped forward and closed her eyes. She tilted her head as if listening for a distant sound, then pointed to one of the soldiers near the front of the line, a tall thin immortal. "That one," she said.
I turned to Usus.
"Kill him."
Usus nocked an arrow and fired. His response was instantaneous. A second later, the tall immortal Aioa had pointed out dropped to his knees and fell forward onto his face.
Immediately, all my doubts evaporated. There could be no peace with Khronos. The idea was preposterous!
Zenzele looked startled, and then shot the God King a venomous glare. "Trickery!" she hissed.
"Always with you it is lies!" I shouted to Khronos. "Only a fool would take you at your word!"
"So be it," Khronos sneered.