By Montrose
Word Count: 965
Rating: G (suitable for all audiences)
Summary: A short story of Queros wherein a leviathan negotiates with Ubayime dignitaries.
The honor of the first significant Queros visit to the great Ubayime port of Reksi this winter belonged to the leviathan Azahul, whose sleek and celeritous vessel had far outpaced her lumbering war machine and arrived under diplomatic colours.
The Great Beast, his speaker Herax, and the rest of his entourage were escorted by a detachment of the elite Kraken Guard, who preceded them down the gangplank and took position on the quayside, scanning the assembled Ubayime dignitaries who had gathered to formally welcome their guests.
Once the leviathan had disembarked they formed a ring of iron around the Queros civilians as they were led away from the shore and into the city. The streets, normally buzzing and vibrant, were eerily silent as cold-eyed Reksers lined the agreed route, staring in mute judgement on the monster which had allowed Rasha and her slaver kind to wreak such havoc and suffering on their people. For his part, Azahul bared his teeth, benthic features reflecting detestation and contempt in equal measure.
Eventually they reached a cleared space, inland from the city centre. The Ubayime had erected in these outskirts an enormous tent, easily sufficient to accommodate even a Leviathan of Lo. The interior too had been tailored to the Great Beast’s demands, with attendants regularly pouring water over glowing coals in the centre of the tent to produce the atmosphere of a sauna. Standing back to the coals, naked to prove he was hiding nothing, stood Tutsnuigia Eguna, formerly foremost of the Tradehood.
With no interest in pleasantries, Azahul squared up to the tiny human. To the onlookers it was an absurd tableau, like the opening of an absurd wrestling match – which it was, in truth, albeit in a non-physical sense. Between the two figures, like a referee, stood the squat figure of Herax, who spoke for the silent, mute behemoth.
“The Great Beast and Protector of the Queros stands ready to reveal the truth of the Shadow’s Breath!” spoke Azahul’s herald. As he did so, Azahul closed the gap with Eguna in one monstrous stride and the two locked eyes. The Great Beast flexed his will, and hellish energy rippled through the tent as he entered the Ubayime’s unresisting mind. He swayed slightly, as the Leviathan’s questions sounded through the steam.
“The Great Beast asks: ‘Do the Ubayime have access to Psychic Magic?'”
“Yes,” responded Eguna, eyes glazed and fixed on nothing as the Leviathan swam behind his eyes, plying the deeps of his mind.
“The Great Beast asks: ‘Have you received any missives from the Shadowsbreath other than those you sent to us? If so, what were they?'”
“No”.
Eguna twitched slightly as Azahul drifted in his thoughts, senses reaching out for duplicity, finding nothing but the calm waters of an honest mind. Another question.
“The Great Beast asks ‘Do the Ubayime have any other involvement with or information on the Cult or the Order of the Celestial Shield than what they have divulged publicly? If so, what is it?'”
“No….” Eguna started, but he stopped suddenly. The Great Beast dove suddenly through the eddying currents of his mind, hunters eyes locked onto a flickering otherness deep below, a dappling in the darkness. He drew close and saw suspicions confirmed: thoughts, dark and furtive, veiled and rendered chameleonic by psychomancy, blending into the shifting backdrop of the mindscape. Hidden. Azahul closed…
Suddenly, Eguna screamed, a guttural shriek which drowned even the furious growling of the Leviathan opposite. His guards swarmed to arms, rushed to break up the contest of wills now their leader was clearly struggling to break free from the Leviathan’s domination. Kraken Guard rushed to intercept them, and the tent rang as steel clashed in the steam.
In the gulf of Eguna’s consciousness, Azahul banked and twisted. The shoal had scattered, evasive, and the supreme predator rushed to chase them down. As one disappeared into his jaws he glimpsed the forbidden memory within – Eguna, surrounded by disparate group of people. Giving orders. The Shadowsbreath? He strained his mind, willing himself to hear, to force down on that silent figment. But the screaming was all-pervasive, his host’s resistance whipping the mindscape into a maelstrom. Azahul thrashed against the churn, desperate to close on another memory, but his sides were burning, slashed by blades…
With a scream of fury, he rose from the depths of Eguna’s mind, breaking the surface and emerging into wakefulness. Blood slicked his sides from the attentions of the Tradelord’s guards, whom he tore into in blind fury. It did not take him long to kill those too bold to flee.
He turned, and sought his prey through the roiling steam, the mangled bodies of Queros and Ubayime soldiers. Eguna had taken advantage of his dalliance with the guards, backing away and giving himself space as he shook the lingering tendrils of infernomancy from his head and flexed his fingers. Lightning lashed the Great Beast as he closed the space, again and again, scales peeling and cracking beneath the heat, muscles cooking on the bone. He issued no sorcery in response, no black fire or invisible knives tore at Eguna as the leviathan closed the distance, eyes locked on the crackling sorcerer, and tore him in half.
The red mist lifted then, in the red stillness of the tent, and Azahul heard the clang and cry of melee where his remaining guards duelled with an increasingly incensed Ubayime mob. The leviathan stormed from the tent, drawing himself up to his full height to stare with naked hatred at the suddenly silent mob. A low snarl, the sweep of a clawed hand, and with a small thunderclap the Great Beast, his herald and guards were gone.